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xtruss · 1 year ago

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The people of California’s gold rush towns have brought new life to the area, inspite of wildfires and the pandemic. Photograph By Tanveer Badal

How California Dreaming Is Bringing New Life To Gold Rush Towns In The Sierra Nevada

In the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, Tuolumne County offers an introduction to the natural wonders of California, alongside a wealth of quirky Gold Rush towns and Hollywood film sets primed for a comeback.

— By Zoey Goto | Photographs By Tanveer Badal | August 31, 2023

At an age when most schoolkids are still learning to tie their shoelaces, Nathaniel Prebalick — AKA Gold Plate Nate — was teaching budding treasure hunters how to pan for gold. As a third-generation prospector, he was raised amid the sparkling streams of California’s Gold Country, in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, getting to know its watery veins as well as the life lines of his own hands.

While this may sound like a sepia-tinged snapshot from another century, it’s anything but — as I discover when I meet Nate on a grassy riverbank one spring morning. He’s a thoroughly modern gold digger — a smiling twentysomething who uploads his gilded finds to Instagram — and he has a ready explanation for why Tuolumne County in eastern California is, once again, in the grip of a gold rush.

“We’ve had historic rains recently and all the gushing water has brought gold down from the hillside,” Nate says in a honeyed, Californian drawl, zipping his wetsuit up to his neck and wading into the cascading stream with a miner’s shovel in his hand. Nearby, his ponytailed father, who goes by the name of Nugget Nick, swirls a murky pan of sediment, locked into the eternal quest for a eureka moment.

Scenes like this were first witnessed in California 175 years ago, after the heady discovery of shimmering flakes attracted a stampede of 300,000 fortune-seekers who ended up reshaping the landscape of the American West. Fast forward to the present day and, once again, it seems there’s gold in them there hills. The focus for today’s prospectors are the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains, around two-and-a-half hours east of San Francisco. A combination of recent environmental factors, including Californian wildfires loosening the soil, coupled with pounding rains, has stirred up a bounty of precious metal in Tuolumne.

The locals are at the heart of bringing a new lease of life to these gold rush towns. Photograph By Tanveer Badal

Nate can be found most days sieving the brooks around the town of Jamestown, guiding groups of hobbyists and curious tourists as part of his family’s California Gold Panning business. In a state that’s long dangled the tantalising carrot of easy wealth — as dirt-poor miners who have struck it rich and the overnight tech billionaires of Silicon Valley will attest — Nate still holds onto a glimmer of hope each time he lays his shiny silver sluice box on the pebbled riverbed.

“I once found a nugget the size of my palm,” he enthuses, pushing ringlets of hair back from his damp forehead. He explains that only a fraction of the region’s gold was unearthed during the California Gold Rush of the mid-19th century, so there’s plenty of treasure still to be found — if you don’t mind a bit of hard physical graft. “Sure, most people aren’t getting rich doing this kind of work. But out here in nature, I’m guaranteed a lifetime of fun and a million dollars’ worth of experiences,” he says with an easy laugh and a gold-tinted glint in his eye.

Bidding Nate and his family farewell, I move on to Chinese Camp, a once-thriving stagecoach stop that was home to 5,000 Chinese miners during the Gold Rush and became a key hub for early Asian settlers in the US. Today, a handful of resilient residents remain, alongside a surreal ostentation of squawking peacocks, which parade like royalty through the near-deserted streets.

The tinkling bell above the door having announced my entry into the dinky Chinese Camp Store and Tavern, I browse shelves crammed with fizzy pop, noodles and gemstones. It’s a rare relic of a time when incense burnt outside Buddhist temples and children filed into the pagoda-roofed schoolhouse. Once the Gold Rush ended, China Camp emptied out, its buildings slowly surrendering to the creeping vines, leaving the town looking like the set of a Tim Burton gothic masterpiece.

Moving with the times: St Charles Saloon in Columbia State Historic Park was originally a provisions store. Photograph By Tanveer Badal

It’s a very different vibe at my next stop, further down the snaking Route 49 highway: Columbia State Historic Park, a quirky town founded in 1850. This perfectly preserved slice of Western whimsy is home to the largest collection of Gold Rush-era brick buildings in the state. Lining the main drag are higgledy-piggledy wooden boardwalks, vintage saloon bars with swinging doors that creak in the breeze, and old-timey store fronts, the workers inside dressed in period costume like a posse of extras from a John Wayne flick.

Tuolumne is a region that’s had more scene changes than the Wild West films that were once shot here, including mid-century cult classics such as The Legend of the Lone Ranger and High Noon. Originally, this rugged scenery was home to the Me-Wuk Indians, who were pushed off their land when the gold frenzy hit. After the rush had subsided, many once-prosperous towns dwindled into rickety old ghost towns, only to be given a second act when Hollywood came calling, transforming them into sets for rootin’, tootin’ cowboy films. It’s still up for debate what the grand finale for the frontier towns that stud California’s landscape will be, but in Columbia, at least, the answer seems to swing towards a fabulously kitschy re-enactment village.

Not all traces of California’s past have been forgotten. The Yosemite Pines RV resort has nods to history everywhere, such as these Conestoga wagons. Photograph By Tanveer Badal

Following intoxicating wafts of melting caramel, I arrive at the door of Nelson’s Columbia Candy Kitchen. There to greet me is fourth-generation owner Janice Nelson, dressed in a floor-skimming floral prairie dress and standing behind glass cases stacked high with a wobble of fruit jellies, like a maternal Willy Wonka. She tells me her 100-year-old family business provides something that resonates on a far deeper level with her customers than the colourful gobstoppers and aromatic clove drops being carefully weighed out on ornate scales. “This shop is our little gold mine. But what we’re really selling is a nostalgia for the Old West,” she says, leading me past a table where women with tattooed arms are delicately hand-dipping chocolates, through to a kitchen where the walls are lined with antique copper pans. “It’s the romantic sense of freedom, discovery and adventure that attracts people to this area,” she says, as a group of children stand on tiptoes outside, eyes wide and noses pressed up against the shop window as they watch a display of hot peanut butter brittle being slathered onto a marble slab to cool.

That evening, I drive 30 miles south east to Yosemite Pines RV Resort, in the midst of the type of wilderness that’s best described as ‘wide screen’. Under an inky sky, I bed down for the night in a covered Conestoga wagon, the kind that once brought trails of hopefuls to the mother lode, so the legend goes. But appearances can be deceptive, I discover, as I ease open the door of my canvas-covered glamping wagon to find all the mod cons of a smart hotel, from a double bed and air conditioning to a coffee machine. Drifting off to sleep, I realise that Tuolumne is the kind of place where the past and present constantly overlap, creating an endlessly entertaining guessing game of ‘spot the Wild West fake’.

Getting Wild Out West

Not all windfalls in Tuolumne involve precious metal, I find out the next morning when I meet adventure guide Bryant Burnette at the entrance of Hetch Hetchy Valley, tucked into the northwest corner of Yosemite National Park. When Yosemite became a national park in 1890, Bryant tells me, it kick-started a tourism boom and luxury cabin resorts such as nearby Evergreen Lodge sprang up around the fringes of the park to accommodate holidaymakers. Nowadays, compared with other Yosemite entry points, Hetch Hetchy offers a lesser-trodden route into the fifth-most-visited national park in the country.

We head on into Yosemite, hiking through shape-shifting scenery — fields of alpine wildflowers one moment, the next, granite mountains so high I try not to fall over as I crane my neck to take them in.

Like all epic landscapes, Yosemite holds multiple meanings, which are often at odds with each other, Bryant says as we skirt our way around the edges of Hetch Hetchy Reservoir, a sheet of ruler-flat water framed by soaring peaks. America’s third national park, Yosemite helped create a blueprint for the conservation and preservation of the natural world, but it was also at the centre of a fierce environmental battle. In the 1920s, a controversial dam was built at Hetch Hetchy to provide drinking water for the residents of San Francisco, flooding the valley floor. There’s talk of draining the reservoir and reclaiming the original landscape, but, Bryant explains, the mass of water does at least mean there’s a greater diversity in the flora and fauna here than elsewhere in Yosemite.

As we pick our way along rugged boulder trails, Bryant tells me that he first came to this neck of the woods with a backpack and 100 bucks in his pocket, determined to conquer the 2,308 hair-raising metres of sheer rock face that make El Capitan Yosemite’s superstar mountain. Having reached its summit, Bryant found something about this mythical landscape that he just couldn’t shake off, so he stayed on and set up Echo Adventures Cooperative with his wife, leading outdoorsy expeditions that include rafting, snowshoeing and campouts.

The reservoir at Yosemite was created in 1923. Photograph By Tanveer Badal

“I didn’t want to spend my life dragging my knuckles into an office. I wanted to wake up each morning and feel excited about going to work,” he reflects. We turn a corner and, like the outrageous flirt that it is, Yosemite wows us with the sight of a rainbow trapped inside a spectacular, sky-high, misty waterfall. It’s a view that makes it easy to understand why Bryant chose waterfalls in the park over watercooler moments in the office.

Determined to see for myself why Yosemite’s rocks had cast their lifelong spell on Bryant, the following morning it’s a bleary-eyed start as I buckle up for a sunrise trip with Yosemite Flights. My guide for the morning is Jason Johanson, a friendly commercial pilot who recently co-founded his own outfit offering aerial tours to visitors wanting a bird’s eye view of this climber’s playground. Such is his love for aviation, Jason lives with his young family in a converted hanger at the side of the airstrip, he tells me over a crackling microphone as we whizz along the runway in his light aircraft. “There’s my home. It makes for an easy walk to work,” he says, laughing, tapping a finger against the side window as we launch into the air.

Minutes later, we’re rising above smudgy clouds to look down upon a chequered patchwork of backcountry. From this giddy vantage point, it’s easier to make sense of the ripple effect that the Gold Rush had on Tuolumne’s landscape. There are the timber mills, frontier towns and railway tracks that once serviced the mining industry, and, in contrast, Yosemite National Park, designated a protected wilderness to halt the damage being inflicted on the valley’s ecosystem by the new settlers.

We glide on over the park, circling majestic El Capitan and neighbouring Half Dome like a hawk. Gazing down at the climbers currently hiking along the valley floor, looking like a trail of ants from above, it’s hard to believe that in a couple of hours they’ll be scrambling up these snow-capped cathedrals of stone. We complete a final glory lap before heading back to Pine Mountain Lake Airport, where, still bathed in the orange glow of sunrise, Jason contentedly makes the 20-step commute back to his home.

Boom to Bust and Back Again

As I arrive in the quaint cowboy town of Sonora, west of the park, the copper gleam of an urban brewery offers up the first clue of a renaissance. But it’s the beatnik coffeehouses filled with artfully exposed brick walls and freelancers tapping away on laptops that seal the deal. As I stroll the main street of the 150-year-old settlement, originally founded by Mexican miners and overlooked by a redwood church, I’m finally getting a glimpse into the future of Tuolumne’s Gold Rush towns — and it’s looking decidedly hipster.

The latest chapter in Sonora’s bust-to-boom script occurred during the pandemic, when many of the decades-old businesses that had occupied its retro buildings folded overnight. In their place, a fresh crop of indie boutiques, florists, juice bars and poke-bowl joints set up shop, as a new generation of Tuolumne residents took a punt on their start-up dreams.

In the heart of downtown Sonora, I make a pit stop at The Armory, a courtyard bar and restaurant festooned with strings of lights. Locals mill around the recycled-barrel tables waiting for the weekly country line dancing class to kick off. Dashing past on her way to do the school run, co-owner Rebecca Barrows stops at my table for a chat. She opened the place with her husband in 2022. To cater for the younger demographic of the area, there’s a cocktail bar hidden within a bourbon-barrel doorframe, and salsa and DJ nights.

The views on a scenic light aircraft ride with Yosemite Flights include Yosemite’s Half Dome. Photograph By Tanveer Badal

“Post-Covid, there’s been a real turnover of businesses around here,” Rebecca says. “It’s the green shoots of a new scene.” Running out, she calls over her shoulder, “Be sure to try the rodeo smash burger before you leave town.” I take her advice, tucking into a hot mess of beef patties, jalapeños and pepper jack cheese — a dish that’s earned The Armory a place on the Tuolumne County Craft Burger Trail, a network of 10 eateries that take the humble burger to new heights.

Thoroughly satisfied, I leave Sonora and head back to San Francisco through the swaggering scenery of Tuolumne, a landscape that I’d seen a thousand times before on lazy Sunday afternoons spent watching Westerns on the small screen at home. I take a peek inside the shadowy doorway of California’s oldest saloon bar, the Iron Door Saloon in Groveland, where cowboys in Stetsons are propping up the bar, looking like they haven’t budged an inch since the glory days. It suddenly all feels strangely familiar — the trail of riders on horseback, the cinematic frontiers, the flutter of star-spangled banners outside honky-tonks. Long before I arrived on Californian soil, pop culture had already graciously made the intros.

A couple of hours later, I’m back in the urban swell of San Francisco and Tuolumne’s Gold Rush towns are but a dusty memory. But I know where to find them for next time — out there where the highway ends, in a place where young gold diggers still splash in rivers and tourists drift off to sleep in reimagined cowboy wagons, that’s where you’ll find the new Old West.

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banmitbandit · 3 months ago

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Pots 'N' Picks Week 2024: Day 6: Bartender AU

ADVENTURERS WANTED FOR DUNGEON ESCORT Seeking adventurers to escort me in the dungeon to find missing half-foot Puckpatti Chils, last seen two weeks ago. Previous party recalls "losing track of her" on the fourth floor. Willing to pay to go deeper if it comes to that. Contracts negotiable. Payment upfront, with reward upon Puckpatti's rescue. Picklock already found. Ask for Chilchuck Tims at the bar of The Mimic's Claw if interested.

Technically another roleswap, but an AU I cooked up in the chilshi server where instead of becoming an adventurer, Chilchuck started the half-foot union in a tavern after the succubus incident, keeping a very close eye on half-foot welfare, and his wife was the one who became a picklock doing dungeoneering.

His children eventually follow in her footsteps despite his insistence that he doesn't want his girls taking such a dangerous profession. Whilst half-foots are treated much better than they used to be, people still slip through the cracks. He'd promised himself he'd never step foot in the dungeon again, but when his youngest Puckpatti goes missing... He'd do pretty much anything to get her back.

Senshi ends up accidentally adopting Izutsumi at a younger age (he fed her and she didn't leave, and that was fine by him), and the pair of them live on the surface, taking frequent trips down into the dungeon doing odd jobs for people both above and below ground. Senshi isn't a big fan of dwarf alcohol, so he likes drinking at the bar of The Mimic's Claw every so often.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #chilchuck tims #senshi of izganda #meijack chils #izutsumi #chilshi #pots n picks #potsnpicksweek2024 #chilchuck absolutely ripped her party a new one for not bringing her back btw.#hell hath no fury like a half-foot father worried sick about his youngest daughter.#he hates going down into the dungeon and he hasnt in years but. its puck. he has to find her. shes his baby girl...

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wren-kitchens · 3 months ago

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can't remember if I ever posted this to tumblr so have a silly little snippet from an au me and stiff came up with!

the premise is that every hermit is some kind of hybrid, but is worried about sharing this fact because they all think they're the only hybrid on hermitcraft. empires on the other hand immediately clocks them all as hybrids and assumes the fact they’re hiding it is some kind of lore

jimmy can’t help grinning as scar tries to get him to ‘accept himself’ for the fifth time this afternoon. man, these hermitcraft people are fantastic at sticking to the bit—jimmy knows he would have cracked up way before now if it was him.

“you gotta accept it as part of you!” scar is practically begging him as jimmy leads him to the tavern. “you’ll never get anywhere if you’re left hating something like that about you, tim!”

jimmy turns to look at him. he keeps throwing his hat in the air and catching it again—that’s allay behaviour if he’s ever seen it.

“scar,” jimmy says, dropping the ‘oh no i’m so tormented’ act for a moment. “you do know i’m not actually a toy, don’t you?”

scar blinks at him. “you- no, you are. aren’t you?”

“no!” jimmy laughs at the look on scar’s face. “i’m a cow, scar, have you seen me?”

“wait- but what’s all that about then!” scar exclaims, gesturing in the direction of stratos. “with the ‘little toy man’ and- and the revealing potion!”

“oh that’s just for fun!” jimmy grins. “none of it’s true: the ‘revealing potion’ just makes you short, and joel knows i’m not a toy.”

“gosh, you empires people are odd.” scar says. “why do something that’s not true?”

“well, first of all, it’s funny.” jimmy says. “and second of all, it makes for a cool story! you being human isn’t real, but it-“

“not human?” scar interrupts, looking nervous all of a sudden. “i don’t- I have no clue what you mean! ‘not human’,” scar laughs to himself, unconvincingly offhand. “ah, you never fail to amuse me, jimmy.”

jimmy blinks at him. “is that- do you guys-“

and something clicks. the shiftiness of tango, the wide-eyed gazes at their hybrid features that all the hermitcraftians had enacted, almost like-

almost like they didn’t know they were all hybrids.

jimmy suppresses a laugh. wow, okay. now that’s a story.

“scar, I know you’re an allay.” jimmy says. “or a vex? somewhere in between?”

“somewhere in between.” scar clarifies. “how- how did you know?”

“I hate to tell you, but you’re not very subtle about it.” jimmy grins. oh gosh, he’s going to have to tell everyone when he has the time. no wonder all the hermits looked so surprised to see them.

“not subt- how am I not subtle?” scar asks. “I do everything humans do!”

“you’re counting your fellow hermits as humans?” jimmy asks.

“well of course.” scar says. ah, that’s where he’s gone wrong, jimmy thinks. “sure, we’re all a little weird over there, but i’m the only hybrid. and no one has noticed yet, so i think i’m doing quite well actually.”

“must be ‘cause i’m used to hybrids then.” jimmy settles on, because whilst he doesn’t want to reveal the secrets of.. pretty much everyone except the guy in the doom outfit, he also really wants to see how this plays out.

“oh yes.” scar agrees quickly. “must be that.”

“now, I do believe I was showing you the saloon!” jimmy says, putting on his silly accent for the last word, and scar seems to register that he’s back in character.

“yeah, the saloon!” scar exclaims, ever the enthusiast.

as scar starts to ramble about how he doesn’t think you can be classified as a cowboy unless you have your own saloon (which jimmy agrees with wholeheartedly), jimmy smiles to himself as he anticipates the reactions of his server-mates when he breaks the news.

.. and also he might be smiling at the way scar’s face lights up as he speaks. but that’s a matter for another time.

#gtws #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar #gtws hermitcraft #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #man these guys have so many tags #fuck doxxers btw #wren writes #hermitfic #kinda? it's the crossover does that count #empires x hermitcraft #could be shipping if you want idk

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corkinavoid · 2 months ago

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DPxDC Sky Pirates

Some of you may have noticed that I love to re-imagine concepts and adapt them into different settings. So, today, I present you with yet another dpxdc fantasy AU, and this time, it's Pirates.

Only just 'pirates' seemed not exciting enough, so I have Sky Pirates.

Amity Port, a place on the outskirts of Gotham - a floating continent under the rule of Waynes. A town on the edge of the world, with only the Vast Skies beyond its piers. Flying ships moored in the docks, sails of all the colors you can imagine, taverns, inns, and shops run by all the people you know: Old Kinght Fright, Jinnee Desiree, and Lady Lunch, to name some.

Royal Guard Valerie Gray, who left Amity nearly a decade ago, is now back, and she brought guests with her. Two Princes of Gotham, straight from Bristol: Tim and Jason. Only they are not here for a simple visit.

A Sky Curse over both of them, with feathers piercing their skin from inside, causes them to seek the help of a skies witch since none of the mages, witches, or warlocks all throughout Gotham could help them. But sailing the Vast Skies with no clear destination is a task for no battleship.

They need something else.

A crew of pirates who never back down from adventure when offered a fair price. A ship that had sailed far beyond any trade would go. A captain that their Royal Guard can trust, even if begrudgingly.

And, maybe, a new friend that also has feathers under his sleeves.

Is this an advertising post for my new fic? Yes, yes, it is. 'Free as the Wind' by corkinavoid, here is a link, enjoy.

What I did was I took the concept of 'Danny has Wings' and the idea of space pirates from 'Treasure Planet', mixed it with some 'Pirates of the Caribbean' aesthetic, threw in some magic, added a generous amount of fantastic skyscape worlds and a dash of adventures that end in love, and winged it.

Also, have some art I shamelessly found on Pinterest to set the mood:

P.S. The fic has soundtrack links included

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dpxdc #tim drake #jason todd #valerie gray #vlad masters #fantasy au #cork writes fantasy #ao3 fic #sky pirates #pirates #amity park as a port town #there are a lot of characters mentioned #like #really a lot for only two chapters #its romance and adventure #cork writes

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myneckmybackmyanxietyattack · 1 year ago

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Soooooo I'm back on my Mysterious Man bs

a normal office worker in Chicago

#hello from the magic tavern #magic tavern #mysterious man #hftmt #mysterious man hftmt #i love tim sniffen so much #its not even funny

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mxauthor · 7 months ago

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Too Good for Me

Summary: Chilchuck loves his wife, but he thinks she's too good for him.

Word Count: 1,944

Warnings: a little angsty, maybe ooc Chilchuck, half-foot reader, one curse word, fluff near the end

Within the half-foot community, everyone knows that Chilchuck Tims and Y/n L/n were meant to be. Both of their parents having lived close to each other, the once small children grew up together.

Playing tag as small children, turned into shy hand holding and blushy kisses. Chilchuck adored Y/n with all his heart, nothing could stop him from coming home to her, not even the dark dungeons he found himself in. While Y/n believed that Chilchuck was her whole world. Having loved him since they were kids, Y/n only wished for her Chil to come home safe and sound to her.

Their love continued to bloom throughout the years, having married young and created a family, the Tims couldn’t be happier.

Chilchuck loves his wife. He’d do anything for her, he’d do anything to keep her happy and smiling. Shining like the sun, even if it meant she’d shine with someone other than him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n could tell that something was bothering her husband.

It didn’t take much, especially since he was so easy to read. She watched as his brows furrowed and his nose wrinkled. His lips were slightly downturned as well, completing his ‘mr grump face’.

With careful footsteps, Y/n approached the chair her husband was currently occupying. Once behind, she slid her arms around his shoulders and kissed the side of his head, “Good evening, Mr. Grump, would you happen to know if my husband was available.” Having felt the slump of his shoulders and hearing his defeated, albeit amused, sigh Y/n knew she temporarily soothed the twister of thoughts running through his mind.

“I’ll ring him in for you Mrs. Y/n.” the auburn haired man jokes, before turning his gaze to catch the loving eyes of his wife. “Hello sweetheart.”

She pecked his lips lovingly, “Hi lovie. Is something the matter? It’s been a while since the ‘grumpy face’ has come out.” Y/n voiced. A wife can’t help but be concerned for her husband, especially since he works dangerous jobs just for them.

“Everythings fine, just thinking about a request of some sort.” Chilchuck smiled tiredly. His mind has been reeling about what one of his party members asked. While departing from the dungeon, Moslie, had caught the small huff Chilchuck exclaimed about seeing his wife after so long.

It didn’t take much, to cause Chilchuck to rant and rave about his wife back home. The group laughed and poked at the pink faced half-foot. Making him swear he’ll bring her to the tavern to meet them. But after sobering up, Chilchuck didn’t want to follow through anymore. His work and his life were two separate things.

He wanted to keep them separate for as long as he could, but knowing that the moment he mentions it to Y/n, her radiant smile will kill all the courage to tell her nevermind and not have them meet at all.

“Anything I can shoulder with you.” Her sweet voice pierced through Chilchuck’s thoughts. Her nose nudged his cheek, her arms still loose around his neck. The phrase ‘with him’ caused his heart to stutter. Knowing that she’d carry his problems with him, knowing that she’d support him with anything. Knowing that she’d be at his side forever, made the decision harder and harder.

Chilchuck would be with her and carry everything with her until their skeletons turned to dust, which is why he wants to keep her all to himself.

Her smile alone makes the sun burn with envy. Anyone would be lucky to have her.

And he wanted to stay lucky.

But knowing that the smallest meeting with his party would cause even the stars to shine brighter with jealousy with how much she’d beam. Chilchuck had no other option but to lift his half of the world into her awaiting hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chilchuck sat silently at the table within the tavern. He watched as Y/n floated around, speaking excitedly with all members of the party. Even chatting with the wives that they’ve brought along. Her excitement almost made everything worth it.

Almost.

The auburn haired half-foot watched as his Y/n blushed red at something said to her. She then became bashful and her smile turned into something heart stopping. She looked away, before catching the eye of Chilchuck, then looking back again. A mutter of a response before Y/n excused herself for the conversation to talk with another member, luckily a woman this time.

Chilchuck watched with insecure eyes, feeling like his greatest nightmare was happening before him and all he could do was watch. He hated being a part of a scene. Having everyone stare at him, waiting for his next comeback or action. And within the full tavern, that was surely the outcome.

So he drank instead.

Not enough to get him hammered and stumbling but enough to where his wife would always choose him. Enough to quiet the insecurities just for a moment. Enough to trick himself into believing that he was enough for Y/n, that she would never leave. That she’d want to spend the rest of her life with him.

And it worked, until it didn’t. They always came back and it was getting harder to fight them.

So he let them win and kept drinking the night away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The walk back to their little home seemed much longer than necessary. Almost like all the paths taken have stretched themselves while two were away. Chilchuck walked the path silent. His head hung low, the alcohol continued to flow through his system.

The half-foot refused to look towards his wife, not wanting her to see his defeated expression. Chilchuck knew since childhood that Y/n was too good for him. That his grumpy and sour nature wasn’t worth her sticking around. He knew that he dulled her and just tonight, his thoughts were confirmed.

She practically glowed all throughout the night. Her bubbly nature was addicting enough, Chilchuck almost didn’t need a drop of alcohol for the night. But her glow, directed at all his party members, made him feel sick. Seeing her bounce and laugh joyously, seeing her blush and dance with them just told Chilchuck that she’d be happier with someone other than him.

How could she love a grump like him? How can she stay and wait for him for days on end? How could she simply be happy?

Chilchuck grumbled to himself, reaching the door of their home. The man made quick work with the lock and entered, leaving it open for his wife that was tailing right behind him.

Y/n walked through and saw as her husband grabbed one of the wine bottles stored in the cabinets, taking a large drink and sitting himself at the table. She watched as he grumbled with himself. As if he was in an argument of some kind.

His body language saying to leave him alone. That he wasn’t in the mood for any human interaction.

But she took a tentative step towards him anyway. She moved her body to lean against him anyway. She wrapped her arm around his head to keep him against her anyway. She wrapped her other arm over his shoulder anyway.

She held him anyway.

And she continued to hold him as he cried.

Chilchuck gripped onto Y/n’s arm, making it so she can’t let go. So she can’t leave. He wanted to push her off, tell her that he wasn’t good enough, break her heart so she could leave and be happy with someone else. Someone who’d make her shine and laugh and dance. Someone who can talk about his feelings. Someone who’d take her on dates everyday. Someone who’d give her flowers and tell her they love her everyday.

Someone who isn’t him.

“You deserve better than me, Y/n.” his voice came out meek. Like it was painful for him to even say the words in the first place. Y/n looked at Chilchuck with bewilderment, not believing he’d even say such a thing. All her love for him was ready to pour out, but the tightening grip on her arm silenced them.

“I’m a grumpy old man, who’s gone all the time. An old man that’s bitter and emotionless. I don’t even tell you I love you. I don’t bring you gifts or flowers. I never talk about work or anything else and you just met my co-workers after 2 years of me working with them.” Chilchuck ranted. His tears continued to fall, voice weavering between words. His hold still tight, no matter how much he believed he wasn’t enough for her, Chilchuck wanted her to stay right there, needed her to stay with him. “I’m a lousy husband and barely a good enough father. You don’t need someone like me holding you down.”

Y/n dipped her head down, lay her forehead against Chilchuck’s crown. She breathed deeply before speaking, “I no longer feel pretty. I’ve outgrown my gowns, and I feel fat. Our daughters prefer their father over me. I think I’m a terrible mother, and they don’t love me as much as they love you. I say home, waiting for my husband because he’s the only thing that makes me smile anymore. But even then, I don’t think I’m pretty enough for him.” She rose her head and turned his until they were meeting eye to eye. Y/n took in his slightly red nose, the tears within his eyes and the water path the previous ones made. Her gaze softened, tears of her own welling up in her eyes, her hand coming up to cup his face, wiping them away.

“But seeing the way he looked at me tonight. Like I’ve given him life, was enough to show me that he loves me as much as I love him.” She leaned down and rested their heads together. Chilchuck closed his eyes, taking in her warmth. “And god I love him so. His beautiful eyes and sweet smile. His warm embrace and powerful kisses. His grumpiness in the mornings, that always softens when I cuddle him. His loving words and sweet gestures. It makes me swoon every time. I love him dearly and deeply. And nothing could change that, nothing could make me stop loving you Chilchuck. Not when we were kids and definitely not now.

“I don’t need gifts or flowers. I don’t need you to tell me you love me all the time. I don’t need to know about work and I could’ve gone a whole lifetime without meeting your friends because all I need is you. You in my arms, your kisses on my lips, your life entangled with mine.”

Chilchuck slowly pulled away, looking into Y/n’s eyes. All he could see was love and adoration, like he hung the stars themselves.

“I love you Chilchuck Tims. And I know you love me. That’s all I need.”

Chilchuck crashed his lips to hers. Pulling her into a searing breathless kiss. Y/n kissed him back just as hard. Trying to suffocate all of his own insecurities to make them die with her love alone. Chilchuck pulled her onto his lap, holding her close as he continued to kiss her breathless.

Within this moment, Chilchuck believed himself stupid for wanting his beautiful wife to find someone else. Stupid to think that she’d even think of going anywhere without him.

Stupid to believe that she didn’t love him the way he loved her because at this moment he’s drowning within her love and he’d die right there.

Because loving her was lucky.

And he was fucking lucky.

#chilchuck x reader #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck imagines #chilchuck x femreader #Chilchuck x y/n #chilchuck tims #chilchuck dunmeshi #dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #dunmeshi x reader #xreader #x reader #x fem reader #x yn #delicious in dungeon x reader #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon #reader #mx works

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starlight-eclipsed · 2 years ago

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Rockets Pointed Up at the Stars (Pt 2/2)

Part I

Despite what Phantom had implied, tracking down Batman wasn’t done in an instant.

Sure, they’d be back seconds after when they left. But with time travel in the mix, that could be hours or days apart. They’d already followed him back to his initial landing time, when Neanderthals were still around (and wow, was there a difference between factually knowing some people had been around since the dawn of humanity and physically seeing Vandal Savage in the flesh as a caveman). According to the trail left by Clockwork, the ghostly guardian of the timestream, they were getting close.

Apparently Bruce couldn’t make things easy and was also making jumps through time, which if left unchecked would cause the timeline collapse that Clockwork had recruited Phantom for. Specifically Phantom, as it turns out the thief that liked messing with him on weekends was also the Master of Space and the King of everything.

(Phantom insisted it was just a title, and he was only king of the Ghost Zone. It just so happened that the Ghost Zone was also known as the Infinite Realms, which contained every reality of every universe in existence.

And he’d won that title by defeating the previous ruler in single combat.

The High King had to scramble to catch Tim when his knees gave out at the realization that he had unknowingly gone toe to toe with someone who made Darkseid look like a toddler in a sandbox. What the fuck, Phantom.)

As of now, they were waiting for the actual Blackbeard’s ship to dock to investigate the fabled Black Pirate he supposedly fought a week ago, whose description matched Bruce’s. Phantom had gone to grab them something to eat while they waited in a tavern, leaving Tim to save his seat. If someone told him even a week ago that this was where he’d be, Tim would’ve interrogated them for hours to try to figure out what it meant.

But no, he was just sitting at a table in the 18th century, a medallion from the Master of Time hung around his neck, waiting for his hero-turned-king-gone-rogue to return with food while they waited for Blackbeard the legendary pirate to show up. Jason would probably kill to be here in his place.

Tim was broken out of his thoughts when Phantom returned, two bowls of soup in hand and balancing an additional plate of tough-looking bread on his forearm.

They’d been forced to ditch their masks when Puritans tried to have them hanged a century ago, now dressing in more accurate clothing to better blend in. Phantom had apologized for discovering Tim’s real name, going as far as to reveal his own secret identity: a black haired blue-eyed teen named Danny.

“Heads up, it’s gonna be either too salty or bland as wood. I’m pretty sure the cook wanted to strangle me for asking too many questions about the ingredients.”

Tim snorted, accepting his bowl, “Is that why we don’t get spoons?”

“Nah, the owner doesn’t trust customers to return the utensils. Drink from the bowl, though you might want to soak your bread if you don’t wanna pull a muscle chewing it.”

“Noted.” Tim dared to take a sip, mulling over the taste. It wasn’t anywhere near Alfred’s level, but a step above his own adventures in the kitchen before getting a hard ban post-pancake incident. It tasted closer to brine than soup, but it went surprisingly well with the bread.

Phantom hummed in pleasure, proving yet again that his standards for food consisted of ‘isn’t actively resisting consumption’. Tim could hardly judge him for it, seeing as his own bar wasn't much higher.

“So, I’d say we have an hour or two until our man arrives. Want to go over the plan again?”

Tim shrugged. “Unless it’s changed from ‘confirm Bruce was already here before following the nearest skip in time’, I think we’re good.”

Phantom nodded, silence falling over them as they ate their way through dinner. Tim kept an ear out for trouble, but the tavern was quite peaceful this time in the evening. It was likely to change once the Queen Anne's Revenge finished docking, but for now he’d savor the ambiance.

“Wanna play twenty questions?”

He blinked, refocusing on Phantom sitting across from him. “Huh?”

“I just figured it might pass the time. Twenty questions, no lies, though you can reject them if you don’t want to answer.”

Tim considered it before nodding, “Sure. How old are you?”

Phantom grinned, “Seventeen, same as you. Why Robin?”

“I wanted to help Batman after the previous one died. Nobody else would intervene, so I stepped in. Why Phantom?”

“Okay, hear me out…it’s a pun.”

Tim paused, gesturing for him to elaborate.

“Before I was half-ghost, my last name was Fenton. So as a ghost, Danny Fenton became—”

“Danny Phantom,” Tim groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were subtle.”

“Hey, nobody expects the dead guy to moonlight as a living person. Sunlight? Whatever. Favorite hobbies?”

“Photography and skateboarding. Favorite power?”

“Ooh, that’s a hard one. I’d have to say flight. Nothing beats flying at night. Sexuality?”

Tim spluttered, making Phantom laugh as he blushed. “What the heck?!”

“Hey, you can always skip,” the asshole offered.

“No, it just caught me off guard. I’m bi. You?”

“Pan. And trans, while we’re at it. Ghosts can shapeshift, so I got a perfect transition at the low cost of death.”

Tim snorted, “Death is an ally.”

“Absolutely, it comes for us all,” he winked. “If you had a single power, what would it be?”

“Something so I wouldn’t need to sleep. I can manage otherwise. What determines the things you take?”

Phantom grinned, “Once a detective. But seriously, I just aim for things that look cool and won’t be missed too much. Some people will kick up a fuss over their trash if they think it’s worth stealing. Thoughts on soulmates?”

He stopped, some part of him catching on how serious the otherwise silly sounding question was phrased. As if the way he answered this could mean life or death. “You mean, a couple acting like they’re made for each other?”

“Ah, I wasn’t sure whether you had them in your universe. On my Earth, everyone is born with some kind of connection to at least one other person. Shared thoughts, a timer countdown to the time they first meet, stuff like that. Platonic or romantic, they were called soulmates.”

“So…someone you’re destined to meet and get along with? Is it magic based?”

A nod. “Humanity’s done research but they haven’t concluded on that yet. I asked an Ancient whose domain was centered around it, and they said it was determined by a soul’s resonance. I don’t know the specifics, but something about how all souls that resonate a certain way are born with soulmarks, so that they have an easier time finding each other. There are studies about how soulmates tend to understand each other easier, but other than that there’s no empirical proof that they’re different from any other relationship.”

Tim considered it. What it might’ve been like, to be told the second he met Dick that fateful night at the circus, ‘this boy will permanently alter the course of your life’. To have been able to approach Batman that first time, point to his wrist, and automatically be listened to instead of resorting to blackmail. How much easier it would have been to avoid the misunderstandings that defined their whole family.

Then again, it would be just his luck to have been born in that world and not have any soul connections to the Wayne family, making him work twice as hard for the same level of trust. Or to be born without resonance at all, and be left knowing that he was truly beyond reach. What would that do to him, in a society where people could point at the worst criminals and say ‘even that monster has someone they love’? To be soulmates with a genuinely terrible person?

“It sounds like a mixed blessing,” Tim said, meeting Danny’s gaze directly. “I would love to have someone like that by my side, and I’d be terrified of being defined by it.”

Danny leaned back, wearing a self-deprecating smile that Tim was quickly learning to recognize. “Yeah, that’s fair. Your turn.”

“What…what is your personal experience with soulmates? If I’m allowed to ask.”

He hissed out a breath through his teeth. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought you’d say.”

“I can ask something else?”

Danny waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll answer, just lemme figure out how to put it.”

“I’ll return our dishes while you think through what you want to say.” Tim stood with his empty bowl, easily accepting the other bowl and plate as they were handed to him.

Walking back, Tim cataloged the people hanging around the tavern. A group of friends huddled around a dozen plates, decked out in gear that made it look like they just finished having some grand adventure. The bartender, a sly smile on her face as a drunken man clumsily flirted with his own wife. The cook instructing a boy to retrieve the dishes from Tim, sending a calculating glance in Danny’s direction before nodding at Tim and turning back to the fire.

Tim didn’t spend a lot of time in public anymore. His fame attracted far too much attention now that the press could consistently recognize him. But maybe once things settled back down again, he’d try civilian life again. There was something different about living alongside the people he worked to save, instead of far above looking down.

By the time he returned to his seat, Danny looked ready to talk.

“My soulmate rejected me when we were little.”

Tim blinked. “You can do that?”

“Ah…sorta? Depending on the connection, one side can choose to shut it down. Mine let us exchange messages. I was a dumb kid, and sent out a ton every day to try and get any kind of response that they were out there. They got sick of it and blocked me.” Danny laughed, but it wasn't very funny.

“I’m sorry. That sounds awful.”

“Don’t be. I annoy everyone—it was only a matter of time before I did something to chase them away.”

“Would you stop doing that?”

Danny blinked, tilting his head in silent question.

“Look, I get that you went through a lot of shit before coming to Gotham. But you keep acting like it’s a given that everyone you meet will be awful to you, and it sucks to hear you talk like that when I’m having fun with you. It wasn't your fault, so stop claiming credit for it. If I can’t justify losing Robin, you can’t justify being abandoned.”

“...alright then.” Danny huffed, folding his arms and pouting. “Neither of us can talk shit about ourselves.”

The twinkle in his eyes was enough for Tim to know he got through to him.

— - —

Tim leaned up against a fence in the Wild West, shifting uncomfortably in his dust coated clothes. Danny was perched beside him, smugly radiating a cool breeze that may very well have been the only thing keeping Tim upright in the summer sun.

“There’s too much sunlight here, it’s unnatural.”

“That’s just your Gothamite showing, city-boy.”

“Fuck off.”

Danny’s laughter had become a staple of the past few days spent traveling through history. In turn, Tim found himself happier than he’d been in ages, making sarcastic comments about anything that caught his eye in an attempt to get Danny to laugh more.

So far, he’d yet to fail to bring at least a smile to the other’s face.

Right now they were in the late 19th century, following rumors that Bruce had somehow crossed paths with Vandal Savage again. It was bordering on ridiculous, and a part of Tim wondered if this was why the legendary criminal stayed well away from Gotham waters. He was going to have to ask Bruce what was up with that after this whole mess was over.

“So,” Danny started, leaning closer to him. “Have any plans for when we’re back in modern day?”

Tim shrugged, “I see a lengthy report to Batman, hours spent explaining everything he missed while he was gone. I swear I’ll be up all week helping him catch up.”

A snort. “I meant about Robin. No offense, but you looked miserable in your new costume.”

He paused. He hadn’t quite processed the knowledge that bringing Bruce back wouldn’t also bring back his role as Robin. It was obvious whenever he actually thought about it, but to him Bruce coming home was still synonymous to going back to how things were before he was lost in time.

“I don’t know…Red Robin was just supposed to be temporary. It was one of Red Hood’s old aliases, not really mine.”

Danny turned to him. “Do you want a new one? If you decide now, we can lay the basis for some local legend to act as future inspiration for the new title.”

Tim elbowed him, “We aren’t messing with the timeline to establish lore for my new identity.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! I did it back in my original world, there’s ancient frescos of me winning chariot races and everything.”

“How are you and Clockwork still on speaking terms?”

“Oh, he totally finds it as funny as I do. He just has to pretend to be serious all the time so the Observants don’t crack down on him for shirking his duties.”

“You’re a bad influence on the embodiment of time,” Tim concluded with wide eyes.

A wide grin stretched across Danny’s face as he lied through his teeth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“How did you even—he’s millennia older than you!”

“Counterparts, remember? It’s not a soul bond, but it’s easy to see ourselves in each other. Besides, time is relative; he's like a weird grandpa-uncle-cousin.”

Tim shook his head, but couldn’t quite force down the laughter in his lungs.

“Hey, I know for a fact I’m not the only bad influence here. No matter how much you claim that sleep is for the dead, I’m physical proof against that.”

“Whatever. You know when the next jump is?”

Danny tilted his head, as if listening for something only meant for his ears. “If Bats already came through here, there’s only two big timesinks left he could be in. Either sometime in the 20th century, or in a designated Vanishing Point.”

“Vanishing Point?”

“Yeah, it’s something of a collaboration between the Observants, Clockwork, and Ghost Writer. Each universe has an archive set right around its eventual heat death. It’s like an empty room in a video game with props the devs left in to keep the system running after inadvertently designing the whole code in reference to a lemon.”

“I…never mind. Why would Batman be there?”

“Oh, ‘cause he’s traveling through time without one of these,” Danny tapped Tim’s chest, right where his Time Medallion lay under his shirt. “They’re designed to safely disperse the energy gained each time we make a jump, among other things. Otherwise we’d just be building up enough to wipe the timeline from existence. Or something like that, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Tim suddenly realized that this was what his former teammates meant when they complained about him executing strategies without explaining his thought process first. He still stood by his stance that it was more effective to explain things as they happened, but he was developing a new sense of empathy for them.

“Okay. Batman is a time-charged universe level bomb threat, and is getting funneled into the Backrooms so he blows up with everything else in existence. What can we do to stop that?”

Danny blinked. “Sorry, I thought it was obvious. I already carry a medallion with me wherever I go, so I was just gonna have you put the spare Clocky gave me on him to filter it out.”

Yep. This was karma for never giving people the full story behind any of his plans.

“I’m going to need you to go over everything we need to do when we get to this Vanishing Point. Twice.”

“Okie doke! So I’m gonna leave you with my spare medallion to help Bats while I throw down with Darkseid’s hyper-dimensional mind slave he sent after him to ensure his demise—”

Gift baskets. Tim owed so many people gift baskets for putting up with his bullshit.

— - —

When Tim found him, Danny was perched on the same apartment building they’d last met on.

His hood was down, freeing his flaming white hair to burn without heat in the night. His face was turned towards the sky, looking for all like he was somehow stargazing in spite of the thick smog that blanketed the city. It would’ve made for a stunning picture, if not for how soul crushingly lonely the scene felt.

Danny startled when Tim’s grappling hook latched onto the rooftop beside him. The halfa was quick to brighten upon seeing Tim down below, scooting over to make room for him as he reeled in the line and pulled himself up.

“Fancy meeting you here, Detective.”

Tim huffed, readjusting his utility belt. “The others won’t stop pestering me about how Batman was brought back when I shouldn’t have access to any time travel devices. It’s a miracle I was even able to get out of the Batcave without getting smothered.”

“You didn’t tell them about me?”

“You didn’t want them to know.”

Danny looked stunned. He physically shook himself out of it, a glowing green blush rising to his cheeks as he turned away. “Thanks.”

Tim absentmindedly nodded as he smoothly slipped a black marker from his belt while Danny was distracted. This had the potential to either go very smoothly or backfire completely, but it had to be done to sate his curiosity. Now that Bruce was home and he’d gotten the time to think over their conversations, pieces had started to align in his head. It was just a matter of taking the leap and confirming it for himself.

Reaching up to his own cheek, Tim wrote in practiced motions, focusing on the thought of sending it through to whoever was on the other side.

Danny jumped, hand slapping to his own cheek as he whipped his head around to stare at Tim in open shock. He shrugged sheepishly.

“Your description of soulmates was familiar. Between that and the cloak, I really should’ve put it together sooner.”

“You’re…not mad?”

Tim shifted, stashing the marker back in its rightful place. “I wish I knew sooner. I never meant to hurt you—Batman was getting on my case about the writing on my arms being recognizable in costume, and I never thought to wonder why it was happening in the first place.”

Danny shook his head, a wet chuckle escaping his lips. “You couldn’t have known. It would’ve freaked anyone out, getting messages from a different universe on their skin.”

“Neither did you. Know, I mean. Me blocking the connection was never on you.”

“Well…”

“I mean it.”

“Fine, fine. So…does that mean…?”

Tim carefully reached out his hands to grasp onto his soulmate’s, intertwining their fingers. It was remarkable how easily they fit together. “I don’t know if it’s romantic or not, but I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

Danny collapsed forward into Tim’s arms. He could hardly make out the muffled affirmative, but the message was crystal clear. Leaning down to set his chin on the top of Danny’s head, he let himself savor this moment.

Tomorrow, he could beg Danny to experiment with the extent of their bond. They could talk about new ideas for his hero name, and Danny could get another shot at convincing him to go on a worldwide anti-multi-billionaire tour. The two of them had potentially forever to work out this newfound aspect of their relationship.

For the time being, Tim relaxed back against a chain link fence with his soulmate in his arms, the word ‘BOO’ scribbled in black marker across both their faces.

— - —

And that's a wrap! There's definitely room for more, but these were the all the scenes I wanted to cover ^-^

I think in this universe, Danny and Tim end up working as a slightly morally grey hero duo. They go global for a bit, Tim wanting to train under more people to better keep up with Danny (who follows along invisibly as backup). This eventually gets the attention of Ra's, and you can imagine how that goes XD

They're a bit overly attached; neither of them really have a healthy sense of boundaries, which causes a bit of conflict here and there. Tim is the one that insists on taking breaks to avoid becoming too codependent, which only really results in them deepening the soul bond to a ridiculous degree. Ironically it's during this that Tim discovers how he can send pressure marks through to Danny, who immediately converts it to morse code (oops).

Thanks for reading!

Tag list:

@skulld3mort-1fan @profoundsoulsong @daemonlogical @bobred18 @ashoutinthedarkness @hilariousseagoat @undead-essence @ekatkit @wolfjackle @awkwardmaiden @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

#dp x dc fanfic #danny phantom #tim drake #red robin #brain dead #rejected soulmate au #danny x tim #my fic #complete #gonna be honest I planned to stop at part I #but it felt incomplete so I threw together a bunch of scenes I wanted to see between them #pacing is for people with time

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dcartcorner · 1 year ago

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a fantasy/dnd au because i can't help myself and the thought of ancient blue dragon simon who disguises himself as a human brings me joy.

please enjoy this small one shot ft. s1 adventuring crew (please excuse any errors, writing is not my strong suit!)

Rumours at the Tavern Characters: Tim, Simon, Sasha, Martin, Jon Ships: none

It wasn’t what Tim would consider a nice tavern. He had performed in nicer ones, ones where the counters were meticulously cleaned and the patrons were at least passably polite to the serving staff, and a mug of ale would set you back a silver piece. This place was not quite like that.

Then again, Tim had been to worse sorts of dives.

The Lazy Storm sat right smack in the middle of the two kinds of taverns, perched on the cliff side overlooking the choppy seas of the western coast, amidst the fjords in the town of Killn’s Rest. Not a bad place, not a good place. Just a place, somewhere to find some warmth, a quick meal, and something to drink. It was also the sort of tavern that didn’t take fire hazards all that seriously, if the number of people making merry that evening within its walls was any indication of the owner’s outlook on safety. It was busy, to the point where crowds spilled out onto the street even though the summer had come to a close and the winter, with its biting chill, was fast approaching.

Perhaps that’s why Tim noticed him - the old man. Because he was sitting on the bar top.

There were few other seats around. Sasha had managed to charm their way to a table of their own earlier in the night while Martin tried to see about rooms, and their party had stayed planted at said table all night as the crowds slowly but surely filtered in for the evening. They were lucky, in this regard, as many other people were forced to stand shoulder to shoulder. Not that old man, though. Perched on the edge of the bar like a bird, smiling kindly at the person next to him.

And his choice of seat was not the only peculiar thing about him, Tim thought. He wore clothing that Tim could only describe as ornate. If this was one of those nice taverns Tim had played in, he might have expected that sort of the look, but this wasn’t one of those places. This was the Lazy Storm, and that man was incredibly overdressed.

“It’s weird, right?” Tim said aloud. Martin looked up, then glanced around. Sasha craned her neck to look at him. Jon didn’t look up from his book. Tim nodded in the direction of the old man. “Someone dressed like that in a place like this. That’s odd, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” Sasha shrugged.

“Where?” Martin asked.

“Good on him, getting dressed up to go out for a night,” said Sasha.

“I think it’s weird,” said Tim. Because it was.

“Where?” Martin asked again. “Oh. Him? I mean. I suppose it’s… well, it’s a little odd.” The twist of a frown at the corners of Martin’s mouth. “Someone should offer him a seat.”

“Seems happy enough where he is,” Sasha said with a huff of a laugh as the other man at the bar leaned closer to the old man and whispered something to him.

“Could we please focus,” Jon finally interjected, shutting the book.

Tim rolled his eyes as he took a swig of his drink. It wasn’t silver coin ale. This was a copper-piece-per-tankard-ale, and it tasted like it. Which was to say, it tasted like a good night in the making.

“Have any of you actually asked anyone about any jobs yet?” Jon said.

“Asked just about as many people as you,” Tim said. By this, Tim meant: none.

“There’s a rat problem in the sewers,” Sasha said, “according to one guard. Doesn’t pay well, but at least it pays.”

“There are bandits, too,” Martin added. “Uh, just out east of here. Somewhere. Apparently they have a den in the woods? But I think someone might’ve already taken that one.”

“Mm.” Jon was not impressed. He looked over at Tim. “Anything?”

Tim raised his hands. “Don’t look at me, I can get a job whenever.” Plenty of people out there who were willing to pay for some good music. “Or did you forget who bought the rooms and drinks?”

Jon leaned his elbows on the table and put his face in his hands momentarily. Then looked up at Tim and said, “Could you please just. Ask.”

“Jon, maybe we should just… take a night off?” Martin suggested. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing…”

Jon shot him a look and that was the end of that conversation.

Well, didn’t matter. Jon didn’t have to join them in having a good night if he didn’t want to. Tim wasn’t going to let it bother him, and he got up to go order another drink with his own hard earned money, ignoring how much lighter his coin purse was compared to earlier that day.

Why was it his problem anyway, that they didn’t have much in the way of coin? He wasn’t going to let it get to him. It wasn’t getting to him. He and Sasha and Martin were just some poor souls dragged along on Jon’s pointless quest to find some answers that had nothing to do with any of them. So why did it matter?

It didn’t matter.

Dammit.

The old man was not the first person he asked that night about a job. As he waited for a drink he asked the person to his left and to his right, but neither of them were keen on talking - and it took him a little too long to realize they were part of their own adventuring party based on the matching bands on their arms, and wouldn’t be sharing any information with him. He tried to ask the bartender as well, but she was too busy to give him any answer that was not a look of inconvenience.

Tim sighed. And he kept asking, until finally his route around the tavern brought him to the old man at the bar. Sat there, dressed strangely, looking for all the world like he should be just about anywhere else.

“Are you quite alright?” the old man asked him. Tim blinked. “Not that I mind, but I’ve been told it’s rude to stare.”

Had he been staring? “Sorry,” Tim said. The old man smiled at him.

“Something I can do for you?” the old man asked.

Tim looked around briefly. The other person with whom the old man had been speaking earlier that night was gone. “Don’t suppose there is,” Tim said. “Unless you know of any get rich quick jobs around this place.”

The old man chuckled. “Well now, I can think of a few, but I’m not entirely sure those are the type you’re looking for,” he said, resting his hands on the head of his cane which he had propped up on the empty edge of one of the bar-stools. “Tough times, out there. Or so I hear. Something about the supply and demand of it all, I think. Too many adventurers, too few problems that need solving! At least around these parts.” The old man sighed thoughtfully. “This coast isn’t what it used to be. Time was you couldn’t take two steps on the road without running into bandits or cultists or a proper mountain troll. Now you’d be lucky to find a good sized rat nest to clean up.”

“Yeah, well. Killing rats doesn’t pay well,” Tim said.

The old man smiled, watching Tim over the rim of his glasses. His eyes were sharply blue, Tim noticed. “No,” the man agreed. “No it doesn’t.” He tilted his head. “Terribly sorry, but I’m afraid you’ll have to go further afield to find anything.”

“Thanks anyway,” Tim said, defeated.

“Although,” the old man said as Tim was turning away. Tim paused and looked back at him. “I’ve heard a rumour. There have been a few ships that have come into the harbour with some particularly strange news out of the Shivering Straight. Up north. Word is there have been a handful of whaling ships that have gone missing around Helkelson Bay. Only a couple of survivors. Those that do manage to best the frostbite say… well. You know how sailors can be, always creating the most fanciful stories. A ghost ship, they say! The mayor of Helkelson isn’t altogether convinced it’s anything so peculiar as that, though I hear he’s offering a handsome reward to anyone willing to… solve the problem. Whatever that problem may be.”

“Helkelson?” Tim said.

“That’s right,” the old man replied with a smile. “Ask around the docks, I’d say. Plenty of merchant ships coming and going that way. Of course, it’s only a rumour.”

Tim smiled back. “Better than nothing.”

It was at that moment the old man’s companion returned and gave Tim a wary look. Tim took it as his cue to leave with a nod of thanks and an imaginary tip of the hat before he returned to the table to join his companions.

“Let me start,” he said to them, “by saying you’re welcome. Now, any of you been to the Shivering Straight?”

#tma #the magnus archives #dnd au #fantasy au #tim stoker #sasha james #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #simon fairchild #fic #one shot #yes tim is a bard #fanart

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incorrectbatfam · 1 year ago

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Batfam as made-up facts

Dick: The biggest biohazard in public swimming pools isn't the kid that peed in it, but rather the body oil from all the swimmers accumulating over time. Not only is oil not neutralized by pool chemicals such as chlorine, but it also floats to the surface and is the first thing you make contact with when you jump in the water. This is why a lot of public pools ask people to shower beforehand.

Jason: Making new memories is simply the process of our brains creating and reinforcing new neural connections. Traumatic or impactful events see denser myelination in the hippocampus (brain's memory center) and it's theorized that when we die and our "life flashes before our eyes," there's more activity in those denser regions leading to more vivid images of those moments.

Tim: Klondike's Equation is one of the lesser-known unsolved mysteries in math. It's a branch of calculus that takes Olivar's Laws of four-dimensional derivatives and creates a paradoxal equation by which the right half of it cannot be fully written if the left half is unsolved, but the left half needs values from the right in order to be computed.

Damian: The oldest interactive/roleplaying game dates back to the ancient Sumerians, according to records. It consisted of a theater of clay puppets that the audience would chime in with how they should act. It was often performed at bars or taverns during holidays with stories themed around mythical deities or fables.

Duke: In 1982, Bill Watterson brought to Archie Comics a standalone concept of a child hero and a sentient animal companion. However, he was rejected in favor of the up-and-coming Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles story. After shopping around at companies and getting lots of rejections, Watterson finally found his big break with Andrews McMeel Publishing, cementing his place in comic history with the cult classic Calvin and Hobbes.

Cullen: The smallest readable book ever made is 12 nanometers long by 8 nanometers wide. It was engineered by four particle physics grad students at the University of Vienna and contains the first passage of the Bible across six microscopic pages.

Stephanie: Most aerosol cans use both oxygen and carbon dioxide as the aerosolizing agent, which is why you're told never to spray them near an open flame. However, for food (like whipped cream or spray cheese), nitrogen is used instead. This is to prevent perishable food from oxidizing and for preservation as nitrogen helps maintain a cooler inner temperature.

Cassandra: The most plausible explanation for the legendary chupacabra was proposed by a team of anthropologists in Oaxaca. Essentially, it combines the theories of mass hysteria with the existence of a similar creature that went extinct in early Mesoamerican history. As accounts of this now-extinct creature was passed down, the image of it was slowly distorted. The modern chupacabra legend likely arose in a period of mass hysteria during political and economical insecurity.

Barbara: Traditional computer programs can be broken down into a series of if-then commands by which a condition is given and the program must respond according to the parameters. However, machine learning algorithms use an expanded version of this, known colloquially as if-then-but-because-however. The "if-then" stipulates the parameters, the "but" is for modifiers, the "because" is for generating explanations (usually pulled from a database of other works unfortunately), and the "however" is for exceptions that may rise over the course of running the program.

Harper: Ambidextrous people actually struggle the most when it comes to the drums. Most drum setups and tabs (sheet music) are designed with right-handedness as a default. Left-handed people can simply flip it around it for themselves. However, ambidextrous players have been found to struggle with the asymmetry of the instrument. That's why, among professional rock drummers, only 6% are ambidextrous compared to the 18% of lefties and 76% of righties.

Carrie: Although it feels like our lungs are burning after holding our breath for a while, the sensation actually originates from our inflated diaphragm pressing against our lungs. Since there are more nerve endings around our lungs than our diaphragm, we interpret the feeling higher than where it actually occurs.

Kate: During the war of 1812, a group of nine Canadian men known as the False Damsels donned women's attire to act as spies against the Americans. Of the nine, four of them reportedly continued crossdressing after the war and one of them started going by Margaret a few months later and remained unmarried for 20 years until they moved to Portugal with an unknown courter.

Alfred: In 1757, the British government attempted to train livestock, such as cows and chickens, to spy on domestic threats (such as anti-monarchists). However, this project never took off due to a regional outbreak of avian flu combined with the takeoff of the Industrial Revolution and new inventions that rendered animal labor obsolete.

Selina: Coffees and wines contain a bitter compound called tannins, and the ability to taste them is genetically determined. Capsaicin can be seen analogously. Some people inherit a gene that allows them to detect capsaicin fully, so when they eat a pepper, all they get is the heat and little to no flavor. Conversely, others have a gene where the heat is "muted" and they can better distinguish the flavors between two spicy foods.

Bruce: There is a correlation between one's taste in food and expectation of others. According to a 2019 Harvard study, people who reported preferring more simultaneous flavors in their food were 26% harsher in an activity where they had to grade students' mock essays.

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shijjii · 2 months ago

Text

More than feeling rested

So- I've been trying to work on my dungeon meshi character. I've somewhat built a small story for them but the thing is that I am kind of scared that the lore of them might be a little Mary Sue? I hope not, honestly. I'll probably tweak some stuff around as I try to finish drawing them but I don't really have the energy to draw right now so here I am writing! I hope everyone enjoys it! Pairing: GN!Reader x Chilchuck Tims Genre: I guess kind of fluff? It's mostly cuddling. Though, TW because Drinking and Smoking is mentioned in the story (reader is the one smoking). Also some cussing. A bit of OOC from Chilchuck tho Word count: 1,148 words Reader appearance/notes: Tall-man!Reader

The sun was setting the horizon when the party came out of the dungeon. Laios thinking that he wants to go to the market to buy some stuff that they'll need in the next dungeon crawl, Marcille and Falin going to the inns to rest, meanwhile, Chilchuck, Namari and you decide to hit the taverns and release your chaos to it.

Namari was laughing out loud as Chilchuck tells her a story that happened a while back. You were hanging about while contently drinking your pint of beer. "Yeah, it was so shit quality!" Chilchuck exclaims. As you observe how he explains his story, you notice the bags under his eyes. He looks very tired despite his smiling face.

Namari bursted out in tears as they continued on, as she was doing so, the half-foot's attention turned to you "what about you, ____? What's a moment you'll never forget?" He asks you, eyes filled with warmth and amusement after him and Namari talked

"Accidentally tripping down a flight of stairs and dying is something that's stuck to me-" Both Namari and Chilchuck bursted out laughing "is that why you always stick close to the wall???" The dwarf asks, you nod at her question embarrassed. Downing the pint of alcohol you had and pulling out your pack of cigarettes to avoid looking at them.

"it happened once but it traumatized me a lot, okay?" You tell them but they wouldn't stop snickering at it.

"you know, usually, people die because of monsters" Chilchuck started "but somehow, you died because of your own clumsiness?" He teases you, swiftly taking a swig from his own pint as you huff a puff of smoke and groan at his teasing "shut up" you grumble. Carefully taking the ash tray in the middle of the table and removing the excess ash from your cigarette.

"may I?" Chilchuck asks for your cigarette, if he can have a drag out of it too, while Namari gets her stuff "right, I'm leaving you two here. I'm gonna go home and rest" she sleepily tells them. Both you and Chilchuck wave good bye at her as Chilchuck continue to take a drag from your cigarette "hey now, I know I allowed you to have some but don't forget to give it back" You joke, making Chilchuck throw his head back and bark out a laugh

Apologizing, he gives it back to you and both of you continue to talk with each other as the night progressed on. Topics getting deeper and serious as the two of you drink more.

"yeah well, things happen, and no matter how long we've been, it doesn't change the fact that she doesn't want me anymore" He whispers under his breath, talking about his wife always puts him in a solemn mood but he didn't really know who else to talk about it to.

You hum and ponder what he just told you "While ye might think that yer so old now, you still have life ahead of you. I'm sure ye'll still find sumone you can be wiz" you shrug, words slurring a little bit from all the alcohol, and Chilchuck took notice of this

"I think we should head back to our lodging" You look at the sky and then inside the tavern, seeing what time it was on a clock, both of you would take a lot of time getting back at the inn the other party members are in.

"M'house is somewhere here...." You tell him slowly, trying to regain some of your soberness "if ye want, we can just use that instead'f walking all the way back to the inn" Chilchuck hummed to himself before nodding. "That's a good idea actually" He mumbles, both of you paying for your drinks

"lead the way, ____" He calls out. The both of you walked towards your home. Sometimes, eyes looking up at the sky to see the stars on it, making the two of you smile in content. The cold gust of air hitting your faces making you a little bit awake as you two rounded the corner and see a little quaint house.

You slightly fumble with the keys and open the door "make yerself at home" You tell him before going inside and trying to see where you kept your extra bed for him to sleep on. Thirty minutes had passed and you've yet to find it, your head slowly spinning with the world around you and Chilchuck knew it was getting bad for you.

"Right, this what we gonna do" You start, taking a pillow from your bed and putting it in the middle "this is going to be our divider. That side is yours and this side is mine. Good night" not waiting for his response, you kick your shoes off of your feet and laid down on the bed. The last thing you hear from him is an amused scoff before the other side of the bed sinks unto someone's weight.

The next morning, you can hear pitter patter of the rain hitting against the windows, only a small ray of sunshine peaking through the dark clouds. Despite this gloomy weather, you felt incredibly warm. Delving deeper into the blanket and holding the pillow even tighter than before, you just wanted nothing more but to fall asleep once again.... That was until you hear a small peep from something-or well, someone- your eyes open snap to see a half-foot in your arms, red as a tomato

Immediately letting go of him, he coughs through a clenched fist and awkwardly scratches the back of his head "I'm so sorry" you start, not looking at the half-foot.

"Uh" You give him a little glance as he speaks up "don't apologize. That was uh...." He kept looking at you then at the floor "That was the best sleep I got in a while" He admits, a tinge of redness reaching his cheeks and ears.

"It's been a while since I slept that good" You blink at his confession, not sure what to do. A long silence embraced both of you until you reached out to him and pulled him back into bed. "What are you-" He asks flustered

"This doesn't go out of this room..." You tell him with furrowed eyebrows as you cuddle him in bed "It's still early and it's raining... Might as well make the best of it" He hums awkwardly, letting himself melt into your touch "Might as well" He agreed with you, shuffling a bit to make himself comfortable in your hold and put his head against your head "This is more than feeling rested. Feels like heaven" He whispers against his palm as he feels your hand running through his hair gently.

Both of you enjoy the cold morning by cuddling in bed, promising to never talk about this interaction outside of the room.

#chilchuck #chilchuck tims #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck fanfiction #chilchuck tims fanfiction #chilchuck fanfic #chilchuck tims fanfic #dungeon meshi fanfiction #dungeon meshi fanfic #delicious in dungeon fanfiction #delicious in dungeon fanfic #I NEED CUDDLES SO I WRITE THIS

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