#emotional conversations

[poisonedace]

Breaking Point

3446 words | Teen | One-Shot Author's AO3: PoisonedAce Story Link: Breaking Point Summary:  Blitzø is at his breaking point. Stolas is spiraling, and  Blitzø can’t hold him together alone. Desperate and exhausted, he turns to the one person who might still be able to reach the former prince: Octavia. But convincing her to listen isn’t easy when she’s holding onto her own anger and pain.

Blitzø heaved a sigh as he finished tucking his favourite horse blanket around Stolas. A frown etched with worry and something uncomfortably close to guilt grew on his face as he looked down at the former prince. Stolas’s face was slack with exhaustion, tear streaks staining his usually pristine feathers. He’d finally fallen into a restless sleep, the aftermath of several hours of a meltdown. He lingered for a moment, watching the soft rise and fall of Stolas’s chest before he turned away.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Blitzø muttered, rubbing his hands across his face and groaning loudly. His tail dragged behind him as he crossed the room and collapsed onto his beanbag by the window. The plush fabric cradled him, but it did nothing to ease the weight pressing down on his chest. His red eyes flicked back to Stolas, his mind racing. He’s falling apart. I’m trying to hold him together, but I’m not enough. He needs Via.

He leaned forward, pressing his elbows onto his knees, and let out a shaky breath. “I need to talk to her,” he murmured, the words as much an admission as a decision. He knew he’d be risking Stolas’s wrath, but at this point, it didn’t matter. Stolas wasn’t just hurting himself—he was dragging everything and everyone down with him, including Blitzø.

Blitzø gave one last look at Stolas before taking a deep breath and activating his Asmodean crystal, a portal swirling to life in front of him. He stepped through, the hum of magic briefly washing over him before he landed on the plush carpet of Octavia’s room.

The room was dark, bathed in the faint moonlight that spilled in through the tall windows. Octavia’s figure was a lump beneath the covers of her bed, her breathing soft and even. Blitzø hesitated, his nerves kicking in, but there was no turning back now. He crossed the room, his boots barely making a sound as he approached her bedside.

“Via,” he called softly, his voice gentle but insistent. “Sweetie.”

“Dad?” Octavia mumbled, her eyes fluttering open. As she adjusted her gaze, she was greeted by Blitzø standing awkwardly beside her bed, a large, strained grin on his face. She squinted at him in the dim light, her expression shifting rapidly from groggy confusion to wide-eyed alarm.

“AAAAH!” Octavia screamed, scrambling upright and clutching her covers to her chest. 

Blitzø flailed his arms, his voice a frantic whisper. “Sweetie! Via! It’s just me—Blitzø! Your dad’s favorite disaster!” He cast a panicked glance toward the door, knowing full well how many guards patrolled the castle. “Please, for the love of all things unholy, keep it down!”

Octavia glowered at him, her feathers bristling as she lowered her voice. “What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed.

Blitzø visibly relaxed, the tension in his shoulders easing as he shrugged and tried to appear casual. “Oh, you know. The usual. Breaking and entering, casual home invasions. Thought I’d stop by for some late-night bonding. You’re a teenager—uninvited emotional chats are your thing, right?” He grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Octavia scowled, her tone flat. “You’re insane.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before.” Blitzø leaned against her nightstand, arms crossed over his chest, his usual bravado starting to falter under her glare. He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, I need to talk to you about your dad.”

“What about him?” she asked cautiously.

Blitzø hesitated, his tail curling nervously around his leg. “There’s… some stuff you need to know,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. “And if I don’t tell you, I don’t think anyone will.”

Octavia frowned, still wary but unable to ignore the seriousness in his tone. “You’ve got five minutes before I call security,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“That’s all I ask,” his voice low but firm. Blitzø shifted awkwardly, his hands twitching as if unsure what to do with them. He looked out of place, like a stray animal that had wandered into a royal banquet. His eyes darted around the room, avoiding Octavia's sharp gaze.

Octavia’s lips pressed into a thin line as she looked him over. His usual cocky swagger was gone, replaced by hunched shoulders and a weariness that clung to him like a second skin. The dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced than she’d ever seen, and his posture wavered like he was one wrong move away from collapsing altogether. It was a sight she wasn’t used to—Blitzø looking small.

“Hey…” Her tone softened despite herself, and she tentatively reached out a hand. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to collapse.”

Blitzø blinked at her, momentarily caught off guard by her concern. “Wouldn’t be the first time today,” he muttered under his breath, his tail flicking nervously behind him. He caught himself quickly and waved her off with a forced grin. “Don’t worry about me, Sweetie. Let’s focus on your dad."

She withdrew her hand, her concern shifting into suspicion again. “What about him?”

Blitzø exhaled slowly, his grin fading. He rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers brushing over the edge of his collar as though grounding himself. “Your dad’s… uh, going through some stuff right now,” he said vaguely before shaking his head and correcting himself. “No, scratch that. He’s been going through it for a while, but now it’s… worse.”

Octavia folded her arms, her sharp eyes narrowing. “And what does that have to do with you barging into my room in the middle of the night?”

Blitzø hesitated, his tail curling tightly around his ankle. “Because I can’t… I can’t keep doing this alone. He’s a wreck, Via. He won’t sleep, he won’t eat, and the massive, hour-long meltdowns? Honestly, they scare the hell out of me. He won’t listen when I tell him he needs to pull himself together. But maybe… maybe he’ll listen to you.”

Her frown deepened. “Why would he listen to me? He doesn’t care about what I think. If he did, he wouldn’t—”

Blitzø cut her off with a sharp shake of his head. “Stop. Don’t go there. I know it feels like that sometimes, but your dad… he cares about you more than anything. More than his power, more than his status, and—yeah, more than me, if you truly want to keep score.” His voice softened, the exhaustion creeping into his words. “He’s just too wrapped up in his head to show it properly right now.”

Octavia stared at him, the sharp edges of her expression softening just slightly. “Why are you telling me this?”

Blitzø rubbed the back of his neck, his usual bravado replaced by a rare moment of vulnerability. “Because he needs you, Via. He’s hurting, and I think you might be the only one who can get through to him.”

Blitzø sunk to the floor and slouched forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as if that were the only thing keeping him upright. His limp tail lay beside him.

“What do you know about Goeetian marriages?” he asked, his tone cautious, like he was tiptoeing around something sharp.

Octavia froze, her mouth pressing into a tight line. “They’re the same as any Hellborne marriage. Some are for love, some are contractual,” she said flatly, her tone clipped. Her sharp eyes stayed fixed on him, wary of where this conversation was heading.

Blitzø nodded, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Right. And your parents? Which one was theirs?”

The question gave her pause. Her talons twitched, and she pressed them into her lap. “Theirs was a love marriage,” she said after a moment, though her voice wavered slightly.

Blitzø let out a long sigh, sitting up straighter and meeting her eyes. His tone softened, but his words hit hard. “Sweetie, your dad’s gay.”

The air seemed to leave the room. Octavia’s eyes widened, her feathers puffing up slightly as the words sank in. “What?” she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Blitzø threw up his hands in mock exasperation. “I mean, come on, have you seen the guy? Feathers, capes, glitter? That’s not exactly ‘straight demon chic.’ Honestly, the outfits alone should’ve tipped you off. Rainbows, Via. Rainbows everywhere.”

Octavia blinked, completely dumbfounded. “That’s… not funny.”

Blitzø’s grin faltered, and his tail flicked as he looked away, the humor draining from his voice. “Yeah, probably not,” he admitted. “But it’s true. Your dad’s known he was gay pretty much his whole life.”

Octavia stared at him, her mind spinning. “But… he married mom. They…” She trailed off, her breath catching as realization began to creep in.

Blitzø’s expression softened, his voice quieter now. “Yeah, I know. Paimon told your dad on his tenth birthday that he’d be marrying your mom. Said they needed a ‘precautionary heir.’ That’s how it works with royalty, Sweetie. It’s not fair, but…”

Octavia’s face twisted, her feathers flattening as anger flared in her voice. “So I was just an obligation to him!” she snapped, her voice rising. Her hands shot up to her head, gripping her feathers tightly. “He HAD to take those pills because of me. If he’d just left—”

“NO!” Blitzø interrupted sharply. He jumped to his feet and grabbed her wrists before she could tug at her head feathers any further. His touch was gentle despite his firm voice. “Stop, Octavia. Don’t do that.”

Octavia froze, her hands trembling in his grip. Blitzø leaned closer, his tone softening as he met her eyes. “Listen to me, Sweetie. It’s not like that. You are the utmost important thing in your dad’s life. If you don’t believe anything else, please believe that. I need you to believe that.”

Her gaze dropped to her lap, her shoulders slumping as his words sunk in. Her voice was shaky with lingering anger and confusion. “But if he loves me so much, why did he…” She trailed off, shifting her wrists in his hands in a silent request for him to let her go.

Blitzø sighed, releasing her hands but staying close. His voice took on a weight she wasn’t used to hearing. “He’s tired, Via. Tired of the insults, of the fights, of pretending—tired of everything. He tried for so long to give you a normal life. He thought it was the right thing to do. For you, for his family, for Hell. Then he saw a chance at happiness, and he took it.”

Octavia’s feathers bristled slightly, her brow furrowing, but she didn’t interrupt.

Blitzø pressed on, his gaze steady. “But he never would’ve done it if he thought it would hurt you this much. He thought that you could be happy with us, be happy with him. The last thing he wanted, ever, was for you to get hurt and for you to not be in his life. You’ve got to know that.” He paused, taking a shaky breath. “But, Via… doesn’t he deserve to be happy? Just a little bit?”

She opened her mouth to respond but found no words. Her talons dug into her blanket, her gaze darting away as she processed his words. The flicker of doubt in her expression deepened, clashing with the anger and hurt still swirling inside her.

“He needs you to remind him why it’s worth it. Why he’s worth it.”

Octavia shivered, her hands loosening their grip on the blanket. The words landed heavy, but this time, she didn’t try to push them away. Instead, she let the silence stretch between them, struggling to unravel the mix of emotions tightening in her chest.

Blitzø’s words stirred something in her—a painful mix of emotions she wasn’t ready to confront. Memories flashed in her mind: her father holding her close after a nightmare, his gentle voice soothing her fears, the way he’d subtly step between her and her mother’s sharp words, absorbing the brunt of the anger to shield her. The warmth of his lullabies as he sang her to sleep. Those moments of love and safety stood in stark contrast to the pain she felt now—the pain of abandonment, of being left behind.

Her gaze moved to Blitzø. For so long, he seemed like a big monster, someone who stole her father from her. But now, standing by her bed in the dead of night, he looked small. The weight of exhaustion and worry clung to him like a heavy cloak.

“I…” Octavia’s voice faltered, and she rubbed her arm nervously, her gaze dropping to the floor. Her feathers shifted slightly, betraying her unease. “I’m not saying that I would have rather you died, but… things would have been so much easier if you weren’t here. Everything was okay when—”

“It wasn’t!” Blitzø snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. Octavia flinched, and he immediately softened his tone, running a hand over his face. “Sorry, Sweetie. I didn’t mean to yell. But… it wasn’t okay. Not really.”

He leaned back against the nightstand and hummed as he thought about how to tell her the next bit. “Via, your parents’ marriage wasn’t a good one. Surely you see that,” he said, his voice gentler now. His hands, clenched into fists, trembled slightly, and he let out a long, slow breath to steady himself. “I know Stolas tried his best to give you a normal childhood, but… there’s no way you overlooked the arguing. The tension.”

Octavia hesitated, her feathers shifting as she finally met his gaze. “Of course, I noticed,” she admitted. “But that’s what couples do. You and Dad fight, I’ve heard it.”

Blitzø smiled faintly, a humorless expression that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, Sweetie, we do,” he admitted. “But we’re working on it. Your parents… they didn’t have that chance. They were thrown into a mess neither of them wanted, but they tried for you. They did their best to make it work, even if it wasn’t enough.”

Octavia frowned, her gaze dropping again. “But that’s not my problem to fix,” she muttered, her voice defensive but lacking the usual edge.

“No,” Blitzø agreed softly. “It’s not your problem. But it is your dad’s, and he needs your help, Via. Now, it’s your turn to try for him.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable. Octavia pulled her knees up to her chest, but she didn’t respond. For the first time, she didn’t have a sharp retort or a bitter comment. Instead, she sat quietly, Blitzø’s words softening the bitterness she’d clung to so tightly.

Blitzø let out a heavy sigh and fell to his knees, his head lolling to the side. His shoulders slumped, and his usual energy completely drained. The heaviness of the conversation and everything that had brought him to this moment seemed to press down on him all at once.

“Blitzø!” Octavia exclaimed, her voice tinged with alarm as she jumped out of bed and knelt beside him. Gently, she reached out, grabbing his arm. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head slowly, not meeting her gaze. His voice cracked when he finally spoke. “Via, I… I’m just so tired.” He closed his eyes, his tail curling weakly around his leg. “He won’t sleep, he won’t eat. I’m trying so hard to keep him going, but I can’t do it alone.”

The confession hit Octavia harder than she expected. She squeezed his arm gently, unsure of what to say.

Blitzø took a shaky breath, his words coming out in a stuttering rush. “This is so unfair of me to do, barging in here and putting this on you. I know it is. And he’s going to be pissed when he finds out I said anything.” He finally looked at her, his red eyes glassy with exhaustion and something that looked almost like desperation. “But please, Via. Please just speak with him.”

Octavia stared at him, her hand resting on his arm. The anger that had shielded her from hurt began to crack, replaced by something softer—something harder to deny. Could she really help him? She didn’t know what to say, but the sight of Blitzø—this usually untouchable force of chaos—looking so small and defeated made her chest tighten.

“I’ll think about it,” she said hesitantly, her voice softer now.

Blitz’s nod was slow, his lips curving into a faint, weary smile. “That’s all I’m asking, Sweetie.” He leaned back slightly, resting his weight on his hands as if he might fall over otherwise. “Just… give him a chance.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke; the room filled only with the quiet sound of their breathing. The weight of what had been said—and what still needed to happen—hung heavy between them.

Octavia hesitated, her gaze lingering on Blitzø as he slumped forward, his exhaustion written in every line of his posture. For the first time, she saw him not as the chaotic whirlwind that had barged into her family’s life but as someone trying his best in an impossible situation.

Her mind shifted to her father—how tightly he would hold her after a bad dream, his arms a sanctuary against the dark. She remembered the haunting melody of his soft lullabies, each note wrapping around her like a promise that she was safe. But more than that, she recalled the quiet moments, the ones he probably thought she hadn’t noticed: the way his shoulders sagged when he thought no one was watching, the distant look in his eyes as he stared out the window, and the sadness that seemed to seep from him, heavy and unshakeable. Those glimpses of vulnerability—of a father doing his best even when it wasn’t enough—made her chest tighten, the memories as comforting as they were painful.

She swallowed hard and nodded, almost imperceptibly at first. Then, with more resolve, she spoke. “Okay,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “I’ll talk to him.”

Blitzø’s head snapped up, his red eyes widening as relief washed over his face. A genuine smile, faint but real, broke through his grimace. “Thanks, Sweetie,” he said, his voice hoarse but warm. He pushed himself upright, straightening as much as he could despite his obvious exhaustion. “And, hey, if he kills me for this… at least tell him to make it quick, huh?”

Octavia’s lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile breaking through her defenses. “No promises,” she said, her tone dry but not without affection.

Blitzø chuckled softly, a sound that was more tired than anything else, but there was something lighter in it now. He stood, albeit unsteadily, and patted her shoulder with a surprisingly gentle hand. “You’re a good kid, Via. Don’t let anyone—including yourself—tell you otherwise.”

He rubbed at the crystal on his wrist, conjuring a portal to his living room. Its swirling energy cast faint light across the room. Just beyond, she could see her father, scrunched up on a tiny, ripped couch, fast asleep, his face twisted as if he were experiencing a nightmare.

Just before stepping through, Blitzø glanced back at Octavia and gave her a soft, encouraging smile. “You’ve got this, Octavia,” he said quietly. Then, with a final, tired smile, he disappeared into the glow.

Octavia stared at the shimmering portal. The room felt strangely still without Blitzø’s chaotic presence. She stayed frozen in place for a long moment, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The words he’d said lingered in her mind, heavy yet somehow reassuring, as her talons idly traced the lines of her palm.

She rose slowly, her movements tentative as she approached the portal. She stopped and stared, watching her father through it, her heart racing. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I make it worse? The anger and hurt she had held onto felt easier than confronting her father’s pain head-on. But beneath it, there was something quieter—an ache to understand, to try. She closed her eyes briefly, steadying herself. He’s been trying all this time. Maybe I can, too.

The hum of magic filled the silence, a faint, steady pulse. Octavia hesitated at its edge, staring into its swirling depths. Her chest tightened as her thoughts warred within her—hurt and anger battling against the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

“I’ve got this,” she whispered to herself, her voice steady despite the uncertainty twisting in her stomach.

And before she could second-guess herself, she stepped through the portal, driven by the fragile hope of forging a stronger, more honest bond with her father—and perhaps even finding her own place with Blitzø.

[mintystea]

hey yeah sorry i cant go out tonight im rewatching leverage (2008-12) and leverage: redemption (2021-). yeah its time for me to indulge in the fantasy of karmic justice through heists and found family, unveiling greed and corruption of large corporations, and death to capitalism again. sorry about that.

[thegurlwhoisntthere]

Y’know, I feel like we don’t give the writers enough credit when it comes to Soren

So often when a character is the “comic relief”, they start off with dynamic personalities and then lose them as the season go on (looking at you Cat Valentine and Steve Palchuk), but not Soren

No, Soren somehow manages to jump between being comic relief and genuinely serious and caring seamlessly. And it’s all the same character, too! He doesn’t feel like he’s switching personalities they’re just other facets of who he is and it’s amazing!!!

[azz-modeus]

Every time Dick tries to have a serious conversation with Jason it gets shut down very quickly. If anyone asks the context imma just say they’re taking a small break on patrol and Jason took off his helmet to smoke.

[hey-heigo]

happy pride month

[lucabyte]

i feel like people are sleeping on the occam's razor situation of how buckwild it is to outright accuse a guy of being a clone of your friend even if you DO have a lot of circumstantial evidence. there's other options is what im saying. they could just be like. a guy. that's a sensible deduction. you should explore that deduction. ignore my shirt that reads I <3 RED HERRINGS.

i still think odile has the correct theory on lock but she's smart enough to know it needs like... a real smoking gun to be able to bring it up without sounding insane.

anyway. (mirabelle voice) i know its rude to speculate but has anyone else noticed the grieving? they seem to be grieving. does anyone have any thoughts on the grieving? i have some thoughts on the grieving.

[ewwww-what]

The world isn’t over, you just need to have a double birthday party and sleepover with your best friend

[chipsy]

Instead of having meaningless conversations with others, I'd rather be in awkward silence with you.

[erinwantstowrite]

the haters are trying to get me to care about canon. they're trying to get me to only fuck with canon. newsflash you stupid bitch if you are in a fandom space you are consuming fanon. i don't CARE that it's canon that bruce wayne has hit his kids in canon. i make my own world where it's common fucking sense that heroes are good people who would not be abusers. "human flaw" this my ass that motherfucker drives a Batmobile and wears a Batsuit and throws around Batarangs. live in a suspended belief and have fun before you dry up and die a sad raisin of a being

[captain-astors]

The Crown Prince

[vynnyal]

I've been having a delightful time stumbling over my emojis being used in random servers, so here's more

[bet-on-me-13]

Ellie wasn't born a Halfa

So! Jason just found something weird. Or rather. Someone.

A little girl, no more than 6 or 7, crying behind a dumpster in an alleyway. Now, as unfortunate as it is, this isn't that strange a sight in Gotham. Kids are always running away from home, getting lost, being left homeless after a mugging gone wrong, but this time was different.

Because the kid was glowing.

When he found her hiding behind the Dumpster, a medical gown being the only thing she had to protect herself from thr frigid Gotham Winter, he didn't hesitate to give her his Jacket and take her to his nearest safe house.

(Actually it took a little while to convince her to accept the Jacket, and even longer to get her to agree to being taken to his safe house, but they got there in the end.)

When he had finally gotten her set up in a side room of the Warehouse, with the most comfortable bed and thickest Blankets he could find, he tried asking what had happened.

"Daddy lied." She said. "He said he loved me, but then he made another kid and said he didn't care about me."

And, once again, it was unfortunately not that uncommon to see runaway kids from neglectful homes, but the way she said it raised some flags in his head.

"...and, how did you end up in Gotham?"

"I ran. He said I was a spare, and that scared me."

Well, that was even more horrible than he had anticipated. What kind of monster tells their kid that they're a spare?!

"And, I'm sorry if this is a touchy subject but why are you glowing?"

She just buried her face in the Blankets and shook her head.

"Alright then, that's fine. You can tell me when you're ready, or even not tell me at all, I'll accept either or".

For the next few weeks, Jason juggled running his newly created criminal empire and raking care of the kid. He still hadn't gotten a name out of her, but she said to call her "Dp" instead. 'It's the best I'm gonna get', he thought.

It was only after a few more weeks, right before he was about to begin his Plan of confronting Bruce about the Joker still being alive, that she approached him and agreed to tell him everything. He was actually really glad that she finally seemed to trust him enough to tell him.

"Okay Dp, you can start wherever you want."

"...well, I guess I should start with my name..." She started, "...or rather, my lack of one..."

"What?" Asked Jason in a soft voice.

"I, I don't have a name." She explained, "Daddy never gave me one. He just called me DP-2."

"...what do you mean by two?" Asked Jason.

"It-It's my Experiment Number." She said, stuttering a little, "I'm not a normal person, I'm a Clone. I was made to be daddy's perfect child, but I was just the test run. He said that I wasn't needed after he made DP-3, and that all I was good for was spare parts."

Jason felt his throat dry up. Dp was a Clone? Of who? Who made her? What right did that guy have to reject her?! Who in their right mind would make a Clone and then reject the Clone?! How dare he!

The Pits perked up

He felt the Pits rising a little, but managed to push them down. Dp needed support, not the Pits.

"It's Okay kid." He said, holding her had reassuringly. "It's perfectly okay to be different. I accept you as you are, and I'm sure as hell not gonna abandon you that easily. Or, ever really. You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not."

She giggled, and hugged him. A thoughtful look crossed her face, and she pulled away.

"There is one other thing...you know how I glow sometimes?" She asked.

The Pits felt a sense of dread

Jason felt like he wasn't going to like this. "Yeah?"

"Well, when I said I was meant to be a Clone, I never mentioned who of." She explained slowly. "He's a kid named Danny, and when he was 14, he had an accident where he died and came back as a Half Undead."

No...

Jason really wasn't liking where this was going.

"When Da-Vlad tried to make me, he realized that those powers couldn't be cloned..." She paused here, seemingly gathering the courage to continue. "...they needed to be added afterwards."

NO.

He didn't. He had better not have, for his own Fucking Sake, he had better not have done what Jason thinks he did.

"So one day, he took he down to the Lab, and he put me in a big machine." He voice broke a little. "He locked me in there, and then I think...that I died..."

...

For once, Jason felt completely in tune with the Pits. He was going to Kill that guy.

...

Sorry if this feels a little rushed, I kept going back to add or change parts of it.

Basically, Vlad realized that you can't Clone a Halfa. So, he made a workaround. He just stuck his first Viable Clone into a Portal, and let the machine Kill her. When he realized that it worked, he knew he had no use for Ellie anymore aside from spare parts.

And he told her as much, Vlad is a fucking asshole.

Ellie, of course, got scared and ran away. She ended up in Gotham, and was adopted by Jason right at the start of his Criminal Career.

When Jason finally hears about the rest of his kids' Backstory, he decides that Batman can wait his turn. He needs to go Kill that Vlad Bastard.

[dumblr]

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

My Biggest Frustrations as an Neurodivergent Person

neurodivergent_lou

[readtrovert]

"What do you see when you close your eyes?"

"Wrong question. You are supposed to ask who do I see?"

"Fine. Who do you see when you close your eyes?"

"You."

[ravenpureforever]

Actually it is deeply funny to me how the Batman fandom does not acknowledge Harold in any capacity so when I first saw him in comics I was fully jumpscared by “who the hell is this motherfucker”

Anyway more fics need to feature the full on Hunchback of Notre Dame subplot that apparently went down in the Batcave

I want Tim or Dick to offhandedly mention missing him or something while the newer kids are like what the fuck are you talking about what do you mean