slick city

Intermission appreciation week!

March 18: Let them be happy.

Bonus thats bound to happen:

2

“When we go crashing down,
We come back every time.”

“Y'may think yer slick, city boy, bu’ ah know that rabbit is smart as a whip. Iffin’ y'think y'can keep a one up on ‘er much longer y'got another thin’ comin’ an when hell comes a knockin’ on your door, when she finds out, don’ think I’m gonna stick 'round t'catch enny brimstone fer ya.” “

Such a charitable, kind man you are, Gid. A tod among tods.”

“I jes know, even with the best of interests, ydont dupe Jude. Y'got playing with fire. You’re standin’ in a burnin’ buildin’ and if y'keep this up its gonna collapse on ya.”

Lev stuff. Gideon has some opinions about Nick and his shenanegans.

anonymous asked:

New to Age of Sigmar and I have a lore-esque question. Would the "Slaves to Darkness" fight along side deamons of Tzeentch according to lore? Including the new ones coming out this month? and how would their relations be to eachother if they can? Would they be like at arms reach of each other, would the daemons have them subjugated, how would that work?

It could go either way really. The Slaves to Darkness are basically what the Warriors of Chaos once were, but there’s huge variation across the Realms. Nor should they been confused with Tzeentch’s city-slicking cults. These guys are the “barbarians,” but whether they outright serve daemons, are equals or even subjugate them varies depending on however you’d like to play it.

@silversiins - hearkened for a sermon

    It had only been a few weeks since their arrival to Dunwall and months since they first stepped foot onto Gristol’s soil. So much time spent trekking southward under heavy rains. Only to be delivered into a city slicked with sea froth and oils. Tyvia in comparison was cold, but it’s air was dry and light. Here, every windowpane was forever speckled with dew and breathing felt laborious. At least to their foreign lungs. 

  Jonah had been promised a diamond of a city, instead they found the rat plague and a murdered Empress. Maybe in previous years it had been a monument to man’s triumph in the fields of science and politics. Even architecture if you considered the intricacies of the more nobler houses. But it had all been laid to waste. And all it took was the edge of the royal protector’s blade. 

  Were the local overseers even aware of all this? Maybe they’d grown accustomed to the wet smell of their streets and the scuttling of rodents in dark alleyways. The student would have asked, but they still struggled against their Tyvian accent. Their tongue failed to coil round the ‘common’ language, leaving them tangled and mute. Even a greeting proved difficult as they received a senior overseer into the libary…What had drawn senior Martin to this place? And so late. 

Christmas Without You


Sherlock walked briskly along the slick city streets, head down, trying not to catch anyone’s eye. He pulled his coat tighter around his frame, attempting to brace against the sudden chill that had taken hold in the air. The cheap material did nothing to protect him, and, not for the first time, he longed for the warmth and the security of his Belstaff. The familiar weight and feel of the wool would be a welcome respite right now, a talisman, something to wrap himself in and dream of home. But unfortunately, it was a tragedy of war, lost to the battle he was currently fighting.

He ducked into a nearby cafe, grabbing a seat in the corner booth. He waved the waitress away, pulling out the small burner phone from his coat pocket. He turned it around in his hands, considering if he should actually go through with this idea. It was spectacularly risky. If anyone was listening, he could be putting himself and the recipient of the call in very grave danger. But oh, the temptation was so great.

It had been so long, too long since he’d heard that voice. That soft voice that made him feel like home, wrapping around him and filling all the cells of his body with an instant rush of tender warmth. Sherlock knew it was ridiculous, but he thought if he could just hear it again, that tender tone, it almost made these months worthwhile. Almost.

Decision made, he dialed the number. It rang twice before the receiver picked up. Sherlock quickly pressed the mute button and pressed the phone to his ear, leaning back in the booth and closing his eyes.

“Hello,” the man said.

“Hello. How are you?”

“Hello?”

“I hope you’re doing well.”

“Hello! Is anyone there?”

“I miss you.”

“Huh”

The line clicked dead in his hand. He kept it pressed to his ear for a second longer, soaking up the forgotten sounds of London, of home, of happiness.

“Happy Christmas, John,” he said, before putting the phone back in his pocket.

                                                  +++++++

John looked down at the bouquet in his hands. He didn’t know why he persisted in bringing them every time, but for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself. Logically, he knew that there didn’t need to be a fresh one every week, but it felt like he was at least doing something. He was too late to stop the events that led to this, but at least he could ensure that the site was beautiful.

John walked up to the headstone and knelt down, removing last week’s offering before carefully placing the recent one in its place. He’d chosen red this week, he supposed it was appropriate, the best to go with the holiday spirit. Although John didn’t feel very festive. Most likely he’d spend the evening the way he’d spent the last few weeks, wallowing in cheap whisky and staring at the walls.

He stood back up and squared his shoulders back. It was time for the next bit of tradition. He had gotten used to talking to Sherlock here. It was almost as if he could sense his presence in the air. Sometimes he told him mundane facts about his day, other times it was to beg him to end this, give him a miracle, to please come home. John never quite knew. It was ridiculous, but some part of him wouldn’t give up on Sherlock. On the strange idea that somehow, somewhere he was out there, just waiting to come home to London. To John.

“Sherlock, I - I still will never understand why. Why did you do it? Why didn’t you let me help you? I would have. I would have followed you anywhere. You know that. You didn’t have to go it alone.” John sniffed, struggling to hold back the tears that were never far away these days. “You were the best man I’d ever known, Sherlock. You were my friend. My best friend. I would have stood by you, always. Wherever you are -”

A shrill sound cut him off. Frowning, he pulled out his phone, and looked at the screen. He couldn’t explain it, but something told him to pick it up, accept the call. He swiped his thumb across the screen and held it up to his ear.

“Hello?”

Slience.

“Hello?”

Still nothing.

“Hello! Is anyone there?”

He thought he heard a faint crackling on the other end, but no other sound came through.

“Huh,” he said, cutting off the call and slipping the phone back in his pocket. For one brief second, he had hoped, dreamed that by some miracle it was Sherlock calling to tell him he was coming home. Like something out of a fairy tale. But life wasn’t like that.

“Sorry about that. I thought -” John shook his head. “Anyway. What I was going to say is, wherever you are Sherlock, I believe in you. Please stop this. One more miracle, for me. Please come home. I miss you. And one more thing. Happy Christmas, Sherlock.”

He spun on his heel and started walked away, already planning what color bouquet he’d bring on New Year’s.


Written for @hudders-and-hiddles and her  25 days of ficmas challenge - Day 17 “Christmas Without You”  (and you knew it was coming, Reichenfeels for everyone!)

Enjoy?

I wanna get into biking in Chicago to save on bus fare but i don’t have much to spend at the moment. I saw a decent looking big box store type mountain bike for a great price on Craigslist and many sites say MTBs do just fine in the city with slick tires if you’re not trying to zip past everyone and their mother, which I am not ready to start out with.

I could see myself upgrading in the future but for right now, what with finding a frame and tires to support my body without paying an arm and a leg, a “mountain style” bike seems appropriate. Does anyone have suggestions? I’d especially love to hear from fat bike riders. The brand I saw is a Pacific Legend Women’s bike. If I get tires for it, is it feasible?