#Hope this is good... I don’t know

[shorthaltsjester]

if i keep seeing so many people refer to ayden as an indication of an unknown softness in pelor i will start setting things on fire. just because YOU cannot handle nuance does not mean the story of exandria has not contained it and done so consistently. in fact the first in depth interaction that any party had with pelor (vex becoming his champion) was a portrayal of him that was explicit in his complexity. taken straight from the transcript for 1x104 elysium, “[vex you] spin and look, whereas there once was a burning star-- and to the rest of [vox machina], you see the painful, endless light that averts your gaze-- it doesn't hurt your eyes as much, and you can see the faint features, the soft cheeks, the hairless head, and the bright warm eyes of he who brings the dawn. And you can see the smile there, behind the light. “there is hope.”” sunlight can warm you and burn you in equal measure.

that burning image of the sun has much in common with a teenage boy who steps into a dark room, and reminds the dm that it’s not dark. the same way that a teenage boy who stands by as a woman who will not give up her worship of pelor is punished because he has more important responsibilities he must honour has much in common with a seemingly benevolent lord of the dawn might respond harshly to a cleric who asks if he is worth saving while he is trying to find a way to survive so he might keep helping to provide light. the gods aren’t simple and they never have been. i am as psyched about the particular angle that downfall is taking as anybody but it is already frustrating watching people act like the gods are suddenly more nuanced because they’re in literally mortal bodies when the entire Point of the gods in exandria in the various stories we’ve seen so far is that the only difference they have with mortals is the bounds of their power. they carry all the same flaws and the same profundity. just because so much of the fandom has reduced that to black and white flatness or faulty mapping onto real world religions (or the various traumas those might have caused individuals) doesn’t mean that complexity has been missing at all from the story.

[cantagirldrawinpeace]

Saw the title of today’s episode, can’t wait to watch my girlfriend get his ass kicked 🥰

[mochiwrites]

It’s dark out.

Moonlight casts a softness over the server that isn’t there during the chaos of the day, creating something uncanny and uncomfortable for a game such as this one; softness. It’s not something that lasts, not something that comes naturally here. And yet the moon remains with its soft glow, gentle light sitting around them all like a blanket.

It’s dark out, and it’s hard to see.

It’s just Skizz and him now, their third no longer tied to this Hell. Grian is stuck between jealousy and relief. There is no break for someone like him, no reprieve or rest. The pain of it all doesn’t stop when his lives run out, when he leaves this place—it only continues. It wraps around him, sinks into his skin, his heart. It digs its claws so deep in him that it leaves a permanent mark on his memory. He’s unable to forget any of it.

He has to tiptoe around Skizz when leaving, avoiding stepping on the arm the guy has thrown out to the side of his body. His loud snores grate on Grian’s sensitive ears, and the quicker he escapes the better. He tucks his wings in close as he climbs the bridges, Mumbo’s ecstatic voice ringing loud in his ears with each creak of wood under his feet. Grian holds onto the railings, but his grip is weak, loose.

He doesn’t need to ask himself where he’s going, or even think about it, really.

When he reaches the last of their bridges, he heads up the mountain. It almost feels familiar, like he’s done it one, two, three times before. Cherry blossoms drift to the ground around him, uncaring of the somber air that Grian carries with him. He almost wants to stop and shout at them, can’t you read the room? I lost my best friend today! But he doesn’t. He ignores the tranquility of the petals, ignores how he squishes some under his feet.

Some chests come into view, right at the center of the mountain. He passes by the three parrots, some bit of him happy to see them untouched. He’d have to fix them up himself if they were damaged (and knowing looks would be sent his way the following morning).

He knows he shouldn’t be surprised that no real infrastructure is up here. No base for safety from the night, a small farm or two. At least he’s learned to put torches down to ward off mobs.

Grian moves closer to the center, finding no one else around. Lizzie probably went off to see Joel, and Jimmy… who knows with him, really. That doesn’t matter much to Grian, not in this world where his brother is dead to him.

His eyes roam over to a pink bed, and ah.

Scar is awake, as if he were waiting for him.

Grian’s feathers ruffle slightly as he avoids making a big deal out of it, stalking toward him. The scarred man doesn’t say anything, simply scoots over some to make some room. Grian is quiet as he pulls the blanket back, sliding into place. In this world, he hates how perfectly he fits with Scar. It makes it hard to hate him, to commit to being enemies with him. How is it that Grian can so easily promise his own flesh and blood that he’ll kill him until he’s out of the game—but he can’t keep to being enemies with Scar for more than a session, if that?

It’d be… so much easier if Grian could just hate Scar. If he could kill him without mercy like he does with everyone else and go back to a world where hating Scar is never a need nor an option.

It’d be safer, if Scar hated him too.

(It would’ve been safer for Mumbo, too.)

Rough fingers card through his hair kindly. Grian burns. Something primal and angry and hurt claws at his chest. He lashes out much like a wild animal would, despite having sought Scar out on his own. “I hate you,” he tries to say, tries to keep any emotion out of his voice, tries to mean it.

(He couldn’t help Mumbo. But maybe here—)

Scar’s gaze softens, lacking any hurt. It only serves to frustrate Grian further. “You don’t.” He sounds so confident, so certain of it, like it’s some kind of universal truth that everyone has accepted except for Grian. “I don’t think you could hate me if you tried.” He’s smug.

“I can, and I do,” Grian argues with him, glaring.

“Mhm, and that’s why we’re best friends, huh?” Scar lifts a brow. “Why you gave me the mace and only wanted to ally with ol’ Scar instead of the Bamboozlers. Or why you’re here in my bed, gripping me like I’ll poof.”

“It was an underhanded kill.” Stop looking at me. “I would’ve done that with anyone.” Stop knowing me. “Your bed is the closest.”

Scar’s fingers in his hair don’t stop, soothing and gentle. It feels wrong. “But you didn’t. You wouldn’t have if it was TJ or Pearl.” His lips curl with amusement, “You can’t fool me with any of that.”

Grian doesn’t answer, and Scar doesn’t push.

Instead, he’s tentatively pulled closer, an arm sliding over his waist. It feels so familiar, in a different home, in a tower. Grian can almost imagine the sound of a llama bleating nearby. He huffs some frustrated noise, and lets the familiarity tug him in. He selfishly takes the comfort Scar gives him, as if they hadn’t been at each other’s throats just a few days ago. But Grian is selfish, and he takes what he wants. Scar is selfless, and is happy to give whatever Grian needs.

He exhales silently, right against Scar’s buttoned shirt. He doesn’t speak, so Scar does it for him, giving him an out. He always gives Grian some kind of door. “I put you back to 100/100 reputation with us.”

Grian can’t help but snort. “Did you put the heart back too?” Contradiction after contradiction.

“Oh, that was only for your name. No offense to Skizz but he and I aren’t like that.” Scar’s hand drifts down to the middle of Grian’s back, right between his wings. “I’ll show it to you tomorrow.”

“You probably shouldn’t,” Grian huffs, “might just explode it again if you kill me.”

“Probably. I’ll show it to you anyway.”

Grian rolls his eyes in return. “Better not betray me again then.” It wouldn’t be Scar who does it.

Scar’s eyes hold understanding. Grian almost wants to reach in and tear it out, replace it with the hatred he wants Scar to feel instead. He only digs his fingers into Scar’s shirt. “I’d be a fool to betray you after getting you back today.”

After getting you back.

Grian should be the one saying that. “Whatever,” he mumbles in return. He clings to Scar, allows himself that small mercy, that small kindness. Lips brush his hair.

“Sleep well, G.”

Neither of them say anything more.

[theythemmer]

phinktober day 11: ur fav AU

i dont rlly do AUs so i just drew them how i wish they would dress xo

(dan’s tats r carnations and snowdrops and phil’s r roses and honeysuckle. for no reason 🤗)

ALSO bonus version w makeup bc i couldn’t pick <3

[remxedmoon]

attack on @startagainaprologue!!!! go follow it neow.

(also greyscale version below the cut. ik this design is in greyscale but i will die without my colors (silly))

[akira-pink]

Have some zelink brainrot from me to you please enjoy

[loganslowdown4]

WHO LET HIM DRIVE?!?

[raeofgayshine]

Thinking again about the fact that when Eddie and Dustin finally convince Steve to play DnD with the party, all of them, but especially Eddie, quickly become exasperated with Steve who has extremely high charisma, and decides that he can fix almost any situation by flirting with whoever they were in conflict with. Especially the fucking monsters, this man is bound and determined to himself a monster boyfriend and until it happens, he will make every single person they come across fall in love with him. So naturally, this happens a lot:

Steve: I’m going to flirt with them

Eddie, exasperated: Steve, you can’t date this monster, he’s trying to kill you-

Steve: Hot.

Steve: I’ll flirt with them harder then

[dykesevika]

simple background/environment practice with Sevika <3

Men DNI

[ricky-mortis]

Have some Ted doodles- as a treat.

[dangerclaw]

This dude (Polites) really went through a ten year war and:

1. decided that life isn’t a battlefield

2. deliberately chose peace, then

3. died during a round of deadly whack-a-mole

The gods didn’t like his hope for a world of peace and harmony ig

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 11: seeing double

Totally not what this prompt meant, but I don’t care lol. I do care that I keep making Wild cry though, sorry buddy 😬

No clue if anyone cares anymore, but this has some brief age of calamity spoilers in it. Just a heads up.

Warnings: broken bone, discussed past character death

Ao3 link

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wild had two thoughts as he went plunging through the portal, the others’ frantic cries in his ears:

One, that hopefully Legend wouldn’t give him too smug of an ‘I told you so’ the next time he saw him, since Wild had entirely forgone his advice to stay away from Dark Link and was now plunging rapidly through the air. And two, well, at least I’m going to fall into the water down there.

Which he promptly did with an explosive splash.

It wasn’t so high up that he was badly hurt, but Wild was still thrown for a loop, and found himself crashing down a river with little sense of which way was up.

Water got in his mouth and he spluttered, trying to spit it out and also get his head above the surface so he could breathe. The current was fast here though, and Wild couldn’t do much except flail around like a drunk Zora.

Wait, could Zora get drunk?

He actually had no clue.

The current got suddenly faster, and Wild breathed in some water as he got smacked against the rocks, coughing and hacking as he struggled to get any air. He managed a wet gasp when his head briefly poked up, but then he was pulled under again.

Air wasn’t the only thing Wild had gotten when he went up though— he’d also gotten a sight of the river up ahead. And at the sight of the waterfall rapidly approaching, his struggles grew even more frantic.

I need to reach shore, he thought as he continued to cough and claw his way to the river’s edge in a panic. I need to reach shore now, I need air I need—

The angle of the water shifted, and Wild was shot out of the waterfall, the rapid change in direction making his head spin.

He found himself in open air, water still in his lungs, and he clumsily grabbed for his paraglider as the lake below rapidly approached. Wild managed to snap it open just in time, but he didn’t manage a good grip on the handle.

His arm slipped, and Wild slammed into the sand near the shore, a choked yell escaping him as pain blazed up his shoulder.

All he could do was cough up water for a minute and catch his breath, trying not to wrench his shoulder more. Something was broken in there; he wasn’t sure if it was his shoulder itself or his arm or collarbone, but it hurt. He could barely move without his whole arm lighting up in agony, and hoped blearily that none of the others had suffered the same fate as him.

Then he heard a splash behind him, and his stomach sank.

Had one of the others fallen in the portal already? Or was it something else? That hadn’t sounded big enough to be a splash from something falling from the waterfall, but then again, he could be wrong.

“There, look!”

The voice sounded familiar, but Wild couldn’t place it over the sound of the water behind him and the blood rushing in his ears. He tried to raise himself up, and pain tore across his senses, and for a minute all he could focus on was the fire ripping through his shoulder.

“—know who he is? He looks just like—”

“—in the water, don’t—”

Two voices floated around his head as the fire eased, and Wild took a deep breath, opening his eyes again. His hair had fallen in his face, and between that and his blurry vision he couldn’t see much, especially through the damp strands. Unless he moved again, but that seemed like a bad idea.

Wild groaned, blinking to try and get the hair away from his eyes, but he barely succeeded. His wet hair slipped to the side, but all he could make out were two blobs, silhouetted by the sun shining behind them.

Then he heard a soft gasp, and the sound of a weapon being drawn.

“How is this—”

“This has trap written all over it,” a different voice than the first interrupted, soft, but sharp. Cold steel nudged Wild’s chin, and he stiffened. “Don’t go near him.”

The other voice made a worried noise as Wild weakly coughed. “I don’t think he would have fallen down a waterfall on purpose and hurt himself like this if that were true.”

“It could still be a trick.”

“I know... but we won’t get any answers if he’s too dazed to speak.”

Wild heard a huff, then the sound of footsteps padding towards him in a familiar way. A hand settled over his shoulder, and Wild groaned again, a soothing noise coming from the voice.

“Hold on just a moment.”

Then a feeling like that of a gentle stream swept over his shoulder, quiet and small, but carrying the mighty power of water along with it. Wild automatically relaxed, sinking into the bubbly feeling. A blue light flickered in his vision, healing his shoulder in a familiar way, and Wild relaxed even further before he abruptly stiffened again.

Wait...

The smooth magic trickled into his middle, down to where his lungs were still burning from the water he’d inhaled. It soothed the ache, and though Wild still felt exhausted, he could tell his shoulder had been completely fixed as well. Even the various scrapes and bruises from the fight before the river had been healed.

Which meant...

The bubbly rush of magic faded away, Wild’s vision fully cleared, and his stomach dropped out.

Red scales. Yellow eyes. A petite figure covered in scales that were smooth and shiny in the sunlight, and healing magic that was fading from slender hands.

“M... Mipha?” Wild choked out.

The Zora woman (it couldn’t be Mipha, it couldn’t—) gave him a concerned look, but before Wild could do or say anything further, the steel was back at his neck.

Wild stilled, and followed the blade resting at his neck up to the person holding it. His already fast heartbeat tripled, and he choked for a second time.

The person holding a blade at his throat was himself.

His double’s hair was much shorter, pulled back into a neat ponytail, and instead of the champion’s tunic he was wearing the Zora armor Wild had received. His eyes were steely as he watched Wild, but the most shocking thing about him was the fact that the right side of his face was entirely smooth.

He didn’t have a single one of the scars that had killed Wild.

I’m unconscious. I’m dreaming. I hit my head on a rock and I’m hallucinating—

“Explain yourself. Who are you?” his double demanded, not appearing to notice how Wild’s world was caving in on itself. Wild stared, and coughed once, still feeling tired from his fight with the river, and just... unable to process this. What could he even say?

What was going on?

“I asked you a question, who are you? What are you doing in Zora’s Domain?” his double repeated, voice even sharper.

Mipha sucked in a worried breath as she stared at Wild, and touched the double’s arm. “Oh no, did... did a little guardian bring you?” she asked, and Wild stared at her, her words jumbling in his head as he stared.

Mipha.

Mipha.

Mipha was alive here. Wild was alive here, and missing his scars, and wearing the Zora armor that Mipha had crafted to give to him as a—

“Wh... who are you?” Wild whispered, throat suddenly dry as bone. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was just a mistake, a strange coincidence, but he— he had to know. He had to know.

“We asked you first,” Link’s double replied suspiciously, and Mipha set a hand on his shoulder.

“Link, he was just injured and half-drowned, I believe he’s confused. If he were here to kill us, he already would have tried,” she said pointedly, studying Wild with an intent look. “I think he looks too much like you to be a coincidence.”

“It could still be a trick. A Yiga or something,” his double said suspiciously. Wild didn’t blame him. That did sound like something the Yiga would do.

“But why add the scars and long hair?” Mipha countered, and the double looked frustrated.

“To confuse us, I’m sure there’s a motive. He’s probably here for you, you know you’re—”

“If you say “at risk” again Link, I will set Sidon on you,” Mipha said with a little huff, and turned back towards Wild with a kind-if-cautious look. “My apologies. I am Princess Mipha of the Zora, and this is my husband, Link.”

The words were like a slap, even though Wild knew they were coming.

Husband. Mipha. Zora armor.

Husband.

Link.

Wild would have fallen over backwards if he’d been upright in any way, and he stared between Mipha and his double, wondering if he was about to be sick.

They all knew the portals were transporting them through time. Wild had been a part of Time and Wind’s discussion on fractured timelines, and they all knew that there were splits and sections where the history of Hyrule didn’t make sense.

But this...

Was this a timeline where Wild hadn’t failed?

Mipha’s face grew more worried the longer Wild stared at them without speaking, and even his double started to look a little concerned.

“Did I miss an injury?” Mipha asked, scooting closer again, and Wild froze as she approached.

“No, no you got— you got everything,” Wild choked out. He felt perfectly healthy apart from being tired and his falling-apart mental state, just like if he’d used Mipha’s grace. Even though he hadn’t used it in nearly a year because the champions were finally at rest and they’d passed on and Mipha—

Wild lurched to his feet, using a rock for support, and immediately the other Link’s blade was raised again.

“Stay where you are,” he said sharply, and Wild stumbled backwards towards the water. His double’s face grew fierce and he leapt around him and blocked him off from the river. “I said stay where you are! We’ve told you who we are, now tell us your identity or I will treat you as a threat.”

Wild stilled, and swallowed. He might as well explain.

“I’m... well, Link,” he began, and the other Link didn’t move. “You... probably figured that out. I... I don’t know how I got here— I mean, I do, but it wasn’t on purpose, I-I... I don’t know what you mean about a guardian, but one didn’t bring me here.”

Wild looked at Mipha again, and swallowed thickly, his eyes stinging.

“This isn’t a trap. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not here to hurt you,” he croaked, and the other Link pulled his sword back just a hair. “I— my companions and I are traveling through time, but... I think something went wrong,” he finished in a whisper.

We’ve never had anything like this happen with the portals before.

Did the Shadow do this?

“Time travel...” Mipha said thoughtfully, and exchanged a loaded look with the other Link.

His face had creased further, but in a different way, and he finally pulled the sword away from Wild’s neck. He kept it at the ready though, and watched Wild intensely.

“How did you get here?” he asked again, a little less accusatory and a little more curious.

Wild exhaled. “It’s a long story... but it was through a portal,” he said, deciding he would just... ignore what was going on for now. It was that or completely freak out, and he wanted to know more before passing out due to shock. “My group is hunting a Shadow, one ripping holes in time. We’re trying to stop him.”

“So no Terrako then?” Link questioned, and Wild shook his head in confusion.

“No? No... Terrako. Just portals that sometimes spew powerful monsters.”

Link and Mipha both stiffened.

“These monsters, do they have darkened blood?” Mipha asked, and Wild nodded. “Oh my. We’ve seen some up in the highlands, remember that moblin, Link?”

Link grimaced. “Yes. What a disaster. We assumed it was just leftover magic from Astor or something of that nature, not... time travel related. Bazz is still recovering.” He paused for a second, then his eyes went wide and he whipped his head back towards Link. “You said you came through a portal that expels these monsters?”

“Yeah, from upriver somewhere,” Wild nodded. “But it’s not sending out monsters right now. I fell through it, then fell right in the river.”

Link frowned. “So no monsters were coming out when you went through?”

“No, they were all on the other side, my group was fighting their leader. But I don’t know—”

“Papa?”

Link froze, and Mipha looked worried as Wild turned around towards where the voice had come from.

A young, orangey colored Zora was poking his head up from the water, and he looked between Wild and Link, a wide look on his face.

“Papa?” he repeated in a curious voice, and Wild stared, studying the little Zora’s features.

“Stay in the water, Ty,” Link said seriously, and the Zora hesitated, eyes darting between Mipha and Link and Wild. Then he hopped out and scurried over to stand next to Mipha. He hid behind her leg and watched Wild with large blue eyes, and Wild began to shake, recognizing them as his own.

Oh Hylia, haven’t you put me through enough?

Mipha put a hand on Ty’s arm, and he continued to watch Wild, his expression concerned as he studied his face.

“Papa... hurt?” he said worriedly, and Link shifted around so he was standing beside him, and placed a hand on his head.

“No, I’m not hurt,” Link reassured, and Ty switched to clinging to his leg instead, still staring at Wild. His orange scales shone brightly in the sunshine, like the last rays of light before the sun set.

“Wh... who is...?” Wild choked out, and Mipha gave him a look that was as conflicted as he felt.

“This is our son. Tyde,” she explained gently, like she knew the words would hurt.

They did, hitting Wild like a laser, and he felt a mixture of longing and wonder and grief so intense he was nearly sick.

Tyde was small, and as he shifted around the other Link’s leg, Wild saw that his left arm was shorter than it should be, the fins the wrong size. He had Wild— Link’s eyes, and his frame was proportioned more like a Hylian, but he had golden-orange and white scales all along his body, and had the Zora tail on the back of his head.

All in all, he was exactly what Wild would expect a child of his and Mipha’s to look like.

A tear fell down Wild’s cheek without his permission, and he sank back down to his knees, overwhelmed. He was married here. He had a child here.

This was what would have happened if he hadn’t failed?

This was how much Mipha had loved him?

Wild began to shake, and barely even noticed as Mipha approached and knelt beside him, so lost was he in his own mind.

“You’re from the world the older Sidon came from, aren’t you,” Mipha said quietly, and Wild shakily raised his head to look at her. “I... doubt he remembered in order to tell you. Zelda theorized they all wouldn’t recall anything from their time here.”

Wild gave a small shake of his head, and Mipha sighed.

“It’s complicated I’m afraid, but we’ve dealt with time travel before,” she explained. “And me and Sidon, we... we talked a little, about things. He said that in his time the champions were slain, and that you nearly were along with us. But you were placed in a sleep for one hundred years in order to heal, and then you saved the princess.”

Wild nodded mutely, and Mipha’s face turned further grieved. She carefully reached forward, and Link couldn’t help his flinch as her cool palm rested on his cheek, right over his scars.

The other Link behind Mipha had gone white, his sword finally lowered. Tyde tugged at his pant leg, and Link wordlessly picked him up, holding him tightly to his chest as he locked gazes with Wild.

Wild could only imagine what was going through his head.

Mipha wiped the tear off Wild’s cheek then withdrew her hand, giving him the same smile that he barely remembered from a hundred years ago. It almost made Wild fully break down, but he choked back his tears. He didn’t want her to feel like she had to comfort him.

“I’ll h-have to hear about this adventure Sidon had,” he said, managing not to make his voice sound too watery. “Sounds like it w-was something.”

“It was,” Mipha said quietly. “He always spoke so highly of you.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but Wild’s double spoke up then, Tyde still nestled up to his chest.

“In your world, we... lost?” he asked in a quiet voice, and Wild swallowed thickly.

“We... did. I failed,” he whispered, not looking at Mipha. “The champions... our weapons turned against us. Overwhelmed us. I only survived because of a Sheikah invention that took a hundred years to work so I could fix my failure. So many died...”

He took in a shuddering breath, and looked at Mipha and his double again, their child still watching him intently.

“But you won here. You did it, you won—”

Wild’s voice choked off, and he barely noticed Tyde tug on his father’s sleeve, trying to get his attention. He did notice when Tyde pointed at Wild though, his brow scrunched up.

“Hurt,” he said with another tug, and for some reason that one small word made Wild lose the rest of his composure.

Suddenly it was too much, the sight of himself holding his and Mipha’s child, Mipha herself sitting beside him, her hand on her husband’s arm. It was a family Wild never had, never would have, and the fact that there was a timeline somewhere where Wild hadn’t failed them, where they had the opportunity to exist, it was just—

A small sob escaped him, and he pulled back, his shaking starting up again. Before he could bolt though, Tyde suddenly squirmed out of his father’s arms and padded over to Wild. Wild froze as he put a tiny hand on his arm, and when Wild looked down at him, he ran his hand up and down for a moment before nodding.

“Better,” he declared, then scampered back to Wild’s double.

Wild could only stare, tears dripping down his cheeks as Tyde climbed back into his father’s arms.

“He’s seen me heal before, he thinks he can too,” Mipha explained with a faint smile. “He does that whenever anyone cries, he thinks they’re hurt.”

A thick laugh burst from Wild’s throat, and he smiled shakily through the tears only running faster down his face. Tyde kept watching him, and Link swallowed back the gigantic lump in his throat in order to speak.

“Thanks,” he managed through his tears, and Tyde gave him a shy smile before hiding his face in Link’s chest.

Wild breathed out shakily, shuddering with a sob he tried not to let escape, and Mipha and his double stayed quiet as they let him cry, Tyde quietly watching them all. Mipha put her hand on his arm at one point, and Wild only cried harder, wishing he could remember her more, wishing she hadn’t died, wishing he didn’t even know what.

He merely cried, and Mipha let him, a different version of himself watching in pale-faced silence.

That was where Wolfie found them barely a quarter hour later, Wild’s eyes red as he quietly explained more about the infected monsters, Mipha and his double asking worried questions about what was going on, Tyde resting against his knee.

And nine Links became ten.

[cassandracain52]

A canon compliant guide of Bruce Wayne’s officially adopted children

I noticed there has been some confusion about who all in the BatFam is actually legally adopted by Bruce Wayne so I thought I’d try and help clear some things up.

(Full disclosure you can of course headcanon whatever you like, I made this is strictly to help newer fans know what is actually canon💕)

Dick Grayson: Adopted

(Batman: Gotham Knights #17 and Batman #600)

Many fans argue over whether or not Dick is officially adopted, many saying it was never official and he is still just his ward.

Though he does admittedly usually spend the majority of his actual childhood as a ward, Bruce ends up officially adopting Dick as his son(as I have explained before here)in multiple timelines

Barbara Gordon: Not Adopted

(Batgirl and the Birds Of Prey Rebirth)

There was never a need for Barbara to be adopted because she still has a Dad. She is however still very much in the BatFamily and has trained under and with Bruce

Jason Todd: Adopted

(The New Titans (1988) #55 and Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying)

Now I couldn’t track down a comic where we actually get to see Bruce adopt Jason, but there are plenty of instances in which his adoption is referenced -including but not limited to these two- throughout several timelines and reboots

Cassandra Cain: Adopted

(Batgirl 2008 #6)

Now this one is a bit more debatable as aside from this one instance, Cass’ adoption is never really mentioned again even after the timeline gets rebooted. Still the general consensus is that Cassandra’s adoption is considered canon.

Tim Drake: Adopted

(Batman #654 and Red Robin #4)

Though Tim declines Bruce’s offer of being adopted at first, we get to see Bruce adopt Tim as his son about a year or so later. His adoption is also referenced across multiple reboots

Stephanie Brown: Not Adopted

(Batgirls #13, Robin (1993) #174, and Robin (1993) #126)

Now the main reason Stephanie is not and probably will not be adopted is because both her parents are alive. While her Dad is a villain and out of the picture, her mother is a nurse and fully capable of taking care of her.

Bruce does however train her during her brief stint as Robin and much like Barbara she is no less apart of the BatFamily, she’s just not in the Wayne Family

Duke Thomas: Not Adopted (technically)

(All Star Batman #1 and Batman & the Signal #3)

Now Duke is never officially adopted because technically his parents are alive just insane due to Joker’s toxin of which there is no cure. However Bruce does take him in and let him stay at the manor and it is heavily implied he becomes Duke’s foster parent so do with that what you will

Damian Wayne: Not Adopted/Biological child

(Batman and Robin (2011) #0)

Damian is Bruce’s one and only biological child -of the main canon- and therefore does not need to be adopted because you don’t need to adopt your own child

And that’s all of Bruce’s official and unofficial children in the main canon!💕🖤

[myokk]

💘

[puppypawprince]

stimboard of this image for @compassionately

x - x - x | x - x | x - x - x

[thatmooncake]

Happy birthday @linafoxoficial ! Your cake comes with a surprise visitor! 🌙