#jacob the taxi driver

[rxnefairs]

this happens once every few lifetimes…

[etheral-moon]

The ultimate FuckBoy movies

[direwombat]

Timeline stuff for katc is sooooo funny like. Joseph tells jacob that syb is in John's custody while she's actively being rescued. Jacob sends Shaw back to the rangers station while syb is in the middle of clearing the outpost and Shaw comes back to find his allies dead and syb unconscious on the ground inside the station and jacob (who watched all that happen on camera) is just like "sorry to do this to ya bud, but I need you to bring her back to the Vets center"

All of this to say that shaw is just the la roux siblings personal ambulance lbr

[girlactionfigure]

This weeks hero of the week are the Chabad Rabbis of Amsterdam. The heroism displayed by some special people in Amsterdam during the pogrom on Thursday night is coming to light. Multiple Chabad rabbis from across the city jumped into action, including, but not limited to, Rabbis and Rebetzins Camissar, Pinkovitch, and Jacobs.

“As victims and concerned family members called in for help, and with fears that local taxi drivers were assisting the attackers, Chabad set up a control center and arranged a network of 50 local Israeli taxi drivers from across the Netherlands; these drivers, out of the goodness of their hearts, helped anyone who needed to reach the airport, hospital or one of the local Chabad houses, where victims had access to food and safety.” - @the.israel.files

Each week, End Jew Hatred and 2024 New Voices come together to choose a hero of the week. Inspiring and empowering people are propelling us all forward as we fight the fight to end Jew-hatred!

End Jew Hatred

[cloverdaisies]

⋆⁺.CHRISTMAS LIGHTS ︶꒷꒦︶ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚

⋆⁺. ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚

➸ ⋆⁺. [⛸️] description: the city was lonely, as they say home is where the heart is. as you return to see your childhood friends for the annual christmas get together, old faces resurface unhealed wounds that you wish you could rewind. ₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚

➸ ⋆⁺. member: juyeon x you

➸ ⋆⁺. genre: angst to fluff

➸ ⋆⁺. word count: 2k+

the moors were covered in a glistening blanket of the whitest snow, the sky overcast with a light grey hue whilst the trees lonely and desolate of leaves hung themselves over the landscape perfectly.

you were nervous, a slight shake in your hands as the cars heating blasted warm air into the passenger seat, driving to the cabin bar where your old friends had organised the yearly christmas get together.

you’d moved away to the city after the last christmas, leaving your small countryside village behind - unwilling to settle for a manual labor job and stay in the country forever. you prioritised your ambition and career over a humble life readily paved out for you.

however, admittedly you’d missed the village, the city was nothing in comparison, the sense of community you’d lost, the friends you’d left behind, life wasn’t the same without them.

or should you say… him.

“we’re here, ma’am.” the taxi driver that had drove you all these miles announced, you gave him a smile and your thanks before telling him to have a lovely christmas as he drove off into the distance of the high street, strung with christmas lights and foliage.

the small pub where you’d grew up was bustling with laughter and joy, the faint melody of “fairytale of new york” by the pogues leaking from the wooden doors.

“y/n!” you heard someone yell your name, a joyful juhaknyeon running out the doors of the pub with a cigarette settled above his ear like a ballpoint pen. he was wearing the flat cap you’d bought him as a joke last christmas, his pint of guinness spilling from the sides clumsily as he was so excited to see you.

“haknyeon!” you exclaimed, running to give him a hug and took in the scent of his familiar cologne, mixed with a strong scent of booze. “i’ve missed you so much!”

“you’ve missed us? we thought you’d forgotten all about us!” he laughed jokingly hitting you on the back, as he walked you into the bar where all your other friends were sat around a large booth towards the back.

you’d greeted everyone with a smile, reuniting with kevin and jacob asking you all about your city life and the things you’d gotten up to since you’d left. the bar was full of old regulars, the floors were carpeted in the same shade of red with gold accents highlighting the room.

“yeah, it’s been a pretty busy year for me.” you laughed, unable to focus on the conversation. you looked around the pub, checked the bar, but he was nowhere to be found.

“you’re looking for him, aren’t you?” hyunjae asked, sat next to you with his new wife chatting away to another one of the boys’ girlfriends eagerly.

“yeah.” you sighed, feeling let down that he hadn’t shown up, which considering how you’d left things last year you weren’t surprised.

“don’t get too down about it yet, he’s missed you, i’m sure he’ll make an appearance at some point.” hyunjae smiled with reassurance, taking a short sip of his pint before chipping into the conversation his wife was having.

“how’s the electrics company going?” you asked haknyeon, taking your mind off the entire thing as he smiled and began trailing off about all of his work dramas.

⋆⁺. ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚

it’d been 3 hours of chatting, catching up and laughter, however he still hadn’t shown up. the afternoon was soon turning evening, despite your belief in your ability to conceal your emotions, everyone noticed your solemn undertones - understanding why you weren’t in the greatest mood, considering the events of last christmas.

⋆⁺. ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚

🎄🕰️: 25TH OF DECEMBER: LAST YEAR

christmas day was coming to a close, you still hadn’t broke it to him yet, the love of your life, that you were leaving the village in the beginning of january.

the boy who’s name was juyeon did everything a boyfriend usually would for you, you were in love in such a way that words couldn’t describe. he was a bricklayer in the town, living his life humbly hoping to give you the best life he could.

on the evening of christmas day, you’d been sat watching christmas films with him sat in his arms guiltily revising the city job offer you’d received just 3 days prior.

“y/n?” the boy next to you hummed “i have to tell you something.”

you looked up at his deep brown eyes with guilt, his white sweater complimenting his gold wristwatch and necklace.

“i have to tell you something too.” you replied exhaling a deep breath, his expression looking at you with so much love you’d almost choked on your words.

“you go first.” his hand gently brushing your spine, running up to your shoulder as you gulped nervously.

“i’ve been offered a job in the city.” you concisely formed the sentence, breaking the news off from your guilt heavy conscience.

“what?- you’re leaving?” his expression changed to an unclear frown, his eyes confused and almost hurt with the sudden news. “what about us?”

“i don’t know juyeon, but it’s an offer i can’t refuse.” you tried to explain your decision and at heart he already knew it was the best decision for you.

“it’s okay. just know if you ever want to come back and live here. I’m here for you.” he sighed, giving you a tight hug, his eyes glancing down to his pockets.

little did you know, there was another offer you wouldn’t have refused lying in there next to his car keys. a small crushed velvet box with a diamond ring, one he could never gift to you - since you were leaving for good. the crumpled speech he’d revised would later be littered with tear drops, his life crumbling apart.

🎄🕰️BACK TO PRESENT DAY

⋆⁺. ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚

you got up to go get another drink from the bar, ordering a beverage to settle the nerves that tangled like knots in your stomach. the feeling of emptiness opening like a dark void in your conscience.

the pub doors opened, a familiar tall figure in a black trench coat stepping inside, the scent of a fresh cigarette lingering in the air, immediately turning your head to the scent of old spice and home.

he’d made it, his jet black hair, beautiful brown eyes all stood before you as he wiped his boots on the welcome matt, his jacket catching flakes of fallen snow.

your heart either shattered, or put itself back together - you couldn’t tell which as it was such an unclear feeling of overwhelming nature you’d never felt before.

he locked eyes with you, just for a few seconds as if he considered saying hello or running back out the door. taking hesitant steps towards the bar where you were.

“it’s lovely to see you again.” juyeon smiled slightly, battling internalised emotions he’d tried to avoid. leaning over the bar and avoiding the contact of your eyes which looked up at his face brightly.

“same goes for you. how have you been?” the confidence you’d tried to assert on your voice leaving only above a whisper.

“i can’t say i’ve been great.” he chuckled in an almost bittersweet way, running his fingers through his neatly styled hair with a sigh.

“that’s not good, i’m sure things will be better for you next year, at least i hope.” you tried to think of a kind response, instead probably coming across as the most patronising piece of shit in the process.

“i hope so too.” he smiled, as you collected your drink and turned around to see every single pair of your friends eyes gawking at the situation.

“can you guys make yourselves any more obvious?” you laughed placing your drink on the table in embarrassment and sitting back down next to hyunjae.

juyeon soon came to sit beside you, the group greeting him briefly and apologising for his lateness. he had work that day, you didn’t know how you’d forgotten being so caught up in your selfish little world.

“how is work?” you asked nervously as conversations resumed around you, the tension between the two of you building intensely.

“i got promoted to site manager.” he smiled, as you congratulating him with a laugh knowing how much he’d wanted to get that position.

“how’s the city?” he scratched the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his you’d picked up after years of knowing him.

“to be honest? not great. i miss home, i don't really have anyone there." you took a sip of your drink, eyes remaining on the polished wooden table with regret.

“well like i said you’re always welcome to come back.” he grumbled, looking around to everyone else’s conversations at the table, his eyes wandering to the christmas tree in the corner - coated in a thick gold tinsel with baubles strung messily across the tree.

“SPEECH. SPEECH. SPEECH.” The boys began chanting all of a sudden, taunting Sangyeon who appeared to be a little more tipsy than the rest his ears tinting a light a pink as he took a sip of his lager.

“Okay. Okay.” He calmed down their excitement before standing up in front of the the large table with his drink in hand. “First of all, I’d like to thank you all for coming this year and I think it’s important to address everyone’s hard work this year. I would like to thank Haknyeon for his persistence to plan this, I know we only all see each other driving past on our jobs but it’s refreshing to see you all face to face. Y/n thank you for travelling so far to see us, although things are different since you’ve been here last. It’s lovely to have everyone together. To a good christmas.” He raised his pint in the air as the boys howled in cheer, taking a sip and sitting back down in his place at the table.

“Thanks, Sangyeon. That was great.” You looked at the man across the table with a genuine smile, his gaze glancing between you and Juyeon before he returned the smile with ruddy cheeks.

As you began catching up with Younghoon, he seemed to bring up how he’d recently done a job for your parents, reinstalling their bathroom. The sound of their names resurfacing the guilt for leaving them.

“You sound like you need to come home.” Younghoon stated as he spotted tears welling at your waterline, quickly moving your hand to dab them away. You felt a hand gently touch your leg, containing yourself from jolting backwards in shock, you discreetly looked down to find Juyeon’s hand gently caressing your leg - something he used to do a lot to calm you down in public if you felt a bit nervous.

“I probably do.” You giggled slightly, a nervous hiccup triggering a laugh of adoration from Juyeon.

“Do it. Come home, I need a copywriter for my company.” Haknyeon looked across the table genuinely, turning heads with the statement.

“Really?” You looked at your phone slightly, (25) missed calls from your boss glowing on the screen since he’d been trying to call you in.

“Of course.” He laughed jovially in reply, sliding his phone across the pub table to show you the post for a copywriter he’d listed on a job site. “The pay probably isn’t as much as you currently make, but it might mean you get to come home and when my company expands I’m sure that will change.”

You smiled at Haknyeon, considering the post in your head. Did you really want to come home? Would you be really losing that much money with the prices of living in the city?

“Honestly-” The bell for last drinks at the bar sounded, as the boys cheered it was time for home, the bar soon closing. Everyone got up to leave, saying their goodbyes with hugs and words of sentiment for each other.

“Well, until next year.” Juyeon laughed, bittersweetly walking you out to the the sheltered entrance where the cab that would soon drive you back to city was parked it’s engine growling, it’s lights brightly shining on to the cobbled high streets.

“I don’t think.. I want to leave.” You felt your eyes beginning to water again, the thought of going back to the loneliness of the city taunting you at the back of your mind.

“Then stay. There’s a job here for you-” Juyeon erratically told you, the cigarette he’d freshly lit falling to to his sides with his arms.

“It’s not that, Juyeon. I got such an amazing opportunity in the city-” You began to argue, thinking of how amazing the job offer was in the city, installed with the false hope of climbing up the ladder and becoming an important figure to a significant company.

“But you heart is here. You want home, you know you do. So don’t waste that opportunity to be here again. Don’t walk out on me again.” He begged you, a strand of his jet black hair falling in front of his face, his eyes sparkling down on you with diamonds of hope glistening in his irises.

“I love you. I still do.” He suddenly came out with the statement, stunning your speech, knowing at heart he wasn’t trying to sabotage your career he just wanted your happiness; he wanted you back.

The mistletoe hung above you ironically, snow beginning to fall lightly the temperature dropping, however the feeling of warmth and comfort keeping you cozy in the small entrance way to the pub. Juyeon looked up to observe the plant hanging above you, before leaning in to touch his lips to yours, sealing a kiss that asserted so much passion almost his final beg to get you back.

As you parted, his hand resting against your cheek, you quickly broke and began sprinting towards the cab looking back at him, he stared in shock and defeat as he saw you looking back with watery tears.

“I’m going back to get my stuff.” You yelled to him, ready to return to the city and bring your things back to the place you belonged. He dashed over to you in the snow, immediately dropping the burning cigarette in his hand to embrace you in the tightest hug he’d ever given you.

“Keep the bed warm for me in the morning.” You laughed, causing him to smile, a singular tear of vulnerability falling down his cheek as he looked down at you with amounts of love you’ve never felt before.

“I will. I’ll start putting the christmas tree up too, ready for you.” He joked back, the smile on his face shining as if he’d never smiled since you were last with him. You quickly jumped to give him a final kiss, a fire relighting in your stomach as if it was the best feeling in the world.

“See you soon.” He opened the cab door for you, closing it as you got in safely, not forgetting to give you a peck on the cheek before gently closing the door.

As the snow fell across the village and street lamps lit up the small high-street stores you grew up around, an onlooker smiled in his flat cap having watched the whole scene with his cigarette and guinness in hand. His plan to bring everything back together had worked and would be reveal it to anyone? Of course not. Haknyeon chuckled, drinking the last of his pint before walking to Juyeon, the two walking the high street home laughing and joking as if everything had never changed.

⋆⁺. ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚

a/n: hi daisies! i’m yet to proofread this so cut me slack for any grammatical errors. this took me so long and i hope you love this little world as much as i do. merry christmas 🤍

[lilyletham]

A Friend on Thanksgiving

Just a small little story I didn't have fleshed out enough to write as a full blown fic. Sneaking it in right at the end of the holiday. Hope your Thanksgiving was a good one. <3

Pairing: Jacob Palmer(Crazy Stupid Love) x you

This isn't proofread I'm just blurting out my ideas as they come, keep that in mind!

You just finished hosting a big Thanksgiving get-together at your house, and the last remaining family members have left. It was a great time: food, music, wine, and good company.

It was late in the night, and you were happily finishing off the wine on your couch, snuggling into a fleece blanket and dressed in comfy night clothes, when you hear a car pull up outside your neighbor Jacob's house.

Curious, you glance out your window and see him getting out of what looks like a taxi. You never paid him much mind other than when he would obnoxiously stumble back to his house at ungodly hours, usually with a giggling, scantily-clad woman in tow. Sometimes you'd see him at the shared mailbox, hungover and wearing sunglasses, and he'd give you a respectful nod before slithering back into his house to recover from the previous night's antics.

This time was different, however. He got out of the taxi, paid the driver and walked to his door, his body swaying back and forth as he clumsily tried to stick in his key. He was alone tonight, and you wondered why. The thought crept up in your mind that perhaps he didn't have any family or friends to share the holiday with. It made your heart twist with sympathy. He may have been a bit of a playboy who didn't often respect noise levels, but he didn't deserve to spend Thanksgiving alone. You felt like you needed to remedy that.

So you slipped on some comfy shoes and walked over to his house across the street. In the window of the lavish building(which for some reason he didn't bother to close the blinds) you saw him sitting at his kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal and reading the back of the box with a pen, probably doing the word puzzle. Your heart clenched. You took a deep breath and knocked on his door.

He answered the door after a minute, peeking his head around the corner. You apologized for knocking so late in the night, and then you reminded him that you were his neighbor from across the street. "Yeah, I know who you are. Why are you here?" He asked, looking slightly weary in his eyes. "I wanted to know if you would like to uh, come over for a plate of food? There's tons of leftovers and I don't have enough space in my fridge." You lied, you had plenty of room. You wanted him to have a proper Thanksgiving meal, not a bowl of cereal for dinner.

He looked slightly taken aback by your offer, and at first politely refused. You were having none of that, so you insisted. He finally agreed and told you he'd be over shortly. You smiled at went back to your house to warm up some of the leftover turkey and sides. You brought out another bottle of wine for good measure.

About ten minutes later he knocked on your door dressed in comfy sweatpants and a casual t-shirt, a far cry from his fashionable Romeo attire you're used to seeing him in. It was kinda…nice? You welcomed him to your cozy home which stood in start contrast to his cold and clinical bachelor pad. He sat down a little awkwardly at your kitchen table as you brought him a steaming plate of Thanksgiving dinner, filled to the brim with all the delicious homemade goodness: turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, roasted veggies, cranberry sauce and of course, homemade gravy.

His eyes went wide with almost childlike excitement. He took his first bite and groaned. "This is amazing, thank you so much…"

"It was no problem, really. Happy Thanksgiving Jacob." You replied, sipping your wine and smiling.

He put down his fork and looked away for a moment. Was he…crying? His shoulders started to shake and you looked at him with concern. "Are you okay?" You asked.

He quickly composed himself and wiped at the corner of his eye. "Yeah, no I just…I haven't had something like this in a very long time. My family doesn't really… do Thanksgiving you know? Not anymore anyway." You nodded in understanding, not needing him to elaborate. You just wanted him to enjoy the meal and the company of a friend on Thanksgiving.

You offered him some wine and the both of you fell into easy conversation at the table, laughing and sharing stories. He cleared three(!) plates and still had room left for pumpkin pie. At some point he helped you clean up the kitchen and you took the conversation(and wine) to the living room. By the time the night started to wind down it was nearly two in the morning.

You both said your goodbyes and just as you were going to shut the door he pulls you into a hug. "Thank you…so much. You have no idea how much this meant to me tonight." He said with his head buried in your shoulder. Your heart ached at how such a simple kindness could affect him so greatly. You wondered how lonely he really was. You told him he was welcome to stop by anytime for a meal.

From that point on, Jacob made the point to visit you at least once every week for a homemade meal. Sometimes he'd stop by and offer to help you cook, even though he often joked he could burn water. Something light and comfortable was developing between the two of you that was special, and with the holiday season in full swing, you wondered where it would take you next.

To be Continued!

[austin-in-taiwan]

August 7 - Tainan - > Taipei (Final Day) - Tea House, Final Dinner

Today was our last day in Taiwan before departing for home. We met at 9:30 AM on the bus to make our way back to Taipei. Since we had already used our high-speed rail tickets after the Typhoon, we took the 5-hour bus ride back up the west coast of Taiwan. Halfway, we stopped at a rest area to get lunch. Jacob, Eli, Jack and I had MOS Burger (a Japanese burger chain restaurant), and I got the rice bun chicken sandwich, which was okay. 

When we arrived in Taipei, we went to a tea house. The tea-making ceremony was interesting, as the servers had a meticulous process for serving the tea. The tea was bitter, and many people at my table didn't enjoy it much, but I didn't think it was too bad. I am not a tea drinker, so I have little experience with it. After the first batch made by the servers, we could brew the tea ourselves, so I enjoyed doing that a few times. 

After the tea house, we went to our final farewell dinner. It was an excellent local restaurant that served Taiwan cuisine. It was lazy Susan style, so we got to try many different dishes. I enjoyed my last Xiao long bao, shumai, and several other classic cuisines. We also gave Peter, our tour guide, a few gifts at dinner. We all signed his Florida Gators tour guide flag, signed a card, and made a collage of photos from the trip for him. Peter was a fantastic tour guide and an integral part of the amazing experience I had here in Taiwan, so I was super glad we could get him something nice before we left. Also, we signed a card for and took a picture with our bus driver, Terry!

Once we checked back into our hotel, a small group went out to get an extra bag for some of the souvenirs we bought. We took the metro for the last time to Ximen, where we had our first tour in Taiwan. I got a small duffel bag for cheap and filled it with tons of Chinese and Taiwanese snacks from a PX mart to bring home. I can't wait to have my family and friends at home try some exciting things I got to try while here.

Final Reflection

I wasn't exactly sure what to expect when initially coming to Taiwan. Now that the trip is over, I am so glad I decided to go on this study abroad trip. I loved everything we did. The culture in Taiwan is fascinating, and its history is unlike any country I've been to. In Taiwan, you can experience the history of cultures from its previous occupancy of Japan, China, or even old European inhabitants. I specifically enjoyed going through temples and learning about Buddhism, Confucianism, and other celebrated religions, which are rarely seen in the U.S. One of my favorite experiences was touring the monastery in Kaohsiung and eating a silent lunch with the Buddhist monks. 

One thing that was amazing about UF's Taiwan program is the freedom and free time that we get to do our exploration of Taiwan's culture and impact. I got to take time to explore my interests and then do independent research on that topic. My first project on Taiwanese technological innovation was one of my favorite days on the trip. I got to lock in on my specific interests related to my major and aspirations. I then wrote my second independent excursion to a baseball game I went to. Researching and writing about it taught me how important it is to Taiwan and its culture. The importance of baseball is something that I learned because of the independent assignment; otherwise, it would've gone unseen during my trip. Overall, I got so much out of having the freedom to do my own projects instead of being limited starkly to an itinerary.

One of my aspirations for the trip was to get more comfortable with my Chinese. I definitely did. I got to push my limits when ordering food, bartering, asking for directions, talking to locals, etc. One of the trip's highlights was talking to the taxi driver from the airport when I landed in Taiwan. Although I got more comfortable during this trip, I would like to be much more conversational next time I visit a Mandarin-speaking country.  Unfortunately, after this trip, I no longer have room in my schedule to take more classes, and I have finished my minor in Chinese. However, this trip has inspired me to find ways to continue practicing and getting better. I won't give up on my Chinese studies despite no longer taking classes. 

Overall, I recommend this trip to any UF student, whether you have taken Chinese or not. Plenty of students on this trip didn't know Chinese at all, and we all had a great time learning while also having lots of fun. I became friends with everyone on the trip. We all came from different circles and groups at UF but became close by the end. The itinerary was a perfect mix of structure, free time, education, and fun. Yeh Laoshi and our tour guide Peter were informative and made this trip one I will remember for the rest of my life.

[gecko-with-a-greatsword]

people who watch secret sleepover society please help

I faintly remember two streams they did but I cannot find them again and I'm beginning to think I made them up. One was a game where you play as hitchhiker and travel around meeting interesting characters. I feel like there was a part where they were at a trailer park or something with like teens who were kicked out or something? The other one I think was more recent and you play as a taxi driver and you pick up people and talk to them and there's like dialogue choices? All I remember was like a young woman character talking about her horrible boyfriend and Jacob and Julia just being like yikes. If anyone else remembers these streams or can find the vods please let me know

EDIT: I found them the taxi game is in the second Ukraine itch.io bundle and the hitchhiker game is in Julia and Jacob Secure the perimeter in SECURITY BOOTH

[ladyorlandodream]

Wonderful Tonight

AO3 link

*I needed to get this story off my chest and out of my head. All because of a song. This is the first thing I write about Abbott Elementary and in particular about my favorite couple: work wives. Hope you like it.*

.........................

_It's time for National Teacher of the Year. Barbara is among the finalists. Her colleagues are with her, including Melissa. Especially Melissa._

.........................

I hear the keys turning nervously inside the lock, she rushes into my hotel room with her dress resting on her forearm, still covered by the protective laundry bag.

“They promised me it would be ready this morning, not that late. I'm so sorry, Barb. I'll be quick, I swear” she apologizes, mortified, as if the delay were hers.

I smile at her as I rummage inside the suitcase “Don't worry. It's not your fault. The bathroom is free. There is still enough time”

She grabs her makeup bag and, before slamming the door behind her she turns to me “How do you manage to stay so calm today? Your big night?”

“Because my best friend is with me”

She blushes, shaking her head: “Anyway, I'm sorry Gerald couldn't come”

“Me too” I lie “But, again, I am not alone. But if you stay on the threshold of that door much longer then we will be really late"

I hear the water from the shower running, I try to get into my dress. What I chose with her, or rather, what she chose for me. A long bodycon dress that ends in a mermaid gown. To show off my shoulders and collarbones, she claimed it had to be off-shoulder. All red “Because it is perfect for your beautiful skin color” she told me.

I hear the bathroom door open just a little, and a green eye peeps out of the crack "I am almost done!" she alerts me then gasps upon seeing me “My God, Barb. You are stunning!”

I iron the dress nervously with my hands: “Do you think? Isn't that a bit too much?"

“Hon, it's perfect for you, your curves, and tonight's event. You have to shine, more than anyone else"

It's early in the evening.

She's already wearing her dress, a black ball gown, halter strapped. The best shape to highlight her breasts.

She puts on her makeup and brushes her long red hair. She looks at her reflection in the mirror, through the door, not entirely convinced of her appearance.

And then she asks me: "Do I look alright?" as if my opinion was the most important thing.

And I say: "Yes, you look wonderful tonight"

Her reflection smiles at me "I don't want to make you look bad"

“You could never”

We take our respective handbags and we go to the party.

Throughout the taxi journey, we remain silent. We pay the driver and get off a few meters from the White House. Other beautifully dressed guests are getting out of the cars.

I swallow with my heart in my throat. She can somehow sense my anxiety.

She stands in front of me and places her hands on my shoulders.

“It doesn't matter how the evening goes because you, Barbara Howard, are My National Teacher of the Year, no” she corrects herself “of ALL YEARS” she concludes by giving me a hug.

I hold her tight, I wish I could tell her what it means to me to have her by my side, but the words stop in my throat.

I am only able to answer “Thank you, Melissa”

She then extends her arm to me and I intertwine mine with it as we walk toward the gate. A long red carpet makes its way to the main entrance of the White House.

Photographers and guests parade.

I feel like everyone turns to see this beautiful lady that's walking around with me.

I squeezed closer to her.

And then she asks me, "Do you feel alright?"

And I say, "Yes, I feel wonderful tonight"

I feel wonderful because I see the love light in your eyes and the wonder of it all.

It's that…you just don't realize how much I love you…

For all these things, another life I'll have to wait. It would have been perfect if only God had wanted it.

Inside the building, we find our colleagues. Janine was already excited with a handkerchief in hand. Jacob also takes me by the arm. Gregory leads the way “I've already asked where our table is. We're not very far from the stage." Ava walks up to me, pushing Melissa away, and with the phone in hand she says, “Hey, y’all. I'm live in Washington with one of the National Teacher of the Year finalists. You heard me right! Miss Howard belongs to Abbott! MY school! Envious?"

“You don't own the school, Ava” Mel tries to intervene

Annoyed Ava pushes the phone away from our faces “Whatever…This will significantly increase my followers and the superintendent won't be able to kick me out. Ok, now I'm going to check out the competition” she flips her hair and looks around for the other finalists walking briskly.

We sit down at our table, Gregory and Jacob adjusting chairs for Janine, Melissa, and me.

The evening begins with music and continues with other awards and performances.

I try to eat, but every now and then agitation envelops me and I respond to it with a sip of white wine. She, who by now knows all my strengths and weaknesses, which she can read behind my smiles, squeezes my hand on the table comforting me. She doesn't need to talk. We don't need to talk to each other.

I watch the stage. I feel her gaze on me. I lean slightly towards her, and without looking at her, I continue to observe the show "Do I have something on my dress?"

"Absolutely no. You look wonderful and I am so proud of you” she replies with utmost naturalness and sincerity.

Janine starts to fidget “It's time. The last award”

“Oh my God, know that I will scream. If they call your name, I'll scream,” Jacob exclaims.

“This goes livestream” Ava turns the camera on her phone towards the presenters.

“And here we are at what perhaps, indeed certainly, is the most eagerly awaited award of the evening: Teacher of the Year. This year's five finalists are such exceptional and special people that it was really very difficult for the committee to choose the winner. As every year we look for a person who has:

The ability to inspire children from all backgrounds and abilities

The respect of colleagues, students, and parents

Activities in the community

The ability to fulfill the duties of the award”

Jacob softly says “Barbara, you are all of that and more”

“Thank you, sweetie”

The presenter continues "We remind you that in addition to the cash prize, the National Teacher of The Year spends a year away from his, her, their teaching duties to serve as a spokesman and advocate for the teaching profession"

A year away, I was so distracted by the evening that I forgot about that part. At those words, which somehow come as a death sentence, I turn to Melissa.

Her eyes are watery.

“Mel…”

“I know”

“For this latest award, I invite the First Lady to the stage and she will open the envelope with the winner's name on it”

We all get tense.

The First Lady climbs the few steps, thanks the presenter and the audience: “I'm very excited and I won't get lost in useless words. I just want to thank all the teachers and principals not only of the schools present here but of all the schools in our area for the immense work they are doing to build the future of the new generations. Very well…and the title for National Teacher of the Year goes to…” she nervously opens the envelope and smiles “Barbara Howard from Willard R. Abbott Elementary School of Philadelphia”

Jacob and Ava jump up screaming. Janine starts crying. Gregory immediately stands to help me up. I still haven't figured out what happened. I don't recognize the name that has just been enunciated, I don't see the winner getting up from the neighboring tables.

Melissa, in tears, takes my shoulders and lifts me up "Honey, you won!"

“What?”

“You won, love, you are the Teacher of the Year”

I look around, and everyone claps at me. Gregory takes my arm and approaches me on the staircase.

I go on stage, I'm one meter from the First Lady. She reaches out to shake my hand and then hugs me “Congrats, Miss Howard”. A valet gives me the coveted prize and shows me the microphone.

I explore around with my eyes, all those people in silence waiting for something from me, a word, a gesture. My heart is racing.

I look towards my table, and I focus on her who has her hands crossed on her chest, proud. I focus on her who smiles and nods as if giving me permission to speak.

“Thank you. I…thank you, so much. I can't believe it” I stare at the award “This is not mine, this award is for Abbott. There is teamwork behind this award. I have to dedicate it to you” I continue looking at my working family “For my colleagues, for my students, past, present, and future. For those who still believe that it is from education behind the desks that we will be able to create a better future. We are not just teachers, we are admin. We are social workers. We are therapists. We are second parents. Sometimes, we're even first"

Janine smiles behind the emotion, she sure remembers these words of mine.

“In particular, I have to thank who has been by my side, even through adversity, during many school battles and for most of my teaching career: Melissa Schemmenti. Please” my throat closes up, and a sob of sadness interrupts my speech “Don't give away my chair in the staff room to anyone while I'm away”

She wipes her eyes as I read her lips "I could never"

“And, finally, to my kids, my students: don't you ever, ever give up on you because I will NEVER give up on you”

The entire audience stands to applaud. The emotion is too strong for me to keep talking. "Thank you" I finish and get off the stage.

My colleagues compete to give me hugs and congratulations. I feel in a whirlwind of emotions “This is such a perfect day and I'm glad I am spending it with you, guys”

The evening continues with an after-party. Melissa holds my hand and I hold her. I'm afraid to let her go as if I were to leave for my year as a spokesman that same evening. Is she feeling the same way? Oh, God, maybe I shouldn't have won this award.

It's time to go home now and I've got an aching head. The alcohol. We take a cab.

“Rest your head upon my shoulder, hon,” she tells me softly.

Her scent envelops me and without realizing it I fall asleep along the way.

She kisses my head to wake me up. It's so soulful.

We enter my room. She wants to help me to bed before going to her room.

I wish I could tell you that I've dreamed of this night, that now that you're here I want to hold you and touch you and taste you and make you want no one but me, but then, while she's about to pick her things I say: "My darling, you are wonderful tonight"

She stops and turns to me.

She comes over and looks me right in the eyes. She places her hands on my hips.

“Could I hold you close beside me?”

I smile at her “Could I hold you for all time?”

[rxnefairs]

And I wouldn’t I’d marry you marry me either. with paper rings.

[yetisidelblog]

Chip in to support Rashida Tlaib and Zohran Mamdani’s bold leadership

The only Palestinian American serving in Congress, Rep. Rashida Tlaib is fighting for human rights alongside New York State Assemblymember Zohran Mamdani. Now Zohran is running for New York City mayor, an office that represents more people than most U.S. senators do. 

Throughout his career Zohran has fought for the working class, including hunger striking alongside taxi drivers to achieve more than $450 million in transformative debt relief, winning over $100 million in the state budget for increased subway service and a successful fare-free bus pilot, and organizing New Yorkers to defeat a proposed dirty power plant.

Zohran and Rashida are both democratic socialists pushing for transformative changes to help everyday people thrive—including universal childcare, affordable housing, and workers’ rights. They don’t take any money from corporate PACs, relying instead on grassroots support.

Please split a donation today between Rashida Tlaib and Zohran Mamdani’s bold campaigns to save lives at home and abroad. 

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[xtruss]

The Electrobat Taxi, One of the World’s First All-Electric Car, was Popular with Members of High Society in Late-19th Century Manhattan, New York. Photograph By New-York Tribune/Library of Congress

The Forgotten History of New York’s First Electric Taxi Fleet—In The 1800s

More Than a Century Before Teslas Hit The Road, Battery-Powered Taxicabs Zipped Silently Through The Streets of Manhattan.

— By Christopher Klein | June 04, 2024

The bustling streets of 19th-century Manhattan had a horse problem. The estimated 150,000 horses roaming the city each produced 22 pounds of waste daily. The inauguration of New York City’s motorized taxicab service on March 27, 1897, promised a cleaner solution. Because Gotham’s first taxis weren’t powered by gasoline—but by electricity. It turns out that the car of the future is actually from the past.

An Electric Start

The idea of electric vehicles gliding around New York City in the 1890s might sound like a steampunk-inspired fever dream, but battery-powered automobiles outsold their internal combustion counterparts at the dawn of the automotive age. Electric cars were quiet, clean, and easy to drive. “Back then, you were lucky if a gas car started in the morning,” says Dan Albert, author of Are We There Yet? The American Automobile Past, Present, and Driverless. “It was noisy, polluting, and rickety, whereas an electric car started with a flip of the switch.”

During the 19th century, when electricity began to be used practically, it seemed capable of overcoming any challenge. “If you asked people on the street what was going to happen, they would have said that electricity is this magic force,” says electric car historian David A. Kirsch, author of The Electric Vehicle and the Burden of History. “We harnessed it for light. We harnessed it for traction through the trolley. It’s spreading everywhere, and now it’s going to take us around.”

The Pioneering Electrobat

When Nikola Tesla was the only Tesla making headlines, the Electrobat emerged as the first commercially viable electric vehicle. Crafted by Philadelphia engineers Henry Morris and Pedro Salom in 1894, this 2,500-pound car was propelled by a lead-acid battery, achieving top speeds of 15 miles per hour and covering distances of up to 25 miles on a single charge.

Furthermore, the pair devised an ingenious battery-swapping system inside a former Broadway roller skating rink to keep its cabs in continuous operation. Working with the efficiency of a NASCAR pit crew, employees maneuvered vehicles with elevators and hydraulics as an overhead crane, plucked out the depleted 1,000-pound batteries, and inserted fresh ones. The process took only three minutes. “It was much faster than changing a horse team and probably as fast as what we would today associate with filling a tank of gas,” Kirsch says.

The duo’s Manhattan cab service rapidly gained popularity, especially among the upper echelons of society. Rather than selling their cars, Morris and Salom opted to lease their vehicles on a monthly or per-ride basis through their venture, the Electric Wagon & Carriage Company.

The taxi fleet experienced substantial growth, expanding from a mere dozen vehicles in 1897 to over 100 by 1899. The Electrobat proved the ideal city car with its rapid acceleration and noiseless ride. However, its speed and quietness posed unforeseen challenges. In May 1899, the press reported that cab driver Jacob German had become the first automobile operator arrested for speeding after whizzing down Lexington Avenue at 12 miles per hour. Weeks later, an electric taxi fatally struck real estate broker Henry Bliss as he stepped off an Upper West Side streetcar. The first pedestrian killed by an automobile never heard the Electrobat coming.

The Bubble Bursts

Morris and Salom found new backing from wealthy investors, notably New York financier William Whitney, known for his success in electrifying the city’s streetcars. Under Whitney’s leadership, the company merged with the electric street railways and battery manufacturing firms to form an integrated, nationwide electric transportation network.

The Electric Vehicle Company swiftly expanded its taxi operations to major cities like Philadelphia, Chicago, and Boston, eventually becoming the nation’s largest automobile manufacturer. However, its rapid expansion proved unsustainable. Operations outside New York were poorly run, and investors felt swindled when a New York Herald investigation in late 1899 revealed the Electric Vehicle Company had fraudulently secured a loan. The company’s stock plummeted, and the enterprise was virtually bankrupt by 1902.

Electric Cars Lose Power

The company’s collapse sent shockwaves through the investment community and cast a shadow over the future of electric vehicles.

“The thing that killed it is not really the idea, the technology, or the business model,” Albert says. “It was the shadiness of the wheeler-dealers behind it.”

A devastating fire destroyed a significant portion of the fleet. Coupled with the economic turmoil of the Panic of 1907, this dealt a final blow to electric cabs in New York City just as gasoline-powered vehicles gained momentum in the market. The same year, local businessman Harry Allen introduced a taxi service with 65 gasoline-powered cabs imported from France. Within a year, his fleet swelled to 700 vehicles.

The internal combustion engine would drive the next American century, but battery power is slowly returning after a long detour. When 25 all-electric taxis began operation on the streets of New York in 2022, the car of the future arrived—again.

[thesinglesjukebox]

ST. VINCENT - "BROKEN MAN"

We like this era a bit better...

[6.00]

Harlan Talib Ockey: In 2014, St. Vincent released a self-titled album, saying “the hardest thing for a musician to do is sound like yourself.” In 2017, she decided that was too hard and pivoted to glossy, scripted “pop-level intention.” (For the record, I still liked it.) In 2021, another pivot to ‘70s cosplay. (Not a fan.) Now, after ten years, she finally returns to something that sounds like an evolution of the St. Vincent concept. “Broken Man” is the primal, slow-burning, ‘90s-industrial brother of “Bring Me Your Loves” and “Birth in Reverse”. The bass is a half-dead cement mixer. The guitars are a cannon blast. The drums are pedestrian enough to have not required a celebrity guest, honestly. With “Broken Man” posing like St. Vincent’s last two albums never happened, you could argue that this is a strange and disappointing step back. And in some ways, it is; the idea that an artist might be disowning their own progress is upsetting, and I would feel a little better knowing there were signs of Masseduction elsewhere on the album. For now, however, I’m choosing to say “neat, I loved St. Vincent (2014), this seems pretty cool.”  [7]

Katherine St. Asaph: An exhibition of sudden swerves: the thrilling swerve when the guitars come in to shatter the skeletal restraint, something you knew was coming but not that sudden or that big; and the slight letdown of a swerve when the song turns out to not be Annie Clark indulging her inner Trent Reznor, but Annie Clark indulging her inner Mac Aladdin. [8]

Alfred Soto: Annie's Clark restlessness is a strength regardless of the consequences. "Who do you think I am?" she asks wearily over skronked-up guitars, as if tired of reminding us. The rest of "Broken Man" uses Clark's impatient jabbing warble as a series of provocations. It could move faster. [7]

Leah Isobel: I don't get it. [5]

Hannah Jocelyn: For the last decade, if I’ve wanted to listen to St. Vincent, I’ve just listened to Torres imbuing Annie Clark’s fuzziness with extravagant theater kid energy (the highest compliment I can give). But Torres’ album this year was a surprising disappointment, so St. Vincent wins this round with a “Dance Yrself Clean”-sized volume jump and a crunchy, restless arrangement. Not to put two genderless guitar gods against each other, of course!   [7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: At this point I'm getting nostalgic for St. Vincent albums I didn't even like – the Goats Head Soup worship of the last record did not inspire joy in me but at least it was an ethos of some kind (and I'll stand by "Down" as some of the finest electric sitar playing by a white person in the 21st century.) This is just rote alt rock fodder, a vague sketch of industrial textures without any hook or distinguishing characteristic other than the loudness of Dave Grohl's fills.   [3]

Nortey Dowuona: The drum breaks from Dave Grohl, Cian Riordan and Mark Gulliana take place in three places; the first drum fill, the second bridge programming, the outro groove. The final one swallows the first threadbare drum programming, largely unable to hold the weight of St. Vincent's thin topline, bulky guitar and thinned-out synthesizers. The melody is novel, floating atop the simple synth riff and becoming foggy and weepy at the bridge. Then the sudden avalanche of sound in the outro groove kicks the song into gear, enlivening a tense arrangement and adding muscle to the thin synth riff that remains looping at the center. The sudden ending leaves you broken in half, staring at the concrete and not knowing whether to crawl or crumple. [5]

Taylor Alatorre: The abrupt transition from abattoir atmospherics to an unchained "Get the Led Out" session brings to mind, of all things, the famously ambiguous ending of Taxi Driver. Did Travis Bickle really achieve a heroic redemption through the full flowering of his violent masculine instincts, or was it all a dying dream; and what lessons is the viewer meant to draw from either one? Whether Clark intended it this way, the heavy-blues riffage is bound to come off as triumphal after so much austere bleakness, and unfortunately it’s a bland sort of triumph that doesn’t feel fully earned, narratively or musically. It might have been a better illustration of the song‘s themes to reverse the sequence of the two main sections, so that the brokenness became more instead of less apparent over time. Would make for less of a concert crowd-pleaser, though. [5]

Isabel Cole: St. Vincent channels both Karen O’s snarling, twisting yowl and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ glitter-grime ambience to craft something tight and tense, fun with an edge of darkness that keeps building as if the song is straining against itself until it explodes. Listening to this feels like watching someone strut down a runway built in a junkyard, rhinestones glinting off her dirty fingernails until she lights a match and sets fire to the stage. [8]

Ian Mathers: I truly don't know whether it's her or me, but I used to hear a new St. Vincent single or album and feel the shock of the new, or at least of a distinctive voice. This is fine, and the guitar playing is certainly still bracing, but it just feels so much less... distinct. I don't want something that sounds like "Cruel" or "Digital Witness" or "Actor Out of Work," but I do want something that makes me feel the way all of those did. [5]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[cbd]

First and Final Frames from Jacob T. Swinney on Vimeo.

What can we learn by examining only the first and final shot of a film? This video plays the opening and closing shots of 55 films side-by-side. Some of the opening shots are strikingly similar to the final shots, while others are vastly different--both serving a purpose in communicating various themes. Some show progress, some show decline, and some are simply impactful images used to begin and end a film. View Part 2 here: vimeo.com/140600860 MUSIC: "Any Other Name" by Thomas Newman Films used (in order of appearance): The Tree of Life 00:00 The Master 00:09 Brokeback Mountain 00:15 No Country for Old Men 00:23 Her 00:27 Blue Valentine 00:30 Birdman 00:34 Black Swan 00:41 Gone Girl 00:47 Kill Bill Vol. 2 00:53 Punch-Drunk Love 00:59 Silver Linings Playbook 01:06 Taxi Driver 01:11 Shutter Island 01:20 Children of Men 01:27 We Need to Talk About Kevin 01:33 Funny Games (2007) 01:41 Fight Club 01:47 12 Years a Slave 01:54 There Will be Blood 01:59 The Godfather Part II 02:05 Shame 02:10 Never Let Me Go 02:17 The Road 02:21 Hunger 02:27 Raging Bull 02:31 Cabaret 02:36 Before Sunrise 02:42 Nebraska 02:47 Frank 02:54 Cast Away 03:01 Somewhere 03:06 Melancholia 03:11 Morvern Callar 03:18 Take this Waltz 03:21 Buried 03:25 Lord of War 03:32 Cape Fear 03:38 12 Monkeys 03:45 The World According to Garp 03:50 Saving Private Ryan 03:57 Poetry 04:02 Solaris (1972) 04:05 Dr. Strangelove 04:11 The Astronaut Farmer 04:16 The Piano 04:21 Inception 04:26 Boyhood 04:31 Whiplash 04:37 Cloud Atlas 04:43 Under the Skin 04:47 2001: A Space Odyssey 04:51 Gravity 04:57 The Searchers 05:03 The Usual Suspects 05:23

Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use.

[devoutpriest]

langstonmatriarch:

Henry and Lucille had of course had a problem with the idea of inviting the monk to dinner. We don’t know him, Ma, we don’t know any of them, Henry had argued, while Lucille had chirped in with ‘We don’t know what they want, Margaret’. EXACTLY, Margaret had replied. What was a better way to find out what they thought, why they were here, what their intentions were than to invite them to dinner? HE’S HARDLY GOING TO SNATCH JACOB AWAY IN THE MIDDLE OF DESSERT, HENRY, she had said impatiently. They would do better to worry about Martin Bellamy in that regard; he was a member of the FBI after all. Agent Bellamy had seen dead people come back to life ; in investigations he saw some of them die in, and he was trying to find answers.

She cooked a full dinner, traditional in every aspect, and combining both Henry and Jacob’s favourites both, Lucille’s preferences, like strawberry and cream ice-cream, she paid no attention to, and when she was finished, had zipped her dark green dress and slipped into her black shoes, she heard the sound of the doorbell heralding Athelstan’s arrival. She opened the door with a polite smile on her face. “I see you found it easily,” She said in greeting, stepping aside so that he might walk inside, her eyes watching him, every movement, every breath. “Dinner is almost ready”

Once he and the monks were finished in the Church, he’d flagged down a taxi to take him to the Langston’s residence. Taking out the neatly folded slip of paper from his pocket, he had then relayed the address to the taxi driver.

The driver had nodded upon hearing it—”I CAN GET YOU THERE, NO PROBLEM”–and commenced with taking Athelstan to his desired destination.

Some time later, the taxi stops in front of a white house encompassed by trees, a forest in the woods, and Athelstan climbs out of the car, thanking and paying the driver. He asks for the paper he showed to the man, the other startling a little, and searches for it, and then gives to him. He tucks it in his pocket to smooth out the crinkles and place in his bookshelf later.

He ventures to the house, and up onto the porch. Only one thumb press to the doorbell, it producing a buzzing ringing sound as he did so, and he could soon hear footsteps from the inside.

Athelstan gives Margaret a nod, as she opens the door. He notices that she had changed into a green dress, which he thought complimented her blue eyes.

He starts to get a little uncomfortable under her relentless observing gaze, although he smiles in return to her own.

“Hello, and yes, I did.”

Another smile, more uneasy this time, as he makes his way past the door to inside her house.

“I am glad to hear it. You have a lovely home, by the way.”