So, there’s a lot going on with my family and arguably, my godfather should not have been left alone long enough to make the funeral arrangements for my godmother given his advancing dementia, but the drama over me not being able to go to my godmother’s funeral in Scotland has been rendered null and void because there won’t be a funeral.
My godfather, in an apparent pique of lucidity took one look at everyone fighting over everything (and I do mean everything, not just me) and went “okay,” and arranged for a private cremation while his sister (his current caretaker following my godmother’s death) went out for a walk. It’s done. Sorted. Nothing anyone can do about it.
And while a lot of people are now angry about this because they wanted a funeral, they also understand it’s a dick move to be mad at a newly grieving widower with dementia so everyone’s just having to deal with it.
And all I can picture in my mind’s eye is the wily old man with the dry smile who used to slip me a ten pound note on weekends so I could escape for a few hours while he stayed behind to referee the madness.
If Bruce ever went senile I think the batkids would refuse to let a caretaker look after him. I do think Damian might suggest it, not because he trusts a stranger with Bruce but because he feels incapable of taking care of him. Jason and Cass would be the number one people taking care of him though.
Jason, every day: Hi Dad.
Bruce: Jaylad! There you are, do you want me to read you Pride and Prejudice like I said I would.
I'm sure that I'm far from the the first person to notice that this line in Wintersmith (2006) was published just a year before Pratchett's 2007 announcement of his posterior cortical atrophy diagnosis.
Out of nowhere, Roland, a boy who in this book also happened to acquire specific additional traits like glasses and a love of books, suddenly has a deep, angry hatred of anything which takes memories.
The above line hit me like a damn train, and then I skipped back and reread the sequence as Roland and the Feegles arrived and realised that the Underworld Roland is in is filled with confused old people being parasitised by 'bogles' which steal their memories and identities. It's not remotely subtle but also heartbreaking in how understated it is. The strangeness of the woman dragging a cardboard box is nightmarish. This is actual horror.
Terry. Oh my god. Sir. This is one of your children's books and you brought this here. You brought this here because you trusted and respected your young readers with something so hard and personal. This is Terry writing down his deepest fear, in a children's story, the safest place to put the most frightening things you can think of.
And this sequence doesn't have a lot to do with the climax of Wintersmith where it's found. The monsters in the Underworld could have been anything at all. I was expecting stuff from the Dungeon Dimensions, not the most personal expression of vulnerability I have read in any Discworld book yet. It didn't need to be here, but Terry needed to write it. Good god. I'm going to have a little cry about this.
Feeling a little evil, angsty, and kind of inspired by this post.
Lilia Vanrouge + Memory loss + Diasomnia and you.
Lilia, who due to old age, starts to lose his memory.
Malleus: Lilia would walk around looking for Malleus and calling his name. Malleus would go to him each time. When his memory gets worse, he would mention a egg. How he wants to protect it.
He needed to hatch it. Malleus would hold his hand and tell him, he did. He did so much more than just that egg. He brought more joy and love than anyone can imagine to that egg. Lilia would smile serenely at him and rest against his shoulder, humming a lullaby.
Silver: He would catch Lilia restless at times. As if looking for something. When Silver asks him what he’s looking for. Lilia would say he’s looking for a baby. The babe was just there a few minutes ago and he can’t find him. Silver reassure him that the baby was fine.
He was with some family friends. Lilia looks so relieved that tears would come to Silver’s eyes. His father loved him so even now. Silver would ask if his father would like to play some video games with him.
Sebek: Lilia would tease Sebek, something that never really changes. Lilia would recount stories of the little young and loud boy to Sebek, as if he wasn’t sitting in front of him. At times, though, Lilia would tell him how similar he looks to Baul and how it’s amazing for there to be a half-fae and half human now. Sebek would proudly claim his heritage, smile wobbling at how happy that made Lilia.
You: Lilia had once said that long goodbyes are painful. Looking at him now, those words rang true, but even so; you made a vow to him. To love him in sickness and in health. Eternally. You love him and that would never change.
Lilia would tell you stories. Stories about how he fell in love. How he didn’t think he would ever love romantically. But he did. He fell hard. He’s so lucky to have married them. They brightened his world just like his boys have.
He wishes they knew that too. You would clasp his hand in yours. Telling him without a doubt. They always will love him no matter what. Lilia would cup your cheeks and whispers “I love you.” during those moments as if it was the day of your vows.
….the angst thoughts won this time 😔💔 blame the hormones 😭😔 yes, I’m sad too thinking about this 😭😭💔💔
On a positive note, bats tend to have good long term memory. So, I hope that comforts you a bit 💞💞🙏🙏
Bats do lose their hearing over time as a normal aging process like humans do too…which gives me many many thoughts 👀✍️
if one more of y’all sends me an angsty ask about Alfred forgetting stuff/having dementia and mistaking Bruce for Thomas, I’m going to fucking lose it 😭😭😭 any time Alfred accidentally confuses himself and calls Bruce “Thomas” in a fic I have to chuck my phone across the room and lay down on the floor for at least ten minutes.
Is Shamura training martial arts after being taken into Lamb's cult? If they enjoyed complexity and bloodshed of war than it'd be probably dissapointing for them if they had to... drop it all
Full under the cut because this turned out really long
Upon joining the cult Shamura was a shell of their former self. They join the cult dissenting, the long term effects of the crown still clawing at the edges of their mind, but after a few days they’re mortal, just themself. Without the crown to hold them together they suffer like their injury was yesterday.
The Lamb has the doctor, Puar, perform their usual tests on them. Shamura is hardly there. They don’t know their own name, can hardly speak, can’t stand or track movement.
There was no wisdom in their slurred words. No power in the way their hands shook.
The outlook is bad.
The Lamb doesn’t really want to help them, after everything, why should they. Shamura who had The Lamb’s entire race and family killed, who killed them aswell and countless of their followers. It would cost them so much, to try and help someone who spent so long just trying to destroy them and everything they had. The time, energy, resources it would cost and they didn’t even know if they could get better.
Deciding it wasn’t worth it was one thing, but getting the other ex bishops to understand was a whole other, even the doctor disagreed with them.
Dr Puar took on being their primary caregiver. They’d been a doctor for the past hundred years and seen concussions and dementia but nothing nearly as severe as this. They wanted to help Shamura but didn’t know how.
It wasn’t until Narinder joined the cult that The Lamb saw any reason to help Shamura. But there was something wrong with him and Shamura knew something, they just had to get to it.
Kallamar was the ex bishop Puar wanted the help from the most. He was scared of the lamb and red crown but he loved Shamura more.
The Lamb took Puar and Kallamar to the ruins of the temples in Anchordeep and Silk Cradle. They spent days digging through the decimated remains of the libraries for something, anything on this type of injury.
It seemed that they where looking down possible years of intense recovery. Needed herbs and medicines that may no longer exist, techniques Puar had never heard of. But they would try.
Puar took careful and detailed notes. Timed Shamura’s responses, wrote down everything they said, tracked eating, drinking, sleeping and every symptom they displayed. Improvements where slow and sometimes nonexistent at first. They took full minutes to respond and only in single words, barley moved, couldn’t feed themselves and suffered constant migraines.
The one thing that seemed to help them the most was their siblings. They didn’t remember them most days but every time one of they came to check in it raised their spirits. One of their faces was the only thing they could focus on sometimes.
Kallamar insisted he wasn’t a doctor but still worked around the infirmary, helping Shamura was the only thing he’d do without complaining. Heket spent hours sitting in silence with them, brought them food and flowers and changed their bandages. Leshy was the only thing that could get them to smile and they where the only person he would ever lower his voice for, he told them stories even though they hardly listened.
Improvements brought new challenges. They got better at speaking full sentences and following conversations but it revealed how fractured their memory was. Forgetting names, places and important events, how often they forgot where they where, they asked the same questions over and over again.
They complained of seeing and hearing things, phantom pains with seemingly no rhyme or reason. The sun hurt their eyes, rain gave them headaches, always sleeping but always tired. They would suddenly backslide constantly. One day could walk with minimal help and the next, couldn’t even hold a pen in their hand. Have a full conversation one day and hardly spit out their name tomorrow.
Until the day Puar looked Shamura in the eye and for once they saw him. Didn’t look past them with their blank stare but looked at them. They would ask to sit outside at night in the fresh air. They seemed to know now who they are, what they where, what they lost. A tinge of grief in their words.
Improvements brought frustration. On days they remembered who they where they were overcome with a mix of anger, guilt and despair. They where a god. They had bore down on armies, killed men with a twitch of a finger, brought other gods to their knees, and now they could hardly bring a cup to their mouth.
Emotionally, their siblings said they’d never seen them like this before. Before Shamura could be frustrated but their temper was cold and quiet. Now they wore a short fuse and suffered constant mood swings. It angered them that they couldn’t read, that their hands were numb, that they couldn’t walk without a cane, couldn’t go out in the sun, couldn’t string a full sentence together, couldn’t recognize their siblings faces, couldn’t feed themselves, couldn’t sleep without drugs, everything they lacked and lost wore them down.
Regardless, they where unusually steadfast. They would always pick back up. If they got frustrated they would try again in a few days. They tried anything Puar asked of them, anything for the smallest iota of improvement.
The outlook was better.
—————
This got out of control and took me like three days between the art and write up. I got really excited when I saw this ask cause the answer is so devastating. If I was taking Narinder’s trauma seriously I’m not gonna just ignore Shamura’s traumatic brain injury.
As a side note, I’m very unsure how to write the medical stuff, my guess is that cotl is based around 1300’s-1700’s but that’s a wide net to cast. My excuse for the stronger understanding of medicine and trauma is magic.
[There is a beep, signifying the beginning of an audio recording.]
“Hey! I'm Sonic! Sonic the Hedgehog! But, uh, you could probably guess that.”
“HEDGEHOG! I require more food! IMMEDIATELY!”
“... Aaaaand, uh, that's Eggman. Or Ivo. The retirement home workers want me to call him Ivo more so he stops remembering that he was a famous supervillain. But, I mean, come on! It feels too personal to call him that! I can't help that I slip up. A-And the staff does it on accident too, it isn't JUST me-”
“HEDGEHOGGGG!!!”
“Alright, alright!”
[There is the sound of rustling as the phone is moved. There are footsteps. Sonic is carrying the phone and walking.]
“... As I was saying. This, uh... whole thing probably doesn't make much sense to ya. Lemme explain what happened. Gimme a sec, I'll move to the kitchen to talk to you guys whilst I make the doc some lunch.”
[A door opens - presumably the door to the kitchen - and then it shuts. The phone is put down on the counter, and there is the sound of a fridge opening. Leftovers are put into the microwave, and there is a beep as they are reheated. There are footsteps as Sonic reapproaches the phone and picks it back up. The microwave hums in the background. Sonic takes a deep breath, and speaks quietly.]
“So. Eggman ended up developing dementia, and it's kinda taken over his life and... forced him to retire. Um- I should probably add that he's 80, and I'm 35 now. Anyways... He TRIED to keep going with his villain stuff and keep it hidden, but it got BAD, and eventually Orbot and Sage reached out to me. They couldn't take seein' him like this much longer, and we decided to quietly get him put into a retirement home. Honestly, bless the staff! I'm still shocked they agreed to take 'im! They're angels!”
“Right now, he's in a weird state. The way he acts is... inconsistent. Some days he's like Mr. Tinker and the sweetest guy ever! But sometimes he remembers his attitude and is real rude... Which is how he is today. And most days, honestly. But other days, he tries to take over the nursing home. And on the days where his memory is best, he'll remember we're enemies and just... straight-up try to kill me. And the staff, too. But those incidents are less frequent now, heh!”
“I'm kinda his main caretaker apart from the staff right now. It hurts Sage too much to see him like this, and she's also busy learning to manage Eggman Industries. She's under a lotta stress. Orbot and Cubot are scared to be around him because of his fits of aggression whenever he's near them, and Metal... doesn't want anything to do with him. Sometimes my friends come and help out, but they're pretty uncomfortable around him, so it's mostly just me. But you'll get to see 'em too!”
[The microwave beeps loudly, signifying the food is done.]
(Muffled, from another room): “YAY! LUNCHIES FOR ME-SIES!”
“Yep! Lunchies for you-sies!”
“Alright guys, gotta go. Feel free to send us asks! Both me 'n the big guy can answer 'em. Well, I mean, he'll TRY to answer 'em. He'll do his best. It depends on the question! And the day.”
