#stockton town

[girl4music]

Did some videoing while out and about on my new iPhone. Testing out the 4K/120hz fps feature. This is Stockton town’s water shoots. Middlesborough town has one too. I’ll probably try to capture that one next.

It’s cool that iPhones finally have a feature like this.

Late to the party as always but show up in style.

[princetonarchives]

In this defensive attitude of the South I for one will stand by them as a friend, to the last gasp of my existence, and if a dissolution of the Union is inevitable, then I would have the lines of separation drawn along the Hudson and the Lakes, rather than the Potomac and the Ohio. I have no doubt that in such an event the Northwestern states would unite with New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and the South. I will stand by them, because they are right…

Robert Field Stockton, Princeton Press, January 27, 1860

[artisthomes]

Claymont Court, Frank R. Stockton's home, near Charles Town, West Virginia, United States

[thxnks4themrms]

Maybe I should like give Lake Tahoe another try

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

"Hey, Babs,"

"Dick? It's late, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong!"

"I'm about to go on patrol, D, can this wait?"

A sigh. "No."

"What's wrong?"

"Blockbuster's after Oracle."

***

Gotham Proper is a thirty-three minute drive from Bludhaven. The drive to Bristol from Bludhaven is a fifty-one minute drive through Drescher, Burnside, Sumerset, Victoria Place, and Little Stockton before crossing the bridge over Gotham River into Bristol. Gotham Proper is made of four islands connected to each other and the mainland via several bridges. Technically, all of those cities and towns - as well as Charon and Brentwood - are sister cities like Bludhaven, but everyone counts them as a part of Gotham anyway.

Dick spent the entire drive alternating between sulking and panicking.

Danny would know. Ghosts, as he's come to understand, are beings made of emotion, meaning that he can sense emotions better than living beings. Though, he didn't need an empth ability to read the air around Dick.

'What if something happens while we're gone?" Dick asked for the nth time in the past few minutes, "What if Brutale decides to blow something up while I'm gone? What if Blockbuster starts something big?"

"Bigger than what he's already doing?" Danny didn't bother to look up from his conversation with Tim. "The fact that you can't even name specific examples proves that you're not actually worried about Blockbuster or Brutale."

"I'm worried about Brutale blowing something up, thank you very much."

"Yeah, 'something'. Who even is Brutale anyway? I don't think I know that name."

"No one you need to worry about." He moved into the right lane.

Danny turned his phone off and set it face down on his leg. "What are you really worried about, Dick? I've known you for five weeks now, and I've never seen you this worried about anything."

"You've known me for three weeks."

"No, you've known me for three weeks. I've known you for five weeks. And don't change the subject."

Dick sighed, running his left hand through his hair before dropping it back onto the steering wheel.

"Is it Bruce?"

"...yeah."

"You know he's at work, right?"

"Yeah, I- How do you know that?"

He waved his phone a bit. "I checked with Tim. So, it's just going to be Tim and Alfred at the Manor when we get there."

"You know Alfred?"

"I know of Alfred." Danny slapped his right shoulder, "Stop trying to change the subject!"

"I can't help it! Deflecting has worked pretty damn well for me up until this point!"

"Oh, yeah? Against who?"

"Literally everyone!"

"Everyone?"

A beat. "Okay, so maybe only most people, but that's not the point!"

"Doesn't matter what your point is because we're going back to talking about mine!" He huffed. "If you don't want to go straight to Wayne Manor, then stop by somewhere else. You had to have gained at least one friend in Gotham before you moved to Bludhaven."

Dick paused for a moment, eyeing the signs. They'd only been driving for twenty minutes. He could hang a right just before Sumerset to cross the New Trigate Bridge into Arkham Island, take another right onto Midtown and drive to Old Gotham to meet Babs/. Yeah, that'd be nice. But, the detour would increase the chance of running into Bruce later on in the day. Maybe he could have Bab's drive to the Manor?

"Is it too late to turn around?"

"Yes."

"Why are you even so insistent on going? You don't know anyone in Gotham!"

"I know Tim!" He argued. "Besides, healthy relationships are good in this kind of work."

Dick raised his eyebrow, glancing at Danny from the corner of his eye. "You wanna second to rethink that or..?"

Danny clicked his tongue. "Look, I know you don't want to talk to Bruce, and I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to apologize to Tim for snapping at him. If you end up with better relations here in Gotham, then that only works in your favor."

Dick groaned, ditching the turn onto New Trigate and continuing on through Sumerset. "Fine! But we're leaving before Bruce gets back. I can't stand him right now."

Danny smiled, a sad look in his eye. "Alright."

He knew very well that Dick's relationship was near irreparable. From what he'd gathered, from either overhearing or snooping, Bruce had been a pretty good dad and boss to Dick up until he'd turned seventeen. He hung up the Robin mantle when he was eighteen, appearing as Nightwing when he was nineteen. Bruce, apparently, hadn't taken this very well, but copped, adopint ong Jason Todd when Dick was twenty years old, giving him the Robin mantle a few months later.

According to Dick, when Jason was killed, he'd been off world. Bruce hadn't even called him to inform him, let alone tell him about the funeral. And, when Dick got back and heard what happened from Batgirl, he'd confronted Batman in the Batcave. Batman, apparently, though he's inclined to Dick's side, punched him the face and shifted the blame.

Danny doesn't blame Dick for being angry. Not for a second. He can't really relate, but he understands.

Entering Bristol, there was a shift in the air. Outside was stuffy and smelled like money. Inside the car, however, was tense. Dick's attitude shifted to his work smile. It was plastic.

This was going to be a long day.

He didn't say anything. Quietly, Danny messaged Tim, letting him know about the shift. Tim was quick to respond, letting Danny know that he was fully prepared for whatever was coming. Danny didn't think he was.

Danny knew that something was going to happen. The air was suddenly suffocating, the world fake manufactured to perfection.

"You alright there, bud?" Dick asked, his voice perfectly professional.

"Yeah, fine. I-I'm fine." Danny wanted this car to turn around.

Part 10 Part 12

[bullet-prooflove]

ATF!Series Part One: A Rabbit You Don't Want To Chase - David Hale x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hatersaremymotivators @bennykk @kelpies-shed

Before you there was ATF Agent June Stahl.

David doesn’t know what he was thinking when he stuck his dick into that particular bag of crazy. The two of them had a mutual hate for the MC and for each other. She was there to get the job done and he utilised that. They ended up fucking on his desk barely a week after she landed, kept it up for over a month before things turned sour.

What he remembers the most from that time was that it was always filthy, always violent. He’d hurt for weeks in the aftermath, his uniform chafing the scratch marks she left on his back. At no point during that ‘relationship’ did he feel good about himself.

It's been a couple of years since then and he hasn’t thought about her once, not until she strides into his stationhouse with a couple of junior agents and a bundle of files tucked under her arm.

“A war is coming.” She tells him.

And that’s it, the devil is back in his life.

David sighs because there’s been a couple of  months of peace since Clay Morrow’s ‘excommunication’ and the Sons seem to be turning their hand to more legit enterprises. Their assets have been tied up in porn since Suzie Quinn took over Luann’s business.

“Galen O’Shay, he’s one of the Irish Kings, leadership in the True IRA. The Sons are hunting him.” She tells him before she shows him a picture of a man he doesn’t recognise.

“What do they want with him?” He asks as he leans over the desk and studies the image. He can feel her eyes on him, sizing him up just like the first time and he shifts uncomfortably. She sets another picture down in front of him and this one he does recognise.

“Evelyn Shaw, unofficial matriarch.” She says leaning in close. He can feel the heat off her body rolling over his skin, the overripe sweetness of her perfume invading his nostrils. It’s suffocating being this close to her, it feels like she’s trying to claw her way underneath his flesh. “The club’s defence attorney and Chib’s fuck toy.”

David sighs because he knows Evelyn, he’s dealt with her in the past. She’s a nightmare in the courtroom, fiercely intelligent, tenacious but she’s also a good person. He’s lost count of the domestic violence cases she’s brought him. Each and every single one wrapped up neatly in a bow, ready for an arrest. He suspects it’s personal for her, that if he tracked back her history, there would be a report somewhere that detailed something terrible that had happened to her.

“I don’t understand how the two connect.” He tells Stahl as he shifts away from her. She follows him the same way she did back then, maintaining proximity, keeping him close.

“Intelligence suggests that Galen took her a couple of months back, hurt her and left her for Chibs to find inside a barn on the outskirts of town. They’ve been calling him the Mad Scot from here all the way up to Stockton because of the violence he’s left in his wake trying to find him.” She tells him, her hand coming to rest on his and it feels like his skin is crying to crawl right off his bones to escape her. He pull his hand away, tucking it into his pocket. “It only stopped when Chibs received confirmation that Galen had left the country.”

“And now he’s back.” David guesses as he replays back the past couple of his months in his head. It’s been a while since he’s heard from Evelyn, he doesn’t realise it until now.

He’d thought that the Sons had gone quiet but now he realises what’s really been  happening, they’ve been circling their wagons. Someone hurting one of their women, they won’t let that slide, the same way he wouldn’t. He’d go to the ends of the earth anyone laid a hand on you.

“Sure is baby and so am I.” She says her hand gripping his tie and drawing him closer, her lips ghost in his ear as she whispers. “My pussy’s missed that mouth of yours, why don’t you get on your knees and give her a kiss.”

He tears himself away, his cheeks colouring.

“I’d rather eat glass.” He tells her, using his palm to smooth over his tie.

She raises a eyebrow, her hand coming to rest on her hip as her voice turns cold.

“What? Your little art student lets you come in her mouth and you’re suddenly in love?”

His head snaps up and he senses his mistake the instant he makes it. He’s given her an opening, an acknowledgement that there’s someone important in his life that she can fuck with.

“How does it feel sticking your dick in the same pussy that Teller’s blown his load in?” She asks him, that cruel smile pulling at the edges of her mouth. “Or is that part of the allure, you get off knowing that you have the one thing that he wants.”

David tries not to react, he tries to keep his face impassive but she must see a flicker of something in his features.

“Has she told you anything about her time with him?”

David crosses his arms over his chest, his teeth grinding together as his eyes bore right into hers.

“You’ve never asked her have you?”

No, he hasn’t and you’ve never volunteered. There’s a line in your relationship that neither of you will cross because if you tell him something, you know he will have to do something about it and it tangles you up with the Sons all over again.

“This is a rabbit you don’t want to chase.” He warns her, his voice full of vitriol.

“We’ll see.” She tells him with shit eating grin of hers. “We’ll see.”

Love David? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[victusinveritas]

And just like that, every tattooed woman in Los Angeles cleared out of town. (Stockton Record 1939, via Newspapers.com)

[mariacallous]

Every so often along 99 between Bakersfield and Sacramento there is a town: Delano, Tulare, Fresno, Madera, Merced, Modesto, Stockton. Some of these towns are pretty big now, but they are all the same at heart, one- and two- and three-storey buildings artlessly arranged, so that what appears to be the good dress shop stands between a W. T. Grant store, so that the big Bank of America faces a Mexican movie house. Dos Peliculas, Bingo Bingo Bingo. Beyond the downtown (pronounced downtown with the Okie accent that now pervades Valley speech patterns) lie blocks of old frame houses – paint peeling, sidewalks cracking, their occasional leaded amber windows overlooking a Foster’s Freeze or a five-minute car wash or a State Farm Insurance office; beyond those spread the shopping centers and the mills of tract houses, pastel with redwood siding, the unmistakable signs of cheap building already blossoming on those houses which have survived the first rain. To a stranger driving 99 in an air-conditioned car (he would be on business, I suppose, any stranger driving 99, for 99 would never get a tourist to Big Sur or San Simeon, never get him to the California he came to see), these towns must seem so flat, so impoverished, as to drain the imagination. They hint at evenings spent hanging around gas stations, and suicide pacts sealed in drive-ins. But remember:

Q. In what way does the Holy Land resemble the Sacramento Valley? A. In the type and diversity of its agricultural products.

U.S. 99 in fact passes through the richest and most intensely cultivated agricultural region in the world, a giant outdoor hothouse with a billion-dollar crop. It is when you remember the Valley’s wealth that the monochromatic flatness of its towns takes on a curious meaning, suggests a habit of mind some would consider perverse. There is something in the Valley mind that reflects a real indifference to the stranger in his air-conditioned car, a failure to perceive even his presence, let alone his thoughts or wants. An implacable insularity is the seal of these towns. I once met a woman in Dallas, a most charming and attractive woman accustomed to the hospitality and social hypersensitivity of Texas, who told me that during the four war years her husband had been stationed in Modesto, she had never once been invited inside anyone’s house. No one in Sacramento would find this story remarkable (“She probably had no relatives there,” said someone to whom I told it), for the Valley towns understand one another, share a peculiar spirit. They think alike and they look alike. I can tell Modesto from Merced, but I have visited there, gone to dances there; besides there is over the main street of Modesto an arched sign which reads:

WATER – WEALTH CONTENTMENT – HEALTH

There is no such sign in Merced.

Notes From A Native Daughter – Joan Didion

[tavolgisvist]

It was at Stoky Wood* (badge - black and yellow, with a picture of a Spitfire flying over the River Mersey) that Paul and I saw our first film. We were seated on long wooden benches watching Crime Buster Dick Barton**, a great radio hero of ours, when it became too much for Paul. In the flickering half light I watched with great amusement as Big Brother stumbled over me and his pals to exit screen left, scared out of his tiny mind. He wasn't scared when it came to smaller things such as bullies, however, and many's the time he came to my rescue in the school play yard. 'Big Brother have a use after all,' I thought.

*Stockton Wood Primary School, Speke, Liverpool **Dick Barton: Special Agent, was released in May 1948 Btw, Paul's 'I have another memory, of hiding from someone, then hitting them over the head with an iron bar' is the story about Stoky Wood too (Paul was at Stockton Wood Primary School from September 1947 until July 1951)

My memories of brother and I are of two independent little chaps, but Uncle and Auntie,s remembrances are of 'two right little swine', always up to mischief, or with their backs to the wall saying, 'We won't… WE WON'T!' I'm sure they're just a might confused. I do remember a few instances, however, which might give their memories some validity. Like the memory of Paul and me in 72 Western speeding up the growth of next door's apples by throwing stones at the apple tree, and then vigorously denying it. The stones on the other side let us down! Memories of being boss of my own gang in the later Stockton Wood years and charging against the 'enemy' across the school yard in full war cry (obviously why the headmistress Miss Margaret A. Thomas, who used to make the school toys herself, advised the world that one day I would be a 'Leader of men').*** And the came an older bully unto the yard who hit little girls and maketh them cry, and it behove me to teach unto him a lesson: Seeing that I was far too young and weedy to challenge him personally, I chose a friend to talk for me…(no, not Paul)…a housebrick! Being, as I've said, a holy lad it wasn't too difficult to levitate the brick up into the air…over the Bully's thick head…and cut (snip!) the invisible strings. After this bloody, awful incident, he didn't bully little girls, or anyone else for that matter, ever more.

(Mike McCartney, 1981, Thank U Very Much. Mike McCartney's Family Album)

Part (I), (II), (III), (IV), (V), (VI)

***'I remember the headmistress saying how good the two boys were with younger children,' says Jim, 'always sticking up for them. She said Michael was going to be a leader of men. I think this was because he was always arguing. Paul did things much quieter. He had much more nous. Mike stuck his neck out. Paul always avoided trouble.'

(The Beatles: The Authorised Biography by Hunter Davies, 2010, Updated Edition)

They were four tough kids from Liverpool who’d learned their craft playing in hotel-cum-brothels in Hamburg. I mean, they were tough. They grew up in Liverpool, which was a tough city. It’s like growing up in Detroit or somewhere. Somewhere, that toughness always comes out. <…> This just goes back to where they came from. Liverpool is a tough town. I wouldn't particularly want to run into Paul McCartney in a dark alley, if he didn't like me.

(Michael Lindsay-Hogg, May 2024, interview with Rob Sheffield for Rolling Stones)

[goodoldroyalty]

The Duke and Duchess of York with Sir Hugh Bell and Lady Florence Bell at Stockton for the Railway Centenary 1925

‘Replying to the welcome extended to him at Darlington on July 2, 1925. The Duke of York said that the exhibition which the town ha got together would bring vividly before every one the amazing progress which had been made on British railways. He paid tribute to the pioneer work of Edward Peasse, “the first railway statesman.” and to George Stephenson, “the railway locomotive engineer.” The world owed to these famous North countryman a debt of gratitude which it would be impossible to repay.

Their Royal Highness were greatly interested in the Exhibition, which provided a study in contrast. The models lent by the Great Western Railway Co. included one of the engine “Alma,” dated 1850. There was also a model of the “Jenny Lind,” which has a sentimental and industrial association with the railway men: and which was carried in procession around the city of york to celebrate the inauguration of a nine-hour working day, which came into forse in 1872.’

THE BRISBANE COURTIER

Lady Bell, The Duke of York, Viscount Grey. The Duchess of York and Sir Hugh Bell, seated in the Grandstand, await the arrival of the procession. In the foreground are silver models of "Locomotion" and the crude coach used by the Stockton and Darlington Railway Committee on opening day 1825. These mementos were presented to The Duke and Duchess by Viscount Grey at the end of the procession.

[citylighten]

My Pietro and Sal gameplay have both been interesting and led to me having so many different headcanons. I’ve always struggled playing Fallout 4 because my main gripe is that I can’t recreate ANY oc want due to them having a set backstory and dialogue that reinforces certain plot things, but Pietro has a pretty good Sole Survivor AU. He's canon divergent though. More undercut!

-Pietro Impellizzeri was an notorious and powerful gangster Pre-War. He’s similar to Vito Corleone of The Godfather in the sense that he immigrated to America as a child and rose to the top of his community’s underworld.

-He had crossed paths with the human Nick Valentine on numerous occasions over ‘missing people’ as well as a ‘dirty money trail,’ but Pietro always knew how to throw the detective off. They were neither enemies nor friends, just merely people who kept a tense eye on one another.

-As a Boss, in terms of his conduct, Pietro was a composed, fair man but he was also known to be ruthless when the situation called for it. Outside of public events, he was seldom seen. If his men saw him it meant something bad was going to happen. Despite having such affluence and respect, Pietro's over-indulgence in the finest things (liquor, media, women) kept him blind to the things going wrong in his personal life.

-Pietro was married to Jasmine, who was a pinup model before marrying him. Their marriage was based on sex, possession and material interests. Ultimately, Pietro was a largely inattentive husband due to the demanding nature of keeping things afloat in his criminal empire.

-As a nuclear war approached, Jasmine began a series of affairs with men. Some powerful, some were Pietro’s enemies. Her wrongdoings ranged from supplying large sums of money to her lovers, to telling inside secrets. There came a moment, days before the bomb dropped, when Pietro (at his limit) considered murdering his wife. However, this did not come to be as the bombs fell over America.

-Needless to say, when Kellogg shoots Jasmine, Pietro feels guilt. Yes, he was plotting to murder her, but he knew that line of thinking wasn’t right. He doesn’t come into the Wasteland in the pursuit of being a better, kinder man, instead his decent actions come largely from the need to survive and understand the world he’s in.

Whereas Sal comes out Vault 111 ready to murder and massacre anyone in Eve’s name, Pietro’s mentality is: “I need to understand what civilization is like now. I need to know who is in charge of things.” Especially because since Pietro has been at the top for so long, it’s been years since he was doing dirty work for himself, let alone personally killing others on a continuous basis.

-When Pietro meets Nick Valentine there’s tension. But, they recognize they need each other to find Shaun, however there isn’t full trust between the men. Gradually, as the two spend more time together, Nick believes that Pietro can become a good man in this new world and often pushes the idea that Pietro is kind. Pietro does not believe himself to be kind, because he’s not burying the man he used to be before the bombs fell.

-There are times when Nick and Pietro split and his companions become MacCready, who reminds him of a lackey he would’ve used Pre-War, and Preston, who is yet another character who believes there’s an inner goodness in him. As a result of Preston and Nick - plus an envy for the mayor of Diamond City, Pietro decides to invest time in building the Minutemen and building settlements to lead. Despite possessing aspirations to lead, Pietro is shifting morally. Often, Nick helps him on Minutemen quests which strengthens their relationship.

-While helping settlements, Pietro meets Rosaria at Covenant. The woman is a secretary for Jacob Orden, the town’s mayor. Even when Pietro seems like he could be trouble for the settlement, she helps him learn more about the Amelia Stockton case with her insider information. After that, she leaves Covenant to affiliate herself with the Minutemen, which allows Pietro to see her more often. Time with Rosaria [who enjoys farming] has Pietro nostalgic about Sicily and as a consequence, he grows to enjoy things about nature as well as treasure the present he gets to spend with her.

-And that’s all for now because I haven’t completed his run yet 😘

[torchlitinthedesert]

Not Beatles, but shoutout to rock’n’roll girlies in the north of England in 1958:

…the 14-year-old Lorna Stockton (later Sage) went with a friend to Stockport:

Gail and I spent all our time and pocket money dashing from one jukebox to another to make sure that Pat Boone’s chaste hit ‘Love Letters in the Sand’ would be drowned out all over the windswept town by ‘All Shook Up’. The one was sweetness and light, the other inarticulate, insidious bump-and-grind… All the Elvises groaned and whimpered at once, and the waves rushed in and obliterated Pat Boone. And we clung to each other in a shelter smelling of orange peel and piss on the promenade, and shrieked with glee, like the Bacchae who dismembered Orpheus.

From David Kynaston, Modernity Britain 1957-62.

[remembertheplunge]

Pandemic and Protest And an Altered State Of Living.June 2 to June 4 2020

June 2, 2020 Tuesday 6:14pm Jail Lobby

Barricades are up near the entry door to the lobby..Like, they are trying to protect from being rammed into.

I just invented a new term: Trump-demic! Inspired by the “oh fuck” Trump pandemic meteor hurtling at earth post card I sent to Zoe recently.

This edition of the Journal is the Protest edition. Protests rage across the country. 

Jared Is not happy that I spent $60 on this journal.

End of entry

Notes : 7/8/2024

I wrote the above entry in the lobby of the Stanislaus County Jail 5 miles West of Modesto. Large cement barricades had been set up to block an attempt to forcibly take the building by Black Lives Matter protesters.

My sister Zoe and I liked to send humorous post cards back and forth to one another. On portrayed a meteorite racing toward earth entitled “oh fuck”. It was the Trump Pandemic meteor!

I had paid $60 for the leather bound journal that I wrote the June 2020 entries in. Jared was my law clerk and business manager and was not happy with the investment.

________________________________________________________

6/3/2020 Wednesday 7:10pm 

NPR: Market Place is on. The Pandemic--Protest is in full swing!

I was up in Stockton at the jail. a fellow defense attorney said police are surrounding the court house. She told me not to come to Stockton tomorrow for court. Too dangerous. She will appear for me.

Meanwhile, Jared said a protest in Oakdale today went violent.

The feeling out here is shaky.

The protests flair here. The virus flairs there. But you never know where or when.

End of entry

Notes 7/8/2024

NPR was National Public radio and Market Place was a show on that station. I listened to Market Place a lot in the early =days of the pandemic. They had honest reporting of how the Pandemic was unfolding.

Oakdale is a town in eastern Stanislaus County, California. 

__________________________________________-

6/4/2020. Thursday 5:20pm Rasputiun’s

Cut. Cut. Gone The two trees marked for destruction are gone. Progress? Productivity? Pandemic and Protest Rage, cutting down 2 trees took priority.

Jerad and I had a beautiful talk with the female clerk at Preservation Coffee House this afternoon. She went to the Sunday 11am protest at 1010 10th (down town Modesto, California) and will go to one in Ripon. She told us that“We need to be willing to be injured to push for change.” .

Magnificent.

Jared said that during the Oakdale protest yesterday, Trump 2020 “all lives matter” stood across from “Black Lives Matter” protesters.

People are out in mobs now. 

I think 10,000 protested yesterday in San Fransisco, Thelma and Louise style, racing for the viral cliff’s edge.

I anticipate a spike in virus and in violence.

Mobile Art Gallery just passed

End of entries

Notes 7/8/2024;

Rasputin’s is a DVD record store located near highway 99 and the rail road tracks in Modesto. During the pandemic, when I could no longer write in coffee houses, I would sit in my car, listen to Mavis Staples songs, write and observe. I got to know the area of the parking lot that I would write in very well. Two young trees I often sat near had been marked to be cut down  with white paint rings around their trunks. On June 4, they were gone and I eulogized them in my entry.  There was another man who would at times park there, too in his hot yellow sports car. He would read his  newspaper. He never looked my way, but, I’m sure that he saw me. Pandamic exiles resorting to a parking lot for covid free reverie.

In 2020 I started noticing Graffiti on the trains as I drove up and down  Highway 99. In March 2020, when the State was in  lock down and the highway electronic signs were screaming out “Stay home and live!”.  I had to be out and drive for court. I never sheltered in place. Besides, I wanted to see the world in its grip of fear. It was fascinating. But, scary , too. And there were the trains. And the Graffiti art work on the train cars. And they were comforting. A message written from before the time of the plague , barreling along as if to say, come follow me . I will lead you to safely out of the virus veil. 

Preservation was Preservation Coffee in Modesto where pre pandemic I spent many hours writing. Post pandemic I have rarely returned and never to write there.

Thelma and Louise was a 1991 movie in which two wild intense women go on a crazy vacation that finds them hurling over  a cliff in the end.

[mountaindmned]

JACK, SKYE, AND THE OTHER FIDDLER TEENS STILL HAD TO HAVE FUN. THANKFULLY, THE GREER FAMILY LIVED JUST PAST STOCKTON DELI & GAS.

The Blackwood Grange was a hit place for teens. A step above meeting near the stock tank near the Taily Ranch. A white barn with Christmas lights stapled at all angles to the walls. The band YOWLING GRISTLE was playing and the six teens tried to mingle. They drank, danced, partied…

Jack's first love, a boy with blonde hair and eyes as grey as storm clouds, Matthew Greer. And, as luck would have it– Skye got a bit too wasted and couldn't be a safe ride home. Skyes' car was a tight fit but the soft-spoken, tender hearted boy saved the day,

“Y'all can stay with my mom. I got a floor in my room.” Matthew shrugged. “It's better than the car, there's a storm rolling in.” He cracked his knuckles.

Didn't have to ask Jack twice.

They all crept towards the front porch, only met with a woman wearing purple-tinted glasses. She held a shotgun. Not pointed at them, simply held in her lap. She smoked a cigar on the front porch. Recoiled a bit as Jack stepped into the light with Skye bundled in his arms.

“What are you doing here?”

One of the few locals who knew the legends. Nice. Jack nodded, gently adjusting his grip on Skye. “We just need a safe place to spend the night. We'll go back to the mountain tomorrow, be out of your hair.”

The woman paused in thought. ”Right. It's summertime.” She drew on her cigar.

Hawk nodded. “Not hunting season. Don't worry, we're keeping the mountain safe.”

“I know you are.” She sighed. “Ah well. Yeah, I guess it's my duty as a member of the town, right?” The snark dripped as she recited, “You don't deny a Fiddler shelter or food.”

“Ah, no. Ma'am. It's not like that– we can just sleep in the car–” Hawk said. Jack stared at Hawk. No, the woman was right. Those were the rules.

“Yeah, let me just make drunk kids sleep in the car.” She rolled her eyes. “Let's get you inside. Have some tea.”

“We can just go to sleep, if that's easier.” Jack offered.”You should probably –”

“I was already up waiting on him.” She pointed at Matthew. “Might as well meet the new friends my boy made.” She glanced at Jack, eyed the way his hand brushed her son's.

All six clustered around the kitchen table. Skye slurped at her hot cocoa, the rest all sipping tea. Hawk fussed over Skye, made sure she didn't spill too much. Hawk did most of the talking.

“We met out at the Grange. Matthew offered us a place to stay, I didn't ask. We only ever ask for food nowadays, but hunting has been good–”

“You don't need to defend yourself to me.” The woman – Sarah Greer, sighed.

Her wife, Jessica Greer, was in the living room nearby. She tended to a wound on Bluebird's shoulder. She was a nurse, apparently. And she certainly didn't approve of Jack's stitches. She kept tutting as Hawk, Matthew, Jack, and Jessica talked.

“My son picked you, and if you're a Fiddler you can't be all bad news. Well. Maybe. God, you know– you just showing up on my porch, thought you were Old Shuck telling me my kid died. I guess love is a kind of death, though.” She sighed. “Fine. Fine. Go get some rest. Let's let Skye sleep down here so me and Jess can watch her. You all rest. We'll have, pancakes tomorrow or something.” …

And so began an age of horror movies, lake trips, ice cream. First kisses beneath fireworks.. Hawk noticed the mistletoe hanging above each doorway but didn't mention it to Jack. Jack was too lovestruck. Hawk was glad to see him happy.

Sarah normally covered up her shoulders but the recent heat wave had her donning a new swimsuit.

“Oh. One of the boys saved me from an attack.” Sarah said in response to everyone's stares. There were overlapping claw scars on her shoulders. Her sunglasses reflected the warm sunshine.

The scars were all aged different. Some older by plenty. Gramps hadn't told Hawk of any Mad Dogs ever leaving the pack. Never heard any stories of Sarah.

Hawk stayed silent still.

“Oh, it was before your time. One of the older ones. But I do remember you.” Sarah pointed at Jack. “Your pa, he's the one who saved me, I think. Fletcher, was it?”

“No, ma'am. My daddy is Jay. Fletcher doesn't have any kids.”

“Fletcher is still kicking around, eh?”

“Not for long, he's getting older and slower like Gramps. But I can pass on that you said–”

“Ah, no. He doesn't need to worry about me.” Sarah said. She waved her hand.

“I think he'd be happy to–”

Hawk elbowed him. He didn't understand but he shut up all the same.

Matthew shrugged and tossed him the football. The boys, and Skye went to throw the ball around.

“Fletcher passed the cleft lip on to Matthew?” Hawk hummed.

“Perceptive. But, no.” Sarah laughed and lifted her sunglasses, let her hair ruffle in the breeze. Her eyes were orange.

Hawk wanted so badly to know more but she simply spread out on her towel and picked at the grass.

…

Summer had to end sometime.

…

Sarah held Matthew tight, tried not to crush Kira in her embrace. At least they were alive. Just don't think about Jessica. Just don't think about Jessica.

Hawk and Jack eyed the trees. "Why'd it come down here?"

"It's still too warm for them, ain't it?" Hawk agreed. She dug through the blood spill in the truck to find the first aid kit for Jack's eye.

Sarah looked through the treeline, her eyes narrowed behind her glasses. She threw them to the ground and marched towards the treeline. There was a struggle, a scuffle.

Sarah held Gramps in an elbow lock. Kicked his knee until he fell to the ground. She slipped her shotgun off her back and held it.

"You led that thing here?"

Gramps flamethrower was damningly warm in the muggy summer evening.

Sarah held her shotgun at Gramps shoulder.

“Why?”

“Sarah.” Gramps smiled. “You've seen this town change. They need a reminder to respect us. We can barely scrape by, begging for food. We've never been kings but we're living worse than stray dogs now. They need to remember why they need us.”

“What did you expect to happen?” Jack's voice was a reedy, teeth gritted screech. Hawk had a bandage she was wrapping around his eye.

“Gramps, my hands are too full to defend you. Careful, now.” Hawk struggled. Gramps had to regain control of the pack. The others weren't supposed to find out. Hawk only knew for the sake of training.

“Oh, Jack won't do nothing. He agrees with me, right son? Rules need to be followed. We sacrifice everything. You just gave up an eye. Did you even get a thank you?”

Jack froze. Stammered out, "They're my pack. Matthew, Kira, Sarah... it's different. It's different. It's--"

“Jack. Shut the fuck up.” Sarah blinked away tears. She flexed her finger on the trigger. Focused back at Gramps. “You got my wife and kids caught up in this shit.” She'd left to give them a normal life, she'd left to give herself a normal life, still saw Fletcher all guts-spilled in her nightmares...

“Mad Dog can't kill another Mad Dog.” Gramps began to stand and Sarah kept the muzzle against him. “Let me get my pack home, you go back to your little life here. So, you lost her? You lost Fletcher.ive lost. Jack, Hawk, Skye. We always lose people. If you mourn her, you're betraying what I taught you. And, that's your right. I didn't stop you from leaving, no. But that's not on me. It wasn't personal. A few locals were going to die anyway. More would have anyway, if we'd starved this winter--”

Sarah pulled the trigger. One barrel, the other. A practiced reload, two more.

Hawk held Jack, Bluebird held Skye. A snarling and gnashing of teeth as everyone hollered and struggled.

Sarah spit on the wheezing body. “Ain't no damn Mad Dog. Killed you just fine.”

…

Jack picked up the flamethrower from Gramps body. He held it tightly. It was still hot. “We– we'll get the body back up the mountain. Maybe it can heal him. He–” Jack turned to Sarah. “You had your revenge. A moment of weakness. The Mad Dogs swear to leave you and your loved ones alone. I– I thank you for your hospitality.”

Sarah and Matthew both spoke, “Wait, we don't have to–” "It doesn't have to end like --"

“All this curse does is hurt your family, Sarah. You deserve peace.” He swallowed. Didn't have energy to confront his emotions, his guilt. That look on Matthew’s face haunted him.

“You ain't in charge, Jack.” Hawk glared. She looked at Matthew, Sarah. “We– let's revisit this in a few weeks? No final decision. But…” she drew a breath. Steeled herself. “My brother is right. We understand this was… self defense for you. Absolutely understandable.” She nodded. The rest of the pack complied. Even Jack swallowed his pride. "We won't retaliate. Especially not if he makes it. Look after Matthew, and Kira. We'll... If you--"

"You kids helped. You're the real Mad Dogs. He's-- He's a stubborn old guard." Sarah nodded. Looked at the giant skeleton still askew on the lawn. If she hadn't been here, it would have reached town. So many people would have died.

Sarah spoke again. “No. You need to save him. He is… important to the mountain. To the pack. No way it lets him die. I got what I needed." She'd savor his blood dribbling down his ugly mustache. Even if he came back, she'd just kill him again.

She hugged Matthew tight.

She hummed a short bit of the blessing-song. It was recited, forced. But no one could blame her now if he didn't pull through.

Hawk hefted Gramps up. They placed the corpse in the back of Skyes' car.

Drove back up the mountain.

[lover-girl-estxx]

Whatever

(N32 R29) ANGST

*not my gif* asked by @princessmermaid1289 i don't know if this is right

'And maybe (brother of choice ) and reader get in an argument and he goes to hang out it with the guys after like at their house and she goes to clear her head on a walk and her phone dies and he freaks out cause she’s not answering so him and the guys go look for her'

"what the fuck do you want me to do?!" He yelled "stay! stay for longer than three days everytime I turn around your back in Vegas drinking!" "you ever think your the reason I leave? I gotta drink to put up with you" I bit my cheek and crossed my arms "okay if I bug you so much why am I here?!" he shrugged "do we really have to do this again" I added "the hell are you talking about!?" "your pushing me away once again" "maybe you'll take a hint" I grabbed my phone and walked to the door "there I took your hint" I walked out. I walked down for a while and ended up being closer to my friends than Nick's so I just went there.

| Nick's POV |

I sat on my couch grabbing my bong leaning back, putting my feet on the table as Nate, Killshot (nick), Chris , Jake and Gilbert came in to watch the fight tonight"hey" Nick said I nodded "sup," Nate hit my shoulder then sat next to me "wheres Y/n? she said she was gonna make me one of those drinks shes been talking about" "she left" I passed my bong to him "where'd she go?" Chris asked "I was looking forward to that drink" he added "we got in a argument she went for a walk or some shit" Nate rolled his eyes "what?" I asked "nothing" he raised his brow "no you have something to say" "you treat her like shit sometimes" "how the fuck do you know?" the others left "you push her away make her feel like shit sometimes...your scared to let her get close text her stop being a bitch....your girlfriend walking around Stockton all by herself" I sighed grabbing my phone.

Y/n❤️

N: I'm sorry

N: you don't bug me , I'm sorry

| Y/ns POV |

"you need to stop giving him chances" beth said "he just gets overwhelmed sometimes do not like it happens all the time this is like the second third time this has happened" "that's not for you to deal with! He can't talk to you like that" "it is, he doesn't talk like that all the time he's nice and sweet" she rolled her eyes "he is!" I added "he should be calling you then" "my phone died".

| Nick's POV l

N: Can you just tell me if you got somewhere?

N:Y/n I'm very sorry I didn't mean it

N: y/n your making me nervous

N: I'll leave you alone just tell me your good!

N: I love you

N: I'm so sorry I got on the defensive and I said things I shouldn't have... I know you're looking out for me

*2 calls*

"she's not answering" I said throwing my phone to the side "it's almost dark out" Nick said "come on" I got up grabbing my jacket. "Which way does she go?" Chris asked "I don't know she doesn't walk away everyday" I scoffed.

| Y/ns POV |

"okay it's about to be dark I should go" I said standing up "okay let me know how it goes with the boyfriend or whatever" she did as I walked out the door "not talking to her about Nick again" I said under my breath starting to walk to Nick's. "Gilbert?" I said seeing him walk my way "hey" he said "what are you doing?" "Trying to find you Nicks worried" I sighed "my phone died" "come on I'll walk back with you" I lightly smiled as he pulled out his phone probably to text Nick.

"hey" I said to Nate and Jake quietly "hey" he smiled at the table "is Nick here?" "No Nick and well Nick are on the way they drove to the other side of town....while we wait, can you make that drink?" I chuckled and started making it.

I heard the door open then the chairs moved meaning the boys left. "Hey" he moved his thumbs playing with his fingers "hey," I sighed "I'm gonna finish this then stay at my apartment tonight" he nodded then there was silence for a while "i-i don't think you should I want you to stay" "Nick" "I'm sorry I didn't mean it and-I know I've been leaving a lot I'm sorry about that too" "I know it's rough for you right now but you hurt my feelings....... I accept your apology. But I don't think I will again so" " I know" he whispered wrapping his arms around me I hesitated but wrapped my arms around him back" I love you " He whispered into my neck.

My phone charged and I opened all my texts from him reading through everyone. I walked downstairs as he watched a fight with the guys He sat in the recliner by himself, I sat in his lap my head on his chest watching the fight making him kiss my head.

Me and Nick aren't perfect but I don't think there's anyone else I would rather not be perfect with.

[soniabigcheese]

PUT THIS IN YOUR DIARIES FOLKS

September 27th 2025 marks the bicentenary of the first passenger railway!

Even if you're not able to attend - or its not your thing, this is a big big celebration for my town!

There's a month long celebration, including - I hope - a cavalcade of trains that will be passing through, including a replica of the Locomotion No1

A brief history lesson here.

Trains were initially used to transport goods from one town to another, countryside to the docklands, Shildon to Stockton.

This was proving expensive, as the trains would return empty. So someone came up with the idea of adding a passenger carriage. Which proved to be a popular decision. (Obviously some folks objected very strongly but their protests failed miserably)

And so the Stockton to Darlington railway was born.

Where did Darlington come into this?

Easy, it's because the trains passed through the town!

I recall the last time a cavalcade came through, I went with my mum and dad to watch as many trains passed through. Shame we didn't have a camera. I can't remember any of the trains but I did recall that the Mallard (the fastest train at the time) was running very late so I never got to see that one.