Main Account for CatTimesWithJellie! I write fanfiction and fanwank, mostly for The West Wing, but also Buffy and The Good Place and whatever else attracts my notice. Send me fanfic prompts for anything I've been reblogging lately. To find all my fanfiction, just search my "fanfiction" tag or check me out on AO3 where I am also Etraytin. To find my Quarantine Journal, search for the "quarantine" tag. And feel free to message me, I love to chat about shows or fanfic or headcanons or whatever.She/Her, 38, USA
My least favorite new politically correct term is "unhoused." Like you can just tell it was created to make liberals feel less icky when talking about homeless people.
I was homeless. I was homeless as a child and as an adult. That shit sucks believe it or not.
The uncertainty. The ever-present grimy feeling from lack of access to running water. Having nothing to your name. The shame you feel is asking your fellow man for the bare minimum. Just so much shame, man.
"Unhoused" is so clinical. A technical term. Sure, its not incorrect, but it doesn't properly convey the emotional and psychological impact homelessness has on you.
As someone who was also homeless as a child, you put my discomfort with this term into words perfectly. I once had to argue with someone who outright refused to use the term homeless because she worked with homeless people, even when I— an actual homeless person— was telling her that it felt like she was sanitising what I actually went through.
I wasn’t just without a house, I was fundamentally living on the outskirts of society without an ounce of stability, and sometimes not even shelter can relieve that. Sometimes I wasn’t unhoused, but I was still homeless.
So today I learned that data recovery is a very expensive proposition. My laptop hard drive failed to the point where even the local PC repair guy could not fix it, and the data recovery lap quoted me a ballpark of 2000 dollars for the recovery.
Yeah, that's not gonna happen.
Farewell, 80 page New Years Resolution journal that I was doing really well at! Farewell, first attempt at fanfic after a two-year drought, farewell, all the sensitive budgeting and banking info I didn't want in the cloud but am now going to sorely miss, farewell Minecraft worlds I won't see again.
The worst part is, I was willing to void my warranty and let them pull the hard drive out if it meant getting back my data, but now I have a voided warranty and nothing to show for it. That's not actually the worst part, but it's insult added to injury.
i love this post so much. all the replies are like
"i'm so basic.....i just like a lot of butter or jam :(" (as though those are not god's best and most beloved condiments and his greatest gifts to mankind)
"FUCK health guidelines FUCK my cholesterol and most importantly FUCK diet culture i'll put a dumpster full of butter on my toast and not even GOD will stop me" (no notes. god would encourage this)
doxxing one's self by mention of polarizing regional delicacies (i am so curious about vegemite i must admit)
"does a grilled cheese count as toast?" (not for the purposes of this post)
"i don't like toast please don't kill me" (i appreciate the honesty but i fear this post is not for you)
people who put full ass meals on toast (based)
people who do not but eat toast as a full meal (based)
melty peanut butter (absolutely based)
"it's a guilty pleasure but...nutella 😳" (relieve yourself of fear and enjoy your dessert toast)
special shoutout to the pots-havers adding extra salt. also the one person who mentioned kaya. i see you and am in agreement
One thing I spent some time trying to unpick in therapy last year was the root of my lifelong issues with food and dieting. I told the therapist that I have no conscious memories of a time when nobody in my family was dieting or when anyone was happy about their weight. Tonight I was watching some video transfers I made from old VHS and Betamax tapes and found the first ever video of me, a grainy old Betamax taken when I was one day old. On the tape, my father announced my birth weight (7lbs, 11oz) and the fact that I'd lost three ounces since birth. "Guess we all should be on diets," he quipped. All of us being him, his immediately postpartum wife (who was very slim despite always thinking she was fat) and his newborn daughter.
Man, if I were still doing therapy, I'd have _so much_ to talk about! I strongly suspect that if I'd been born ten or twenty years later, with the internet much more of a presence in my life, I'd have developed a truly gnarly eating disorder instead of just hating myself and getting fat. I think that makes me lucky, since I'm 43 and still alive and well enough to unpick those food issues. But for fucks sake, Dad!
And it looks to be several hours til it comes back, so I'm throwing open the extremely dusty doors of my Google Drive for any of my West Wing folks who want to read some of my fics that may or may not be in their final posted form. Literally, this is just a copy of my fanfic writing folder that I yeeted onto Google Drive at some point, so these things haven't been touched since like 2016. But help yourselves, a little fic is better than no fic, right? ETraytin's Fic Folder
And of course there's always the option to peruse the Josh and Donna YahooGroups Fanfic Archive, which is eternally unfinished but still has some good stuff in it that is not on AO3.
"Enjoy" may not be the right word for what The Grapes of Wrath did to me, but there was no "sank into my brain and changed something inside me that I wouldn't understand for a long time" wasn't an option on the poll so I'm just gonna say yeah.
Hi! First of all thank you for JD fic archive, it's incredible! I bow to your archiving diligence. I don't know who else to ask, so I'll leave my question here in faint hope: do you know if there's an archive of J/D works by Pixel Vixen (Pix) and Rose (rosiethebug) somewhere? It seems their fics were mostly lost with yahoo groups, but I'm still looking.
Hi Anon! I wish I had been able to do more with the archive, but time and software issues have made it very tough to make more progress than I did in the first big push. Luckily, what I did get was enough to point me in the right direction for your question.
It looks like Pixel Vixen and Rosiethebug both archived at least some of their work on the same website, including Pix's biggest (that I know of) series, Crash Into Me, and Rose's Comedy of Errors. Check them out at this Wayback Machine Link. (Oh and for some reason parts 7 and 20 of Crash Into Me didn't make it into this archive, I archived them here and here.)
Rose also had a few other stories on the same website in the Josh/Donna section here, look for "Distress" and "Professional."
It looks as though Rosie may also have had a few fics that made it into my uploaded archive, though I'm afraid I don't have time tonight to go through the whole thing and search on both their names to see what there might be. Here's the archive link again if you want it. I also have a list specifically of links that I used when trying to find fics still on the web, though neither Pix nor Rose are specifically on it. That's available here.
I hope that helps you, it's always nice to see somebody who is interested in the many wonderful old fics in the fandom! Happy reading!
the horror zine quite literally NAMED “the horror zine” having such stringent restrictions on submission content is stupid as fuck. What do you mean I can’t submit horror with political or religious themes? Are we playing pretend where the entire structural foundation of horror as a genre is just a lie?
I ... I used this list of don'ts as a writing prompt.
Please accept a poem that should be 4 short stories.
(Content notes for gross fungi, antisemitism, corpsey stuff, cannibalism, abortion, religion, telling you what's going to happen and then not doing a twist, eye horror, body horror, gore, self-harm.)
THE MOMENT SHE REALIZES
SHE WILL NOT ESCAPE THE STORY
In her mind's eye, she can still see
the synagogue burning; but her work put him away,
and now he's gone for good. That is,
until the ratings-ravening network
hosts him via seance.
His ears still smoke from the electric chair.
His eyes blitz with light. His jaw creaks
like a gurney to spout the old poison,
ophiocordyceps seeking the highest place
from which to spew its spores. She thinks: Fuck.
They're going to think he's so cool.
***
The company culture is focused overmuch on growth,
but at least the seaweed snacks are free.
Brandless packaging crinkles in her fist, then the bin.
Later, checking the bathroom mirror, she finds
a tendril easing from her eye
delicately,
putrid green under green light.
Her breath is too stuck for a scream.
Back at her desk, the slick vine
slips into her laptop's USB-C port.
***
Her best white friends have her over for dinner.
Guy friend grills in heavy gloves;
girl friend pours them wine.
They talk about allyship, how it can't be all
blah blah blah, no action.
This is great, she says, is it pork?
They tell her, Guess again.
Girl friend shifts her skirt, showing
one hippie sandal and five painted toes.
Girl friend says, We wanted you to see
we're not afraid to give things up.
***
She's believed something was wrong
since she got pregnant.
The morning sickness hit like knives,
and night after night she dreams of a cathedral
soaked in gore. The Mary statue holds
her womb in her hands
while Christ hangs vivisected at the altar.
Whatever this is, it has to end.
At the clinic, as the anaesthesia washes over her,
she watches the doctor's gleaming curette.
He raises it–and her abdomen seizes.
Machines scream. The room goes dark,
and the doctor flips his hand,
driving the slender spike implacably
into the wet meat of his throat.
The thing inside her will not permit itself
to be evicted.
***
There's a house in the woods.
It's the only place that's left for me to go.
They say like a rat in a trap, and I am that;
in my smallness, I've gone animal.
I tried to go everywhere else,
but the walls won't give–the walls of narrative,
the walls of persuasion, the walls of flesh.
How's this for your resolution?
You get what I get: the dizziness, the heart clutch.
The dark without end.
This is Captain Kirk of the USS Enterprise speaking. We’ve entered the orbit of a planet not terribly unlike our own… save that it is exclusively populated by petty old queens.
dededos
2087
annaxmalina
yousharknotpass
turnnoffyourmind
pixelskylines
jacobvanloon
blakekathryn
