#imagine having a carer

[milkweedman]

Too sick to do pretty much anything but also bored as hell. Been spinning the southdown flax blend on my espinner cause why not, nobody has ordered any and I can make more if they did.

It's a very interesting spin. I spun a sample before I put it up for sale to make sure it wasn't awful, which it's not; but it is difficult. Not sure I would have been able to spin it before I learnt how to spin flax. You gotta keep an eye on both components as you work, making sure you're not leaving the southdown behind or letting the flax bunch up. It's easy once you are used to it, but still different.

The espinner I got working a little better by seating the drive band correctly. Still not a fan of the fact that I'm not directly in control of the speed... on a wheel or spindle I often want to slow down or stop but it's a pain on the espinner and it leads to uneven yarn. These things are weird.

Anyway. Dont know what I'll do with it but it's nice to spin again. Have been having trouble using my supported spindles bc of my shoulders. I know there's a way to lay down where you can spin supported without shoulder pain; the issue is I can't lay in one position for very long bc then everything else hurts. And of course supported is what i switched to after wheel spinning was too painful, which i got into because drop spindling was too painful. Can you tell how upset I am that spinning is being slowly taken from me. Haha. Anyway. Glad for the espinner in this regard.

[v0latileromantic]

out of curiosity, disabled selfshippers, is your s/i disabled in the same way as you? is your s/i more able than you? if you use mobility or sensory aids, does your s/i use them too?

[creativesplat]

That scene from A Tale of Two Stars, from Stan's perspective.

[the-busy-ghost]

Heard a Full-Grown Adult who was sitting behind me on the train tonight genuinely say “I don’t know why people are worrying about the cost of living” and honestly even if he was joking, I’m amazed his girlfriend didn’t dump him on the spot

[distinguished-rave-moth]

Aw yea it's put on heavy mascara and cry time of night

[bebsi-cola]

i cant speak for everyone but i feel like it's underrated just how much impact being physically disabled has on mental health. because physically disabled people often have to remind others that we struggle with mental health issues that it sometimes sounds like an afterthought to others. but it's a real impact of being physically disabled. being unable to go outside or leave the bed worsens depression. having actively declining health worsens depression because part of depression is being unable to imagine a future for yourself. it also creates anxiety. you have to rely on people. on carers, family, the government. it's hard to assure anxiety when you are in a precarious position and the "worst case scenario" is not something you can circumvent or deal with, because lack of care will kill you. has killed people like you. being told you are worthless, that people like you should die or never live in the first place has a big impact on mental health. being physically disabled and unable to defend yourself, being forced to rely on people, opens up a lot of opportunities for abuse and trauma. being in pain is traumatic, medical procedures may be traumatic - and being a disabled child leads you to be doubly vulnerable. people often have to focus on their physical needs to keep them alive - to keep them clean and fed and such. and with such little energy to spare it is difficult to manage mental health. all the stigma surrounding mental health doesn't disappear because you're already disabled. sometimes when you do reach out people will just focus on trying to make you less disabled in order to cure the mental illness issue, instead of giving you the tools to help manage it in your current and real life.

[lesbxdyke]

Decided to steal my own tags from This Post because I didn't want to detract from the very good points being made about wheelchair accessibility in the art

So I'm disabled. And I often have to use crutches as a mobility aid. Sometimes one, sometimes two. And even with that, I still sometimes can't get around.

There have been numerable occasions in my life where something has been marked as 'accessible' that is not accessible to me, because it was made with ONLY wheelchair users in mind.

And like I said in my tags, it's a genuinely great thing that things are now being made with wheelchair users in mind! I am genuinely heartened and happy that wheelchairs users are being recognised in public spaces and accommodated for!

But they are not the be all and end all of physically disabled people.

I need the extra space of a disabled bathroom. Especially as another physical disability of mine causes me to often require space to change underwear or clothing.

However, if I'm having a bad pain day, I can't wash my hands. Because the only sink is at the height for a wheelchair user. So my options are to eschew hygiene and pray that a cleaner wipes down the door handle regularly so others aren't interacting with a thing that I have touched without washing my hands, OR risk furthering my own pain by bending to reach the sink, which could end in me stuck in the bathroom as my back seizes and I cannot move.

As I'm sure you can imagine from reading that, neither option is a good option, but one is a safer one for me. And I hate it. I'm 'lucky' in that I have to always carry baby wipes with me anyway so I'm somewhat able to mitigate the hygiene issue, but what if I didn't? What if I didn't have the extra disability and just had the back problems that required the extra space of the disabled bathroom for my mobility aids? What then?

I also have a radar key (for those not in the UK: disabled bathrooms are often locked. A radar key is a skeleton key for disabled bathrooms all around the UK) so I can always gain access to the disabled bathrooms. Except... I often have to find staff to help me open them anyway because the door handles are low and I can't bend to press them.

Now this post isn't me saying that the world should be built only to cater to me in particular (tho gods it would be nice!)

This post is talking about competing support needs and how my experience as a disabled person, struggling with how so much 'accessible' stuff is only designed for wheelchair users is just as valid as a wheelchair user celebrating that they can use an ATM and a public bathroom without needing the aid of a stranger or a carer.

I've seen quite a lot of people, in real life and elsewhere on the internet, want to call it Ableist when people ask for there to be a different option that would be inaccessible for a wheelchair user to use within an accessible area like a bathroom. They think it's able bodied people, or parents (since often in the UK, disabled bathrooms also double as baby changing, which is a whole different kettle of fish) demanding we take away the accessibility that the bathrooms are there for. They don't think about people on crutches, or canes, or with mobility that changes by day, or who can walk unaided but cannot bend, or, or, or.

Two sinks in a disabled bathroom would change my life. One wheelchair accessible, one not. I could wash my hands. Other people who needed the bathroom could wash their hands. Everyone could be hygienic in an accessible way!

Two ATMs, side by side. One lower, one higher. I can access my money. Wheelchair users can access their money. Everyone can withdraw their money safely in an accessible way!

Maybe there's no solution for some (like the door handle) but if others were solved, then the remaining ones would bother me a lot less. It's a lot less frustration and humiliation inducing to say "Hey, can you open the bathroom for me?" When you know you'll be able to wash your damn hands once inside, yknow?

[adviceformefromme]

How to re-programme your subconscious mind…(tried and tested)

When the retreats don’t seem to have a lasting effect, you’ve done therapy, prayed, been to see healers, meditated… but for the life of you, stilllll have wounds so deep that they might appear to be resolved but the moment you meet someone who is wow you suddenly feel unworthy. Maybe not even suddenly, but your relationship wounds are running deep. Relationships trigger you. You end up feeling the same 90% of the time. Unlovable, unwanted, and rejected. The key to remember is that it started with you. With the mind, with your thinking. At whatever point in your childhood (or even later) you took on the belief that you're not worthy, your needs were not met. You took on behaviours that play out still to this day. Maybe it was hiding yourself, maybe it was lashing out? Whatever it is, the same way it started with you, with your thinking, with your processing of events. Is the same way you heal your self. Here are some steps: 

1] Forgiveness. Forgiveness is going to free you from your past. Write a list of all the people and situations that caused you pain from your earliest memory to this very day. Whatever pains are etched in your mind, write them down. Once your list is collated, start going through each scenario, sending love and forgiveness to yourself and whoever was involved. Imagine yourself as a loving carer healing the parts of you that were vulnerable, hurt and not safe. Visualise giving yourself love in each scenario. Creating peace. Once you’ve been through a scenario and feel truly at peace with the situation scribble it out and once you are completely done with the papers you can burn them and set yourself free. (this process can take weeks / months depending how long your list is but it's not to be rushed).

2] Whatever is still lingering, use your journal to clear this out. For example, if I asked you right now if the man of your dreams was to appear.. would you feel worthy? Right now as your are? It might not be a man, it might be a job, a salary. Whatever it is, start challenging your old beliefs. You might not feel pretty enough, you might not feel like you are deserving… whatever it is start questioning old ideas you have about yourself. Challenge them..

3] This is the most important step… Once you’ve done the above. You’ll start to see some themes, maybe in your forgiveness list you realised your voice didn’t matter as a child, and that you were silenced, and that you hid yourself as a way to feel safe…whatever you uncover. 

3.1 - You are going to write a script, in simple terms - something a child would understand and make sense of and you’re going to write out new beliefs to re-programme your mind. Example ‘I am willing to forgive those who hurt me, I am willing to forgive myself for the hurt I went through, I am no longer hiding myself from the world, I am choosing to be seen , to be celebrated, I am allowing my voice to be heard, my true voice, I matter’ - you want to cover all basis. Every old belief about not being enough, you need to re-write.

3.2 - Record yourself on your phone in a very slow peaceful loving tone reading your script. 

3.3 - You need to listen to this recording every single night for at least 1-4 weeks. (It’s usually 21 days, but I did a recording for 1 week on feeling safe and I felt truly healed as if it was a miracle). I was able to LOOP the recording using Mac...I sent the voice recording from my iPhone to my MacBook using airdrop and then opened the sound file in iTunes and pressed repeat. This allowed a short recording to loop all night as I slept. It’s really important to play this on a loop as you want to IMPRESS your subconscious mind with the new beliefs. It’s your own voice, its your own re-wiring. 

I hope this helps! The deeper healing work is crucial if you really want to remove those old wounds that seem to be stuck and not budging!

[yamameta-inc]

it is horrific what we’re allowing to happen to children right now. if covid causes cognitive dysfunction and decline in adult brains, what impact will it have on small brains that are still developing? many children who are too young to even be vaccinated are catching covid, as well as a whole host of other opportunistic infections. children can get, are getting, long covid. children aren’t sick often because it’s “normal” or “good” for them—they’re sick often because they’re more vulnerable than adults.

children have no choice but to be sent to schools where they get sick again and again. they don’t have the ability to distance themselves from their parents and establish boundaries, they’re entirely reliant on their carers. if their parents do not believe in covid prevention, they have no means to protect themselves. they don’t have the ability to consent to what is happening to their health.

schools are not just allowing children who are sick to attend class anyway, they’re borderline mandating it. schools as an institution care more about meaningless attendance records than about students’ wellbeing. the classroom is an environment where all factors incentivize students coming to school sick.

there are horrific accounts from parents about kids being sick 24/7, never having energy, struggling with schoolwork. there are horrific accounts from teachers about their young students being different these days, unable to handle the usual schoolwork, showing signs of that classic covid “brainfog.” i’ve seen evidence of schools making their tests and criteria much easier in order to maintain an acceptable pass rate instead of addressing the actual core problem in the slightest.

i often think about a comment i read once about how someone knew it was fucked when no change happened after sandy hook, when the US decided and enshrined the fact that children were acceptable sacrifices. this is how it feels. this isn’t just about the US though. children are getting reinfected with covid again and again worldwide. this is about the entire next generation.

they didn’t choose any of this. they have no power to stop this whatsoever. none of us consented to this, obviously, but children most of all. most of them don’t even have any idea what’s happening to them, and won’t for years.

there needs to be a push for schools to adopt better covid prevention measures, like better ventilation and air filtration. but even more crucial, and much more difficult, is to do away with the ideology at the core of how schools are designed. just like how workers deserve sick leave, children need to be able to stay home when sick. no jumping through hoops for a doctor’s note to be accepted, no strict time limit. schools obviously know that 1 student staying home sick is less disruptive than 20 students being sick and unable to do their schoolwork. they know the math, but they aren’t after efficiency. just like companies know that happier workers are more productive. that’s not the point. it’s more obvious than ever what is choking our societies to death on every level.

i’ve seen university unions who’ve won teachers the right to demand masking in their lessons, the right to have air filters installed in their classrooms. the same needs to happen for K12 schools, especially since young children can’t advocate for themselves. parents could theoretically wield a lot of influence as well—but let’s face it, most are uninterested in or actively hostile to the idea of better air for their children. efforts to combat this need to be organized, sustained, and coordinated.

imagine how current children will feel once they grow up and look back and realize that their health was compromised before they even learned to speak, that they were born into a sick world, that they were born to be sick, not inevitably but because people preferred things this way.

[heavenlytoddler]

Imagine just being tiny, and your carer notices that you are, even before you notice. And they have you sit on their lap, making sure you're comfortable. They turn on your favorite show/movie and hold you in their arms as you slowly fall asleep since it's almost your nap time

( DO NOT REPOST TO OTHER SITES; REBLOGS ARE OKAY )

[radiocrypt-id]

I got- I can't!

Imagine being 15, you've grown up your whole life with this one belief in this one God and you were told you were Chosen by Him, for Him. And you're 15. You believe so fully in the spirit of your religion, not necessarily the word, that you want to go to a non-religious school to try and help other kids maybe find your God because you genuinely believe that could be helpful to some of them, because it's all you know, and it's helped other strangers (human trafficking victims she helped in the black pit before) so why not other kids her age? You're 15 and all you can think about is helping others. And you start thinking about your religion, and reading books, and asking questions and you come to the conclusion that maybe your God and His Father aren't actually all that great. Maybe the church you're in has done some really bad things that you can't possibly make up for. Maybe that church is still doing bad things. And then you find out your family is actually in a cult for that God, not just part of the normal church, and you suddenly have to undo all the cult shit in your brain you were raised with, while that cult stuff you know about is actually useful to your friends, like having that knowledge is helpful for them! You're 15 and you stop going home. You have no real adult supervision or carer, just your other 15 year old friends.

Imagine you're 16, you're gay and figuring that out on top of navigating your first full romantic relationship and being the sole creator and cleric to a new God that you honestly find to be very two dimensional and empty. You're on a quest to find an evil being and stop them. You nearly die. Your friends nearly die. You're 16. You're 16 and feel something calling out to you, you know it's divine because you've felt that sort of pull before, but you've never felt one like this. You find memories and hints and pieces and you figure out that the evil being you have to stop, isn't evil, she's just hurting. She's hurt and She's a God. She's your God, and she's so happy to see you, and she has so many ideas, and so many hopes.

You're 17. You've spent your rest time (summer vacation) tearing across the world chasing down and defeating another evil thing that you and your friends accidentally released in the first place. Your God is with you, you have no time for Her. No time for anything but trying to survive and stay sane. You know She's disappointed in you, but you're one person -ONE PERSON- and you're 17. You missed your birthday. again. You've saved the world; again. You're so fucking tired -like always. You're Chosen, and alone, and have no idea what to do with your life, let alone your God. You aren't very good at school, but you go to every class. You're drowning as you try to rewrite your understanding of the world from what you grew up with, having no idea how to do anything without a book and godly hand to guide you. You only ever followed before, your new God is demanding you Lead. You don't know how. You're only 17. You see your horrible, abusive parents spitting abuse and racist rhetoric at your baby brother, who you haven't seen in two years, on the front steps to your school and for the first time ever you are filled with righteous fury. Your God answers your call, not knowing what you need but so eager to help, eager for your attention, she starts talking to you but you're busy -why can't she understand that you're fucking busy? trying to not die, trying to be safe, trying to keep your friends alive, trying to navigate a world that hates you, you're 17 and you're busy goddammit just wait!- and she snaps back at you and flees. The next time you see Her, maybe an hour later, She's got a creature with Her that nearly destroyed you and your friends last year sitting in her lap, so smug to see you again.

You're 17- no, 16- no, 15 years old and you're expected to build and carry the world on your shoulders, Chosen from birth, raised a lamb to follow a Shepard, not to be followed behind. You have no one and nothing and everyone expects everything and you can't back up, you can't pause because if you do someone dies and doesn't come back. You have to be a hero, a chosen, a saint. The steps behind you crumble to dust with each step you take forward and the new one is already cracking under your weight. There are only wrong choices. There's no hand reaching for you. God, you were taught, will save and guide you. God knows best. Why is your God looking to you, a mortal human, to be saved, raised and guided? You're a child.

You're just a child.

You just want to go home, wherever that is. You thought it was your God, but She's not exactly helping you out either, is She? She's just disappointed. Like everyone else. Like you.

You're 17. You think it would have been better to never do any of this. It would have been easier to stay, blind and naive. Sometimes you think you should have stayed in heaven. Sometimes you think about the God you killed by not being good enough for it. Sometimes you lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling and pretend you don't exist for awhile. Sometimes you work your body so hard you forget it's there and your mind shuts up and you exist without being you. Sometimes you wish you never asked any questions or read any books. You're 17, but sometimes you wish you were 15, with no idea yet.

You're 17. You wish you were good enough.

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

am adult. adult who higher support needs from intellectual/developmental disabilities are adults.

but.

often times. still wish am “actual” adult. wish am adult adult.

wish can work in field passionate in. in job that yes hard but look as overview, enjoy be in, am making impact.

or maybe not as grand & idealistic. maybe just have job, earn income, n then can come back to apartment that maybe have roommate to split cost but they not your carer you not depend on them for daily care you have ability take care of self. can go to local places you want without have worry about whether mobility aids work enough, or whether have people come with you make sure you safe, not forced to depend on other not forced to plan based on other people. can be spontaneous.

know in current society current economy current job market with lots exploitation, young people struggling. but sometimes do wish like. had independent adult problems instead.

this is mix of internalized ableism talk, with “not have current support needs met and probably will not for long long long future years maybe never so hard imagine ever be happy n thrive like this even though you accept your disabilities” talk.

but is also reality, so.

[ozzgin]

The octo monster baby in heart breaking monster fucker reader’s arms is so cute! I wanna kiss and cuddle the lil baby! 😚 You seriously make the most adorable pieces of art!

Imagine reader having a ton of more kids from different baby daddies since she’s the town rental, and the government decides to put together a “documentary” of reader and her family for further human studies. But the documentary ends up becoming the #1 reality TV show thanks to all the baby daddies constantly causing drama in reader’s large estate. And reader is just chilling in the corner, and cooing at her newest baby. 🥰

Reader: *Talking to baby* “Don’t mind your daddies. They love you just as much as me.”

*A large piece of furniture is flung across the grand room, nearly hitting another monster daddy*

Monster Daddy #1: “Fuck you! And your lizards!”

*2 dozen monster daddies proceed to fight across all rooms of the estate, each declaring that their children with reader is better than the others’*

The way we talk about Reader has truly reached an interesting peak. “Town rental” 😭

But I hear you 👘 anon. I’m not too familiar with reality shows, what would the equivalent here be? The Bachelorette? Make that “Monster Island” edition. Or maybe “Keeping up with the Monsters”.

“When I first heard about Reader’s kids, as her carer, I wanted to kill her. But as her manager, I knew that I had a job to do, and I really just wanted her to move past it” - Mayor of Monstertown

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Ask Me Anything -- Sam Sareff

Why were you named Sam- was it a religious thing or a family thing or what?

Sort of both! Well, really, it was a family thing – I was named for my grandmother, who was named for her uncle. But she always used to joke that she was named after a god from the Nameless country that predated the Republic of Texas.

Everyone knows that the Nameless Country, being primarily Christian, worshipped Father Christmas (the father of ‘Jesus Christ’) who would bless everyone with gifts on his son’s birthday, but many people don’t know that they actually had a second, more consistently worshipped god, named Uncle Sam! So that was always my grandmother’s little joke, that we were named after a dead god from a mystery country.

If the Hylara colony ends up not needing/able to support turtles, do you have an alternate idea for that constellation?

Oh, I’m sure there will be turtles. If only as pets in terrariums. There’s no rcourse for old dna, no Earth to go back o; I’m sure we’ll fill Hylara with as many different kinds of animals as we possibly can.

I certainly hope our descendants don’t name their constellations after inanimate things. If they look up at the stars and see not a turtle but a living dome surrounded by exit airlocks, well. That would be a sad thing indeed.

Would you want to raise kids once you reach Hylara?

To be honest I’m not sure how much choice I’ll have in the matter. Children will be needed and we have thousands of embryos in storage for a reason. I imagine that children will be determined by the resources to support them that we have on hand. I’d love to raise some if it’s an option, but it’s all going to depend on how many we can realistically provide for, who’s likely to be the best child carers, and whose skills aren’t needed more elsewhere.

(Sam is a character from Time to Orbit: Unknown)

[imagine--if]

Can I ask for a Dano Riddler imagine? where him and Yn grew up together (she was in the girls wing of the orphanage and they talked through the walls, like him and the joker on the film) and she goes to see him in Arkham, and she's really sad that he's there, because they promissed each other that they'd never leave one another, and it's tearful and all, but he promisses her that he'll leave soon and never be apart ever again😭❤

A/N: I've just gotten round to reading the fourth issue of Riddler Year One so yessss I've totally got plenty of inspo for this imagine 😁 enjoy!!

Wordcount: 2.2K

"She doesn't say much. And when she does, it's hard to make it out. Shy little thing. Still, she'll get used to it. She'll have to."

You were only four or five when you were dumped in Gotham's orphanage, clutching onto your soft toy as an only source of comfort and some kind of stability in a terrifying world, and an even worse city. You were quiet, barely spoke, and when you did, it was in whispers, all wide, innocent eyes and secretive, the hood up on your little hoodie as you tried your best to hide yourself from everything and everyone. Just a toddler, with a sweet life twisted by death and misfortune that you barely understood as a toddler. You had shuffled meekly behind a carer who led you into the orphanage, a cold and cruel building that they expected you to call home.

The other kids there seemed so much bigger, loud and dominating and aggressive, half of them on drops, only around twelve years old. Others were plain bullies with filthy mouths and hateful glares, children's eyes glancing at you, assessing your small, shy form, before they carried on with what they were doing in disinterest.

You had buried your face in your toy and pulled the fabric of your hood up past your hair and head, over your forehead, shadowing your face, trying to disappear in it. You pulled your legs up to your chest and watched everything happen behind your toy, its fur pressed up against your face. A group of kids watched TV and fought over the remote, others played nearby outside, but from your spot hunched in a corner, opposite you, sat a boy almost as quiet as you. You gazed at him in silence for a few long minutes, absorbed in his puzzle book, and only when he looked up to get a fresh pencil did he notice your young, curious eyes fixed on him.

He was a few years older than you, with glasses pushed up his nose, making his murky green eyes twinkle as they looked back at you nervously. He gave you a small smile, the first genuine smile you'd received in maybe your whole life, awkward and hesitant. You blinked back at him timidly, hugging your toy closer with little hands, returning his smile bashfully. The boy seemed taken aback by the action, and beamed at you, a beat of hesitance passing before he offered you a pen. You stared at it, then at him, and wandered over, sitting beside him and accepting his offer. You barely knew how to read or write, and so you watched him instead, the quiet boy with a nice smile and lots of books, day after day.

And as the days went by, both of you becoming closer and more comfortable together, Edward would start talking to you in his small, sweet voice, writing answers to riddles with a hand over yours, pulling your littler form into his lap after a couple of weeks and reading to you, then helping you read, helping you speak up a little. He'd even speak for you with others, managing to push past his own shyness every so often to help you, to repeat your whispered, lispy voice to those who couldn't catch it. You'd trail after him throughout the day when you could, before you were taken back to the girls' dorm, and you'd linger in the separating corridor, afraid of the idea of you two parting and him never coming back out of his long, shared boys' room.

"I'll see you in the morning," He'd always say soothingly, giving you a warm hug, bending down slightly so you could return it properly. "I'll never leave you. You know that."

And you'd nod, because you knew Edward was telling the truth by the way he said it and looked at you with earnest, young eyes, letting you borrow a book to amuse yourself with if the nights got too long,

But then foster families and adoptees started popping up. And you, being a young, sweet-looking child, albeit a little shy, are swept up into the grips of a random 'family,' and the quickness of how your name's signed away to people you don't even know and have no say over makes your head spin. The orphanage was overcrowded anyway, and one less mouth to feed in exchange for money made all the difference.

Edward, on the other hand, was beside himself.

Newspapers and library books on adoption and rules and any ways to prevent what was happening piled up beside his bed, to the dorm he'd been disciplined to stay in for his shocking outbursts of frustration and hatred and upset. Thomas Wayne's renewal plan could help him, he thought. He'd already assured him that he could get to a special school to study and learn and have a brighter future.

So on the last night you could spend together, sneaking out of the corridor of a room you slept in with the other girls, Edward filled out the form in his shaky, uneven writing, stating on one line that he wanted to go to the school he'd talked about, and on the other, 'I want to stay with my best friend and stop them from being taken away by bad people.'

REJECTED.

The word stamped in bold, horrid red print was the response he got, the word that bled into his mind as you were made to pack a bag and wave goodbye and go, handing your young life over to strangers, and Edward couldn't do a thing about it. You were carted off out of Gotham to go to school and expected to become a whole new person.

But you couldn't.

The years went by agonisingly slowly, and with every one that passed, you thought about him, your friend, Edward. Did he get adopted too? Did he manage to find some source of happiness and hope afterwards? Would he even remember you if you went back?

Eventually, you save up enough money and have enough time to go back to where it all started, in the unfeeling streets of Gotham City. You had no idea where to look, and after hearing from someone that the orphanage had been burned down ages ago, your last resort was to ask at the GCPD.

"Sorry to bother you," you say with an awkward smile, as a detective greets you and asks if he can be any help; 'Lieutenant James Gordon,' his name tag reads, "I'm looking for someone who I think still lives here? We were friends a while ago, and... I'm sorry, you look busy."

"We are quite busy, Miss," Gordon tells you, looking a little overwhelmed. "We've just managed to catch some crazy psycho who's been letting hell loose recently."

Your eyes widen in confusion and interest. "Wow... that's... yeah, I'm sorry, it's okay."

"No, go on," Gordon nods, letting you into his office, "have you got a name, address or anything?"

"I don't know his address," you say in uncertainty. "We were friends as kids. His name's Edward. Edward Nashton?"

Jams Gordon stops abruptly, whirling around to face you with demanding, bewildered eyes.

"Excuse me?"

You frown. "What?"

"Are you trying to be funny?" Gordon says in shock. "Edward Nashton? That's who you're looking for?"

You nod slowly, and Gordon sighs, taking off his glasses and hiding his face in a hand.

"Look, Miss, I don't know how new you are to Gotham, but Edward Nashton has just been arrested and sent to Arkham Asylum for the crimes committed under the name of The Riddler. He was only just apprehended a few hours ago."

Your breath catches in your throat in disbelief, as Gordon's eyes narrow suspiciously, looking you up and down.

"And you really knew nothing about this? You aren't an accessory?"

"I- no," you shake your head, "I only just made it to Gotham this evening."

Gordon nods slowly, though he still doesn't seem convinced. He suddenly grabs his jacket and opens the office door, glancing back at you.

"Come with me."

You follow him meekly, as he leads you out of the building and into a police car. Are you going to be arrested? Could your Eddie really have done this? Why?

Gordon stops outside Arkham, opening the car door for you to step out, and leads you inside, showing his badge to the guards, who let you proceed. The walls are strong and metallic and thick, and the cells are sealed with heavy iron doors with a small, barred rectangular window at their tops. You try not to let your attention wander, sticking close to Gordon, until he reaches an interrogation room. A mad dressed in a jet-black bat suit already stands there with a frustrated look in his dark eyes, and Gordon signals for you to wait as he goes over to the Batman and whispers something you can't quite make out in his ear. The Batman looks over at you quickly, his expression unreadable, and then he approaches you.

"You know Nashton?" his deep, whispery voice states more than asks, and you nod.

Batman stares at you for another moment before marching back into the interrogation room, nodding at you impatiently to come in. You do, blinking at the hard lights and the security cameras glaring at you from the corners of the room. And, behind the strong, glass partition and metal desk, a young man sits staring at you in disbelief.

Clear, dorky glasses. Murky green eyes. Soft, sandy brown hair. It's definitely him.

"Edward?" you say breathlessly, going to step closer, but the Batman gives you a wary look. "Ed, is that really you?"

He nods wordlessly, his eyes wide and stunned. But beneath that familiar, comforting look he's always had, there's a layer you can only just make out, like a hidden spark of insanity, one that's made the whole city go into a frenzy and even The Batman apprehensive. Edward whispers your name like a prayer, his hands pressed up against the protective glass.

"You came back," he says in wonder, as Gordon and Batman glance between the two of you in uncertainty, but you're not focused on them at all, like the whole world is disappearing around you. "I- I knew you would..."

"What happened?" you say, overwhelmed by the whole scenario, staring in wonder at the now grown-up orphan labelled a criminal in front of you. "What did you do?"

"What I had to do," he smiles brightly, adoringly at you, that glimmer of insanity coming to the surface. "What they made me do. And I did it for you, too."

"Me?"

"Who else?" Edward giggles, standing up and moving closer to the glass, his hands cuffed and chained. "They tried to break us apart. But you came back. I've been waiting for so long..."

"What does she know about this?" The Batman slices through the moment, and Edward glances at him distractedly. "Have you been doing this together?"

"Of course not," Edward breathes, turning his attention back to you with a sweet smile. "She's too pure for that. Too shy, and lovely... it was me. But you inspired me," he insists, looking straight at you, "to make a clean slate, and clean it all up, so that it'd be perfect for us. And it will be, angel. You coming back was the last piece of the puzzle." Edward suddenly gives you that all-too familiar soft, loving look you'd seen back in the orphanage, and you have to fight to compose yourself, wanting so badly to run to him like you did so many times before. "You look so beautiful. You haven't changed a bit..."

You feel like crying, stunned by the casualness of what he's saying and admitting to. "I... oh Edward..." you shake your head, giving him a desperate look. "You're in Arkham."

"That's right," Batman interjects again, "you can't be together. You're a psychopath, Nashton. You're not getting out. I'm sending her back home."

"No, wait," you cut in desperately, still feeling just as drawn to the genius madman even after the dark truths, "please, I don't want to leave him, I can help..."

A guard interrupts, bursting into the interrogation room, and you all turn to him.

"There's been explosions," the guard announces, "the city walls have collapsed and the main road's flooded."

As he speaks, Edward giggles to himself, giving the masked vigilante a dark, unhinged look that makes your heart jump in your chest.

"She's not going anywhere," he says excitedly, grinning at you. "You're right where you need to be. We can watch the whole thing together."

The Batman dithers between leaving and staying, eventually rushing out of the room, along with Gordon, to deal with the flooding crisis, and a guard hustles you out of the room as Edward's voice calls out your name from behind you.

"You'll never leave me again! We were meant to be! You know it's true, darling! You know!"

You manage to glance back at him as you leave, studying his crazed, ecstatic look, that same softness in his eyes as the day you had to leave, but tainted with madness. But as you look, you can't help but smile back at him slightly, because you know it's true.

As the waters invade the city and the building erupts into panic along with the rest of Gotham, you know it's true. And maybe that'll make this all worth it.

⭒❃.✮:▹ 𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ◃:✮.❃⭒ (message me know if you want to be removed. ghost blogs/dead accs have been removed.)

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[wileys-russo]

baby veen puppy love ficlet?

puppy love

you perked up hearing a series of knocks at your door, grinning at the familiar pattern. "secret knock was correct. password?" you teased, throwing open the door and grinning happily at your girlfriend. "hip hip hooray?" laura guessed, both of you giggling as the blonde launched at you.

"missed you today." she mumbled out among kisses, neither of you having seen one another as you'd had to train separately all day, laura now in the critical stages of her rehab. "missed you more." you smiled, tangling your hands in her hair as hers gripped your hips.

"missed you most." she managed out before nipping at your bottom lip teasingly, your back hitting the frame of your lounge. "no way." you argued with a shake of your head, eye to eye with the defender who couldn't stop smiling.

"way. be careful!" "careful of wha-lau!" you squealed as the austrian suddenly grabbed your thighs, effectively hauling your body over the back of the couch and sending it tumbling onto the cushions below.

"hallo!" she beamed adorably, landing softly on top of you as you smacked her shoulder. "you be careful!" you warned, lightly tapping her knee which sat by your hip. "i am always careful." she rolled her eyes playfully.

"did you just imagine that the lounge was the barrier at that match? up and over goes the tiny tank!" you teased, your girlfriends face blushing bright red at the memory as she flopped down and hid her face in your neck with a small groan, mumbling a string of german into your skin.

"i was trying to get the ball." she huffed, pulling her head back with a frown as you repeatedly pecked her lips, determined to rid them of her grumpy pout. "i'm so glad we can do this again." you sighed happily, arms wrapping around her as the two of you lay down in a tight hug.

leah progressing well with her own recovery meant your sister was finally no longer in need of a carer and had moved back to her own place, leaving yours once more a sanctuary of peace and quiet. and it meant your girlfriend, who could now drive again, could come and go whenever she pleased.

"no more mum and dad yelling at us about keeping a door open." laura nodded in agreement, your nose scrunching up as her silver blonde strands of hair ticked your face. "viv is definitely the dad." you hummed, slipping a hand up lauras hoodie and gently scratching her back feeling her arch happily into you.

"no i think it is beth. viv does all of the cooking and the cleaning and the work. beth just...well she is beth." laura struggled to get out her words, opting for a shrug as you hummed.

"you know liebling there is something else we have not done for too long." laura sat up, cheeky grin on her face as she quickly tied her hair up into a messy bun. "hmmm, played monopoly?" you teased, the austrian shaking her head.

"nooo, guess again." she whispered, lips ghosting yours. "hmmm, no i can't think of anything." you smiled as she rolled her eyes. "lau!" you squealed as suddenly you were over her shoulder and she was marching off to your bedroom.

"laura no put me down! baby your knee is still healing!" you worried, grunting softly as she did as you asked and dropped you onto your bed. "don't do that!" you warned her with a scowl, sitting up and pushing her.

"why? i am strong. tiny tank, no?" she flexed her arms, rolling up her sleeves and making a series of funny faces, determined to have you smile again. "don't be cute. i'm serious, i love you and i don't want anything else bad to happen." you spoke a little more seriously now, your girlfriend dropping down beside you.

"i am sorry love, i will be careful." she promised, moving your hair behind your ear as you nodded. "your english is getting really good." you complimented, causing her cheeks to flush a rosy pink. "you help a lot." she poked your own cheeks with her finger and a shy smile.

"wish i could say the same about your german. terrible!" laura sighed as you scoffed. "it's getting better!" you defended, laura withholding the urge to tease you for how much you looked like your sister with your eyebrows knitted into a grumpy frown.

"okay." with that she spoke a few sentences to you in german, clearly awaiting your response. "yes?" you guessed slowly, laura rolling her eyes. "you do not even try!" your girlfriend laughed, kissing away your pout as you had done to her just moments ago.

"german is hard!" you whined with a huff. "kiss me. do not need any language for that." laura grinned leaning in to connect your lips to hers again.

but right as she tugged your body to melt back into hers, and her tongue starting to explore the roof of your mouth did you hear your front door bang suddenly.

"who is that?" laura pulled away as both of you looked out of the bedroom, the front door popping open as a familiar bundle of blonde hair stumbled through. "leah?" you yelled out, groaning as your sister called back from the kitchen.

"oh hi laura! i thought we could have a pizza night?" your sister leaned in your doorway, your girlfriend giving her a friendly wave as you pushed her hand down with a frown. "get out of my house!"

"no! i miss your cooking." leah admitted, kicking her feet and staring down at the floor. "laura and i have plans leah." you hinted, glaring at her as the blonde only rolled her own eyes.

"you can have sex all you want once i leave, i won't even tell beth and viv. just make me dinner and i'll be out of your hair!" leah grinned causing you to groan again, the older girl backing away and you heard her throw herself down onto your lounge and flick on the tv, far too at home for your liking.

"i like pizza." laura smiled, grabbing your defeated face in her hands and smoothing out your eyebrows with her thumbs. "she is your sister. come on!" the blonde encouraged, taking your hands and pulling you to your feet as you collapsed into her, burying your face in her shoulder with a deep sigh.

"fine. but tomorrow i'm getting the locks changed!"