



Nature Calls
As a child in Wales, Christmas used to be William Herondale's favorite time of year. Since he had moved to the London Institute, his Christmases had turned into true Greek comedies. In his first year, he'd set fire to a curtain—accidentally, it's worth noting—. In the second year, there had been the mess with Tatiana and Gabriel Lightwood. In his third year, he had skipped the party in an attempt to avoid yet another tragedy. A mistake, for he'd woken up on the twenty-fifth with a hangover, a black eye, and a tattoo of the Welsh Dragon on his back from who knows where. On her fourth Christmas at the Institute, things started to go wrong before the party even started.
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View profile🖤 99% trevosidade e aquele 1% fofura ✒️ Autora de fantasia e suspense na Amazon Aqui você pode encontrar minhas antigas fanfics de Amor...
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