Can I please make a wuwa request involving Geshu Lin where the reader is his child and the scenario is similar to the one between Vander and Vi during the first episode of Arcane, I mainly want to see how he would react if the reader came home with injuries.
Not Every Battle Must Be Won
Summary: After returning home injured from a fight, you find yourself face-to-face with your father, Geshu Lin. The former general of the Midnight Rangers is not pleased, but rather than anger, his response is something heavierâconcern, disappointment, and a lesson in what true strength means.
Tags: Geshu Lin x Reader, Platonic, Father-Child Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Parent, Tough Love, Battle Philosophy, Emotional Conversations.
Warnings: Mentions of injuries (bruises, cuts, minor bleeding), References to past battles and violence, Parental discipline (stern but caring), Themes of self-worth and strength.
The door to your quarters slammed shut behind you, the sound echoing in the dimly lit room. You wincedânot just from the pain lancing through your bruised ribs, but from the heavy presence waiting inside.
A shadow shifted in the far corner, where embers flickered faintly along the jagged edge of a massive greatsword. The dim light caught on fractured armor, battle-worn and scorched. He was already here.
Geshu Lin.
Your father.
His broad frame was rigid as he sat at the old wooden table, his hands resting against his knees. The air between you crackled with something heavier than silenceâdisappointment, concern, something unspoken yet undeniable.
His gaze landed on you, piercing and sharp. He didnât need to ask. The blood on your lip, the bruises darkening your arms, the way you held your sideâhe had seen it all before, on the battlefield, on his soldiers. But you werenât a soldier. Not yet.
You swallowed hard, shifting awkwardly under his stare. âIt wasnât my fault.â
Geshu Lin exhaled through his nose, slow and measured, but the heat in his Tacet Mark flared briefly. The glow along his neck pulsed like a heartbeat, like a warning.
âSit.â
It wasnât a request.
You hesitated, but obeyed, lowering yourself onto the bench across from him. The wood felt cold against your skin. He said nothing at first, reaching for a strip of cloth on the table. With the same hands that had wielded a blade capable of cleaving through monsters, he took yoursâgently, but firm enough that you couldnât pull away.
The silence stretched as he wrapped the cloth around your scraped knuckles, his movements precise, practiced. He had done this a thousand times for his soldiers, for himself. But this wasnât a battlefield. You werenât supposed to be a casualty.
âWho.â His voice was gravel, low and steady.
You bit the inside of your cheek. If you told him, if you let him handle it, there would be no second chances for whoever had done this.
âI handled it.â
His fingers stilled. You braced yourself, expecting anger, maybe even disappointment. But when he finally spoke, it wasnât either.
âYou think youâre ready,â he murmured. âYou think strength is just taking hits and standing back up.â
Your jaw tightened. âIsnât it?â
His hand moved to your chin, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. The Tacet glow along his neck flickered again, barely contained.
âNo,â he said, voice quiet but heavy with something that made your chest tighten. âStrength is knowing when to stand down. When to walk away.â
You opened your mouth to argue, but his grip shifted, pressing lightly against your bruised ribs. The sharp pain made you suck in a breath.
âStrength is knowing when to fight and when to live another day,â he continued. âWhen you carry my name, you donât get the luxury of reckless decisions.â
His words hit harder than any strike youâd taken earlier. You clenched your fists, the fresh bandages tightening against your skin.
âI just⊠I donât want to be weak,â you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
Something in his expression softened, just for a fraction of a second. He leaned back, arms crossing over his broad chest. âThen donât waste your strength on proving something to fools who donât matter.â
You exhaled shakily, your fingers curling against your bandaged palm.
He stood, towering over you, casting a long shadow. âNext time, if you must fight, make sure the battle is worth it.â
Then, softer, quieterâwords meant for you alone:
âAnd come home in one piece.â
You nodded, swallowing past the lump in your throat.
Geshu Lin turned away, the glow of his Tacet Mark fading as he reached for his greatsword. But even as he moved toward the door, you knewâhe wouldnât be far.
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Egyptian geese are fiercely territorialâso much so, theyâll chase off much larger birds (and the occasional jogger) if you get too close to their goslings.
No. 4: âDonât be scared, Iâve done this before.â Non-Human Whumper | Iron Rod | Loss of Powers
Hello, here's my contribution for day 4 of Whumptober 2025, for the prompt "Loss of powers". It's OC whump. Captivity, mild child abuse, drugged whumpee, but nothing graphic. Check the tags and you should be good ! And I will make a post about lore one day (i'm going to add this at every post and never do it)
JUSTINE, HELIOS (DAY 5)
He comes to pull her from the room she shares with her father in the morning. Sheâs still asleep when he enters. She sleeps a lot. Dad says itâs the effect of the drug. At first, he fought for her to get the bracelet instead and take the injection himself, but their captor refused and hurt her father when he tried to intervene. Justine burst into tears the first time it happened. Her father stopped resisting quickly after that. It doesnât change the outcome anyway, and the man keeps his word: just one injection before bringing her back.
He arrives at the usual time. Itâs her father who wakes her up with a gentle hand on her arm and soft whispers.
âHurry it up,â the now-familiar voice snaps from the background, while Justine, only half-awake, tries to focus on her fatherâs face.
âShe has trouble waking up because of the drug,â her father retorts sharply.
Still, he helps her sit up. Justine grimaces despite herself, dizzy, clinging to him. She knows whatâs coming.
Dad gives her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, then lets go and moves to the back of the room. He slides down the wall, next to the metal ring fixed into the wall.
âGood.â
The girl trembles, partly from the loss of her fatherâs warmth and the blanket, partly from stress. She hates whatâs coming, with the little energy she has left. Their captor turns to her, towering and threatening, arms outstretched.
âAll right, come here.â
The strong hands sliding under her arms make her shiver harder, but she doesnât have a choice. She does her best, standing unsteadily, more or less collapsing into those hot arms. He supports her effortlessly, pressing her to his side and dragging her toward the door. She hears her fatherâs ragged exhale. Heâs carrying her more than helping her walk, pulling her in the hallway.
He lets go briefly, the door slamming shut behind them with the click of the lock. Justine grabs his shirt by reflex as she stumbles. Itâs not the first time, and he doesnât seem to care. In fact, his grip adjusts, practiced, pressing her closer against him. His shirt smells of detergent and cologne. Almost like her fatherâs usual scent, though not the same brand.
âTrouble standing, huh?â
Tears sting her eyes. As if he doesnât already make sure of that every morning with the injection.
âCome along.â
The injections are never done in the bedroom. Always in the bathroom, with a disposable needle. Justine doesnât know why. If heâs afraid her father might try something, he could easily restrain him, but he never does. Instead, sheâs dragged to the bathroom for the injection, then returned to the bedroom with breakfast.
This time, he lifts her fully in his arms on the stairs. Without warning. She yelps and clings desperately, horrified by the dizzying sensation and sudden closeness. He laughs a little, tightening his grip.
âEasy. Youâre fine. I donât have the patience to help you down this morning, this is quicker.â
He takes a moment to balance himself before descending. Every forward lurch of his weight terrifies her, and she digs her fingers into his white shirt.
âEasy,â the man repeats. âLook, here we are.â
He kicks the bathroom door open without putting her down, then sets her at the foot of the tub. Sheâs too lethargic to sit up properly, butâŠ
This is unusual. Normally, he sits her on the counter. Why here? And thereâs a thick folded blanket beside her. Whatâs that for?
Her eyes widen. A bracelet⊠her magic nullifier bracelet? Sheâs seen the ones her father and Lucien wear. Her father had gone pale when he first noticed his. Honestly, Justine thinks her father also suffered from strong side effects from losing his magic, but the drugs leave her too exhausted to be sure. She hasnât been around Lucien enough to judge.
And yet he does. Justine can only watch as he pulls a deceptively beautiful metal bracelet from a velvet pouch.
She doesnât want it. She doesnât want to know what it feels like to lose her powers. She wants to go back to the warm house she shares with her dad, to go to school in the mornings and to see her friends. Not stay trapped in this cold unfamiliar house, in a foreign country, with a man who kidnapped them and is completely delusional.
âWe can stop the injections. Itâll be more comfortable for everyone in the long term.â
The smile he gives her is sharp and cruel.
âYou know what that means for you and your father, little one?â
She doesnât want to hear it. A vague terror takes shape inside her, dulled by the drug.
He brushes a strand of hair off her shoulder. Justine canât stop a whimper, trying to shrink back only to be trapped by the cold bathtub behind her.
âAh ah, no moving.â
He tugs playfully at her hair. Sheâs going to throw up. She feels sick, dizzy, terrified. So young.
âCouple of rules first: if you feel sick, tell me. If you need to throw up, itâs in the tub. If youâre cold, thatâs what the blanket is for.â
He studies her for a few seconds. Sheâs too exhausted and drowned in fear to meet his ice-blue eyes.
âThough I think youâre still too doped up to really care. All right, your wrist.â
He takes it without asking.
âHere we go.â
âŠand snaps the heavy bracelet shut around her wrist.
ItâsâŠ
When Justine was very little, her uncle once showed her how a flame goes out when you cover it with a test tube. Sheâd been thrilled at the simple science trick, like the child she was. Later, of course, it seemed unimpressive. But the first time she saw the flame suffocate in the glass, it had felt magical.
Now, the bracelet is the test tube smothering the flame of her magic.
Thatâs how it feels. One instant, the pulse of her power thrums in her chest, in her veins, down to her fingertips, slow and heavy, but undeniably part of her. The next, the bracelet blows it out. Not weakened, not contained, but gone. As if it had never existed. Justine is left with an absence, a void where warmth had always been, as far back as her memory goes.
Only absence.
The mage hauls her over the tub just as bile rises. Acid burns her throat. Thereâs nothing in her stomach, just sour liquid splattering the porcelain.
âAh, I thought so,â a voice murmurs near her ear.
He pulls her against his chest and another wave of nausea hits. Black dots swim in her vision, and suddenly she feels submerged, sound echoing everywhere, words incomprehensible. Itâs impossible. You canât live with a gaping void where warmth used to be.
Sheâs shifted again, still against him, then wrapped in something soft and warm. The blanket?
Adjustments will be neededâmore work, modifying his long-term plans, adapting the house for two extra peopleâbut he can manage. He has the means, and the will. He wonât waste this opportunity.
âPlease⊠give it back,â the child mumbles, curling deeper into the blanket.
Hm. Losing magic is hard on anyone. Heâs only experienced it once himself, and⊠letâs just say the training had to be cut short. Lucien and the healer reacted less violently, but maybe itâs individual. Heâll take her to her father. Heâll watch her closely, make sure symptoms donât turn into something serious. Rare, but it happens. Anyway, he took the day off on purpose to stay home in case of problems. At least now they can stop the drugs. Expensive, hard to get decent quality, and dangerous in the long term. Heâs been using strong doses to keep her subdued, and the girl is already lethargic. The bracelet cancels magic without much other side effects, so she should regain a normal energy level.
Once sheâs stronger, in a few days, heâll hold a little meeting with her and her father to explain the change in their situation, and the new rules it entails.
For now, sheâll have to get used to the sensation.
He has to push her a bit to rinse her mouth and drink some water, but once thatâs done, he scoops her back up and carries her to the bedroom. The weight in his arms feels strange, but less so than the first time. Warm. Alive. Very pleasant. She whimpers against his shirt. Poor thing.
so I have a deep, abiding love for the very specific trope where the child is so much more powerful than the parent but the parent still puts themself between the child and danger. where the parent holds the child tight and whispers soothing reassurances, voice taut because the child is gripping their arm hard enough to fracture something. where the parent remains strong and defiant and protective, despite their fragile body, holding their invulnerable child.
this trope works even better if said parent and said child are nominally on opposing sides of the conflict, if said parent is unused to showing affection, and if said childâs other parent is similarly invulnerable but itâs the weak, fragile, human parent thatâs the one that saves them.
âcan you please sit down, I can literally see how many of your bones are broken,â Superman pleads, hovering over the ruins of a base that was used for âexperimentingâ on metahumans right up until its untimely destruction.
âyouâre not taking my son away from me,â Lex snarls, glowering at the most powerful being on the planet.
âfirst of all, heâs our son, and second of all, you need a hospital--â
âIâm fine,â Lex says, despite all evidence to the contrary. he wobbles on his feet, still somehow carrying a teenage half-Kryptonian thatâs fast asleep in his arms.
âLex,â Clark says, half-exasperated, half-desperate, before he gives up on reason and scoops up both parent and child. he can be sure Lex wonât use his kryptonite with Kon right there, no matter how many threats the man squawks in his ear. heâll have to keep an eye out for the next couple of weeks though, heâs pretty sure Lex will build a robot army out of spite from his hospital bed.
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If you only knew I'd sacrifice my beating heart before I lose you
Taking the liberty of writing stories for on of the newest pair of OCs that @thethistlegirlwrites created. I enjoy being inspired by other people's writing.
Summary: Nico gets interrogated by the equivalent of the IAB in Chimera.
@febuwhump
They had been stuck there for hours, reviewing his past, how he was turned, how he lived after the turning and the things he did. Domenico Pontevecchio never thought his unlife in LA would turn this bad when he woke up on Thursday. He never thought Damien would follow him here, and then try to turn his unlife upside down.
Again.
As if he didn't escape New York City to find some peace.
He should have known. It never worked out for the good guys. Or those who thought they were good. Nico hoped he was one of those. On his bad days he knew he didn't deserve to be still walking on earth. But today was one of the exceptionally bad days, yet he did not feel like that. He felt like he had to prove himself, that he was good. And his self deprecation and depressive thoughts had to wait.
He was rapidly losing his patience, the longer the woman they sent, spent on spinning him in circles. She was trying to prove a point, and Nico was tired of being the punchline of it.
"For the last time, he came at me with a silver gun in one hand and a stake in the other. Once he let go of my son, that is. What else do you want me to say? It was self defense."
"And what happened next?"
Nico flashed back to that moment on the roof. The fear in his kid's eyes, he wasn't sure if it was for him or the vamp that had his arm around his kid's throat, or for his father, Nico himself. Shay and Sierra were there too, following close behind him when they got the tip that the vamp who held Nico's kid hostage was seen in the area. Joey was with him when they got the news and she told him that she would do recon when they arrived at the scene.
She was good at blending in between the shadows, and Nico learned that she would do anything, at any cost, to help people in need. Especially those she cared about. What Nico did to deserve that care directed his way, he couldn't quite tell just yet.
Then it all happened like in the movies: they found his kid and the vamp who had him, they chased him, cornered him, and that prompted the vamp to climb the stairs of the old building they cornered him at. Human Nico would have cursed at the lack of an elevator in the building, because twenty flights of stairs would have been stretching his strength, even for his size and physicality, but as a vamp, strength and speed did not matter.
Nico must have gotten lost in thought, because his interrogator looked like she called his name several times before she realized Nico was not there with his head.
"I'm sorry, did you say something?"
The woman's face changed when she brought her chair closer to him and sat down.
"I was asking you what happened next and then you disappeared on me. Do you wish to take a break before we continue?"
Nico shook his head.
"No, I want to get done with this as soon as possible."
He did not want to be confined in the interrogation room longer than he was supposed to. And he didn't want the woman in front of him to know the darkest thoughts he had at that moment. The fear he experienced when he saw his son hanging off the roof for a split second before the vamp released him and Shay and Sierra got him to safety before they returned. By then it was too late, Nico pushed the vampire off the roof, after accidentally shooting him with his own gun. He survived, but the incident was documented and reported by someone who thought Nico did it on purpose. For revenge.
Given the stains on his record from the past, Nico was grateful they did not kick him out of the mentoring program outright.
"So, let's summarize, Mr. Pontevecchio. The vampire whom you pushed off the roof of the building, by accident, according to your claims, kidnapped your son from his dorm room on Friday. You got a distress call from your son's cell phone, something you two set up if he was ever in trouble. That was before or after you turned?"
"Before."
"Okay. And after that you told Maira Lawson about what happened, right?"
"No, I told my mentee first."
"Josefina Quintero?"
"That's right."
"Why is that?"
"We were on a job together when the call came and she probably saw how distressed I was, and asked what was wrong. Believe me, I didn't know where my head was at that moment. That man is very dangerous, and the longer he had my boy..."
Nico did not finish that sentence, remembering the sight of his partner's dead body and the sight of the blood pooling around his middle where Damien stabbed him. He delighted in watching Nico as he lay there, weak and vulnerable, unable to help his partner.
"Why do you think he took Riccardo from his dorm room?"
"To get my attention. He used to taunt me, back in NYC, before my turning, and after, until I got here. I visited Emma Cole's seminars to block out the connection with my sire. So far it's been effective. I guess he wanted to have me under his control again."
"The logical thing would be to get your son, right?"
"Yeah. And he guessed right. My son is my weak point. Ricky is one of the things I kept from my old life. I just never thought Damien would go so far to grab my boy."
"And when you faced him on that roof, what was your thought process?"
"My only priority was to have Ricky back with me. Ask the people that were with me, they will tell you."
"One human and two vampires, Mr. Pontevecchio. Don't forget that."
"You shouldn't forget that we might not be alive anymore, but that does not make us less human. Some of us have more humanity than you all put together."
Nico knew he shouldn't have snapped at the woman, but his nerves were frayed from all this questioning. What was even the point of all this?
"I'm sorry, Mr. Pontevecchio, I shouldn't have said that."
Nico sighed.
"What is the point of all of this, Mrs-"
"Van der Sar. And yes, before you ask, the famous soccer player is a distant relative."
"I wasn't going to ask, but I'm glad we cleared that out."
She put herself together and looked at the papers again. Nico tried to read her, but that was impossible to do. Mrs. Van der Sar was an enigma to him.
"The Agency wanted to make sure that everything was regular during the incident, because if it wasn't, they would have shut your program down, and that would put a dark spot in our record."
Nico knew exactly what she meant by that. Maira was a good director of the Agency, but there was always someone above her that wanted to keep things under control. So they sent the big guns. Sort of the equivalent of the IAB for federal agencies.
"Just tell me what happened, Nico. Confess if you have to. But don't try to get out of this mess by playing the grievous parent."
That enraged Nico. First, she used the name he allowed only the people close to him were allowed to use. Second, she made it sound like Nico wanted to do what he did.
It's not like I killed Damien.
"The only truth is that Damien had a gun with silver bullets in one hand and a stake in the other. He didn't specify that, but when he fired one of the bullets to incapacitate Shane Barrett, I figured it out. Ask him, I'm sure he'll have some choice words about that." Nico kept eye contact the whole time and noticed that the woman interrogating him was sweating and uncomfortable. Good.
"He was taunting me, as always, dangling my son in front of me like a carrot, expecting me to follow and I did. He was ready to throw my boy from the roof. I couldn't let that happen. That's when he changed his mind and let Ricky go. Barrett and Stoker took him with them and got him to safety."
"And then you pushed him."
"Then, he stared at me like he was amused. Ended up throwing the stake on the rooftop, but he still had his gun trained on me. I couldn't afford to let him shoot me and escape, so I tried to come up with something until Stoker and Barrett returned. But once again he was unpredictable. He tucked his gun in his pants and came at me. I gave as good as I got in that fight. It was either him or me. And he has done enough damage for me to let him waste me, for good this time.
"It was not out of revenge that I pushed him, Mrs. Van der Sar. It just happened. He had me pinned, and I was trying to get free, but before I could do anything he had the gun out and pistol whipped me. I was dazed and confused, but I could see him aim that gun at me while his hand grasped the stake. He was going to kill me. So I flipped us, he lost momentum, we grappled for the gun and I barely even touched it when it went off. It must have turned towards him when we switched places. Next thing I know is Damien trying to pull me close to him, he still had the stake, and when I pushed on his shoulders to get him away from me, he slipped and fell. I swear I never noticed we were on the edge."
Just then the door to the interrogation room opened and in entered a very pissed off Maira, with Joey, Sierra, and Shay in tow. He could see some other members of both teams lurking in the hall behind them, and Nico had to do everything in his power not to smile and enrage the interrogator even more. He thought he saw Pete Jemison standing next to Kira Burke.
Good, there is backup in case things go belly up.
"What is the meaning of this?" Maira's voice boomed in the small and tight space that Nico was sure that it was supposed to be out of commission for how uncomfortable it was.
"The Headmaster sent me-"
"Then he should have notified me, before you cornered MY people!"
Nico suddenly sat up straighter in his chair and looked at Maira, then at Joey and the others. They looked like they were spoiling for a fight, especially Sierra and that made him wonder what happened. He knew that she was a Stoker and getting in trouble was the trademark of those with that name.
"What are you talking about?" Nico found himself asking Maira.
"I am talking about the Headmaster sending this woman to question MY team, and the young vampire you are mentoring."
"He did what?!" Nico pushed off his chair and watched Mrs. Van der Sar trying to put herself together. She couldn't hide her flinch, though. She was afraid of him. Now that there were more people in the room, she didn't look like she had things under control.
Nico knew women could be vicious when they wanted to, so he kept an eye on her.
"She wanted to get some dirt on you, pun not intended, to bury you, again, not intended, so the Headmaster could terminate the mentoring program. I guess those who say they want to see progress made aren't satisfied when the progress is actually happening."
Maira was spitting mad. Whatever happened, it was probably ugly.
"You have no right to come here and interrupt my investigation. You and your team can-"
"I'd be careful with what I say next, if I was you." This time it was Joey who spoke and Nico was proud of her and where she started versus where she was right then.
"Or what, you are going to say something back?"
"I can make sure you get new teeth if you prefer it to go that way."
The woman shut her mouth and looked at Joey like she wanted to slap her. Nico allowed himself to smile for a moment.
"The Headmaster will hear about this. This is outrageous."
"He already heard about this from all of us," Shay spoke next and she did not expect that, flinching again. Shay had a good five inches over Nico and he looked more menacing. "I'm pretty sure that a lot of people involved in this charade already know about this mess. We are not here to go down for an imaginary reason because your boss wants Nico out of the way."
Nico felt warmth spreading through him, despite the lack of warmth in the room he was in.
"I haven't finished with Mr. Pontevecchio. Yet!" The woman acted as if she was still the one in charge.
"You have. As of this moment, you are not to speak with him, or anyone else about this. I suggest you go and exorcise whatever demon you have, in a way that won't involve my people in the process. Mr. Pontevecchio acted in self defense when he pushed the vampire, an evil, rotten scum of the earth. There are several witnesses of this, including footage from a TV station helicopter. Ms. Quintero's sight is enhanced so much that she would have been able to tell what color the vampire's eyes were. She gave a sworn statement. Ms. Stoker and Mr. Barrett saw enough to back that story up. You are cornered, Mrs. Van der Sar, so I suggest you gather all your things and get the hell out of my building. Mr. Pontevecchio got a concussion out of that encounter and he needs to rest. Now, if you'll excuse us, we are leaving."
Maira motioned for Nico to follow them. He took a deep breath and released it. It was finally over. He was free.
With that came the headache he was trying to ignore ever since he was taken in for questioning. He winced at the pain that was pulling at his temples and wished there was something he could do to prevent the hurting.
He felt a presence next to him and he knew who it was even before she spoke up.
"You are hurting."
"Not more than usual."
"Have you done a lot of undercover work while you were with the New York agency?"
"Why?"
"If you were lying like this you would have died long before you actually did."
Nico spluttered and the movement made him wince again.
"You still want to insist you are not in pain? I think the only one that didn't notice was that turd who interrogated you."
"You mean they all know?"
"You got whacked on the head with a Colt Python, Domenico. What did you expect would happen?"
Sierra using his full name meant she was seriously worried.
"You know what you need."
"No. Absolutely not. I'm not going to do it. Nuh-huh."
"Do you want to suffer for days to prove a point or take a shot of the liquid that will cure you the fastest?"
Nico couldn't answer that. He wouldn't. If he agreed, then he would have to concede to drinking blood to heal. And that could lead to more things that could go wrong in the future. He couldn't risk it.
"Stubborn ex hunters are the worst patients, I swear."
"What do you mean?"
"Mild blood hangover is better than a multi day concussion, Nico. You forget I have a klutz at home that has given himself more concussions that I can count, and is also a vampire. I swear I'll have to train you all."
Nico smiled. Sierra wasn't a saint herself, but she meant well, and she tried to help.
"It can't get worse than this, I'm sure, Sierra."
Sierra stopped walking and he forced himself to do the same and face her. She had a scowl on her face.
"It can and it will if you let it continue for longer. And if you don't listen to me, I'll go get mi TĂo and he can tell you about what happened to Emma's arm."
That sounded scary and Nico gulped.
"Let us help you, Nico. You do not have to suffer."
He huffed a breath. He knew he lost the moment he looked into Sierra's convincing eyes.
"Okay, okay, I'll do it. But not more than the necessary amount of blood, got it?"
"Pinky promise."
Shs actually made him shake hands with pinkies. Other than being troublemakers, Stokers were also weird. But he didn't mind that.
Turning around, Nico noticed the others weren't around anymore. Where the hell did they go?
"They will wait for us at the Rowan house. Robin offered it to all of us, you included. At least it's better than your place."
Nico winced, but this time it wasn't from the headache. He was aware of the fact that he lived in a crappy one bedroom apartment, thanks to how hard it was to find a place to live in because he was a vampire. Not that things were any better if you were human. Going to Rowan house sounded way better than staying in his sad looking place.
"Okay. Anything else you have to tell me before we head out?"
"Not really, but, you do know you got a concussion because you don't have any cushion up there?" She pointed to her hair.
"Oh, shut up." But he was smiling. It was good to have someone in his corner.
The Protective Parents of Dceased: Hope at Worldâs End
So back when Dceased: Hope at Worldâs End #10 was release I made a post about how we see Talia act like a mom (in her own assassin way) well in Dceased: Hope at Worldâs End #11 we see more protective superhero/assassin parents.
Here we have Talia exhibiting the classic âdonât be an idiot Iâm trying to protect you, now do what I tell you to do.â mom move, but putting her own assassin-mom fighting off anti-living spin on that classic mom move.
Next up we have another classic mom move.
The classic âI see that you really care about my child. I approve.â one of the more well known, signature mom moves.
