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vandcrlylecrybaby · 4 months

Text

i still owe money...

name: deryn christine adler

nickname: dare, little bird

pronouns/gender: she/her, cis woman

sexuality: bisexual (preference for women)

birthday: august 2

zodiac sign: leo ☉ | aquarius ☽ | gemini➶

residence: queens

employment: bartender

mbti: ENTJ

enneagram: type 8w7

moral alignment: chaotic neutral

... to they money i owe

TL;DR:

trigger warnings: death, parental death, dementia, infidelity, alcoholism

deryn adler is the only child of two high school sweethearts. her dad was a middle school principal, and her mom ran this little apothecary shop in brooklyn, which is where deryn spent every second of every day she was allowed to.

when deryn was about ten years old, her mom started to act strange – erratic and forgetful, and occasionally more cruel than anyone who had ever known her thought she was capable of being. no one thought too much of it until she accidentally burned down the apothecary shop and couldn't explain what had happened. they took her to the doctor to find out that at the age of 32, she had early onset dementia. deterioration was pretty fast after that. by the time she died six years later, she had stopped remembering the strangers in her house.

toward the end, deryn's dad started to see someone else. it was, for all intents and purposes, an affair. to deryn, it was the final sign that he gave up on her mom. she still hasn't worked her way to forgiveness for that final betrayal.

she started acting out, and her dad assumed she would grow out of it. she didn't. she's spent the better part of two decades years making her best run at running her own life into the ground.

deryn is currently in the phase of regretting wasting a lot of time being angry at everyone and no one at all. she's coming around to the idea of digging herself out of the hole she turned her life into for the better part of two decades.

she drinks more than she wants to and always more than she intended. she started to humor the idea that she might have a problem sometime in the last year, but she's done nothing about it.

very much a ‘just go with it’ kind of person, even if ‘just going with it’ kind of makes her the architect of her own destruction? big fan of blaming the universe for her problems, even if it’s almost always a three-step trace back to ‘the consequences of her own actions.’

she's a loyal friend, though she doesn't always go about it in the right way. deryn has a strong propensity for making things worse when she tries to help. she burns far more bridges than she builds.

i never thought about love...

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

my life for a ride or die friendship

equally so for someone who she used to be friends with but they had a fallout

drinking buddies

former friends (would really love someone who got sick of her generally high level of bullshit)

former coworkers (she has worked? kind of everywhere and was equally terrible at them all)

exes/flings

an almost something that felt serious and one/both of them freaked and now it’s super weird

... when i thought about home

ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS:

tbd

VIBES:

pinterest | playlist

#boroughs.intro #death tw #parental death tw #dementia tw #alcoholism tw #infidelity tw

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vanderlylecrybcby · 16 days

Text

i still owe money...

name: deryn christine adler

nickname: dare, little bird

pronouns/gender: she/her, cis woman

sexuality: bisexual (preference for women)

birthday: august 2

zodiac sign: leo ☉ | aquarius ☽ | gemini➶

residence: south hills

employment: bartender at tric/ part-time cashier at nash's

mbti: ENTJ

enneagram: type 8w7

moral alignment: chaotic neutral

... to they money i owe

TL;DR:

trigger warnings: death, parental death, dementia, infidelity, alcoholism

deryn adler is the only child of two high school sweethearts. her dad was a middle school principal, and her mom ran this little apothecary shop in downtown, which is where deryn spent every second of every day she was allowed to.

she started acting out, and her dad assumed she would grow out of it. she didn't. she's spent the better part of two decades years making her best run at running her own life into the ground.

she drinks more than she wants to and always more than she intended. she started to humor the idea that she might have a problem sometime in the last year, but she's done nothing about it.

she's a loyal friend, though she doesn't always go about it in the right way. deryn has a strong propensity for making things worse when she tries to help. she burns far more bridges than she builds.

i never thought about love...

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

my life for a ride or die friendship

equally so for someone who she used to be friends with but they had a fallout

drinking buddies

former friends (would really love someone who got sick of her generally high level of bullshit)

former coworkers (she has worked? kind of everywhere and was equally terrible at them all)

exes/flings

an almost something that felt serious and one/both of them freaked and now it’s super weird

... when i thought about home

ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS:

tbd

VIBES:

pinterest | playlist

#wnc.intro #deryn | intro #alcohol tw #alcoholism tw #infidelity tw #death tw #dementia tw #parental death tw

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farragoofwires · 1 month

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don' dweeblog

#the one mass fanon I do NOT buy is how the malpractice dept is found family. #have you. SEEN this show?????

i have seen this show and i can say without a doubt that the malpractice department is definitely found family. because i know what their families are like.

#house: that.#foreman: self-disinherits because he loses religion and his mom gets dementia. takes medical power from his father to give it to a colleagu #he just stabbed and said isn't his friend.#chase: so mad at his dad for leaving his alcoholic mother that he moved from australia to the malpractice dept.#cameron: who knows what the family who raised her is like except that they did apparently think it was fine for her to marry a terminal can #...cancer dude she'd just met. and also chase. and then she apparently immediately remarried because she has a decently aged kid w/in 2 yrs #thirteen: oh baby. she's got a brother she killed; a sister she doesn't talk to; a dead mom; and a father who we literally cannot know abou #taub: lol #kutner: MY BABY DARLING GONE TOO SOON!!!!! i'm giving him a pass because i love him.#amber: honorary because she got so far in the competition and then dated wilson. who then inherited all her shit and apartment.#relatedly: wilson: honorary because he clocks in so many hours for them. anyway. lol.#park: a NEURO RESIDENT and LIVES WITH HER PARENTS. hashtag girl. hashtag did you even apply to any med schools not w/in driving distance.#whatshername: way too traumatized by growing up rich. like get over yourself.#and last but not least honorary: cuddy: THAT!!!!!!#everyone is ABSOLUTELY found family. not my fault you assumed found family is a good thing.#f: house #m: house

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kdramanme · 1 year

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Through all the confusion , when Ha In Suk ( JDJ’s secretary ) called Hyeon Wu by Director Do Jun and joongki eyes snapping up at him … yes… That was the best moment . All the confusion for the audience and here he comes like -I SEE YOU ! DIRECTOR JIN! DONT DIE THIS TIME …. -That was the moment for me .

#alcoholic dementia my ass he’s the only other person who can see joonki playing two people 😩#I missed Jin do Jun so much that last episode #I wish he got his girl back tho #reborn rich #song joong ki

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virovac · 1 year

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Excessive drinking over a period of years may lead to a condition known as alcoholic dementia (formally described as alcohol-induced major neurocognitive disorder in the DSM 5), which can cause problems with memory, learning, and other cognitive skills.

Alcohol demntia definition

If you wonder why I don’t find the “alcoholic disaster girl “ archetype tumblr is going gaga over and saying “so relatable” sexy , I had a really scary experience with a relative suddenly unable to recognize me at night when we had interacted fine all day. I had been waiting for a ride since people had to leave the christmas party in shifts.

We later learned she had been self-medicating for pain and stress with alcohol

#alcoholism #dementia #substance abuse #bocchi the rock!#you know who you are

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reloaderror · 9 months

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people doing “me in the nursing home” povs with the aged filter looking 55 at most.

#txt #55 and in a nursing home? hiw’s that early onset alzherimer’s going for you #alternatively alcohol abuse induced dementia

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astxrwar · 1 year

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discovering mads mikkelsen is a weirdo right wing jordan peterson simp climate denier misogynist sure was something i learned today

#:/#maybe it’s just the alcohol frying his brain. mans gives alcoholic energy ngl #it’s the danish we’re like that #not me personally tho it do run in the family. anyway #mads can eat shit hannibal would have killed him for having awful taste #JORDAN PETERSON??#bro.#like come on my grandfather was smarter than that and when he died he was waist deep in dementia.#soooo glad idc about celebs

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i-am-still-bb · 1 year

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Whumptober 2022 - No. 23 - At the end of their rope

DarkHawk, T

Firewatcher AU (Tumblr / Ao3)

Denver’s highways were packed with cars and trucks; people leaving the city to seek a bit adventure and those leaving in search of some time away from city life. The further he was from the city the fewer cars he saw. The roads narrowed.

Now there was no barrier.

Now just a single lane going each direction.

Now no shoulder.

Now no lines.

Now a single lane paved road.

Now a rutted dirt road with branches scraping the sides of his truck.

And then a 4x4 wooden post driven into the ground with a sign saying that no motorised vehicles were allowed beyond that point.

Ross turned off the engine and removed the keys from the ignition. His ears rang in the sudden silence after the hours of highway and road noise, and just the sound of his truck and its contents rattling around.

He opened the door. Pine needles rustled under his hiking boots. There was bird song, but not much else. He grabbed his pack from the bed of the truck, tightened the laces on his boots, and locked the truck—not that there was anybody around to break into it nor was there anything worth stealing except for a pack of gum and a phone charger—before he set out.

The trail was well marked. A brown dirt path only about 12 inches wide meandered through the tall lodgepole pines.

He never thought he would end up here.

Twelve months ago he was running a sort of successful mining company in Denver. He was living with his wife. Everything had been fine.

Until it wasn’t.

She had started forgetting her keys. And then she was missing lectures. The university had put its foot down when she yelled at a student during class. There had been a lot of doctor’s appointments, scans, tests, and questions.

And then the diagnosis came.

She was suffering from early on-set Alzheimers and it was progressing rapidly.

Ross took a leave of absence from work to take care of her.

After about a month of that he had started drinking more. A few beers after she went to bed became a glass of wine with dinner, mid-afternoon shots. And sometimes he would just go to the local bar, a ten minute drive away, and he would stay there until closing.

And then he hit a parked car when he was driving home.

Her family stepped in at that point. They insisted on taking care of her. That meant taking her home to Cornwall with them. And Ross did not put up a fight. Part of him was relieved that she would no longer be his responsibility; that he would be able to go back to living his life.

And then she was gone.

The house was empty.

He went back to work, but he could not focus. Having a drink or two at lunch, or an Irish coffee for breakfast certainly did not help matters. He had expected to stop drinking. It had started with her illness, had gotten worse as she deteriorated and his stress increased, and he had expected his urge to drink would disappear when that stress was removed. But it did not. And he was drinking more now that she was gone than he was before.

They caught wind of his DUI and then he had been more than a little intoxicated during several important company meetings.

The Board of Trustees wanted him gone. But his second in command had convinced them to let him take a leave of absence. After that he will be allowed to return to the company on a probationary basis.

So here he was. In the middle of the woods.

He had applied for this job one evening while he was sitting home alone. He needed something to do during this forced break. If he sat at home he would go crazy.

Dwight had been the one to suggest that he look at seasonal Department of the Interior, Bureau of Land Management, etc. jobs. They had built in end dates, often involved outdoor manual labour, and minimal contact with the public, unless he took a front country job.

So he was going to spend the summer living in a 14x14 foot tower.

He was going to be a fire lookout.

—

Beyond the obvious job duties of watching for fires, tracking any that he saw, and noting fire conditions he would be responsible for trail maintenance in his zone, assisting search and rescue as needed, and enforcing the laws regarding recreation on Federal land. Granted, there were a lot less rules on Forest Service land than on National Park land, but there are still basic laws that apply pretty much wherever you are.

For the summer he had packed basic clothes, toiletries, his e-book reader loaded with books. Everything else would be provided in his tower or during resupply drops throughout the summer. If he found that he had forgotten anything he could request it in the next supply drop. He had considered packing a bottle of liquor, to wean himself off he said, but had ultimately decided against it. The summer was about fresh starts and looking forward instead of back. And that meant no drinking.

And the contract he had signed stipulated that no mind-altering substances were allowed due to the nature of the job. Not that Ross had ever been one to follow the rules.

But he did leave the bottle of vodka sitting on his counter at home. He had filled its spot in his back with a bottle of lemonade.

He had stayed in a motel room the night before so that he would not be making this hike in the dark. He had timed it so that he arrived shortly after sunrise when the air was still cool. He hoped to be at the tower before mid-day.

He was less than a mile in and he was already drenched in sweat and his heart and lungs felt shot.

He was bent over with his hands on his knees gasping for breath with noises that he was embarrassed of even with no one else around.

Ross groaned and straightened himself. He checked his location on the map, and he had gone a little less than three-quarters of a mile. And it was only going to get steeper from here according to the topography lines.

“Fuck.”

He knew he had not really done anything active in a while, but he had way overestimated his physical fitness. He planted his hands on his hips and arched his back trying to relieve the nagging pain in his mid-back.

It was still fairly quiet. He watched a squirrel dig small holes and bury bits of food.

There was a woodpecker in the distance. A few sparrows flitted much closer. He could hear the creaking of unseen widowmakers. Ross’ breathing was the loudest sound.

He adjusted the straps of his pack and set off again.

There was no turning back at this point. There was just arriving and having a wash sooner or later.

—

He did not make it by mid-day, but he did arrive at the tower around dinner time. Those final flights of stairs were nearly the death of him. At the top there was a balcony that ran all the way around his station. The windows that covered every wall were covered up. Removing the boards and storing them in the storage shed was the first thing that he would do in the morning. For now he just unlocked the door and let himself in.

The tower did have electricity. The overhead light was just a bare bulb. Once the light was on he could see the 196 square feet that he will be living in for the next 4 months. There’s a small fridge tucked under a stretch of countertop that contains a half stove and a small sink. There’s a coffee maker tucked into the corner. There’s a desk by the door, a small bookcase, a dresser, the bed, and a table in the centre. Everything is covered with a layer of dust. There are cobwebs in the corners. And Ross is pretty sure he heard small claws on the floor when he turned the light on, mouse, chipmunk, squirrel, or rat will move out soon after he starts to settle in.

He flips the mattress down and makes it up with some of the stored bedding from a cupboard. Too tired to bath, eat, or do anything productive he falls asleep. It is the first time in a long time that he has not fallen asleep with the warm, calming thrum of alcohol running through his veins.

—

“Hey!”

Ross rolled over and pulled the pillow over his face.

“It’s 7:30, princess. Time to wake up and make coffee.”

Ross sat up frowning. There was no cell service out here, he had checked. So where was that voice coming from? There was no one else there. But the bright sun was already peeking through the gaps around the edges of the boards.

“Hello? Poldark?

Ross looked in the direction of the voice. It was the desk. He walked over to it without bothering to put on any clothes. Scowling, sleep still muddling his brain, he stared at the surface of the desk before spotting the two way radio that was sitting in its charger. He picked it up and depressed the button, “Hello. Who is this?”

“You’re up!”

Ross winced at the chipper voice. “Yeah. No thanks to you,” Ross grumbled.

“How’d you even know I was here? I didn’t have to be on site for another two days.”

“I saw your light last night.”

Ross looked at the still covered windows. He should probably wear pyjamas from now on. He had assumed that no one would see him out here. “That’s not creepy at all.”

“Watching things is literally in our job title.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.” Ross set the radio down so he could get the coffee maker going. If he was going to be up this early he was definitely going to need a few cups of coffee.

“So you seem to know who I am. Who are you?” Ross asked while the coffee percolated at the speed of molasses in January.

“I’m given a list of the other Lookouts each season. It helps get the ball rolling. I’m your point of contact if anything goes wrong or you need something.”

“Fair. You didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh! I’m Hawkins. I’m manning Lookout Charlie this year.”

“Well, Hawkins. If it’s alright with you I’m going to have my coffee and then get the tower cleaned out and prepped.”

“Have fun. And don’t forget to let me know if anything needs fixed or something. There should be a packet on your desk along with a book.”

“Will do,” Ross grumbled.

He dropped the radio back in its charging cradle. He dug a pair of underwear from his bag. Half of the bag’s contents ended up all over the floor, but he was not going to deal with that or anything else before his coffee.

#whumptober2022 #no. 23 #at the end of their rope #poldark/return to treasure island #return to treasure island #poldark #fic #referenced dementia #referenced alzheimers #alcohol abuse #bb writes #darkhawk #fire watcher au

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