#lost fox

[scopophilic1997]

scopOphilic_micromessaging_1621 - scopOphilic1997 presents a new micro-messaging series: small, subtle, and often unintentional messages we send and receive verbally and non-verbally. (2026)

[hidden-in-the-grass]

[EMERGENCY CONTACT. VITALS OF "OUTIS" UNSTABLE. SENDING COORDINATES.]

[Coordinates attached]

-@through-the-forests

[Des' eyes widened. He rushes to grab health and regen potions and throw them in his bag along with the bandages he already had.]

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-" [He rushes out the house to the coords.] "O-Outis??" [He calls, voice whimpering slightly.]

[annoyingfox20-blog]

I'm Taurus :'D

Bad Cat,You destroyed His poor homie :'(

Ghost Catto by @zwagyzonk

[alextheredparez]

Another lil' taste of Lost Fox (David Curtin) last night at galaxy hut. #LostFox #Lost #Fox #galaxyhut #galaxy #hut

[alextheredparez]

Lil' taste of Lost Fox (David Curtin) last night at galaxy hut. #LostFox #Lost #Fox #galaxyhut #galaxy #hut

[alextheredparez]

Lost Fox (David Curtin) singing us beautiful songs last night at galaxy hut. #GalaxyHut #Galaxy #Hut #LostFox #Lost #Fox #DavidCurtin

[everything-equals-nothing-blog]

Lost in the fog.

The door to the troop transport Fox and his squad were assigned to hadn’t even opened all the way when his first squad-mate, and friend, had fallen. A stray plasma bolt had made it’s way in between the thick door and the haul of the ship and right into the chest of his friend. The last word he uttered were, “Sir… I’m scared to die…” Fox shed tears under his helmet as the trooper died in his arms. Fox grabbed the identification card from the troopers ammo pouch and slid it into his own. That would be far from the last time he did that process.

Fox picked himself up and got his head straight, he leveled his heavy blaster to the door as it continued opening. As soon as the door was leveled with his and his troopers heads, he began laying down heavy covering fire for his squad. As soon as they could, the troopers scrambled out into the forest, taking cover where they could. Although the trees were more than abundant, men still died. Fox started taking slow steps forward, still holding down the trigger on his blaster. One, two, three, four, five… Fox soon lost count of how many rebels he had killed.

Fox was more than far enough away for the troop transport to pull off, but it didn’t. He found this as odd, but pushed forward. Right as that thought ended, one of his troopers, FX-5680, yelled something he wouldn’t soon forget. “Ion torpedo, get down!”

Fox looked up momentarily to see the torpedo miss him by about a foot and go right past him, he turned to watch. His eyes widened in horror as it connected with the transport. As soon as it hit, a defining boom was sent throughout the forest.

“Brace!” Fox yelled. No one had time to even prepare. The transport exploded with violence, sending shrapnel and a strong shockwave in all directions. The half of his squad that were on backfill died instantly from the force of the shockwave, a few more were impaled. Fox had no time to mourn, he turned around to see FX-5680 and his squad getting hammered by artillery. They were behind cover, but still close to the danger. Fox fired in the direction of the artillery, hoping it would at least suppress the enemy. The artillery slowed, Fox sighed in relief, only to stop in shock and horror. A thermal detonator was thrown from somewhere behind the cover right into the center of FX-5680 and his squad. “Glasser!” (5680’s nickname) Fox yelled in horror, he didn’t even have time to finish his sentience as the detonator went off.

Fox fell to his knees, shaking. That was now most of his squad and his best friends dead. Somewhere from the darkness of the forest, a plasma bolt ripped through the right side of his helmet, only millimeters away from his face. The force from the bolt knocked him out.

Fox awoke with a jolt. He tried to look around but couldn’t see anything through his visor. He took his helmet off to see nothing but blood, fire and his dead friends. Fox slowly got up and felt the side of his head, blood stuck to his hand. He sighed and looked at the ground. “Fuck! Fuck my life! Fuck everything!” He yelled as loud as he could. He slowly made his way around the battlefield, repeating the same process he had done before, this time putting every identification card in his helmet.

Fox shook his head out of thought and back to reality. That night had taken place roughly five months ago. He looked up and grabbed the small flare gun he had salvaged from the wreckage and pointed it at the stars. He sighed and shot off his monthly flare. He ran his fingers through his now-long hair. Fox scratched his chin through his beard that had grown from his normally clean-shaven face. He felt like a wookie, living off of wild animals and a pond. All Fox wanted was to go back home to his barracks, shower, shave, and sleep. ((It’s good to be back. Feedback and constructive criticism are welcomed.))

(URL SWITCH)