#witw fic
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It takes an ecosystem...
A/N: Thank you @fan-of-my-fandoms for getting the boat moving on this with your enthusiasm for this idea, and also to all the anons who dropped by to throw yet more fuel on this au fire. This is a oneshot based on the “Portia gets adopted by all the Wild Wooders, several Riverbankers, and Mrs Otter Copes” au.
This particular oneshot is set from Badger’s POV, since it felt the easiest POV to get an overall impression of this mess, and is meant to give a gist of the vibe I had in mind.
x
In the wake of the retaking of Toad Hall, a strange sort of truce had settled between the Riverbank and the Wood.
This wasn’t because, one might expect, either side had offered any sort of apology (and there were plenty owed to go around) but rather that a peculiar double-booking of parenthood had occurred. Because while Portia’s (the eldest daughter of Mrs Otter) kidnapping had begun as an attempt to provoke the Riverbankers, what it had ended in was Portia gaining at least two new weasel uncles and one extremely strong-opinionated stoat aunt.
And honestly? Badger didn’t really see what all the fuss was about. (This was mostly because if he did see what the fuss was about, he’d be obligated to Help, and the retaking of Toad Hall had been enough excitement for one season.)
But regardless (and possibly courtesy of the new truce making it easier than ever for even the Riverbankers to appeal to his aid) animals kept turning up on his doorstep with the latest saga.
“She’s doing it again,” Mrs Otter grumbled, before Badger had even finished opening his front door. “Undermining my authority.”
Badger motioned for the Riverbanker to see herself in. “I take it the ‘she’ in question is the stoat you spoke of before?”
“Portia asked if she could go ice skating with friends and I said no, because there’s no guarantee it’ll be thick enough to stand on, and the last thing I want is to lose my daughter to the river after the year we’ve had,” Mrs Otter griped, making herself thoroughly at home in the way that one does after a too-long day. “And then the moment that I turn my back, that stoat sweeps in and takes her out onto the river anyway!”
The weather had been bitterly cold recently and, from what Badger had been hearing, most animals had ventured out onto the frozen river. There had even been races, with the only injury incurred that from a bad slip.
“Was there any trouble?” he asked. “On the river, I mean.”
Mrs Otter glowered. “She twisted her ankle.”
“That happens to pups her age.”
“It wouldn’t have happened at all, had she not been out when I said no!” Mrs Otter snapped.
“It mightn’t do her any harm to be out and about,” Badger told her gently. “To have some fun - or normality.”
She snorted. “Normality? What could be possibly normal about having the same Wild Wooders who kidnapped my daughter hanging around the Riverbank like it’s nothing?”
“Does Portia seem distressed by their presence?” Badger asked, already knowing the answer.
Mrs Otter glowered again. If the term ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ had been about, she would have swung the diagnosis like a baseball bat. As things were, however, all she was left with was a daughter who cussed more creatively than a sailor, and a gaggle of Wild Wooders who kept getting under her feet.
“She’s also picked up all sorts of foul language,” she added belatedly.
Badger grinned. “I seem to remember another otter who had to hastily clean up her language when her first pup came along.” He poured a mug of tea and handed it over to the grousing otter. “She’ll grow up. You did, after all.”
“I was never that bad.”
“You regularly threatened to run away to join the Wild Wooders whenever your mother made you eat your greens,” Badger reminded her, with only the barest edge of teasing. “You forget, I was around when you were Portia’s age.”
Mrs Otter didn’t have much to say to that.
x
“Yer an insecti- insecurei- insect-e-vore...”
Badger waited patiently for the weasel to find his way to the end of his sentence. It wasn’t unheard of for the Wild Wooders to seek out his advice, but in Badger’s experience, it tended to be for the more life-threatening situations - someone had caught pneumonia, or broken a rib, or eaten something they really, really shouldn’t have...
It generally wasn’t for whatever... this was.
“You eat worms, right?” the weasel finally settled on.
Badger observed the weasel. The animal wore a red-stained tie (made all the clearer for the unfortunate - or short-sighted - choice of a white fabric) and, as far as Badger could remember, was one of the Chief Weasel’s sidekicks. The name Lesser rang a bell.
“I do indeed eat worms,” Badger conceded. “When the mood takes me.”
“Do you know how to make worm broth?”
“I have been known to make it, on occasion.”
“I need some.”
“I do not,” Badger added, “have any on the go at this exact second.”
“That’s okay, I’ll wait right here.”
Badger gave the weasel another look. He believed the animal would just wait, too. He was probably going to regret asking this, but: “What do you need worm broth for? I wasn’t under the impression it was a favourite among your kind.”
The weasel squirmed. “It’s for the otter pup.”
“The otter pup.”
“She went out in the snow the other day and - uh, well...”
“Twisted an ankle?” Badger offered.
“Something like that. And, see, one of the other pups said that their mum always makes them worm broth when one of them’s sick, only we tried to make what we thought’d be worm broth, and it came out...” Lesser declined to describe it. “So, you see, we thought you’d know how to make it-”
“I do,” Badger said, “and I’m not going to.”
“But-”
“If you’re needing an expert in worm broth, I suggest you appeal to Mole’s nature,” he continued. “He usually has some on the go and, if not, you’ll do a lot better convincing him than me.”
x
It was not two days later that his door was subjected to yet another round of knocking. And he would have told his would-be guest to stop abusing his hospitality except - well - it was Ratty.
He ushered in the water rat, relieved to discover that Ratty’s previous visits hadn’t been mere outliers, but perhaps indicators of regular occurrence.
Regular occurrence, he quickly discovered, as long as there was chaos on the Riverbank.
“Are you quite sure we can’t do anything about the Wild Wooders, Badger?”
Badger pushed a steaming mug into Ratty’s paws. If Mrs Otter’s visit was anything to go by, then this was not going to be a quick turnaround. “Have they done anything worth doing anything about?”
“It’s not about what they’ve done, but what they’re going to do.”
“And what is that?”
Ratty mumbled something into his drink.
“Yes?”
“They’re dragging Mole into... whatever they’re up to,” Ratty muttered.
“I doubt Mole can be dragged into anything he doesn’t want to be,” Badger replied, entirely honestly. “What nefarious schemes are they enrolling Mole into now?”
“One turned up on our doorstep, asking for worm broth.”
“Ah yes, worm broth. The most heinous of meals.”
Ratty’s whiskers twitched self-consciously. “That’s not the principle of the thing. The principle of the thing is-” He faltered, and that flicker of righteous outrage faded. “The thing is that the first time Mole crossed paths with the Wild Wooders, they scared him half to death.”
“Animals change, Ratty.”
“These lot don’t.”
“Then circumstances do.”
Badger watched the son of his late friend fret, and marvelled at how, even though father and son differed in such ways (he never remembered the previous Rat getting quite so caught up in his own mind), he could still read Ratty the same way he had his father. Ratty’s paw ran along the back of his neck, coming to a stop at that hand-me-down hat, just as his father had done in his rare moments of discomfort.
“Ratty,” Badger said, “you’re not to blame for what happened that day.”
“I never said I was,” Ratty replied, just a little too curtly to be wholly at ease. “But...” and here, Badger could hear the truth cracking, “it’s true, isn’t it? If I hadn’t let him go off into the Wood alone...”
“Then things would be different,” Badger said simply. “As is the case with most choices. Now, Mole’s a grown animal; if he wants to help the Wild Wooders prepare a little bit of comfort food for a sick otter pup, then I think there’s nothing you can really do to stop him.”
x
By the time the next door knock arrived, Badger wasn’t even surprised.
He was, however, surprised to see the duo in question.
“I see you’re back on your feet, Portia,” he rumbled.
The otter pup shuffled from foot-to-foot, but kept her paw steadily over her nose, a bloodied handkerchief pressed into place. “Fell outta tree,” she mumbled around the makeshift compress.
“Are ya gonna let us in, or are ya gonna leave her to bleed all over your porch?” the Chief Weasel demanded.
Badger raised an eyebrow but gestured for them to enter. Portia bustled herself in with no reserves, but Badger didn’t miss the way the Chief gave him a wary look-over before following after the pup. The unease didn’t let up, even while Badger was seeing to Portia’s nose.
“So, fell out of a tree, did you?” Badger prompted. “Last I checked, otters weren’t an arboreal species.”
“A what-species?” Portia asked.
“Tree-dwelling.”
“Oh.” Portia tried to wipe the blood clear, and Badger firmly - but not harshly - slapped her paw away before she could smear it across her fur. “That’s probably why I fell out then.”
Reassured she hadn’t broken her nose, only given it a shock, he passed her towel to ease the blood. “So what were you doing up one?”
“Fetching a kite. One of the weasel pups’ ones got stuck.”
Badger glanced to the Chief in a ‘and you left the otter pup with the recently-twisted ankle to get it back’ kind of way.
“She said she could do it just fine!” the Chief snapped. “Ain’t my fault if she didn’t tell me she couldn’t climb!”
“S’true,” Portia mumbled.
“Well, there’s not much more to be done,” Badger announced. “And what have we learned from this?”
“That I need to get better at climbing trees,” Portia replied instantly.
Badger decided that was the best he was going to get. He let the odd duo out, but not before he saw the Chief Weasel pat the otter on the head in a decidedly paternal manner.
x
Badger quickly resigned himself that it was going to be at least a month of odd duos.
“My front door hasn’t seen this much action... well, ever,” he announced to the mole and weasel on his doorstep. Both looked suspiciously sheepish, and Lesser was fiddling with the arm of his glasses.
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen an otter pup?” Mole asked.
“I suppose the otter pup in question would be Portia,” Badger made the educated guess of.
“You have seen her then?”
“No.” Badger let the seconds pass before eventually caving to curiosity. “Why-”
“No reason!” Lesser announced, and dragged the mole off.
Badger shut the door and headed back inside. With the way this season was going, he didn’t doubt that he’d discover what was going on before long.
x
“Hide and seek in the Wild Wood!” Mrs Otter bemoaned. “Who thinks that’s a wise idea for an otter pup?”
“Probably a Wild Wooder,” Badger replied. He’d gone to the trouble of making his visitor a cup of tea, and his hospitality had been duly rewarded by watching it go cold in her paws. It was, however, making a good prop for Mrs Otter to wave about whenever she needed Emphasis. “And they did find her, I presume?”
“Up a tree. She stayed up it for a good hour, just to make sure she won the game.”
Badger made a mental note that apparently Portia had made good on her promise to get better at climbing trees. “Safe?”
“Unharmed, if that’s what you mean,” Mrs Otter muttered.
“Then I really don’t see what has caused your distress.”
“It’s not safe for a Riverbanker!”
“Then it’s just as well she’s also under the care of Wild Wooders,” Badger replied tiredly. “Anyway, from what I heard of it, Mole was also keeping an eye on her.”
Mrs Otter grumbled again, in such a way that made Badger doubt that her eldest was going to be under the care of a certain mole any time soon.
x
At this point, Badger thought, he probably should just consider giving out keys to his front door and save himself the hassle of having to answer it. He opened his door to see - briefly - two soaked animals, before both dashed inside.
“HiMrBadgerHaveyoumetmyAuntieCheryl,” Portia blurted as she scooted inside.
‘AuntieCheryl’ turned out to be a stoat and also the Chief Weasel’s other second-in-command. She made a cursory attempt at a glower as she passed the badger, but was hampered somewhat by her chattering teeth.
“Pleasure as always, Portia,” Badger returned. He raised his gaze briefly to the thick rain beyond his door, before shutting it firmly out, and following after his impromptu guests. Portia was quick in claiming the chair closest to the fire but not, it had to be said, for herself; rather she had bundled the stoat into it and was already introducing a blanket to the mix.
“It’s rather wet for a walk through the woods, wouldn’t you say?” Badger hazarded.
“T’wasn’t raining when we started,” the stoat grumbled. It sounded like she was aiming for a growl, but had again been hindered by the shivers.
“It’s really raining buckets out there,” Portia said, and Badger understood this to be the closest she was going to give for an apology for barging in. “Auntie Cheryl would have caught her death of cold if we’d tried to make it back to the Wooders - or the Riverbank.”
“I’m fine,” the stoat muttered. This would have been a lot more believable had she not been retreating steadily further into the blanket.
“You’re not fine, you’re shivering,” Portia said.
“Little bit of rain never did anyone any harm-”
“Auntie Cheryl,” Portia said, and - to Badger’s amusement - she had her paws on her hips in the spitting image of her mother; “you are going to sit there and concentrate on not catching a cold while I get you something to warm you up.” Portia leant over to Badger and whispered, “Where’s the kitchen?”
“That door.”
“Thank you.”
With the same busyness that Badger recognised from Mrs Otter, Portia bustled into the kitchen, leaving him alone with ‘Auntie Cheryl’.
‘Auntie Cheryl’ eyed the badger warily.
“I’ll be out from under your nose before you know it,” she deadpanned. “Until then, I’ll try not to drip too much on the furniture.”
Badger sighed and pulled up a chair from the dining room. “I wouldn’t worry too much about the furniture,” he said. “It’s seen its fair share of damp guests.”
“Mr Badger!” Portia hollered from the kitchen. “Where do you keep your pots?”
“Second cupboard to the right!” Badger called back.
He didn’t entirely miss the way the stoat’s form stilled at his booming voice.
“So,” he said. “You’re the Auntie Cheryl I’ve been hearing all about.”
The stoat bared her teeth. “I suppose that worrywort of a mother has been talking your ear off about me,”
“Oh, I’ve heard about you from several quarters,” Badger replied, honestly enough. “But yes, the elder otter certainly does have her qualms about you.”
“She has her qualms about everything,” Cheryl snarled back.
“She has her reasons. After all, she did believe she’d lost her daughter only last winter.”
“But she never went looking proper for her, did she? She, what, scurried around the edge of the Wood for an afternoon, and then proclaimed her daughter a lost cause?” The stoat’s lip curled. “No Wild Wooder would ever give up on a pup so easily.”
No, Badger believed they wouldn’t. And he could read the anger in the stoat - this animal, who had somehow gained the mantel of aunt, and now simmered in the ire that her newfound niece would ever be abandoned.
“Things aren’t quite so simple as that.”
“It is!” the stoat snapped. “You either care enough to fight, or you don’t. She didn’t.”
He regarded the stoat. She was younger than Mrs Otter, but carried the years she did wear with a sharp sort of pride. Time had not yet dulled her claws nor tired her senses, and both were buffered by a quickness to clash.
“You’ve never lost a fight that truly mattered, have you?” he asked.
“Toad Hall--”
He held up a paw. “Toad Hall was a place, a thing,” he said. “You held on to it because you wanted it, not because it was precious. I’m talking about fighting for someone, and losing.”
Cheryl didn’t answer, but her face twisted as she searched - fruitlessly - for a reply to prove him wrong.
“It’s not a failing,” he said gently. “Merely an observation.”
“I don’t get what this has to do with anything.”
“Mrs Otter has,” he said.
“Then she should’ve fought harder.”
“We don’t always have that option.”
“Yes, we do.”
“Then what would you have done in the wake of a hunt?” he asked. “Defend your mate or protect your young?” He waited merely long enough for the stoat to realise she had no easy answer. “Like I said,” he continued, “fighting harder isn’t always an option.”
“Auntie Cheryl, Auntie Cheryl, I made you tea!” Portia came running in, wafting in the faint aroma of burnt... something from the kitchen. “Well, I tried, but Mr Badger’s stove is weird, and the kettle boiled over, and I might’ve knocked a bit of onion into the water from one of the garlands - sorry, Mr Badger--”
“No problem.”
“--but it looks like the right sort of colour, and you like onion in your food normally, so it’s probably okay–”
‘Auntie Cheryl’ dutifully sipped her onioned tea and didn’t reignite the conversation for the rest of her visit.
x
A/N: Aaaaaand I’m gonna stop there because this is getting long. I was intending this to have more of a narrative focusing on the Mrs O & Cheryl dynamic, but it mostly became “animals keep turning on Badger’s doorstep thanks to Portia”. I was aiming for both Mrs O and Cheryl to have valid points (Mrs O can be over-protective, while Cheryl isn’t always the most careful) and for them to be dealing with the side of Portia installed from the other guardian (Cheryl being mothered, and Mrs O dealing with recklessness) and I hope I got some of that across.
I might do more of this? This was fun, but I can’t really add much more to this post without it becoming A Lot to read. (3K. Oof. If you got this far, I’m impressed!)
If you did read and enjoy this, please leave a comment or nice tags so I can bask in their light and be energised for more writing!
#lesser knows fancy words exist he just struggles to know how to pronounce them#the wind in the willows#cat writes#witw fic#enemies to co-guardians#there is in theory uhhh a lot going on under the hood of several characters#from lesser and mole befriending each other#to chief having general nerves around badger#(mostly from remembering visiting badger in his youth only to fetch his help when someone was sick)#to ratty's usual anxiety#to mrs otter still picking herself up after the death of her mate#and the situation thereof#which pushed her from the wildcard she was in her youth#to being much more worried and overprotective novv
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Robert "Bob" Floyd Series
Hi! Here is a list of the series I'm writing for Robert “Bob” Floyd! Each series has multiple chapters and you can find their brief summaries underneath the titles! If you would like to read more you can head on over to my Masterlist! If you enjoy my writing, consider buying me a ko-fi!
Masterlist
Outrun the Devil (Incomplete, Ongoing)
Bob Floyd had always been a good kid. So how did he manage to let his childhood friends rope him into living a life of crime? A member of the famous outlaw group, the Dagger posse, Bob longs for a future where he can settle down and earn a respectable living. When he meets the new barmaid at the local tavern, that future doesn't seem so farfetched, but will her past catch up to her? (Western!AU)
Til the Summer Comes Again (Incomplete, On Hiatus until Winter 2024)
Bob was a winter spirit who loved what he did. He loved making individual snowflakes. He loved the way the snow sparkled in the winter sun. He loved the laughter his creations brought to people around the world. What he didn't expect, was to fall in love with a human girl from a small town. He has until the summer comes again for her to reciprocate his feelings if he wants to remain on earth, but will the shadows that haunt her get in the way of happily ever after? (JackFrost!AU)
Whisper in the Wind (Coming Soon)
It wasn't easy being a witch. Your final test to becoming a fully recognized one was to move away to a town of your own. So, with your bags packed and your faithful familiar by your side, you fly into the town of North Island. But, what will you do when you find out that the people in town are distrusting of witches at best? And what will you do when the only boy willing to talk to you seems terrified of you? (Kiki's Delivery Service!AU)
#robert bob floyd imagine#robert floyd x reader#robert bob floyd x reader#robert floyd#robert bob floyd#robert bob floyd fanfiction#robert bob floyd x you#bob floyd#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd fic#bob floyd x you#bob floyd imagine#top gun bob#bob floyd fanfiction#robert floyd x you#robert floyd fic#robert floyd imagine#masterlist#otd#witw#ttsca#isotw#outrun the devil#whisper in the wind#til the summer comes again#in spite of the way
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before I sleeps, I'mma update on the witw fic: the start is building slower than I intended but we're getting some nice setting and background in so that's good
#tired#fic writing#witw#witw 2017#the wind in the willows musical#the wind in the willows#wind in the willows musical#wind in the willows#its a musical based fic sorry#i need to find the book again its somewhere in a box
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Okay so I typically like this idea that
Chief Weasel, Benji, 's dad was the first Chief Weasel
And he was the first Chief Weasel because back before the Wild Wooders lived in the Wild Wood, he was a (high ranking) police officer and the pride of the Foxes Weasels and Stoats because it was really hard to be anything like that when you were one of those animals because the others didn't trust you
So all the Foxes, Weasels, and Stoats were used to calling him Chief and they looked up to him
Then one day he got framed and lost his job, but the animals that supported him never stopped supporting him
So he eventually rallied up the Foxes and Weasels and stoats and took them to the wild wood, and since he was the one to lead that and the one they all looked up to, he was put in charge, and since everyone already called him Chief, he took Chief Weasel as his title
So when he dies, his son (Benji, the Chief that we know) steps up and does his best to fill the hole his father left behind, taking on the name Chief Weasel being a part of that
So basically what I'm trying trying to say is I like the idea of Chief being Chief because his dad was Chief and his dad was Chief because he was a cop
BUT
I kind of want to write something about some sort of election to pick the leader of the wild wooders, and Benji runs with the slogan "Do it for the vine" for lolz and wins
Idk I think it would be fun
#fic idea#Chief Weasel#witw#The Wind in The Willows#The Wild Wood#The Wild Wooders#Chief Weasel's dad#I want to write#A bit of backstory for a fic im writing
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I’m having a Weird Week™️, anyone wanna send me asks?
#about whatever really#witw or animaniacs or one of my many other interests#feel free to request fic prompts although i might not get to them right away#ask me top five whatever#or just tell me something fun idk
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Okay so apparently I don't write
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One of my favorite rina moments is the spiny hug from season one! I’d love if we got another one of those next season but sealed with a kiss!! What are some of your ou favorite rina moments other than that epic kiss?
This question makes me soooo 😭😭 but yes, ditto! (it's my prof pic so how could it not be??)
I could cheap out and say all of them because that's basically true, but I think I will narrow it to my top five (outside of the spin-hug and kiss [+the speech] since they're already mentioned). These are in no particular order btw :')
There is a scene in WITW during Ashlyn singing that you see Gina look back at Ricky and roll her eyes and smile. It is so small but it shows how much they get each other. It's very much a "he's a dork, but he's my dork so I'll go along with it" and that dynamic is so cute vs the angst (don't get me wrong though I do love angst)
The color wars hug sends me into oblivion. (I'll attach a gif at the end of Ricky's face, but just how proud and happy he is of her altered my brain chemistry, for sure. Like look at his face and tell me it doesn't melt your heart!!!)
Let's be real here!! WDYKAL is obviously a top contender!!
The homecoming car scene
When Gina walks into Camp Prom <333
(can you tell season 3 is my favorite? lol close contenders were: both times Gina showed up at ricky's door, the scene outside the barn on the bench- it was the main inspo for my large fic I wrote for rina week!, Ricky seeing gina after she comes back from moving, and the paper snatch scene)
#rina#ricky x gina#ricky bowen#gina porter#hsmtmts#high school musical the musical the series#asks#send me asks#now do you see why I struggled to answer this anon lol#anon
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A Christmas Miracle by BUFFY_ANGEL2000
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It’s Christmas and feelings are left unspoken.
Mistletoe Mansion by Becjane
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Time Travel-ish. Written for AO’s Christmas Ficathon.
Cangel Appreciation Week Prompt: Family - by nikitadreams
Dick Clark with Extra Cheese by Kelly22
Rating: NC-17
Summary: “Something changed in Cordelia’s face. She quit frowning into her hands and looked up at him. He physically felt the moment when her eyes went all warm. She tilted her head to one side. “You think I’m beautiful?” she asked quietly.
A Perfect Christmas? Not at Angel Investigations by Lexis
Rating: G
Summary: Cordelia and Angel think about their Christmas Day.
The Case Of The Missing Santas by Little Heaven
Rating: G
Summary: Cordelia’s first Christmas is LA isn’t turning out the way it was supposed to.
Tis Definitely the Season by FICBITCH82
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A little ficlet of what could happen on Christmas Day for the gang in the Golden Year of S3.
A Little Tradition Between Friends by LaLa247
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Holiday fluff with some light smut, C/A, Post WiTW.
Silent Night by Tonya
Rating: N/A
A Dozen Delights by Gabriella
Rating: PG-13
Summary: On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…
By The Chimney With Care
Rating: PG
Summary: Angel apologizes to Cordelia. Set after The Trial.
Christmas Shopping by Argent
Rating: PG for one naughty word (Wes should be ashamed of himself)
Summary: Challenge fill:
*Include Connor
*Include a little "dabbling", i.e. nookie on the part of A/C
*we need some W/F/G friction
*A visit from a member(s) of the Scoobies...your choice
*The issue of Cordelia as mother
First and Last by Lexis
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A family Christmas for Angel Investigations.
If the Fates Allow by samluvsharrison
Rating: PG-13
Summary: He was a man with a future. She was a woman nearing her end. Pretty packages weren’t enough. For Christmas he wanted the one thing she couldn’t give him. Time.
I’ve Got a Feeling This Year’s For Me and You by samluvsharrison
Rating: PG
Summary: One evil ornament. Between Provider and Waiting in the Wings. No Connor.
Three Years of Advent by Alex Dollard
Summary: Three years. Three Christmases.
The Toy by DamnSkippy
Rating: NC-17
Summary: It’s Christmas at the Hyperion and Cordy gives Angel an unexpected gift.
As the Clock Strikes by FanFreak611
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Summary: Vignettes of an Angel Investigations New Year's Eve
Where the Love Light Gleams by FanFreak611
Rating: General Audiences
Summary: It's Connor's first Christmas Eve and Cordelia can't remember the last time she's felt this peaceful.
Angel’s Oasis Holiday Fic Archive
#cangel#fanfiction#fanfiction rec list#angel the series#ats#media: fanfiction#if your fic is on this list and you want it removed for any reason pls msg us and we'll take care of it asap#and as always a huge thank you to the cangel discord for making this list possible and everyone's help reccing fics
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Ok. Vague fic idea spawned by that gif of FJ pulling the sword on a (at least) half naked Andrassy:
(Cut for spoilers):
Form: 3+3, kind of like Chimes.
We have our three main characters, FJ, Sisi, and Andrassy as well as Tod skulking around. Tod shows up taking the forms of other people at times, so this is kind of confusing.
FJ's Dream - Tod shows up as Sisi at first but then shifts to Maria Anna (FJ's dead younger sister) when FJ asks that Tod not be Sisi. FJ is very lonely and wants to not have to worry about political knives in the back from family members. He wishes Maria Anna had lived because he's always just a tad worried about his brothers, especially because Max is his mother's favorite, and even his wife seems against him politically. (Yes, this should seem _very_ like how I write Rudolf - I think of them as _very_ similar characters even if Rudolf would never admit it).
Sisi's Dream - Sisi dreams of being free and alone, just riding with the wind in her hair etc. Tod shows up as Heine, as Andrassy, and as FJ in succession, and is mainly just miffed that she keeps rejecting him. Will reflect WITW type sentiment. Sisi isn't afraid to give Tod the middle finger.
Andrassy's Dream - Andrassy is somewhere between in lust and in love with Sisi, and he has dreams reflecting that, featuring Tod as Sisi at first, but later Tod as FJ and well (this is where the moment with FJ pulling the sword on Andrassy gets to come in).
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Andrassy's Reality - watching Sisi from afar, admiring the good she does for Hungary. Sees? Hallucinates? Tod!Sisi standing beside FJ as his perfect consort at least once. Does his best for his country, but he's only one count.
Sisi's Reality - A mix between the freedom she does manage to acquire and a golden cage. Very little time in Vienna, lots of very formal diplomatic feeling stuff while conversing with FJ via letter. Tod shows up to help word some of those letters. Gets angry at FJ at one point for calling out Maria Anna's name in his sleep.
FJ's Reality - Cold hard politics, and the fact that his marriage must be above reproach. Allows Sisi to travel after Rudolf is born. Very much a realist approach and dealing with duty. Still talking to Tod-as-Maria Anna, mostly to do with how alone he is and how even in his marriage it is a formal diplomatic situation and how he hates that and wants there to be _a_ situation where he can just be Franz and not be the Emperor and how this is the one thing he begrudges Sisi above all else.
#my fic ideas#I'm not sure how to tag pairings here#it's like a messed-up quadrilateral#not sure what this fic's working name will be yet#cause the fj-pulls-a-sword-on-andrassy fic is too long#I might switch the chapter order around later#and there will probably be future posts doing some more fleshing out#Rudolf really got the worst of both worlds#Sisi's habit of catching Tod's attention#and Fj's habit of not giving Tod the middle finger
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I posted 51 times in 2022
That's 51 more posts than 2021!
33 posts created (65%)
18 posts reblogged (35%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@/hotelorangejuice
@/demonicxrocker
@/cartoongifts
@/jaymepro102
I tagged 27 of my posts in 2022
Only 47% of my posts had no tags
#ii suitcase - 18 posts
#ii - 17 posts
#inanimate insanity - 17 posts
#ii baseball - 10 posts
#artists on tumblr - 8 posts
#suitysue moment - 7 posts
#wind in the willows - 4 posts
#wind in the willows (2017) - 4 posts
#ii knife - 4 posts
#witw - 4 posts
Longest Tag: 66 characters
#^/j obvi but i did have. bad attachments w her so im working on it
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
screenshots edits !
23 notes - Posted May 30, 2022
#4
something else me drew! me drew awhile ago but look pretty!!
25 notes - Posted May 19, 2022
#3
a drawing for a fic!!! :D
34 notes - Posted May 18, 2022
#2
— when something is broken, and you try to fix it, trying to repair it… anyway you can.
37 notes - Posted June 21, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
dtiys for my insta
51 notes - Posted June 5, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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is witw going to be an actual fic?
hm... yes and no? like for the actual plot ive vauged abt? most likely not (at least rn). BUT as of right now im planning on just doing multiple witw oneshots about different things i've talked about? like i would write a proper fic for witw but also im terrible at sticking with fics, and i would HATE to have a half-finished witw fic floating around yk? so basically for now im sticking to oneshots cuz i can actually finish those lol.
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Okay but imagine wild wooder! Portia calling Chief dad by accident.
Oops, this sparked a ficlet! This I banged out on the keyboard in an hour while still in bed, so it may be a little rough around the edges, but inspiration hit so I ran with it! This is kinda me playing around with the whole wild wooder portia au, getting a feeling for the setting and emotions. Please enjoy!
*
The otter hunt which took Mr Otter happened when Portia was only a very small pup. She remembers the tears, the potent grief that submerged her home, and the animals who visited with hushed voices and sad eyes – but she remembers precious little of her father.
She doesn't tell her mum this.
Oh, there are fragments. A lullaby hummed in easygoing tenor notes, a full-bellied laugh, being chased through the kitchen while her mum scolded in a teasingly affectionate tone which has faded since. There are fragments, but nothing in which she can point and go that. That is who my dad was.
And because she is young, because she is tenacious and stubborn in the way pups are, she wears her fatherless state with a sort of fierce pride. She sees the way her dad's death has left her mum nervous, scared in a way she hadn't been before (she does not see that the fear is born of protection for her remaining family) and Portia instead grows bold.
It is this boldness which leads her into the Wild Wood and into the clutches of its inhabitants.
They are going to eat her, they tell her.
Her mum will save her, she warns them in return, but her voice cracks and she fears her mother too scared to ever venture into the Wild Wood, even for a missing daughter.
Let her try, the Wild Wooders retort.
And they almost do seem to let her mum try. She hears whispers of Riverbankers in the Woods, of even the intimidating Mr Badger venturing from his sett, but then the stories change – instead she hears tales of Toad and his driving machines, of arrests and courts and, finally, of 20 years jail time.
But still no rescue.
So when the Wild Wooders relocate to Toad Hall, it is almost a side thought when they bring her along. And when Portia's place on the menu crops up, the Chief Weasel announces that she's too skinny for the eating and there is almost something like... relief among his companions.
"Good night, sleep well," each evening she's told. "We'll most likely eat you tomorrow."
And still no rescue.
"They probably thought you already ate me," she informs them grumpily when one of the weasels – Lesser, did the others call him? – forgets himself and asks. "Given up and accepted the worst."
Lesser's muzzle wrinkles. "Then why aren't they out for revenge?"
Portia can only shrug at that. She does not think of her siblings, or of her mother who has suffered keenly that grief before but still has mouths to feed and pups to protect. She can only think of herself, of the otter pup whose mother has left her for dead.
The conversation seems to whisper around the Wild Wooders in the following days. "The Riverbankers don't care if one of their own are taken," come the unkind rumours. (They do care, Portia wants to protest, but revenge is not their way.) "They've abandoned an otter pup, all because their precious Toad got himself in a spot of bother." (They didn't, she silently thinks, its all just bad timing.) "They're never going to save her." (Not true, not true, not true...)
Eventually the rumours reach the Chief Weasel's ears, whose ire, in return, reaches everyone's ears.
"They're what?" he snaps. "Do they think we're running a frigging daycare? A pupsitting club for the recently-kidnapped? Are you telling me they ain't even gonna mount one measly little rescue party?"
The rambling anger goes on for some time before the Chief Weasel approaches Portia.
"What," he asks, in tones that make it sound like it's her fault they kidnapped her, "are we gonna do with you?"
"You could always just eat me," she mutters sulkily.
He glowers at her, but doesn't get the cauldrons cooking. "Nah, nah," he says, "I think the Riverbankers deserve some karma. We're not gonna eat ya."
"You're not?"
"We're not?" ask several nearby Wooders.
"Nah. We're gonna recruit you."
*
She thinks about making a bid for escape several times in the following weeks. It would be remiss not to. And at first the Wooders seem aware of this too, always keeping an eye on her when the possibilities of freedom loomed near. But the longer time goes on, the more that petty little ball of anger cements inside her.
Her mother never did come for her.
The Riverbankers accepted her death without question.
She was never going to be rescued.
The Chief Weasel and his two second-in-commands take priority in what she might very generously call her 'training.' It's more akin to settling her in, teaching her the lessons that Wild Wooder pups learn in their infancy.
Instead of teaching her to fear, they teach her the dangers of the Wood and how it might be traversed safely. She learns how to spot the mossy dips which warn of the open mine shafts below; she learns how to navigate even through the foggiest nights; she learns which berries will heal and which will harm.
She also learns of her keepers.
She learns that Lesser is easily distracted, impulsive and playful. He is the easiest swayed by her ideas, curious in a way she recognises, and fun in a reckless way which her mother has been too scared to be.
She learns of Cheryl, the stoat who has risen to the ranks of Chief's other second-in-command. The stoat is the least enamoured by her sudden pupsitting duties, and has little patience for Portia's tomfoolery. Her verdict is that if Portia can't keep up, then she deserves to fall behind, and she seems begrudgingly impressed when Portia doesn't. She takes no shit, and there is a fearlessness to her which Portia can't help but admire.
And she learns of the Chief.
Despite his loud mouth and snappish nature, he is not as fearless as Cheryl, but what he lacks he makes up for with his fierce protectiveness of his own. Portia sees it only once – in a close call with a hound – but once is enough. This, she realises, is why he's the chief.
He is nothing like the fragmented memory of her father. He does not hum lullabies, and his laughter is more of a cackle than a guffaw, and he leaves the play chases of the pups to Lesser, but there is more than one way to be a father.
Portia just didn't realise it until she accidentally lets the name slip.
(She doesn't think he notices. At least, he doesn't berate her or even comment on it. But she doesn't think she entirely imagines the grin which he hastily tucks away in the corner of his mouth.)
#wild wooder portia#grief tw#death tw#everyonecwho has asked for a ficlet recebtly#theyre also in my notes#this one just spontaneously happened#the wind in the willows#cat writes#witw fic#in hindsight this was influenced probably by Hook lmao#... wait this also has tones of that league of legends aninated series#oops
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*digs through my angst Spotify playlist* It's Alright?
(Not me answering this late, so so sorry about that—
mmmm definitely a hurt/comfort fic! I’m getting vibes of Duke trying to console Hannah after Lex is arrested in WitW, and promising things will be alright and he’ll keep checking on her family? hdhsjsl
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before I go into my writing hidey hole to write witw fic I'd just like to remind everyone of the bows of the 2017 witw show
and how Toad was going to do a speech before Chief just took over like "nah, my song now"
and notice Badger being the first to join in too
and notice how the field mice were having an absolute blast, the time of their lives
oh and also Mr Hedgehog dabbing in the background
and Toad's confusion at this like it hasn't already been completely planned
and the conductor wanting to get payed to stop and turn the page over
✨iconic✨
#witw#witw 2017#the wind in the willows musical#the wind in the willows#wind in the willows musical#wind in the willows#the absolute sheer and feral joy i get at watching those bows#incredible
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Give me 30 minutes, my editing skills are shit, but let me see what I can do
I could do it myself, I'm literally a certified photoshop-person
I'm just very busy working on Mole x Rat fanfiction that I honestly don't even want to write anymore
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For the prompts: 29 "We haven't spoken in so long dear, the year has gone by in a blur" for Rat with either Toad or Badger maybe? :)
Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31527923
Reblogs are welcome.
....
Ratty, Mole and Toad stood on Badger's front porch, waiting for Badger to answer after Ratty rang the doorbell. Badger had promised to host a get together for their little friend group, and Toad for one was eager to share his latest, greatest hobby with his friend. Ratty just wanted to see a friendly face – and for someone else to be the target of Toad's enthusiasm for a change. Mole had just been dragged along for the ride by Ratty.
They heard Badger muttering and shuffling towards the door from the other side, and Ratty dusted down his jacket, hoping to look at least somewhat presentable. Next to him, Toad was bouncing on the balls of his feet, excitement personified.
Badger opened the door to them, and though his old face didn't change, his eyes crinkled and his gaze brightened when he saw them.
“Ah, hello. Do come in, do come in. It's so good to see you chaps. There's a pot of tea waiting for you inside.”
Toad's grin broadened. “Ohh! Tea! I do hope there's biscuits too!”
Ratty followed Toad inside with a sigh, just hoping his friend wouldn't cause too much trouble this time.
. . .
Toad swept into Badger's home, casting off his coat and throwing it to Ratty to fumble and catch, oblivious to the glares of his friend.
“Oh, Badger, how are you? We haven't spoken in so long, dear friend. The year has gone by in a blur!”
Toad made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs while Ratty stalked into the room, having dealt with Toad's coat.
“Maybe for youit has,” Ratty grumbled. “You weren't the one who had to keep up with your ever changing hobbies,” he sat down on one of the vacant armchairs, arms crossed. “Or clean up the mess,” he muttered.
Toad snorted, “Oh, pish posh. There wasn't much mess to clean up. And besides, no-one got hurt.”
“No, you just caused hundreds of pounds worth of collateral damage,” Rat pointed out. Not that Toad was listening to him at this point. Too busy thinking of his daring escapades in everything from jet planes to motor cars.
“And a fun time was had by all,” Toad finished. Ratty just groaned and covered his face with his hand. Badger chuckled, glad he wasn't the one managing Toad this year.
“I need a drink,” Ratty announced, and Toad immediately leapt onto the bandwagon. Afraid he'd miss out on something exciting if he refrained.
“Why, excellent idea Ratty! Drinks for everyone!”
Mole cheered.
Badger nodded and rose, ambling slowly back to the kitchen. “I'll go get the whiskey.”
. . .
The evening progressed quite merrily, and the little quartet were happily enjoying the bottle of whiskey between them. Chattering away until the bottle was empty, and Badger had to go out and buy another. Leaving Mole, Toad and Ratty to entertain themselves for a while. Unfortunately however, Toad was already well into his cups, and getting tipsier by the moment. Which was bad news for Rat and Mole.
“I say- I say, old chaps,” Toad drawled, hiccuping loudly.” Did I ever tell you about the time I drove a rally car? I tell you it was one of the most exciting things ever.”
“Yes, you have. Many times.” Mole answered. “It was only yesterday you drove it.”
“You drove it here today,” Ratty added.
Toad cleared his throat. “Well- well, yes, but... I don't think you understand just how exciting it is. How thrilling to drive at such high speeds.”
“I think we know, Toad,” Ratty said. But Toad wouldn't believe a word of it.
“No, you can't. Not until you've experi- hic! Experienc- hic! Tried it yourself.”
Toad swayed in his seat a little and then stood, lifting his glass up. Proudly announcing that he would show them how it felt to be in a rally car doing that kind of tippity-top-speed.
Mole and Ratty paled, each keenly aware of what it'd be like to be in a car with Toad behind the wheel. Especially after the last time. Wild, reckless, unconcerned-about-safety-and-speed-limits Toad.
“Erm, that won't be necessary, Toad. I'm sure we can imagine just fine.” Mole said as gently as he could. Hoping to pacify Toad and dissuade him from the idea they all had to let him drive them. To stop him getting behind the wheel. Again.
“Oh, poppycock,” Toad waved dismissively. “Pish posh. Imagination just won't cut it this time my friend. Here, let me show you the car. You can sit inside and check out all the fantastical gadgets and gizmos!”
Mole nearly choked. “It's quite alright Toad. I'd rather just sit in here and enjoy my drink, thankyou.”
“But-” Toad said, turning to Ratty. “What about you Ratty? Surely you want to take a spin in my new beloved car with me?”
Ratty blinked, put on the spot. “Uhhhh...”
“Excellent!” Toad cheered. Taking that for a 'yes'. Grabbing Ratty's arm and attempting to pull him outside and lifting the car keys out of his pocket. Steering Ratty towards the front door.
“I'll drive!”
Ratty snapped out of his daze of reliving past traumatic car rides with Toad and snatched the keys from his green hand. “No you won't!”
Toad stopped, looking at Ratty pleadingly. “But... but Ratty...”
“But nothing, Toad!” Ratty said firmly. “You're too drunk to drive. I cannot in good conscience let you get behind the wheel.”
“Well then let me do it in bad conscience!” Toad countered, trying to pull the keys out of Rat's grip.
“No means no, Toad.”
Toad glanced at Mole. “Moley old pal, help me out here!”
Toad pleaded with Mole, but Mole just shook his head. “Sorry, Toad. I'm with Ratty on this one. We'd hate for you to get yourself killed in an accident.”
Toad glared at them both. “Traitors! Fine then. I guess I'll just have to give you guys the slip!”
At that, Toad snatched the keys out of Ratty's grip when his guard was down, and fled the house. Tearing across the grass towards his flash car. Laughing and whooping at his victory.
“Wooohooo! Time to drive! Come along, Ratty and Moley! I'll give you both the ride of your lives!”
Both Mole and Ratty gaped at him in horror for a few moments, until they snapped out of it and ran after him. But by then, Toad was already trying to drunkenly clamber into the driver's seat, going “Broom, broooom! BEEP BEEP!”
They ran after him, yelling at him. “Toad NO!”
“Toad YES!”
They thankfully got to him before he managed to plug in his seatbelt and start the car, and fought to haul him bodily out of the car by force. Getting him out of the vehicle before he could do some serious damage. Though Toad wailed and protested as they pulled him away from his beloved car – with no small amount of effort.
“Noooo! My baby!” Toad wept as they lugged him away.
“We said NO, Toad. No drink driving!”
“But I wanna!”
“Well tough noodles!” Mole huffed.
“Noooooo!”
They'd almost gotten the struggling Toad back to the house when Badger appeared. He blinked once, twice, and then shook his head at the commotion.
“I say, what on Earth is going on here?” he demanded.
Immediately the squabbling trio froze, staring at Badger.
“Uhhh...” Ratty began, but Badger held up a paw to silence him.
“Actually, I don't care. Just get back inside before you all embarrass yourselves even more than you have already.”
Badger huffed a sigh and walked right past them back into his home. Mole, Toad and Ratty all looked at each other for a moment, and then with unspoken agreement they all got up, dusted themselves off, and followed Badger inside. Each thoroughly chastised for their childish and undignified behaviour.
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