A Million Stories

#Mius attempts cooking

"So he looks like… Thor in a doctor’s uniform?"

"Thor in a cowboy outfit."

-our GURPS game right now.

socialistexan:

camwyn:

eraofstories:

haaretz:

At least three dead in two shootings at Jewish centers in Kansas. 15-year-old boy reported to be critically wounded; police report one person was in custody; man reportedly yelled ‘Heil Hitler’ when police arrested him.

Click here for the full story and breaking developments

Reblogging again to add: 

Also, non-Jews, please spread this. People will forget about it otherwise. The police say they aren’t ready to call it a hate crime, despite the fact that witnesses have said that the man was asking people if they were Jewish and waiting for an affirmative response before shooting. The more people who are paying attention to this story the harder it will be for it to be swept under the rug. 

A lot of people are currently very excited about the recent Cap movie. If you believe that it was worthwhile for Steve Rogers to fight fictional nazis, please show that you care about the people harmed by those in the real world who still agree with Nazi ideology. If you can get super excited and make tons of posts about Cap, then you can do this too, right? (obviously there are people who are upset/triggered by this stuff, which is an entirely different situation. but if you can spread the word please do)

I’m very sorry to those of you who don’t come to my blog expecting to see news or other horrible real world stuff. I thought it was worth putting out there.

Also the shooter is a former KKK Grand Dragon

He gets there in the end

ringtailedrascal:

thatfreakingfennec:

"Eh, s’kinda specific, but I don’t mean for stories. S’always nice to have some tricks up yer sleeve to bust out when things start breakin’. I cheat, ain’t no reason you can’t." He pauses in his frying to look up and shoot her a grin, at this.

"Ain’t sure how y’could store it, ‘less I jus’ tucked it in hammerspace an’ snagged it for ya when y’need it, but then that kinda defeats the object. Eh, I’ll figure somethin’ out."

The pan’s given an expert little flick, and the fish jump up a little before landing back down on a new coating of oil and fat.

He might not know how to cook many things, but the things he can cook he’s good at.

"Y’know, I reckon this is… ‘bout the third longest I’ve ever managed to stay alive?" He remarks lightly. Fingers snag one hot end of fish, flipping it over onto its other side, before repeating on the second, movements sharp and not quite flinchy. Slightly burnt fingertips are rubbed against jeans, both to remove oil and soothe the burn.

"Startin’ to suspect you’re showin’ off an’ tryin’ to keep me safe from my own dang self!" He laughs, before a sly grin creeps onto his muzzle, looking up from the fish to the fishercoon.

"Or are y’jus’ keepin’ me like this so y’can ogle me, huh?"

If he had any idea how right he was the irony would probably kill him.

"Ah - shuddup." Kate’s retort is as eloquent as it is verbose. "Ah kin show off if Ah right well please." She coasts over the accusation of oggling - and for a few moments, focuses VERY INTENSELY on fishing.

Fishing yes. Look at all the fish. So many fish. Pay no attention to the fox behind the frying pan.

…Maybe he’s not paying attention to her, though. She peeks over, just to make sure - if he is, she can play it off as conversation, right? “An’ what makes yew think Ah’d wanna go ‘round gawkin’ at yew fo’ anyways?” She lies.

She’s been getting better at that, she notices with some self-satisfaction, as she hauls another catch up to the vulpine for cooking.

"Why wouldn’t you gawk at me? Have you -seen- me?" He wasn’t looking her way to begin with, but that line’s too good to pass up - he looks up at her, leaving the pan alone for a moment to flex his arms and ‘show off’ - in as over-the-top a way as he can.

"If you haven’t, I’m accepting photographs now~" He sing-songs, grinning his fool head off.

It’s not until he hears sizzling that he snaps back to reality.

"Ah hell!" The fish is taken off the heat hurriedly, a plate yanked from nearby and the fried fillets plucked off and set down with bare fingers, as the pan teaches Tai the song of its people - "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, owfeckow!"

He gets there in the end

ringtailedrascal:

thatfreakingfennec:

After a long story, it’s always a good idea to take some time off.

Resetting personality back to baseline, stretching a few skills that went dormant for a while, kicking back and relaxing.

"Y’got damn good at takin’ ‘vantage of that shock rifle, li’l bit. Few times I thought I’d dodged an’ you’d winged my tail or my ear or somethin’. Oughta pick you up one as a back-up or somethin’."

Sharing stories and complimenting travel companions on their successes.

Granted, this is the first time he’s had the chance to do that last one.

Camp’s set up on a riverbank, in ‘known’ territory - the forest’s been dubbed the ‘vacation zone’, for casual camping and lounging, with proper survival practice taking place elsewhere. He’s got a fire going, and a pan over the fire.

A pan containing a pair of fresh fish fillets.

"Still can’t believe y’never shot ‘fore y’met me. Y’pick up things right fast."

Kate is smiling into the river.

Okay, that’s half-true. She’s smiling into the river when Tai’s looking at her - whenever he’s looking at something else, her head turns slightly, so she can gawk. It’s a nice side-effect of these camping trips, see.

The fox tends to hang around without a shirt, in nice weather - like today’s - and he’s all pretty and russet coloured. He’s pretty. He’s always pretty but this is a new kind of pretty.

It’s probably not going to last, so she’s trying to memorize the details, without getting caught. “…Y’mean a shock rifle? Ah didn’t think Ah could bring one’a them ‘round with me all ‘bout the place. Kinda seemed right specific…” Her eyes return to the river.

She’s fishing! Lazily, with a bit of cloth in her arms, she’s basically spooning fish out of the water using a spare tee shirt like a net. Tai needs a fish, now.

"Thank yew, though - ain’t touch’d a gun ‘fore Ah metcha, Ears, though Ah’d not’ve minded to, reckon. Y’all knew I’d been dreamin’a runnin’ off…"

"This’s better’n what all Ah’d dreamed up, mind…"

"Eh, s’kinda specific, but I don’t mean for stories. S’always nice to have some tricks up yer sleeve to bust out when things start breakin’. I cheat, ain’t no reason you can’t." He pauses in his frying to look up and shoot her a grin, at this.

"Ain’t sure how y’could store it, ‘less I jus’ tucked it in hammerspace an’ snagged it for ya when y’need it, but then that kinda defeats the object. Eh, I’ll figure somethin’ out."

The pan’s given an expert little flick, and the fish jump up a little before landing back down on a new coating of oil and fat.

He might not know how to cook many things, but the things he can cook he’s good at.

"Y’know, I reckon this is… ‘bout the third longest I’ve ever managed to stay alive?" He remarks lightly. Fingers snag one hot end of fish, flipping it over onto its other side, before repeating on the second, movements sharp and not quite flinchy. Slightly burnt fingertips are rubbed against jeans, both to remove oil and soothe the burn.

"Startin’ to suspect you’re showin’ off an’ tryin’ to keep me safe from my own dang self!" He laughs, before a sly grin creeps onto his muzzle, looking up from the fish to the fishercoon.

"Or are y’jus’ keepin’ me like this so y’can ogle me, huh?"

If he had any idea how right he was the irony would probably kill him.

He gets there in the end

After a long story, it’s always a good idea to take some time off.

Resetting personality back to baseline, stretching a few skills that went dormant for a while, kicking back and relaxing.

"Y’got damn good at takin’ ‘vantage of that shock rifle, li’l bit. Few times I thought I’d dodged an’ you’d winged my tail or my ear or somethin’. Oughta pick you up one as a back-up or somethin’."

Sharing stories and complimenting travel companions on their successes.

Granted, this is the first time he’s had the chance to do that last one.

Camp’s set up on a riverbank, in ‘known’ territory - the forest’s been dubbed the ‘vacation zone’, for casual camping and lounging, with proper survival practice taking place elsewhere. He’s got a fire going, and a pan over the fire.

A pan containing a pair of fresh fish fillets.

"Still can’t believe y’never shot ‘fore y’met me. Y’pick up things right fast."

areyoutryingtodeduceme:

eglads:

can’t stop drawing rude foxes

stickers and shirts on [redbubble]

fun fact: Eglads is my roommate and my partner in drawing disgruntled animals. While I was drawing dumb sharks, she was drawing rude foxes XD

Pretending to Act

ringtailedrascal:

thatfreakingfennec:

Well.

At least she’s getting the theme of the idea.

He’s got his senses trained on… basically everything.  Not his conventional senses - those are pretty firmly distracted right now - but his story senses, the sub-sense he reads the world with.

Granted, that’s pretty distracted too.

What can he say, he’s never been one to ignore kissing a cute lady.

Once he (only slightly belatedly) catches the signals of safety, however, he does make a (considerably more than slightly reluctant) attempt to break contact.

They’ve got a story to be getting on with, after all.

Kate’s mind snaps back into the present when Tai breaks away. Her eyes search his face, brows furrowed, a faint and puzzled frown on her muzzle.

Something clicks.

He didn’t seriously just -

He did, didn’t he. This was just part of the story.

Her gaze hardens, and sharpens, and her fur bristles and her teeth come to bare. She’s growling, and reaching for her shock rifle under the table when the door jingles open, and a blue-suited ‘coon tiptoes over to their table.

Hey, you lost the old windbag!" He says, with a jovial grin. Kate’s anger is diverted towards the grey-furred speaker, the one who’d landed her in this mess in the first place. "Fantastic," he continues, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "So, hey, we should get out of here probably, yeah?

Kate glances to Tai, murder still in her eyes. “Oh, you are lucky I fancy you. Truce?”

He was pretty much expecting her to be furious, really.

At least she burns hot - a few (dozen) shots with the rifle and he’ll probably be in her… tolerated graces again.

Small price to pay, really, considering.

Of course, he wasn’t really counting on the sudden save - but when the story hands you a deus ex machina, you run with it.

He’s smiling, that smug, self-assured smile he’s perfected for the story, the one that oozes equal amounts of charm and I’m-a-freaking-badass-and-I-know-it.

"Truce," he agrees - and in the same moment she moves, he’s got his gun drawn and pointed at the (probably rather alarmed) raccoon intruder.

This one’s Kate’s show, for now.

Parole

drunkenspacewolf:

thatfreakingfennec:

"I think not, personally."

The gun’s holstered, for one reason or another. Perhaps the fox is just that confident in his success, here.

"After all, with your ship and your technology to fall back on, you’ve become a little lazy, I think. A little too reliant on having a way out. Maybe it’s best you started having to get creative again, hmm?"

"After all, you’re already going to be approaching one set of problems from a new angle. May as well add more to consider!"

"Besides, it might give you something to back you up if you decide to tell anyone else about this arrangement. Now then. Is there anything else we need to discuss, or shall I leave you to your pugilism?"

"That wasn’t part of the deal!" he was angry at first, not raging, but quite upset that that little detail was left out.  But upon mentioning of leaving, he grew desperate.

"Please, don’t leave me like this! I need my tech, my ship, my home! I rely on it in ways you don’t even know! Please! I need it!" and it was clear that it wasn’t so much as a convenience as a near literal crutch for him.

He could deal with delving into a ruin too deep to transport out of, or other similar short instances without his ship that were his choice. But to have it taken from him and no end in sight as to when he’d get it back. 

His composure shattered. His foundation utterly sundered.

That was apparently a wrong answer.

The golden fire around Tai erupts into a full-blown inferno, the fox lunging forwards and seizing Tiran by the jaw in one hand, yanking him forward, nose to nose.

His grip is like a vice.

Do you want to know what else wasn’t part of the deal? -Your survival-." It’s a voice that would send lesser men screaming for the nearest church and praying desperately to whatever Gods might listen.

"Let me tell you something about deals. Do you know the deals I had to make to keep you alive? Do you know how badly you -fucked up-? I came here as a -mercy-, you ungrateful -whelp-. You’re lucky, it could have been my -mother- instead.”

"Or my -father-.”

"The main reason, the -only- reason, you came home to boxing instead of your wife’s corpse hung up on display like a piece of fucking modern art?”

"Is because I think there’s still something in you worth saving."

The flames die down, slowly, as Tai’s grip relaxes, until there’s nothing but umber fur and gunmetal grey eyes.

"The collar is your punishment for crossing me. Work at what we’ve discussed, and maybe you’ll earn its removal."

"We’ll see if an old dog can learn new tricks."

Tiran’s head is shoved to one side, roughly, breaking eye contact-

-and by the time the wolf looks around again, Tai’s vanished.