The Kitsune Den
Puzzle Pieces

"Puzzle Pieces"
Spoilers: Captain America: The Winter Soldier
by Kamiki (http://kamiki77.tumblr.com

It had only been about 36 hours since the helicarrier had gone down. The asset hadn’t been out of cryo this long since the initial testing and experiment phase, and he was beginning to understand why: like putting together a jigsaw puzzle, The Asset was beginning to remember.

It came in flashes: sometimes no more than a sentence or two at a time. They were out of order, too. Eating spaghetti at a table across from a tiny blonde boy while a woman… a mother… his mother(?) opened a bottle of pop. Then he was thirty stories up; a long-range sniper rifle balanced on his shoulder as he watched a fat politician through the sight. Then he was dancing in a crowded dance hall, two women seeming to vie for his attention while he daydreamed, staring out the door, as if he was waiting for someone else to show up.

On the subway he had found a long-forgotten, ratty hoodie; it would have to do for the time being. He found someone under a bridge who had traded a pair of blue jeans for his leather jacket. He kept the Kevlar undersuit; undoubtedly Pierce would be looking for him. Pierce had made it very clear what would happen if he defied him.

So why was he wandering aimlessly around the streets of DC instead of going to the rendezvous point? His communications had gone dead after the hellicarriers went down. He had pulled a newspaper out of the trash and it seemed like everything had gone to hell. If Pierce wasn’t looking for him, someone would be.

Someone.

No. The real reason he abandoned his post was him. The man on the bridge. The man in the hellicarrier. The man in the star-spangled uniform.

The Asset closed his eyes and tried to remember the file… Alias: Captain America.

Another puzzle piece fell into place. He was huddled in some barracks somewhere. ‘Check this toon out’ someone says and tosses him a book. A comic book. A man in a red, white and blue uniform punches Hitler in the face. He flips it over and there’s an advertisement for War Bonds on the back cover. A drastically more detailed, handsome man is asking the reader to buy Bonds. He looks vaguely familiar. He has a shield. It’s the same man that was on the bridge…

Captain America. How could Captain America have known him? He said they were friends, but none of the puzzle pieces he had found yet had Captain America on them.

Bucky. That was what he had said his name was. Who the hell was Bucky? Could that really be his real name? James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. Bucky Barnes…

A few dozen more flashes of memory and the soldier doubled over and grabbed the side of his head.

“Bucky! You come inside right this instant!” a woman yells sternly, standing in the doorway and wiping her flour-covered hands on an apron.

“Bucky!” A pretty blonde woman shouts at a fair, waving to get his attention.

“I can take care of myself, Bucky,” a small blonde boy says as he wipes away blood running from his nose.

James Buchanan Barnes!” A man says in a low, serious voice as he waves a handful of dirty postcards in his face that he had pulled out from under his bed.

He didn’t even know he was gritting his teeth until a passerby spoke to him, pulling him out of his head, “You OK, man?” the teenaged boy in a FuBu hoodie asked, looking more amused than concerned. The asset didn’t answer him; he just turned and walked away.

Night was settling in, and his body ached. Running his hands through his hair, he wandered until he found a quiet alley and sat down, letting his head lean against the scratchy brick of the building, and finally let himself get a few hours of sleep.

It rained during the night, and when he woke up he was soaked down to the skin. He sighed, but it wasn’t the first time he would have to keep on like this. Generally, he wouldn’t change or bathe until a mission was over. Then he’d be taken back to the lab, unceremoniously stripped and hastily hosed off in the room’s chemical shower before his pre-cryo electroshock treatment.

That wasn’t an option here of course. Instead, he just figured he would walk around in the sun until he dried off. As he strolled down the Mall, a big banner caught his eye: Captain America. An exclusive exhibit was being advertised at the Smithsonian.

He hesitated; his hand plunged into his pockets. There was a lump in his throat as he considered whether or not he wanted to pull on that thread. It may not lead anywhere… or worse it could give him answers he wasn’t ready to hear. But that face was staring at him, the man on the bridge’s face, begging him to see. To remember.

He made his way in, ignoring the unsavory looks from tourists. The security guards frowned at him and shook their heads – he knew they would be watching him closely to make sure he wouldn’t be harassing the patrons for handouts.

He barely noticed the other exhibits. His hooded eyes darted around, looking for the bright red, white, and blue banners that pointed him to the Captain America exhibit. When he finally turned the corner and entered the floor, he was nearly knocked back by the flashes of sights and sounds. It was nearly sensory overload there was the Captain standing there behind his mannequin. The Winter Soldier felt his chest tighten as he walked further into the panoramic displays of text, videos and images.

The name caught his eye. Off to the right was a display with an eerily familiar face. James Buchanan Barnes. Inseparable in both the schoolyard and the battlefield. It was true staring at him right in the face. His mind tumbled: more flashes of memories.

Steve. Steve.

That name rattled around in his head. He could hear that name in his head, in his own voice. But it still didn’t fit. It didn’t fit until…

He turned around and came nose to nose with a holographic display that showed the stunning change. Before he was this statuesque Adonis, he was a tiny, sickly, towheaded, bent little boy.

Steve Rogers.
His friend. His best friend.

Endless memories of childhood came flooding back. That little boy who couldn’t back down from a fight – who lost his parents young and tried not to let the world crush him. He knew him. He had spent countless hours in detention due to that punk kid who stole his heart the first time he laid eyes on him. He was his. His responsibility. His best friend. A small sickly boy that Bucky admired because all that the world ever gave him was hardship, but he never, ever, let the badness of the world break his spirit. He honestly couldn’t have known how long he stood there; the puzzle was taking shape, slowly, still missing major gaps. With Steve came childhood, his parents, schoolmates, and girlfriends.

He was standing there, motionless, with silent tears streaming down his face. Suddenly, his hand was over his mouth, coking back sobs and shoulders shaking. It only stopped when he felt something latch onto his knees. The Soldier reacted, snapping out of his flashbacks and his left arm reaching up with an electronic whirr. Thankfully, his reaction time was fast, for the thing latching around his knees was a small three year old boy, dressed in a little Iron Man shirt. He was looking up at him with big hazel eyes and puffy cheeks.

It will be akay,” the boy said with a pat. Bucky was frozen: eyes red and wide, arm still poised in the striking position.

“Jonathan!” A woman shrieked, snatching back the child and shuffling away, mumbling to the boy about talking to strangers. Bucky let out a shuddering breath, suddenly realizing that people were beginning to stare.

“You a soldier?”


His eyes went over to another gentleman with pitted mocha skin and salt-and-pepper hair.

Bucky slowly lowered his arm, pulling the sleeve self-consciously over his hand to hide the metallic glint. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. The man was already pulling a card out of his wallet.

“I go to a support group at the VA. They can probably help you, friend,” he said, pressing a VA business card and a $20 bill into his palm.

Bucky’s eyes dropped to his hand, then his eyes darted back up to the friendly stranger before he finally managed a shaky nod and he quickly scuttled away, shoving the card and the money deep into his pockets. It wouldn’t be the last time he would come to visit the Smithsonian: the closest he dared get to feeling his connection to the man on the bridge again.

foxyfussings:

Evee and Pepper snuggling.

foxyfussings:

Evee and Pepper snuggling.

Den Maurlias by Virus-AC

'm just appalled by this whole ordeal; especially since I've previously heard nothing but good things. I can't believe how much their “apology” just highlights the EXACT reason they are so, so, so wrong.

Who honestly thinks a straight, CIS man is going to dress up as a woman and try to pass as a woman “imposter” to *maybe* catch a glimpse of some ladies trying on bras. MMm….sexy? Tape measures and body issues really do it for some people I guess? Dear lord, I’m sorry, if you’re that desperate then take a good look, because I feel sorry for you. But the answer, as they point out, is NO ONE and this is just the same phobic rhetoric you hear over and over.

Even all the transgender issues aside, they mention that women who have mastectomies are expected to use a separate dressing area as to not offend other patrons? What the actual fuck?

What’s next? No fat girls - they may be repulsive to “normal” women. What about old women? Or just generally unattractive woman? Where does it end?

::Commish: Sabin+Den for Arania by Clover-Doe
Now Open for Writing Commissions!

Hey guys! I’m officially open for writing and coloring commissions. Though I’m feeling much more inspired by writing at the moment. But if you’re interested in coloring commissions, please message me!

Writing Commissions:

What is it: A chapter or short story, written to your specifications. Will do fanfiction or original characters. It can be dramatic or steamy (or both). Each page (500 - 600 words) is $10, and you can buy up to 10 at a time.

I will write fanfiction for any series, whether or not I’m familiar with the source material, but you will have to provide me much more character info for series I’m not familiar with. Some popular series I am confidently familiar with: My Little Pony, The X-Files, Game of Thrones, Sherlock (BBC), Portal/Portal 2, Jurassic Park, Oz, Firefly, any animated Disney feature, L&O: SVU, Pushing Daisies, Lord of the Rings (movies), Pirates of the Caribbean, Harry Potter, and LOTS more - please feel free to ask!

I’m comfortable writing general audience or adult/erotica.  I’m fine with human, furry/anthro, yaoi, yuri… almost anything.  I’m not comfortable with shota or lolli, and a few other very adult fetishes.  Please feel free to ask if you want to know if I’ll write your concept.  You can find my NSFW writing at FurAffinity or Hentai Foundry.

Please note me at DA, HF, or FA if you’re interested.
A lovely shout-out to my beautiful wife, who has finally encouraged  me to actually give this a try.  <3 

Even if you can’t buy a commission, I would really appreciate some reblogs or references :)  Thanks!

steinntroll:

Monster Anju and Isaac Clarke have a good time together :D

Anju commissioned by Arania

Do you think that sexuality is fluid??
Anonymous

ellosteph:

Absolutely. There are no limits when it comes to love, only exceptions. I know a girl who has always identified as straight, and fell in love with her now fiancé (who is a woman). She said she can’t see herself with another woman besides her. I know lesbians who one day meet that one man who is an exception.
Never hold yourself back from dating someone who could make you happy because you feel obligated to confine yourself to a label. They could be that one exception who changes your entire life

So true.  I never considered myself anything other than straight until I met my now-wife.  Since then I’ve learned a lot about my sexuality and I definitely think it has changed greatly as I’ve gotten older.  (but I still love my wife most of all!  But being open about our sexuality has brought us even closer :)

steinntroll:

Commissioned work in progress. 

steinntroll:

Commissioned work in progress. 

30 Day OTP Challenge [previous][next]Day 2
"Cuddling"
Lieutenant Den Maurlias leaned against the tree, blowing into his gloved hands and hugging his arms to himself as the cutting cold ripped through the dense forest, shaking the trees and their leaves in its wake. His prisoner, Sabin Duvert, sat a few feet from him; as far as the magical chain that bound him to his captor would allow. Den had walked these dark forests many times in his life; but this time it seemed different.



“We&#8217;re far enough out that we should be safe,” he said, looking into the woods. He looked over to his ward who was glowering back at him. Sabin crossed his arms and looked out into the darkness. “With the sun setting,” Den continued, “It&#8217;s going to get even colder, and fast.”



“Taking me to my exile in the middle of winter doesn’t seem like such a good idea now, does it?” Sabin snarked. Having grown up in the mountainous regions of the Alps in France, he was fairly tolerant of the cold. Nonetheless, it was certainly uncomfortable without a fire or shelter from the wind.



“I&#8217;m just following orders,” Den muttered, blowing into his gloved hands again. He was fairly certain they would be far enough out from the Dream Border to not have to worry about Anju, but Sabin&#8217;s presence was throwing off his magical detection – a tattoo like marking on his chest – so he was worried that if an Anju did show up, he wouldn&#8217;t be able to tell they were coming. This nervousness wasn&#8217;t showing on his stoic face, but Sabin could tell. Nervousness was akin to fear: something Sabin could sense. He could feel the twittering, dull, muzzing on his consciousness. “We should make camp.”



Sabin gestured hopelessly, what did he expect him to do? Den sighed and secured his mithril chain-leash to the tree. “Please, don&#8217;t make trouble,” the lieutenant said to him sternly. Securing his sword by his side, Den headed out to gather kindling.    



The white-haired man sighed in resigned defeat.  He had already tried, and the enchanted mithril chain rendered his ability to escape, even in his shadow form, futile.  He watched the snow flurries begin to come down and shifted his weight, trying to get more comfortable on the cold, hard ground.  He knew his sour attitude was grating on his captor, and deep-down, Sabin knew he should be grateful.  All things considered, exile from the Fae Realm was probably the best-scenario for his capture.  The sole purpose of the Border Guards was to protect the realm from Anju, and they had no idea how to handle Sabin - a strange half human, half Anju hybrid.  Had the Fae held him for all his crimes before his merging, he would have been lucky to escape with his life at all.  



Actually, Lieutenant Maurlias was his most vocal advocate.  He was instrumental in convincing the Council that he shouldn’t be executed because he hadn’t actually killed any Fae since his merging with the human, and pointing out that executing Sabin would only mean another Anju would eventually come take his place - and this one they wouldn’t be able to reason with.



That’s probably why the Captain of the Guard, Captain Versaine, charged Maurlias with escorting him to the Border to send him back into Reality.  Sabin wasn’t a master of subtlety, but he had his suspicions that there was no love lost between Captain Versaine and his first lieutenant.  



A few minutes later, Den returned with his kindling and went about making the fire in silence.  The hot flames of the campfire went a long way to spare them from the bitter cold, but with the snow coming down harder now, Sabin still found himself shivering heavily.  Den had a bedroll layed out by the fire, and had given Sabin a blanket, but the temperate kept dropping without mercy.



“This is very uncharacteristic for this time of year,” Den finally said as the darkness swallowed the forest completely.  Even the flames of the fire seemed to have trouble piercing through the thick blackness of the Border forest.   His voice was shaking, unable to stop the chattering of his own teeth.  



“Well, if I freeze to death, I don’t think your lovely Captain will be too upset,” Sabin growled, pulling the blanket tighter. 



Den frowned, but didn’t answer.  His bedroll was as close to the fire as he was comfortable moving it, but he still found himself shivering in the uncharacteristic chill of the night air.  They waited in silence for what seemed like hours; the minutes slogging by.  The cold had plunged long past uncomfortable and was approaching downright painful, even for the more cold-hardy Sabin.



“We need to make sure we stay warm,” Den finally said into the blackness.  



Sabin looked over to him, his eyes seeing perfectly in the dark.  He had tried to huddle up in the curved roots of a nearby tree, but it was doing little to shield him from the cold with his one measly blanket.   



With a sigh, and a small uptick of fear Sabin felt, Den pulled back the thicker blanket of his bedroll.  Survival training was mandatory for the Borderguards, and this was something he had done many times before, only… never with a captive.  



And certainly never with an Anju.



Sabin cocked his head, and found himself grinning deviously despite himself.  “Really?  You trust me, an Anju?”



Den flustered, clenching his jaw.  What choice did he have?  It was trust Sabin or freeze.  “Would you rather sleep in the snow?”



Sabin shook his head, grabbing his blanket and scooting closer to the Eldhe soldier.  He also knew that sharing body heat with a companion was one of the best ways to fight off hypothermia if you caught yourself out in the winter.  He slid behind the smaller man in the bedroll, adding his blanket on top for extra protection.  



Den stiffened, uncomfortable with an Anju so close… feeling his breath on the back of his neck and the demanding tingle of his mark.  He felt an unwelcome blush crawl across his skin as Sabin pulled in incredibly close, hooking his arms around his waist.  But he couldn’t deny that it was already much more tolerably warm in the little cocoon of the bedroll.



Sabin didn’t say anything, either, but was grateful for the extra warmth and…the trust.  Thought he wouldn’t admit it, part of him was rather touched that the dedicated fusspot Maurlias seemed to truly believe him that he wasn’t a danger; despite his whole life having been dedicated to the extermination of his shadowy species.



It wasn’t long before they were finally able to find sleep.  Seeking heat, and comfort, it wasn’t long before their unconscious bodies wrapped up together, shielding each other from the dark, cold, bitter winter storm.

30 Day OTP Challenge [previous][next]
Day 2

"Cuddling"

Lieutenant Den Maurlias leaned against the tree, blowing into his gloved hands and hugging his arms to himself as the cutting cold ripped through the dense forest, shaking the trees and their leaves in its wake. His prisoner, Sabin Duvert, sat a few feet from him; as far as the magical chain that bound him to his captor would allow. Den had walked these dark forests many times in his life; but this time it seemed different.

“We’re far enough out that we should be safe,” he said, looking into the woods. He looked over to his ward who was glowering back at him. Sabin crossed his arms and looked out into the darkness. “With the sun setting,” Den continued, “It’s going to get even colder, and fast.”

“Taking me to my exile in the middle of winter doesn’t seem like such a good idea now, does it?” Sabin snarked. Having grown up in the mountainous regions of the Alps in France, he was fairly tolerant of the cold. Nonetheless, it was certainly uncomfortable without a fire or shelter from the wind.

“I’m just following orders,” Den muttered, blowing into his gloved hands again. He was fairly certain they would be far enough out from the Dream Border to not have to worry about Anju, but Sabin’s presence was throwing off his magical detection – a tattoo like marking on his chest – so he was worried that if an Anju did show up, he wouldn’t be able to tell they were coming. This nervousness wasn’t showing on his stoic face, but Sabin could tell. Nervousness was akin to fear: something Sabin could sense. He could feel the twittering, dull, muzzing on his consciousness. “We should make camp.”

Sabin gestured hopelessly, what did he expect him to do? Den sighed and secured his mithril chain-leash to the tree. “Please, don’t make trouble,” the lieutenant said to him sternly. Securing his sword by his side, Den headed out to gather kindling.    

The white-haired man sighed in resigned defeat.  He had already tried, and the enchanted mithril chain rendered his ability to escape, even in his shadow form, futile.  He watched the snow flurries begin to come down and shifted his weight, trying to get more comfortable on the cold, hard ground.  He knew his sour attitude was grating on his captor, and deep-down, Sabin knew he should be grateful.  All things considered, exile from the Fae Realm was probably the best-scenario for his capture.  The sole purpose of the Border Guards was to protect the realm from Anju, and they had no idea how to handle Sabin - a strange half human, half Anju hybrid.  Had the Fae held him for all his crimes before his merging, he would have been lucky to escape with his life at all.  

Actually, Lieutenant Maurlias was his most vocal advocate.  He was instrumental in convincing the Council that he shouldn’t be executed because he hadn’t actually killed any Fae since his merging with the human, and pointing out that executing Sabin would only mean another Anju would eventually come take his place - and this one they wouldn’t be able to reason with.

That’s probably why the Captain of the Guard, Captain Versaine, charged Maurlias with escorting him to the Border to send him back into Reality.  Sabin wasn’t a master of subtlety, but he had his suspicions that there was no love lost between Captain Versaine and his first lieutenant.  

A few minutes later, Den returned with his kindling and went about making the fire in silence.  The hot flames of the campfire went a long way to spare them from the bitter cold, but with the snow coming down harder now, Sabin still found himself shivering heavily.  Den had a bedroll layed out by the fire, and had given Sabin a blanket, but the temperate kept dropping without mercy.

“This is very uncharacteristic for this time of year,” Den finally said as the darkness swallowed the forest completely.  Even the flames of the fire seemed to have trouble piercing through the thick blackness of the Border forest.   His voice was shaking, unable to stop the chattering of his own teeth.  

“Well, if I freeze to death, I don’t think your lovely Captain will be too upset,” Sabin growled, pulling the blanket tighter. 

Den frowned, but didn’t answer.  His bedroll was as close to the fire as he was comfortable moving it, but he still found himself shivering in the uncharacteristic chill of the night air.  They waited in silence for what seemed like hours; the minutes slogging by.  The cold had plunged long past uncomfortable and was approaching downright painful, even for the more cold-hardy Sabin.

“We need to make sure we stay warm,” Den finally said into the blackness.  

Sabin looked over to him, his eyes seeing perfectly in the dark.  He had tried to huddle up in the curved roots of a nearby tree, but it was doing little to shield him from the cold with his one measly blanket.   

With a sigh, and a small uptick of fear Sabin felt, Den pulled back the thicker blanket of his bedroll.  Survival training was mandatory for the Borderguards, and this was something he had done many times before, only… never with a captive.  

And certainly never with an Anju.

Sabin cocked his head, and found himself grinning deviously despite himself.  “Really?  You trust me, an Anju?”

Den flustered, clenching his jaw.  What choice did he have?  It was trust Sabin or freeze.  “Would you rather sleep in the snow?”

Sabin shook his head, grabbing his blanket and scooting closer to the Eldhe soldier.  He also knew that sharing body heat with a companion was one of the best ways to fight off hypothermia if you caught yourself out in the winter.  He slid behind the smaller man in the bedroll, adding his blanket on top for extra protection.  

Den stiffened, uncomfortable with an Anju so close… feeling his breath on the back of his neck and the demanding tingle of his mark.  He felt an unwelcome blush crawl across his skin as Sabin pulled in incredibly close, hooking his arms around his waist.  But he couldn’t deny that it was already much more tolerably warm in the little cocoon of the bedroll.

Sabin didn’t say anything, either, but was grateful for the extra warmth and…the trust.  Thought he wouldn’t admit it, part of him was rather touched that the dedicated fusspot Maurlias seemed to truly believe him that he wasn’t a danger; despite his whole life having been dedicated to the extermination of his shadowy species.

It wasn’t long before they were finally able to find sleep.  Seeking heat, and comfort, it wasn’t long before their unconscious bodies wrapped up together, shielding each other from the dark, cold, bitter winter storm.