#first work for this fandom

[our-future-is-up-to-us-2]

Score!

Fic number 2! @narcosfandomdiscord

Enjoy <3

Prompt #15, Book Of How TF Did We Get Here: Ambition

Word Count: 1.3K

Relationships: Trent Crimm & Ted Lasso

Warnings: None

~ Read the fic under the cut ~

Trent doesn’t know where he gets it from. 

Well, not just one ‘it’, but all of it.  

He watches Ted sit down for the press, bags heavy underneath his eyes, and watches him fumble with the crowd. 

Let battle commence.  

Amidst sparkling water and goalies resembling Mickey Mouse, the British journalist can determine that the American’s career is going to shit. 

He may have thrived well in the States, but here, it’s clearly a different ballgame, both figuratively and literally. 

Trent cracks a smile when the coach gestures his way. After all, he deserves some brutal honesty, rather than a mishmash of questions followed by a ramble on his non-existent football background. 

“ Trent Crimm, The Independent. ” Because it never hurts to make himself known, “So, you’re an American , whose athletic success has only come at the amateur level…” 

He weaves the words together, careful and precise, because he’ll hit Ted where he needs to be hit. He’ll make sure that nothing is wasted, that there’s the blow-by-blow effect of it all, scrunching up in Lasso’s sorry face. 

Instead, after all that, he remains unfazed. 

“You got a question in there, Trent?” 

Of course, The journalist thinks, clutching his glasses tightly, Better be well prepared for it. 

“Yeahhh,” He speaks without a care in the world, and yet, with this calculated fierceness that seems to send a shiver up Ted’s spine, “ Is this a fucking joke? ” 

***

There comes a time to observe the pitch, and instead of Ted Lasso the person, rather, Ted Lasso at work. 

After all, it seems appropriate that a coach stands on the sidelines, coincidentally, where he also lurks. 

“Hello, Coach Ted Lasso from America.” 

“Hello, Trent Crimm from The Independent! ” 

The exchange flies by like they’ve been friends for years, and the journalist unfortunately feels it. 

This is what Rebecca must’ve warned him about, relentless niceties and a general air of… Well, kindness. This sort of thing may as well be foreign to Richmond’s population. Crimm certainly knows that he can withhold a smile. 

“You’re organising a play, Ted.”

The man hurriedly nods, looking between the journalist and his players. 

That kind of nod… He muses, almost daring to say it out loud, just to rile the other up, “Is it really your play?” 

At first, the manager shrugs, before shaking his head and gesturing to someone in the distance, “Naw, I wish it was, Trent. Instead this was cooked up by Nate the Great! One and only.” 

Well, I’ll be, He thinks, writing the name down on his notepad and taking a step closer to Lasso.

“Letting everyone else do the work around here, hm?” 

“ No, ” Ted playfully wags a finger, “I’m just– Adjusting, you see! Besides, everyone in AFC Richmond is a part of the team, from me, to the players, to Rebecca, and Nate. We’ve all gotta bond.” 

Coach Beard, next to the other coach, nods, arms crossed as he focuses on the game ahead. 

“Did ya see that?!” The manager beams, “There’s your headline! ‘Nate The Great Makes A Great Play, Man Nods Head’!”  

Trent sucks in a breath, How can he be so sure of himself? It’s as though this play could fail miserably, and he’d still be… Happy.

Instead, the journalist adds some notes to his collection, laser-focused until Ted speaks again. 

“Lookin’ forward to that profiling today.” He says with an outstretched hand. 

He can’t do anything else. It’s disrespectful to ignore such a polite gesture, let alone swat away Ted Lasso’s hand. 

He takes Ted’s sweaty hand in his own, stifling back a laugh as their eyes awkwardly meet.  

“Looking forward to profiling you.” 

Well, how genuinely can he express that? Trent Crimm from The Independent , expressing feelings? Absurd. 

He supposes things are just the slightest bit more genuine, because he’s doing something he loves, surrounded by the energy of a person full of love. 

But, there’s still more to uncover, so he won’t be broken so soon. 

***

By the end of that night, he’s leaning back in his chair, relishing the words as though they were a meal, reflecting on an opinion piece well done. 

His eyes scan over the last words and how truthful they were, how much they shed to light… He would coin it ‘The Ted Lasso Effect’, for he remains swayed by such a simple conversation. 

And though I believe that Ted Lasso will fail here, and Richmond will suffer the embarrassment of relegation, I won’t gloat when it happens. Because I can’t help but root for him.

It’s savagery, restraint, and kindness all in one. 

Trent can only wonder where the next matches will take the team, and whether there will be the embarrassment of relegation to begin with. Maybe Ted Lasso will pull the team through, let them soar to incredible heights. Maybe they will plummet to the ground, face first, and he’ll understand what it is like to suffer, over and over again. 

Only time can tell where Richmond will go, all in the hands of some crazy (good) American. 

***

Trent Crimm is not just a journalist for football, but an avid football fan, too. 

The two go hand in hand, because, when he’s not reporting the games, he’ll watch them. From the comfort of home is, of course, the most preferable, but something tells him to buy tickets for the next game. To brace the cold weather and attend in person, like something will miraculously emerge from the pitch. 

With a sigh, he slumps into his seat and crosses his legs, his eyes predominantly tracking Ted Lasso, especially at the half-time mark. 

Jamie scores a goal and he’s benched?! What madness! The journalist thinks, craning his neck to see the manager in rapid-fire conversation with Rebecca, If I had any vulgarity in me, I’d be following the words of the crowd… 

They all call him a ‘wanker’, and Trent does not dispute the idea. Instead, he watches the community fight against him one moment, and become endeared the next. 

As time ticks on, he’s prepared to walk out of the stadium, seeing the tie at 2-2, and finding very little hope in Richmond to win. After all, ties do exist here, as Ted had to find out on his first day. 

A tie is better than a loss, and if anything, the manager should be pleased with that result. 

Trent shakes his head but somehow remains in his seat, since Cockburn’s sent the ball flying down the pitch, and captain Roy Kent is off to the races– 

This is the adrenaline, the exhilaration of football at its finest. 

To his surprise and sheer happiness, Sam Obisanya receives the ball, kicks well, and buries it.  

He doesn’t hesitate to stand up and cheer with the crowd, clapping with the rest of them. It’s an honest and open celebration, something that warms his heart. 

Trent Crimm even manages a smile, a smile when Ted jumps around the field, hugging Coach Beard and Nate the Great for good measure, only to walk onto the pitch and high-five his teammates. 

The whole thing strikes a chord with the British journalist, the high of the victory never dissipating for a second. However, as the crowd settles down, he does the same, sitting back in his seat. 

Pulling out his notepad, he writes: 

Ted Lasso manages a stunning first win for AFC Richmond. Benching Jamie was a gut-wrenching decision, but one that has paid off. The victory does not come lightly, and should be celebrated as much as possible while it lasts. 

If this match has proven anything, it proves that teams can rise to greatness, propelled by a crazy (good) American coach and manager, who strives with optimism and ambition. 

It’s the type of ambition that leaves a thorough mark on its audiences, and one that I hope never changes. 

And with that, Trent Crimm from The Independent has scored in his own way, heading home with a lighter head and heart than he has in a long time. 

[hinamie]

i'm exactly as normal about him as I thought I'd be

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.

[michelle-jwhssp2719]

Maybe should've tried harder for that scholarship

[zhelin-thames]

Now pay interest - 10% per year

Masterpost

As the Bat-family processed what had just happened, Jason was already plotting.

“So,” Jason began, a wicked grin spreading across his face, “does this mean we have a ghost King in the family now? Because I’ve got so many questions.”

“Focus, Todd,” Damian snapped, though his own curiosity was evident in his furrowed brow. “That... entity was clearly powerful. Father, why did you not inform us of this connection sooner?”

Bruce didn’t even glance up from his computer. “It was irrelevant.”

“Irrelevant?” Dick exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “A glowing ghost guy just popped out of a portal in our cave to collect a debt, and you think it’s irrelevant?”

Tim, typing furiously, pulled up the mission logs from Bruce’s early years. “Okay, I think I found the mission in Prague where this all went down. It says here... wait. Danny wasn’t just some guy you ran into. You trained with him in the League of Assassins?”

Steph leaned over Tim’s shoulder to read. “Wait, what?! He’s an assassin ghost King?”

Jason let out a low whistle. “This just gets better and better.”

Duke raised his hand, hesitant. “Uh, just a thought… if he’s the Ghost King, doesn’t that mean he has control over, like, all ghosts? Including... uh, Lazarus Pits?”

Everyone froze. Slowly, they all turned to Bruce, whose expression darkened slightly.

“Yes,” Bruce admitted reluctantly.

“Holy crap,” Jason said, leaning back with a stunned look. “He’s the reason the Pits freaked me out after I came back, isn’t he? I thought it was just the resurrection thing, but you knew he was tied to them!”

Bruce’s silence was answer enough.

“I want to meet him,” Cass signed firmly.

“Seconded,” Duke added. “He seems cool.”

“No,” Bruce said, finally standing and cutting through the rising chatter. His tone was firm, brooking no argument. “Danny is not someone you want to get involved with.”

But before Bruce could elaborate, the room was bathed in green light again.

Danny reappeared, now sitting cross-legged in mid-air, holding what looked like a spectral clipboard. “Forgot one thing,” he announced casually.

Bruce’s glare could have burned through steel. “What now?”

Danny smirked. “I want interest. Fifteen years is a long time to wait for sixteen bucks. So let’s say... ten percent per year?”

Jason cackled as the rest of the family broke out into laughter. Even Damian couldn’t entirely suppress a smirk.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose again. “I’m not paying you interest.”

Danny shrugged, grinning. “Guess I’ll have to stick around until you do. Hope you’ve got extra space, because I’m moving in.”

The Batcave erupted into chaos. Jason and Steph cheered, Tim frantically calculated how much Bruce technically owed, and Bruce’s patience reached its breaking point.

“Fine,” Bruce growled. “But you’re staying in the guest room.”

Danny floated down, looking entirely too smug. “Deal. Now, who’s up for pizza? I’m starving.”

[o0kawaii0o]

"Link, you must find me"

!! Spoiler version under cut !!

The Dragon's Tears

[fluffyblue-multifandommess]

"Yagami Light as a youtuber would probably plagiarise" WRONG Yagami Light is insanely intelligent and looks down on literally every single other human person, he would rather stab himself in the eye than using the works of someone else - someone who can't be anything but beneath him. Pre-Death Note youtuber!Light would make long-ass videos about Everything Wrong With Society with completely unhinged takes about how xyz small innocuous thing is responsible for gang violence with numbers* to back it up.

"Light would plagiarise" get the fuck out of here.

*numbers which he completely twists to his own bias - without even knowing it because he thinks way too highly of himself

[reiimorningstar]

2025 amphibia jumpscare (first post!! :3)

[scarfcatblogs]

Boy do I have brain bugs

[drawing-kupfer]

I literally tried animating something for 3 seconds, got frustrated and decided to draw Skizz and Impulse instead

I adore their friendship

[heartless-aro]

People when a character is aromantic or aromantic coded: Wowie! They’re aroACE! Because they aren’t interested in romance! Look at how aroace they are!

People when a character is aroace or aroace coded: Isn’t it cool that this character is asexual? Asexual icon! They’re such great asexual representation :)

[imclou]

can't believe fnaf brought me out of art hibernation man what a turn of events

[thrsiller]

heya people of tumblr! tiktok didnt appreciate this much, so maybe you guys would....??? please...?

its a double layred birdhouse (i think) with two drawers and a few add-ons i made ^_^

(more photos under the cut)

and how i got thw bushes to work ^_^

[tvuniverse]

the eddie kissing buck first propaganda needs to be stopped at all cost ✋I know i know, i'm probably going to be taken out back and shot several times BUT hear me out:

buck needs to get off that squeaky spinning wheel and for that he needs to be the one initiating Something -either love confession or kiss or both i'm not picky- because as my good friend Bobby (#rip) said he's always been the one going with the flow and not knowing how he even got into a relationship in the first place so him breaking that pattern is essential to his own personal growth. he hasn't initiated a first kiss on screen a single time. he's always been either caught by surprise (taylor and tommy), or been asked out on a date without necessarily expecting it (ali and natalia), and even his first date with abby mostly happened because of external pressure (hen and athena cornering them), and she ended up being the one to kiss him first later on.

and for eddie it's the opposite, he's always been the one initating pretty much everything with his love interests: calling shannon in the first place and then kissing her first, asking ana and marisol out on a date. He's always had to make that choice for himself, and buck pretty much jumped any time someone showed interest in him and only started considering his own feelings when things started to get rocky in his relationships. So them actually switching that because buck is that sure of his feelings for the first time, oh that would be so juicy, so good, so delicious.

anyway this is not me starting discourse ❌ because i hate that but just me officially campaigning (at the very last minute) for buck initiating the love confession and/or their first kiss. thank you for your consideration 🙏

[zhelin-thames]

Sixteen Bucks and a Grudge

Inspired by this post

Masterpost

The Batcave descended into silence as the glowing figure hovered ominously, his voice reverberating through the space. Everyone stared at Bruce, whose face remained impassive, though there was a faint twitch in his left eye.

"Bruce," Danny's eldritch voice echoed again, the flickering green light from his form illuminating the cave. "You promised."

Jason was the first to break the silence, biting back a laugh. "Wait, hold up. Bats, you owe this guy—" he gestured at the spectral figure, "—sixteen bucks? And you didn’t pay him back?"

Tim blinked in disbelief. "Sixteen dollars? That’s it? Why not just pay him?"

Bruce’s jaw clenched. "It’s the principle."

"The principle?" Danny’s ethereal voice sharpened. "The principle is that you owe me money. I spotted you when you conveniently ‘forgot’ your wallet on that mission in Prague. Fifteen years, Bruce. Fifteen. Years."

Dick swung down from the obstacle course, landing with a flourish. "Bruce, this is... shocking. You didn’t pay back a friend? A ghostly friend?"

"Former associate," Bruce corrected, standing straighter.

"You don’t even have an excuse," Damian said, crossing his arms. "Father, this is shameful."

Cass, who had been silently observing, tilted her head at Danny and then at Bruce. "Pay him," she signed.

"Thank you!" Danny exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "See? She gets it!"

Steph nudged Duke, grinning. "This is the best thing that’s happened all week. I’m rooting for the glowing guy."

Jason smirked, holstering his guns. "Hey, Phantom—what happens if he doesn’t pay up? Do you haunt him or something?"

Danny’s eyes gleamed mischievously. "I’ve had fifteen years to think about that. Let’s just say Bruce would learn the true meaning of regret."

Bruce let out a long-suffering sigh, finally reaching into a compartment in his utility belt. He produced a crisp twenty-dollar bill and held it out toward Danny.

"Here."

Danny crossed his arms, floating closer but making no move to take it. "Sixteen. Not twenty. I’m not taking tips from someone who stiffed me for a decade and a half."

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, then withdrew a smaller wad of cash and counted out exactly sixteen dollars. He handed it over wordlessly.

Danny plucked the money from Bruce’s hand with a smirk. "Pleasure doing business, old friend."

With that, Danny dissolved back into the glowing green portal, leaving the Batcave in a dim eerie glow for a few moments before it faded entirely.

As silence returned, Jason leaned back, arms crossed, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "So, Bruce, what’s the real story here? Because I need to know why you’d rather let a ghost King hunt you down than pay sixteen dollars."

Bruce turned back to his computer. "Get back to work."

Tim was already typing away. "Oh no, I’m finding the mission logs. There’s no way we’re letting this go."

"Sixteen years of holding a grudge," Dick added, shaking his head. "That guy has serious commitment."

Jason laughed. "Sounds like he’d fit right in."

[koalasmashedoneucalyptus]

This has been sitting in my drafts