Do you know Physarum polycephalum ( or "blob")? It's a slime mold that consists of only a singular cell which can be chopped up an fuse together again, makes intelligent choices without nervous system and is neither a fungus nor a plant nor an animal. One of the most alien things we have on the planet.
Maybe ghost behave also like that, that would explain why they can do something like this:
Summary: You and Dick have a fight in your apartment, and smashing your snow globe opens the flood to more arguments. (Dick Grayson x reader)
Word Count: 1.8K
Notes: Hi lovelies~! I'm prepping for an international trip to see my family, so I'm a bit more tired than usual. Nearly there though! thanks for your patience. I'm also changing tomorrows theme so I can put everything on a better Masterlist. However, I might not be able to finish this until the end of the week. I've got an extremely packed schedule, and I think the next big time I'll get to finish the last piece with be in the airport! (If I finish a fic tomorrow, but we shall see!). Thank you all for waiting on me.
many kisses,
RiRi <3
━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Dick knew you were going to kill him.
The moment he saw your eyes widen, stopping mid sentence, he felt his stomach hit the floor. He hadn’t meant to be that angry, he hadn’t meant to lose control of the situation like that, but it had spiraled to that point before he could even stop it. He hadn’t even felt it leave his hands, let alone register that it was him that had just broken it. He may as well have just broken your heart. The anger in your voice was derailed, and he watched the emotions play out on your face.
The denial as you stared at the shattered glass on the floor, eyes flicking between his hands and the mess on the wall where it had shattered. First your lip wobbled, and then your eyes grew glossy, swallowing thickly as you held back tears. Then they slipped out, the first tears of the night dropping onto your hands as you bent down to pick up the shards.
“Honey, I-“ Dick started, feet shuffling forward awkwardly as he tried to help, but you slapped his hands away. Your head jerked up to his, eyes filled with tears and lips pulled back in a snarl.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t fucking touch me.” You hissed at him, cradling the glass of the snow globe to your chest. He took a step back, hurt at the tone, but he knew he deserved it.
“Can I please help?” he offers softly, keeping himself rooted to the spot like you were a wild animal, lashing out if he got too close.
“Help with what, Grayson?” you snap back, voice thick. Your fingers trembled, your jaw clenched tightly as you glared at him. “Anything else you want to throw around? Maybe I should offer you all our good glassware while you’re at it.”
Dick knows that you have every right to be mad, but the tone makes irritation prick in his chest once more. “I didn’t mean it.” He sighs back out, eyebrows pinching. “It was an accident, I wasn’t careful-“
“Oh really now?” you say back, straightening up to dump the glass in the bin. “Wow, I never would have guessed.” You snap, poison lacing your tone as you jerk your head to him roughly. “Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”
The vein pops in his neck as he sucks a breath through his teeth. Here he was trying to apologise, and you were out making this worse.
“Is this because of the accident?” He asks, trying to keep his tone level. If he was any smarter he would keep up his civil and diplomatic outlook, but you were getting under his skin. He loved you for how much you knew him, how you knew what made him tick on a deeper level than anyone else had before, but he also hated it. Hated that you knew exactly what would piss him off, and what topics made him see red more than anything else.
“No.” you huff back, tone brattish as you glare. “I’m talking about in general.”
“Don’t bullshit me.” He snaps back. “I tried to protect you, I really did. I handed you over to the ambulance, we got you to the hospital,” he began listing on his fingers, the rage boiling inside him.
“Dick, stop.” You say, voice wavering as you stand by the bin.
“We got you there as fast as we could, do you know how bad Gotham traffic could be? I made sure that it was safe, hell, Tim was even tracking it to make sure that you got there with enough time.”
“Dick, please-“
“So don’t bring up something that I couldn’t control, because-“
“Dick, stop!” you scream at him, hands clenching. With a gasp you unclench a moment after, eyes wide as you look down at the last few shards of snow globe that had dug into your skin, pricking your palms with dots of red.
“Dick, just shut up.” You say, voice no longer angry. “Just shut up. You have no idea what you’re talking about. You never have.” Your voice is thick with tears, and he can see your chest heave with the force of keeping your sobs inside.
“I don’t know?” he scoffs. “I was there.”
“You mean Nightwing was there.” Your voice tremors as you grit it out. You begin picking the glass from your hand with a wince, glaring at him. “You have no idea what it was like. You told me I was safe, that I was going to be okay-“
“You were-“
“I was shot in the stomach Dick.” You snarl at him. “It was the scariest moment of my life, and you left me.” You sob out, blinking to try and get the tears to go away. “I was in that ambulance alone, and every time I tried to look down all I saw was red. I wanted to hold your hand, have anyone, someone tell me that I was going to be okay.” You heave out, tears flowing freely as you try to wipe them away. It feels like your whole body is shaking, muscles tensed as if that pain in your abdomen came back.
“It hurt so much. There was so much blood, I was so scared, and I just wanted you to be with me.”
He hates the broken expression on your face, and for a moment he softens.
“Darling, I couldn’t leave-“
“Couldn’t leave the other civilians to Bruce and Tim? Couldn’t pass up a press opportunity? While I’m sobbing going into the operating room thinking I’m going to die? But no, I’m sure damage control was worth it. You know who the first person I saw waking up was? Jason.” You snarl at him. “And you know why? Because he said, ‘I should have someone familiar to wake up to’. He brought flowers.” You scoff. “You know who showed up eight hours after that? You. With nothing. No urgency. No worry. I was already out of surgery. I needed my boyfriend.” You hiss. “Not Nightwing.”
Dick hung his head, wiping the back of his hand against his forehead. He wishes he could tell you how worried he had been, how he had snapped at every reporter that tried to get a statement from him, that he had handed over other injured civilians with a little more roughness that intended, because every bone in his body screamed to get to you, but he couldn’t get the words to form.
Bruce hadn’t allowed him to leave, needing him to ensure the culprits were apprehended. That very thing that had caused a shouting match between him and Batman, only cooling off when Alfred inevitably had to step in between. He had been late because he was asking all connections that he could to make sure that your shooter never stepped foot outside a jail cell ever again, even though his shady whisperings in the legal realm could have him and the Wayne name ruined forever.
He had been in the hospital lobby talking to Jason as his brother explained to him the situation, helping him ease his panic so that he didn’t cry when he saw you. Everything that he had done, he had done because he had been so scared of losing you. The fear that you could have died, that you might be fatally injured because he wasn’t fast enough ran through his head and woke him in cold sweats at night, and he’d silently slip from your shared bed to wash his face in the bathroom and catch his breath.
“I thought this,” you nod your head to the pool of water on the floor, silver glitter swirling on the kitchen tiles, “meant something to you. That I meant something to you.”
He looks down dejectedly at where the snow globe he had thrown had smashed, regret clawing its way up from his stomach. You had that snow globe ever since you were child, something that you parents had gotten you for Christmas. Inside you could slip a photo into the base, and you had for years proudly displayed your parents, smiling and happy. The photo was worn, but you had just turned ten and was wrapped up in a big hug, beaming as your parents squished you between them. Your eyes shone with glee, holding up a red wrapped present for the camera, not knowing it would be your last Christmas with them.
“So I can always spend time with them, even when it isn’t Christmas.” You had told him, the year you had added him to your special snow globe.
For your first anniversary you had slipped a photo of the two of you skating together into the other side, smiles wonky and bundled in scarves as you took a selfie in the Gotham City Park. Dick had been over confident in his balancing abilities, and while he could skate in a straight line, he found out rather quickly that he didn’t know how to stop.
You had added his photo, smiling as you kept him tucked next to your parents, like that orb of glass, glitter, and water held your heart in its sphere. The water on the floor seemed to cool off his anger, and the guilt broke free across his face.
“I’m sorry-“ he whispered, stepping forward, but you stepped back. His hand that had been reaching for you faltered as you cradled your bleeding hand to your chest, tears dripping down your nose.
“Honey, you do mean something to me, I swear.” He tries to say, but you scoff through your tears, lips quivering.
“Not enough, apparently.” You rasp out, and his heart shatters seeing you try to force a smile. “Are you ever really Dick Grayson?” you ask shakily. “Or is the real suit Dick Grayson? Because at this point, I can’t tell anymore.” You sob, voice breaking as you turn on your heel to run to your bedroom, the sound of the door slamming echoing throughout your apartment.
With a sigh he runs his hand through his hair, cursing himself. Part of him wants to run to your door and beg for forgiveness, but the stubbornness of his pride holds him back. Instead he kneels down, picking up the soaked photos. The photo of your parents crumbles apart as he picks it up, and his heart tears knowing that he was the one that caused you to lose something so precious. The photo of the two of you skating splits down the middle as he tries to scoop it with his fingers, cutting you and him apart.
Head on the kitchen island he kicks it with his knee, resignation curling in his chest. Maybe he wasn’t the Dick Grayson he thought he was after all. Maybe for once, being Nightwing had caused more harm than he could have imagined, except this time, he had no idea how to fix it.
October 29th: Use a color wheel generator to give you one color. And use it as inspiration for one fall/Halloween activity/memory/whatever that you’d depict. You don’t have to stick to that one color, but make it a dominant one in the creation!
So in my youth my grandmother would have my brother and I rake every single leaf that fell and place them inside these gaudy ass plastic bags (with jack-o-lantern face, that would act as decoration, and then we would have to pick fresh Persimmons (even fresh were soft and with good hand strength would easily break open) from her sad ever dying tree in the front yard. So these 2 memories were depicted together with one color with white grey and black as the only color building assistance to Pearlescent Copper (brownish orange)
