richmondsway

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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

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alright ive literally fallen asleep on my keyboard, i'll continue things / reply tomorrow <3

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ÉDGAR RAMÍREZ Wasp Network (2019)

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@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?"

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@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."

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@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."

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@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.

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@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?"

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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.

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like this for a short starter (3-4 lines, won't put out gdocs to spellcheck probably) and please specify muse!

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muse added: gabriel "gabe" doherty, coordinator of west ham's medical team. married to tom doherty (@footballin) and proud dad of shannon (@tarttmum)!

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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

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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. ”

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.

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@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. ”

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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.

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."

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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.

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.  ”

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paddy’s  fingers  busy  themselves  with  fixing  up  his  own  appearance:  adjusting  his  tie,  fussing  over  his  hair,  checking  if  there’s  anything  between  his  teeth.    paddy  had  excused  himself  and  jamie  to  some  half  empty  hallway  as  soon  as  they’d  arrived,  already  fed  up  enough  with  everyone  else  present  to  call  for  a  break.    he  remembers  attending  gatherings  like  these  at  jamie’s  age,  usually  finding  himself  in  the  shadow  of  whichever  teammate  had  taken  enough  pity  in  him  to  invite  him  to  sit  at  their  table.    paddy  had  already  been  quiet  and  off-putting  then,  something  that  strangely  earned  him  the  respect  he  needed  off  the  pitch,  carrying  enough  talent  to  force  talent  on  the  pitch  as  well.    “ i’d  just  growl  at  whoever  started  talking  to  me, ”  paddy  mumbles  as  he  fidgets  with  the  buttons  of  his  blazer.

he  sighs  when  he  casts  another  look  down  the  hallway,  into  the  ballroom  that’s  slowly  but  surely  filling  with  their  teammates,  coaches  and  staff  and  whoever  important  enough  to  be  invited  to…  which  one  is  this  again?    paddy  hadn’t  bothered  to  read  the  invitation  past  the  time  and  location,  had  only  decided  to  come  when  a  decent  amount  of  his  fellow  teammates  had  agreed  to  go    –    jamie  accepting  the  invitation  the  most  deciding  factor  of  all.    “ they  are  our  sponsors,  people  with  big  shares  in  the  club,  anyone  with  any  influence  worth  noting. ”    paddy  takes  a  step  towards  the  ballroom,  deciding  they  both  look  decent  enough  to  be  seen  now.    “ you  ready  for  this,  lad? ”

"I did this every day in the morning for years, every time they needed me at school," Jamie points out. All of the City Academy lads go to the same posh school with the same ugly uniforms. Jamie's used to tying his own ties. But if Paddy wants to tie his, Jamie won't stop him. He runs his tongue over his lips as Paddy inspects him - from anyone else, that might be sexy. But it's Paddy. Jamie's long since trained himself out of finding Paddy O'Gara attractive. "I can tie m'own laces, Pad," he points out, but Paddy's already on the ground to tie them for him. Jamie holds still, fidgeting with the sleeves of his suit jacket, before he forces himself to stop, to shove his hands into his pockets.

He nudges his arm to Paddy's, raising his chin just a little bit. "Who's they?" he asks. He hates these posh events. He became a footballer to play football, not to put on suits for posh fucks who think of him as a name and number, not a person. And his number isn't even a good one - why would they pay any attention to the prick in the 51 kit? Unless these posh fucks are posh fucks looking to buy Jamie away from City, which he absolutely does not want. "How d'you even put up with these things?"