#it was a raindrop sound

[gina025]

Autumn drizzle

[takemetomyfragiledreams]

just another fic in my wip folder about kid!Tim and ghost!Jason:

Tim doesn’t get a chance to visit Robin’s grave until well after the funeral. He’s been waiting anxiously for the press to lose interest in the tragedy that is Jason Todd’s death, made popular only because of the man that adopted him. From what Tim knows of him, Jason would hate it, but Jason isn’t around anymore to call the press out on their behavior. 

It’s been raining a lot since the announcement. Gotham is always downcast; always inflated with heavy clouds and thick smog, but it’s been worse lately. The streets are constantly slick with rain, to the point where flood warnings have been going off on the television for weeks. It’s as if Gotham herself is in mourning for the bird that was grounded too soon. 

The graveyard grounds are thick with mud. With grim determination, Tim trudges through each sucking step. It’s hard work that leaves him panting under his raincoat. The earth itself is begging him to turn back but he’s far too stubborn for that. 

It’s dark which is why Tim thinks he’s alone at first. The flowers left on Jason’s grave are bedraggled from the storm. Tim’s seen pictures of the angel built into the stone but it’s different being so close. The gloom makes it seem taller, more severe. Rain drips down from its praying palms, washing away some of the mud creeping up the bottom of the grave. 

Tim rocks back on his heels as he takes it all in, suddenly unsure of what to do. He’s never been to a funeral before. He’s got no first hand experience with how these things go. There is only the constriction of his lungs, like a vice slowly closing in on his ribs, and the tears he’s cried since he realized the announcement wasn’t just a cover. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, though he isn’t sure what it is he’s apologizing for. For thinking Robin above death? He saw the Flying Grayson’s fall, he should know better by now that no matter how magical a person seems, they’re always going to be left shattered across the ground.

He blinks water from his eyelashes; is it rain or tears? Tim doesn’t know. He places his bouquet of flowers amongst all the rest. White orchids and blue forget-me-nots. You are always loved. You are never forgotten. 

It doesn’t feel like enough. 

He sniffles, sure that he’s crying now, and wipes a hand across his face. “Robin,” he whispers, like the secret it is. 

There’s a wet sucking sound from the other side of the grave; Tim freezes in place. For a moment there’s nothing but the pitter patter of rain, and then comes something like a sob. He approaches the side of the grave hesitantly to peer around the back. There’s a small body back there, curled up on itself and splattered in mud. 

Tim gasps and quickly rounds the grave. “Are you okay?” 

There’s no reply. 

He bends down next to the body. They’re shaking harshly; a flash of lightning shows that some of the patches of mud look darker, almost like blood. Tim hurries to pull his raincoat off to wrap around the stranger. 

“Come on,” he says, shivering as the rain begins to soak through his clothes. “I’ll help you, okay? You just have to walk.” 

There’s no reply but when he stands the stranger stands too. He takes their arm to lead them back the way he came, steps even more determined than before. It’s a task to fit two bodies on his bike but he hardly notices a weight difference. He squints through the rain on his way home, using all his concentration to ensure they don’t crash. His teeth are chattering by the time they arrive at Drake Manor so he can only imagine how cold his guest must be. 

“This is my house,” he explains, as he lets them in. He’s tracking mud across the floor but he’ll have to deal with it later. “Come on, I’ll take you to the bathroom so you can shower. You can wear my clothes.” 

Tim starts the shower for them when they say nothing. He makes sure it’s nice and warm before forcing himself away. “It’s ready. Use whatever you want, I’ll leave you clothes by the door.” 

Again, there’s no answer. 

He hurries through his own shower in the guest bathroom, mind racing with thoughts of what he needs. They’ll need hot food. Blankets, too. What if the stranger is in shock and that’s why they’re silent? He nearly works himself into a tizzy over the possibility and rushes back to his room. 

The shower is still going so he waits. And waits. And waits. 

“Hello?” He finally calls. The door creaks open as he peeks in. The room is thick with steam; he squints at the shape of his raincoat on the floor and looks further in to the shower. “Do you need help?” 

There’s no reply. Tim steps forward hesitantly; he knocks on the glass door before pushing it open a crack. There’s no one there. 

Here’s what Tim knows: there are only one set of footprints on the wooden floor. His bike didn’t feel like it had another person’s body weight on it when he rode home. He doesn’t remember ever touching skin or feeling any warmth from the stranger. They never spoke.

Hallucination? Maybe. But Tim didn’t move the bottles in the shower and he didn’t put his raincoat on the floor. Something isn’t right and he’s going to get to the bottom of it. 

Tim returns to the graveyard the next day. His nose is stuffed up and he’s got a cough from being in the rain for so long the day before, but he’s determined. Someone was at Jason Todd’s grave last night, someone who was definitely a child like Tim. Robin would make sure they were safe; Robin would solve the mystery. So Tim can do nothing less. 

The rain has washed away any traces of last night. The holes his feet left behind have been overtaken by puddles, which leaves him no way to look for a second set. He brings out the little hand held flashlight he brought along to search the gravesite. There’s no trace of anyone. 

Tim rocks back on his heels with a frown. He thinks back over his actions the previous day; he didn’t bring flowers this time, if this is magical in nature does that have something to do with it? He said words too, though he doesn’t think they were all that magical. Either way, he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Robin.” 

He cracks an eye open and feels silly when there’s no change. “Maybe it was just a hallucination,” he mumbles. “Robin would know what to do.” 

There’s a gasping sound from behind him. Tim whirls around to find a small figure bent double in the mud. He kneels beside them, hands hovering a few inches away from their skin. 

[nostalgic-raindrops]

Do you need this Right Now?

Come let’s take a trip together ☔️ 🌧️

[hotcinnamonsunset]

kittens! in! mittens!🧤🐈

[mourntomidnight]

[nobeerreviews]

Let’s just sit quietly and listen to the secrets the rain wants to tell us.

-- John Mark Green

[momoksha]

raindrops on the ground..💧💦 (with kitten meowing in the back!🐈🌧🎶)

[rainintheevening]

Banging my head against a wall.

I have a scene vividly in my head, but it doesn't fit with any Comfy-vember prompts, and I don't want to just write it as a fleeting 'imagine...' tumblr post. It's almost entirely visual and feels. What do I do with this?

[naturerainambience]

🌧️ Calm Your Mind & Body: Soothing Rain Sounds for Stress Relief ✨

[ratt-fried-this-pasta]

Chopin Prelude in Db Major “Raindrop” Op. 28, No. 15

reblogs greatly appreciated :>

[tabe4]

Let’s give them 30 gallons/115 liters of water all at once

[nostalgic-raindrops]

Can you believe this year is already halfway through? Time is flying by so quickly!

Stop Waiting!

[unreal-unearth-unstable]

i wanna thank the clouds for being so gentle when it rains; they don't need to cut the water into little drops but they do

[calltheechoes]

Over the weekend, the best friend and I ran away to Spectre.