#Jefferson station

[phillypeel]

10.19.24, Market Street, 2:27 pm

peel waiting for the bus

[secondsofpleasure]

commuter tunnel mural / 12.2022

[circuitmouse]

Downtown and the Hollywood Hills from the Metro LA Cienega / Jefferson Station

[conandaily2022]

Port Jefferson Station, New York's Robert Schirmer agrees to pay forfeiture of almost $1 million

Robert Schirmer, 58, of Port Jefferson Station, Town of Brookhaven, Suffolk County, New York, United States was a senior executive of Polar Air Cargo Worldwide, Inc. From 2009 to 2021, he and nine others allegedly participated in a massive scheme to defraud the cargo airline. On October 24, 2023, Schirmer pleaded guilty before U.S. District Judge Jesse M. Furman to conspiracy to commit wire…

[krispyweiss]

Album Review: Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway - City of Gold

There’s some good listening to be had on City of Gold despite the lack of inspired and original songwriting.

The latest from Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway - guitarist-singer Tuttle, fiddler Bronwyn Keith-Hynes, mandolinist Dominick Leslie, bassist Shelby Means and banjo picker Kyle Tuttle - features virtuosic bluegrass playing and singing, a guest spot from Dave Matthews and solid production from Tuttle and Jerry Douglas.

But Tuttle and co-writer Ketch Secor (Old Crow Medicine Show) too often borrow melodies from others, as with “When My Race is Run” (“I Shall be Released”), “More Like a River” (“Buckets of Rain”) and “Goodbye Mary” (“Find the Cost of Freedom”); wallow in cliché as on “Next Rodeo;” create sequels like “Alice in the Bluegrass” to accompany Tuttle’s fondness for covering “White Rabbit;” or get a little too rambunctious for the song’s own good as on “Down Home Dispensary.”

Hello, legislator, the voters have spoken/there’s too much politicin’ and not enough tokin’, Tuttle sings on the warp-speed novelty track.

Through sheer talent - and stronger tracks like “El Dorado” - Tuttle & Golden Highway will City of Gold to work. But the source material is lacking sparkle.

Grade card: Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway - City of Gold - C+

8/10/23

[coffee-without-anesthetics]

elas is still playing mf hamilton songs so playing my ear blasting playlist is it

[morbidology]

On May 1, 1947, Evelyn McHale, a 23-year-old woman, leapt to her death from the 86th-floor observation deck of the Empire State Building in New York City. Her death, immortalized by a haunting photograph, became one of the most iconic images of the 20th century and is often referred to as "the most beautiful suicide."

Evelyn McHale was born on September 20, 1923, in Berkeley, California. After her parents' divorce, she moved to Tuckahoe, New York, with her father and siblings. Evelyn joined the Women's Army Corps and was stationed in Jefferson City, Missouri, during World War II. After her service, she moved to New York City, where she worked as a bookkeeper at the Kitab Engraving Company.

Evelyn was engaged to Barry Rhodes, a college student and ex-GI who lived in Pennsylvania. The couple planned to marry, and by all accounts, their relationship appeared happy and stable. However, beneath the surface, Evelyn struggled with deep emotional turmoil.

On the morning of May 1, 1947, Evelyn visited Barry in Pennsylvania to celebrate his birthday. After returning to New York City, she went to the Empire State Building. She bought a ticket to the observation deck and, after spending a few moments there, climbed over the railing and jumped.

Evelyn's body landed on the roof of a United Nations limousine parked on 34th Street. Just minutes after her death, photography student Robert Wiles happened to be nearby and captured an eerily serene photograph of her body. In the image, Evelyn appears to be peacefully asleep, her legs crossed at the ankles, with one hand clutching her pearl necklace.

This photograph was published in Life magazine and quickly became famous. The haunting image, combined with the apparent calmness and beauty of Evelyn's repose, led to it being dubbed "the most beautiful suicide."

Evelyn left behind a suicide note, found in her purse at the observation deck. In it, she expressed her deep despair and requested that her body not be viewed or held in a public funeral. She wrote:

"I don’t want anyone in or out of my family to see any part of me. Could you destroy my body by cremation? I beg of you and my family – don’t have any service for me or remembrance for me. My fiancé asked me to marry him in June. I don’t think I would make a good wife for anybody. He is much better off without me. Tell my father, I have too many of my mother’s tendencies."

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest & @steddie-spooktober.

My Own Version of You

CCF Prompt: Pride & Spooktober Prompt: Frankenstein Friday | Word Count: 1313 | Rating: M | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | CW: Mild Gore, Body Parts, Consent/Ethics (it is a take on Frankenstein) | Tags: Monster AU, Mad Scientist Eddie, His Henchmen, Reanimation, Steve Was Dead and Now This?, Crack Taken Seriously, Spooky Season Fun

Eddie leaves another morgue, another monastery, his bag full of perfect body parts growing fuller every stop. He's going to do this. He can do it. He knows it. 

Eddie hands his spoils off to his assistant.

"Carry this, Igor," Eddie says, slinging the heavy bag over his hunchback.

"Gareth," Igor says, and Eddie sighs.

"Igor Gareth," Eddie says. Yes, yes, always with the full name, but Eddie's not really paying attention to him. He never is. Eddie's too blinded by his own brilliance. Only his own thoughts matter. Not whatever Igor thinks. If he can think. 

This is going to be an innovation unlike any other ever known to mankind. And it has come from his own outstanding brain. Some may call him a freak for even trying, but they'd be wrong.

Because he's a genius, mastering this. 

Well, to be honest, he's never done anything like it before. But he's still certain he's more than capable. He knows his brilliant mind has been stifled by the lack of advancement of technology. That's the only reason he's had an inability to bring things to fruition.

Well, he'll just have to force the world to get up to speed with his brain. He's been working on his contraption for years. Eddie's Ladder. The staff of the castle, working to meet his every whim.

Jefferson and The Freak. Igor Gareth. He's gathered a band of henchmen, and they're there to follow his orders, to bend to his every whim.

If they'll only follow his instructions, precisely and perfectly, Eddie can bring someone to life. Someone that feels as he feels.

They've had so many dry runs that haven't met Eddie's standards. Dead animals, brought back feral. A heart kept beating for weeks. And they've produced at least a dozen inarticulate, snarling monsters that Jefferson, Freak and Igor Gareth have had to put down and bury on the grounds. It's quite unfortunate that their failings have snuffed out Eddie's dreams before they've become a reality.

He's certain he can create a full-fledged reanimated human. Not just an electrified corpse.

Eddie pets the hair of the head he's chosen as his, hopefully, final subject. He's handsome, this one. A rich kid that died of dysentery. Or something. Eddie doesn't know, or particularly care. But Eddie was careful this time. He didn't just grab any old corpse from the boneyard as he'd done before. No, he selected the best parts from all over the countryside. Because this time, it'll be perfect. 

Eddie will be perfect.

He threads the large needle, and slides it through the skin, carefully stitching together his creation, his monster, his masterpiece. 

He looks perfect. This one, a man.

"Igor, the cap," Eddie demands, holding out his hand.

"Gareth," is the response, and Eddie rolls his eyes, snatching the metal contraption.

"Igor Gareth, yes," Eddie replies. Jesus Christ. Eddie doesn't understand why this kid always needs to be referred to by his full name.

Eddie attaches the electrodes, the cap, and stands back, ready to pull the lever that will control all the electricity that he's certain will be able to jumpstart his, hopefully final, creation to life.

Freak has installed a lightning rod on the tower, and now Eddie must wait for the storm to roll in, reach a crescendo, and then he'll get to finish his life's work this time.

The storm is finally blowing in, and Igor Gareth is stationed in the tower, waiting near the bell. He's to be the final alarm. The go ahead.

Then, it's finally happening. 

Eddie hears the thunder. The rain. The lightning cracking across the sky. 

And then the bell rings out, the loud clanging from the tower his notification to pull, and Eddie yanks down the lever, sending the current through the wires, creating the arc, the spark, to jumpstart his creation, his invention, his monster.

The body jolts, and shakes, and shimmies against its leather restraints. Bucking wildly as Eddie watches, eyes wide, enthralled. 

Finally his eyes open. Golden flecks over brown, and Eddie wonders if he's all there. If he's been able to finally bring back actual consciousness, or if this one's just another in a long line of reanimated corpses destined to exist in a zombie-like state until they're dealt with.

Eddie snaps his fingers in front of its face, and its eyes dart towards Eddie's hand, then Eddie's face. An improvement from the last one at least, for sure.

"What the fuck?! Ow!" his creation yells, and Eddie claps his hands in delight. He's done it. He's really done it. It's alive! It's a real man. 

Of course, he had no doubt he could do it.

His henchmen gather, and look at the naked, strapped down man, who seems very rudely ungrateful. 

"What shall I name him?" Eddie ponders aloud, stroking his chin.

"I'm Steve," his creation says.

"What does he look like to you, Igor?" Eddie asks.

"Gareth," he answers.

"I'm not naming it after you, Igor Gareth," Eddie answers, and Igor raises his hands to his head, pulling at his curls. He's an odd boy. 

"Hmm, other thoughts? Jefferson? Freak?" Eddie asks.

"Jeff," Jefferson says.

"Goodie," Freak replies.

And Eddie shakes his head. It's like these fools only know one word each.

"Perhaps Wayne. I always adored my uncle," Eddie says.

"I'm Steve. You're not naming me anything else, you asshole," his creation snaps, and Eddie just laughs.

"You're a bossy one," Eddie declares with delight, then concedes, "Fine. Steve."

"Great. Now untie me."

Eddie really doesn't want to do that until he can run more tests. Make sure he hasn't made something homicidal. That has happened a time or two. Maybe three.

Four, tops.

"Well, Steve, let's just put a pin in that," Eddie says, and Steve clearly doesn't like that, as he lunges, rattling the restraints. He's a strong one. This one is not feeble of body, or mind.

Or cock, from the looks of it. 

Eddie could work with this, as long as he can tame this pissy creature he's formed with his own two ultra-talented hands. 

"If I release you, are you gonna run?"

"From the mad scientist that's chained me up? Um, yes," Steve snaps, and Eddie laughs. He picked a good brain this time. Feisty.

"Then, I guess you'll stay tied up," Eddie insists, and if looks could kill, Eddie'd be dead. Luckily they cannot, and Steve can't move.

Too bad for him.

Eddie keeps watch for days, feeding him, taking care of him. Talking to him. Getting to know him. Trying to convince him to stay. To be Eddie's. His companion. His second. His lover.

Finally, after days, Steve agrees.

So, Eddie undoes the buckles, one at a time, the straps falling loose, and once the last one around Steve's ankle comes loose, he does just as he'd promised days ago. He runs. 

And Eddie watches in disbelief.

His henchmen will capture him.

They don't. He was too fast, too athletic, for those nincompoops, and now he's gone. 

Eddie rages. He cannot believe his own masterpiece would be so ungrateful. He was dead. And now he's not, because of Eddie. 

What an asshole he made.

He'll just have to try again. Tomorrow. 

When he leaves the castle, his body part collection bag slung over his shoulder, he sees Steve sitting against the gate.

He's relieved. He doesn't want another, he wants Steve. 

"You're still here."

"Where else was I gonna go? I'm naked."

Eddie laughs, he likes this creation. He likes Steve.

"Where're you going?" Steve asks.

"Nowhere," Eddie says, tossing the bag aside, sitting down next to Steve. He shrugs off his cloak, handing it over. "Here. Now you're not naked. You can leave, if you want."

Steve looks at him. Then says, "I think I might stay."

Eddie smiles. He made a masterpiece, the perfect man. 

The perfect Steve.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to read takes on all the Seven Deadly Sins, or to offer up your own!

For more Spooktober, pop on over to @steddie-spooktober to follow along with the fun!

Notes: The title and inspo come from the Bob Dylan song of the same name, My Own Version of You.

Eddie's Ladder is a play on Jacob's Ladder. If you've seen old horror/sci-fi flicks, you know what this is. It's that arc of electricity we've all seen a billions times on screen. It wouldn't reanimate anyone, but it sure looks like it could.

The Poor Corroded Coffin boys. Eddie didn't know any of their names, lol.

[janeyseymour]

Fire In My Heart- pt 4

A request from @sleep-deprived-athlete: maybe the reader gets hurt and Mel has to deal with the reader recovering and is all worried and both the Abbott crew and the fire station are worried when both of them are MIA, mainly because the Abbott crew didn’t know the reader got hurt?

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

WC: ~3.1k

You really don’t know what possessed you to do this, thinking you’ll come out of the situation unscathed. One minute, you��re barking out orders to your subordinates to not enter that burning building- that it’s going to collapse quickly. The next, you hear a sharp cry from a coming from said building, and you’re running in.

You quickly drop to your knees and start crawling through the building where you find a small child cowering in the corner on the second floor.

“C’mere, honey,” you yell, still trying to keep your voice gentle. The child is like a deer in the headlights, absolutely terrified with the flames around her. You know that you have very limited time, so you make a decision to run for the child and grab her. Her cries break your heart as you hold her closely to your chest and try to decide if you have time to make it down the steps again or if you just need to jump.

Before you can make a decision, you hear the other side of the house starting to crumble. You look at the window, and it’s closed. Making one last executive decision, you cradle the girl to your uniform, covering her face with your coat, before running for the window and colliding with it. You break the window and go crashing down to the ground- but you’re out. You had fallen at least twenty feet with the little girl, and you hear it almost instantly that your bones can’t handle it. But right now you’re in shock, so you can’t feel it. All that matters is that you get this little, unharmed, girl back to her parents. You can deal with your injuries later.

You get the little girl to her family, and they thank you profusely. You just saved her life. You know. You allow them to fuss over the little girl before you are finally able to walk away. Only then do you hiss in pain at the fire you’re feeling in your ribs and the throbbing in your ankle.

“Chief, you okay?” one of your firemen comes running over to you as you stumble away from the group.

“Fine, I’m fine,” you tell him as evenly as you can. “Let’s get back to the station.”

You let one of the others drive the truck, because you really don’t think you could handle it. You subtly steady yourself in the back, trying not to let every small bump in the road make you scream in pain.

Thankfully, you only have about forty-five minutes before your shift ends, and then you know you’re going to have to get yourself to the hospital.

It’s late. It’s nearly midnight, but you know if you don’t show up at home tonight, Melissa will freak out.

“Mel?” you gasp out as you try to navigate your way to the hospital.

“Y/N?” you hear her sleep filled voice answer the phone. “What’s up?”

“I need you to meet me at the hospital,” you say quickly. “I-”

“What?!” the redhead shouts into the phone, making you wince. “What do you mean you need me to meet you at the hospital?! What hospital?!”

“Jefferson,” you sigh out as you pull into the parking garage to park your car. “Please don’t freak out.”

“When my girlfriend calls me at midnight telling me to meet her at the hospital, I’m going to freak out!” You hear her jump out of bed and start changing into her normal clothes.

“Please, take a breath before you get here,” you tell her. “I’m okay, I’m conscious, I’m talking to you, I don’t need you in a hospital bed next to me because you get into a car accident trying to get to me.”

“Jesus Christ,” you hear the redhead huff. “I’ll be there soon, okay? Just hang tight.”

Your girlfriend runs every stop sign, and she runs most of the red lights too. She parks next to your car in the dimly lit parking garage before sprinting into the hospital, yelling your name at the receptionist as she halts.

“And your relation to the patient?” the woman looks unimpressed with the teacher’s dramatics.

“She’s my fucking wife!” Melissa yells. A lie.

“Room 111.” Your girlfriend takes off in the direction of your room before the secretary can say anything else.

When she gets to your room, you’re laying in the bed, already changed into a gown.

“Hey,” you wheeze out.

“Oh my god, hun,” she mutters as she races to your bedside and kisses you gently. “What the hell happened?”

“Broke ribs, broke my ankle,” you sigh.

“Okay, but how? Why is no one from your squad here?”

“Jumped out a burning building, and they don’t know I’m here,” you do your best to shrug, only to wince in pain.

“What do you mean you jumped out a burning building?”

You sigh before you go to explain your situation, but the doctor comes in to give you medication and begin the process of putting the cast on your right foot.

“You drove here with a broken ankle?!” Melissa’s eyes go wide as she realizes what you’ve done.

You shrug. “I’ve had second degree burns. Nothing hurts more than that shit.”

“Your wife is a trooper,” the doctor tells Melissa. “She’s a tough cookie. Broke four ribs and her ankle in two places and still managed to get herself here.”

“Wife?” you whisper to yourself. The redhead gently smacks your shoulder and gives you a look. You nod quickly before turning back to the doctor.

“We want to keep her for observation, but then she should be fine to go home tomorrow morning so long as there are no left turns overnight,” the doctor tells the teacher. “She’ll need some help for the next couple of weeks.”

“Of course,” Melissa nods immediately. “I’ll make sure she’s alright.”

The two of them discuss how to take care of you to the best of Melissa’s ability, and then he turns to you.

“Morphine’s coming your way, and you’ll be in way less pain,” the doctor smiles at you.

“Thanks doc,” you wince as you shift in your bed.

It’s a bit later that the drugs start to kick in, and your body feels like it’s floating. You grin over at Melissa, you squeeze her hand gently. She glances over at you, taking her eyes away from the doctor as he finishes up the final piece of plaster for your cast. She sees that your eyes are glazed over.

“You feelin’ good, amore?”

“You’re really pretty,” you slur out. “I can’t believe we’re dating.”

“We’re more than dating,” the redhead rolls her eyes playfully as she commits to her lie. “We’re married, remember?”

“Oh my god,” your eyes light up. “My wife! Mrs. Schemmenti!” You bring her hand to your lips and kiss it softly.

The doctor can’t help but chuckle at your inebriated state. “Your wife just kept going on about how you were coming,” he tells Melissa.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” you sigh dreamily. “I just can’t believe you’re my wife! My beautiful, redheaded goddess of a wife!”

“Good lord,” the teacher chuckles. “How long is she going to be out of it like this?”

“Another few hours at least,” the man tells Melissa as he stands from his place. He looks over your cast with a satisfied look. “But she’ll probably end up falling asleep before it all wears off.”

As if on cue, you get Melissa’s attention again. “‘m tired,” you mumble.

“Get some sleep, hun,” she kisses your temple.

“Don’ go,” you whisper.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” she promises you. And that’s the last thing that you remember before you drift off.

When you wake up, your body feels like it’s on fire. It hurts so bad. But Melissa is still by your side, sipping a cup of coffee while she holds your hand and scrolls through her phone.

“Oh my god,” you groan out.

“How’re you feelin’?”

“Like I jumped out a second story window,” you quip dryly.

“Is that what happened last night?” the redhead looks at you. Shit. You forgot you didn’t tell her what happened.

“Yeah,” you admit sheepishly.

“Baby, what the hell?”

“There was a little girl in the fire we responded to last night, and I had no other choice. She’s fine, and I’ll survive,” you grumble. “But holy shit, ow.”

“They already called in your medication for when we get home, and I have the discharge papers. I was just waiting for you to wake up.”

“Let’s go,” you moan as you move to get out of bed. You raise a brow. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I called out. Gotta take care of my wife,” she tells you as the doctor enters the room again.

“Such a doting wife,” you play along, but it feels so good to call her that. Your mind wanders to the ring at the station. “Ava didn’t ask questions, and even if she did, I wasn’t about to say shit. Our lives are personal, and I have enough sick and vacation days to take care of you for as long as I have to.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine in a few days,” you try to assure her.

You indeed are not ‘fine’ in a few days. Your ribs are on fire, the morphine pills hardly help, and you’ve been camped out on the couch for what feels like forever. You’re miserable. You can barely move without wanting to burst into tears, and when Melissa wraps your ribs, you do cry.

“I know, hun,” she says regretfully as she approaches you with the gauze. “I’m sorry.”

“Just get it over with,” you whine.

She helps you sit up, situates herself behind you, and undoes the gauze around you now. She inspects your ribs for a few seconds with a sigh. “They’re starting to change color,” she tells you softly. “Which means you’re one step closer.”

“This is going to take forever,” you groan. “I just want to get back to work.”

“I know you do,” your girlfriend tells you as she starts to wrap you again. “But for now, try to revel in the time we get to spend together.”

“I am very much enjoying watching you dance around the house,” you crack a smile. “But I wish I was dancing with you. And sooner or later, the boys are going to start freaking out if I don’t show up to the station.”

“Well,” your girlfriend sighs as she finishes wrapping you up before pressing a few ice packs to your ribcage. She helps you lean back against her. “The doctor said to limit travel and physical activity.”

“What did you tell the school?”

“That I was taking time off,” she says flatly. “I told you: they don’t need to know unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“And nobody has reached out to ask you about your leave of absence?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “I don’t care. I’m busy taking care of my woman.”

It takes approximately a week for Randy to text you about your whereabouts.

Chief, I know you said you were sick, but this is becoming worrisome. I’ve seen you in here through so many sicknesses. What knocked you this time?

“Randy texted,” you sigh. “And I don’t want to admit I’m… like this.”

“Barb’s been texting me too,” your girlfriend sighs from behind you.

“Do you think we should just come clean?” you ask.

“That one’s up to you, hun,” Melissa tells you as she presses a kiss to your temple.

“I guess I should tell my crew,” you wince slightly as your girlfriend readjusts the ice on your ribs. “If the Abbott guys find out, I guess it’s whatever.”

Broken ribs and broken ankle, you text your short-term replacement. I’ll be back in a week, but I’m on desk duty for the next couple months.

How’d you manage that one?

Jumped out a second story window to save a little girl.

You at least getting workers’ comp? Randy asks. He’s always so logistical.

You bet your ass I am.

Feel better soon, Chief.

Thanks, Randy.

Melissa Ann Schemmenti, a text from Barbara reads. You better answer me and explain where the hell you’ve been.

Melissa, we’re getting worried.

Melissa.

The redhead sighs as she calls her best friend from work.

“Melissa Ann, you better tell me what is happening right now that has you going MIA from work,” the kindergarten teacher picks up immediately.

“I’m fine,” she rolls her eyes at her friend’s dramatics.

“Then where have you been for the past week and a half without telling us where you went?!”

“Listen, Y/N got hurt on the job, and I had enough days to take to stay home and make sure she’s as comfortable as she can be right now,” the redhead sighs into the phone. 

“Y/N got hurt?” Barbara’s voice goes softer instantly. “Is there anything any of us can do to help the two of you?”

“Nah, we got it handled,” Melissa says into the phone. “I’ll be back next week, but I’ll still most likely be taking half days so I’m here when she needs me to drive her home-“ she turns to look at you. “-because there ain’t no way she’s taking the Septa to work or driving herself.”

The next day, Randy comes knocking on your door.

“Mel? Can you grab that?” you call to her from your place on the couch.

“Yeah, hun,” she calls back as she wanders into the front room. She grabs a baseball bat from behind the television before going to the door.

“Randy?” she raises a brow as she puts down her bat. “Zach? Luke?”

“Hey,” the older man says quietly. “Thought we should check up on the chief and bring some stuff.”

Your girlfriend steps aside and lets them into the house.

“Hey, boss,” they all say at the same time. Randy has a bouquet of flowers, Zach has some chocolates for you, and Luke is standing there with two cards in hand.

“Why are you here?” you ask from your place on the couch. You groan as you try to sit up slightly.

“Take it easy, Chief,” Randy immediately says. Melissa nods at his words. “We just dropped by to make sure our favorite badass is doing okay.”

“I’m not gonna lie,” you sigh as you fall back into the cushions. “I’ve been better.”

The boys come and take a seat around your living room. Randy places the flowers on the coffee table, Zach hands you the chocolates, and Luke gives you the card.

When you open the first envelope, it’s a card from the family that you responded to. There’s quite a long letter expressing their gratitude for saving the little girl. The second envelope is from the squad, and there’s quite a few gift cards and well wishes within it.

“Youse guys didn’t have to do this,” you roll your eyes. “But thank you.”

“When our chief is down, we have to look out for her,” Luke tells you earnestly. “Gotta take care of you the way you take care of us.”

They stay for a bit, and by the time they leave, Melissa is starting to make dinner.

The day after that, Barbara stops by.

“Barb,” Melissa answers the door.

“Where is she?” the older teacher asks.

“Wow. Hello to you too. I thought you were my friend,” the redhead deadpans.

“Your girlfriend is hurt,” the kindergarten teacher enters the living room and takes in the sight. “Oh you poor thing.”

“Hey Barb, I’m alright,” you chuckle, but then you wince. It still hurts to laugh. She hugs you gingerly before settling next to you.

“Is Melissa taking care of you well?”

“Of course she is,” you say honestly. “Mel likes to play tough, but you know she’s just a marshmallow underneath all that eyeliner and leather.”

“Oh don’t I know it,” Barbara quips.

“You really didn’t have to come by,” you tell her. “But thank you for stopping in.”

“You’re lucky it’s just me. The whole group wanted to stop by for our favorite firefighter, but I knew you two wouldn’t much like that.”

“No, we would not,” Melissa says flatly. She then softens. “You staying for dinner?”

“Oh, Melissa,” Barbara tuts. “Take a seat. You have to be exhausted taking care of your crippled girlfriend. I’ll cook the two of you dinner.”

Only then do you notice that the woman had come in with a bag full of groceries.

“No, no,” your girlfriend waves her off. “I’m fine. Besides, it’s about time for her to start icing her ribs any-”

Barbara stands immediately and heads for the kitchen. After rifling around in your freezer, she returns with two ice packs. “Sit, Schemmenti. I got this. You both deserve to be taken care of.”

“I got-”

“Melissa Ann,” the kindergarten teacher says sternly. “Sit. Relax. I got this.”

Begrudgingly, Melissa makes her way over to you and situates herself behind you. She holds the ice packs to your ribs gently, despite the fact that you try to squirm away from the cold sensation.

“I have stuff to make my casserole,” Barbara informs the two of you. “And until it’s ready, you two will stay right where you are and relax.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you mock salute her as you relax against Melissa.

By the time the casserole is in the oven to cook, your girlfriend has dozed off.

Dinner is delicious, and you couldn’t be more grateful that Barbara got Melissa to sit still and actually relax. She needed it. She’s been hovering over you since the incident, an anxiety riddled mess. 

“Thank you,” you sigh softly to the teacher as she heads out. “We really appreciate it.”

“Anything for family,” the woman says softly before she sees herself out.

You return to work the following week, and as you hobble into your office, your squad applauds you.

“It’s good to have you back, Chief,” Randy says loudly. He follows you into your office before confiding in you quietly, “This place was about to go to shit if you didn’t come back.” He grabs his coffee mug off of your desk before making himself scarce.

As you reacquaint yourself with your office, you pull open the drawer that has Melissa’s ring in it.

If this whole ordeal taught you anything, it’s that you need to propose to your girlfriend- sooner rather than later- so that you can officially call that redheaded woman of yours your wife. That and… maybe don’t jump out of a second story window and think you’ll be okay.

Next

[holdmytesseract]

Time To Get A Grip [EoH]

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: After returning home from a nightshift and finding your boyfriend stoned on the sofa, you lose it. Given the fact that he becomes a father soon, it's time for him to finally get a grip.

Warnings: Major trigger warning here! swear words, mentions of alcohol, drugs and smoking, drug consumption, pregnancy things, drama, a fight, angst, bit of blood, fluff, age gap

Gotta rate this story 18+, just in case!

Pre-Apocalypse Era!

Word Count: 3,2k

a/n: You chose and I am here to deliver! 😁 Well... I had this idea - and wrote it. It fitted perfectly into Daryl's, Y/N's and Teddy's story, so... But it's also quite a bit heavy. I never wrote something like this before.

Special thanks to @fictive-sl0th for encouraging me and loving my Daryl fics! Love ya, friend! 💕

Also, I apologise to all the Merle fans. Sorry, guys! 🙈

Tagging: @km-ffluv @stitchintimefan @sweetpeapod @loz-3 @peaches1958 @fictive-sl0th @lou12346789 @fuseburner @hotgirlsshareaccounts @in-this-minute @eddiemunsonsupremecy @mrbrownstne

Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

Releasing a big yawn; you closed the locker with the number thirteen painted on, and slipped the key - which was attached to a key ring, inside the pocket of your jeans. With a sigh you grabbed your bag and made your way towards the exit of the changing room. "By girls, see you on Monday!" You said goodbye to your coworkers; smiling. They bid their goodbyes as well; waving and smiling.

Taking a deep breath, you left the room and the big building behind yourself and stepped out on the streets of Gainesville; the bright morning sun almost blinding you.

Working as a nurse in a hospital wasn't always easy. Especially the night shift. But working as a nurse in a hospital at night, being almost eighteen weeks pregnant was even less easy - and so very exhausting. As soon as I'm five months in, I'm quitting this shit, you told yourself. Only day shifts from then on. The thing was, you told yourself that already from the start. From the very day you found out you were pregnant. It was a lie which repeated itself month after month. You knew that it wasn't good to work night shift after night shift. Not for you, nor for the baby. But you practically had no other chance. Being alive was expensive. Food was expensive. Having a roof over your head was expensive. Even if it was just a small apartment in one of the endless, old and quite ragged apartment blocks in downtown Gainesville. It was even more expensive, when you are the only one earning the needed money. And soon, you were going to have not only two mouths to feed, but three. Every day you hoped for a change to come - but it wasn't easy. Oh no.

You shook your head slightly and took another deep breath, in order to get yourself out of your thoughts and your sleepy brain to focus.

After you checked your surroundings, you crossed the front yard of the hospital and made your way to the bus station. All you wanted to do now was going home, crash on your bed and sleep at least until late afternoon. Your body wanted that as well. You knew that, of course. Hence, you had almost slept in on the bus and missed your stop! Luckily, your hazy brain reminded you to stand up in the last second.

Waiting until the bus rolled past you, you crossed the street and walked the last meters to the building in which your apartment was. It was just a few blocks down the road. At least the weather is nice today, you thought; looking up into the sky.

You unlocked the old main door, which led into the big staircase and started to climb the steps, leading up to the third floor. On your way, you met a familiar face - unfortunately. "Oh, good morning, Mrs. Jefferson."

Elsie Jefferson. The typical, critical bitter old lady next door, who everybody knew. Husband long dead and owner of at least ten cats. She was utterly nosy and curious about anything and everything. You couldn't stand her since the day she decided to interfere in your affairs. It was your life, not hers - but Mrs. Jefferson didn't care of course. And sometimes, you had the feeling that she did this all on purpose, because she liked you just as little.

"Ah, good morning, Y/N." She had just left her apartment; wearing those old slippers she always wore. A trash bag was in her hand. Apparently, she was just on her way to take out the trash - and you had the perfect timing to run straight into her. Great.

"Coming home from a night shift?" "Mhm, yep." You had absolutely no intention to talk to her, but you also couldn't be so rude to just walk away. The older woman shook her head. "Young lady, young lady... You should stop doing that. Now that you are pregnant." Not that again. "I know, but it's my decision. I'm okay with it. I'm used to it." Mrs. Jefferson shook her head again; rebukingly. You already wanted to walk past her; thinking that the conversation was over - but for her, it wasn't. You should've known. "Does your chaotic mess of a boyfriend still has no job?" You clenched your jaw. You hated it - absolutely hated it, when she brought Daryl up in those stupid conversations. All she wanted was to sting you and throw mud at him - just because he was how he was.

Gritting your jaw, you tried to smile at her. "He's at it." You didn't reveal more. While should you? "So no." She concluded, before stepping closer to you. "Chit... You should get rid of him." "I don't think so, ma'am. He's the father of my child." You tried to argue, but Mrs. Jefferson didn't even listen to you, just continued to speak ill of Daryl. "That man is not good for you and brings nothing but trouble. Just look at his messed-up family! His abusive, alcoholic father! His mother, who was a chain-smoker! And don't get me even started on his brother! Violence, alcohol, drugs... Wasn't he even in the prison only a few years back?" She exclaimed. "Daryl Dixon is toxic, Y/N - and way too old for you... Do you really think he's better than the rest of his family? Do you really think he can change? Turn into a better person?"

Hearing all those foul and judgemental words leaving the older lady's mouth, caused anger and sadness to flow your veins. How dare she? How dare? You had a hard time to keep yourself calm and not snap at her. The raging pregnancy hormones within your body didn't quite help the situation. Closing your eyes for a moment, you took a deep breath. "Yes, I believe exactly that. I love this man - and that's all that matters. Have a nice day, Mrs. Jefferson." With those words you walked past her; continuing to climb the stairs. But of course, she had one more bombshell to drop on you... "You should've never let him get yourself pregnant. Dixon isn't made to be a father." You ignored her and moved on; mumbling under your breath: "That's what mum said as well..."

You tried to calm yourself down on the rest of the way and erase what just happened from your memories. You didn't have the nerves to deal with that woman. Not today. Not after an exhausting night shift and three times of throwing up in the staff toilets - no.

You climbed the last few steps and headed straight for the quite rickety door, which led into yours - and somehow Daryl's apartment.

Relieved, you closed the door behind yourself. Finally at home. Thank god. Throwing your keys on the small shelf beside the main door, you took off your shoes and jacket. You didn't anticipated Daryl to be home. Not after he had told you Wednesday morning, that he'd go out with his brother. You knew exactly what 'go out' meant. But who were you to stop him? God knows you had tried. Several times. But well... Blood is thicker than water.

Given that fact, you were quite surprised, when you found him in the living room; passed out onto the couch. A smile crossed your face; knowing that he was here - but it faded quickly, when you noticed the condition he was in. Daryl was laying on his stomach; one arm dangling over the edge of the sofa. One sleeve of his yellow-black checkered shirt was ripped off, while the other was still intact. When you squatted down beside him, a wave of cold smoke hit you; coming undoubtedly from his clothes. Daryl's breathing was heavy; sweat dotted his face and presumably his whole body as you noticed further. Some dried, crusty blood was smeared across the skin underneath his nose - and you knew. You knew. You weren't blind. And a nurse. You could tell when somebody was stoned - or well, had been stoned.

It didn't happen often - luckily. It was already enough that Merle made him to consume alcohol way too often. Making him to take drugs was an entirely different story. And you hated Merle for it. Yes, he was strictly spoken family, but the impact he had on his little brother was way too big. The worst part of it was, that Daryl didn't even defend himself.

Seeing your boyfriend in this condition caused the anger, sadness and frustration you had just swallowed down to come up again. Twice as hard. You stood up and crossed your arms; looking down on him.

"Daryl. Wake up." No reaction. "Daryl." You nudged him softly with your knee, earning a low growl. Like already said... You didn't have the nerves to deal with shit like that today. "Daryl fucking Dixon!" You yelled then, causing the man to flinch and immediately wake up. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, huh?!" He groaned again and moved to sit up; pinching the bridge of his nose. His sweat soaked shirt on full display; short blonde-brown hair as messed up as it could be. "What'd ya mean, hon?" He slurred; still trying to wake up properly. "Oh no no, don't pull that card, Daryl. Don't 'hon' me. You know exactly what I'm talking about!"

Your boyfriend rubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair, before reddened eyes looked up to meet your Y/E/C ones. "Merle, uh, Merle's got this new, uh, dealer and-" "Forced you to try the 'good stuff', I know." You finished his sentence. "What was it." He didn't answer, just looked at the ground. "That wasn't a question, Daryl. It was a demand. Tell me." He still didn't talk. You stepped closer and rather harshly pushed his left shoulder. "Tell me! What did you snort?!" Daryl swallowed visibly; once again avoiding eye contact. "Jus' a bit Crystal Meth."

You gasped audibly; jaw dropping. "Crystal Meth? Crystal Meth?! Fucking hell, Daryl! That's one of the most dangerous drugs!" Sure, he wasn't stoned anymore, but undoubtedly dealing with the aftermath. And the drug caused his already quite short fuse to be even shorter. He was more irritable. You noticed. Therefore, he was quickly losing it. "Goddamn, woman! Calm down! It was jus' a little bit! I won't do it again!" He snapped - and you swallowed hard; already needing to suppress the tears. The drugs influenced Daryl and the hormones influenced you.

"I don't care if it was just a tiny bit! I don't care if you say you won't do it again, because you always break this promise! You'll do it again - and we both know it! You'll drink again. You'll smoke again. You'll toke again - and you'll take drugs again. Merle is bad for you! When do you finally realise that?!" "Nah, he's family, Y/N! He's the only one I got left!" You shook your head. He didn't even listen to a word you just said, did he? "That may be true, yes! But he's so far off track - and he's dragging you right with him! You could be so much, more, Daryl... But for that, you need to finally break free!" Your boyfriend clenched his hands into fists; was visibly angered as well. "I won't jus' leave Merle! Ya can't ask me to do tha'!" You frustratingly rolled your eyes. He really didn't understand. "I am not asking you to leave your brother! I told you again and again... I'm asking you to keep a healthy distance! Separate your life and his life! Stop acting so headless!" "'M not actin' headless!" You laughed almost maniacally at his ridiculous words. "Oh hell yes, you do! And you know it! Stop this! I need you to quit acting this way, because-" The anger coursing through your veins got suddenly replaced by fear and desperation.

"'Cause wha'?! Huh?! 'Cause what?!" Daryl's already not properly thinking brain thought even less logical as he spat out that question. "I don't know if it already slipped your notice, but..." You pulled the baggy t-shirt you wore aggressively down, causing the visible outlines of your baby bump to appear. "I'm fucking pregnant, Daryl! With your kid! You're going to be a father in not even six months! Do you even know what that means?! A child comes with great responsibilities! We are talking about a human being we need to look after! A baby isn't like a dog or a cat! I can't have you hanging somewhere around, drunk or stoned! That's reckless - and I thought you were aware of that. Apparently, I was wrong."

Daryl was unfortunately way too deep in his rage to understand. All he saw was red. Literally jumping up from the couch - his symptoms of the drug consumption forgotten for a moment, he took a few threatening steps closer, until he was hovering dangerously over you. "Well... Guess ya shoulda have listened to yer parents, girl... 'N dump me when ya still had the chance to. I told ya from the very beginnin' that this wouldn't work out. Us. This relationship was meant ta fail... But now's too late. Like ya said... Already knocked ya up with that bastard child."

You and Daryl had already quite a few fights in your relationship. That was normal and common. Hurtful and ugly words were sometimes exchanged - but he had never said something like this. It really hurt you. Deep. Despite the fact, that you knew that he probably didn't mean what he had just said. You knew that he was actually happy about this baby. Scared to death, but happy. But it hurt. So freaking much.

You were exhausted. So utterly exhausted - and yet sleep didn't find you. You laid awake, hour after hour; thinking about what had happened - and the possible consequences of it. Your brain just couldn't shut up and so you spent the rest of the day and even night with just staring at the wall or ceiling and crying. Sure, you could sleep a few hours, but it was not peaceful and certainly not restful. Anyways... It was way too less sleep, given the fact that you had a night shift behind yourself and were pregnant. Needless to say, you couldn't be any happier about the fact that Sunday was your day off.

You just stared at him, while tears started to trickle down your cheeks. "Go." Your voice was merely above a whisper, but your eyes told Daryl enough to realise, what he had just done. "Y/N, I-" "Leave." "Y/N-" "I told you to go!" You yelled, pushing him away from you. "Get out of my sight, before I do something I might regret!" Daryl grunted and ripped the other sleeve of his shirt off, before he walked to the door; "Fine! If ya want me ta go, I'll go!" and slammed it shut behind himself. Mere seconds later, you broke down crying.

In the early morning hours, you heard the sound of your doorbell ringing. Cursing under your breath, you stood up and walked to the door. You had just been on the verge of dozing off again...

You already suspected that it was Mrs. Jefferson, one of your neighbours - or hence, even the postman, but you certainly didn't expect Daryl to stand in front of your door. Honestly, you expected anyone, but him. He never came back that fast after a fight. Never.

Well... Until now.

"Daryl?" You asked; totally stunned and also a bit confused. "What are you doing here?" He had both his hands stuffed into the pockets of his slightly ripped, grey jeans. A fresh tank top covered his body; not that ragged shirt anymore - and he had visibly showered. The man leaned against the door frame; biting his bottom lip nervously - a habit.

"I really fucked it up, didn't I?" "Yes. Yes, you did," you confirmed without even blinking. Daryl swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "'M sorry." You looked him in the eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. "You always say that. I always believe you. And you always fuck it up again." You paused; trying to find the right words. "I love you, Daryl - but honestly, I don't know how long I am able to play this game."  He swallowed hard; the harsh realisation of the possibility to lose you - and with that his child hitting him full force. "Y/N, I... I know. 'M an asshole. Always was. Most likely always going ta be. I don deserve you. And certainly not yer love - but please... Give me one last chance. Us." He sighed; desperately. Words weren't his strengths. "Fuck's sake, I can't live without ya. I need ya. You know that."

Now you were the one who had to swallow hard. Tears stung in your eyes; as you tried to figure out what to say. Yes, you were still angry at him for what he did - for what he said, but on the other hand... You loved this idiot so fucking much. Perhaps even too much for your own good. Not that you cared, though.

"Yes. And I need you, Daryl..." Your raging hormones caused your walls to break. "You're all I've got. I chose you above my family. I gave up my entire life for you. Please don't let this be for nothing. Please hold your promise this time." You choked out; tears staining the fabric of your sleep shirt. "Look for a job; get some distance between your life and Merle's life - and, for our child's sake, get a grip. There's not much time left for you to turn the tide." You took a shaky breath and cupped your baby bump. "I can't do this without you..."

Daryl nodded; his expression soft and full of love - and regret. "I know. I know." He stepped inside your apartment; closed the door and approached you, before he shyly - almost hesitantly placed his bigger hands on top of yours. "'M sorry. 'M so sorry. For what I did - 'n especially for what I said. I didn't mean it. I love that kid. Ya know I do. 'N I promise I'll try ta be a better man. For you and the baby."

You only nodded; unable to speak because of all the tears you shed. He leaned forward; pressed a kiss onto your forehead - and that was the moment you entirely caved. You threw your arms around his neck and hugged his body. Daryl accepted the hug, of course; placed both his hands on your hips and held you.

After a while, Daryl bent his knees and quickly swept you off your feet - much to your surprise, before he carried you into your bedroom. He set you down on the bed, quickly stripped off his top and jeans and joined you; wrapping you up in the tightest snuggle possible. It was almost like he sensed how tired and worn out you were. "Sleep, hon. 'M here. I won't go anywhere." You smiled tiredly up at him and couldn't resist the urge to kiss him. So, you did. "I love you." "I love ya, too."

[phillypeel]

03.19.24, Filbert Street, 4:52 pm

the first banana peel of spring

[whats-9plus10]

Venture Bros.: Radiant is the Blood of the Baboon Heart commentary and extras.

This is what I gathered during my first watch. Hopefully, I'll be able to upload the audio bits like I did for seasons 1-7 eventually! I'll catch all the little details then 💛

Let me get this out of the way. They did not answer the most important question of all.

In the past, Doc and Jackson have said that what they say in the commentary isn't necessarily canon. What is canon is what's in the actual show, not what they explore outside of the show because they're always changing their minds. Sometimes they disagreed while answering questions. Take that as you'd like.

Jonas didn’t abandon The Monarch after the plane crash intentionally. He assumed he died or he ran away before he got there. They hinted that Jonas downed the plane himself.

When asked if Jonas loved Rusty they say he’s a bad person, the villain of the show, and a monster. Jackson thinks he might have been a boy adventurer himself. They compare him to baby boomers forcing their children to live the lives they wanted themselves.

Does Rusty have the other twin killed when only one dies? Jackson says only when they witness the death. He referenced Ice Station Impossible. Brock has done it before.

Ritchie Valens refused to join The Guild and Red Mantle and Dragoon’s (Buddy Holly and The Big Bopper) initiation was to kill him so he wouldn’t tattle.

Doc says the second sons are the ones who succeed in The Guild, not the first sons, because they’re most likely to become evil and that’s why Dean was chosen as The Guild’s successor.

Doc described two episodes he would like to do: 1. "Heads in the water." Which is the heads of characters bobbing in the water after a crash for the entire episode. An all dialog bottle episode. 2. An episode that starts off like a regular Venture Bros episode. Then a henchman dies and everything pivots. 21 calls his wife and says “Real sorry but your husband died in service” (Doc put on his 21 voice here). We then see the wife and daughter (from another marriage) and follow them in their lives.

What is The Monarch's favorite ABBA song? Doc thinks Waterloo and Jackson thinks Take a Chance. They riff as Monarch and Dr. Girlfriend for a few seconds.

Gary's a big Sneaker Pimps fan.

Rusty doesn't have a middle name. If you ask Rusty he'll say the S stands for sexy or science or SUPER science. Rusty’s favorite musical is Starlight Express or RENT (Jackson disagreed). He's never actually watched them but he likes the advertisements.

Brock Frog is the guy that "brings in bagels". A 3rd generation Italian American from "bricklayer stock." He fell out with his dad because he wanted to bring bricks into the future. He teamed up with Professor Vigo Dale, who screwed him out of half of the company after Brick Frog gave him all of his brick ideas.

Mantilla has the ability to make things invisible by touching them but claimed it was teleportation. “It’s all bullshit…and she had money from her past”

Mantilla has been "garbage picking" from The Monarch’s trash, such as Dr. Mrs.'s costume ideas in season 3 that she had thrown away and their wedding invitation.

The guys in the warehouse with Jefferson were all roommates in the 90s.

We would have had a full episode of Force Majeure and Jonas Venture's rivalry.

We would have had another episode of Billy and Colonel Gentleman "John Wicking" after Mischa was found dead right before a doggy costume contest.

Matt Berry was supposed to voice Force Majeure.

Why does The Monarch hate Doc so much? Jackson says “Obviously it (the thought that Debra left him for Rusty) bothers him a little more than he said.”

They called Gary's hair “the popular millennial cut” and made him "half Glen Danzig half Wolverine."

Doc has drunk his own urine multiple times because they pee in bottles in the Astrobase. "Recently".

During the last scene in the movie when everyone is talking, Gary and Hatred were talking about a loofah. Hatred asked Gary "Ah...you use a loofah?". Dr. O was talking about intermittent fasting.

24 made a guest appearance in the "Fan Questions" extra for a few seconds.

They refused to answer the questions about Scare Bear and what Rusty and Billy were doing in the time machine in case they're able to continue the story.

They made a joke about telling people just enough in the commentary to get them excited and want more. (A “joke” haha)

During Prom, Pete and Billy would have studied the Push It video extensively. Pete would’ve entered the dance floor and “boxed it out” to make space. Billy would’ve walked in the circle nonchalantly. Then they would have recreated the entire dance.

[icarusbetide]

absolutely useless discourse: comparison of washington's thank you letters to jefferson & hamilton

today in the group chat i shared the letters that washington sent both jefferson and hamilton after their respective resignations, noting that they were really similar in their message. for some reason this sparked debate on which letter felt "warmer", with a surprisingly split vote?

washington particularly paid close attention to the words he used - Sir, Dear Sir, My Dear Sir all show different degrees of affection and he could use that subtlety to convey tone. i thought this debate might be interesting to throw out to people who know washington's letter-writing habits, or general 18th century letter standards. the real answer is that both letters are basically the same and this is a stupid question but hush. we're continuing the age-old tradition of pitting jefferson and hamilton against each other.

edit: omfg my friend just messaged me with "you idiot why didn't you make a poll" and i am soo stupid. probably too late but i'll still add it.

the pro-jefferson side of the chat was noting how he sounds much more obliging and deferent to jefferson, like "i cannot suffer you to leave your station without assuring you", or "I beg you to believe that I always am Dear Sir Your Sincere friend". obviously they break later on but at this point, he must've had great respect for him.

the pro-hamilton side said that that's proof he was closer to hamilton, and felt more comfortable being straightforward: "you may assure yourself of the sincere esteem" instead of "i beg you to believe". also, they pointed out how although he says that both of them fulfilled all their duties to his expectations, he says in only hamilton's that he can render it due to opportunities that "cannot deceive me".

any thoughts?

[glennk56]

Jefferson Mappin in 1980s & 1990s.

Jefferson Mappin is a Canadian actor born in Montreal. His film career started in 1978 with a small role in the Canadian/UK crime drama Tomorrow Never Comes starring Oliver Reed and Raymond Burr. I had never heard of him until I saw him in The Freshman a couple of weeks ago. At 6'5" he is always able to find work.

Jefferson Mappin

Most of Mappin's early work was in small roles in Canadian films that as of yet haven't been digitalized. The above stills are from the 1988 Canada/US Sitcom about a professional wrestler, Learning the Ropes, starring football player Lyle Alzado and often real professional wrestlers of the time made guest appearances. Only 13 episodes were produced. The first photo was from the pilot episode and it looks like it was from somebody's old VHS home recording. The next photo is a little better. Jefferson Mappin played a wrestler called Cheetah. It isn't known how many episodes he appeared in.

In 1990 Mappin played a pro wrestler again on an episode of the US/Canada crime drama, T and T, starring Mr. T of course.

Jefferson Mappin played an insane asylum resident in the film Beautiful Dreamers based on true events in 1990.

The Freshman, 1990, starring Marlon Brando and Matthew Broderick would fit in right here but Jefferson was barely visible in his scene, so I left it out any photo.

In 1991, Jefferson Mappin plays a real estate agent in the fantasy/drama White Light.

and Mappin as a dry-cleaning employee in an episode of Tropical Heat (nee Sweating Bullets).

Here is Jefferson Mappin as Fatty Rossiter in 1992 in Clint Eastwood's western, Unforgiven.

Here is Jefferson Mappin as a gun shop owner being questioned about a gun purchased in an episode of the TV series Counterstrike in 1993. I like the way he is pressed up against the counter.

Jefferson Mappin is a suspect responsible for a missing girl and human trafficking in this TV movie Spenser: Ceremony in 1993 made 5 years after the series Spenser for Hire ended.

Jefferson again as a gun shop owner in 1995 in an episode of the comedy/drama Due South.

Jefferson Mappin as a tech scientist who loses his memory in an episode of TekWar in 1995.

Jefferson Mappin as a Little League Coach in the TV Movie Shining Time Station: Second Chances in 1995.

Jefferson Mappin plays a Federal Agent in the Sci-Fi Action film Expect No Mercy in 1995.

[everydayyoulovemeless]

Living in Big MT With the Think Tank

➼ Word Count » 1.5k ➼ Warnings » Think Tank? ➼ Genre » Platonic/Romantic, Slice of Life?? ➼ A/N » Really into them again, so I figured I'd make this

Assuming that this happens after the events of Old World Blues, the majority of the Think Tank isn't going to be that opposed to you moving in. However, Klein is, and he'd do anything to get you extracted from the facility.

Living in the Sink isn’t going to allow you much privacy, but it’s the best you’re ever going to get. The only other place you’d have to sleep is wherever Dr. Dala suggests and it’s probably better to just stay with the talking objects than to unwillingly participate in whatever she has planned.

Dr. 0 likes to pretend that you're the worst thing to ever happen to him, especially if you're working with Mr. House, but most mornings he'll send Muggy down with coffee. It's mostly because he wants your mind to work faster so he can berate you with questions and shake you for ideas, but at least you get coffee out of it.

Dr. Klein will sometimes barricade the entranceway to the Think Tank so that you stay locked out.

If you're going to stay then Dr. 0 is going to have to replace the pip-boy with something... more appropriate. He'll take that thing away from you and build you a better, more advanced version that House wouldn't ever have been able to come up with. He'll have Mobius help him out in making the ultimate and perfect design of the pip-boy that talks to you like all the other Sink personalities. It's hit or miss what kind of personality he installs, but chances are it's either a mocking impression of House, or just 0.

Dr. 8 still can't really speak to you (no one ever bothered to fix him) but he does his best to get you away from Klein whenever he's upset at something. He likes to try and take his anger out on you... usually by strapping you down to a table and attempting to dissect you, but 8's normally there to calm him down before he can go through with anything.

Borous lets you keep Roxie in the Sink with you, as long as you promise not to bring her into the labs. He might specialize in animals, but he hates having to brush dog hair off of everything. Keep her in your quarters or he'll run experiments on the both of you.

The biggest downside to living here is that there's no bathroom to be found in the Sink, meaning you're going to ask one of them to build one for you. Most of them will give you a bucket and a stack of papers that still need to be shredded, but Dala would be willing to help you out. There's going to be a catch, of course, and there's a 70% chance she puts cameras of some sort in the room, but you get a useable bathroom by the end of it.

Whenever Mobius gets high he'll send you videos of himself on the TV in the Sink.

Blind Diode Jefferson will play jazz and blues music nonstop. Either that or he's giving you the most useless, outdated advice. The only way to get him to stop is by turning him off completely, but why would you do that? The best course of action for dealing with something like this is getting 8 to come down and tune him to a different radio station like the Mojave Radio, or even Galaxy News. He'll still talk, and the music won't turn off, but at least this way you can hear about the things happening on the other side of the country. It's something different, right?

Muggy sometimes wakes you up at like 6 because he needs you to drink coffee, tea--anything! Just wake up and use some of the mugs, please!

You're going to have to be very sneaky about reading anything in The Sink, as the Book Chute will talk continuously about you being a communist if he knows you have something that hasn't been washed out yet. It's best to just read in the Think Tank, however, that also runs the risk of one of the scientists calling you a nerd.

Dr. Klein will reluctantly ask you to gather information for him. Usually, it's something out in one of the labs in Big MT, but occasionally he'll ask you to bring back something new from the Mojave so that he has something new to look at.

Dala will very lovingly make your bed for you and tidy up the places in the Sink for you. She almost always has ulterior motives for doing so, but at least the areas clean?

Dr. Mobius has a bad habit of forgetting things, so to combat that, he'll write himself notes and stick them in random places around the Sink. He would put them up in the Think Tank, but he knows that the others would trash them the second they discovered them, so in the Sink, they go. At least, this way he can count on you to remind him.

If you left your brain in the jar, then he'll honestly be one of the only people you can confide in or rant to. He's fairly sane in his reasoning and is a decent therapist. Give him some more psychology books and he'll be even better at good advice. Just be careful Blind Diode Jefferson doesn't overhear you, he might get jealous you didn't come to him.

Every now and then, Klein, Dala, and Borous will put you in a cage. They'll tell you that there isn't anything to worry about and that it's just for fun, but they're liars and you're going to have to pray one of the other three will agree to get you out before they decide what they actually want to do with you.

Sometimes you'll wake up to like 10 different teddy bears in your bed. Then one of The Sink personalities will have to explain that Dala visited you while you were asleep. Comforting.

Light Switch #2 loves talking with your Brain. She thinks his intelligence is sooo hot, and if you agree to not move his jar from your room, she'll alert you to anything suspicious that happens in The Sink while you're away. Promise!

However, Light Switch #1 also happens to find your Brain to be an intriguing character as well, and will kindly offer to move him into the room with her. She'd just love to have a meaningful conversation with someone as smart as him.

Your Brain hates it and will beg you to move him anywhere else as long as he's away from either one of the light switches. He thinks the entire thing is weird and despises the fact that either of them would actually be into him.

Mobius worries a lot about you whenever you leave to explore or finish quests, so he always sends you off with a small army of robo-scorpions to accompany you in any way you may need. 8 also gets worried, but the most he can do is send you messages on your newly improved pip-boy.

The Sink in The Sink acts more like a mother than anyone else in the facility. She's always doting over you and making sure you're not falling victim to anything those disgraceful scientists may be up to. She's always making sure you go to bed at reasonable hours, aren't being taken advantage of, and are in healthy condition to continue doing the things you do. She especially makes sure you stay away from the Biological Research Station. Dear God, he might just corrupt you.

Dala and 0 are the only ones who feed you. Everyone else forgets that you still require something so uselessly time-consuming to survive. They only ever have expired food from 200 years ago, but it's better than nothing.

If you ever start talking to Borous, he'll go on for hours. It could honestly be about anything, but once you've got him started on something then he's not getting off of it. He'll go on about his time in high school, memories he has of Gabe, or what Klein claimed he was going to do to you once he finally found you.

The Auto-Doc is going to be the realest person there. If you want someone's honest opinion, he's the person to go to. Sometimes, he'll tell you what he thinks without you even asking, which can be annoying, but the Centralized Intelligence Unit will gladly shut him off for you.

Speaking of the Centralized Intelligence Unit, he lets you know of everything that happens. Most of the others will too, but he deems it a priority to let you know. One of the other appliances is talking shit? He's snitching. Please, let him turn them off. One of the doctors came down and did something sketchy? You'll be alerted as soon as you come back.

Both 8 and 0 always get concerned about the toaster being so close to where you sleep. Mobius isn't as bothered, but those two like to make sure he can't actually gain access to any kind of 'power reactor', so, you're welcome.

The Sink is probably not the safest place to live, but it gives you a ton of stories for you to tell when you go back to the Mojave. So, you can't complain too much.

[cartermagazine]

Today We Honor Roxie Roker

Roxie Albertha Roker was an amazing actress, and human being, famously known for playing Helen Willis on the hit sitcom “The Jeffersons.” You may also know Roxie Roker is the mother of the amazingly talented Lenny Kravitz.

Born in Miami, Florida; however, raised in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, Roxie Roker studied drama at Howard University along side Toni Morrison, actress Zaida Coles, stage director and playwright Shauneille Perry, and actor Graham Brown; all of whom were members of the university's theatre troupe, the Howard Players.

Her professional career with the Negro Ensemble Company was a huge success. She won an Obie Award in 1974 and was nominated for a Tony Award for her portrayal of Mattie Williams in The River Niger.

Roxie Roker was a reporter on WNEW-TV in New York in the 1970s and hosted a public affairs show for the station known as “Inside Bed-Stuy,” dealing with events in the Brooklyn neighborhood.

After having her breakout role as Helen Willis on hit sitcom “The Jeffersons,” she appeared in guest starring roles on many other hit shows from the 1970s through the 1990s, including "Stone in the River”, “Punky Brewster”, “Hangin' with Mr. Cooper”, “A Different World”, “Murder, She Wrote”, “The Love Boat”, “227”, “Fantasy Island”, and ABC Afterschool Specials.

Roxie Roker pushed boundaries and was known for being a children’s advocate, as a member of the Inter-Agency Council on Child Abuse and Neglect. She was cited by the city of Los Angeles for her community work.

CARTER™️ Magazine carter-mag.con #wherehistoryandhiphopmeet #historyandhiphop365 #cartermagazine #carter #roxieroker #blackhistory #blackhistorymonth #history #actress #staywoke #lennykravitz