#thank you for coming to my sleep deprived TED talk

[90frogsinatrenchcoat]

Minecraft: A short Essay on Nostalgia

I'm writing this rather late at night so excuse any spelling errors (Sorry it's not in MLA format, I'm not back in school yet and need a break)

I often find myself scrolling online late at night, stuck in the rabbit hole of youtube shorts, wondering how in the world I'll be able to function the next morning. Many times, the only thing that puts me to sleep on those restless nights, are playlists of "nostalgic" minecraft music. Why is that? Why is the music considered "nostalgic" in the first place?

Nostalgia is defined as making one think of or long for a familiar or comforting time. When I first received Minecraft back in 2016, I was still a little kid. I was in fourth grade and was longing to know what all the fuss was about. I remember booting it up for the first time, my sister sitting eagerly next to me. We only had one controller, so we had to take turns. In true older sister fashion, I did not share as I was supposed to. Eventually, though, I learned to share the game and enjoy what my sister created. I found that I was a natural at this game, I learned all of the mechanics with ease. My sister was not so lucky, she still struggles to fight in the game to this day. We spent many nights playing Minecraft. My mother worked the night shift at her work, and my father was always working on schoolwork to get his second degree. This left me and my sister to eat our spagettio's and play minecraft all night. I remember one night in particular, playing the "Little Big Planet" Mash up pack for the PS4 Edition of the game. We knew that nothing we did would be saved, but oddly enough we liked it that way. I was usually a creative player and my sister liked survival, though she wasn't very good at it. When we did play on a saved world, we would build massive cities and marveled at our own architectural prowess (Or, more often, the prowess of those we watched on youtube). I still have these old worlds, I visit them from time to time. I used to entice my sister to play with me by telling her I would do whatever she wanted me to in the game. This usually ended badly. Still, there are many old save files titled, "E's the Boss". I was young and simple, a stable built out of pink wool was just fine for me.

As I work with my therapist to uncover certain things about my past, I remember the nights that I would spend playing this game, desperately avoiding my bed time. This game, this simple game comprised of blocks and some funny red powder, had become virtually the only escape I had from the harsh reality that attacked me every time I left that infinite green wasteland that was a superflat world. Long before the aquatic update or the remodeled horses, I was building houses to replicate my own, creating worlds to escape the one that so vehemently tortured me each day. I remember, on the days that we were aloud to have the sound on on the TV, I would always play my favorite music disc. It was the one simply titled C4-18. I have so many memories attached to the music that plays in this game. And the only reason those memories mean so much, is because that is how I coped. Gen-Z, the silent generation, the generation that inherited all of the problems that everyone else was to stubborn to settle, has been left to our own devices to find some way to be happy in a world that revolves around hate. And for many children, including me, that device just so happened to be digital. We found some sliver of hope in the notion that we could still shape out destinies. The thought that we could choose to survive, adventure, or create was so enticing that we put hundreds of hours into buildings and bases, maps and achievements. On the occasions that we couldn't play the game, we would watch others play it. Roleplay channels like Little Kelly and Little Carly, mod channels like Unspeakable and Moose, Pat and Jen, even DanTDM, shaped out childhood. Often these channels exposed us to more mature themes through contact with more mature channels, such as Markiplier, JackSepticEye, and Pewdiepie. Now, we're all grown up. Many of us are going to college, getting jobs, some are even starting families. And so are our heros. Dan is a father, and Felix will be too. Mat has a son and wife, Pat and Jen split up, Jack has Evelyn, Mark has Amy. As we matured, so did our heros. And what does it al come back to?

A simple video game based on mining blocks, and using them to craft different blocks. I guess, what I'm trying to say, is that the Minecraft soundtrack is so nostalgic, because it takes us back to a *bad* time. It reminds us of when everything was going downhill, and all we could do is watch and hope we didn't get hit when crap went flying. Minecraft, for many of us, was our first step into healing, our first step towards maturing, and our first step towards becoming our own people, all be it far to soon. Minecraft music makes us cry, makes us feel this deep nostalgic sadness, because we don't know if we'll be able to find that again. We're grown ups now.. there's no one else to guide us, and video games can only take us so far. How do we know what to trust, what to watch, what to smile and laugh at..

We don't. That's the unfortunate truth of nostalgia. We don't have that wonderful thing, that guide to help us through the tough times. Now we are the ones guiding, building, surviving.. In a weird way, Minecraft prepared an entire generation of struggling kids with a blueprint for life. It's as simple as this:

Start your Journey

Find someplace you like, and settle down there.

Go on adventures, make friends, learn new things, and never go into the dark without a light.

And if it all comes crashing down...

respawn.

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

Addicted to the idea of an ex!convict geto who is on the run. You married him young at the fresh age of 19 in Vegas, only for him to ‘abandon’ your marriage never to be seen again. Nearly 4 years have passed and you’re now a moderately prestigious singer at mafia!gojo’s club, the blue dragon.

audiences stack up on weekends until Satoru introduces you to an associate of his called Kento. He’s tall, handsome, and mature in ways you didn’t know you wanted or needed. After a few visits to the club, he asks you out for dinner. A relationship instantly clicked with the businessman that suddenly everyone knew you were his. Until a mysterious letter appears on your doorstep one day. Attached is a familiar pink ribbon and all black lighter.

“My men wouldn’t do that,” your now boyfriend shakes his head. “No one knows about him but me.”

“Ken, you’re the only one to know about him. No one knows about him except you and Satoru. So please, if this is a prank, tell me.”

“I’m quite offended you think I would casually play with the emotions of the woman I have invested all my time in.” He says, “I’ll go talk to Satoru if he knows anything, but it’s for the best if you cancel tonight’s show.” You pull away from the protective hold he has on your waist and hiss. “I won’t cancel a show. Tonight’s the premiere, a lot of Satoru’s clients have invested thousands in tonight’s event.”

“Cancel it,” your blond partner whispers, “I’ll pay the difference, stay the night at my-“ but your agitated nature makes you turn him down.

“I said no! I’ll continue the show, and you can’t say anything about it. It’s my career, kento. And you can’t decide when to sing for me.”

He should have known it had to do with your hyper independence, your need to still depend on your own income after depending on what Nanami considered a reaction of yours after your relationship with a cowardly no good for nothing scum bag who left his wife.

After his disappearance, search warrants for him went on the national level until his presence was declared inconclusive 3 weeks later. Months later, it was rumored he was found dead.

But no body was found.

Now in tonight’s stage, everyone is dressed in the 9’s, with kento leaning against a wall with crossed arms, looking over the audience as you sing prettily. That is until you see a dark figure, long black hair with a familiar silver wedding band on his fourth finger. What sets him apart is the drink on the table.

Suguru.

(wrote this part one and this part two as a result^)

[crostinibread101]

Hear my out on my weird KAHNREIAH lore

(I’m pretty sure I was very sleep deprived while writing this)

OK SO.

In the drowned tower of the Narzissencruz Ordo, there was a storytelling book? And it mentioned the colors “Gold” and “Red”.

😭😭OK IM SORRY HUT THIS ISNT GONNA BE ACCURATE CUZ I CANT JUST GO BACK TO THE GAME RN CUZ ITS FUCKING COCKBLOCKED BY THE WI-FI

Stupid😒😒

WE ALSO KNOW WHO IS GOLD AND RED????

Rhinedottir: AKA ALBEDOS MOM, AKA GOLD???

And then ARLECCHINO WITH HER CRIMSON MOON🤯🤯 SHE WOULD BE CONSIDERED THE RED OF THE STORY. It’s also confirmed that ARLECCHINO is from kahnreiah because genshin posted an official thing abt her from TWT.

(Ok totLlly off topic but who tf would name their kid FUCKING SNODGRASS???)

Gold in the story was uh.. idk considered the false goal that they were trying to achieve with the dream of kahnreiah or sumthn, while red was the truth of the world or sumthn and it was the true goal of the ppl of kahnreiah to achieve and find out. In the trailer early at the beginning of the game when it first came out, we can see illumine running thru the rubble of kahnreiah with a crimson moon in the background of her.

But anyways, Gold was the false truth that wasn’t supposed to happen I suppose? But it was the truth that the ppl of kahnreiah would believe so they wouldn’t fall into ruin, however they discovered the Red, or real truth, so they were ultimately destroyed. Perhaps they had a person who could see the future or prophesies it through fairy tales.

ITS SUPER INTERESTING THO SO IM TOTALLY INVESTED IN THIS.

😭😭I gotta find more ppl who are also interested in lore abt genshin cuz its lowkey lonely just typing it out and no body reads it

I have no clue where I was headed with this, so if anyone wants to fill in the blanks🙏🏻🙏🏻

[hobiinobs]

I think that we should start calling pterosaurs and dinosaurs, all them fuckers dragons.

Anything ancient and reptilian bitch it's a fucking dragon especially if it flies. Like could it breathe fire... No probably not, but I mean it doesn't need to don't fire shame my dragons they are plenty cool without it.

It's sick as fuck to say "birds evolved from dinosaurs", yknoe what's way fuckin' cooler "birds evolved from dragons"

I haven't slept in 16 hours thank you and good morning.

[machveil]

Most blogs: Simon would have a German Shepherd, or a Doberman, or a Rottweiler or- Me: ...Simon has a Pomeranian, a living puffball that he bought dog stairs for so she can get onto and off the bed without jumping and hurting herself, and he has little socks and jackets for her for when it's wet or cold outside, and she has a vest with a handle on the back of it so when he takes her outside he can also easily pick her up. He loves his tiny dog, and he has a hoodie that has a pet pocket in the front of it so she can curl up inside while he's working at home or laying on the sofa. Thanks for coming to my sleep-deprived TED Talk -🐸

I am a German Shepard believer, but Simon having a Pomeranian is just— [explodes]

Simon Riley walking down the streets of Manchester, big figure, dressed in black, medical mask over his nose and mouth… holding a cute little pink leash for this fur ball. it has the yappiest little bark and fluffy fur. he’s takes better care of this dog than he does himself - groomers appointments are regularly scheduled, vet checkups, the works

you know the ‘scary breeds’ of dogs that people joke about having names like ‘Cupcake’ or ‘Princess’? I’m thinking we’re on the other end here where Simon - straight faced - tells people his cute little Pomeranian’s name is, like, ‘Bear’ or ‘Tank’. all he adds on is, “She’s a tough one.”, even though this little thing could be blown over by a big gust of wind

firm believer in GirlDad!Simon Riley, but since he doesn’t have kids he’ll just heavily pamper this dog. the groomers said that she’d look cute with little dresses or bows and Simon took that as ‘buy your dog cute outfits, please’. she has her own little drawer full of cute accessories and dog clothes. partial to believing he bought the dog little doggie shoes and a rain jacket for bad weather

Simon does have a hoodie with a pet pocket, absolutely loves wearing it with his puppy. but, he isn’t opposed to just carrying her like a football, tucked in the corner of his arm. he definitely bought a stairway for the dog, her little legs can’t get her onto his bed :( not that Simon has trouble picking up this little thing, but she should be able to get up there if she wants to

[brokendoor16]

Okay. So I'm aware that we LOVE love of my life for S3 post-angel depression Crowley, but hear me out. What I actually NEED in S3 is a (ridiculously, impossibly, drunk-to-the-extent-that-would-kill-a-mere-mortal) post-angel depression Crowley doing karaoke to Bohemian Rhapsody. JUST IMAGINE THE FUCKING MOOD SWINGS IN THAT SONG-

As a brief demonstration, I will now pick a lyric from each verse (I'm so sorry guys, this is what happens when I don't sleep so now it's all of your problems):

I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy- delivered in the MOST fucking overdramatic way possible, probably throwing his arms around a looking up (to curse Heaven- AKA try and figure out if Aziraphale's about to watch him embarrass himself again)

Mama, just killed a man- standing up from his chair (this scene is taking place at the closed coffee shop, I've just decided this), with an IMPECCABLE Freddie Mercury impression and kinda staring into Nina's soul (she's both amused and terrified)

I don't wanna die // I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all- slurring his words, slumping back into a chair, sounding utterly depressed and also done with life. Maggie is deeply concerned and trying to count up how much wine he's drank.

Scaramouche, scaramouche, will you do the fandango?- completely manic. At the peak of drunkeness. At some point he has got up on the table and is now pointing at Nina like he's expecting her to actually DO the fucking Fandango (tbh he probably is)

BONUS LINE FROM THE SAME VERSE: Thunderbolts and lightening, very very frightening me- again, peak drunkeness. Slurring his words so hard you can barely tell what he's saying. Stumbling off of the table but still stupidly manic.

Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?- looking up (let's be honest he's probably fallen over and is hauling himself off of the floor) at Maggie and Nina, hammered out of his mind but oddly endearing (according to Maggie, at least. Nina has plenty of words about the whole display and 'endearing' is most DEFINITELY not one of them)

Beezlebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me- practically fucking SCREAMING, barely able to stand up but somehow with an inhuman amount of energy and finding himself the funniest being to ever grace the earth because BEEZLEBUB

So you think you can love me and leave me to die?- suddenly recovering a whole lot of strength. And anger. Standing up, potentially smoking, staring directly upwards and SCREAMING (he's not doing well guys)

Nothing really matters // nothing really matters to me- there's no more energy. He's on the floor and too drunk to get back up. Probably just slumps over clutching a wine bottle (did I mention he's been using it as a mic?) and goes to sleep. Maggie, Nina, and Aziraphale (IF he's watching) and deeply concerned. He wakes up with a banging headache and an intense feeling of embarrassment.

So yes. That was my TED talk on why Crowley should get drunk and sing Bohemian Rhapsody in S3. Thank you for making it to the end of this train wreck, and I sincerely apologise. I'm very sleep deprived.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

i love your works and your toxic könig so much 😭 for some reason in my head könig was always like a puppy in love even outside of aus but i like to imagine him like this sometimes.

basically if he feels abandoned bc you were busy with something else (literally taking a shower for like 10 minutes or not looking at him while he was talking) he will start crying and needs you to kiss him a bunch of times and tell him he's your favourite boy baby husband man boyfriend sweetheart for like an hour lol. he literally can't stand it if he can't touch you or talk to you for long periods of time (let's say the reader is a civilian and könig often has missions he has to leave for). he literally goes insane and keeps rereading those screenshots of loving messages from you he has an entire folder on his phone for, literally he convinced himself that you've already left him for someone else and is now going to be crying himself to sleep.

when he does return he's literally scared, so it feels like you attached him to yourself physically and that's why he never leaves your side. always holding hands, könig always being there even if your have to move around the house a lot or do the most mundane tasks even if he himself has chores or things he needs to do. kind of creepy bc he's just silent but feels like he'll die if you disappear from his line of sight for more than two seconds.

even aside from that listening to you talk fondly of someone, anyone really: a friend (if he lets you have them), a random cashier (if he wasn't there with you to talk to them instead of you), a relative (if he even allows you to talk to your family) he's so!!! like hurt and upset and goes quiet for long periods of time.

like eyes red from crying, nose stuffed and he's like "i'm fine nothing is wrong" then goes back to crying somewhere more private.

and this kind of behaviour makes sex kind of uncomfortable Sometimes. he often needs you to repeat that you're his, only his, you can't look away from him, you HAVE to be holding his hand when he fucks you but somehow it's a 50/50 when it comes to power dynamics.

either he manhandles you and shows you that he's the only man, the only person you could ever need or love and that he won't ever let you leave him; or he's completely subby, like "please hold my face and kiss me while you're riding me for as long as you want, i'm only yours and i wanna show that" kind of way.

i am insane basically thank you for coming to my ted talk.

This was one of the best Ted talks I've ever been to! I loved every word, every second of it!! 🥳🥹 My god, I want more... I need me some encore now.

I love subby König, holy Christ. And tbh... what's beneath the toxic, crazy killing machine König is someone who is horribly, and I mean HORRIBLY love-deprived and touch-starved and super duper insecure. Which means there's bound to be some subby behavior leaking through toxic König too!

König would so need to have you on his sights at all times. And when he's working, it's annoying because... he loves his work but now he's just thinking about you. What are you doing at this very moment..? Have you talked to someone today? A friend, a colleague, a family member? A stranger??

Do you sleep ok without him (because he doesn't, he just tosses and turns in his bunk/cot/the ground all night when you're not there), and why haven't you sent a text today? He's gonna call you as soon as he gets somewhere more private.

The longer the mission lasts, the more sullen and broody he gets. After a few days, he kills his enemies with a thousand yard stare only because they're basically what's between him and his squeeze.

And yes he has to touch you like a thousand times a day or just watch your every move when he finally gets home. If you're in the bathroom too long he comes to knock on the door and ask if everything's alright (you ran there to have a moment's peace from this big cuddly behemoth who looks at you with that creepy batless obsessive stare... frankly it's disturbing)

And oh my god stop – holding hands during sex? Oh my god. Imagine him bordering on being rough (because he's *missed* you goddammit ����) while wanting to entwine your fingers together✨️. Toxic König is a huge romantic, even if the "romantic" things he does are a bit... questionable. And he wouldn't shut up during the first round after he got home!

"Say that you missed me,"

"Tell me you're mine... Say it. Now,"

"You're always teasing me,"

would be some of the things he'd say during pounding you to his heart's content. (And you wouldn't even know how you've "teased" him this time... Like... He's the one who left for a week long mission...? 🤨)

After sex he would be so much gentler, but no less demanding and whiny. He needs so much validation and gets odd and grumpy if you don't give him some. If you'd try to domme him though, he would become even more unbearable (being a sub is this man's secret fantasy but he doesn't even know it himself).

[neon-merrick]

i started thinking too hard about hms again last night (like 6am because what the fuck is sleep) and for some reason i started trying to connect them to the like... hear no evil, speak no evil, see how evil? and then went onto like... blind, deaf, and mute hms...

so. hear me and my 6am sleep deprived brain logic out.

heart is blind (obviously) meaning he can hear what's being said but never has the context of facial expressions or body mannerisms of others. he hears mind say "i hate you" and completely misses the fact that for once he's saying it jokingly.

mind is deaf, unable to hear his own tone, voice, and words, and also unable to do the same with the others. he has to make his own assumptions based on his own logic and the things he can see and feel. after all, logic is subjective and not fact. maybe he doesn't even know that he sounds like a robot, something cold and calculating and callous when he tries to explain his logic and thoughts behind an action.

soul is mute. see, i always saw soul as chonny kinda putting himself or his conscience into the situation like giving himself a seat at this table. yet he is doomed to simply watch in silence as his two sides struggle, never quite able to get through to them. when the three work together soul is able to communicate with mind who is able to think through things and explain it to heart. they work. they make one whole being, one system that works in tandem with eachother.

thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[toffeechad]

✰ BATTLE IN LOBOTOMY CORPORATION: THE TRUMPET OF TWO AU INFO ✰

⚠ TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF DEATH, ALIVEN'T AND ALSO N00SE RELATED IMAGERY INCLUDED. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK. ⚠

Do you want to proceed? (Click the read more block if yes, don't click the read more block if no.)

MAIN INFO

This AU has some parts of LobCorp & BFDI jumbled up together. The Agents get to take part in challenges. If their teams fail, one of the losing team's members get sacrificed to the Unnamed Fetus. You may be wondering, what would the abnormalities look like? Good question. For the abnormalities that have human-like bodies such as The Queen Of Hatred & Laetitia, they'd probably be based off the object that'll fit their design. For the abnormalities related to other categories such as Punishing Bird or CENSORED, they'll remain with the same design.

AGENT & SEPHIRAH INFO + DESIGNS (TW: N00SE INCLUSION ON FLOWER'S DESIGN)

Specifically by pattern, not only the line patterns on the robot are the same as the other, but also the colors are the same as the main color of that character's asset as well.

The sacrifice order of the AU is related to the BFB (presplit & postsplit) elimination order along with the TPOT elimination order.

These drawings were done way before tpot 9 truly came out, don't expect me to update their designs however!

OTHER INFO

SEFIROT BIOS

Loser: He was once a celebrity who was adored by his fans a lot, especially for Cake. He tried his best to aim for the perfect results and never gave up... but what he was trying his best to aim for became a personal obsession of his... it led him to a trap.

Black Hole: He's very strict when it comes to analyzing Abnormalities in the facility. But whenever he sees an employee from another team or his team die by being sacrificed, he gets extremely anxious. He has Thanatophobia.

Book: She's a dictionary trying her best to help out everyone with their problems so that she'd be appreciated. She has a habit of questioning her own sanity. Ever since Taco has been sacrificed, she's willing to befriend Bomby and Nickel during her breaktime in the facility.

Golf Ball: She's a scientist and mechanic who was formerly a responsible leader... but after suppressing the first 38 sacrificed victims together with the other employees, she tried apologizing to Puffball and Fries (with lowered cogito filters)... Yet she wasn't forgiven yet. They just stared at her angrily as if they're both in the brink of mutiny. Therefore, she then feels helpless whenever a trusted teammate of her dies.

Pencil & Match: Pencil's immature, whereas Match is positive at first. Both of them seem to only trust anyone that's affiliated with their alliance or their team.

Leafy: She was once a happy-go-lucky team member... until she was sacrificed. She just wanted to suppress abnormalities for the sake of helping out the facility. Although.... she's taking her duty too far.

Coiny: He's Pin's really sleep-deprived and mature best friend. While drinking his coffee, he mostly pretends to care for the other employees. While he was in his meltdown state, he struggles to control his own mind as if he had a mental breakdown.

Basketball: She's been through numerous agonizing moments ranging from 8-Ball's sacrifice to Robot Flower's memory loss. Someday, she'll find a way to get her back.... She deeply cares for Grassy's safety as well. She's in charge of handling physical materials for the facility. After the aforementioned events, she yearned for Bell to die soon as she'd enjoy seeing her suffer.

Clock: He's calm and collected. He doesn't really think there's a point to bond with Winner anymore. He's now in charge of recording everything that happens in the facility, especially for sacrifices. He has knowledge about time and cycles.

i suck at writing anyways, thank you for coming to my ted talk

[cyathol]

More Rambling

Okay my first and initial reaction to this may or may not have been quite overreactive but I was highly sleep deprived and already pissed off because of a series of other events so that was just like the cherry on top that just ruined my day.

The problem that I have with this is that I feel like it takes away from Miguel's character a lot. Like, not even talking about how problematic the script is and how this encourages people characterizing him the way they do but in general.

Like the butt jokes are even comic canon, but to make it the majority of his character...?

It's just that he's been reduced to sexy vampire Spider-Man that just... there's so much more to his character and it just sucks that most people, writers and fans, seem to be pretty ignorant of that.

I get that ATSV and '92 Miguel are nowhere near the same but the way ATSV Miguel has been handled just doesn't really seem okay to me? Both how he's portrayed and perceived. The straight-up dehumanizing writing in the script, the general sexualisation, the way his character branches off from comic canon in all the wrong ways, the stereotypes he falls into and how the writers straight-up didn't even like him and showed that through their writing?

All these things especially end up impacting his character a lot because of his rather short appearance in Across, like how he's even missing his entire origin-story unlike pretty much every other major character in the movie, which shows how much it impacts his perception by how half of the fans are still convinced he's a vampire.

Conclusion: The way he gets treated doesn't really sit right with me and I hope they can fix that by giving his character more thought and explanation in Beyond and for the love of God please don't reduce his character to whatever this is.

Thanks for coming to my TED-Talk, read his comics if you haven't. They're definitely not perfect but are a great way of actually getting to know his character properly.

[blondiest]

About the, f near m mello, how would mello come to the conclusion that everyone is obsessed with f near?

oh, to be honest i tend to imagine that mello thinks everyone is obsessed w/ near no matter the gender configuration. one of my fav concepts for mello is him like. thinking his experiences are universal / thinking he is So Normal when in fact his experiences are highly unique and he is insane.

so. for example. if matt compliments near's haircut mello pulls him aside afterwards and is like. why would you notice that. why are you flirting with near. do you have a crush on near. okay well riddle me this, mister "doesn't have a crush on near," if you don't have a crush on near then WHY would you notice that. he reacts this way because the haircut means that 20% more of near's neck is visible, and he only got three hours of sleep last night because every time he closed his eyes his brain was like NEAR'S BEAUTIFUL NECK SKIN!!! so matt's comment obviously means that he also is sleep-deprived because of near's beautiful neck skin (it is actually because he was playing gameboy under the covers until 2 AM)

again this happens in m/f, m/m, and f/f configurations alike. thank u for coming to my TED talk

[finleyeatsrocks]

"how did vox wear this" "how did vox wear that"

He doesnt have a neck!!! Hes got no neck!! You see him in so many neck high outfits to hide this!! Hes got a floaty object head, hes a floaty object head !!! He fits these clothes on between his head and body !!!

Thanks for coming to my sleep deprived 6 am ted talk

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

sprinkled moondust

Fic number 11 (and my longest one yet, HOORAY!) @narcosfandomdiscord

Prompt #5, Book Of Negative Spaces: Fanwork using a line from a diff show/movie as a prompt. 

The line in question: "Do you still like my hair?" from The Queen's Gambit 

Word Count: 4.1K (don't ask how I did that)

Relationships: Trent Crimm & Ted Lasso, Trent Crimm/Ted Lasso (very much leaning into that, thank you <33), Trent Crimm & Trent Crimm's Daughter, Ted Lasso & Trent Crimm's Daughter

Warnings: Canon compliant mention + description of a panic attack

A/N: I absolutely adored writing this fic... My first time exploring Tedependent in that 'something more' vein and I took a lot of liberties to what felt right for me! Just wanted to delve into Season 1, considering that I've just finished it <3

The progression in episodes as the snippets go on is as follows:

Episode 1 - Pilot

Episode 3 - Trent Crimm: The Independent

Episode 5 - Tan Lines

Episode 7 - Make Rebecca Great Again

Episode 8 - The Diamond Dogs

Episode 9 - All Apologies / Canon Divergence

~ Read the fic under the cut ~

When Ted first meets Trent, he notices a few things. 

One, he’s a journalist, in a crowd, amongst all the others. 

Two, he’s attentive. That much is clear when they lock eyes, and Trent straightens up, armed and ready for whatever is to come. 

Three, he’s got very nice glasses, two-toned, easily blending in with his face. 

Four, there’s something quite alluring about his hair… 

But if Ted Lasso, the new manager of AFC Richmond, has to give a compliment of any kind, giving it to the glasses is much nicer than to his hair. At least, it makes him seem… More approachable? Less creepy? 

Yeah, that’ll do it. 

He can hardly think of his words since he’s so sleep-deprived, and the cameras flash fast, and the water he drinks is full of fizz (absolutely abhorrent!) and all he wants to do is run. 

But, he can’t run. He can’t hide. 

He’s an American coach of American football, for goodness’ sake! He calls what these folks have ‘soccer’! He refrains from saying that aloud, though, in fear of angering every single journalist present. 

At least Trent Crimm isn’t angry. Rather, he’s just stern, calm, to-the-point, and incredibly good at wounding people with his words. 

Of course, I’m an amateur, Ted thinks, bracing the questions with a smile, ‘Specially with this British football– Thing. Yeah, I might as well just fuck right off, shouldn’t I? 

The manager doesn’t run, thankfully. He doesn’t take the next flight back to Kansas and settle in for the winter. He has to give this a red-hot crack, which is only reinforced when Rebecca Welton covers for him. 

He’ll fit in here, with time. If he keeps telling himself that, then he will. 

Trent Crimm from The Independent makes his blunt comments, but they may as well show belief, show promise. If he can talk to a complete stranger, someone so odd, with such confidence? Maybe he believes in Richmond. 

Maybe Ted Lasso will believe it, thanks to him. 

***

He can’t help but smile. 

Two grown adults in an Indian restaurant, trying to fight out the spice they’re eating. Ted handles it better, or at the very least, it comes across that way. Meanwhile, Trent Crimm from The Independent looks as though he might explode from the heat, pressing his fingers against his temples as though to manipulate it away. 

“How–” Trent practically gasps, quickly sipping his water, “How do you tolerate this?! You said… You said you’d never–” 

“Eaten Indian food?” Ted finishes for him, just to spare him the scattered breaths and unnecessary words. “Yeah, that’s right. But I guess it’s tastier than I thought? Very aromatic, crazy like that… Anyway, it’s more so about my friend’s honour, here.” 

“Honour?” The journalist leans in, brow raised, “Explain that for me.” 

“Maybe I explained it wrong,” He waves a modest hand, “Ollie invited me here, and he got me from the airport to Richmond, so… I couldn’t pass down his family restaurant! Even if it is the most knock-out sorta food I’ve ever tasted!” 

The manager is chuckling, chuckling away as he goes for another spoonful of the dish in front of him. He does it like it’s nothing! Maybe Trent’s spice tolerance is truly awful, and that’s all it is. 

Maybe Ted is just a whole lot braver than he is, willing to do anything if it means being respectful, or optimistic, or fun. It’s certainly an interesting concept, one that Trent will have to keep note on as the night progresses, hell, as the season progresses, more like! 

But he can’t help himself in the way that he notices, tracks the smile that ebbs and flows like the tide. 

“I should go,” He excuses after a while of silence, “Deadlines and all.” 

“Yeah,” Ted replies amiably, “You do what you gotta do, y’know, for work and so on… But– I really enjoyed spending this time with you, Trent.” 

And it’s clear as day, how it shows in the journalist’s face, that expression of bewilderment, disbelief, as though the manager had just insulted his family. 

“You really mean that, don’t you?” He gestures vaguely towards Ted. 

And when he doesn’t respond, simply smiles, smiles so bright, Trent comes up with his own conclusion. 

“Yeah.” He mutters under his breath as he grabs his coat, smoothly shrugging it on as he leaves. 

***

A week or so later, Ted receives a text. He almost wants to shrug it off, thinking it’s Beard with some funny chess joke or strange factoid he’s picked up… But now is not the time. 

Not now, not when he’s just sat down at the Crown and Anchor, Michelle opposite him. 

Mae’s just gone off to get their pints, encouraging Henry to play some darts… He’s off and away, and Ted hears his phone buzz again. 

“Sorry,” He murmurs, “I’ll just see who this is.” 

Michelle only nods, folding her arms in her lap. 

The manager feels himself freeze. No, it’s not some outstanding statement or new recipe from that subscription he’s linked to, no… It’s such a simple thing, such a simple person! 

How could he have expected this?! How could this even happen? Since when? 

Trent Crimm: I nicked your number from Rebecca. Must stay vigilant and all. 

Trent Crimm: Journalism never rests. Feel free to converse as much or as little as you like. 

Ted watches and waits as the grey bubble remains: Goddamn journalist’s typing more! Of course he is! 

Trent Crimm: :) 

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, cracking his own smile. 

Trent Crimm with an emoticon. He thinks, beginning to type a response back, The guy’s outdone himself. 

***

Ted Lasso: Hey, Trent! Good to hear from ya. A little busy now but I’ll get back to you on all the other stuff asap. Looking forward to more chats!  

He finally puts his phone back in his pocket and reaches for his pint. 

“Sorry,” He says again, “Things have been, a little, you know,” He shrugs, “Here, there and everywhere.” 

“No, I get that,” Michelle’s laugh is soft, her finger dragging against the wooden table, “Do they�� I don’t know, do they wrap the fish and chips in newspaper?” She asks, “You must be the expert, now. I just read it somewhere, I think they do that here.” 

He shakes his head, raising the glass to his lips and taking a big gulp, “Not here, they don’t. I mean at this pub, right? Might be different in other places, but, it’s all on a plate. Home-style, y’know? And I like that.” 

“I’m sure you do, Ted,” She admits with a wobble in her voice, grateful for Henry’s reappearance. 

“Whatcha talkin’ about?!” The kid asks, rocking back and forth on his heels. He attempts to withhold the gleeful smile on his face from hitting a regular. 

“Oh, it’s nothing!” His mum says, gesturing to the door, “Shall we go?” 

His dad nods in response, slowly finishing the last of his drink before kneeling down with a smile. 

“You wanna know what we were talkin’ about? Yeah. Just a fun little thing… Imagine you had a doughnut wrapped in newspaper. How cool would that be?” 

“Could I learn about dinosaurs?” Henry asks as Ted stands up again. 

“If they’re in the newspaper, you betcha.” 

The trio walk out in silence and stay in silence, even when Ted parts ways to the place he’s renting out. It’s a wave, a mouthed goodbye, and a punch to the gut. 

His only reprieve is another notification. And that’s even if it’s not Trent. Truth be told, he’d like it to be. 

Well, He rolls his shoulders, eyeing the screen, Isn’t it nice to have expectations line up with reality? 

Trent Crimm: I know we’ve hardly prepared for these communications, and they’ve mostly involved me, prattling on as always. But, I believe I could use a favour from you. 

Ted Lasso: A favour? From me? Trent Crimm The Independent asking me for a favour? 

Ted Lasso: Well I’ll be. Shoot. 

The messages pause, and the manager makes sure to have his eyes partially on the pavement. After all, he’s bound to get lost if he loses focus. 

Trent Crimm: I know that you’ve been making Rebecca’s biscuits. And I was thinking, well, there’s a certain someone I know who’d like your biscuits. If you could make some for a week’s time? She’d like it if you delivered them yourself, too. 

Right. 

That’s new. 

A ‘she’, unspecified, in the journalist’s life. And he’s revealing this now? Ted’s mind runs with thoughts as he turns a corner, thankful to see familiar buildings at his left and right. 

Who’s this? And who am I to judge? I suppose it’s just a little… Don’t know. Someone needing my biscuits, of all things, not a high-five or pep talk… 

Ted Lasso: Curious now. I could make ‘em, since you’ve given me enough warning! Gotta know, though, who’re they for? 

Trent Crimm: … 

Trent Crimm: … 

Ted Lasso: Sorry if that’s too personal. 

Trent Crimm: No, it’s alright. 

Trent Crimm: Well, she’s a three-year-old, so nothing too strong. They’d have to be small as well. Maybe a bit of decoration. 

Trent Crimm: If that’s not too tall of an order. 

The manager’s staring at the screen so long that he nearly bumps into the door of his temporary flat. He takes a step back and pockets his phone, grabbing his keys and heading inside. 

At least he can process this now. At least he can start thinking about recipes for an unspecified girl who’s a three-year-old in Trent’s life. Could be anyone, some kid he’s friends with, it doesn’t really matter. 

It just… Sparks so much curiosity in his brain! Someone as sharp as a whip, someone so breathtakingly brutal, hanging out with children? It doesn’t make sense. 

He sighs and resumes his communications, realising just how nice it is to talk as much or as little as he likes. To not be… Well, trapped, in conversation. Frozen while the other sits, waiting, staring into your eyes– 

His heart grows heavy and yet, his fingers move quickly, vision blurred by sudden tears. 

Ted Lasso: You got it, Trent. 

Ted Lasso: See you in the press room. I bet you’re already cooking up some questions. If not, talk soon! 

Trent leaves him with that stupid emoticon smile. 

Ted thinks about it for a while, shakes his head, and decides it’s best to clean up in the form of a shower. 

***

The coach manages a deep breath, staring at the ceiling. 

Too many thoughts run through his head, and it’s a surprise to him that he’s not physically drowning. 

Panic, panic, panic! It’s the only vocabulary he has, and it’s all– 

Panic attack. Right. Last night, that sums it up, the stifling heat of the karaoke bar, the crowds, the flashing lights, strangled, nausea. 

He made it out just fine, thank goodness for Rebecca Welton. She helped him breathe again, helped him stand up straight, clear out some of the darkness. 

She’s likely in her own room now, doing whatever she likes, while he lies here, thinking of panic, his few-hours-ago divorce, and Sassy Smurf. 

He keeps his eyes on the ceiling, because if he looks at her, he crumbles. 

Oh, and there it is. 

Naked body, frayed hair, slow and steady breathing… He can hear her laugh in his head, he pictures last night, you know, the part of the night after the panic attack… 

And he had fun. She certainly seemed to have fun, gripping a little too tightly at his moustache in the process. 

Guilt gnaws at him, followed by awkwardness, and then, what to do. 

Because it’s not something he’s used to, the simplicity and lack of connection that comes with a one-night stand. So, Ted quickly dresses and calls room service for a coffee. 

Not for his sake, but hers. She’ll appreciate it. 

The hours pass and he’s once again thankful to receive a distraction, also in the form of messages. 

A photo from Beard. The coach has to stifle back a laugh, it’s pretty good. 

Coach Beard: Found him. He’s in Hangover City. 

Of course, how characteristically Nate of Nate to sleep in the bus, awaiting the next day, drunk off his mind, as he would be… 

And that’s when she wakes up. 

He smiles sheepishly as she stretches, head lopsided on the pillow. To him, this whole thing should lead to other things, more dates, and so on… But there’s none of that. Their ties are supposedly severed here. 

“I ordered you a coffee,” He mumbles, “Should be here in a bit.” 

“Oh?” She chuckles, blinking back at him, “How good of you. Before I leave, I’ll order an extra large breakfast on your tab.” 

And that’s Sassy being Sassy, and how can he deny that? 

“Yeah, sounds like a pro move from you… After everything.” 

“Last night was fun.” 

“Yeah! Yeah, it was.” He rubs his moustache, “Five stars. Certified fresh.” 

Right. And that’s the stupidest thing you can say to a girl after you’ve slept with her! 

Good news, she doesn’t seem to mind. Even better news, he’s given her a late checkout, because he’s gotta run, and he’ll run. 

***

He doesn’t talk to Beard for the entire five hours of the bus trip. 

He knows he should, but he’s not in that mood. Mood for not talking? Then something’s wrong. 

Ted just shrugs it off, because he knows exactly what it all is, but is that worth discussion? No. No, it’s not. 

Instead, something else is better. 

Ted Lasso: I don’t just like your glasses, y’know. 

Ted Lasso: It’s also your writing. 

Ted Lasso: And your hair. 

The journalist is probably busy, peak working hours, after all, and the manager doesn’t delete the messages. A part of him thinks it’s from the amalgamation of drunken haze, had a panic attack, slept with a girl he’d just met, followed by the beginnings of divorce. 

The truth to the matter is that Ted is being truthful. Trent’s glasses are pretty, what’s better is his writing, his talent, master strokes (if he can even talk like that anymore), and what follows is his hair. 

Why? Well… It’s just nice. Someone’s hair can be grey and yet colourful, neat and yet messy. It’s as though it characterises him to a T. 

It also looks pretty soft. 

Ted Lasso could use some softness right about now. 

***

He excuses himself from Rebecca’s office, having given her the allotted biscuits for the day. He almost offered the other box, small and brown, to Higgins. 

Not that giving Higgins biscuits is bad. No, he deserves them for all the hard work he’s doing here! 

Those biscuits, however, are reserved for a certain three-year-old, and off he goes. 

Trent’s given an address, because secrecy can only last for so long, and Ted is not intending to drop these off like a postman. 

Especially when he remembers the journalist’s prior wording of things: She’d like it if you delivered them yourself, too. 

He sighs as he approaches the door, ringing the doorbell. There’s a ‘welcome’ doormat at his feet, and everything feels… Peaceful. And if not peaceful, then well-looked after. 

With no immediate response, he rings the doorbell again. He’s in no rush, but maybe the journalist is out and about, and he’s messed the timing of things up, maybe he’s misremembered the day, or something– 

Ted shouldn’t be listening, but being so close to these walls, he listens. 

Trent Crimm. Yes, he’s inside the fucking house. No hiding that. He’s laughing. 

Not just laughing, but repeatedly laughing, giggling, even, and he’s saying things like, “Alright… Let’s think, shall we? Isn’t that too many?” and, “Oh, you… I look like a Barbie doll now.” 

The last thing the coach wants to do is intrude, but he’s leaning against the door… Which is basically him intruding. 

Even worse is that when Trent finally answers the door, Ted falls to the floor, face-first.  

“I’m terribly sorry.” The journalist sighs, that teasing tone of his ever-so present in his voice. But, there’s also sincerity, because he’s outstretching a hand. Ted takes it with gratitude. 

Both of them meet eyes first, before the coach’s eyes very obviously move to… 

“Oh, that,” He waves a hand, “Yeah, that reminds me, Ted. Do you still like my hair?” 

There’s a smile toying on the edge of his face… 

And Ted can practically feel his heart both beating and melting in his chest. 

His hair, yes, that, is scattered with one too many things, so Trent’s words told him: Butterfly clips, bow clips, ribbons of all kinds and colours. Hell, it even looks like the three-year-old has tossed some glitter in there. 

The coach’s smile doesn’t leave him. 

“Yeah, I do, Trent. Work of art. Mind introducing me to the artist?” He says quietly, noticing the girl with an arm wrapped around Trent’s leg. 

He nods and picks the girl up, clearly comfortable with her, if anything. “This–” He brushes her dark blonde hair from her face, “Is Seraphina. My daughter.” 

Biological, or adopted, or otherwise, Ted’s not to pry. But she’s smiley, cheeky, and clearly has a perfect eye for design, and it shows.

“Oh, hey there, Seraphina,” He waves at her, holding the biscuits up and rattling them, “I wonder what these are…” 

The little girl’s eyes widen, and she grins. Trent closes the door behind them all, leading Ted through to the kitchen. 

“Mm, I wonder,” He adds as they reach the kitchen island, and he places his daughter on top of it. “Well, you better show her! Can’t keep her waiting.” 

He places the box down and watches as she looks between him, the box, and her father. And then… Biscuits. 

Round, not his usual rectangular prism, and decorated with icing and sprinkles. Fairly small, but big enough to be broken into pieces. 

“Happy birthday, kiddo.” Ted laughs, pushing the box in her direction. 

“Thank you!” Seraphina’s practically gasping now, tugging at her father’s hand, “Look! The kind man made me biscuits!” “That’s right, sweetheart,” Trent replies, “Go on and try one.” 

“Can’t say I’ve cracked the recipe with these,” Ted’s hands move to his hips, “So judge all you like! I don’t mind.” 

The toddler leans forward and picks up one biscuit in her hand, still grasping the adult’s slightly calloused hand. She’s quite dainty when she eats, Ted notices that much, and it’s oh-so clear where she got that from… 

He can practically pinpoint the moment that the sugar enters her system, that her brain is captivated by the layers of biscuit, icing and sprinkles. 

It’s the starlight in her eyes… More so the sudden widening of them, but the manager wants to feel poetic, to take this at full value. 

“Do you like them?” Trent murmurs, clearly knowing the answer. “Of course, I do!” She mumbles through her mouthful, pausing to swallow before continuing, “They’re… Amazing! So amazing! Can I write about them, dad?” 

That’s when Ted watches the shift, from Seraphina’s starlit eyes to Trent’s, the utter mention of writing leaving him with nothing but pride. 

“Oh, you can, darling… Absolutely. You’ll finish those off later, yeah?” 

“Mmm, wanna write…” Seraphina replies, moving over to place her in the living room. She sits on the floor with her pens and pencils already scattered about, and gets to it. 

That leaves the two adults to talk. 

Ted starts by scratching the back of his head, an overwhelming pride filling him, too, “Goshdarnit,” He sighs, “She is the cutest thing… And the biscuits, too. Such high praise.” 

“Might sneak a taste in, later.” Trent hums, folding his hands behind his back. His expression then changes, folding itself into something… Neutral. It’s more sincere, so the coach thinks. “Thank you for coming here. For not… Backing out. I don’t know what to tell you, Ted. It’s nice to have company, especially on her birthday.” 

He shrugs it off with his usual, “Oh, it’s nothing!” But steps closer to Trent with a laugh, “No, seriously, she is so precious, deserves the bestest birthday, if you ask me.” 

The bestest birthday… The words ring in the journalist’s head, and by the time he finishes thinking about them, he’s wrapped up in a hug. 

A warm, cosy, meaningful hug. 

Trent slowly wraps his arms back around Ted, letting out a hum in acknowledgement. He doesn’t mind how the other is quite a bit taller than him, so he’s sinking into his arms… It’s almost as though he’s being protected. 

Nevertheless, when Ted’s fingers linger near his hair, barely just brushing some strands, he doesn’t feel overwhelmed. Instead, it’s a very careful, very gentle sort of thing. After all, it’s clear as day that the manager likes his hair, no matter what form it takes. 

They stay like that for a long time, especially because, at one point, Ted tightens the hug ever-so slightly, and Trent reciprocates… 

Because nothing is easy in life. 

If the journalist knew any more about his circumstances, well… Then he’d know everything, not just the facade he puts up with every passing day. 

“I needed to get out,” He mumbles, fingers still grazing Trent’s hair, gently tracing over a particular bow clip, “Out of my head, out of that flat, out of my office. I was lucky enough to make it here without gettin’ lost, and confused, and–” 

“Ted.” Trent replies, pulling out of the hug slightly to see his face, to see him opening up, scared, “You’re alright. You’re the most thoughtful, most positive, most persevering person I’ve known. If there’s anything out there, troubling you, which there is… Then I know you’ve got a way to combat it. I’d recommend you take it slow. No point in going fast to reach a poor end.” 

“No point in going fast to reach a poor end…” Ted whispers, cracking a smile now, “I like that one.” 

Trent smiles too, and it’s a smile that reaches his eyes. “I had a strong feeling you would.” 

***

When the football coach leaves, determined to get home and start planning for the final game of the season, Trent reluctantly lets go. 

Of course, he, more than anyone, understands the importance of working… But after all this? 

He could’ve stayed like that forever, and knows that Ted could’ve, too. 

The door closes behind him. 

Trent knows, however, on a happier note, that they’ll text, that they’ll see each other in the press room. Maybe they’ll have coffee out somewhere, or he’ll pop over to Ted’s flat for a favour in return. 

Because… He might just be wanting, seeking something that he doesn’t quite know how to define. 

But, it clearly resides inside Ted Lasso. 

***

“Do you mind sharing with me?” 

There are two biscuits left. 

Seraphina’s pouting, her response of, “Fiiiine, Daddddd…” spewing the same sentiment. 

That sentiment being: They’re my biscuits! Ted gave them to me. It’s my birthday, Dad!!!

But Trent just laughs it off, taking a photo of the biscuit packet first, before eating one of the biscuits. 

Small, round, crumbly, almost shortbread-like, and sweet! 

“Yum…” He ends up saying without realising it, and Seraphina just laughs. 

“You love his biscuits too!” 

“I do.” Trent says once he’s swallowed the mouthful, “God, I really do…” 

He kisses his daughter on the forehead and folds the lid over the biscuit packet, placing the box in the cupboard. Seraphina frowns. 

“We’ll have that one tomorrow, alright?” 

“... Fine, Dad.” 

***

Trent Crimm: Photo Attached

Trent Crimm: These take the cake, Ted, really. 

Trent Crimm: Almost glad we didn’t have cake. Thank you again, for everything. 

Ted Lasso: Damn, you’re welcome!! I should be thanking you, seriously, though. 

Ted Lasso: I know there’s a lot up ahead, but today… 

Ted Lasso: … 

Ted Lasso: It really flipped a certain switch in my brain. Just a little. So good to see a new perspective. 

Trent Crimm: Glad I could help. I mean that, by the way. 

Trent Crimm: … 

Trent Crimm: <3

***

Ted searches up the emoticon at the speed of light. Because it’s not as simple as decoding a smiley or frowny face. 

An analogue heart. 

It makes Ted feel warm and fuzzy. Warm and fuzzy in a way that’s like Christmas, with a fireplace on, and cinnamon, and presents. 

It makes Ted feel… Appreciated. 

Because as much as he tells others he feels the sentiment, it doesn’t always get sent back to him. 

This is heart, literally and metaphorically. This is meaningful. This is caring. 

He takes a deep, slow breath, and lets it go. 

Ted Lasso: Thank you. 

Ted Lasso: Truly. 

Ted Lasso: But I’m gonna go to sleep now. Goodnight, Trent Crimm from The Independent! 

Trent Crimm: Goodnight, Coach Ted Lasso from America.

Ted Lasso: Oh wait

Ted Lasso: One more thing 

Ted Lasso: <3

[half-dead-ham]

GUYS GUYS GUYS

(Tw: talk of sacrifice, death by burning, starvation, and asphyxiation, knives, cults, and skeletons)

Y'know how the Batpham community has made all these great headcanons about the Spirit of Gotham? How she's either this regal heiress from the city's founding or a pretty flapper from the 20's? Well I got some news for you!

Meet Dominique!

I was reading the Batman comics to figure out when Tim came onto the scene (for curiosity) and stumbled onto this dame in issue #454!

Behold, the Spirit of Gotham!

So, for those not interested in reading this lovely little piece, Batman is on the way to stop the Riddler, who has been making Batsy do some weird things for clues; Mouth to mouth on a hanged man, Dancing with a corpse, Dancing in front of a horned goat, to name a few.

And why is he doing this you ask? Why to summon the Demon Barbathos, of course! And the book that good ol' Eddie got has been telling him (yes telling him, the creepy black magic book is telling him that batman is the perfect sacrifice and he's just going with it) that to summon Barbathos he needs a "Human bat", and ofc Bruce fits that pretty damn well.

And then he pulls this out!

He says "the first Bat", as in, someone who has been put through this ritual before. Except, she didn't get to complete the right either (and from what I know about Barbathos, thank the gods for that). Just before the people who were using her to preform the ritual were gonna actually, y'know, they got spooked, sealed the cellar they were doing the ritual in, and moved to Canada.

Leaving her in the cellar to die of either oxygen deprivation or starvation. (There is a panel I the comic for that, but she's nude and I ain't gonna show that here.) And until the Riddler opens that cellar to preform the summoning with Batsy, it was sealed for 200 years (her being in there from 1765, a lot older than that flapper ver of her.)

Now, why do I bring all this up when she's just a memory and a skeleton for the Riddler to base his plans off of? Because she and Bruce talk. And she calls herself the Spirit of Gotham.

She's been trapped in that cellar for 200 years, waiting for Batman to free her from it. And as Riddler sets fore to the warehouse under it she tells him of how she died in there.

Now, all this is really cool in of itself. Batman knows the spirit of Gotham is real, and has talked to her. But the kicker? Bruce feels a kinship with her. When Bruce is seeing these images of her they become real. And the spirit tells batman they are "brother and sister of the bat."

(Also Dominique asks if Bruce's a demon, and I find that just a little funny.)

So they get out with a little help from Alfred, and Bruce is holding Dominique's skeleton. Kinda melancholy way to end. But what does Bruce do to honor this girl and spirit? He puts her next to his parents in their family mausoleum.

And that's pretty sweet, right? Letting her rest with the Wayne's so she could have a proper grave?? But wait, it gets better. Bruce decides to put this on her stone:

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH Holy flying furballs Batman! You just called Dominique your sister! The spirit of Gotham is Bruce's spiritual sister and its confirmed canon! This has so much fukkin potential and we as a community have been sleeping on it!

Just. Please. I need to see Dominique the spirit of Gotham and spiritual aunt to the Batkids in a fic, please!

Thank you for coming to my 1:30 am ted talk.

[macfrog]

The post you reblogged about dog metaphors - tell me why every single one of ‘em is JOELLLL BABYYYY

Dog 1

Dog 2

Dog 3

Probably could have chosen better gifs/moments, but this is what my sleep-deprived brain came up with 😂

This is my hill. I will die here. And if you write anything even remotely close to this into one of your stories, I will rise from the dead only to die again in your writing.

Thank u for coming to my TED talk 🙏🏻

joel as all three dogs was actually not somewhere my mind went with that post but fucking hell you’re right. and the gifs you picked are literally spot on !!?!

this would be such a fun concept to write. i am sort of in love with it. adds to list

[occasionalsnippets]

hello there i have finally slept but woke up at 2;00 am what do i do

warning: rant fuelled by one (1) cup of jasmine tea, Re1999 brainrot, and a weirdly good 5 hours of sleep idek if half of the people on this blog know what Re1999 is

anyways thinking of ReM! MC getting isekai^2 (at least not cubed) into the Reverse 1999 world because. time-reversing storm exists and uhm St. Pavlov Foundation being eerily similar to the SCPF (LITERALLY ONE LETTER OFF)

assuming that MC reverses time when they die, and storm unaffected areas n devices are also unaffected by MCs time-reversing dying (because maybe they work the same way), Timekeeper and her harem the gang would probably detect and think they're a unique arcanist (also thought that they're maybe working or the manus vindictae??) and investigate them despite MC technically being human by blood and they're trying not to die via storm syndrome (i like to think it still affects them because the imagery of MC eating a brick of gold nonchalantly is fun)

MC takes off a Manus Vindictae member's mask (it looks cool) and the member dies (storm is happening rq), MC is like "woopsies"

if MC told Timekeeper the whole dying thing she probs wouldn't bat an eye cuz. arcanists are wild (she's gonna take interest in the way MC affects time because the only thing that reverses time is the Storm so far) (correct me if im wrong cuz i haven't seen the new chapters and event stories since math scares me and wdym there's a whole island of math ppl) maybe the SPF would experiment on them like they did with Timekeeper

MC joins team Timekeeper since free living place and no more eating money and the only thing you have to do is go on missions sometimes

MC offhandedly mentions liking horror once and now Horropedia is zooming down the halls trying to talk to them about FNaF lore (SCOTT CAWTON IS AN ARCANIST AND MADE FNAF BEFORE THE YREAR 1999 TRUST ME) (or the SPF got the internet past the 21st century somehow and he secretly downloaded the games and all the game theories idk, the new event takes place in 2007 so)

Click and MC bonding over experiencing death (+Necrologist for obvious reasons including death)

MC meets the Fool and mentions that he reminds them of someone

thank you for coming to my TED talk. It is 2:47 am here. I will actually go to sleep now

(I've been on this blog for a long, long time now. It's actually the reason I made a Tumblr account. thanks for introducing me to this small community of reader-insert SCP isekai with death-defying powers :D. can I be sleep-deprived anon :3)

Welcome sleep deprived anon :))

Alskjfa idk stuff about reverse 1999 but I might get around to it