#Alzheimer’s tw

[hmslusitania]

Listening to a Bastille song the first time: hell yeah! This is a bop! I’m in! I am vibing!

Listening to that same Bastille song the fifth time: I think this is about Alzheimer’s

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

…well fuck, just found out my grandma finally got an official Alzheimer’s diagnosis.

[sloaneines]

✘ ╱ ╾ better keep an eye on SLOANE RIBEIRO whenever they are around. Some say the TWENTY NINE year old made their name by being a GANG BOSS for THE CONTROL. Feared by their COLD + UNSCRUPULOUS tendencies, however, their SOPHISTICATED + ARTICULATE — side helps maintain the facade. Can be easily found in MANHATTAN working as A FASHION DESIGNER.  Tw: alcohol poisoning, death, alzheimer’s, car crash, domestic abuse

Growing up without a father has never been something Sloane thought much of to be honest. She was always told by her mother that he wasn’t someone worth knowing and took the woman at face value - choosing to focus instead on her love of all things fashion. Quite the departure from Adriana Ribeiro’s career path which had taken her to the top of the police force, ending up as a SVU detective working out of the downtown New York precinct. They lived a comfortable life, Sloane spending a lot of time with her grandparents when her mom was working, so much so that they became like a second set of parents to her, her grandmother the one who would sit with her granddaughter on her lap looking through the pages of Vogue like she was reading her Goodnight Moon. It was really no surprise she developed an interest in the garments hanging from the impossibly beautiful woman enclosed in those glossy pages, dreams to one day not be one of them, but to dress one in something she’d designed herself.

School was uneventful for the girl, she was popular and managed to safely situate herself into the somewhat bitchy clique of cheerleaders who would play toot or boot with everyones outfits as they came and went from the dining hall during lunch period. It kept her secure, it gave her a platform, plus it came with perks. She got to date the hottest football players, wear the latest trends, and the excise cheer practice demanded gave her a nice ass. A win win. So despite her grades not being anything special she sailed through her high school years with arguably minimal speed bumps. Sure there was the odd pregnancy scare here and there, one or two of her friends ended up in A&E to have their stomachs pumped, but who doesn’t have stories like that from their teen years? What mattered to Sloane was FIT. She had her eyes set on the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York since she was old enough to know such a place existed so every paper she turned in was simply enough to get her to that end goal, nothing more, nothing less. Breaking her back to get straight As in math wasn’t going to make her any more likely to win a spot at her fashion school of choice so she didn’t bother to do it, preferring to focus on her social life when she could.

Some people called Sloane Ribeiro materialistic but she preferred to call herself fashion savvy. Always knowing what had come down the runway at Paris Fashion Week and making sure she secured herself the closest version she could afford, scouring second hand shops, websites, and apps to get designer items that a teen really shouldn’t be able to own. Soon she’d built up quite the collection, which hadn’t done anything good for her attitude. Slowly gaining an air of superiority over others that stretched further than just being a popular kid at school. She was so sure she was destined for something special she began to manifest that though her actions - which in turn led to some thinking of her as a snob. Which…wasn’t too far from the truth, at least from her school persona. At home she was much more mellow, spending time with her grandparents or her mom when she was home, although this was rare. It wasn’t until she was eighteen and her grandmother was put into a home that the girl started to really become cold. Her grandfather not far behind his wife within six months both were in an old peoples home about an hour away and their memories dwindled rapidly. For a while Sloane would visit, take her grandma the new issues of Vogue to read her as if the roles were reversed from when she was younger, but it began to get too painful. By the time she stopped visiting they would greet her with nothing but blank stares. Sloane made the choice to stop the visits, out of sight out of mind, at least that was what she told herself. Even though both of them are still alive  down the road in Queens even now she doesn’t tell anyone that, the idea of having to explain the situation too painful to comprehend.

At twenty started to attend the Fashion Institution of Technology - finally. Her whole life had been leading up to this point and she could be more ready. Perfectionism was too nice of a way to phrase the way she approached everything she set her mind to, because failure to Sloane wasn’t an option. There was one shot in the fashion world so she sure as hell wasn’t going to throw it away. About a year ago, half way through her third of her four years at the school, the phone call came she’d been expecting for years at this point. Her mother had been shot in the line of duty and died before EMTs could get to the scene, apparently it was a hostage negotiation gone bad, but the details really weren’t important. Since she was about seven, old enough to notice how many funerals her mom went to for colleagues, she’d been waiting for this kind of call. It was so rare to get out scot free in her line of work, why should Adriana Ribeiro be one of the lucky ones? Really the girl had mourned her mother’s death years before it had even occurred when she’d realised that it was more about when rather than if, which was why she appeared to so easily squish the pain down inside her so she could carry on with her daily life. After all, who do you call when your mother dies? She had no father, her grandparents didn’t know her name anymore, and all the friends she had from school were … well they were no longer close. They were married, had kids and detached houses upstate - a lifetime away from Sloane now.

What she hadn’t expected was to have everything she thought she knew about her world, her life, her mother’s career, turned on it’s head overnight. Turns out Adriana hadn’t been the straight laced cop her daughter and those around them had witnessed, because she had in fact been heading up one of the most brutal criminal organisations in the city - for years. The Control. Known for their far reaching drug connections they had their hand in every dark corner you could think of and once her mother died the whole thing automatically fell into her daughter’s hands. Thrust into a world she thought only existed in movies she decided to channel the anger towards being lied to for so many years to become the most ruthless boss The Control had ever had. Expanding their importation system and reconfiguring the structure of the whole team to make everything run smoother she didn’t take any shit from anyone. In fact it was ironic how comfortable she in front of some of the most hardened criminals in the city considering what was going on in her personal life. Ruling with an iron fist and a cold black heart it gave her an outlet she didn’t have at home, at least not at that time. 

Sloane was married to her high school sweetheart and had been for ten years, but it was no longer happy. Sure it had been for a while, they were hopelessly in love when she started FIT and he went to NYU. Charlie, her husband, was from a well off family so naturally that had attracted the brunette to him the second their eyes locked in science class, and she had made it her aim from then on to mastermind a way for him to be hers. And of course she had managed it just like anyone would have been willing to bet on had they known her master plan because when she set her mind to something she wouldn’t stop until it was completed. The marriage was happy for the first few years. Excitement at being in a new city together where they were able to build their own lives no longer restricted by their hometown they’d moved into a well placed apartment in Astoria while the two of them studied and on graduation Sloane went to work at Vogue while Charlie ending up on Wall Street, they were an obnoxiously privileged young couple which lead them to argue. It started as bickering, just over little things that would niggle at each one, but eventually it broke town into full blown screaming matches at all hours of the day or night. Her husband turned violent towards Sloane but this remains to this day something she never told a soul about, appearances being something she valued too highly to permit those looking in to see the cracks in the facade. It went on for years with her convincing herself that every apology he gave would be the real one, until finally she could stand it no longer. The headstrong girl who had been dominated into submission for going on four years broke free of the chains by some unknown power of strength and filed for divorce. She told no one, Charlie was refusing to sign the papers, Sloane would spend more nights at hotels than she did at home claiming it was closer to work but really she just didn’t want to be left alone with him. In public though? On social media? To their friends? Everything was rosey.

About six weeks ago Charlie was involved in a car crash downtown, heading back to the office from a lunch meeting his taxi driver had tried to cut through a light that was rapidly turning red at the last second and the passenger right side door had taken the brunt of the impact. He’d been in the ICU for almost three weeks when his condition deteriorated so much that the doctors finally declared him braindead with no option but to remove him from life support. Leaving Sloane a widow from a marriage she’d wanted out of anyway, but not like this. Now she was tied to Charlie Ines for the rest of her life without any chance of escape and sometimes she would wonder if this was all an elaborate ploy from his to get the last hold over her, stop her from ever truly carrying on with her life, his shadow always looming in the background. Everyone expected her to be the destroyed widow so to some she played the part, but it was hard. How were you meant to mourn a man you hadn’t been properly in love with for years by this point? Sure she was upset by his death, but nothing on the level people assumed. Instead she became more cutting, ruthless, some would call her a bitch. And they wouldn’t be wrong. Sloane’s anger at Charlie, at the world, at her own emotions, her mother, even her grandparents, they all manifested into a superficial callousness - a rage inside her she couldn’t escape just festering there while she tried to carry on with her daily life in some sort of normal way. Death followed the girl at all times it felt like, she wondered if she was cursed, and so she pushed people away as if she was.

[theosconfessions]

if youd like to read the stephens from the beginning you can over here:)

if youd like to read the stephens continued you can over here:)

@ohsosims

theo: thanks for taking me lils. dustys kinda swamped with the babies..everything.. last thing he needed was to hear all that shit.

lillie: all that shit is your health, theo. im sure he wouldnt have minded.plus he shouldve been there. as much as we joke about it.act like it. im not your wife,theo..and that was..heavy news.

theo: thats why i didnt him there.i knew it wasnt going to be great. BUT

lillie: no but theo. not on this

theo: the last time something like this happened..my husband got so stressed out he had a stroke. im trying to avoid that. he knows somethings going on lillie... with my memory..all of it BUT

lillie: honey i get that. but this is your LIFE..and he is going to be the one taking care of you when

theo: if

lillie: if..this gets even worse...im going to be blunt here..because thats the only way i know youre going to hear me, okay. so dont be mad.

theo: k well .. in general im always angry but sure.

lillie: you do not have a for sure diagnosis yet

theo: no

lillie: but i feel like you KNOW something is wrong.

theo: i do but the doctors not even sure yet

lillie:but he has a good idea that it may very well be alzheimers

theo: or i could just be going senile.. normally.. which is fun. both great news

lillie:nothing about your memory loss is normal,theo. tell your husband..before it gets worse...

theo: you dont know that it will. im good

lillie: theo be realistic. just this once. for dustin. for me. for OUR kids together too. prepare just in case

theo: just in case..ok

[the-friendly-entity]

[ ~"Service Digimons"~ ] - Digimon

A Company as saw interest in the Digimons as they could work for special works to help humans! they closely analyze each Digimon with no exception of who could work to help humans in different situations and health circumstance, Once the analysis/investigation and Training and modified Data as been made to these Digimon, they start working on help specific humans!

What contains? Sensitive Content, Mention of Death, Mention of Depression, Mention of Illness, Mention of Suicide

Can be visualized as? Guardians/Caretakers

Grizzlymon - Allergy Detector

-If the Tamer suffers allergy to fur, this Digimon (or other fur kind) is not given, but if is good to go, he does an amazing job detecting his surroundings and objects that are dangerous to his Tamer

-Are you allergic to some specific stuff? specific kinds of plants, fabrics, ingredients, and materials?, etc, this Digimon will keep his nose on alert to detect anything you are dangerous of!

-Grizzlymon will always keep you away from what hurt you and do an allergy reaction, someone offering you food? nope! he will be on the way and avoid the food touch or you smell it if he find it have something is a no no or the food in general is dangerous for you

-if sadly you get an Allergy reaction, he always has a small backpack with the medicine needed to stop it in time! if the Allergy gets soo much into your system he will fastly get you to the nearest hospital as fast as possible

Angemon - Alzheimer

-This Digimon is perfect if you suffer of a memory loss, and always makes sure you feel safe and never lost or disoriented, being around Angemon always know you will feel safe

-You forgot something? very important? Angemon is always there to remind you, or always remind you ahead before anything important, even if you lose track in the middle of nowhere he always reminds you what was you doing

-You forgot yourself? dont freak out, Angemon will be there to remind you who you are, with a lot of videos, photos, and anything that would make you click back to remember

-Angemo is your guardian angel and will be there to never forget, even if you forget stuff, you will still feel safe, knowing Angemon is there to help you, his safe aura always make you know you will never be lost

Antylamon - Guardian

-Such a big bunny protector! Antylamon is one of the best Digimon to help humans who need to keep an eye on their health due they are very fragile if they break their own limits without noticed

-What I'm referring too? expressing their emotions too much, too happy, too angry, too sad, anything is too much of they health and heart, Antylamon will be there to calm them down to avoid they health is in danger

-If they Tamer is too excited running around, Antylamon will be there to gently put his hand on the way and keep him calm, having a hard time almost like a time bomb is going to blow due how much sadness feels, Antylamon carefully cuddles with you and try to keep you clam as possible, you are in you right to cry, but do it carefully, Antylamon is worried about you!

-Antylamon will be always in your side to make sure you are in a calm state, you dont overwork yourself and you dont hurt yourself by accident, Antylamon understands if you feel limited, and will make sure you dont feel that way, will always find a way you enjoy without that feeling of be limited

ToyAgumon - Autims/ADHD

-A perfect cutie one to such Tamers! there will always joy around this little fella! you would never feel uncomfortable or weird, accepted and always belong to someone!

-ToyAgumon is perfect to help you feel safe, loud sounds? he will warn ya!, Things you can't understand? he got you! hard to keep track of things? he will give a hand! hard to socialize? dont worry! he will your voice!

-If the voices in your head are too much to take it, he will cuddle with you and be the only voice you can hear, you are close to having a meltdown? no no! he will make sure that does not happen! sure to act fast before it happens!

-He also make sure you dont overwork yourself or dont overthink yourself, you are safe! its ok!, ToyAgumon due is a block toy he the perfect toy you can use, always take him apart and put him back together! even make something new! he dont mind, as long you happy!

Oleamon - Blindness

-One of the perfect Digimons who help people who can't see! due to her long arms, can always have close and you always know she is near you, always guide you where you need to go!

-Even if the two go separate, she can emit her aroma and you will always know where to go to find her! and Oleamon can do the same, use her tongue to move in the air to try to find your scent to find you!

-You always will be protected, from any insect to anything around you that could hurt you, she always tries to describe you a vision of around you if you ask or if is necessary, mostly she will say it if she sees the place have full of stuff or have a dangerous stuff she point ou so make sure you know!

-Even is scared for others see Oleamon, that was the intention, blind people can't see a scary thing but others do, was intentionally made so people dont try to do anything funny to you, Oleamon will scarry for others but always an angel for you!

Strabimon - Deaf

-A lot of Digimon have this role, and Strabimon is no exception! With his big hands, he can help you communicate and let you know anything that is happening! you will not miss anything that others are saying!

-Is amazing to communicate, if someone wants to talk but does not know how to do sign language, Strabimon is a big help to help both sides, you with sign language and what the person is saying, and the person to translate what you are saying in sign language

-He can even describe things you dont know how sound, and music? he would tell you the meaning of the lyrics and how the music "feels", same as another kind of sounds like wood and such

-He will be the first one to take action fast if he hears something dangerous, a car coming so fast? or an explosion? anything you cant hear he fastly takes you and puts you in a safe place, of course, explaining to you what happened, you always have for sure Strabimon is there to keep you safe in a muted world

Beelzemon - Lupus (this also applies to any other kind of risk Illness)

-Dont get me wrong, when almost all digimons can help to service humans to help them, I mean it, Beelzemon is no exception to this, being a guardian to does people who have almost death sentences

-He always has his jacket full of medicine, and always knows what time you need to drink your medicine or you need to take it due to unexpected attacks, he wants you to stay in home, but he understands why his purpose, to at least bring freedom and happiness in such heavy situation

-You are mostly on his motorcycle, always slow while you are outside, rare times you can be down and walk around, mostly places Beelzemon knows you can be safe without much risk, of course, always remind you or stop you if you put you life in danger

-the good thing about having a motorcycle is if you are suffering a horrible attack and medicine is not helping, he can go fast to the nearest hospital to take you to emergency, of course, he always makes sure the way to the hospital is safe

Puppetmon - Paralysis

-Puppetmon is a good companion with people who suffer who paralysis! can be not really heavy paralysis or complete paralysis, in either case, he is there to help!

-He will help with things you can't do, put your clothes on? eat? take a bath? anything you need you cant do he will help you, he make sure to you dont think you weak for be that way, is not your fault and never will

-the choice was not randomly, thanks to Puppetmon wires he can help paralysis people to try to move, any part of the body cant move, will do small training session, using you as a puppet but for help you your body move, carefully and make sure you are not hurt

-if the small training session is working out, seeing the result your body slowly is responding back to your orders, Puppetmon will let you do the work to you get better, he will continue helping you, but will be less and less as see things are getting better, and mostly he happy and proud of you are recovering!

Swanmon - Parental Figure

-This Digimon is perfect you ever loss a parental figure or never have a parent, Swanmon will be that parental figure you never have, always make you feel welcome and love you as you was her child all along

-She will be your voice of reason, helping you in decisions a parental figure always do, always asking you about your day, if you are ok, you need something? she made you some snacks!

-You can always count she will be there if you need to cry a shoulder, dont feel ashamed, she there for you and to hear you, helping you and clean does tears, she always make sure you are ok to cry

-Never feel ashamed of having Swammon as your Service Digimon, everyone deserves to have a parental figure, no matter how independent you are, family is part of everyone's life, and is ok to depend on them sometimes

Monzaemon - Depression

-Monzaemon is one of the popular Digimon when comes to depression! a very carrying Digimon, always make sure you are happy and mostly accepted! is almost like being near him you space out of the horrible world

-Monzaemon will slow with you, helping you part of part what is the cause of your depression, what are the things you are that way and try to fix it, if are things is out of his hand he try to change it to better things or found solucions in long term will be fix! anything of could be, will find a way to fix it

-He will advoid anything could be dangerous, knifes very high place, things can be use as a White weapon, High places and such is a big no no, you will always have a ballon on your back, mostly to Monzaemon keep track of you and if you even try to jump on a high place, welp, enjoy floating until you arrive to the floor

-He only uses his attack ´Heart Attacks´ if is need it, if you was going to do something very dangerous he cant stop you right there, using Heart Attacks to keep you inside of the heart bubble and having only happy feelings, to prevent you to do a mistake you will regret

[scpaesthetics]

SCP Aesthetics: 3890 (requested by @dewnose2, written by @tanhony)

My name is Elizabeth Graham. My name is Elizabeth Graham. My name is Elizabeth Graham. I can't forget that now. This page is my memory. (blue, memory, doubles)

requests are open.

[bejeweled-wahlberg]

S3 Ep29: How To Save a Life

Mentions of death

Ferb is angry about his older sister Melissa getting married to Harry styles from one direction in which the truth was ferb is scared. London finds out about sunny hiding the WahlLisa painting in the woods in seabrook. Jon told ferb that his father died from Alzheimers in which ferb sanged how to save a life. Lawrence’s Funeral happened and a ghost version of Lawrence was shown and told ferb he was here forever in his heart. Trin visits Liam’s Grave and wanted to tell him that she missed him that’s when Trin sanged Teardrops and right afterwards her hair changed from The dark Teal hair that we all known her for having to a lighter teal cause of the incident that I will reveal someday

A/N: This episode takes place on November 6th of this year and I was gonna post it on the day but just felt it was ready to be published. And incase if your wondering, This is a fun fact btw: JC Chasez Wrote the song Teardrops for Liam payne (If you see the Spotify credits). This is an episode of sadness but happiness at the end when ferb moves in with his older sister Melissa and brother-in-law Harry (in which ferb will have to get adjusted to)

[coffinup]

Relief in Grief: Is it ok to be glad they're gone?

Grief, especially in western society, is a complicated thing. In the U.S. especially, we have certain expectations when it comes to the death of a family member, friend or loved one. There's an odd dichotomy of "feel bad, but don't feel too bad because it makes people uncomfortable, don't grieve for too long because you have to go back to work, but also if you don't grieve you're weird or deranged." It feels like there's no winning. As a result, a lot of people don't really know how to grieve. A lot of people frame their grief around other people's expectations of how they SHOULD be grieving. A lot of times it can depend on your relationship with the person that died. You're expected to be devastated by the death of a spouse, a parent, a child, or a significant other.

But what if, accompanied with sadness, there's also a sense of... a weight off? Maybe that person was suffering from an illness for a long time, or had a slow decline. Maybe that took a lot of time, emotional effort, money, and resources out of you. From visits to the hospital or care center, to bills, to remembering to remind them to take their medication, to making sure they were simply not lonely. Or maybe you had a strained relationship with that person, and now you're realizing you don't have to fight that battle or walk on eggshells anymore.

When my grandma developed Alzheimer's which progressed into dementia, it was a long and slow decline until her eventual passing. With each subsequent month, my mom took more trips to see her, and had to spend more time and energy to make sure her mom was taken care of and comfortable. It was also an emotionally taxing time, since my grandma was very resistant to being placed in a care center, and then to a memory care facility, and then hospice. There were times when she was mean; she had sundowning pretty bad. She started to forget more and more people, daily activities, and even basic skills. In the end, she could only remember my mom's name, and nothing else. Watching her mother decline was brutal on my mom, but she still did everything she could for her.

When grandma eventually passed, I could feel it, we all could. The relief of "She's finally not suffering, we're finally done taking care of her. We can finally move on with our lives." and no one really wanted to talk about it. Because we should feel sad right? And we were, we remembered all the great times with her, her funny and snarky personality before she got Alzheimer's, her cooking, her intricate crochet creations, her love of the Iowa Hawkeyes, the Christmas parties, and how all of that was gone now, in the past. At the same time, the way she was in the end was hard, it was frustrating, and it was emotionally and physically taxing. And you know what?

It's ok that we were relieved it was over. It's ok that we felt both sad and glad. Because we all did what we could for her till the very end, and that's all any of us could do.

When the death of a loved one is inevitable, we often stretch ourselves thin to make sure we make every moment count. We get anticipatory grief, and that can make the weight feel much heavier. It's worse if, like in the case of my grandma, we slowly see that person becoming someone very different from what we remembered. That person can become mean because they're confused, they don't understand what's happening to them. They can become detached or non-verbal as their mind and body slowly degrades. Or maybe they were always a difficult person to deal with, and their antemortem period is all the more strained.

When people feel like they're not allowed to express their true thoughts or feelings, it can complicate the grief process. Death is natural, but it's also complex, because people are complex.

I cannot tell you how many people's posture loosens dramatically when I say "It's ok to feel however you're feeling, it's ok to feel some relief now that it's over". Because so many people think they need to put on a certain image for everyone else.

When you're in a position like my mom was, where she was one of the only people who really was close to grandma in her final days, it can feel like no one else really understands. No one else got to go through the verbal abuse, the anger, frustration, and fear. They were allowed to remember grandma how she was. She and so many other people who go through something like that feel like if they complain at all, that it's disrespectful to the memory of that person who died.

But each grief journey is unique, and each relationship is different. If you can, find a person who you can express your true feelings to about the situation. For some people, that person is going to be the funeral director. Someone who sees so many different types of people, grief stories, and types of death. And that's ok. When you're in arrangements, it's ok to say "I'm glad they're not suffering anymore. I just want this whole thing to be over so I can move on."

That's also why having a viewing can be helpful; you get to see that person one last time, peaceful and at rest. But I'll save that topic for another post.

It's ok to feel many different things at once. Because humans are complex, we can feel sad and relieved at the same time. We can feel pain and joy simultaneously, hurt and comfort. Allow yourself all of those feelings, find someone who you can talk to in confidence about them. If you didn't have a good relationship with the person that died, tell a friend, write it down in a journal, express it to the funeral director. Have a private channel that you can get that feeling out into the open, acknowledge it, sit with it, and move through it. And take comfort in the freedom and relief that brings.

If any of you out there would like more resources on coping with grief and loss, Talk Death has many articles and links to things that can help. I'm not affiliated with them, but I find them to be an extremely useful and encouraging resource for helping with these heavy topics, as well as education around death, dying and everything that goes with it. Funeral homes also will sometimes have a counselor on staff that you can talk to, or at least a referral for one. If you have the time and monetary means, these people can be extremely helpful. Or maybe you'll feel more comfortable with an End of Life Doula, who can help you navigate the aftermath. These people are not licensed counselors, but they can connect you to resources, give you guidance through your grief, and help you through the next steps.

Remember to be kind to yourself, and to not feel like you have to conform to other people's expectations of how you should feel.

Love and hugs to you all.

-Memento Mori-

[roboticnebula]

Trick or treat!

You get a… trick?

This is a snippet from a fic concept I’m exploring but still hesitant to actually write! It started out as a silly ‘Barry and Jay are in a passive-aggressive argument and Alan and Hal do not understand how is it the speedsters are fighting instead of them’. And then it got... sad.

Background AlanJay and Halbarry.

Jay is aware he and Barry are arguing over two barely distinguishable shades of beige paint for the guest room, but their fight isn’t really about the paint color anyways. Alan and Hal made themselves scarce a few hours ago, the moment Jay commented he didn’t want his guest room to be the same shade as Barry’s sweater vests, and Barry immediately retorted it was a good thing Jay wouldn’t actually be the one sleeping in the room then.

This was after a long debate over paint swatches, where both Alan and Hal’s inputs that the room should have a nice non-beige color, had gone entirely unheard. The lanterns had realized they were standing in the blast zone and been unwilling to risk becoming collateral damage. Jay is glad to see that after all these long years with them, the GLs are finally starting to be smart about the whole fearless thing.  

It’s a good thing they left when they did too, because paint started flying quickly after. The walls of the guest room are absolutely atrocious right now, randomly sploshed with paint and primer, a whole gallon wasted and spilled all over the floor, but Barry and Jay have retreated to the kitchen to wash up and calm down. Jay is leaning against the counter, waiting for the water to boil for his tea. He’s got paint in his hair, but hasn’t bothered to try and get it off, only rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands. Barry is very quiet as he scrubs his arms and forehead free of the paint, his annoyance is palpable in the air, and Jay doesn’t know why he’s so irritated when he insisted on helping out with repainting the room.

Barry won’t leave him alone these days, it’s annoying.

“Did you go get that extra gallon from the garage, yet?” Jay asks him, gruffly.

Something flashes in Barry’s eyes: sad, scared, quickly buried, and Jay realises it’s not the first time he’s asked.

“Yes,” says Barry.

For the first time all day, his tone is light and neutral, instead of passive aggressive, and the patience behind it annoys Jay even more, a flush of rage crawling up his throat. The phone is deadly quiet on the countertop between them, and Jay vacillates between grateful and irritated that Barry is handling him with kid gloves.

They both know what diagnostic is coming: it’s why Jay hasn’t actually kicked Barry out of his house yet, even if he’s still mad at him for confronting him about this and convincing him to go get tested. Jay didn’t want to be alone when he got the call. Jay didn’t want to get the call at all, doesn’t want to have to break the news to Alan and have Barry, Wally, Bart and the others worry. He wants to stay in denial, wants more time. At 90, Jay hasn’t been bitter about slowing down until this very moment: when it gives his own damned mind the chance to fall apart at the seams.

Barry is saying something about the quality of the wall primer when he’s interrupted by the shrill ringtone of the phone. They both fall quiet and stare at it, their fight entirely forgotten. Barry practically falls in the seat in front of Jay, but doesn’t press: they’re both stretching the seconds of this moment, remain on the cusp of change before it becomes irreversible.    

Jay’s first instinct is to run the phone to the Atlantic Ocean and chuck it, but he focuses on Barry and catches his own reflection in the oven door behind him. They both look ridiculous, the first two Flashes, covered in paint, and childishly arguing. He laughs, slightly hysterical, but also absolutely delighted. He looks at Barry and thinks: this man is my legacy, I would not choose any other and it gives him the courage he needs. He stays standing up, picks up the phone and places it down on speaker between them.

“Mr. Garrick, this is Dr. Brady. I have your test results in front of me and I’m sorry but I have some bad news.”

---

The idea would be to explore speedster physiology as they age/effects of the speed force long term/what that healing factor can handle, but also how chosen family can rally around you when you’re dealing with something like Alzheimer.

Apart from some stray notes and drafts, this snippet is all I have to show for it for now.

Thank you for the ask, I hope you enjoyed! Happy Halloween!

[vesselandmoon]

Sundowning

Since I got ahead of myself I decided to post the story version of this first, I thought it only made sense to also post my own take that is not in that format.

I swear I will attempt to be concise and not ramble, but no promises.

When I first saw the title of the album I thought it was a little odd but it stirred some memories of a deceased relative that struggled with this. For that reason I will TW sundowning as well as dementia and Alzheimer's, just in case. Also, the little personal experience backstory here will be between the asterisks if you wish to skip it.

***

That being said, I recall how she was during the day. Of course, we are talking about a woman well into her nineties at the time so there was very little that she did besides watch television. Evangelical preachers and the news more often than not. She wasn't bed ridden or anything of that nature and other than typical ailments for her age, she was rather healthy. Days were slow and quiet.

But as late afternoon crept in, tension built in the house. As she was able to stay home until her passing, she was accompanied at all times by at least one other person, be it family or hired ladies that assisted in her care. She would become confused, agitated, and paranoid. I won't go any further into it, but what I experienced made me wonder about Vessel.

***

Why the title of Sundowning when that is usually reserved for individuals suffering from dementia and Alzheimer's? Then I considered it as less of something he could not help, and more of a state he suffered as a result of knowing Sleep was coming. This plays up on my thought of Sleep being a separate entity that can (in some way) possess Vessel. Sleep isn't always there, but when he is, Vessel can feel him coming.

See, in lore context I wonder... when it's sundown you're growing closer to the time to sleep. Night is settling in and there is only so much time left before you must sleep. Fighting that sleep is always an option but rarely has positive consequences.

Vessel obviously doesn't have dementia so what if it's more in the sense that the night is coming and so is Sleep? I assume Sleep does not join Vessel every night, mostly because I believe that Sleep finds ways to manipulate Vessel and keep him in a state of longing or desire and what better way to do that than by living by the adage "absence makes the heart grow fonder". Let Vessel suffer through the night alone and when Sleep is present, it would bring so much relief, that Vessel would see the encounter as worth it no matter how unfulfilled he feels in the morning.

The prospect of the encounter could cause Vessel to pace and grow agitated or confused on how to feel about it. Seeking some kind of companionship to not be alone through the night, which is when most people struggle with loneliness, while also knowing that what's coming might not leave him feeling as fulfilled as he hopes.

This would tie in with my thoughts on Thread the Needle but that is for another post. However, I will say that it is the idea of giving his all to Sleep while accepting the bare minimum in return. I can relate to Vessel's side of that. I'm not proud to admit it, but when I was younger I obsessed with someone very similar. Only at night did they acknowledge my presence and they gave me just enough to keep me craving more. I was afraid of being alone, afraid of losing them, so I allowed a lot of things to happen just for the sake of the relationship. I'm still fighting the consequences of that.

A bit of a personal take I suppose, but aren't we all projecting just a little?

[lcngdays]

not my grandpa having the insane notion that i'm gonna quit my summer job and come work as a carer for my grandma who has late stage dementia

[lucky-whispers]

I feel like every time I see a sad q!BBH post about his death or his memory loss a little bit more of me breaks. There's something so horribly similar that's going on in my life that it is just gut wrenching to see the similarities. The way he stares off into space, the way he is trying so damn hard, the way that even if he returns, it will never be the same (or at least it probably won't be- I haven't had time to watch the newer streams).

I genuinely had to stop watching one of his streams because it's already such a struggle to see it in real life and not being able to escape, but this one place where I was supposed to be able to laugh and cry and shut it off suddenly got so much more real.

Sorry for the sort of vent-y post just rough day haha

[shizucheese]

6 years ago we had to put my dad in a nursing home.

He had dementia and it had progressed to the point where he needed a level of care he could not get at home.

And I felt so powerless. My dad and I weren't close, by any means, but still had to watch my mom watch the person she had been with since she was 23 basically die twice.

And that's the origin story of how I started streaming, because at least then it felt like I was doing something. Like if I could someday get to the point where I could make money from it, maybe I could use it to help my mom, who was incredibly stressed about money at the time (nursing homes are expensive, y'all).

Well, my dad died in April of 2021, and I didn't make affiliate on Twitch until this past July. My platform is still small, but it's there, and once again I'm feeling helpless. And once again I'm turning to streaming to try and make some kind of impact.

I've always wanted to have a long enough list of charities that I could fund raise for a different organization every month. Thanks to resources that people have been passing around in the wake of November 5th, combined with the small list of organizations that were already on the list because they are personally important to me, I now have a list that gets me through August. If anyone has any recommendations for organizations to fill in at least September and October, I would greatly appreciate it; if nothing else I can always raise money for the Greater Chicago Food Depository in November and December like I am this year. My only requirements be that they are legitimate organizations that do good work for marginalized people, and use their money well, and are or can be available to raise money for via Twitch or Tiltifiy, for accessibility purposes. Also October is ADHD Awareness so if possible I would prefer an organization related to that, preferably one that provides resources for adults with ADHD and not just children/ people in school. I know that's probably incredibly specific but it's also something incredibly important to me and I feel super lost on where/ how to find what I'm looking for, if it even exists.

Thanks so much to anyone who can help out in whatever way they can. Let's get through this together. Current fundraising schedule (also open for feedback):

January: Trans Lifeline

February: National Runaway Safeline

March: National Domestic Violence Hotline

April: Alzheimer’s Research Association

May: Rape Abuse and Incest National Network

June: The Trevor Project

July: Greater Chicago Food Depository

August: PAWS Chicago

September: ?

October: ? (Preferably something ADHD related)

November: ? (Greater Chicago Food Depository?)

December: ? (Greater Chicago Food Depository?)

[mynamesnotdahlia]

Will simon forget that betty isnt technically around because that happens with dementia right(?)

Absolutely. He tends to think of her as being away but not gone, like he could just go in the other room and find her there, or that she's on a trip.

He talks about her a lot and it's one of the main ways people have found to calm him down, to ask him about stuff with Betty gets him less agitated. When he gets more prone to wandering he tends to get confused and default to looking for her to try and figure out what he was doing. There's been a couple times where he gets brought back to PB and Marcy by a helpful candy citizen who found him wandering calling for her. He might default to calling women around him Betty or Princess and it can be hard to tell if it's a placeholder name or if he genuinely thinks she's there.

[xxmolls]

Lately, after hearing about the passing of a woman with Alzheimer’s whom I cared deeply for, I have been thinking a lot about death.

I went through a phase when I was 10 years old where I would lie awake at night, ruminating on the indisputable fact that everyone I love will one day die.

It used to terrify me.

Just the concept that one day they’d be in my life, and the next I would never see them again.

My Southern Baptist paternal grandparents had tried early on to teach me about Heaven and Hell. To get me to believe in Jesus so I could go to Heaven.

Despite their best efforts, I never did believe in an afterlife.

I have always just known, deep down in my gut, that I believe there is nothing after death.

When I was 10 and scared of the concept of death, I would eventually go to wake my parents in their room.

My mom would come lay with me in my little bed, rubbing my back and whispering in the darkness about death.

She does not believe in an afterlife either.

“Aren’t you scared to die?” I’d ask her, my knuckles turning white as I held onto her pajama top.

“No,” she said. “You get to a point when you’re older where you just accept it. It is a fact of life. There’s nothing you can do about it. And after you’re dead you won’t even know you’re dead or hurt or be scared… you’ll just be gone.” “But what about people you love dying? If there’s no Heaven, then we will never see each other again.” My mom didn’t falter, her voice steady and clear.

“You know, when I was your age, I was scared of death too. And I would go get my dad at night when I couldn’t sleep. He didn’t believe in an afterlife either. You know what he told me he believes happens when we die?” She didn’t need a response before she continued.

“He told me we live on through people’s memories of us. That is how you keep the people you love alive… through telling stories about them and remembering them.”

(continued under the cut)

*

My maternal grandfather had a brilliant mind. He skipped two grades in elementary school, went to Princeton, got a PhD in clinical psychology, and was a bit of a snob about his intellectual interests and hobbies.

He and my mom were incredibly close when she was younger. But after going through a divorce from my grandma when my mom was 12, and after tensions between his new wife and my mother for the rest of his life, their relationship was rocky at times.

He seemed to relish a fresh slate with her daughter. His first granddaughter.

From the beginning of my life, I knew I was absolutely adored and cherished by my grandfather.

My cousins and sister still casually point out how I was his favorite, and he made it no secret.

From my earliest memories, he would visit and take me to classical music concerts and art museums. He would gift me cassette tapes of Bach and Chopin, and I would listen to them to fall asleep.

He frequently told me how I needed to go to Princeton for college, like him. When I spoke softly to him, he insisted I take speech classes to be able to speak clearly and “be a strong woman who advocates for herself.” When we would go to the same local restaurant on his visits, he’d always order a margarita.

When I wanted one too and was upset that he refused, he promised me that after I turned 21 and graduated college (hopefully Princeton), we would have margaritas together.

He had many hopes and dreams for me.

One of his earliest dreams for me was that he wanted me to play the piano.

He had a beautiful grand piano himself. From a young age I would sit on his lap as he played the Moonlight Sonata.

When I turned 5, he bought a used digital Yamaha piano for me and insisted my mom get me piano lessons.

For most of my life, I was told again and again how my grandfather “got me into music.”

Anytime I played the piano for him he would be glowing with pride. His joyful and proud expression echoes in my memories when I think of him.

* For all his brilliance and the good health he enjoyed for most of his life, my grandpa’s brain failed him.

In his early 70’s, he began to develop Alzheimer’s.

At first he was incredibly angry. He was used to being the smartest person in the room, and now he couldn’t even find the right words to finish a sentence. Now, people looked at him in pity and talked down to him.

I was a teenager and distressed by how I could see my beloved grandfather fading away.

And as I got older, I had a hard time remembering what he was like when he wasn’t sick.

My memories morphed from joy to the intense sadness I felt when I witnessed him falling while going up the stairs. He was sprawled on the ground helplessly with an expression of confusion on his face. He looked like a scared little boy. He could not pull himself up, and we had to call a neighbor for assistance in carrying him into the house.

As he aged, his memory failed him, and his body began to fail him as well.

He was a shell of the grandfather I knew. He completely lost his ability to speak by the time I went to college (not Princeton).

*

When I was 19, I got late stage neurological Lyme disease.

Along with other neurological symptoms like pseudo-seizures and brain fog, I also started to have memory problems.

I could not find my words and often had long pauses in my speech.

I forgot the name of a friend who had lived in my apartment building just a semester before.

I opened the cutlery drawer to find a can opener, when I was struck with the realization that I could not remember what a can opener looked like.

I woke up one day in complete terror when I realized that I had no idea who I was, or where I was. I kept willing my memory to rush back in, but it took a good 5 minutes of agony before I finally remembered my name and that I was home safe in my apartment.

Through it all, I would make time to visit my grandfather, who was clearly nearing the end of his life.

He could not remember words or names, and did not recognize most people, but when he would see me, his eyes would light up and he would grab my hand.

“My special girl,” he’d call me, shaking my hand with emphasis.

* Through my work as a caregiver in a memory unit of a nursing home in recent years, I saw a lot of things that scared me.

Aging and dying seemed so slow and painful to me.

I saw once vibrant and beloved adults become stripped of their personalities and memories. I saw them wasting away in a sterile, dehumanizing environment. I saw the pain they went through, and I saw the pain their family members went through as they gradually lost them.

One thing I noticed is that the residents who were happiest and most at peace were the ones who had loved ones visit them frequently, who had loved ones at their side holding their hand through their gradual passing.

I began to get nightmares of what would happen when my parents got older, and what would happen if I got to be that age.

In all of my worst nightmares, I wake up from my slumber in an unfamiliar nursing home, my memories completely gone, and I am alone.

* The last time I visited my grandfather was when I had just turned 21 years old.

I hadn’t graduated college yet (my Lyme made sure of that), and I was having a lot of physical health troubles from my illness. I was heavily medicated, and absolutely miserable.

We were out in his backyard garden on the patio, and my step-grandmother brought him a hot diet coke with a straw.

She offered me a soda too.

We both sat in silence as others around us chattered away. We were both struggling to find the right words. Both of our brains were betraying us.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t get our margaritas,” I told him softly. He grabbed my hand and squeezed.

As I left his house that day, I looked back to capture him in my memories. I knew it would probably be the last time I saw him.

He was old and frail. He looked so lost. I was not sure I wanted this to be the image I had of him in my mind.

But his whole face lit up as he waved and said again,

“My special girl.”

*

When it became time for him to go, I was completely bedridden at my parents’ home in Missouri.

I was in horrible pain and in constant motion.

I could hardly tell the difference between my tics and my pseudoseizures. They both made it completely impossible for me to walk, talk, feed myself, and even bathe myself.

Around that time I was taking over 30 pills a day to try and mitigate my symptoms. I had not yet gotten diagnosed with Lyme Disease.

My Tourette’s neurologist whom I had seen since I was 11 years old started crying at our appointment.

“I would do anything to help you,” he said, “but I think the only option we have left is experimental brain surgery.”

I became incontinent. My doctors prescribed me sleeping pills just to “give my body a break.”

Still, I always hoped that when my grandpa passed, I’d be beside him holding his hand.

But when the time came, I couldn’t get on a plane to see him much less get out of bed to go to the bathroom.

My mom and sister went on their own to say goodbye. They played him his favorite classical music, and they held his hand and talked to him in low voices of how much they loved him.

The next morning, he was gone.

* I have never believed in an afterlife, and I have never believed in anything supernatural.

The night my grandpa died, I was loaded up on sleeping pills and mercifully unconscious.

Around 3 am, I woke up abruptly.

All around me I could smell my grandfather. It smelled like he did when he hugged me, when he took me in his arms to sit on his lap and play the piano together. It smelled of comfort and love.

I was still woozy from the sleeping pills, but I swear I could sense his presence.

I got the sense that he was waiting for something.

With sudden clarity, I smiled and spoke out loud “I’ll be okay. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m going to be okay.”

The smell then intensified, and wrapped around me. I could sense it everywhere. I could sense him everywhere. And then it was gone. I still wonder if it was truly there. That is the only supernatural experience I have ever had. But still I hold onto it and believe it to be true.

*

The next day I wrote this song for him, if only to keep him alive a moment more.

Lyrics:

Holding Hands

We passed away our money We spent up all our time If my love for you is silver my heart's a silver mine

I hold your hand and swallow I don't have enough words 'Cause our life together is dying As the pain in you grows worse

Would you say "I love you"? So I could memorize your voice Would you stay with me forever If you even had the choice?

The grass outside the window Looks healthier than you If I call this our last winter Would you tell me that's untrue

This is the last moment This is your final breath I sit beside you holding hands Hours past your death

Would you say "I love you"? So I could memorize your voice Would you stay with me forever If you even had the choice?

All around our house things seem as they were before but I can't help but tremble every time I shut a door

I think you're here beside me I can feel you touch my hair Would you follow me less softly So I always know you’re there

Would you say "I love you"? So I could memorize your voice Would you stay with me forever If you even had the choice?

You will follow me And I will follow you And even in the darkness We'll see how our love grew And even in the darkness I'll be holding hands with you

[dimas-favorite]

Today is important.