lead balloon (the tumblr post that saved me)
if this comic resonated with you, it would mean the world to me if you donated to this palestinian family's escape fund.
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no creative notes because this isn't that kind of comic.
I know I don’t owe any of you anything but I still felt compelled to write about my long term absence. And I feel far enough away from the dangerous spot I was in to be able to make this comic. I have a therapist now, and she agreed that making this could be a very cathartic gesture, and the start of properly leaving these thoughts behind me. I am still, at seemingly random times, blindsided by fleeting desires to kill myself. They’re always passing urges, but it’s disarming, and uncomfortable. I worry sometimes that my brain’s spent so long thinking only about suicide that it’s forgotten how to think about anything else. Like, now that I've opened that door for myself, I'll never be able to fully shut it again. But I’m trying my best to encourage my mind in other directions. We'll see how that goes.
I am still donating all proceeds from my store to Palestinian causes. So far, I've donated over $15K, not including donations coming from my own pocket or the fundraising streams which jointly raised around $10K. In the time since I made my initial post about where this money would be going, the focus has shifted from aid organisations to directly donating to escape funds.
If you'd like to do the same, you can look at Operation Olive Branch, which hosts hundreds of Palestinian escape funds or donate to Safebow, which has helped facilitate the safe crossing and securing of important medical procedures for over 150 at-risk palestinians since the beginning of the genocide.
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AU of Gotham! Tim Drake! Danny where he doesn’t know the universe he was reincarnated into.
“Robin!” Batman barked. Tim sighed, loudly. Batman twitched.
“What is it, B?”
“Drills. Again.”
Tim rolled his eyes but moved to obey. Speaking to B these days was like speaking to a rather boorish caveman. Simple grunts and single word sentences. It didn't use to be like this but B was loosing his grip on his humanity and it’s Tim’s job to bring it back.
It’s hilarious because he’s the least human of them all. It was odd, juggling his duties as Danny Gotham, his responsibilities as Tim, and his workload as Bruce’s shiny new Robin. Somehow he made it work.
Yeah, sometimes B’s hands are heavy when they’re training. Sometimes he forgets Danny’s name (or at least his human name) and calls for Jason instead. Sometimes, he smells more like booze and less like Bruce.
Danny could handle it. Even if his core quivers with grief. He wished he didn’t have to, but he could and will handle whatever he needs to for his Knight to regain himself. But fuck, that doesn’t mean taking his self destructive habits lying down. He might be Tim right now, but as far as Batman knew, Tim was here on the orders of
“B.”
“Hm.”
Oh, a neutral grunt! I see we’ve upgraded to grunts instead of arm flapping! Holy detective, Batman! Aren’t I glad I learned to speak cave man? Wow! Tim mocked, in his head.
“You’re heading to bed when I’m done with this set,” Tim said.
“This case isn’t done,” Batman growled. Ancients, it was like speaking to a large chihuahua-toddler hybrid. All the barking, all the growling, and all the petulance of a child makes the entirety of how his Knight acted on a good day these days.
“That wasn’t a suggestion,” Tim shot back, sore arms and legs and everything working through the set. Thank the ancients for his healing, or else Tim might actually be dying.
“You don’t give me orders, Robin.”
“No, but Gotham does.” He would know, considering Tim was Gotham.
The head full of greasy- ew, take a shower, B!- hair swiveled towards him.
“You have a direct line to Gotham?”
Tim settled into the final forms of the night. “Gotham sent me. I thought we went over this.”
A beat of silence.
Batman returned to clacking away at the computer. Tim finished his set in relative peace. He moved to the cool down stretches while Batman sulked in front of his computer like a five year old.
“I’m done.” He said, crossing his arms.
“Hm.”
“That means you’re done, too.”
“I’m not tired.”
Tim rolled his eyes so hard, he thinks he saw the light. Oh, wait, that’s just Bruce’s last brain cell dying.
“You’re heading to bed. Good luck finding actual crime tomorrow, if you stay up.”
Batman stilled, because he knows Gotham would back Tim up on the threat. Considering the time sensitivity of some of these cases, Gotham’s anger is not something he could risk.
Tim patted himself on the back for effectively playing the good cop and the bad cop on his own. Except ACAB for life because they’re vigilantes and the GCPD as a whole (with exceptions) sucks ass.
He watched as Batman- as Bruce- reluctantly powered down the Bat-Computer. As he stood up, Tim wrinkled his nose.
“Never mind. You take a shower first. I’ll text Alfred.”
“Not necessary.”
“Okay, then you can explain to Gotham why you’re traipsing through his city looking a starved rat and smelling like you took a joy ride in Killer Croc’s excrement. Oh, wait.” Tim snapped, just about done being patient today. Tim whipped out his phone, texting Alfred with one hand and pointing towards the staircase with the other.
“Shower above ground, you weird little mole rat. No cave water for you.”
Bruce makes a weird offended grunt.
“I literally don’t care if you have to walk up to your room to shower in your boxers, B. Most of Gotham’s people don’t have access to a shower, let alone a million dollar bathroom. Fucking use your actual bathroom instead of hosing off.”
And with that, Batman and Bruce Wayne moved to the tune of a pre-teen, who was also, unknowingly to him, the spirit of his City.
——
“Go home.”
Tim smiled sweetly. Bruce paled. The scary, Gotham loved child patted Bruce’s hand as he sat beside Bruce’s bed.
“Sleep, before I make you.”
Bruce slammed his eyelids shut, anything to not look at Tim’s malicious looking eyes, and allowed himself- nay, forced himself- to rest for the first time in weeks since Jason died.
As Bruce’s dumb self drifted off to dreamland, Tim muttered, “Wuss.”
He settled himself into the chair, napping lightly to make sure Bruce doesn’t sneak out to work when he’s gone.
Alfred snapped a quick picture.
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