jenny air

for the last…. 2 months? I’ve barely been at home. I’ve only been sleeping here pretty much. yesterday was the first full day I’ve spent at home in a long time. it’s really weird. and now I’ve got this 4 day weekend because work has lightened up and I’m only working one job two days a week right now??? which is not great for the financials but good because it gives me time to start working on some other projects and prepping for some conventions and spending time with my boyfriend~~~

honestly I’m still just like… what the hell. The last two months have been really good even if I’ve been super busy. everything feels so much better even if I still have a not great living situation that stresses me out. Things are changing and it’s for the best :)

The Jenny Jones Talk Show Murder

March 1995:

The Jenny Jones Talk Show was, as the name probably suggests, a talk show hosted by Jenny Jones that began airing in 1991. Another likely obvious statement is that the Jenny Jones show was not hard-hitting news, but rather a televised spectacle often featuring subjects such as rebellious teenagers, DNA testing, and other sensational topics.

In March 1995, Jonathan Schmitz (24) of Michigan flew to Chicago to appear on a never aired episode of the show. He had been told by producers that he was being featured on a segment about secret admirers. The heterosexual Schmitz was led to believe that his admirer was female. He apparently spent money on new clothing to look his best for the appearance.

Instead, when Schmitz walked on stage, it was to laughter and teasing of the show’s live audience as he discovered this his admirer was Scott Amedure (32), a friend of his upstairs neighbor.  Visibly embarrassed and uncomfortable, Schmitz listened as Amedure detailed his crush on him. This included a pre-taped sexual fantasy about the two of them. When Jones, the show’s host, asked Schmitz for his reaction, he stated that he was heterosexual.

Humiliated from his awkward appearance, Schmitz returned home to Michigan. Three days later, 911 received a call from him admitting to the murder of Amedure. He had purchased a shotgun and gone to Amedure’s home, where he murdered him at close range. A direct quote from Schmitz to the 911 operator was “he fucked me on national TV”.

Schmitz’s defense was based largely on the appearance on Jenny Jones, as well as manic-depression, alcoholism, and a thyroid condition. He was sentenced to a minimum of 25 years in prison. His conviction was appealed, but he was found guilty again and received the same sentence.

Amedure’s family brought a wrongful death suit against the show and was awarded 25 million dollars.


The side project I have been working on with @iriswestallens is finally being unveiled! We are so excited to bring this to an audience. Help support us!

Vocal Vixens is a talk show about Women of Color on television. We believe that women are dynamic and their TV counterparts should be as well. Each week we use our voices to bring light to topics that concern WOC characters alone. We do this in hopes that the world will recognize that WOC stories matter…period.

Been wanting to paint this lovely lady since “Deep Breath” aired. Jenny is beautiful when she’s modeling for Vastra, but she’s just as beautiful in action. I told myself if she was going to be painted, I’d rather it be like this than objectified and humiliated. (Plus, this way she actually gets painted.)
And yes, she does brighten the room. Tremendously.

(click for big)

Lallybroch Nights

For @iwanttodriveyouthroughthenight <3

 It had been almost four months since Claire and Jamie had returned to the Highlands. Four months since the tragedies of Paris had threatened to cripple them completely. But Scotland - and Lallybroch - had been restorative. The pace of life in the Highlands had given them a chance to slowly heal the gaping wounds left by the loss of Faith. Everything from the air, to Jenny and Ian’s understanding, to Murtagh’s gruff affection, to wee Fergus adjusting to a quiet, more homely atmosphere among family, helping tend even his more darker memories.

Intimacy had slowly made its way back into their bed as well. They didn’t rush or force it, only let it develop naturally between them once more. Long Lallybroch nights that turned words into quiet exchanges of touches and caresses. One night, two months after returning, those small touches and caresses became more. They’d turned wordlessly to one another in the hushed stillness of a warm summer night, finding again what they once feared had been lost to them forever. A connection that only forged itself from their intense coupling, a soul-deep connection stronger than even the darkest dungeons of Wentworth or the devastation of the loss of their blood. A connection that was their sanctuary. Through tenderness and later, raw, blinding passion, Claire and Jamie found themselves once again in one another.

Most evenings were spent with Jenny reading to them all by firelight. Claire and Jamie cuddled on the settee, drowsily passing the time relearning the shape of each other’s fingers and hands, exploring the tiny changes that came with working long hours with their hands in the fields or tending patients. One night - while looking for something she hadn’t read before - Jenny had found in amongst the old musty books in the library, one of Jamie’s books from the Université. A collection of poems both in Latin and English, that she said had been frightfully dull for her, and given it back to Jamie - who looked as though he could barely control his excitement. That night, as they readied themselves for bed, Claire took the book from him as she lay back against the pillows and opened it at random. Jamie took his time undressing.

“You’ve read this in both languages, I take it,” Claire said, scanning the pages.

“Aye,” Jamie replied as he slipped his shirt off over his head, watching her. “I quite enjoyed it actually, committed most of them to memory.”

“To regale all the dainty young French lasses, nay doubt,” Claire teased. “Nothing more erotic than a dashing young man who can pull Catullus out of thin air.” She glanced at him as he unbuckled his belt. He snorted.

“Och aye! Nothing like regaling lasses that hardly spoke neither Latin nor English enough to understand yon dashing lad! Falling a little on deaf ears, no?” He looked up at her then, a cheeky smirk lining every inch of his face. She laughed and went back to skimming the pages, then paused, intent, as a passage caught her eye.

“This is quite lovely,” she said quietly. He smiled, seeing her eyes light up as her smile touched them. He thought he knew which passage she read, but asked anyway. She settled more comfortably, angling herself so the candle by the bed illuminated the page better and began reciting; he could hear the grin plastered on her face clearly in her voice.

“Come and let us live my Dear, Let us love and never fear, What the sowrest Fathers say, brightest Sol that dyes today. Lives again as blithe tomorrow, But if we dark sons of sorrow, Set then how long a Night, shuts the eyes of our short light!”

Just as she was about to go on, she felt Jamie slide into bed behind her, naked, his arms coming around her body, thighs fitting neatly behind her own and his hoarse voice muffled in the clouds of her hair, as he continued - from memory - where she’d left off.

“Then let amorous kisses dwell, on our lips, begin and tell, a Thousand and a Hundred score, a Hundred and a Thousand more…”

He moved her hair off her shoulder, placing a tender, lingering kiss in its place. For some inexplicable reason, Claire found her eyes brimming with tears, emotion catching in her throat. It took a couple tries to swallow them away, even then, when again she spoke, her voice croaked and cracked. ““Da mi basia mille…”” she turned her head, pressing her cheek to his forehead.

Jamie’s arms tightened about her, pressing her back to him, his lips still on her shoulder. Then his hand slid down her body, pulling her leg back onto his. ““…Deinde centum…”” he replied, so faint she’d felt the vibration in his chest rather than heard the words themselves. He shifted then, gliding gently home.

Don't worry, I know I'm a tinhat delusional.

Vastra actually said “The game is afoot.”

So, very explicitly, Vastra is Sherlock, who is married to her live in assistant, Jenny. 

Of course, they pretend in public that Jenny is the maid, to hide themselves from people who would not accept them. But to the Doctor, to Clara, to Strax, they are married. Some people know, but mostly it’s a secret. Not because they’re ashamed, but because they wouldn’t be understood were they to be open.

And it’s not just that they are in love, they actually have that domestic, legal relationship (though presumably under some other government than those of earth at that time…unless the Silurians married them.) But at least twice Jenny mentioned their being married. And Jenny corrects Clara, “I don’t like [Vastra]. I love her.”

This episode was written by Steven Moffat, and he very explicitly tied Vastra/Jenny to Sherlock/John and then very explicitly repeated that they were married, and then they shared an incredible screen hogging kiss. (So it was mouth-to-mouth, but hear me out. Vastra didn’t give breath to anyone else in that room who needed air, just Jenny. It came right after she called Jenny “My love” and was filmed in an indisputably romantic kiss kind of way. So, don’t say it wasn’t a kiss without taking those issues into account first.)

This Steven Moffat human also writes a show about Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. I wonder if he’s ever thought that maybe they’re in love and going to get married and kiss or something. Idk. Hard to say but…

no, it’s not. TJLC is real.

death grips release the instrumental album called fashion week and the titles spell “jenny death when”
fashion week starts in february
the episode of buffy when jenny dies aired on february 24
jenny death = february 24