You want an adoption prompt? Alright... Adoption prompt: Mr. Big (or maybe Koslov) literally made young Nick part of the family.
-LOUD HAPPY SCREAMING- This is legit something I have wanted to write since I like first saw Zootopia. It’s like a headcanon I have, and now I get to share!
Sunday breakfast at Orso’s was a Big family tradition.
Right after morning mass. Way before the restaurant actually opened for the public. The Bigs were there, enjoying whatever the genius chief, Anatoli had made specially for them. Celebrating life and whatever victories and stories were thrown out. Business was the furthest thing form their minds.
Mr. Big was not about to have that ruined.
Especially by some shinny fox a bus boy discovered while shoveling so snow in the front of the stop.
Sighing, he glanced up at the fox, as one of lieutenants theorizes it to be the act of the Lupi Grigi on their terf. The thing was barely even alive. They were curled up on themselves, tightly for every bit of warmth. They had weak labored breaths as they shook ever so slightly. He could seen the wounds on their back, the tears of claws in their shirts, and the red that had pulled around them.
Mr. Big frowned at the dark red discoloring the lovely snow, snow his daughter and been pleading to play in. Now it’s all ruined. Just like his breakfast.
“Move ‘em else where,” Mr. Big instructed.
That was his plan. Move the fox somewhere else to die. Somewhere else, were it honestly won’t matter to Big if someone found them dead or alive. Clean up the blood and carry on like it was any other Sunday. It was a good plan, a smart plan. Guarenteed to keep the police away from his business.
Or that was the plan, till the door opened, and his Grandmama walked out.
She saw the body before anyone and even really do anything. Gasping sharply at the sight. “La povera volpe” she uttered.
“Grandmama,” Big started instistantly as he moved to stop the old shrew from advancing more. “Go back inside with the others.”
However his grandmother simply moved around. Carefully walking around the red snow. She lightly laid her paw on the fox’s snout once she reached it. The fox didn’t even budge.
“You’re must help him, il mio bambino,” Grandmama returned levelly.
“There is nothing I can do,” Big returned. The fox should be dead. Temperatures were at record lows the previous night, and the blood loss alone. There was no doubt in his mind the fox was going to die, nothing he could do. “They’re going to die. It’s out of my paws.”
His grandmother looked down sadly at the fox. Gently running her paws over the fur of his snout. “Don’t let them die on the street.” She said suddenly. “Alone and forgotten. Spare them that.”
Big opened his mouth to compromise at at least dumping the fox off at hospital. However he could already see the look in his grandmother’s eyes. The old shrew had already settled on taking the fox in his last few moments of life. And she was going to eventually convince him into agreeing with him. There was nothing left put to agree.
“Take the fox to my home and see that they are tended too.” Big commanded, snapping his fingers at two of his polar bear guards.
“I don’t think he’ll make it past dinner time.” The Doc declared as he packed his things into his bag. The wolverine leaned in closer to Big before whispering, “He’ll won’t last till lunch.”
Big nod, the Doc’s conclusion doesn’t surprise him, even after the fox’s wounds were treated.
He watched his grandmother carefully watch over the fox from her chair on the night stand. He hoped for her sake it was fast.
The fox survives the night, by some miracle. The morning he had a fever. A high fever. One that had him whimpering in pain and trapped in whatever dreamworld occupied his mind.
He pulled some of his stitched when he suddenly sat bolt upright, only to collapse right back down.
Doc returned to tend to him. Stitched the fox right back up, treated an infection, and told Big, the fox wouldn’t make it past Tuesday morning if he was lucky.
Grandmama hummed soft lullabies every time the young fox whimpered.
The fox is very lucky.
Kevin dropped the young fox in front of Big’s desk.
The fox kind of pathetically flops to the floor. Long wiry limbs and weakness from illness and injury do not mix well. He scrambles to his feet as quickly as he can, hurriedly glancing around the room. Patting at his shirt and doing his best to appear as small and weak as possible.
Which wasn’t too difficult for at the moment.
Big stared down at the fox. He had gotten better over the last few days. Bounds and bounds better. Granted the red fox still looked like death slightly warmed over. He was sitting up and talking with Grandmama and eating every damn piece of food anyone put in front of him.
“What’s your name?” Big asked after a moment
“Ugh…Nick…” He answered slowly.
Green eyes shifting to every polar bear in the room. It’s quiet clear he was more afraid of them than Big at the moment, which was fine. It would shift eventually when he realized the towing white bears listen to the tiny little shrew.
Big hummed down at the fox. The fox glanced at him for a moment, and the shrew jestured for him to continue.
“Wilde…”The fox, Nick continued, “Nicholas Wilde.”
“How old are you, Wilde?” Big asked with some curiosity. He knew the fox was young, still in his teens. Still to lengthy and awkward in the limbs to be anything older than 20.
“Fifteen,” Nick answered.
The number surprises Big a little. Just a little. Enough to wonder if the fox even had a family, or a place to go.
“What happened to you?” The shrew asked with a wave of his hand.
“I got attacked…” The fox answered like it was the obvious. “By some wolves. No real reason for it, they willingly handed me their money an hour prior.” Nick shifts slightly in his spot, as some of the bears mutter whispers of Lupi Grici and loopholes. “I really showed them…”
Big leaned back in his chair with an impressed snort.
“Uh…sir?” The fox spoke up, raising a paw slightly like he had a question in class. “I’m thankful for the care and hospitality you’re…” Nick pauses, shifting to look at the polar bears again before looking back at Mr. Big. “Family. But, if I may ask. Why am I here?”
“Because you’re a fighter, Mr. Wilde.” Big stated.
Wilde is ambitious and smart.
He reorganizes a failing business venture over night. Gets two bookies to confess to actually stealing form Big, and gets them to cut their “commissions.” He even sniffed out an under cover police officer before the bear even said a word to him.
Before Big new it the fox hand wiggled his way into his organization and family. He sat next to Grandmama every Sunday breakfast, and Fru Fru just adores him, milking every minute she spent with him. And became one of Koslov’s go to for making issues and problems disappear quietly.
The fox was just the right about of charms, wits, and need to please they he fits right into the folds.
He blended right in.
The fox is ambitious, young, and stupid.
Burned his bridges and ran when sold Big that butt rug.
The arctic shrew should hunt him down and ice him. Or something worse. But he doesn’t.
“Bambini, che rompono il tuo cuore.“ Grandmama tells him softly as he ranted to her.
The next time he saw Nicholas Wilde, the fox was with a rabbit, a police bunny rabbit.
A police rabbit that saved his daughter…so mute point.
Big acted mad, but he had long since forgiven the fox.
AN: Yes, this has been something I have been wanting to do forever. It’s been a headcanon that Mr. Big found a young Nick injured and it was his Grandmama who insisted they take the poor fox in. Grandmama nursed Nick back to help and he became part of Big’s organization.
All the Italian is from Google Translate, so yeah, sorry if it’s bad I know nothing.
so i was walking to the grocery store with my grandma n sisters cause my parents are working and like when we walked home there was this guy on his bike and another guy who is a bit taller. i know they’re both in like 6th grade and go to my school lmfao and suddenly the TALLER GUY THROWS HIM DOWN TO THE GROUND WITH HIS FUCKING BIKE AND HE STARTS TO THROW HIM AROUND AND THEN INTO A BUSH AND WE JUST SILENTLY WALK BESIDE AND LOOK LIKE THAT ONE MEME OF THAT CREEPY FOX SITTING ON A CHAIR YOU KNOW THE ONE. and the taller dude was like “DON’T SAY THAT SHIT EVER AGAIN. DO YOU FUCKING GET IT? YOU UNDERSTAND?” and the other dude was like “…y-yeah” and then like older dudes came through and we didn’t know what happened after but all i can say is that this is me with nct antis and anyone shit talking cherry bomb
THANK YOU! That makes so much more sense than the other ones! Yeah once I started writing more i realized I actually don’t read as many fics anymore. Other than your in progress JayTim of course, I can always make time for that one <3
If Neil had ever considered it, he wouldn’t have imagined his first time back on an Exy court to be walking into one repurposed for a formal dinner. It does nothing to lessen the intensity of his feelings, though. Not that he can really understand what these feelings are.
It’s yearning, maybe. That he’s so close and yet so far away from something he loves, a Vixen and not a Fox, and while he wouldn’t change it, standing in the midst of the team makes him think, just for a moment, that things are different.
That illusion gets broken in the instant Dan finds their assigned seats for the evening, orange against a sea of black, and says, “Motherfucker.” The Foxes close in around Kevin, leaving Neil and Katelyn on the outskirts as satellites attached by the delicate gravity of their dates. Neil wonders for a moment if they might collectively baulk, but Dan’s the first to raise her head and walk towards the Ravens.
“Oh,” Andrew says. “Maybe this will be interesting after all. Come on, Kevin.”
This story was inspired by Acid/C2ndy2c1d (http://c2ndy2c1d.tumblr.com) and her undying loyalty for one of my favorite cartoons, Courage the Cowardly Dog. And since she’s shown so many wonderful drawings to help sate my cravings, I thought I would write something in exchange.
This particular scenario is inspired by her awesome comic:
it’s beautiful, i think, how in your whole life you will never see every inch of this place. the earth is so massive and mysterious and ever-changing, it’s impossible to not step in the same place twice. you can retrace your old steps, or make new ones, but you will never be everywhere. even if you lived to be a thousand years old! there are buildings, and mailboxes, and trees, and fox dens, and rocking chairs, oceans and lakes and mountains and your very own home in the way of your toes. the earth herself keeps secrets from us, and i think that it’s beautiful.
“Attacks on native women are
attacks on native nations. As a committee, GRC-Ontario feels that the
police have not done enough to address the concerns of both cases and
want to draw attention to how the police, through non-investigation, are
complicit in these unsolved cases.
This is a peaceful event.
Families and friends of missing and murdered Aboriginal women are
outraged by the Toronto Police Services and the manner in which they
have handled these cases. This event is meant as a warning to Toronto
Police and investigators into the cases of missing Aboriginal women. We
call for accountability and demand further and thorough examination of
the “alleged” suicide of Cheyenne Fox and the mysterious death of Terra
Gardner.” - John Fox. Chair, the Grass Roots Committee-Ontario.
To say he had gotten lucky would had been an understatement. He really had no idea how he had managed to to not only drug the Overseer, but to drag him back to the commerce building.
The man sat slumped over in the chair Fox had managed to wrangle into a locked room, tied down with leather straps. He carefully laid out his tools and poisons on a crate and sat down on his haunches to wait for the man to wake up. It shouldn’t be much longer now, sleep darts only lasted so long.