#chronically ill child

[clickerflight]

Clove: Part 12 - Why?

Masterlist

Part 11

I love my boys, of course of course, but also have you seen Margie and Josh? IDK what this side plot is doing, but I am invested personally.

Content: Werewolf whumpee, vampire caretaker, so much fluff, so much panic, mentions of a child who is chronically ill

............................................

Everything smelled like Ephraim. Hyrum hummed softly, nestling farther under whatever was draped over him. He felt content and safe. Protected. 

Faintly, he caught the scent of Ephraim’s blood and his eyes flew open as he scrambled up to see what was wrong. Ephraim was sleeping in the bed next to him, and he woke up as Hyrum started checking him for where he could smell blood. There was dried blood on his shirt on the floor so Hyrum pulled the shirt Ephraim was wearing back and forth, trying to see whatever damage there was as much as his addled brain could manage. 

Ephraim reached out, taking Hyrum’s arms, making him whine. 

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Ephraim asked. 

“Blood,” Hyrum said, struggling to get free, to make sure the vampire was okay. “There’s blood.”

“Ah,” Ephraim said. He sat up, letting Hyrum go and lifted his shirt. There was a pale scar across his chest and Ephraim said, “I’m okay, see? There was a dangerous man at the cottage and he hurt me when we were fighting, but I’m okay.”

Hyrum brushed a finger over it, to make sure Ephraim was telling the truth, but true enough the wound was sealed and all that was left was the scar. 

“Oh,” Hyrum said softly.

Ephraim dropped the shirt and held his arms open, letting Hyrum plough into him. Ephraim held him for a while, soothing all of the spiraling little fears that had taken up residence in his brain the night before. Still, there was a quiet terror he couldn’t quite shake. He had gotten a tiny taste of what it would be like to lose what he had here and it had been devastating. The real thing would surely destroy him entirely. 

He tried to shake the fear. Just because there was a bad man at the cottage, it didn’t mean that it was necessarily Jack. Who knows how many bad men there were in the woods. Hyrum knew that Jack had friends so it stood to reason there were even more than that. In fact, at one point he’d been convinced that all humans were like Jack.

Still, curious and apprehensive at the same time, Hyrum twisted, grabbing one of Ephraim’s hands and closed his eyes, smelling it deeply. 

His hackles rose as his deepest fear was confirmed and he froze. 

Ephraim pulled him into a tighter hug as the werewolf began to hyperventilate, tried to pull closer to Ephraim, tried to crawl into his very chest so he could hide forever. 

“Goldenrod, hey,” Ephraim’s soft voice said urgently. “I know you’re scared. I know, I know. Stay with me, sweetheart.”

Hyrum made a conscious effort to calm down, pressing his ear against Ephraim’s chest and listening to Ephraim’s very slow heartbeat. Ephraim ran a soothing hand up and down Hyrum’s back, a touch the boy couldn’t have even imagined just a month ago. 

Hyrum quickly came to a realization, one that he had shied away from before because it couldn’t possibly be true, but now….

“You’re not going to let him take me,” he whispered in awe, twisting his head to look up at Ephraim, only really seeing the bottom of his chin. 

“No, I’m not going to let him take you,” Ephraim said gently. “And the next time he comes to cause trouble, I’ll…. I’ll kill him. And then he’ll never get to take you.”

Hyrum relaxed into Ephraim’s arms as Ephraim pressed a kiss to his head. 

“Thank you,” Hyrum breathed. 

“Of course, Goldenrod,” and Hyrum was too ecstatic and relaxed to hear the gentle and complicated sort of sadness in Ephraim’s voice. 

…………………………………….

Margie was exhausted. She had spent nearly all day working on the cottage and she had only cleared the front room. There hadn’t been any traps or curses in the kitchen or the storage room, but both of the bedrooms were hexed to the high heavens. 

Josh helped support her as she grumbled, unable to do anything else even with Josh’s help. They’d have to come back in the morning. Not for the first time, Margie realized she needed an actual apprentice, someone to take over for her when she was too weak to do this anymore. Most of the time she pushed the thought off to deal with when she was ‘actually old’ in her mind, but now, exhausted, feet aching underneath her and feeling sick to her stomach, Margie allowed the thought to actually stay this time and make a nest in her mind. Maybe she didn’t feel ‘actually old’, but she recognized that she was. 

She was faintly miffed with herself that she needed to be so run down to be able to accept thoughts like that, but here she was. 

She ran the people of the village through her mind, trying to think of who would work best for this sort of job. Someone who was careful and fairly neat in their actions. It would be useful if they had some knowledge in distilling and brewing, even if it wasn't specifically experience with potions. Lots of free time on their hands to learn this sort of thing and an ability to sort out magic by feel. Not likely to be bowled over by other people’s opinions. 

Just as she was starting to run the adults of the village through her mind, she realized the answer was right in front of her. Or, rather, right beside her helping her walk. She inwardly groaned. Still, there were worse people to work with and Josh met all the requirements. Well, most of them. While his business with wine and alcohol meant he had knowledge in brewing and distilling and gave him the winter’s off because of the money made during the summers and he wouldn’t have to tend to the grape vines he kept, he had three children he helped his wife look after so free time might not be as free as she liked, but he was the best option, especially after seeing him work alongside her in the cottage. 

“Josh,” Margie said in a croaking voice.

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever considered becoming the village’s magic man?”

Josh’s stunned silence lasted only a moment before he said, “Can’t say I have. Why?”

Margie grumbled a little before saying, “You were very helpful in there, and I can’t keep this up forever, you know.”

“Are you asking me to become your apprentice?” he asked, a wry smile on his sun tanned face. 

“If you have to know, yes.”

Josh thought about it for a moment before he said, “I think I could? I’ll have to talk it over with Anna first, of course.”

“Of course,” Margie grumbled. “Maybe I could teach her too. You could split the load between the two of you. She’s already proved herself useful when it comes to herbs and remedies and the like.”

Josh sighed. “Yeah. I guess that sort of happens when you have a child like Dimitri.”

Margie nodded. Dimitri was a weak, though resilient sort. He was almost always sick but still plowed on through life like he was going to live it to the fullest, no matter if it shortened his lifespan. It seemed to make his parents happy, though. The village often watched him carefully, wondering if this was going to be his last winter. 

Margie certainly remembered his birth and his first winter. Anna had nearly died giving birth to the child and he practically lived in Margie’s little hovel during that first winter with endless bouts of croup and any passing cold that decided to drop in for a visit. 

“I’ll walk you to your house and then I’ll let Ephraim know he can’t go back today,” Josh said matter of factly, and Margie bristled. 

“I can tell him myself.”

“Oh, no, old bird,” Josh said easily and Margie nearly cursed him out. He had been growing to be just as brazen as his wife. “You’ll go home and rest. Orders from the possible future magic man.”

Margie huffed. “Insufferable. Completely insufferable.”

“Your knees will thank me,” Josh promised. 

And Margie hated that he was right.

……………………………….

Guntar was kind enough to let Ephraim and Hyrum stay in his house while he was out working, and Ephraim was glad for it. He didn’t much feel like leaving the bed, and Hyrum certainly wasn’t up to it. 

As the two laid curled together, dozing off in intervals, there was a knock on the door which made Hyrum whimper, grabbing hold of Ephraim. 

Ephraim stroked his head, listening as a familiar voice called, “Ephraim!?”

Ephraim placed his hands over Hyrum’s sensitive ears and called back, “In here! Come in!”

The door opened and Josh shuffled in, eventually poking his head in. 

“Oh, sorry,” he said, surprised when he saw the two. 

“It’s fine,” Ephraim said. “Goldenrod and I had a bit of a scare, so we decided to just rest for today.”

“So I heard last night. Well, not that I actually heard it. Embarrassed to say I slept through the whole event,” Josh said. “Anyways, I went up with Margie to try and sort out your cottage. It’s a mess up there. The spells were laid pretty thick. We did what we could but the bedrooms are still hexed and trapped. We’ll be going up again tomorrow to see if we can finish…. Well, that’s if Margie can make the trip back up the hill. Her knees have been giving her some trouble, see?”

“Oh, thank you, Josh,” Ephraim said kindly, pulling up the blanket to hide Hyrum a little better. “I know you probably have things to do, but would you be able to drop by the butcher’s shop and ask Guntar if we can stay here another night or if we should find other accommodations?”

“Absolutely,” Josh said with a warm smile. Ephraim deeply appreciated that Josh didn’t pry as to why Ephraim couldn’t do it himself. He didn’t want to draw attention to Hyrum when he was so scared. “I’ll be back in a bit, then.”

“Thank you,” Ephraim said softly and Josh nodded, heading back out to do as he was asked. 

Ephraim stroked Hyrum’s head under the covers, laying his own head back down on the pillow, contemplating the situation. It sounded like he and Hyrum wouldn’t be able to go back to the house for a while, which left him in a rather sticky situation. He wasn’t certain how well Hyrum would do when it came to being around other people. As far as the vampire could tell, the werewolf was terrified of everyone who wasn’t Ephraim. 

And even after Josh and Margie got the spells cleared up, Ephraim would have to find someone to try and clear out Jack’s scent or at least cover it, or go do it himself, though he wasn’t sure how well Hyrum would take it. He supposed he would just have to see how Hyrum reacted after he had a couple of days to process everything. Who knew, Hyrum had proved to be rather resilient, if a bit hesitant. He could grow to like people after finding that they wouldn’t hurt him. After all, he had grown quite attached to Ephraim pretty quickly, so there was a good chance that all would be well. 

“Ephraim?”

Hyrum had shifted, poking his head out of the blankets, his ears flicking up once freed from the covers. 

“Yes, Goldenrod?”

“Who was that?”

Ephraim smiled. “That’s Josh. He’s a friend of mine. He’s married to Anna. You met her when Morticai was in town, remember?”

Hyrum nodded. “So he’s…. Like you?”

“I’m not sure I understand your question, dear.”

“He’s not going to h-hurt me? Or tell Jack?”

“Oh, no. Not at all.”

“Oh…. I just thought that humans were…..” Hyrum searched for the words for a moment before continuing with, “I thought they all knew Jack and that they’d help him.”

“No. People who would help Jack are pretty few and far between, really. The people in the village are my friends, mostly… maybe not Harry or Katrina. They’ve never really warmed up to me, but that’s alright.”

Hyrum mulled those words over carefully, his ears flicking slightly back and forth as he did so. “So…. what does Josh want then? Jack wanted to make me a weapon-” Doubtful, Ephraim thought to himself, “-And you want to keep me safe and M-Margie wants to heal people? Then what would Josh want?”

“He probably wants to take care of his family,” Ephraim replied. “You know, making sure his children grow up strong and are happy and have happy lives of their own.”

“Oh.” 

Ephraim supposed the idea would sound quite foreign to Hyrum, so he just let the werewolf process that information for a moment. 

After a few long minutes, during which Ephraim started to drift off again, Hyrum patted his chest to get his attention again. Ephraim gave it willingly, opening his eyes. 

“So… most people don’t want to make weapons, do they?” Hyrum asked. He sounded like he was coming to that conclusion himself and just wanted to make sure he was on the right track. 

“No, they don’t,” Ephraim assured him, though that seemed to leave Hyrum more confused. 

“Then, why would Jack want to make me a weapon?”

Ephraim had expected this question, though perhaps not this early. He thought it over for a moment. He could see no rhyme or reason to what Jack had done, and he certainly wasn’t trying to make any sort of weapon. Hyrum had turned up on the verge of death, for crying out loud. 

“Hyrum… I’m not sure he was trying to make you into a weapon. I really have no idea what he was doing, but I think he was just hurting you for the sake of it. I’m so sorry I don’t have an explanation, but what he did was not okay, and it was not normal, and I’m here to protect you now.”

Hyrum stared at him, and Ephraim wasn’t sure the werewolf really comprehended him. Hyrum looked down, distressed as he gently kneaded his stomach, trying to wrap his mind around it. 

“But….. Why!?”

Ephraim just held him closer while Hyrum whimpered softly, kneading his stomach harder. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into Hyrum’s hair. “I’m so so sorry. It’ll be alright. I’ve got you now. He’s not going to come anywhere near you.”

Ephraim’s heart could only break as Hyrum shuddered under his arms, hiding his face in his hands.

Part 13

Clove Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @the-blind-one-speaks @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @inkkswhumpandstuff @honeycollectswhump @whump-blog-reblogs @pigeonwhumps

[phleb0tomist]

did you grow up with chronic pain? did you get called sensitive as a kid/teen with chronic pain? were you bombarded with wisecracks from adults who said you won’t know real pain till you get older? join my initiative to ban this vile practice from planet earth!

i had chronic pain as a kid. (still do now.) my physical ability was best in childhood, like, i could do cartwheels then, meanwhile i can’t walk now. but istg my pain was regularly at this very same level back in childhood. ok i have extra symptoms now which make things harder, but if we’re JUST focusing on the pain part, it’s often the same. this blows my mind. the level of pain that i have now, bedbound and with opioids and a million accommodations, is the same level i had when i was 10 when i was just walkin around all day, asking my teachers nicely if i could sit indoors during playtime. (they said no btw.) back then, every time i tried to tell people how much everything hurt, adults said i was “sensitive”.

was i sensitive? is that what i was?

I think i must have been insanely powerful as a 10 year old to be out and about with a level of pain that makes me nonfunctional as an adult. I wonder how many kids and teens are in that amount of pain right now and are being dismissed because of their age. i think the way adults treat children with long term pain is evil. “you don’t know real pain! it only gets worse as you get older! wait till you grow up!!”

okay i waited.

i’m closer to 30 now than i am to 10, and the more hindsight i gain, the more i realise what a horrific violation it is that my pain was ignored when i was the most vulnerable to the trauma of unmanaged pain and had the least frame of reference for what level of agony is normal to experience while climbing stairs

[allsadnshit]

Excerpts from "Wilted Scallion Heart Revival 10,000" to celebrate springs arrival + air out my feelings so my qi can move

[sickiehugs]

When a character is feeling super sick and shitty but they don't have a fever, so they aren't taking it seriously or resting because to them, they aren't really sick unless there's visible proof. Maybe it comes from when they were growing up, and their family never took their illness seriously unless there was a fever. Maybe they would accuse them of lying to get out of things. So now, they worry if that really is the case. They work themselves to the bone and feel like they're going to collapse, but they aren't really sick unless they have a fever.

Bonus points if they have a partner who cares about their well-being, and as soon as they see them in the state they're in, they immediately make a fuss and insist that they rest. The character somehow feels good, even though they don't want their partner worrying, because someone is finally making it a big deal. It's finally real, it's finally serious.

[lazylittledragon]

y'know i always wondered why it always felt like i was sick for SO long whenever i caught something when i was younger?? then i realised i was waking up at 6am and going to school and doing homework every day so no wonder i spent 2 weeks fighting off colds. the last time i got sick as an adult, i slept in and sat in bed and did nothing as often as i could and i was almost over it in 3 days.

so anyway fuck attendance rewards and shaming kids for taking days off school. let them rest.

[a-walking-fandom-reference]

why do so many non-chronically ill people not comprehend that chronically ill means exactly what it says!! an illness that is constant, continuing for a long time, always present.

so yes that does mean it is always affecting me, yes i am still sick/feel bad, yes i am sick/feel bad all the time

[enbycrip]

Thing to remember if you are writing anything involving class and working class people, including game design: poverty is a major cause of AND a major result of disability and chronic illness.

If you write something where every working class person, every person who comes from a working class background, or every poor person, is healthy and physically strong, and just as much or more so if you bake that into a game system by giving people from those backgrounds high Health or Strength stats, you are making an active *choice* to erase a substantial part of the experience of and results of poverty.

Disabled people exist *everywhere*. In every setting - even when there’s magical healing or nanobots or whatever, frankly, erasure of disabled people and the experience of disability is an active narrative choice to erase us. So we *certainly* exist in *every* real world present-day and historical setting, and the fact that you don’t think so is due to active cultural erasure of disabled people and the experience of disability.

While disability is *absolutely* present in every strata of society, the experiences of disability and poverty are deeply and inherently entwined. Given that the vast majority of people are workers, and primarily physical workers throughout history - and if you don’t think disability massively impairs your ability to do call centre work, let alone food service, care work, retail work, or most of the other low-paid jobs in our current service economy, even if they are not habitually classified as heavy physical work, you need to massively expand your understanding of what disability actually is.

Poverty is generational in all sorts of ways, but one of them is that gestational and childhood poverty affects a person for their entire life. There are so many illnesses that one is predisposed to by inadequate nutrition during gestation and childhood, or by environmental pollution during those times (most likely in poverty-stricken areas). Disability and illness in parents and family members so often sees young children go without essentials and older ones forced into forgoing education and opportunities so they can care for family members or enter paid work. It’s a generational cycle that has held depressingly true in urban and rural areas, and that’s before even considering the impact of genetic illnesses and predisposition to illnesses.

Not to mention that a great deal of neurodivergence is incredibly disabling in every strata of society - yes, bits of it can be very advantageous in certain places, jobs, roles and positions, but the *universality* of punishment for not intuiting the subtle social rules of place and social environment again and again means most ND folk end up with a massive burden of trauma by adulthood. On top of the poverty that means in loss of access to paid work and other opportunities, trauma is incredibly shitty for your health.

Yeah; it might not be “fun” to write about or depict. But by failing to do so you are actively perpetuating the idea that the class system, whatever it is, is “just”. That poorest people do the jobs they do because they are “best suited for them” instead of because of societal inequality and sheer *bad fortune* without safety nets to catch people. It is very much worth doing the work to put it in.

[small-but-mightyy]

now i’m suffering, and you couldn’t care less

[a-totally-reasonable-username]

Was just asked if it wasn't difficult to transition to using a wheelchair

The person asking me was sitting in an office chair. A chair with wheels.

[ssnake-party]

I am so so tired. Popular media is spewing queerphobic bullsh#t and my parent is eating it up.

Today, I tried explaining that those media are not giving accurate information. I tried to explain what LGBTQ+ is, and how it's totally normal and valid, and that my parent shouldn't be learning things about this community through the mouths of straight and cis people.

I just want to come out, and have some support. I just want to tell someone I know. My parent is always like they'll support me no matter what, but if they have such a misguided view of queer people- how can I tell them that I am queer as well. That's why I care SO much about this. Just please understand me.

My parent is not so accepting wherever I say something they don't want to hear. When I said I will not be having children, they see it as something sad. When I say I'm autistic and I have ADHD (my doctor literally told me), he again looks hurt. And says, no way don't say things like that.

I can't tell him I'm queer now, I just don't want to explain to someone who doesn't want to understand. I'm so heartbroken. My head hurts, and I want to cry.

And he just says everything while acting like he's not queerphobic like what? And the media he follows is supportive when they are perpetuating harmful stereotypes..? Why is he always like this.. if you say you're gonna support someone no matter what, then you should. Like what exactly should I expect from you when your words don't match..

[cookinguptales]

you know, when I was like... maybe 7ish we had a pizza party at school. they had 2-liters of coke for us, but I remember crying because I wanted diet coke. and all the teachers were like ??? because it's not typical, I'll admit, for kids to want diet drinks. and I was asked, y'know, am I diabetic? do I have blood sugar problems?

no and no.

my dad has trouble digesting sugary drinks. I was never banned from them, I just didn't have the opportunity to drink them often. we only had diet drinks and juice in my house. (and even juice wasn't my favorite.)

so I didn't like coke. it tasted far too sweet to me. it was unpleasant. I wanted a diet coke. and I cried because everyone else had a special-occasion drink they liked but I had to drink coke, which was so unpleasant, until a teacher took pity on me (or got irritated) and got me a can of diet coke from the break room.

and, y'know... for years, I felt embarrassed about throwing a fit about that damn drink. oh, I should have just shut up and drank the coke, or maybe just gone without a drink. it's so embarrassing the way I cried over everything as a child. (and I do mean everything.)

but I understand these days that I was dealing with a fairly traumatic home life (that I constantly tried to tell the adults in my life about, but who told me I was overreacting) as well as being neurodivergent. I understand things like sensory issues and RSD now. I get why everything always felt so overwhelming at that age, why everything felt like it was the end of the world and why I felt like everyone would hate me for every perceived infraction.

what I understand better, though, is that I also cannot digest sugary drinks. it turned out to be something I inherited from my dad. my father and I aren't diabetic or anything; we've been tested many times. we just... don't handle sugar well. and I hadn't been exposed to a lot of sugar back then, but I knew when I had really sugary things, especially in liquid form, I didn't like it. I didn't like the way it tasted and I didn't like the way it made me feel.

we didn't know that I had an actual medical issue back then, or that I probably should have always had low-sugar snacks on hand. that they should have had a diet coke for me from the beginning.

but we knew that I didn't want to drink that soda.

idk, I just... as a kid, I always felt so ashamed of this episode. like I was being purposefully manipulative to get what I wanted. but as an adult, I have a lot more patience and understanding. I hate that we don't just listen to kids. they don't always have the experience to tell us why something is bothering them, but they know that something is bothering them.

I'm thinking now about how long it took me to get diagnosed with my multiple chronic illnesses, and how part of what took so long was the fact that many doctors didn't take me seriously. several of them told my parents they should be taking me to a therapist, not a medical doctor. they thought I was just a kid acting out.

idk. idk. this isn't like... a full meta post or a well-thought-out post about disability or anything, but just... I'm thinking about how from birth, we're taught to ignore what our body is telling us. (especially if we're AFAB.) I'm thinking about how raising a fuss while trying to take care of that body is something that'll get you shamed.

I'm thinking about how sick I got every time I drank juice at breakfast, and how none of that was necessary.

going to school with my spine partially dislocated wasn't necessary. fainting between classes wasn't necessary. hell, going to school with bruises and bites and scratch marks all over my body wasn't necessary.

idk. I don't want kids. for a lot of reasons, really. but sometimes I want to take care of them just so I can listen to them as they learn what their body is telling them and spare them any unnecessary harm I can. :(

[waywardsunlight]

Rating the Owl House Single Parents because I can 10s don't have to be perfect they're just silly and good. Eda- 10/10. I know I should dock her points for several things but she really is a good mom. She tries her best to protect them and is willing to admit when she messes up. Camila- 10/10. "Who knew I had such a strong girl-" STFU I LOVE YOu. Camila's a good mom to her daughters. Perry- 10/10. His relationship with Gus isn't perfect but like. is it meant to be. I think that's ok. Darius (+ Eber) - 10/10. Hunter seems very happy with them. Evelyn- 10/10. Evelyn has good vibes. The only reference to her daughter other than her being pregnant is an image of them(?) burning a town down together. Splendid. Caleb- 10/10. Caleb gets points bc Philip survived and was generally happy. He probably was not a good parent to Philip in that. he was a child. and definitely was in survival mode. but they both lived and sometimes you need 10 points because of that. Belos- 0/10. Hunter and the Collector are very unhappy. Ik the Collector is only his child through Skype but like. he's a bad parent to both of them but especially Hunter. Also, I know he's not Vee's guardian but if you create somebody you should at least make sure they have some kind of quality of life my dude.

[wings-of-ink]

Just so you know I'm not ignoring your ask, Anon, I'm putting this one on hold for a hot-minute. It might be a little hard for me to write presently. I may not do a POV necessarily, but a general reaction. I'll just have to see, lol. It's no biggie, I just started my day and I sometimes really get into these reaction/POV type things, and I probably shouldn't put my mind there right now. ^_^

When I do post an answer though, I'll be sure to tag it with relevant warnings too, just in case!

[creativesplat]

a little doodle of my favourite fire emblem guys (modern au!)

[chronicallydragons]

Saw a Netflix promo video that had millie bobby Brown summarize her new show in 15 seconds and it was basically just 15 2-5 word bullet points so I decided to do the same for child of the dragon and my MG werewolf WIP and I'm laughing so hard at some of these

Child of the Dragon

🐉 dragon fight

👑 her majesty the King

🔪 his majesty the King

📚 high school and calculus

🪦 funeral

🐉 dragon training

😱 best friend is a dragon?!

👗 fighting in ball gowns

🤠 mechanical bulls are basically dragons, right?

⚔️ sword fights on dragons

🔑 worst grand prize ever

💔 break up

⚔️ big battle, wall of death

❤️‍🩹 love wins!

👑 HER MAJESTY THE KING

MG werewolf WIP: (ignore that it has 16, I’m laughing so hard)

🐾 werewolf tracks

📸 polaroid camera

🐺 gotta keep the secret

🥞 werewolves might like pancakes

🕵️‍♀️ looking for clues

🐺 oh no! A werewolf!

🐺🐺 oh no! TWO werewolves!

💔 betrayal

🥞 forgiveness for pancakes

📚 secret library

👃 sniffin out clues

🐺 oh no! A werewolf!

📞 hello? Useless magical government officials?

🎪 party!

🐺 oh no!! Werewolves!

🍩 donuts save the day

Anyway, I had a lot of fun making a very vague summary of my books and thought it would be fun to see others, so, can I make this a tag game?? I want to see more!

Gently tagging: @tildeathiwillwrite @gamerkats @blind-the-winds

[impishtubist]

"Calling Remus out for not checking up on Harry means that you hate disabled poor people" okay ya weirdos🤣