#young people with alzheimer

[fingertipsmp3]

People need to train their dogs and I’m not asking nicely anymore

[thesarcasticism]

Whenever I experience difficult situations I throw them at my Blorbo. Like, you deal with it

[banglakhobor]

আলজ্যাইমার্সের প্রকোপ বাড়ছে যুবকদের মধ্যে! লক্ষণ, প্রতিরোধের উপায় বলছেন বিশেষজ্ঞ

বিভিন্ন জেলায় বাড়ছে এই রোগের প্রকোপ। গোরখপুরে বর্তমানে এক অদ্ভুত রোগের শিকার হচ্ছেন যুবকরা। আগে সাধারণত এই রোগটি বয়স্কদের মধ্যেই বেশি দেখা যেত। বয়স্কদের মধ্যে এই রোগের উপসর্গ পাওয়া গেলেও গত কয়েক মাস ধরে লক্ষ্য করা যাচ্ছে যে বেশিরভাগ যুবকই এই রোগে আক্রান্ত। অনেক তরুণরাও এই সমস্যার সমাধান পেতে সাইকো��জিস্টের দ্বারস্থ হচ্ছেন। বর্তমানে গোরখপুরে মাত্র ২০ থেকে ৪০ বছর বয়সী যুবকদের মধ্যে…

[snowsinterlude]

Remember The Time.

(coriolanus snow x reader)

summary: there was a time where that boy craved and wanted love more than power. and you remembered it better than he did.

c.w: songfic, young president snow, angst, wife!reader, mentions to academy times, mentions to sex, cheating, pregnancy

back when you both were seventeen, back when he was poorer than the district people, who were rich when it comes to love, coriolanus had one person who was always there for him; you.

beautiful, dazzling, shining you. with your shining eyes, your perfume, your way of walking and talking and going as far as to making him fall in love with you. yes, the now president of panem, who was colder than the own snow, who always landed on top, who never looked up to anyone, was once a time ago, a boy. an innocent, craving love boy.

when we were young and innocent.

he got your hand tangled on his, his eyes gleaming and shining at the sight of your much smaller hand on his. he was so cute there. everything seemed to be sugar coated and honeyed up; the hand-made gifts, the flowers he handed you, the way he played with your hair and braided it oh so nicely.

everything was a memory now. nothing but something that you'd remember until you had something like amnesia or alzheimer when you were older.

"y/n!" he called, walking to your direction. athletically skinny, tall, blonde. the perfect depiction of a pretty boy.

he reached for you, his hand reaching for yours, his lips curling into a smile to you, his eyes couldn't seem to leave you, your eyes, your figure, everything in you was like a diamond for him.

carefully, he placed a daisy flower behind your ear, trying to get it right, trying to put it in the right position.

"coryo," you smiled at him, so sweetly that he thought he would lose his teeth. he thanked god he didn’t. "how have you been?"

"fine. better now. saw this flower yesterday, it reminded me of you." he said, fingers laced on yours.

he was too sweet when he was with you. sweet like white chocolate, one only you could taste, for when it comes to others he was as venomous as a snake.

🌼

rotting in your room, you heard the window; a rock being thrown in it. you opened the quicker you could- you just had to yell for that person to stop throwing rock at your window. they are expensive.

you were met with his eyes. looking at you as if you were a jewel. staring back at you as if there's nothing prettier than you in a nightdress or you on a general basis

you quickly forgot the face you were doing; the one that showed displeasure now showed love, something you had in stock for him.

"coryo." you said, seeing him climbing to your window. he leaned in it.

"is ir a bad timing?" he asked, and you couldn't have a better answer for it than a roll of your eyes.

"of course! gosh, it's snowing out there-"

"i'm a snow."

"you're an human being." you said, helping him in and closing the door to your room. your dad thought of coriolanus as the one who would lead you down the wrong path. he seemed to feel it in his bones, saying he looks poor or anything like it. "you should be at your house! what would i do if you get a cold?"

his hands travelled to your waist, a devious grin played on his lips as he kissed your shoulder.

"warm me up?" he proposed, making you chuckle, but then you were on his lap, kissing him in a way that would keep him warm for days and days, fucking him until his body was as hot as the summer, loving him until flowers blossomed and died.

you did, in fact, warmed him up. so many times that it would be a joke to say that he was cold- physically, at least.

with that being said, it was a surprise to you when he came back from district 12- he had changed. he had another girl's perfume on him.

then you remembered her. you met her once. lucy gray baird. of course, neither did you and neither did coriolanus told her you were engaged.

engaged. such a strong word- and at the same time, weak when it comes to flesh.

back in the spring.

"you cheated on me." you said, trying to keep yourself calm- you couldn't. your heart was too loud, your poor lungs didn't seem to be functioning anymore- everything seemed loud to you. "with her. with lucy- god, and she didn't even knew! where is she?!"

"i don't- y/n, listen, i-"

"-'i' what? you didn't cheat? you weren't with her? you were supposed to be at district 8! how come you were on 12?!"

he kept quiet. he didn’t had an answer other than 'i didn’t cheat', did he? of course not.

"i love you," he said. "i love you, y/n."

"you don't. you never did. you don't know what love feels like- you don't know how it is." he did. he did know how it was and felt. each thump of his heart was beating out of his ribcage with the despair of losing you.

with that being clear, it didn't took much time for him to be president.

soon enough, you both were married.

🌼

it's not like you forgave him. you didn't. your father married you off to him after he won the elections. did you love him? god, of course you did. but not like before. never like before. you still had hope that he would be there. that your lovely boy would still be there, bouquet in his hand, hands finding yours in the secrecy of the darkest places of the academy; but that boy wasn't anywhere to be found.

instead, there was a man, a ruthless, cruel, cold-hearted man who never looked up to anyone. who never looked directly into your eyes, but past them.

sitting by his side, cutting the steak on your plate, everything was just as silent as in a funeral until you spoke, finally.

"coriolanus." you called. "do you remember the time we fell in love?"

quiet.

you kept going. "we would be together all times, talking about how highbottom hated you. we would skip classes saying we were sick when we would actually hang out."

he kept quiet.

"you would come to my window at least three times per month, always promising things and handing me flowers." you said.

quiet, quiet, quiet. quiet. you decided to be more straightforward this time.

"then we would warm ourselves up. you would fuck me and ask for my hand in marriage and say you would make me the happiest woman alive." you said.

"what do you want?" he asked, finally.

"i'm pregnant." you hear his fork fall to his plate. "i know you don't love me and i am not going to beg for your love. but i want to raise this child with love. and if we'll have to pretend we like eachother and love eachother then i am okay with it."

he kept quiet, again. and you kept going, without knowing about the ache of his heart; both of happiness and mourn. mourn, because he knew you didn't love him anymore. he knew that if it wasn't for the baby forming on your body you would run away from him.

"i don't want this child to be depressed nor to have the knowledge of how we don't like eachother." you said. "i want this child to be happy."

he was almost gagging. your eyes were pooling up on tears you didn't want to cry, your voice cracking up.

"okay." he said. there was not a better answer for that than this.

when dinner was over, you both went separate ways; he would go to his office, you would go to your chambers.

no one would know about the heartbreak of the other.

no one would hear nor see the tears rolling down your faces; the redness, the runny nose, the sobs. they would never be heard.

and everything between both that was once a happy memory, was nothing but a photo in your memories. a happy painting portraying a couple that was yet to be separated.

[heepthecheep]

Fuck it.

*said by the same person who said the last one. She had lots of ideas like this but considered herself a hardcore progressive

*ie. Maternity ward.

* this is, in fact, not how it works

*yes, this person was an old timer. She also said that in retrospect, the switch was a "christofacist" conspiracy theory.

*and I quote, verbatim, because this was so absurd I had to write it down, "When they (parents) have a kid that young they can always just have another

People already know that the medical/health fields have issues. But oh fucking Lord, it's so much worse than the average person thinks

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Radio Times magazine from the 29 July-04 August 2023 :)

THE SECOND COMING

How did Terry Pratchett and Neil gaiman overcome the small matter of Pratchett's death to make another series of their acclaimed divine comedy?

For all the dead authors in the world,” legendary comedy producer John Lloyd once said, “Terry Pratchett is the most alive.” And he’s right. Sir Terry is having an extremely busy 2023… for someone who died in 2015.

This week sees the release of Good Omens 2, the second series of Amazon’s fantasy comedy drama based on the cult novel Pratchett co-wrote with Neil Gaiman in the late 1980s. This will be followed in the autumn by a new spin-off book from Pratchett’s Discworld series, Tiffany Aching’s Guide to Being a Witch, co-written by Pratchett’s daughter Rhianna and children’s author Gabrielle Kent. The same month, we’ll also get A Stroke of the Pen, a collection of “lost” short stories written by Sir Terry for local newspapers in the 70s and 80s and recently rediscovered. Clearly, while there are no more books coming from Pratchett – a hard drive containing all drafts and unpublished work was crushed by a vintage steamroller shortly after the author’s death, as per his specific wishes – people still want to visit his vivid and addictive worlds in new ways.

Good Omens 2 will be the first test of how this can work. The original book started life as a 5,000-word short story by Gaiman, titled William the Antichrist and envisioned as a bit of a mashup of Richmal Crompton’s Just William books and the 70s horror classic The Omen. What would happen, Gaiman had mused, if the spawn of Satan had been raised, not by a powerful American diplomat, but by an extremely normal couple in an idyllic English village, far from the influence of hellish forces? He’d sent the first draft to bestselling fantasy author Pratchett, a friend of many years, and then forgotten about it as he busied himself with continuing to write his massively popular comic books, including Violent Cases, Black Orchid and The Sandman, which became a Netflix series last year.

Pratchett loved the idea, offering to either buy the concept from Gaiman or co-write it. It was, as Gaiman later said, “like Michelangelo phoning and asking if you want to paint a ceiling” The pair worked on the book together from that point on, rewriting each other as they went and communicating via long phone calls and mailed floppy discs. “The actual mechanics worked like this: I would do a bit, then Neil would take it away and do a bit more and give it back to me,” Pratchett told Locus magazine in 1991. “We’d mess about with each other’s bits and pieces.”

Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch – to give it its full title –was published in 1990 to huge acclaim. It was one of, astonishingly, five Terry Pratchett novels to be published that year (he averaged two a year, including 41 Discworld novels and many other standalone works and collaborations).

It was also, clearly, extremely filmable, and studios came knocking — though getting it made took a while. rnvo decades on from its writing, four years after Pratchett's death from Alzheimer's disease aged 66, and after several doomed attempts to get a movie version off the ground, Good Omens finally made it to TV screens in 2019, scripted and show-run by Gaiman himself. "Terry was egging me on to make it into television. He knew he was dying, and he knew that I wouldn't start it without him," Gaiman revealed in a 2019 Radio Times interview. Amazon and the BBC co-produced with Pratchett's company Narrativia and Gaiman's Blank Corporation production studios, with Michael Sheen and David Tennant cast in the central roles of Aziraphale the angel and Crowley the demon. The show was a hit, not just with fans of its two creators, but with a whole new young audience, many of whom had no interest in Discworld or Sandman. Social media networks like Tumblr and TikTok were soon awash with cosplay, artwork and fan fiction. The original novel became, for the first time, a New York Times bestseller.

A follow up was, on one level, a no-brainer. The world Pratchett and Gaiman had created was vivid, funny and accessible, and Tennant and Sheen had found an intriguing romantic spark in their chemistry not present in the novel.

There was, however, a huge problem. There wasn't a second Good Omens book to base it on. But there was the ghost of an idea.

In 1989, after the book had been sold but before it had come out, the two authors had laid on fivin beds in a hotel room at a convention in Seattle and, jet-lagged and unable to sleep, plotted out, in some detail, what would happen in a sequel, provisionally titled 668, The II Neighbour of the Beast.

"It was a good one, too" Gaiman wrote in a 2021 blog. "We fully intended to write it, whenever we next had three or four months free. Only I went to live in America and Terry stayed in the UK, and after Good Omens was published, Sandman became SANDMAN and Discworld became DISCWORLD(TM) and there wasn't a good time."

Back in 1991, Pratchett elaborated, "We even know some of the main characters in it. But there's a huge difference between sitting there chatting away, saying, 'Hey, we could do this, we could do that,' and actually physically getting down and doing it all again." In 2019, Gaiman pillaged some of those ideas for Good Omens series one (for example, its final episode wasn't in the book at all), and had left enough threads dangling to give him an opening for a sequel. This is the well he's returned to for Good Omens 2, co-writing with comic John Finnemore - drafted in, presumably, to plug the gap left Pratchett's unparalleled comedic mind. No small task.

Projects like Good Omens 2 are an important proving ground for Pratchett's legacy: can the universes he conjured endure without their creator? And can they stay true to his spirit? Sir Terry was famously protective of his creations, and there have been remarkably few adaptations of his work considering how prolific he was. "What would be in it for me?" he asked in 2003. "Money? I've got money."

He wanted his work treated reverently and not butchered for the screen. It's why Good Omens and projects like Tiffany Aching's Guide to Being a Witch are made with trusted members of the inner circle like Neil Gaiman and Rhianna Pratchett at the helm. It's also why the author's estate, run by Pratchett's former assistant and business manager Rob Wilkins, keeps a tight rein on any licensed Pratchett material — it's a multi-million dollar media empire still run like a cottage industry.

And that's heartening. Anyone who saw BBC America's panned 2021 Pratchett adaptation The Watch will know how badly these things can go when a studio is allowed to run amok with the material without oversight. These stories deserve to be told, and these worlds deserve to be explored — properly. And there are, apparently, many plans afoot for more Pratchett on the screen. You can only hope that, somewhere, he'll be proud of the results.

After all, as he wrote himself, "No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away, until the clock wound up winds down, until the wine she made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone's life is only the core of their actual existence."

While those ripples continue to spread, Sir Terry Pratchett remains very much alive. MARC BURROWS

DIVINE DUO

An angel and a demon walk into a pub... Michael Sheen and David Tennant on family, friendship and Morecambe & Wise

Outside it's cold winter's day and we're in a Scottish studio, somewhere between Edinburgh and Glasgow. But inside it's lunchtime in The Dirty Donkey pub in the heart of London, with both Michael Sheen and David Tennant surveying the scene appreciatively. "This is a great pub," says Sheen eagerly, while Tennant calls it "the best Soho there can be. A slightly heightened, immaculate, perfect, dreamy Soho."

Here, a painting of the absent landlord — the late Terry Pratchett, co-creator, with Neil Gaiman, of the series' source novel — looms over punters. Around the corner is AZ Fell and Co Antiquarian and Unusual Books. It's the bookshop owned by Sheen's character, the angel Aziraphale, and the place to where Tennant's demon Crowley is inevitably drawn.

It's day 74 of an 80-day shoot for a series that no one, least of all the leading actors, ever thought would happen, due to the fact that Pratchett and Gaiman hadn't ever published any sequel to their 1990 fantasy satire. Tennant explains, "What we didn't know was that Neil and Terry had had plots and plans..."

Still, lots of good things are in Good Omens 2, which expands on the millennia-spanning multiverse of the first series. These include a surprisingly naked side of John Hamm, and roles for both Tennant's father-in-law (Peter Davison) and 21-year-old son Ty. At its heart, though, remains the brilliant banter between the two leading men — as Sheen puts it, "very Eric and Ernie !" — whose chemistry on the first series led to one of the more surprising saviours of lockdown telly.

Good Omens is back — but you've worked together a lot in the meantime. Was there a connective tissue between series one of Good Omens and Staged, your lockdown sitcom?

David: Only in as much as the first series went out, then a few months later, we were all locked in our houses. And because of the work we'd done on Good Omens, it occurred that we might do something else. I mean, Neil Gaiman takes full responsibility for Staged. Which, to some extent, he's probably right to do!

Michael: We've got to know each other through doing this. Our lives have gotten more entwined in all kinds of ways — we have children who've now become friends, and our families know each other.

There have been hints of a romantic storyline between the two characters. How much of an undercurrent is that in this series.

David: Nothing's explicit.

Michael: I felt from the very beginning that part of what would be interesting to explore is that Aziraphale is a character, a being, who just loves. How does that manifest itself in a very specific relationship with another being? Inevitably, as there is with everything in this story, there's a grey area. The fact that people see potentially a "romantic relationship", I thought that was interesting and something to explore.

There was a petition to have the first series banned because of its irreverent take on Christian tropes. Series two digs even more deeply into the Bible with the story of Job. How much of a badge of honour is it that the show riles the people who like to ban things?

David: It's not an irreligious show at all. It's actually very respectful of the structure of that sort of religious belief. The idea that it promotes Satanism [is nonsense]. None of the characters from hell are to be aspired to at all! They're a dreadful bunch of non-entities. People are very keen to be offended, aren't they? They're often looking for something to glom on to without possibly really examining what they think they're complaining about.

Michael, you're known as an activist, and you're in the middle of Making BBC drama The Way, which "taps into the social and political chaos of today's world". Is it important for you to use your plaform to discuss causes you believe in?

Michael: The Way is not a political tract, it's just set in the area that I come from. But it has to matter to you, doesn't it? More and more as I get older, [I find] it can be a real slog doing this stuff. You've got to enjoy it. And if it doesn't matter to you, then it's just going to be depressing.

David, Michael has declared himself a "not-for-profit" actor. Has he tried to persuade you to give up all your money too?

David: What an extraordinary question! One is always aware that one has a certain responsibility if one is fortunate and gets to do a job that often doesn't feel like a job. You want to do your bit whenever you can. But at the same time, I'm an actor. I'm not about to give that up to go into politics or anything. But I'll do what I can from where I live.

Well, your son and your father-in-law are also starring in this series. How about that, jobs for the boys!

David: I know! It was a delight to get to be on set with them. And certainly an unexpected one for me. Neil, on two occasions, got to bowl up to me and say, "Guess who we've cast?!"

How do you feel about your US peers going on strike?

David: It's happening because there are issues that need to be addressed. Nobody's doing this lightly. These are important issues, and they've got to be sorted out for the future of our industry. There's this idea that writers and actors are all living high on the hog. For huge swathes of our industry, that's just not the case. These people have got to be protected.

Michael: We have to be really careful that things don't slide back to the way they were pre the 1950s, when the stories that we told were all coming from one point of view and the stories of certain people, or communities within our society, weren't represented. There's a sense that now that's changed for ever and it'll never go back. But you worry when people can't afford to have the opportunities that other people have. We don't want the story that we tell about ourselves to be myopic. You want it to be as inclusive as possible

Staged series 3 recently broadcast. It felt like the show's last hurrah — or is there more mileage? Sheen and Tennant go on holiday?

David: That's the Christmas special! One Foot in the Algarve! On the Buses Go to Spain!

Michael: I don't think we were thinking beyond three, were we?

So is it time for a conscious uncoupling for you two — Eric and Ernie say goodbye?

David: Oh, never say never, will we?

Michael: And it's more Hinge and Bracket.

David: Maybe that's what we do next — The Hinge and Bracket Story. CRAIG McLEAN

[miraculousfanworks]

Fanfiction Prompt

Gabriel Akumatizes a surgeon who lost a young child on the operating table. Asclepius is born, the great healer. For hours he walks the halls of the city's hospitals, curing everything and anything. Cancer, Alzheimer's, broken bones, all manner of ailments. Then, raising the child he'd lost. Raising others gone before their time. Until Hawkmoth issues the ultimatum. "Bring me Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculouses, or I will take your powers. Succeed, and you may keep them forever." A relatively short fight follows, for Asclepius is a healer, not a fighter. As Ladybug prepares to cast the cure, she's surrounded and accosted by tearful people. "Don't do it!" "I had cancer!" "I was dying!" "My son was dead, and he brought him back! You'll kill my son!" To their horror, she casts it anyway. As the ladybugs clear, everyone is still fine. "It's the Miracle Cure," she says, "not the Miracle Reset. It's intended to correct misuse of Miraculous magic by people with ill will or corrupted hearts. What we saw today was the closest thing to the correct, intended use of the butterfly in over 180 years." Later, Felix calls Gabriel, "Congratulations uncle, how's Aunt Emilie?" "What are you talking about!? You know exactly how she's doing! I was once again thwarted in my attempt to secure Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculouses." "I… you… you know your Akuma… like… raised the dead. Right?" "Yes? What of it?" "He… let's see, according to the news sites, he is known to have raised a child that he'd lost during an operation several hours earlier, raised a fully autopsied body, raised someone decapitated in a severe industrial accident, and even raised someone who had just been cremated." "So? The powers of the Miraculous are great, infinite, what is your point?!" "So… you had a guy on the hook who could, and did, literally turn a pile of charred bone dust back into a living breathing human… and you diDN'T THINK TO SAY 'HEY, I'VE GOT A DEAD BODY IN MY BASEMENT I WANT YOU TO COME LOOK AT?!" "I…" "Goodbye uncle…"

Prompt by Tiwaz

[ayeforscotland]

Ad | Humble Bundle offerings!

One for fans of Deckbuilders - whole bunch of games available through this bundle. Helps raise money for Cool Effect who help fight climate change.

Down on the Farm has a whole bunch of cutesy games with a focus on cultivating the land. The Witch of Fern Island has you making elixirs and decorating a mansion.

Money raised goes towards Kiss the Ground who work to educate and empower people to participate in regeneration projects.

One for comic book fans - The Witcher x Cyberpunk bundle gives you a whole bunch of comics and digital art, and helps raise money for Special Effect who do incredible work to help young disabled people play games with accessible controllers.

Work time - Want to get started in the world of cybersecurity? This bundle covers everything from pentesting to NIST Cybersecurity and Risk Management frameworks.

Money raised goes towards Alzheimer's Research - A cause very close to my heart.

[macgyvermedical]

I can’t seem to find that Post again, and I don’t know If it contained study-links to begin with, but someone recently mentioned that ADHD people who regularly take ADHD-stimulants in young-adult-hood are less likely to develop dementia in old age, BUT/AND also, for YEARS people have been joking that Part of the reason why The Orange Guy is as incoherent as he is, is because he has been abusing Adderall for decades, which implies that long-term use of Adderall is widely believed to cause/contribute-to dementia…

------------------

So I read the study that post was based on, and here’s what it said:

First, the study enrolled about 100,000 individuals in their 50s-70s and followed them for 17 years to determine their risks of developing ADHD or dementia. About 0.7% of them were diagnosed with adult ADHD during the study period, and those individuals were about 3x more likely to later be diagnosed with dementia during the study period than their peers who were not diagnosed with ADHD. 

A secondary finding of the study was that those who were treated with stimulant medications did not have this same 3-fold increase in dementia diagnoses during the study period.

To explain this, the study cites another study that looked at ADHD medications to treat Alzheimer’s Disease, ultimately stating that one possibility for this difference in dementia diagnosis rates between treated and untreated ADHD was that the ADHD medication masked/treated the symptoms of dementia. This may have ultimately delayed or prevented the diagnosis of dementia in this cohort during the study period.

Also, since the study only looked at older adults who were diagnosed with ADHD during the study period, could it be that they were actually picking up on early dementia symptoms instead of ADHD symptoms? This may have artificially inflated the number of people diagnosed with dementia after a diagnosis of ADHD.

Based on these confounding factors and the study design itself, the study cannot say that treatment of ADHD in young adults resulted in a lower rate of dementia in older adults. However, it does support treatment of both adult ADHD and dementia with stimulant medications, regardless of age.

Now, treatment of ADHD or dementia with stimulant medications (amphetamine or otherwise) and abuse of amphetamines are two very different things. People who abuse amphetamines tend to use them in much higher dosages and generally have less or no medical supervision. According to this study, people who abused amphetamines (or who had amphetamine-induced psychosis) were about 5x more likely to be diagnosed with dementia as those who did not abuse amphetamines or have amphetamine-induced psychosis.

This also begs the question- assuming amphetamine abuse is part of the issue, is it actually dementia (which could occur regardless of amphetamine abuse), or is it amphetamine-induced psychosis?

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week

😷 - Mask off, but guard up! Seems like we're out of the tunnel

1. Abandoned dog seen wandering Detroit streets with stuffed toy rescued, now receiving care

An abandoned dog is preparing for a new home after animal rescue groups spent days trying to find her when she was spotted wandering Detroit with a stuffed toy. Nikki's owner recently died, and she was left to wander the streets with her favorite toy. 

As Nikki receives her care, the animal workers are making sure she is ready to head to her foster home. Almost Home is collecting donations to help pay for the treatment and Niki's care. Donate here.

2. New foster care agency matching LGBTQ+ kids with queer carers to become ‘their amazing, wonderful selves’

A new foster care service has been launched to help match LGBTQ+ young people with supportive carers and families in the South East of England. Apex Q, a service from agency Apex Fostering, will help encourage more LGBTQ+ foster carers, provide training and create more placements for queer children.

Apex Fostering, which covers north and east London as well as several southern counties, including Hertfordshire, Essex and Cambridgeshire, launched in 2021 and claims to have already placed more than 60 young people with foster families. 

3. Newquay Zoo celebrates birth of rare 'warty' piglets

A pair of rare piglets has been born at Newquay Zoo in Cornwall. The Visayan warty pigs, named for the three pairs of fleshy "warts" on the boar's face, which protect it while fighting rival pigs, are part of a breeding programme at the zoo.

The species lives in the forests of the Philippines, where there could be as few as 200 animals left.

4. New Alzheimer's drug slows disease by a third

We could be entering the era of Alzheimer's treatments, after the second drug in under a year has been shown to slow the disease. Experts said we were now "on the cusp" of drugs being available, something that had recently seemed "impossible".

The company Eli Lilly has reported its drug - donanemab - slows the pace of Alzheimer's by about a third.

5. Covid global health emergency is over, WHO says

The World Health Organization (WHO) has declared that Covid-19 no longer represents a "global health emergency". The statement represents a major step towards ending the pandemic and comes three years after it first declared its highest level of alert over the virus.

But Dr Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus warned that the virus remained a significant threat.

6. Doctors have performed brain surgery on a fetus in one of the first operations of its kind

The baby’s condition, known as vein of Galen malformation, was first noticed during a routine ultrasound scan at 30 weeks of pregnancy. The seven-week-old is one of the first people to have undergone an experimental brain operation while still in the womb. It might have saved her life.

Before she was born, this little girl developed a dangerous condition that led blood to pool in a 14-millimeter-wide pocket in her brain. The condition could have resulted in brain damage, heart problems, and breathing difficulties after birth. It could have been fatal. The baby girl was born healthy. She didn’t need any treatment for the malformation.

7. Lastly, watch this father stork brings a blanket to warm up mother stork

----

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[icarusredwings]

Various head canons for my Saxteen/ Temple Noble household series.

As the board of headcanons, I declare these headcanons as offical.

Shout outs for the ideas or just being OGs:

@roxannepolice

@kidshows-are-life

@strobbiery

@the--quotifyer--innit

@huntersroses

Now- Onto the headcanons!

-Sylvia still gets nervous when the Doctor does weird shit and will often tell him off for it (which often backfires)

"why cant you be like that one? Sit quietly and stop catching the kitchen on fire!"

".....Him? You mean... The master?? You know he eats people right?"

".... Dont be like him then. I take it back."

-They take bubble baths together quite often

-Rosie has given Sax advice on which brands of make up to buy (vegan or cruelty free)

-Sometimes Wilf and Shaun witness a weekly ritual of donna, rosie, and two old gays doing face masks, nails, and other 'sleep over' things in the kitchen. They call it Gals night.

-When Shaun questions it even in the slightest, 14 responds with "Were all girls here."

"Even him?" *points to sax whos passed out cold with cucumbers on his eyes* "well not yet. But yes."

"Not yet??"

"Alien stuff hon. Alien stuff."

"Regenerative alien stuff to be exact!"

-Shaun was actually very excited when Rose came out because he had always wanted to be a girl dad. Sometimes, he asks her paint his nails and wishes that she was young enough to have tea parties with.

-This being mentioned leads to everyone in the house participating in the South France House Annual Tea Party (14 even gave out offical invitations) Everyone gets a boa and a crown. Saxons crown is not cheap plastic, though. It is real. He demanded it to be. Even wilf has on a pink boa in his wheel chair.

-The evening is filled with tiny sandwitches, tea of all kinds, donna talking about Agatha Christie, the time she almost got murdered by a massive bug, and 14 dosing his husband with catmint tea (which makes him very purry)

-Rosie sleeps with a bonnet. So does saxon. He thinks itll stop him from balding.

-When walking to the store, They hold each other. Depending on the day, it's the Master on the Doctors arm or vise versa. Sometimes, they'll hold pinkies. The Master HAS bitten someone for negativaly commenting about it

-The Doctor falls asleep on the loo sometimes

-Shaun is so madly in love with the new Donna and will sit and stare at her while asking math questions in utter awe. Hes OBSESSED with her, of course he loved her before but now its like meeting a newer, BRIGHTER, happier Donna and he constantly is taking her on dates, getting flustard, and is more handsy. This overall has improved their marriage (not that it was in any danger to begin with)

-When the two are being flirty and frisky in the kitchen, Rose will audibly say "GAG" and then walk away

-Wilfred is very happy to see his grand daughter shine, and you can find him repeating his favorite stories from when she was just a girl. It's part of his Alzheimer's.

-Wilfred sometimes forgets that the Doctor isn't actually his real son and will refer to him as his child when talking to people, and depending on who the person is, the doctor won't correct him.

-The Doctor is trying to grow his hair out to put them in braids. Unfortunately, he gets sneezy rosemary oil, so he uses a lot of castor oil and rose oils. (The Master thinks he stinks when he does this)

-The master suggests dying his greys but the Doctor refuses, wanting to be a "Silver fox"

-The master, to this day, uses the exact same box dye that he did all those years ago. His hair is fried, LMAO

-Rosie has made the master a stuffy called Shadow. Sylvia once got bitten for washing shadow, and the master sat at the door and watched her get washed the entire time, growling at donna, who in turn had learned to growl back.

-The Doctor proposed on Christmas and the master slapped him. They then proceeded to get married NEXT Christmas due to saxon demanding a custom traditional outfit to be made.

-Both have gained relationship weight, and Donna is the only one allowed to poke fun at them for it. "Not a pole anymore, I see, hmm?" She does not comment on saxons new small streach marks as that is blantantly rude. Wtf? Who does that? Not in this house.

-They take up the entire couch for naps. The doctor has told him multiple times that he likes his weight on top of him. "You're like a warm weighted blanket." And was then smothered with a pillow because saxon is insecure about it still.

-When meeting new people the Doctor keeps slipping that hes an alien. Hes said he wants the neighbors in France to not know hes an alien because hes curious about how people treat him differently compared to if they know or not.

The neighbors wanted help moving their sofa so the Doctor picked it up... the whole thing... by himself.

"Wow!! Its like you have super human strength!!"

"Aha- well... about that.. not human-"

"What?"

"Shit- honey I did it again!"

[dryococelas01]

I've been thinking lately about a particular character archetype that's been really emotionally resonating with me for a while. I've had trouble pinning down exactly why and thought if I rambled on a bit maybe that would help get my thoughts in order.

I'm gonna dub the archetype the Quixote, for reasons that will soon be obvious. Both of my examples are, funnily enough, created by games workshop.

Content warning for, I guess, severely altered states of mind, alzheimers/dementia, insanity, cannibalism and I'm not sure what else. This is a bit of a weird one to tag. I'll put mental illness as a tag even if its a fantasy mental illness rather than anything real.

So I'm gonna introduce the 2 examples first, so everyone's on the same page. They are Nemesor Zandrekh of warhammer 40k and the Flesh-Eater Courts of Age of Sigmar.

So quick Zandrekh crash course. He was part of a race called the necrontyr, they got forcibly uploaded into robot skeleton bodies by soul eating gods called the c'tan and got their souls eaten in the process, becoming the necron. In the process most of them lost all personality, with the nobility being allowed to keep between aspects and the whole of theirs. They then managed to turn on and kill the ctan, and went into a several millenia long sleep. Many of the ones who still had their personalities have odd quirks as a result of their uploads, the long sleep, too early wake ups etc.

Zandrekhs condition is that he does not see the world as it is. To him, his body is flesh and blood. The many aliens and armies he fights are necron rebels and separatists, the mindless robot armies he commands loyal troops.

He has a bodyguard, Oberyn. Oberyn takes care of him. He stands by as his Lord holds feasts of rotten food for prisoners of war he regards as enemy ambassadors, watches his lord attempt to shove food into the flat metal grin where his mouth was. If one of these PoWs or a noble under zandrekh, sick of his nonsense, tried to deal with Zandrekh, Oberyn deals with them.

He stands by him until the end. He knew and loved his lord before they were machines, and he does so now.

(Quick note: some people interpret this as romantic love. I don't but I can see why. To me I have strong recent memories of my dad and me taking care of my grandma whos mind has aged, and that's how I see it. We do explicitly as of the novel Severed have obyron describing it as love). (Second quick note: these 2 are explicitly based on Don quixote and Sancho, one of Zandrekhs old abilities was called something like tilting at solar mills)

That's your crash course on Z. Now the Flesh Eater Courts.

The FSC ars a faction of flesh eating undead ghouls. They are withered and rotten, riding giant bats and undead dragons into battle, devouring the flesh of soldier and citizen alike.

But much like Zandrekh, that's not how they see things. They have a form of infectious delusion.

They are Noble knights. The giant bats are magnificent pegasi, the zombie dragon is alive and majestic, their barren wastelands beautiful and fertile, the hordes of ravenous ghouls the loyal citizenry at their command.

When they invade a civilian village, tearing at their flesh, devouring young and old alike, that's not how they see it. They see a goblin warcamp, a chaos cult hideout, a Necromancers castle. They ride in on their noble steeds, their loyal armies at their back, and save the day. And after? They have a grand feast, peasant and knight feasting side by side on rich and expensive meats.

You get the idea

This archetype so interests me for so many reasons.

Lets start with them as a moral question.

Is The Ghoul Evil? The ghouls have taken part in the butchery of innocents, the slaughter of villages and destruction of homes. They've eaten people and serve the whims of a far less deluded master.

But they don't see it that way. Not only that but they are incapable of seeing it any other way, their senses and minds completely in thrall.

There are plenty of people who do horrible things and see their actions as good, but they have the capability to be different. A violent white nationalist will no doubt say everything they are doing is for some greater good, but they have the capacity to change, they can be something that isn't a voilent white nationalist and there is evidence in the world around them that their views are wrong and abominable.

The ghouls cannot not be ghouls, they can't see the evidence in the world around them.

They can't see their rotten fraying flesh, their sharp teeth. They can't see the farmer they killed, they taste delicious chicken instead of human flesh, drink wine not blood.

They are Noble heroes to their eyes. And there's no way for them to know otherwise. They are doing good, to their eyes.

So is the ghoul evil? I don't think so. Their acts are evil acts, but there is no evil intent to them.

It's a very interesting moral question to me. I'm curious on your thoughts, if anyone sees this.

When the veil lifts.

Nate crowley recently wrote a novella about zandrekh called Severed, from the perspective of obyron. In it he based zandrekh on his experience of a relative with, and I can't remember which, alzheimers or dementia (hence the / in the content warnings).

There is an amazing moment, at one point, that I'm just gonna quote.

So obligatory, spoiler for the novella Severed.

__________________

‘Well fought, old friend,’ said Zahndrekh, with companionable warmth. ‘You really ought to have rested more, but we need to leave. I must commend your rather… straightforward method of dealing with the sorcerer’s engine, and it very much appears to have done the trick. Doahht has gone off like a light, and its legions with it. But without the engine, I fear the stability of the planet itself won’t last, so we’d be much better off in orbit. Are you ready for a short jaunt up to the Horaktys?’

Obyron nearly said yes, but then he remembered the engine’s true purpose. Or what it might have been – it was so hard to recall now.

‘But… our souls, Zahndrekh. The machine… it could give us our souls back. It could give us our bodies. Please, lord, let’s at least take part of it with us, so we can know for sure.’

‘Oh, dear vargard, why do you hold on to such things? You must let the thought of this awful contraption go.’ Zahndrekh put an arm round him in consolation, and continued.

‘Let me pose you this thought, Obyron, in the hope it will bring you ease. What do you think caused you to hold true to me for all this time despite all the power you might have enjoyed through betrayal if it were not a soul? What can love, but a being with a soul?

‘Even if we all ceased to be flesh and blood millions of years ago, which of course I don’t be-lieve for a moment,’ – Zahndrekh actually winked – ‘wouldn’t it have suited us better to live in denial of that, as some fools might say I had done? Wouldn’t it be better, Obyron, just to accept our fate, and enjoy immortality for the everlasting life of merry campaigning it has proved to be?’

Obyron stared hard at Zahndrekh, unsure of what he was hearing.

‘You old bastard. You knew all along.’

‘I knew nothing of the sort, old friend. But since you seem to be labouring under some delusion that you’re a soulless machine, I thought I should at least make some attempt to set you straight.’ Zahndrekh stood up then, and patted his thigh for Obyron to join him. ‘Come now, soldier. Up on your feet, and let’s return to the flagship. If we’re quick about it, we can have this all cleared up in time for a truly astonishing feast.’

Obyron, ever loyal, obeyed his lord. He would have wept, but he had no tears.

__________________

With the authors statement I'd say this is a moment of clarity, not zandrekh having known all along as Obyron imagines. I've seen grandma having many similar ones.

Zandrekh sometimes sees the horrifying reality he lives in, sometimes the fog lifts. And he prefers the fog. There's a lot more to pick apart from that quote but that's what I want to focus on.

Age of Sigmar has a trpg called soulbound, in which you can play a ghoul. If I ever find a play group I will.

Imagine a scenario, out adventuring team has just butchered a village. The ghoul is huddled on the ground, lifting the arm of a murdered young man who tried to defend his home, ready to eat it.

For a moment, the veil lifts. The noble Knight, defender of his people looks around him.

His good freind, the hedge mage, is raising an undead abomination out of murdered civilians. The noble Knight he rode besides has lined up survivors and is draining them of their blood. The beautiful noble lady he traveled with and hoped to court has no flesh, she's a vengeful spirit.

He sees his claws, and sees what he's eating.

Imagine the horror that sets in in that moment.

He doesn't know if he's seeing the truth, or if he's gone mad. If it's the truth then he knows he's a monster, his friends terrors, the people he saved flesh eating ghouls and the people he killed innocent civilians. If its not the truth, then he's gone mad, he's being tormented by some daemon or spirit, he's cursed.

Now, the veil would likely fall shortly after and he'd forget that moment of horror, but let's say it doesn't.

Let's say our noble Knight has a choice. He knows the truth of the matter, and can choose between the veil falling again or staying lifted.

Does he choose to keep it lifted?

I like to imagine I would, that I'd accept the guilt and horror of my existence and past actions and try to be a force for good.

I know that I wouldn't. I would accept the delusion, because fundamentally the horror of what I am and have done would be too much. Reality would break me, so I would retreat and allow the delusion to take me.

I'd like to imagine my noble knight would stand up and become a force for good, redeem himself. He is a noble knight, after all.

Zandrekh sometimes sees past the veil, but keeps acting like he doesn't because the veil is preferable to reality.

It makes a wonderful character moment, something beautiful and tragic beyond my words.

Whenever I think of these moments the veil lifts something in me cries. There's something so tragic about, in the case of the ghouls, someone that is noble, is trying to do good, but is incapable of. Something sad but strangely beautiful about zandrekh choosing to retreat into joy and fantasy rather than face reality.

I don't know how to put it, it just touches something in me.

I don't know, there's a lot more I want to say but I can't figure out how to say it. Hope my rambles were at least interesting.

[nrilliree]

https://www.tumblr.com/dreaming-of-the-reality/746890557891198976/rhaenyra-my-only-child?source=share

Hope you enjoy reading this...

Well anyways, I'm not defending Viserys, but you can't just expect him to not have kids or to marry a woman close to his age, I think you can count with one hand the amount of women from that century who married someone close to their age

Is the (probably) 12th century my love, at 21 women were considered dry and unmarriable

And also again, he had dementia???? And the comments just "well he didn't have enough dementia to forget about Rhaenyra" and it's like dude that's the point of dementia, they forget the newest memories and remember the oldest ones and guess what? Rhaenyra is like 18 years older than her younger siblings

Okay…Viserys was a bad father to EACH of his children and a lousy husband. Everyone knows that. We established this a long time ago. But if you're going to complain about him, people, do it with sense and truth…

Okay, I'll have some fun and detect the untruth and hypocrisy in @dreaming-of-the-reality's post

1) Viserys was not an "old creep of a man" when he married Aemma. He was five years older than her and he married her because he was ordered to do so. Just like Alicent ordered Aegon to marry 13-year-old Helaena when he was 15. Does that make him an "old creep of a man"? Viserys didn't beg his father to let him marry an 11-year-old. The king ordered, the father ordered - Viserys did it. However, his mistake, for which he is responsible, was that he listened and consummated the marriage when Aemma was 13… Right when Aegon consummated his marriage with Helaena. Where's the "fuck Aegon and Alicent" post?

2) "willing to sacrifice his wife for him" Another untruth. Yes, Viserys is a piece of shit because he ordered Aemma to be cut open without even the slightest thought of asking her opinion, giving her poppy milk - whatever. But he didn't sacrifice Aemma's life. She was dying. She and the baby would die. However, the maester said that the child has a chance to survive, Aemma does not. No matter what Viserys would do.

3) "nor paid attention to any of them while growing up" Another untruth! In the series, we see Viserys interacting with young Aegon several times (during his birthday, we see him with him three times in three different scenes), and later we see that he watched their training, knew that Aegon had tricked his nephews into bullying Aegon, and knows that Aemond believed the untruth again and was too gullible for his age. The fact that Viserys at that time no longer had fingers or an arm, was coughing up blood, could barely walk and had memory loss shows that he had little ability to take care of his children… And guess what? Alicent didn't raise her children alone. She had nannies, wet nurses and servants for this. She was a queen, not a washerwoman.

4) “Rhaenyra… my ONLY child” You know what? I really hope that people who write posts like this don't have sick people around them. Neither sick parents nor sick grandparents. Because they would probably get offended and leave, slamming the door at the first mistake of a name or forgetting a fact. My grandmother was terminally ill (it wasn't even Alzheimer's) and for a long time she thought my sister-in-law was me, and when she looked at me she had no idea who I was. And she had much better care than Viserys, who was high on poppy milk.

5) "Don't have more than one child if your not capable of loving more than one. Even better: don't force two woman to carry your children if your only going to love one…" A great plan for a king. That no one thought of it! Oh no, wait… Do you know why? Viserys had one child. Rhaenyra. In ten years, Rhaenyra dies - falls off a horse, gives birth, is poisoned… Whatever. And now the end of House Targaryen has come, because Viserys is too old and too sick to father a child, and his only heir has died.

[shelbystales]

Best Aid - Part Five

Modern Tommy Shelby x Reader - Masterlist

Previous parts: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Summary: you are a young doctor in Birmingham. After a crazy incident, Thomas Shelby shows up at your hospital. You don’t know much about the man everyone seems to fear, but you definitely will.

Warning: swearing,

A/N:  Comment and interact, tell me what you think! it means a looot thank you very much. Tell me if you ant me to tone down the medical stuff.

English is my second language so I apologize in advance for the grammar mistakes.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You were on your way to your brother's house to pick up your mom. You managed to buy a car, not with the help of insurance, of course.

"Hey, momma," you greeted her with open arms as she walked out the door with your brother, "how you doin'?" you asked, hugging her.

"Good, my love," she replied with a smile. She seemed well, with rosy cheeks and wearing a cute blue floral dress.

"What's up?" you greeted your brother with a hug, "how's everything?"

"All good. She's feeling a bit fancy today. Keeps insisting she's going on a date," he shrugged, and you smiled.

"Cute. I'll bring her back in the late afternoon, alright?" you asked, and he nodded.

You and your brother aren't super close. You get along well, but you're not best friends. In fact, you're not very close to any of your siblings. Over the years, you've all gone your separate ways, naturally growing apart. It's just the way life goes if you don't make an effort.

You took your mom for a coffee at the botanical garden and took a stroll with her. She delighted in a pistachio ice cream and was enchanted by the thousands of different flowers.

She seemed to be in good spirits, with some minor memory lapses, occasionally asking where this beautiful place was, but nothing too concerning. Nothing that indicated her Alzheimer's condition was worsening. she was at the beginning of the disease, you and your siblings discovered her alzeimer less than six months ago. You quickly pulled some strings and put her on an innovative treatment at your hospital that promised to delay the effects a little. So far it seemed to work, the disease was progressing slowly.

You both sat on a bench near an artificial pond teeming with fish. You picked up some seeds from the ground and handed them to your mom to throw into the water. Each seed hitting the water and capturing the attention of the fish brought a joyful laugh from her.

Something people don't talk about much is how some elderly folks, at a certain point, become reminiscent of children. They start to live a lighter, happier, and carefree life.

"How's your life, daughter?" she surprised you with her question.

"Good," you smiled.

"When are you gonna introduce me to that boyfriend of yours?" she asked, making you laugh.

"What boyfriend?" you asked, and she didn't respond. She gazed into the horizon as if searching for the answer, but it wasn't in sight. To avoid her getting frustrated, you changed the subject, "You know, there's a guy I thought might be interesting to pursue, but I've changed my mind, Mom. Too much work," you chuckled.

"Oh yeah. Love truly is a job. It takes time and a lot of effort," she spoke, returning to her normal tone as if nothing had happened.

"I know, I don't think I'm ready for that," you said, and she smiled at you.

"We're never really ready. And that's why it's so good. Imagine being ready for everything. Life would be so monotonous... so boring," her words made more sense to you than ever.

"Momma, you're so wise, you know that?" you smiled and hugged her affectionately “I love you”

“I love you too, honey,” she said giving light taps on your back.

During lunchtime, you took her to her favorite restaurant, not that she remembered that detail. After lunch, you headed to your house, and she comfortably dozed off on your bed while watching a soap opera, Ozzy sleeping snuggled at her feet. He liked her.

Taking advantage of her nap, you grabbed your patient records and began reviewing the files of the patients scheduled for your upcoming shift, as usual.

On the other side of town, Thomas was deeply immersed in the battle against the Italian mob.

He had found himself entangled in a war that seemed to have no end in sight.

Thomas Shelby, was known for his cunning tactics and unyielding determination, and he knew how to navigate a world where loyalties shifted like sand and trust was a rare commodity.

The Italian mob, equally fierce and calculating, was proving to be a formidable adversary. One that he should fear since they had no limits.

Just this week they tried a deathly attack on his younger brother John. That didn’t go well for the mob. John pulled a Houdini act and got out of dodge. Giving Thomas a small win or rather not giving a loss.

Now Thomas had to think about his next moves, but the only thing in his head was you and your fucking safety. He had put two men to watch you at every hour, 24/7. If you ate a fly he would know, if you hiccuped he would know.

He didn’t want you to pay for his mistake. He couldn’t have that.

But there was something more to it, something more to you that he couldn’t quite understand yet. In the middle of all the chaos in his life, you felt like a piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit. And it was driving him nuts.

"Tommy," Arthur asked, stepping into his brother's office. "We're ready," he said. Tommy nodded and got up to follow his brother to the meeting room, where they were about to have a family meeting.

"Glad to see you in one piece, brother," Tommy said, embracing John.

"Me too," John replied with a smile.

"Alright," Tommy said, taking a seat. "We need to establish a few things today. First off, personal security. Everyone's already got bodyguards, I made sure of that. Don't worry, they're paid not to be seen. Also, don't leave the house without letting someone know. You can either message the family group or someone directly. The Changrettas aren't messing around, and they want our blood."

"And whose fault is that?" Polly asked confrontationally.

"You really want to go there?" Thomas asked seriously. "Because as far as I know, the death of his father worked out pretty well for you, Poll."

"It had to happen," Arthur chimed in with the facts.

The feud between the Shelbys and the Changrettas had been brewing for a long time. They were at each other's throats over territory last year, though it hadn't yet turned into an all-out war. The Changretta patriarch had been growing more brazen and greedy, pushing boundaries with each passing day.

Polly owns a five-star hotel in the city center, and on numerous occasions, he would get drunk and create scenes in the hotel lobby. And it often got to the papers and her clientele would drop like crazy for the following weeks. His fixation on her, driven by an unreciprocated affection, only intensified the animosity

Last year's territorial dispute had been a warning sign, a foreshadowing of the chaos that was about to unfold. The Changretta patriarch's audacity had only fueled the fire

But the breaking point came when he attempted to assault Lizzie, Thomas's assistant. Yes, she used to be a prostitute in the past, but that doesn't give any man the right to violate her. Besides, Lizzie has been Thomas's steady affair for years.

Polly crossed her arms defensively. "I'm not saying I'm sorry for what happened. But it could have gone another way," she retorted, her voice sharp.

"It hasn’t, Poll," Tommy replied evenly. “ We need to stay focused on what's happening now. The Changrettas are out for revenge, and they won't stop until they think they've settled the score."

"Right," Ada chimed in, her tone serious. "So what's the plan, Tommy?"

Tommy leaned back in his chair, contemplating. "We hit 'em where it hurts. We disrupt their operations, cut off their resources.”

Arthur leaned forward, his expression determined. "And we make it clear that they'll regret messing with us. We won't back down."

“How do you plan on doing that?” Polly asked, armed crossed

“We need allies” he answered

Back at your home, your mother's nap ended, and she woke up with a contented smile. You put aside your work and joined her in watching the remainder of the soap opera.

As the afternoon turned into evening, you prepared to take her back to your brother's place.

As you were dropping her off, you were invited to have dinner at your brother's house. His wife is a kind and easygoing person, sometimes even more so than he is. Spending time with them was pleasant, a change from your routine as a single woman living alone and having solitary dinners with your cat.

When you finally got home, you noticed your apartment door was open. For a brief moment, you wondered if you could have left it that way, but the voice in your head quickly dismissed that thought.

Without any desire to find out if someone was still inside, you turned on your heels and dashed back to your car. The only thing in your mind being the safety of your cat.

Doing what any normal person would, you called the police.

You quickly dialed the police and explained the situation, your heart pounding as you waited for their response. They assured you they would send officers over right away.

Standing by your car, you felt a mix of anxiety and fear, wondering what you might find inside your apartment.

Within minutes, the sound of sirens grew louder, and two police officers arrived at the scene. You explained the situation to them, your voice shaky with apprehension. They assured you that they would thoroughly check your apartment and asked you to stay outside.

As you watched them enter your apartment building, you felt a sense of unease wash over you. Moments later, they returned, confirming that there was no one inside, however, they said it seemed someone had broken in. All your things were out of place.

They said they would get the security camera's videos and find the person behind this. And they insisted you slept somewhere else.

You went back to your apartment to gather a few stuff and find Ozzy. When you walked in you were startled. Drawers were pulled open, belongings strewn across the floor, and the place that was once your sanctuary now felt like a violated space. Your pulse quickened as you realized someone had been inside, rummaging through your personal belongings.

After some searching, you found Ozzy under your stove, the poor thing was terrified.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself and ignore the rising panic. The police assured you that they would investigate the break-in thoroughly and advised you not to touch anything until they had collected evidence. "Just get what you need and leave the scene," the offcier said

Feeling a mixture of anger and vulnerability, you sat down and took it all in. You had no place to go. Yes, you could go to your brothers, but it felt like an intrusion. Feeling backed into a corner, you decided to rent a hotel room right next to the hospital. The hotel was cheap, but they had security 24/7 and cameras, which was enough for you at the moment.

The following day was intense. You had to do your rounds at the hospital but every step you took felt like you were being watched, and a sense of paranoia began to settle in. No matter where you went, the feeling of being pursued was constant, leaving you on edge.

You questioned yourself, doubting if you were blowing things out of proportion, letting the break-in get under your skin more than you should. Yet, every time you glanced over your shoulder or felt a shiver down your spine, you couldn't shake the certainty that someone was lurking out there, hidden in the shadows. It was a persistent feeling, like an itch you couldn't scratch.

As you carried on with your hospital tasks, the unease clung to you. It was as if a chunk of your normal life had been snatched away, stolen along with your peace of mind. And in your frustration, you couldn't help but lay the blame on someone: that man with those gorgeous striking sea-blue eyes. Fucking Thomas Shelby.

You cursed his name under your breath, feeling a mixture of resentment and a strange connection you couldn't quite explain. Whether or not he was truly involved, his presence had thrown your life into turmoil, first your car and now your apartment.

"Hey girl, you okay?" Jeremy asked concern etched on his face.

"Yeah, just a bit tired. A little paranoid," you replied, and he chuckled.

"Aren't we all?" he questioned, making you smile.

Jeremy had quickly become one of the most important people in your life. Your friendship was so genuine and light, something that brought you immense comfort. All you wanted was to spill the beans about what had been happening, but was it a good idea?

You soldiered on with your day and tasks, doing your best not to dwell on your life outside the hospital. By the end of the day, you felt so drained that it was as if you had worked three days straight. The truth is, when your mind is on high alert, when anxiety takes over, both your mind and body bear the brunt.

As you arrived at your hotel room and swung the door open, a man's figure seated at the foot of your bed met your eyes. With a scream, you instinctively recoiled, slamming the door shut with force. All you wanted was to run out of there, but before you could, the door swung open, revealing that the man was none other than Thomas himself.

"Fuck!" you exclaimed, pushing the door and, consequently, him. "You're gonna give me a heart attack!"

Thomas rubbed his chest, probably where you had nudged him. "You can be a real charmer, you know that?"

"Charm's not exactly my priority right now," you retorted, still reeling from the shock. Your heart is still beating a million times per second.

"What do you want?" you asked impatiently.

"Just checking up on you," he replied calmly.

"I'm great, can't you tell? Life's just great," you retorted with heavy sarcasm, slumping tiredly onto your hotel bed.

"Why didn't you tell me that someone broke into your place?" he inquired.

"Because you're the bloody reason it happened in the first place! Did that knock on the head mess up your brains? I want nothing to do with you," you stated firmly, frustration lacing your words.

"Look, I know you're angry," he began, his tone softer now. "But I'm worried about your safety. If you're being targeted, you might not be safe here. I can offer you a place to stay, at my aunt's hotel. It's secure, and you can stay there for as long as you need. No strings attached."

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his unexpected offer. "I appreciate the concern," you said, your voice guarded. "But I'll figure things out on my own. I don't need your help."

He sighed his expression a mix of frustration and concern. "You're stubborn as hell, you know that?"

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Look, y/n. I’m not taking no for an answer. You are not safe here. It’s a fact” he said

“And why do you care?” You asked, surprised to see Ozzy climbing on top of the bed and snuggling up to you. He usually hides when people are near.

Thomas hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering between you and the cat nestled against you.

"Because I've seen what happens when someone underestimates danger," he admitted, his tone softer now. "I've lost people I cared about, and I won't let that happen again if I can help it."

You were taken aback by his candid response, his vulnerability catching you off guard. It was a glimpse into a side of him you hadn't expected. As you looked at him, his expression held a mix of genuine concern and something deeper, a hint of regret perhaps.

"You can't control everything, Thomas," you replied softly, your fingers still brushing over Ozzy's fur.

He nodded, a rueful smile touching his lips. "I know. But that doesn't mean I won't try." he took a deep breath "If not for you, then do it for the cat. He deserves safety," he said, making you chuckle.

"Low blow," you quipped, stealing a small smirk from him.

"I won't bother you. In fact, if it's what you want, I will stay as far away as I possibly can. Just please accept it," he insisted, his tone earnest.

After some thought, you eventually nodded. "I don't want to see your face."

"You won't," he replied, his voice firm as if making a promise.

“Okey” you said giving in

Unbeknownst to you, Tommy struggled to suppress his own desires. While you were seated on the hotel bed, he fought the intense urge to sweep you into his arms. To just throw you on the bed and fuck you senseless. But he knew he needed to respect your boundaries, to earn your trust before making any advances.

After your last encounter with him, he noticed he skipped a few steps. He made you terrified. He made you fear for your life, and according to you, that was the reason you kissed him. And that was not something he wanted. He wanted you to desire him as much as he did you right now.

Your current vulnerability only heightened his need to keep you safe above all else, above all his wishes, holding back his desires for a future moment when you'd be ready for him.

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[drdemonprince]

Every year, in fairness to those who have a difficult time enjoying the holidays as much as I do, I have an Annual Christmas Cry. All is not perfect! This usually happens early in December as I am preparing the condo with my holiday decorations. I cry for those who have died and whom I miss. I cry especially for my husband Gregory who died eight years ago due to the complications of Dementia/Alzheimer’s Disease. We celebrated over 41 Christmases together, so you can imagine how hard his death has been! But by now besides celebrating a little with others, I enjoy the solitude of the holiday and the fond memories we shared. I cry for other family members and friends who, over the years, have played important roles in my life and are now gone. I cry for missed opportunities with family and friends. I cry for the changes in myself that at times create new obstacles in my day to day life (read this as aging).

On Christmas Eve and Day and for New Year’s Eve and Day, I prefer a quiet, solitude of experience, home alone. I spend the time with my memories of Christmas Past, which has become my Christmas Present, especially since my husband, Gregory RIP, is no longer physically present to spend them with me. I enjoy being with his Spirit, surrounded by the decorations and foods we used to eat when he was still here. When he first died, I did find this very difficult but by now I am able to carry the grief on one shoulder along with carrying the joy on the other. Just because he is gone is no reason for me to allow myself to wallow in depression, neglect the wonderful times and memories we had, and not allow me to enjoy myself and the holidays today.

Adding to my joy, I am not sure when the “Santa Sightings” began but they have continued for a number of years. For some reason family, friends, and strangers on the street think I look a lot like Santa Claus. I am honored by this identification of me by others. It may have to do with the fact that I let my silver/white beard and hair grow long beginning October, running through the beginning of January.

I will be walking down the street and young children see me, tug at their parent’s coat, and ask, “Did you see that man. I think he is Santa.” Living in a college town (Northwestern University in Evanston, Il), I have had young women shout at me across the parking lot, “Santa, we love you!” Just yesterday, walking down the street, an older couple announced to no-one in particular both at the same time as they passed me, “Hey Santa, we’ve been good!” A few times I donned a Santa outfit and did some appearances at charitable events. Other times, in my street clothing, people will ask after acknowledging that I look like him, “Do you ever play Santa?” I respond, “What do you mean play?” I am greatly honored that people give me the opportunity of carrying Santa Claus’s love, to those around me, friends or strangers.

An absolutely lovely read.

[betterthanapokeintheeye]

The Pratchett Project - Terry Pratchett at the Unseen University

[Event News]

The Pratchett Project - Terry Pratchett at the Unseen University

Location: Trinity Long Room Hub, College Green Dublin 2 Ireland

Date: Fri, 22 Sep 2023 18:00 - 22:00 IST

The Pratchett Project in Trinity College Dublin is an interdisciplinary platform for research into the life and works of Terry Pratchett. It builds on the comprehensive collection of Pratchett’s works and their translations into forty languages, held in the Trinity College Library, as well as Pratchett’s personal connection with the College, borne out of the adjunct professorship he held from 2010.

A further part of this endeavour is driven by Pratchett’s own life story and inclinations. In 2007, Pratchett publicly announced that he had a rare form of young-onset Alzheimer’s disease, called posterior cortical atrophy. He subsequently became a passionate campaigner who was determined to reduce the stigma of dementia. A docudrama on BBC followed the literary career and charitable work of the beloved author.

So, research into brain health is an important part of the Pratchett Project in Trinity College. The Pratchett Project are currently developing this strand of the project to find new ways in which the implications of breakthroughs in research can be “translated” for members of the public. They aim to bring people together from various backgrounds and fields to make new connections, to promote public understanding and awareness, to change perceptions and inspire people to support brain awareness campaigns and get involved.

This Culture Night, they will be joined by a wide range of speakers, each discussing their research, which is in some way connected to the life and/or work of Terry Pratchett.

THIS EVENT CAN BE ATTENDED BOTH ONLINE AND IN PERSON.

It will also be recorded and uploaded to their youtube channel.

Tickets are available through eventbrite.