Does Geno sleep with jammies on?

[oh, sweet, an ask!]

G- "It depends really, 'cause sometimes I don't really have an option to wear any, but if I don't, I sleep with the cape. It's a little warmer than it looks!"

i dont mean to just be bitching about baldurs gate right now-- i am actually enjoying it-- but an issue i am feeling rn in terms of writing, and i am not sure if thisll change as i go on (i am not far at all) is your companions not really reacting to some pretty seriously choices you make

minor but not huge spoilers. at the very early part i started making actions towards a mind flayer, that after multiple steps (like reading its mind, trying to get closer, trying to detach) no one was doing anything, they just watched. and after those multiple actions, i died. like, my character was standing there for at least a minute or more, was not moving and got closer, and everyone just let me. and vague spoiler, later on there was someone who was supposed to help me but instead tricked and poisoned me-- there were multiple steps of conversation and i really would have expected an interjection bc the thing was a plan to help *all* of us, but no one questioned this persons method that she did not explain at all, they just stood there

they have piped up a few times! but im just surprised they didnt pop up in those far more dangerous and consequential moments. like maybe they should have had their own passive checks to react differently at least, idk.

hey guys im BACK baby and i have some words

here are links so you can still find everything, but be wary that these links are probably gonna break any minute when i start moving everything around. lets hope i can remember to fix them and that i dont take a year to get to doing that: ARCHIVE    MY ART    OTHER ORGANIZATION TAGS

IM STILL ALIVE. i like to think that i never rlly left, but I havent posted in a damn while and part of that is because life stuff caught up with me and moreso because uhhhhhh Well im not quite satisfied with the way my blogs formatted right now, it makes posting and organizing and navigating harder than it has to be and it makes it Not Fun to post things.

SO. what we're gonna do is revamp things a lil bit. we're fucking doing this we are Making It Happen. what this'll do is itll make it easier for me to post things without having to remember every silly tag and rule i have set up here, and ill also just have a bit more of a laid-back and fun kinda art blog. i tried to do an elaborate tagging system, but MAN i am too forgetful for that.

so im just gonna keep it simple. character, fandom, content warnings, and maybe some other flavourtags. the sorts of things thatll make it easier for me to just pop up a quick drawing on even a busy day without having to go through a silly step by step process on how to tag things. because i love sharing my art and posting :)) but not so much when it is difficult </3

but hell who knows how thisll go after i reboot my bloggo. i think she was due for some maintenance for a long while. *pats the sidebar like you would soothe an agitated horse* there there girl, its gonna be alright. maybe ill even start making... casual posts? text posts? things like that??? damn Maybe.

im also gonna private some organization posts until i can properly wrangle then and sort out their kinks and oddities, and im gonna disable my blog theme for a bit. when i get a braincell on how to do an html and a css properly, THEN i can have a pretty theme. in the meantime, ill probably just set myself up with one of the tumblr defaults.

anyways. *ahem* for anyone who doesnt know me and this is their first stumble upon my blog while i move things around. feel free to click the read more if you want to subject yourself to the silliest introduction i could make for myself possible.

hi. i like to draw but lately my art skills have been a bit shakey, i think im out of practice so im probably gonna start out doing some studies. my styles and designs for characters are always changing, but lately ive been trying to cement some designs that are in my brain Onto Paper.

im goblinrockcandy but you can call me GRC if that's a mouthful (thats what i call me because i do not have time for 5 syllables). im a Knight of Heart and sometimes that gets shortened to KoH and so sometimes people call me koh. now KOH is also the chemical formula for potassium hydroxide, but no one calls me that (a real shame, it flows right off the tongue and i think its a lovely set of sounds), but potassium hydroxide also goes by another name and that is lye. so sometimes people call me lye. i don't have a name so if you want to refer to me you have to get creative or pick up my blog by the scruff of its handle like a really ugly cat and point at it and say "this motherfucker right here".

same goes for pronouns. my pronouns are none/applicable. you gotta BE CREATIVE if you want to refer to me... pronouns are a crutch. they were your training wheels and now im the final boss. you have to fight me with your other words, this is what you have been training for.......

im trans queer person of colour, painfully unfunny and addicted to bad jokes, and i love homestuck. my faves switch up every once in a blood moon but right now i really fuckin love jake english. you might have discerned that by the very subtle hints of I talk about Him all the time & dirt striber avatar.

m-may i request a stressed out kageyama, unable to sleep before a big game and reader helps him ~destress~ if u know what i mean 😳

this is so bad n rushed but its hard writing rn so thisll do for now

warning(s): blow job

“nervous?” - tobio kageyama x (g/n)reader

it was a hot summer night. the toads outside were creaking and the atmosphere in the bedroom was restless and frantic, but not as bad as the boy behind you. you had not caught a wink of sleep all night, and this time it wasn’t your fault. needless to say, if you had gotten money for the amount of times that your husband had changed his positions, you’d be earning much more money than he does. but you couldn’t blame him, for he had his first match as a Schweiden Adlers setter the next day. even though it was his first match, he was going to be the main setter, which was huge, considering that he just made his debut with the team a few months back. so much was sitting on the result of the game tomorrow, his whole career to be exact.

as much as you weren’t enjoying missing out on sleep and worrying about your husband’s nerves, tobio wasn’t enjoying it as much either. it was a new feeling for him to be nervous and the fact that it’s a match alongside a completely different team which he had most of his life made it worse. he hated the feeling of the tightening in his stomach and the need to hold back imaginary puke in his mouth. to take it to the next level, he started worrying about not getting enough sleep, which was ironic because the very thought pushed him to fall deeper into it, minutes flying by with no remedy.

or so he thought.

in midst of all his worrying, discovering what it feels like when hinata needed to constantly use the bathroom before a game, he had forgotten that there was someone besides him who could easily help him out. he was reminded as you turned to face him, getting up and leaning on your right forearm as you looked down at him, catching his eyes despite the darkness.

“nervous?” you asked, chuckling softly at the way he let out a soft groan, covering his face with his hands.

“hey, it’s okay, there’s a big game tomorrow, it’s fine to be nervous” you said, now moving to straddle him as you moved his hands from his face, marvelling at the desperate boy beneath you. “but it’s not like you’ve never been nervous for a game before” you continued, cupping his sweaty face in your palms.

“actually” a hoarse voice came out before clearing up and continuing, “I used to barely get nervous, I never had a reason to. this is kind of like my first time.”

you couldn’t help but to be shocked. how had he never been nervous before? he must have been some kind of freak during high school.

“wait, I was extremely nervous once, and it was when I asked you out.”

you smirked, thinking ‘nevermind’ as you proceeded to lace your hands with his as they rested on his pillow, the cold of the metal band on his finger bringing a pleasant and welcomed cold sting.

“well, how’d you get rid of that?” you asked, rubbing your thumbs over the knuckles of his fingers, eyes darting over his features and how they seemed to shine differently in the sliver of moon light that entered the room.

“I didn’t. you said yes and it just went away.”

you could see the tiredness in his face, and the twitching of his eyes told you that the solution needed to be immediate and the most effective. and you had one, a perfect one.

“tobio, I’ll help you relax, you just sit back and enjoy, okay?” you asked before leaning down and planting a small kiss on his lips, loving the way that he tried to return it with his chapped lips as you moved away.

if it was any other night, you would’ve taken your time, kissing your way down his body, ravishing him as the beautiful creature he was, maybe even teasing and getting him to beg, but with the way he sighed softly at the contact of your hand against his crotch, you knew you had to get straight to the point. it was going to have be to be urgent but still satisfactory.

you now laid down between his thighs, the blanket pushed behind you as you slipped his boxers down with the help of him lifting his hips. they reached till his knees till his exhausted body collapsed onto the bed. your fingers worked up his thighs, brushing past the light hair he had before settling on his cock. it was semi-hard, but you could feel it slowly hardening as you got to work.

licking it from the base to the tip, your tongue drew patterns on it as you tried your best to make him hard in the slightly sleepy haze you were in. soft moans left his mouth as you flicked the underside of his tip, his eyes shutting and arm resting on his forehead. even in such a tired state of being, he could still look like a god.

you were quick to bring your mouth down to his balls, your hand jerking him off to compensate. you brought each ball into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks as you applied pressure with your tongue as it moved against it, your hand slowly tightening up around his member and jerking it off. the way that he had started flexing his arms in self control and how he moved his hips at particular sucks gave him away, letting you know that you were on the right path.

letting his balls go with a slight pop, you moved to his tip, taking it into your mouth as you pressed the tip of your tongue on the underside of it, eyeing the way that he let out heavy breaths and a few soft moans at your action.

not wasting anymore time, you slowly took his member into your mouth, welcoming the way that it filled your mouth up.

“fuck, y/n” he moaned slightly louder this time, his nose crinkling as his hips bucked up a bit, hitting the back of your throat but for not too long.

you added pressure by hollowing out your cheeks and pressing against his underside with your tongue, loving the way that you could feel a few veins against your soft muscle.

at first, tobio was never one for blow jobs, because he didn’t like how vulnerable he looked, especially because you could see him the whole time, but the way that he clenched his fists onto the sheets and let his mouth gape open with a few moans leaving it told you that he had gotten over than irrationality.

“y/n, I’m close” he whispered softly, his heavy panting not any louder than the frogs from outside, but much more captivating and motivational as you continued, helping him find that bliss.

your hands were warm against his balls as you kept bobbing your head on his cock, sometimes sucking especially hard on the tip or adding the tiniest bit of teeth to scrape against his skin the way he liked it. you could feel he was getting close by the way his balls tensed up and he lost track of his breathing, a final deep thrust into your mouth confirming your suspicions.

“o-oh, fuck, y-y/n” he moaned loudly, biting his lip as he thrusted a few more to ride out his high, one of his hands caressing your head.

you eyed the way that his chest rose up and down in heavy breathing and how his jaw clenched with the satisfaction of filling your mouth with his cum. but as soon as his relief came, so did sleep, slurring his movements.

“hmm, thank you, I feel better now” he mumbled softly, kissing your lips and scrunching up his face at the slight taste of him on your lips.

“anything for you, baby, now go win that match tomorrow.”

tags: @kingtamakimurder 

the only thing ive finished lately is a discord avatar but wowie ive been sketchin

She-Ra Rewatch: season 3 and onwards through season 4, and boatloads of Introspection time!

So Ive been rewatching She-Ra with my partner, because sharing Entrapdak is caring. I could probably squee on about that for a century or more (because eeee, sharing things i love with people i love AND THEY EVEN PAY ATTENTION TO THE THINGS AND REMEMBER THEM!)...but ill spare you, kind internet strangers who for some reason find my thoughts mildly interesting enough to be reading this. This is going to be a lot. Like, a LOT. A lot especially from a stranger that youve probably only seen a notification from due to me sticking a heart on your content or for reblogging something lovely youve made in pictures or words. I dont think anything is going to be violently trigger-y because im not always great at judging that stuff and also ive yet to feel quite comfy enough to be  fully open-posting specifics about my own past trauma, other than a vague allusion to self-harm and distant-ish unspecified abuse aaaand the usual childhood garbage truck of assholes....but i suppose you could possibly draw some darker potential conclusions from the content im focused on. Also, my ADHD makes it incredibly hard to keep to a straight and non-branching narrative so...ramble-y bits and expressions of brain frustration ahoy. Either way...you are forewarned, just in case. Sorry in advance, this is going to be a small booklet by the time Im done explaining, and thinking, and then attempting to stick words to abstract feels which sometimes im great at, and then others i fucking suck at...but at least this is all written and not me trying to say this to any of your faces! Thats....a mercy all of its own. Haa...  Anyway, while rewatching with my partner, I realized just how much more painful parts of it are to sit through now...they were the first time, and each time since, but NOW having spent a while mulling over the series as a whole a bunch, and reading a lot of other peoples writings on here and finding myself largely in agreement with most Entrapdak fan’s assessment of things, I just....feel like all the air is ripped out of me during some moments, watching  with keener insight. And despite thinking i had myself reasonably well figured out by my age, its all also made me further consider a few things about myself as well. Particularly my notable internalized fury response to chunks of it which have been consistent through all my viewings of SPOP. With Hordak at least, its way easier to understand my reactions. For me at least. Maybe not so much for the people around me. And, shittier due to intensity and subject matter, but still easier in the long run because...the broken bits in me that he resonates with are fresher and sharper and still more recent, like within the last ten years, and thus more towards the front shelves in my head, compared to things that resonate with Entrapta, which are all old, lifelong dull aches at this point. I feel like nothing i can point to is fully sufficient to fully express my feels involving Hordak. But, maybe the best representative moment is with the crying i do every damn time I see his face looking up at Prime just after he glimmer and catra were beamed up...because ive seen that face in the mirror. I HAVE MADE THAT FACE. That same. Goddamn. Face. I may not have gotten a jab to the back of the neck directly from the person I made it at...but they often seemed to silently goad me to harm myself in an attempt to jolt my brain out of getting stuck in re-looping through what theyd just done/said to me. Likewise, much of his interactions with Entrapta are very...very weirdly familiar in feeling, but in a good way. Watching the stuff with Hordak hurts because fuck me if it isnt frequently like watching myself back in 2008ish to 2013, which was the duration of the worst parts of that particular circle of hell i parked my ass in. So...that makes sense. Hes so well written in those moments, it occasionally gave me PTSD flashbacks (still does a little, but now im prepared and braced for it and can shrug it back off....thanks, lifetime of therapy and years of studying abnormal psychology! Still totally not an expert, just very passionate...just, as a disclaimer).  Entrapta though...Entrapta is a different story. Mostly, I see Entrapta and in her free expressions of delight and joy and her bouncy enthusiasm I am reminded of a younger, less discouraged me in some ways, and in others, a “me” I could have been, but...well, extremely early-onset anxiety and depression made me insanely self-conscious super-super early on...not that i was great at hiding or...i guess the term people seem comfy with is “masking”? Which was a huge problem, or so it was in the 80s when far less was understood of such things. Id do so for a bit and then would forget to, in a way (because id forget long enough to go and trust again reflexively) and would get badly bullied and would squish everything down until id feel a crumb of safety again, and then almost instantly ADHD would pop that mask right the rest of the way off aaand it would start all over again. Ad nauseam until my teen years, where the depression sort of “fixed” that, and made it much easier to destroy my desire to share much of myself freely at all, save for with one or two people, and to a less deep extent a broader circle of nerd friends. Course, then i hit 30 and ran out of the majority of fucks I used to give. Or I became so damaged and salted with anger that parts of me dont grow any fucks anymore? Either way, plowshares to swords, WHEEEE!) And, maybe thats where this time while watching, I started to really think back to all that, and to how i see Entrapta treated by the other princesses, or really just in general except by Hordak...and why it burns my biscuits so badly. Every time I see someone roll their eyes at Entrapta’s beautiful unbridled enthusiasm or try to make it seem distasteful or at least weird and unwanted and uncomfortable for them but then dont even bother to try coming to terms with why they feel that way... or how they seem to feel free to grab and manhandle her without her consent, or the way they try to lessen her contributions because shes non-normative? Like its the fucking least she can do to make up for being weird in their space (...okay, that might just be the anger kicking in..but i dont feel like its an entirely innacurate assessment, is it?)  All of that...seeing it inflicted upon someone, It feels like someones punched me right in the damn sternum, but because its a hurt that im so desensitized to, it seems to have a much different effect than the sharp, violent crushing pain that i feel when I relate to Hordak a little too well for comfort. Again, i could go on, but its nothing more eloquent people on here havent already spoken volumes on. And my first gut reaction is always “I dont understand! why is that their reaction to her?! it doesnt seem logical at all, i dont seem to be able to parse it correctly, how is this acceptable? I HOPE SHE IMMOLATES YOU ALL.”. Which...I suppose isnt entirely usual for me (the silent wishing that people be immolated, I mean...i blame my past years of working in retail. And devouring too much Warhammer 40k contentl).  (oh gods...and this is going to be the most clusterfucky part cause i can feel my meds kicking in and thats gonna be hard to keep coherence on but i gotta get this all out of my head or ill forget it or get too scared of you fucking BRILLIANT insightful smart people on here and then ill continue to live scared and regretful that i never said..anything, and just sat here like “noticeme, entrapdak sempais!”  Ehhn...which is to say, if this is a garbage dump from here down, dont worry, when i wake up ill fix it...but hopefully itll at least make a tiny bit of sense ) But I realized something...something I hadnt ever rememberd much about due to the shitty neuronormative (apology if thats wrong term) behaviors continuing over years and years but in less and less directly aggressive ways as i grew older and was more prone to losing my shit in , (and likely because I got excessively lucky and managed through...uhhh...agonizing determination? Sheer stubbornness? Alleviatory rebalancing of universal karma? fuck if i know --to  curate a surprisingly supportive circle of other castoffs and misanthropes.) That was exactly how people used to treat me.  OKAY THISLL BE EDITED LATER to add in the rest of what i was gonna say...im...too full of Ambien sleep meds and damn write it anymore...and im aing trouble separating realigty and dream...an i k apawing at the kybord...not safe Lov yous for reading this far. Il fix it later, swears.

  Wyatt crosses the threshold like a whirlwind. His face is pale, a sickly ash paired with something in his eyes that speaks of plain horror. In his arms, he carries a bundle of blankets.   A moving bundle of blankets.   He brushes past Lysander without a word, heading straight into the living room. The last time he’s seen his brother like this, their father had raised his hand against Lysander for the first time out in the open. The same look of shock, the same fear that goes bone-deep. But there’s no anger woven through this time. Only the face of a scared boy.

  “Did something happen?” Lysander asks softly as he takes a seat next to Wyatt. His eyes are fixed on the bundle in his lap – which still writhes. Here Lysander thought maybe he’d imagined that.   Wyatt bites his lip. There are dark circles under his eyes, almost as though they’re bruises. But his eyes are reddened, blood vessels popped the way they do when he doesn’t sleep well and goes to work trying not to fall asleep. He nods, a little frantic, and winces when Lysander raises a hand to place it between his shoulder blades.   “I think I’m losing it,” he whispers, and his voice shakes.   Lysander furrows his brows. “Losing it?”   “It’s,” Wyatt begins and slips a hand into the bundle on his lap. It makes a sound between a purr and a satisfied grunt. “The other day, I was… we were having dinner. The boys and I. And Sicheng was hogging the cucumber salad, and I – I didn’t wanna get up and get it, but he wasn’t listening ‘cause he was talking to – anyway, I wanted that salad and I was really annoyed and suddenly the bowl stood right in front of me. Just. Gone. Like… “   He licks his lips. Runs his free hand through his hair, unstyled like it seldom is. Turning his head, he gives Lysander a brief look as though he tries to gauge his reaction but doesn’t have the heart to stay for the result. Lysander’s chest tightens at the sight.   “And that… happened again, a few days later. So I sat down and… and… “ His eyes drift away to the scented candle sitting on the coffee table. He extends his free hand, frowns, and from one second to the next, the candle sits snugly in his palm. Lysander’s mouth drops open.   “You saw that, right?” Wyatt asks, staring at Lysander again. “I told the others, but they didn’t notice shit, and told me I needed to take a nap or something. But I don’t need a damn nap. Please, tell me you saw that.”   Quickly, Lysander nods. “I saw that, yes. You moved the candle without actually moving it.”   Wyatt lets out a breath that sounds uncharacteristically relieved. He puts the candle away and leans back, shoulders slumping. “You saw it. Thank god.” The bundle in his lap makes the same noise as before, still writhing under the heap of blankets.   This is the exact definition of a deja vu. When Lysander’s magic first manifested, it started out with tiny things, too. Turning on the electric kettle from his spot on the couch, switching off the light without having to physically do it. He’d chalked it up to being forgetful at first, to having done everything the way it’s supposed to and simply forgetting about it. But Wyatt is acutely aware of what’s happening, albeit scared of it. To think he would possess the same powers Lysander does is beyond odd. He’d thought him to be fully human.   Touch gentle, he brings his hand up to run it through the hairs on the back of Wyatt’s head. Wyatt melts into it, leans to the side to settle his weight against Lysander’s shoulder. When he speaks again, his eyes have drifted closed.   “But that’s not the weirdest part.” He unpacks the bundle on his lap, all careful and slow. There, in between soft fabric sits a small animal, a puppy with golden fur and a mane like a lion. It yips and shivers and tries to burrow back into the blanket. Wyatt curves a palm around its head. It nuzzles into it an instant.   “Wyatt,” Lysander whispers, gaze fixed on the puppy. “Is that –”   “So you can see him?” Wyatt interrupts him. He straightens in his seat, curling his fingers under the puppy’s chin. “None of the others can. That’s weird, right? How can that be?”   Lysander doesn’t have an answer. This puppy, this tiny bundle of fur, is a product of Wyatt’s magic – that much he is sure of. But why would it be invisible to other people? And, more importantly, why does he see it, then? Tentative at first, he reaches out to let the puppy sniff his fingers. It looks up at him with wide, crimson-red eyes and wags its tail. Wyatt watches, looking from Lysander to the puppy and back.   “He… says you smell nice.”   “Oh.” Lysander’s face softens. He rubs a finger over the puppy’s nose, then scratches it gently behind its perky ears. “Thank you, little one.”   Wyatt still looks beyond spooked, but some of the tension has left his body. It’s easy to imagine what he went through. Discovering all of this and having nobody believe him takes a toll even on someone like him, usually so full of confidence and wit. He seems much younger like this. More innocent.   “How… did you get him?” Lysander asks after a short stretch of silence, and it makes Wyatt curl in on himself a little. He takes a deep breath, as though to steel himself.   “I went to bed early yesterday ‘cause I was feeling like shit. When I woke up in the middle of the night, he was… right there. Sleeping next to me. So I just went back to sleep. I still felt like ass and was pretty sure I was dreaming. But then he woke me up, licking my face all over. And when I went to tell the others, they didn’t believe me. ‘Cause they can’t see him.” He marks a pause, brows knitting together. “He… talks. That’s… super weird, right? But only I can hear him. I don’t know what’s happening, Lys.”   Lysander brings his hands up to Wyatt’s face to cup it. “That’s all right, little brother. I do.”   “Y-you do?” Wyatt’s eyes go wide.   “It’s nothing terrible, I promise. You’re not crazy.” As he speaks, he calls for Almond over their rapport, and he appears like he always does with a quiet poof, perching himself atop Lysander’s shoulder. Immediately, Wyatt recoils.   “What –”   “He’s my familiar,” Lysander answers before Wyat finishes his question. “My… well, we’re connected. He speaks, too, but only I can hear it. I, and other familiars.”   Cooing, Almond jumps down from Lysander’s shoulder to sniff curiously at the puppy.Who’s he? He’s tiny! Whatever the puppy responds makes Almond burst into giggles.   “I still don’t get it,” says Wyatt with a frown, and he sounds so lost that all Lysander wants to do is pull him close and hug him. But he resists the urge, too determined to clear that confusion.   “This’ll be a lot to take in,” he says, folding his hands in his lap. “And I know what it sounds like. I didn’t want to believe it at first, either.” This time, it’s he who takes a deep breath. “I’m a witch, Wyatt. And I think you are, too. These things happening to you? It’s your magic manifesting. And this little guy,” he gestures towards the puppy, “is your familiar.”   As expected, Wyatt gapes for a long, long moment, before he says, slowly, “You’re a… witch. Like… like in the movies? Potions and spells and… “   Lysander nods. “Yes. And no. It’s… a little different, I think. But I do work spells, and I do know how to make potions. I’m still starting out, but it’s getting there.”   And just like that, a weight lifts from Lysander’s chest. How many times did he try to work up the courage to tell Wyatt this? How many times did he start, fully intending to stop hiding the truth, only to get scared at the very last second? Wyatt is difficult, after all. Ignorant in many ways, even if he doesn’t seem too conscious of it. He has his beliefs and his opinions, most of them formed by their close-minded parents, and changing them is like pulling teeth. So Lysander steels himself for a comment that may cut deep, may hurt.   Instead, Wyatt nods, mouth still hanging open. “And I’m… like that, too? But why didn’t I know before? Why now?”   “I’m not sure. My magic didn’t come around until a few months ago, either. So –”   “A few months ago? You’ve been a – a witch or whatever all this time and you didn’t tell me?”   A laugh slips out of Lysander’s mouth, dry and void of humor. “How was I supposed to do that? How do you just tell someone this? I’m still learning, myself. Sometimes, it’s hard for me to believe it. I’m sorry, Wyatt. I wanted to tell you sooner, I really did.”   Wyatt falls silent again. Pets the puppy, who has since started cuddling with Almond, like he did before, and then says, “I… need to think about this. Can you… can you take care of him for a while? Just… I don’t know.”   The puppy startles with Wyatt moving to get up, yipping at him.   “Wyatt, please. He’s your familiar. You can’t –”   “I don’t – care right now, okay? I need to… this is too much.”   He’s on his feet before Lysander has a chance to stop him, out of the door before he gets another word in. A part of Lysander isn’t surprised, not about the reaction and not about how much it smarts, but another wishes that, for once, Wyatt would have changed. He looks down at the puppy – Wyatt’s familiar – and sighs. Almond licks the puppy all over in a means to soothe it, but it only makes the quiet whines that come out of its tiny snout louder, more miserable.   Lysander grabs his phone and sends an emergency text Qiaomeng’s way. He, hopefully, will know what to do.