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JBB: An Artblog!
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Xuebing Du
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
JVL
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
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@theartofmadeline
Not today Justin
will byers stan first human second
Cosmic Funnies
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❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Jules of Nature
Discoholic 🪩
Claire Keane
Today's Document
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@richmondsway
𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙷𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙳𝚂𝚆𝙰𝚈 ― an independent roleplay blog for multiple characters, loosely based on the ted lasso series. written by naomi (she/her, 27, belgium). low activity & plot heavy. nsfw & triggering themes present, must be 18+ to interact. follows back from @moedich3.
links: google doc / starter calls / writing prompts
gabe loves his husband sm he will show anyone at wh willing to see the most mundane domestic photos of tom you've ever seen and gushes over them
alright ive literally fallen asleep on my keyboard, i'll continue things / reply tomorrow <3
ÉDGAR RAMÍREZ Wasp Network (2019)
@premleague ( ducky ) , starter call .
"callum!" gabe rises from his office chair, taking it with him as he gestures at the chair opposite of his desk. he takes a seat next to the young man, the backrest of his office chair pressed against his chest. "how are you doing? you adjusting well?"
@footballin ( billie ) , starter call .
there are days when stephan's hauntings are relentless. ricky already looks exhausted by lunch, picking at her sandwich as she wonders if he's ever seen inside of richmond's staff cafeteria. he'd probably have some dumb fact about it too, like... "hey!" ricky calls out -- even in grief, nothing escapes her. "no running in the cafeteria, carney. i won't pick you off the floor if you fall."
@footballin ( tom ) , starter call .
they're often like this, thomas displaying one of his softer sides as gabriel watches, arms crossed above his chest and the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. he breathes out loudly and shakes his head when he catches his husband looking at him. "i haven't said anything."
@richmnd ( sinéad ) , starter call .
he's finally been able to get aodhán to fall asleep. their youngest is rocked back and forth steadily on paddy's chest. his hand ever so slowly travels underneath the blanket he and sinéad are sharing, fingers drawing lazy circles on her knee. "how's the headache?" his words are bit a whisper, the faintest summer breeze, but they'd never needed much words to understand one another.
@richmnd ( liv ) , starter call .
bianca has wiped down her countertops three times now and still not a word had been said. she sighs as she leans against it, dishtowel still in hand, as she gives liv an up and down look. "come on then", bianca starts, "what's got your panties so twisted up?"
i have to warn you all i am so tired, i will make typos/misspell things so just a small head's up! writing up those starters rn.
like this for a short starter (3-4 lines, won't put out gdocs to spellcheck probably) and please specify muse!
muse added: gabriel "gabe" doherty, coordinator of west ham's medical team. married to tom doherty (@footballin) and proud dad of shannon (@tarttmum)!
please reblog this post if you play a character within or based off of the téd låsso universe. please specify in the tags which characters you play and if they are canon or original
Okay, so maybe that wasn't the right thing to say. It wasn't that Jamie's memory was bad, per se, it was just that his mouth ran and ran and ran more than his legs did, sometimes - how was he supposed to be expected to remember everything that he said? "I don't 'ave memory loss," he insists, clasping his hands together between his legs. "I just talk a lot. Say a lotta stuff I don't remember sayin'." He did have a lot of head trauma as an adolescent, but that was when he was, like, ten to... well, twenty-two, and he's an adult now, and the only head trauma he's got now is the normal footballer sort - taking headers. And if Dani and Sam and Bumber and Richard don't have head trauma, neither does Jamie.
ricky sighs, turning to him with a look on her face that balances between annoyed and… worried? the frown on her face is so familiar to most players that it’s nuances get lost sometimes; she always managed to hide her concern behind witty remarks, stern directions to be followed set down with professionalism. ricky shakes her head as she puts the bucket down, makes her way to the towel rack and goes over to hand him one. “ oh, that actually sounds a whole lot more like you, ” ricky says as she sits down next to him, “ i’m still adding the test to take a piss at roy. ”
@parker66 says , “ no one’s ever actually just . . . sat down and listened to me . ”
“ well, you’re one of the tough ones, kid. people often forget to check in with the tough ones. ” bianca gently nudges tanya with her shoulder, the expression on her face weary and concerned. she’d noticed the heavy weight on tanya’s shoulders the moment she’d laid eyes on her, but also knew that tanya would never let her see if bianca had just asked. so the chef had wooed the young woman with chicken soup, homemade candies and even a whole meal inspired by whatever shit nandos would serve. “ you know you’re always welcome in my kitchen, yes? i cook and you talk. ”
Jamie's unused to people caring about him. Obviously, Georgie would give him the world if she could. And he thinks that Simon likes him, because he doesn't think there's anyone in the world Simon dislikes. And he's got friends from the estate, but they're all so busy with their lives that he doesn't think he takes priority in any of them. So he calls Paddy, who has proven time and again that Jamie matters to him, beyond how skilled Jamie may be on the pitch, beyond his playing time, his statistics, everything that everyone his dad has ever cared about. After an encounter with James - because of course Jamie allowed him access to the penthouse, he really didn't want James starting shit with his doormen causing Jamie to get in trouble with the building - the only person he could think to turn to is Paddy. Paddy, who understands the game more than Georgie does. Paddy, who says things like twenty minutes is a lot when you've got something to show, which brings tears to Jamie's eyes.
He scrubs a hand over his face, trying to breathe normally. He's sore. Paddy keeps lathering praise on him - we both know you need less than that. He's right. Jamie can show his skill in just a handful of minutes. Five, ten, even. He knows twenty minutes is an exaggeration for what he might get tomorrow, but it's a decent assumption, in his mind. "Y'can't tell me t'fuck off..." he mumbles - if there's one thing he's certain of, it's that Paddy O'Gara's stupid fond of him. Key term stupid. Jamie presses his forehead to his knees, rubbing his hand over his jaw. He's not going to be visibly bruised in the crowd's eyes tomorrow, but under his kit he will. Nobody'll say anything, and things'll continue on as normal, but Paddy'll know. "No, you're going back to sleep." He tries to speak as sternly as possible. Jamie doesn't know if he'll get any sleep at all tonight, but he can't keep Paddy up all night. Paddy's in tomorrow's XI for sure. There hasn't been a game that's mattered in Jamie's fucking tenure in which Paddy was excluded from the XI. He needs sleep. "I'll let you paint m'toenails in the morning, old man."
paddy cannot help but chuckle. “ almost spoken like a true captain, jamie. i nearly considered listening to you. de villardi would be jealous. ” he couldn’t really help the taunt; not including it might make this whole thing heavier for the both of them than it needed to be. paddy knows – although he’s got no idea what happened, he knows why jamie calls him this late at night, knows he’s on his way to offer comfort and try not to grind his teeth if he winces if paddy’s protective nature holds him a little to tight. ( for a moment he considers them in the dressing room tomorrow, bruises blooming on the kid’s skin, and paddy doesn’t know if he should ram his fist on his steering wheel or cry. ) his chuckle’s disappeared, the car rides to jamie always carrying an air of instability, but paddy doesn’t allow his voice to quiver when he speaks again. “ y’know i don’t need to be awake for you to paint my toenails. maybe you could surprise me with your color scheme. ”
his foot itches on the gas padel, eager to rise above the speed limit so that he could make it to jamie a little quicker. there’s always a sense of urgency surrounding these calls, one that paddy cannot quite explain. maybe it’s the tone of jamie’s voice, which he – to his credit – manages to hold, but of course paddy knows jamie enough to recognize all the nuances within it, when it comes from a place so small and frightened it’s a miracle he’s scraped up enough courage to call paddy up in the first place. maybe it’s just the amalgamation of circumstance; their game against tottenham tomorrow, nearing the end of the season, the late hour on which jamie’s called. maybe it’s just because paddy loves him and cannot bear the idea of jamie all alone, facing whatever shite thrown at him by himself. “ you hanging in there, lad? i’ll be with you in a few seconds. ” perhaps paddy’s saying it for his own sake as well as jamie’s.
sinéad fucking hates crying and yet she can’t stop herself from sniffling. these pregnancy hormones rocked her emotionally like a ship in a storm, and even the smallest of things can set her off at any moment — yesterday she had cried watching their daughters play together in the garden, éire and teagan sprinting around on the grass pretending to be space explorers or something even as it started to lightly rain, her mind wondering how that dynamic might shift with the addition of a new sibling. she knew how volatile that relationship could be at the best of times, even with the mcloughlin siblings being closer now as all became adults that no longer had to live inside the same household together. she could only hope, say a little prayer to saint joseph, and wait.
paddy is looking at her right now like she’s his whole fucking world again — so how is she not meant to shed a few tears as her frustration over her name being yet again dragged through the mud clashes with her neverending love for him. “ yeah, probably f’the best if you don’t read it right now, actually, else somebody might lose their teeth or somethin’. ” at least she’s able to joke a little, tease her husband for his defensiveness, even through her light tears, watching and smiling fondly at his constant little display of love as he kisses her wedding ring. in turn, she leans up to leave a kiss of her own. “ breakfast sounds great right now, ” though she knows she probably looks an absolute state right now, and with the alluring promise of some home-cooked food from him, she wants to try and continue this day onto a better path than it had begun on, “ —but can y’help me get dressed first, and brush my hair? i swear, love, i was never feelin' this fuckin’ tired when we had the girls. ”
he manages to chuckle alongside her, smiles into the kiss she gives him. his arms slide around her frame, protective and loving, one hand sliding to her belly when he feels it bump against him. despite all the heavy emotions involved – concern, frustration, which more often than not turns into anger – paddy cannot help but lean into his love, his gratitude to having build this family with sinéad. there’d been a time when he’d almost accepted that his life in manchester would be that of a lonely man, a lone wolf amongst other legends on the pitch. yet now his house is filled with laughter, he’s learned how to make his own honey pops and the love of his life remains by his side. he leans in and plants another kiss against sinéad’s forehead, nodding at her words.
his hand makes its way from her belly to gently take her hand, guiding her into the bathroom. paddy sits her down at the edge of the tub, on his knees as he turns on the faucet and checks the temperature of the water. she hadn’t asked for him to draw a bath, but he wouldn’t be paddy o’gara if he didn’t add in that little extra for the person he loves the most. he presses a kiss against her knee before getting on his feet again, his fingers hooking at the hem of her t-shirt to take it off. “ i might need to go check on the girls in a minute ” , he says, his voice soft spoken; a privilege only reserved for the o’gara household and any who belongs to it, “ but i’ll be back to come help you out, alright, darling? ” he speaks as he fills the bath with her favorite scents, goes through the effort of putting on a few candles despite the morning sun already reaching for the sky.
