The Kitsune Den

foxyfussings:

Kitsuko Master Post!

My dog, Kitsuko.  He’s an Alaskan Klee Kai (sometimes known as miniature huskies) and was born November 5, 2008.

We weights about ten pounds, and is a total brat, but cute enough to get away with it.

Famous Klee Kais: Miley Cyrus and James Maslow both own or have owned Klee Kais (Miley’s klee kai, Floyd, recently was killed by another dog of hers).  Fox Maslow (James Maslow’s dog) is closely related to Kitsuko!  “Pun Dog" is also as Alaskan Klee Kai.  As this picture of a “Baby fox” 

They were developed in Wasilla, Alaska.  The first klee kai allowed outside Alaska was in 1985.

True to huskies, they blow their coats about twice a year, they love to run, and can be nervous/hesitant around new people.  (But Kitsuko is NOT.  He’s one of the friendliest and outdoing dogs I know.  He loves EVERYONE). 

They also do not tend to bark, but are still very noisy/talkative.

Shameless cross-post

Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Relationships: James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, Steve Rogers, James Rogers, Peggy Carter
Additional Tags: Past Relationship(s), Past Character Death, Childhood Friends, Children, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe, Alternate Reality, Political Campaigns, Dimension Travel, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Angst, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Summary:

While on the run from SHIELD, The Winter Soldier focuses on destroying the last of the HYDRA outposts. However, his final mission in DC goes wrong, and Bucky find himself in an alternate reality where there is no Captain America.

Just a friendly reminder, this is where you can find all my fanfiction!

((If you read and kudos and/or comment I will love you forever!!))

araniaart:

brilcrist:



Sketch Commission~  Sabin Original character for Arania~i had so much fun doing OC again:) Thanks dear



Thank you so much, Brilcrist! I love how Sabin turned out!
This is my OC, Sabin Duvert

araniaart:

brilcrist:

Sketch Commission~ 
Sabin Original character for Arania~
i had so much fun doing OC again:)
Thanks dear

Thank you so much, Brilcrist! I love how Sabin turned out!

This is my OC, Sabin Duvert

araniaart:

My wife, foxyfussings, (as an AU PeggyCap / Femme-cap) and I (Winter Soldier) testing out how our costumes are coming along.  This isn’t the finished product for either of us, but they’re both coming along awesome I think :D 

Stucky Prompt: The Winter Soldier has been found and brought back in, but his recovery has not been going well. One possible solution- albeit an ironic one not without its moral quandaries - is somehow a different kind of wipe: given when the experimentation started, there is an option to mentally reset Bucky to a point before he was originally captured by Zola. There's debate, but ultimately Bucky is the one who wants to do it. The last time would remember seeing Steve: The Stark Expo...

foxyfussings:

Okay this one got a little out of hand because my muse latched onto it like a barnacle.

You can read it on AO3 here.

Steve Rogers paced in Tony Stark’s laboratory, his jaw swollen and lip cut and bleeding from a recent punch. A purple-black bruise was quickly spreading over his right cheekbone, and he could tell it was probably broken in several places. The sharp intake of pain when he breathed indicated that he had a least a few broken ribs, and his thigh pulsed from where he had been kicked repeatedly by a heavy, steel-toed boot. Despite all this, his heart hurt the most.

"I can’t stand to look at him like this," he said, his jaw set and a stern frown on his principled face.

Strapped to a chair, Bucky Barnes was straining against his restraints, the reenforced leather creaking under the whirr of his metal arm. Sweat beaded down his face, his teeth grinding as he struggled. His eyes were cold, set on Steve.

Tony Stark and Bruce Banner exchanged glances to each other. “You know what we have to do,” Tony started. Bruce looked away, not wanting to see the look in Steve’s eyes. This whole situation was hitting close to home for him.

"No," Steve said firmly, pointing his finger accusingly at the well dressed man who both infuriated him and yet he felt some kind of involuntary friendship with. "I’m not going to do that to him. Not again."

"It’s been three months," Bruce said quietly, glancing to Tony for reassurance. It was hard for him to talk about, knowing that he had his own demons. "Its getting worse. He’s remembering everything, Steve. Not just who he is, but everything they did to him…"

Steve’s jaw clenched, and he felt a lump rise in his throat. He knew, too. He had seen the files Natasha had furnished him, and even he knew that just scratched the surface of was ‘official’ in the HYDRA files. He could read between the lines, and he could hear Bucky cry out in his sleep. He saw the look in Bucky’s eyes when Alexander Pierce’s name was dropped, and the internal turmoil of guilt, shame, and fear that raged inside him. Steve wanted to punch something just thinking about it. It wasn’t fair - no one should go through the horrors he had seen. 70 years of torture, abuse, beating… assaults.

"Where am I?"

The three men looked in turn to the man strapped to the examination chair now. Bucky’s expression had gone from blind cold rage to the panicked sorrow. He flexed against his restraints and confused tears began to fall from his eyes. “What are you doing to me?” he choked out, looking between them all. “Steve? Steve is that you? What are they doing to me! Help me!”

Steve covered his mouth his hand, taking every ounce of his restraint to hold himself together. “Bucky,” he finally said after a moment, taking a few steps towards him. “Hey, Buck.” He dropped to his haunches, putting himself in a position to look up into his terrified face. “Just a few more minutes and we’ll let you outta here, okay?”

"Help me…" he whimpered, his head dropping down and openly sobbing.

Steve had to blink back tears of his own before he stood up and faced the two scientists again. “You can control it,” he said pointedly to Bruce. “You can help him.”

”I wasn’t tor-” Bruce stopped, looking nervously over at Bucky who had gone quiet, his head slumped against his chest, his face obscured by his long brown hair. “I didn’t go through what he did.”

”He belongs in the Fridge,” a cool voice said from behind. The three men turned to see Maria Hill standing at the doorway to the lab, her hands resting firmly on her jutted hips.

Steve started towards her, stilled only when Tony cooly reached out and took him by the arm. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to allow that,” he spat.

"Rogers, you’re too close to this. What are we supposed to do with him? No mental institution can hold him. We can’t remove his arm - which is a dangerous weapon - and we can’t even sedate him because of his healing ability. We’re out of options, we can’t just have you babysit him 24/7 until he beats the crap out of you."

Steve opened his mouth to refute Maria’s claim that he couldn’t take care of him, but Tony interjected. “We do have one option.”

”No,” Steve said quickly, jerking his gaze to him.

"What is it?" Maria asked.

Tony gave the cue to Bruce. “We were able to reverse engineer some of the equipment HYDRA used for his conditioning. I think we could use it to…reset him, so to speak. They used a mix of electroshock therapy and the serum derivatives to almost, well, selectively wipe his memory and personality centers of his brain.”

He paused to look around the room. Steve had turned his back to the conversation already, and was attending to Bucky. He gently wiped his chin where he had drooled some in his panic, and tendering brushed the hair away from his face. Tony and Maria were continuing to look expectantly at Dr. Banner.

"There’s a chance, with a larger electrical shock and therapy we could effectively wipe all his memories after a certain point - when Zola got his claws in him. It would be, risky, to say the least."

"What kind of risky?" Maria asked sharply.

"Well, for one we’d lose all chances of getting any Hydra intel from him. But, ultimately, we zap him too hard and he’ll be a vegetable. If it doesn’t kill him outright."

There was a heavy silence in the air except for a worried utterance from Bucky, who sounded much more like a child than a grown man at this point. “What are they talking about, Steve?”

"I’ll talk to Coulson," Maria said tersely, and turned to leave.

"It’s not Coulson’s choice!" Steve barked after her, his rage building.

"Sorry, Cap. But SHIELD disagrees."

((Will there be more?  Yes, there will be.  Feel free to keep sending prompts, though.  I like working on several prompts at once))

More fanfiction?

More fanfiction.

Just a reminder…

I’ve gotten a few new followers recently (WHICH IS AWESOME I LOVE YOU), but if you want to follow my personal stuff (like reblogs, rants, and over fangirly things) my personal blog is here.

Someone give me a Stucky fanfic prompt

foxyfussings:

whydouwantaname:

foxyfussings:

I’ll writcha a little vignette.  I desperately need something to focus on right now or else I’m going to throw up from stress.

Bucky trying to make Steve drunk until Steve just acts like drunk, so they can go home! ^_-

 “You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?” 

“Hell no. That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight. I’m following him.”

Bucky was jealous of Steve in almost every way possible.  Though Bucky had already seen more war than Steve, Steve was a master at it.  A master tactician in addition to his - literally - perfect physical prowess.  He also had a drive and sense of optimism that was hard to find in the trenches; even to the most dedicated and patriotic of soldiers.

Bucky knocked back another shot, letting his alcohol muddled mind drift to some of his darker and more secret recesses.  His eyes were half-lidded, lazily gazing up and down the Captain looking especially sharp in his army browns.  

Peggy.

Peggy was here in her perfect red dress looking like some kind of perfect….thing.  

Bucky’s expression darkened as she ignored him; blatantly and obviously and her eyes focused squarely on Steve.  His Steve.  

He pretended he was angry that she didn’t notice him.  That’s what he always did at bars anyway; pretended.  He had to - having grown up in the closest thing to a gay neighborhood in Brooklyn; two young men living together.  One of them small and blonde and pretty and artsy - overcompensation was a defense mechanism.  Always chase the skirts, and maybe the bullies wouldn’t notice that he was always looking over his shoulder at his friend.

But the whiskey was getting to him.  He didn’t usually drink this much; too much was on the line.  He had to stay sharp so he could jump into a fight if someone tried to start something with Steve.  He couldn’t risk losing his job at the docks, either… his meager pay paid the rent for both of them usually.

But fuck it - this was war.  Bucky had gotten a letter earlier that day, detailing how some of guys he had become friends with in Basic had died.  He couldn’t even seem to muster the energy to cry for them; all he could think about was how he would feel if that letter had said a different name: Steven G. Rogers.

"Have another round," Bucky called to Steve after the red dress had left.  He pounded his finger down on the bar and signaled to the barkeeper.  Steve should be feeling it by now, too, right?  Hell, back in the old days half a beer would be enough to have Steve giggling like an idiot. 

But what Bucky didn’t know was that Steve couldn’t get drunk.  Steve knew this, but he accepted Bucky’s offer anyway.  It was a fun juxtaposition; he wasn’t used to watching Bucky be the one losing his common sense while he stayed sober.  Surprisingly, he kind of liked it.

It was many hours later before they were stumbling out of the bar.  Bucky could barely stand, but Steve was there to help him out.  Though, this was also several hours into Bucky’s plan to seduce Steve.  Surprising his taller blonde friend, Bucky hastily pulled Steve into the alley behind the bar and pushed him up against the brick.

"Bucky?" he asked, surprised.  He swallowed nervously - his very acute and sober mind having picked up several drinks ago that Bucky seemed to be trying to get him drunk; trying to get his walls to come down.  Looking at him, letting his hands rest of his knees.  He had seen this dance before - Bucky used it to pick up girls.

Bucky leaned against Steve and pressed his lips against Steve’s firmly - throwing all caution into the wind.  He could die tomorrow - or worse - Steve could die tomorrow and Bucky wasn’t at the state of mind to deal with that reality right now.  

Steve was surprised, his clear blue eyes widening for a moment before he relaxed a bit into the kiss.  His eyes slipped close and his arms came up to gently cradle Bucky’s elbows.  He could taste the burn of the whiskey on Bucky’s tongue as it pressed along his lips hungrily.  Despite his better judgements, Steve granted it entrance into his mouth, letting his jaw fall open.

For several minutes, Steve convinced himself that maybe Erskine was wrong - maybe he was wrong and he was drunk and that’s why he wasn’t pulling away from Bucky’s drunk, wet, intoxicating kisses.  That would be the only reasonable explanation why he was leaning into his body and feeling it respond; his arms coming up to cradle Bucky’s head and allowing his fingers to weave through his thick brown hair. 

But when Bucky’s shaky hands began to fumble with Steve’s belt buckle, he couldn’t lie to himself any longer.  He reluctantly pulled away, breaking the kiss and stilling Bucky’s hands with his own.

"Please…"  Bucky’s warm and husky plea against the soft skin of Steve’s neck was almost enough for Steve to abort his plan; but of course he couldn’t.  He choked back a whimper of disappointment shaking his head.  He just couldn’t do it.

"Bucky, you’re drunk," he finally mustered to say.  

Bucky laughed.  “I know.  So are you…”

Steve winced with guilt.  He wasn’t, not even close.  But man, he surely wished he was; wished he was drunk enough to throw his inhibitions in the wind and succumb to his desires.  Drunk enough not to know that this was wrong and stupid and dangerous - especially right here in the alleyway.  Drunk enough to pretend he didn’t know exactly where this was going…

"No, Buck," he said softly, pushing him away as gently as he could muster.  "I’m sorry, but you’re not in any state to…" he couldn’t finish the sentence, his face flushing.

"Fuck, Steve, I’m sorry," Bucky said, trying to sober himself up by rubbing his hands over his face.  "Fuck… what was I… I mean, I…” panic was started to slip in, as he seemed to realize the array of consequences he may have just opened up. 

"Don’t worry about it!" Steve said, plastering on his supportive and optimistic friend-face.  He squeezed Bucky’s shoulder and patted him firmly on the back, trying to communicate that he wasn’t going to be weird about this.

Right?

He let Bucky lean against him and they stumbled their way back.  Tomorrow morning was going to bring one hell of a hangover; and they had a train to catch.  Maybe… maybe they could revisit this later.  After they had talked.  After they were both sober and Steve had a chance to sort through all the conflicting and exciting emotions surging through him.

Tomorrow.  After the mission.

After the train.

Actually kind of proud of this one.

Steve has been helping Bucky slowly reclaim some of his lost memories with a lot of patience. He decides to try to take him somewhere at least vaguely familiar from childhood - namely the piers at Coney Island. Including such activities as riding the Cyclone (again), and absolutely killing it at bottle tosses

foxyfussings:

"Well, you didn’t throw up at least?" Bucky said with a small grin, elbowing his friend in the side as they walked away from the rickety wooden roller coaster.

Steve scoffed, running a hand through his short blonde hair, his gait strong and steady but still feeling shaken from coming off the coaster.  While his new body was certainly built for rumbles and falls, it didn’t make it any easier.  He had been thrown around and tossed about and fallen out of more planes than he cared to already, and he still didn’t exactly see the point of doing it for fun.  But at least it made Bucky smile and he was thoroughly enjoying spending the day with his old friend. 

They were both incognito; Steve in his navy blue hoodie and Bucky with his hair tied into a messy ponytail and a black baseball cap shoved lowed on his head.  However, in exchange for Steve riding the Cyclone again, he had agreed to wear one of Steve’s old “Captain America” long sleeved t-shirts.  It was worth it, just for the look on his face.

Bucky was lost in his head soon after, however; his eyes washing over the throngs of children as they ran around - waist-height and sticky with cotton candy and hotdog condiments.  It was any particular thing; but the whole picture was resonating deep in his mind and heart;  memories of sights and sounds and tastes from the fair.  This was always such a treat for him; Steve and Bucky saving their allowance for weeks and spending hours carefully mapping out where each and every penny would go: what games they would play and what food they eat and what rides they would ride and…

He was jerked out of memory lane by Steve nudging him towards a bottle toss.  “Hey, Bucky!” he called - the childlike sparkle in his eyes was enough to lift Bucky’s spirits.  The blonde man dug in his pocket and pulled out a few crumbled ones, handing it off to the carnival jockey and picking up the beanbag.  He tossed the soft and floppy bag in his hand, before handing it to Bucky.  “Go on,” he said with a grin.  “Knock over the milk bottles.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow.  “Want me to win you a prize?” he said with a teasing grin.  He just remembered it wouldn’t be the first time.

Stepping up to the line, his expression went sober as he felt the weight in his hands and calculated the distance between them and the bottles and tossed the bag their way.  His eyes flashed with anger as the bad hit dead and center between the stacked milk bottles, but it didn’t budge.  The weighted things barely budged under the throw, despite how good the aim.  “What a scam,” he growled, and picked up the second bag.

There was a twinkle in Steve’s eye as he looked around quickly, then leaned in and whispered something in Bucky’s ear.  Bucky’s eyes darkened and in a split second there was a sound of an electric whirring and then seemingly instantly all three of the weighted milk bottles clattered to the ground as he hurled the beanbag with his left arm with an alarming force.

Steve clapped his hands over his mouth in surprise, and trying to suppress a laugh as several people around began clapping.  Bucky blinked, surprised at himself, and sheepishly accepted the giant stuffed giraffe that came as the prize.

Steve couldn’t believe it worked…all he had done was tell him what his mission was.  He shouldn’t have manipulated him like that, but, he just looked too damn cute walking around the fair with that five foot tall purple and pink giraffe toy. 

Someone give me a Stucky fanfic prompt

foxyfussings:

I’ll writcha a little vignette.  I desperately need something to focus on right now or else I’m going to throw up from stress.