The Vacillations of Mind (4616 words) by Laura JV Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock Characters: James T. Kirk, Spock (Star Trek), Janice Lester Additional Tags: Episode: s03e24 Turnabout Intruder (Star Trek: The Original Series), Body Swap, Mind Meld, Vulcan Telepathy, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Summary:
When Spock mindmelds with Jim in Janice Lester's body, they come up with a plan.
Title: Don't Care Fandom: Final Fantasy VII Rating: G Length: 633 Author notes: spontaneously written in an hour after seeing the prompt Summary: Cloud gets a job - an he's not taking it because he cares at all.
We expect to open the 520 Day Reverse Exchange collection tomorrow at or shortly after 9pm UTC!
If you're like us, that means it's time to get some last-minute edits in. (You can find your entry via your Statistics page on AO3.) If you're not like us, congrats, and what's your secret? *g*
Only one more day to wait! *gets ready to break out the champagne[1]*
[1] Or water, or other non-alcoholic alternatives, for Shen Wei and other non-drinkers!
Title: Abyss Fandom: Due South Rating: G Length: 486 Content notes: Mild violence Author notes: Written for Challenge 515 - Avalanche Spoilers/Setting: Mountie on the Bounty Part 1 Summary: The aftermath of that moment on the lakeshore.
but I just had a pint of cider, so I can't say how this will go
Yesterday we wandered around St Peter's Port just looking around, and also I went to Boots and dithered between the motion sickness med that the pharmacist said was stronger and the one he said was less likely to knock me out. (Not in those words, but basically.) I ended up picking the "less drowsy" and therefore "less effective" one, started stressing about it as soon as we walked out of the store, and was relived this morning to look up the active ingredient and discover/decide that I could definitely safely take another half-pill if I felt I needed it.
One thing I've noticed both here and in Jersey, btw, is that we haven't seen a single person begging on the street or apparently homeless. Very very different from home.
Anyway, after a while we headed off to the Guernsey Museum, which is an interesting combination of "neat temporary exhibits on subjects of local interest", "permanent exhibits on the history and culture of our island," and "IDK, somebody gave us this stuff and I guess it's interesting?" One of the temporary exhibits was partly focused on the tradition of "hedge veg": produce (and plants, eggs, etc.) set out for sale in a small unstaffed roadside shed or stand, with an "honesty box" for people to leave money in. I had noticed numbers of such stands both here and in Jersey -- these days, as well as or even instead of a box for cash, they may have a note posted saying how to electronically transfer payment to the seller for whatever you're taking. I always like seeing honesty boxes; they give me such a good feeling about the local culture.
I also liked the exhibit on the history of human habitation of the island, from neolithic times onward, and very much enjoyed the recorded samples of sayings and adages in Guernésiais, with both literal and idiomatic translations into English. (I always want both literal and idiomatic translations! Literal translations are fascinating!) Mostly the Guernésiais is entirely incomprehensible to me, and then every now and then a word that's exactly the same as modern French pops up and I have a total Steve Rogers moment: "I understood that reference!"
Many other things were also interesting: "here's a display about a nineteenth-century glassblower who made replicas of ocean invertebrates!" "here's a selection of local traditional medicine!" "here's a Haida totem pole!" (that one was very much in the "IDK, somebody gave it to us" category), but after a while I started fading. Also, as well as motion sickness meds, I had also bought more contact lens solution at Boots and had stopped in at the visitor information centre and bought two jars of the seaweed chili crisp, so my bag was quite heavy. Back we went to the hotel, to rest up before dinner.
Dinner was "pie night" at the local pub, which was definitely in part a way for them to use up the leftovers from carvery night -- chicken and ham pie, you say? shepherd's pie (the proper kind, with lamb), you say? Remarkably familiar roasted potatoes and carrots and parsnips? -- but was tasty and fun anyway. The beef and mushroom, chicken and ham, and roasted vegetable pies had pastry top crusts; the shepherd's pie and the seafood pie were topped with mashed potato (which explains where the previous night's baked potatoes went). All were quite tasty except the seafood pie, in which I found the seafood sadly indistinguishable from the potato. Ah, well, it was a fun experience anyway.
Today we had a slower morning and a later start than usual, but it was nice not charging off to do something right away. The hotel had done a load of laundry for us, so we tidied our luggage up a bit. We also asked the woman staffing the desk (the hotel's co-owner) about the best way to book a cab for next week: we have to catch a 7 am ferry back to Jersey on Tuesday, which means being at the ferry port at six, and the buses don't run that early. They have a list of all the taxi operators and their phone numbers posted (some of them are company names and some are just somebody's name) and at first she just recommended one of them, and then she was like, eh, what the heck, and called him up herself and made a booking for us right then ("Hi, Glen, it's Ank; do you have a cab for 5:45 Tuesday morning? Yes, it's for two of our guests here, they have to catch the ferry. Great, thanks"). It's fun getting to see some inner workings of a community I'm only visiting!
Eventually we pulled ourselves together and walked an hour northward to the Folk and Costume Museum. The walk was along quiet streets, past homes and farms and schools. I don't know if all the schoolkids here wear uniforms or if it's just that we only recognize as schoolkids the ones who are in uniforms, but we certainly have seen a lot of crowds of boys in matching dark trousers and jackets and ties (Geoff was incredibly amused at the sight of a troop of boys heading out for phys ed or whatever they call it here, running out onto the soccer field in their jackets and ties), and crowds of girls in matching jackets and sometimes ties and often the shortest skirts I could possibly imagine. Like, are you for real with that? Those are the kinds of skirts that girls in some schools elsewhere get sent home to change out of!
(I think I've seen one or two girls in school-uniform trousers, but they might have been feminine-looking boys; it's not like I was going to stare at and scrutinize them, I was just privately going "huh, hm?" as they went by. I am somewhat curious about how -- and whether -- schools that demand gendered uniforms deal with trans, nb, or gnc kids.)
Anyway, we got to the park where the museum was supposed to be, didn't see it, but did enjoy wandering through a reproduction of a Victorian kitchen garden (artichokes always look so... unlikely! and I'm not sure I'd ever actually seen espaliered fruit trees before), and then we found the park's cafe and split a plate of chips; we were about to eat them at one of the outside tables but it started to rain, so we took hits of our antiviral nasal spray and went in to eat. And after that it had stopped raining and we managed to find the museum, right next door. The power of fried potatoes, I guess?
I don't have a lot to say about the museum; it was all interesting but I'm kind of out of energy to describe it. More reproductions of period rooms, mostly nineteenth century (I was most interested in the kitchen, dairying, and laundry spaces), and collections of farm equipment and craft/professional tools (all men's crafts: tinsmithing, carpentry, etc.), and a whole series of dresses (and a few men's clothes) from the early nineteenth century through to the 1970s. The descriptions of how the older dresses had been repeatedly mended, and altered, and let in and out, were the most interesting to me there; obviously the ones that survived to be put in a museum a century or two later were the ones owned by people who never threw anything out if it could possibly still be used, but even if they're not fully representative (and certainly people kept clothes much longer then than they do now), it's fascinating to think about the human history sewn into them.
The rain had passed over while we were in the museum, yay! We caught a bus to St Peter Port and wandered out on a long pier at the south end of the harbor to Castle Cornet, part of which I think dates back to like the twelfth century, if I remember the signage correctly, and part of which was built by the Germans when they updated and extended its fortifications against the expected English attempt at recapture. The Channel Islands weren't in fact counter-invaded by the Allies, of course, but the signage told us that the Allies did attack Guernsey forcefully to neutralize Nazi intelligence and anti-aircraft capability in advance of D-Day. It wryly remarked that Castle Cornet is probably the only British castle ever to be strafed by the RAF... I got a photo that, if it comes out, should show the centuries-old stone walls, and buildings inside them that at a guess are nineteenth or early twentieth century, and then on top of the walls a concrete bunker that I'm confident was a German emplacement. (We didn't pay to go into the castle, so we were just spectating and speculating from outside.)
Then we wandered back through the pedestrianized shopping area and bought some sandwiches and drinks at the M&S food hall (is it no longer called Marks & Spencer?) to bring home and eat in our hotel room in lieu of another restaurant meal. A very welcome shower, food, a bitter beer for Geoff and the aforementioned pint of cider for me, and I've been blogging ever since!
And I believe that by now, two hours later, I have both caught up and sobered up.
Tired of work.
Tired of people.
Tired of coming home every day to find his apartment destroyed by his loud, unemployed roommate.
Unfortunately, "Sasha" has no plans of becoming quieter anytime soon.
Between burnt dinners, broken appliances, late-night gaming, and Sasha's endless ability to cause problems, Henry's peaceful life is hanging by a thread. And with their overly energetic friend Rin constantly dragging them into chaos, surviving day-to-day life is already hard enough.
But somewhere between the arguments, shared meals, and sleepless nights... the line between friendship and something more begins to blur.
Too bad some memories are harder to live with than others.
I have been sober for one year after many decades of heavy drinking. By now, I am somewhat comfortable being around others when they drink. I also enjoy entertaining friends in my apartment, but I no longer maintain a well-stocked bar, nor do I wish to. So, what should I do about dinner parties? I want to be a gracious host, but I don’t want to offer a full range of alcoholic beverages to my guests. Should I ask them in advance what they want to drink and stock it? (That seems a bit intense.) Should I buy a bottle each of red and white wine and hope that suffices? (That seems stingy.) Or should I tell my guests that dinner is a “bring your own bottle” occasion? (That seems ungenerous.) Help!
SOBER
First, let me commend you on your sobriety. Making meaningful and positive change after decades of habitual behavior is a big achievement. Well done! So, making note of your phrase (you write that you are “somewhat comfortable” being around drinking), and keeping the relative stakes in mind — protecting your sobriety versus giving a dinner party — I suggest that you hold off serving booze for now. Your sobriety is still relatively new, and it is more important to safeguard it than it is to serve alcohol to friends.
You don’t mention whether you attend a support group for people in recovery. But dropping into a meeting to speak with others who have lived through experiences similar to yours would probably be helpful. They can’t make this decision for you, but hearing their suggestions may help you make a better decision for yourself. I have watched friends in recovery struggle with alcohol that is left over at the end of the evening — as well as with the temptation to join guests in drinking during dinner.
I also suggest that you rethink what makes a good host. For many decades, that probably entailed serving alcohol to your guests. But really, the act of welcoming friends into your home for a meal — and perhaps a nonalcoholic beer or cocktail — is more than enough. No one needs to drink at every meal, and your friends don’t need you to serve them alcohol to feel valued by you.
Open a bank account or get a credit card without signed permission from her father or hr husband.
Serve on a jury - because it might inconvenience the family not to have the woman at home being her husband’s helpmate.
Obtain any form of birth control without her husband’s permission. You had to be married, and your hub and had to agree to postpone having children.
Get an Ivy League education.
Ivy League schools were men’s colleges ntil the 70′s and 80′s. When
they opened their doors to women it was agree that women went there for
their MRS. Degee.
Experience equality in the workplace: Kennedy’s
Commission on the Status of Women produced a report in 1963 that
revealed, among other things, that women earned 59 cents for every
dollar that men earned and were kept out of the more lucrative
professional positions.
Keep her job if she was pregnant.Until the Pregnancy Discrimination Act in 1978, women were regularly fired from their workplace for being pregnant.
Refuse to have sex with her husband.The mid 70s saw most states recognize marital rape and in 1993 it became criminalized
in all 50 states. Nevertheless, marital rape is still often treated
differently to other forms of rape in some states even today.
Get a divorce with some degree of ease.Before the No Fault Divorce
law in 1969, spouses had to show the faults of the other party, such as
adultery, and could easily be overturned by recrimination.
Have a legal abortion in most states.The Roe v. Wade case in 1973 protected a woman’s right to abortion until viability.
Play college sports
Title IX of the Education
Amendments of protects people from discrimination based
on sex in education programs or activities that receive Federal
financial assistance
It was nt until this statute that colleges had teams for women’s sports
Apply for men’s Jobs
The EEOC rules that
sex-segregated help wanted ads in newspapers are illegal. This ruling
is upheld in 1973 by the Supreme Court, opening the way for women to
apply for higher-paying jobs hitherto open only to men.
This is why we needed feminism - this is why we know that feminism works
I just want to reiterate this stuff, because I legit get the feeling there are a lot of younger women for whom it hasn’t really sunk in what it is today’s GOP is actively trying to return to.
Did you go to a good college? Shame on you, you took a college placement that could have gone to a man who deserves and needs it to support or prepare for his wife & children. But if you really must attend college, well, some men like that, you can still get married if you focus on finding the right man.
Got a job? Why? A man could be doing that job. You should be at home caring for a family. You shouldn’t be taking that job away from a man who needs it (see college, above). You definitely don’t have a career – you’ll be pregnant and raising children soon, so no need to worry about promoting you.
This shit was within living memory.
I’M A MILLENIAL and my mother was in the second class that allowed women at an Ivy League school.
Men who are alive today either personally remember shit like this or have parents/family who have raised them into thinking this was the way America functioned back in the blissful Good Old Days. There are literally dudes in the GOP old enough to remember when it was like this and yearn for those days to return.
When people talk about resisting conservativism and the GOP, we’re not just talking about whether the wage gap is a myth or not. We’re talking about whether women even have the fundamental right to exist as individuals, to run their own households and compete for jobs and be considered on an equal footing with men in any arena at all in the first place.
I was a child in the 1960s, a teenager in the 1970s, a young adult in the 1980s. This is what it was like:
When I was growing up, it was considered unfortunate if a girl was good at sports. Girls were not allowed in Little League. Girls’ teams didn’t exist in high school, except at all-girls’ high schools. Boys played sports, and girls were the cheerleaders.
People used to ask me as a child what I wanted to be when I grew up. I said I wanted to be a brain surgeon or the first woman justice on the Supreme Court. Everyone told me it was impossible–those just weren’t realistic goals for a girl–the latter, especially, because you couldn’t trust women to judge fairly and rationally, after all.
In the 1960s and 1970s, all women were identified by their marital status, even in arrest reports and obituaries. In elementary school, my science teacher referred to Pierre Curie as DOCTOR Curie and Marie Curie as MRS. Curie…because, as he put it, “she was just his wife.” (Both had doctorates and both were Nobel prize winners, so you would think that both would be accorded respect.)
Companies could and did require women to wear dresses and skirts. Failure to do could and did get women fired. And it was legal. It was also legal to fire women for getting married or getting pregnant. The rationale was that a woman who was married or who had a child had no business working; that was what her husband was for. Aetna Insurance, the biggest insurance company in America, fired women for all of the above.
A man could rape his wife. Legally. I can remember being twelve years old and reading about legal experts actually debating whether or not a man could actually be said to coerce his wife into having sex. This was a serious debate in 1974.
The debate about marital rape came up in my law school, too, in 1984. Could a woman be raped by her husband? The guys all said no–a woman got married, so she was consenting to sex at all times. So I turned it around. I asked them if, since a man had gotten married, that meant that his wife could shove a dildo or a stick or something up his ass any time she wanted to for HER sexual pleasure.
(Hey, I thought it was reasonable. If one gender was legally entitled to force sex on the other, then obviously the reverse should also be true.)
The male law students didn’t like the idea. Interestingly, they commented that being treated like that would make them feel like a woman.
My reaction was, “Thank you for proving my point…”
The concept of date rape, when first proposed, was considered laughable. If a woman went out on a date, the argument of legal experts ran, sexual consent was implied. Even more sickening was the fact that in some states–even in the early 1980s–a man could rape his daughter…and it was no worse than a misdemeanor.
Women taking self-defense classes in the 1970s and 1980s were frequently described in books and on TV as “cute.” The implication was that it was absurd for a woman to attempt to defend herself, but wasn’t it just adorable for her to try?
I was expressly forbidden to take computer classes in junior and senior years of high school–1978-79 and 1979-80–because, as the principal told me, “Only boys have to know that kind of thing. You girls are going to get married, and you won’t use it.”
When I was in college–from 1980 to 1984–there were no womens’ studies. The idea hadn’t occurred in many places because the presumption was that there was nothing TO study. My history professor–a man who had a doctorate in history–informed me quite seriously that women had never produced a noted painter, sculptor, composer, architect or scientist because…wait for it…womens’ brains were too small.
(He was very surprised when I came up with a list of fifty women gifted in the arts and science, most of whom he had never heard of before.)
When Walter Mondale picked Geraldine Ferraro as a running mate in 1984, the press hailed it as a disaster. What would happen, they asked fearfully, if Mondale died and Ferraro became president? What if an international crisis arose and she was menstruating? She could push the nuclear button in a fit of PMS! It would be the end of the WORLD!!
…No, they WEREN’T kidding.
On the surface, things are very different now than they were when I was a child, a teen and a young adult. But I’m afraid that people now do not realize what it was like then. I’ve read a lot of posts from young women who say that they are not feminists. If the only exposure to feminism they have is the work of extremists, I cannot blame them overmuch.
I wish that I could tell them what feminism was like when it was new–when the dream of legal equality was just a dream, and hadn’t even begun to come true. When “woman’s work” was a sneer–and an overt putdown. When people tut-tutted over bright and athletic girls with the words, “Really, it’s a shame she’s not a boy.” That lack of feminism wasn’t all men opening doors and picking up checks. A lot of it was an attitude of patronizing contempt that hasn’t entirely died out, but which has become less publicly acceptable.
I wish I could make them feel what it was like…when grown men were called “men” and grown women were “girls.”
Know your history.
So this, too, is what they mean saying “make America great again” and/or the good old days.
REBLOG FOREVER.
I am 70. I remember all those things. I was a student nurse from 64 to 67 and we were not permitted to “finish” a bed bath on a male or insert a catheter in a male. Seeing male genitals might cause us “harm” or upset our delicate sensibilities. Imagine when we graduated and were “thrown” to the wolves. Imagine if you were a male patient who had to be the first to be “practiced” on by a graduate nurse. (Ha!) At the school I attended no student nurse could be married. Only one school in my city (Atlanta) would even admit married women and Male Nurses weren’t even thought of. What man would want to be a nurse when he could be a Doctor. In all my training I only remember 3 or 4 Women who were Doctor’s and a very few, (less than 5 or 6) female interns or residents (and this was a teaching hospital) and most of those were OB/Gyns and one was a pediatrician.
When I graduated and was going to get married I wanted to go on birth control pills. You needed to be on them for a least one cycle before they were effective. I won’t go into what hoops I had to jump through to get a prescription from my Dr. (a man, natch) but when i went to the drug store to get the prescription filled I ended up having to get my future husband to “accompany” me so the pharmacist “interview” him and see if it was okay with him for me to be on the pill.
Even when we went to get a marriage license I had to get my Father’s signature and we had to go before a Judge because I was not yet 21 (I was 20 and 9 months).
I could go on and on, getting a credit card in MY name, etc., but I will tell you that WE MUST RESIST.
The number of people I know who romanticize gender inequality is frankly terrifying. A world never existed in which the lives of women were simplified by benevolent men who saw to her every want and need. That was not a thing. A world never existed in which women were all ladies, men were all gentlemen, & everything was some great big cishet fairytale. Feminists aren’t a bunch of upstarts who want to destroy a perfectly wholesome and non-harmful system. Just…look at history. Look at the posts above. We. Must. Resist..
About 8: The State of New York only added No-Fault Divorce as an option in 2010 (!!!)
I want to repeat here.
This is what they mean, when they say “Old-fashioned values”
When conservatives start waxing lyrical about the ‘good old days’, this is what they mean. They are fully aware how much things blew for women, and they would like to return to that.
At first I re-blogged this with no commentary added because it’s already so thorough and good.
But then I realized I actually do want to add something. This was written nine years ago. In the 9 years that have come to pass the white nationalist Christian fascism ultra right agenda of misogyny has had many victories.
In the United States just off the top of my head a very few examples: there’s no longer a legally protected right to abortion. Countless laws across our country police, how woman you must look or be to enter a public bathroom. We know with certainty the president and countless people around him are pedophiles and rapists. Women’s participation in the workforce has been rolled back to 1980s levels. The pressure to be thin is higher now than 10 years ago.
Andrew Keh reports in the NY Times (archived) about a divergence in pronunciation that astounds me as much as if you told me a lot of people pronounced New York “NYE-rock”:
New Yorkers, among other neuroses, can be particular about the local vernacular.
You wait on line, not in line. The subway goes uptown or downtown, not north or south. And “the city” never, ever refers to the whole city — just Manhattan.
But for some reason, no matter how many times they’ve ridden the Long Island Rail Road out to Jones Beach or back and forth between Midtown and Ronkonkoma, New Yorkers can’t agree on how to pronounce it. The evidence has been on everyone’s lips since about 3,500 L.I.R.R. workers went on strike on Saturday. “There are a lot of things to debate and to discuss right now,” said Shekar Krishnan, a City Council member representing parts of Queens, including Woodside, Jackson Heights and Elmhurst. “But there’s one thing that’s not debatable: We say Lurr.”
Try telling that to Kieran McShane, 69, a retiree who spent almost 40 years catching the 6:09 a.m. train from Babylon to Penn Station, the whole time calling it the L-I-R-R — each letter enunciated individually. “Now, I know certain people say L-I-double R,” he said. “But I’d never say that.”
Mr. McShane’s tolerance for alternate vocalizations was truly tested, then, when a reporter informed him that some pronounced the letters of L.I.R.R. as a monosyllabic word. “What?! Really?!” he said, before shouting to his wife in the other room: “Anne! Have you ever heard it called the Lurr?” After a beat, a woman’s voice crackled over the phone: “Never!”
Such confusion on Monday rang out across L.I.R.R. territory. People who said it one way were perplexed that anyone could, would, say it differently. […]
The pronunciations divergence has even the experts puzzled. Michael Newman, a professor of linguistics at Queens College, noted that L.I.R.R. was an initialism while Lurr was an acronym.
“Why something becomes an initialism when it could be pronounced as an acronym is weird,” he said, noting that the City University of New York, CUNY, was pronounced kyoo-nee, but its state counterpart, SUNY, was soo-nee. “I don’t know why it happens.”
Disputes over pronunciation are not uncommon in New York. As an example, Cecelia Cutler, a professor of linguistics at Lehman College in the Bronx, cited the various phonetic approaches to the name Schermerhorn, with sherm, skerm and skim all receiving significant usage.
On L-I-R-R, there may never be harmony, either. Mr. Krishnan, the city councilman, said his own office was starkly divided on the issue.
“I think it’s a Queens thing to say Lurr,” he said. “And I think people in Long Island say L-I-R-R or L-I-double R. That’s my working theory.”
If only it were that simple. Because others insist it should be called The Railroad. And then there are those call who say L-I-R, apparently believing the last letter is superfluous.
Doug Pearsall, 65, the owner of Eastern Front Brewing Co., in Mattituck on Long Island’s North Fork, who can see an L.I.R.R. train station through the front door of his business, said he didn’t agree with any of the pronunciations.
“We all just call it The Train,” he said. “It’s just the way to get into the city. Or the way to drink on the way to Greenport, so you don’t get a D.U.I.”
That last word he pronounced dewy.
I’m with McShane: it’s L-I-R-R, end of story. If some people want to say “Lurr,” that’s their business, but I never heard it in my 23 years in NYC and I don’t care to. It turns out there are limits to my descriptivism. (For what it’s worth, I say SKER-merhorn, but I accept the variants cheerfully.) Thanks, Eric!
Title: The Bachelor Fandom: Viola come il mare Author:veronyxk84 Pairing: Viola Vitale/Francesco Demir Rating: PG-13 Warnings: none Word count: 250 (Ellipsus) Spoilers/Setting: Set in an alternate late S2. Summary: Francesco leads a poll for the most desirable bachelor in Palermo, but the only vote he really wants is Viola’s. Disclaimer:This is a work of fiction created for fun and no profit has been made. All rights belong to the respective owners.
We are thrilled to welcome Zweigle to his new home in Seattle! 💙
Zweigle (pronounced z-WHY-gle) is a one-year-old North American river otter who was born at Seneca Park Zoo in Rochester, New York. He was part of the first litter of pups born at Seneca Park Zoo. Zweigle gets his name from a Rochester-based hot dog company; apparently, when he was born, the Animal Care team thought he looked like a hot dog! 🌭
Zweigle joins 13-year-old Molalla in our river otter habitat, and the pair have grown into gracious roommates. Since the passing of Ahanu in November 2025, Molalla has been the sole river otter in the habitat. Providing companionship for Molalla was one of the key factors in Zweigle’s move from the East Coast to the West Coast. (Fun fact: Zweigle and Molalla share a birthday on January 28th!) 👯
Title: Buried in red tape Fandom: Torchwood Characters: Gwen, Ianto Author: m_findlow Rating: PG Length: 1,550 words Content notes: None Author notes: Written for Challenge 515 - Avalanche Summary: Gwen needs to find something in the archives, but of course, it has to be somewhere hard to reach.
Heya ! God it's been a WHILE since I've posted here LOL ! But I've been thinking on something I haven't gotten a straight answer for :
I have an OC , and a part of their backstory involves pretty much being locked inside their house for 4 years at 17 by their dad at an attempt to keep them away from publicity after their mother killed someone .
To be more specific on their conditions :
- They're not allowed outside unless it's absolutely necessary (example , to see a doctor)
- They have one specific friend who is allowed to come over at any time , and they do message on social media via an anonymous account.
- They do home schooling , to explain education stuff .
They finally move out and go outside more when they're 22 , aka 5 years later .
I know that a (likely permanent) damaged immune system would be one of the negative effects due to lack of vitamin D and exercise , but what else could be a side effect , physically , socially AND mentally ? And how could it be for them when actually going outside for the first time again ? I haven't gotten lots of resources for it ..
Edit : Ok so I learned I'm likely wrong on the immune system , but theres lots of traits I considered that I never considered could've been caused by this trauma ..
Also ! It's worth noting that the character would overall lack motivation to do . Anything for that matter , so exercising is kinda off the table and they lack a lot of basic self-care .
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Spiral galaxy NGC 3169 looks to be unraveling like a ball of cosmic