#Fancy Boots

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Fancy Boots vs Wild: Masterlist

When his chronic migraines put an end to Riordan's hope of getting into the most coveted mission of the year, he decides to make the best of it and spends a few days at his friends' place to recover before embarking on a much less prestigious but perhaps no less important mission to Raqhar.

The scientists are nice enough, and their research is as boring as ever—at least until he finds himself injured and alone, stranded days from civilization, with no water, and with a rampaging magical storm at his back. There is no doubt the Order will come looking for him, but in the face of the endless steppe, he can't help but wonder if they will find him in time.

Riordan is back, and I'm gonna make him cry! :D

We have:

sign language

too much paperwork

infection (non-negotiable)

at least one thinly veiled dick joke

conversations in the middle of the night

finally a situation in which he loses his optimism

The cast:

Riordan

Damien

Merridy

Valadan

(yeah, all the descriptions are outdated, they have come a long way since the start)

Chapters:

Chapter 1 - Unfortunate Timing

Chapter 2 - Closed Eyes

Chapter 3 - Midnight Talk

Chapter 4 - Midnight Snack

Chapter 5 - Unbeaten Champion

Chapter 6 - Mission Preparations

Chapter 7 - Atmospheric Anomalies

Chapter 8 - Bad News

Chapter 9 - Far Horizon

Chapter 10 - Separate Ways

Chapter 11 - Fever Dream

Chapter 12 - First Aid

Chapter 13 - Bedside Vigil

Chapter 14 - Good Enough

Chapter 15 - Welcome Home

[ID: The top banner shows the feet of two people wearing boots, sitting next to each other in the grass. The title fancy boots is written next to them in a fancy looking, curly font in a bright green to yellow gradient. All other images are purely ornamental lines. End ID.]

[xxphoenixexlipsxx]

I want these so bad

[zondearts]

More More doves

[enverwhoretrash]

hands behind back? slut behaviour

[noramsblog]

More modern au 👨‍👨‍👦

[horse-plush-a-day]

Aurora 'Fancy Pals' Giddyup Boot

[viviraptor-art]

a nice sunset can make you do the weirdest things... ☀️

just something sappy for a certain someone's special day... and i'm a sucker for sunsets. is that enough alliteration? anyway, happy birthday, weevil! 🪲

[ask2ps]

this guy's got issues. unfortunately, i love him

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Chapter 2 - Closed Eyes

Fancy Boots

And he continues to have a wonderful time, because I decided to share my migraine with someone.

Prev | Masterlist | Next

Riordan trudged down the road from the citadel into town. His feet barely lifted off the ground, nausea roiled in his gut with every step, and he squinted at the path ahead through almost closed eyes. Even so, the light of the afternoon sun bore into his skull, and the sound of birds chirping on the trees lining the path made him feel like his brain was turning into soup.

The way would have been fine—probably—had he left an hour earlier. But he had not. Instead, he had filled out the necessary paperwork, made sure to submit a note of his absence in the proper places, and handed a pile of his clothes over for laundry, because the clothes he was wearing at the moment were the last clean ones. Freya didn’t seem like the kind of person who would admonish someone for a stained shirt, but he wanted to make a good impression.

The impression he was currently making was anything but good. A group of travelers cast him questioning looks as they walked past him. He ignored the whispers behind his back and focused on setting one foot in front of the other. In the haze of growing pain and declining ability to focus, the course of action had been so clear to him: visit the people he felt safest and most comfortable with. But as the town came into view and he stumbled along the streets leading him to his friends’ house, doubt began to settle in his heart.

How rude of him to bother them once more during one of his attacks. He could as well have waited it out in his rooms. Sometimes, he did, but the citadel was not a quiet place, and he craved silence as much as he craved some company—company he knew he would be barely able to stand. So his friends would once again be walking on tiptoes around him, half driven by pity, and half by guilt that still lingered no matter how often he assured them it hadn’t been their fault.

When he arrived at their house, he made his way through a garden in full bloom and sat on the small stone step in front of the back door. Torn between longing and guilt, he buried his face in his hands. Pressing against his eyeballs didn’t help against the pain, not really, but it did elicit the illusion that as long as his eyes were unable to move, it would at least not get worse.

Slowly, he leaned back until his shoulder hit the door and he relaxed against it. Shit. Rude or not, he wouldn’t make it all the way back to the citadel before this attack was over. He could think about a way to make it up to them afterwards, but for now, his focus would have to stay on not throwing up on their doorstep.

The door opened. Riordan flinched. He tried to catch himself, but his reflexes were too slow. When he began to topple backwards, his fall was stopped with a knee between his shoulder blades. 

“Riordan?”

A hand on his shoulders replaced the knee, holding him upright as the figure stepped in front of him. He pulled one hand down and cracked his right eye open, meeting a concerned gaze from storm-gray eyes.

“Hey,” he croaked.

“Shit.” Merridy straightened up without letting go of him, kicking the door fully open. “Can you get up?”

He lowered the other hand as well but kept his eye closed as he grabbed the edge of the step. If he didn’t want to spend the next twenty-four hours or more on the ground behind her house, he had no choice but to get up. That didn’t make it any more pleasant. Pain shot through his head, but he gritted his teeth, glad that between Merridy’s hands and the doorframe, he was unable to collapse.

She led him inside and pushed him in the direction of a chair, pulling it out with one foot so he could sit down. He did so gladly, laying his head on his crossed arms and breathing slowly to combat the sick feeling in his stomach. He shouldn’t have taken a second dose, knowing so well that it would make the nausea worse. It didn’t seem to help at all, but every time he decided to stop taking the medication, a small voice inside his head wondered if it would be even worse without. He was not keen on finding out.

Merridy returned with Damien in tow. He didn’t say anything, he only put his hand on Riordan’s shoulder and squeezed it. Riordan relaxed ever so slightly, the touch a welcome distraction that grounded him without being too much.

Cupboards and containers opened and closed. Water splashed. Footsteps approached. Merridy didn’t say anything, either, but she took his arm and nudged him to get up. There was little he wanted to do less, but he couldn’t stay at their kitchen table—or in their kitchen, as tempting as the thought of curling up under the bench was.

It was his luck that he knew the house reasonably well. Clinging to Merridy on one side and the handrail on the other, he climbed the stairs, eyes squeezed shut against the pain. Any kind of exertion only made it worse; getting up had been bad enough, but stairs were a special kind of nightmare.

At the top of the stairs, Merridy gave him a moment to catch his breath before she nudged him onwards into the living room. When his toes hit the sofa, he opened his eyes after all, to make sure he was dropping down at the right spot. He all but fell onto his stomach, wrapped his arm around a pillow, and buried his face in the fabric. 

“Mpf.”

Gods, he was not going to get up again anytime soon.

The muffled footsteps on the carpet moved around him. Merridy closed the curtains, the sound of heavy fabric sliding over the wooden rods a familiar one. She grabbed his feet and pulled off his boots, pushing his legs fully onto the sofa. Next, she slipped the strap of the small bag he had brought over his head and pulled it out from under him. A blanket was tucked in around him and pulled up to his shoulders.

Damien entered the room. Riordan felt it more than he heard it. The sound of ceramic on wood promised a cup of water waiting for him, should he need it, and something was placed at his side, spreading blissful warmth across his skin. A hot water bottle, but not a metal one like the one his family always used. Instead, it was made from soft leather, which made it less hot, but much more comfortable to lean against. 

In the face of so much care, his bad conscience reared its head again. He had to pull himself together. He wasn’t dying, his head just hurt, and here he was, having them tend to him like he was a toddler. Pushing himself to the side, he squinted through almost-closed eyes. Damien was crouching in front of him. That was good. He didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to have his own voice tumble around in his head. 

“I’m sorry,” he signed, small and jittery.

Damien took his hand and squeezed his fingers before moving them.

“No. Sleep.”

The signs weren’t quite right, but close enough for Riordan to understand. His eyes burned at the obvious attempt to be quiet for his sake, and he pressed his face into the pillow again, because if he started to cry now, it would hurt so much more.

Damien was still holding his hand, so it couldn’t be his fingers brushing through Riordan’s hair. They pushed a few curls behind his ear before rubbing his temple. A second hand joined, tracing the tense muscles along his neck and shoulders, exerting a bit of pressure, but not enough to cause him more pain.

Riordan was aware Merridy knew where it hurt because he had told both of them about his frustration after visiting multiple healers with no success. That didn’t make it any less wonderful that she remembered. He willed his body to relax and his heartbeat to slow down, focusing only on her touch. For a moment, the pain faded, and that was all it took for him to fall asleep.

[ID: The banner shows the feet of two people wearing boots, sitting next to each other in the grass. The title fancy boots is written next to them in a fancy looking, curly font in a bright green to yellow gradient. All other images are purely ornamental lines. End ID.]

[chickensauras]

Askeladd gets more outfit changes than Canute and I think thats funny.

Just looking at shirts to keep it simple- no boots, cloaks, mantles, ect. Canutes are more obvious, but this man's hauling a whole wardrobe around with him, huh?

Even if we count appearances as a child- askeladd still got more clothes smh

[randomcatgen]

misread howlpaw as howdypaw for some reason

maybe howlpaw is just the country hero we all need

[tev-the-random]

"Wow, Starlo only occupies 60% of your brain?" It's because this motherfucker exists, ok??? Come on, my brain can only blorbo so much at once. Starlo's gotta schedule his time like everybody else

[pizzazz-party]

Day eight. Golden hour.

[zimt-deathnote]

Oh wow now they're slow dancing to oldies playing in another room on a rooftop at the mafia wedding someone help, can they never stop dancing please

now I kinda want a jazz oldies playlist with animated snippets of those two looping in the background

----- My other socials Commission Info Let's drink some Ko-Fi! 🍵

[alltheboysandgirlsiloved]

There's one scene that I need to see in jwct S3 and that we will probably never get.

Seeing as Ben's girlfriend is real, I want Ben to actually confront the rest of the Nublar Five (Brooklynn is obviously excused because she's in her toxic evil yuri era), why they didn't believe him when he said that he had a girlfriend. And I want them to answer honestly. Because they didn't believe him, not in season 1 (maybe except from Yaz) and clearly on their way to Ben's gf, they were still veeeery dubious about this. Like... The impossibility of Ben's gf existence was the running thought during all conversations about Ben's girlfriend. More than that. In the trailer for season 3, we can also see Kenji and Yaz doubting this too! (And Yaz seemed supportive in S1 while Kenji didn't know back then).

So I want to know, because it was framed like this on purpose. For me as a viewer, it's obvious why they framed it like that (yes, it was suggestive, it's a classic "he's telling that she's real but she's not" and don't even try to argue with me about that). But I want to know why they reacted like that from the jwct universe's point of view.

Why they didn't believe their best friend?

I would really like to know, and I suspect that it will never be brought up ever. They will maybe apologise "hey, man, sorry for doubting you" but that will probably be all. But I truly would love to know the reason why seemingly all of them were convinced that she wasn't real.

Because Ben is... He's a catch really, let's be real? He's a bit of an odd-ball yes, but he's lovely, sweet, kind and caring, he's smart and passionate. He's Tall and from what we can tell well-built, and he is objectively handsome. There's a lot to love about Ben and Nublar Six knows that because they love him the most with all his quirks and oddities. So... Why. Was it so hard to believe? And don't tell me "well, he doesn't seem like the type to enter a long distance relationship". His long distance friendship with the Nublar speaks for itself. "Well, he doesn't seem like the type to be in a relationship". Honestly? Looking at Nublar, I'd sooner point at Darius as a potential "not the type for relationships" kind of guy (yes, yes, I haven't forgotten about the Brooklynn plotline, dw).

And anyway, if I was Ben. I'd like to know. What was so hard to believe.

We will never find out, I guess. I don't have high hopes for that.

[mushroominaforest]

Some consequences of giving the Sprunkis legs:

-Wenda now has the capability of drop-kicking poor orphan children

-Sky will finally fulfill his destiny of being an ankle-biter

-Raddy no longer has an excuse to skip leg day at the gym

-Black has gotten a lot better at looming menacingly

-OXWACK will start pacing and will not stop

-Oren’s amount of skateboarding injuries will drastically increase