#random roy

[foolsocracy]

put dick on a team and trust he will make sure they can perform as an acrobat troop

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Never not delighted by Jamie’s initial glee at seeing Roy’s gift from Phoebe, because he knows – just as Roy’s sister knows – that Roy is absolutely going to hate that shirt but will have no choice but to wear it anyway, because darling niece.

Only then Phoebe starts to describe the thought behind it and

ooooh

that’s good, that’s some proper fucking gift giving that

this girl is a genius.

[jakascoo]

Roy: I fell— Jason: From heaven? Roy: No, I literally fell— Jason: In love with me the moment you saw me? Roy: MY ARM IS BROKEN! Jason: Okay, but do you think I'm pretty? Be honest.

[marvelling-at-marvel-blog]

I like to imagine that after he retires from football, Dani becomes a match day commentator. Just imagine the pure energy and joy he would bring. I dont think he would be the most insightful, tactiful presenter of the boys from the team who could go on to do this, but he would be the most joyous

It would be the best and most frustrating thing ever. Like the team you loce is down 0-2 and his still so positive. Your lead goal scorer missed the easy goal, but Rojas commentated that his new shoes look amazing and he thinks they bring happiness to the field. He also likes to throw in random facts that he thinks will bring happiness or that someone has told him.

I mean, he chooses this carer because he wants to bring joy and foot all is life.

But there is a rule after the first time that he should not do mexico matches because that brings out a different Dani Rojas and the audiences ears still haven't recovered from the first time.

[hachi8eight]

There is someone I need to protect.

[homoerotikos]

[diana-foggy-master]

𝐒𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝟏

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴏʀ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢ ɪꜰ ᴜ sᴀᴠᴇ

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

more icons from Succession on my Pinterest: HERE

[gothamite-rambler]

Headcanon: I imagine Roy hadn’t thought Jason could shoot anything but a gun and then one day Jason got so mad and casually showed he could.

A goon who works for Black Mask punches Red Hood sending him to the ground. Arsenal looks down at him, aiming his arrow at the goon at the same time. Arsenal: You good? Red Hood: This... was my new helmet. Red Hood takes a deep exhale of frustration. Red Hood: Calm. Stay calm. Arsenal can I use your bow and arrow real quick? Arsenal: You can’t use it as a club mostly because I spent a lot of money on the bow. Red Hood: I won't. May I use it? Arsenal: I will reluctantly hand it to you. Red Hood takes the bow, places the arrow in correctly, aims it at the henchman calf and without missing a beat shoots him in the leg. Henchman: Shit you got me in my good leg! Red Hood: Should've left us alone, asshole! Red Hood hands Arsenal his bow back, runs to the man, grabs the man’s head then knees him twice. He wipes his hands together satisfied with his job well done. Arsenal (looking at his bow): You never said you could shoot an arrow! Red Hood: I was raised and trained by Batman! I learned how to shoot an arrow! Do you want that arrow back by the way? Arsenal: Not sure you can take it- Red Hood yanks the arrow out of the man's wounded leg as the goon screams from the intense pain. Arsenal: And you can do that, glad I can learn new things about you. Red Hood: That's what friendships are for.

[shivroy]

random disorienting succession sketch grab-all and lastly my son keebler elf kendall who i hate

[malamira]

has anyone done enemies to lovers royai but follows canon as in riza and roy still basically grow up together and riza follows him into the military but in the midst of the ishval civil war she can’t continue on as an amestrian soldier so she defects to the side of ishval and becomes the deadliest sniper in history?

she was labeled “atropos,” after one of the fates, the inevitable. nearly every amestrian soldier who crossed her barrel in the midst of battle died nearly after. nearly every single one, because she can’t bring herself to shoot the flame alchemist.

when the war ends riza flees but she’s a wanted criminal. one of the most wanted criminals, for treason, several counts of murder, and a myriad of other charges. she’s been on the run for years, camping out on her own or in ishvalan settlements.

she’s a master in stealth, they said—for years the amestrian military have been on the hunt for one of the most dangerous traitors they’ve ever had, but she always managed to slip through their fingers. all the evidence they manage to collect somehow always goes missing. the people they take in as witnesses suddenly don’t want to talk. the records they manage to pull together conveniently get altered. they say she has a spy in the military, someone with enough power and resources to keep her safe and alive.

roy’s face is blank during meetings.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Roy’s breath catches as he catches sight of them across the pitch, Colin and a dark-haired guy who must be Michael judging by the way Colin’s kissing him, and that’s fucking brave, isn’t it, good lad, but that’s also going to be all over everywhere before the day is out and is Colin ready for—

“Oh,” a familiar voice breathes next to him. Jamie. Of fucking course.

Roy is about to warn him not to be a prick about this – old habits die hard – but before he can say a word, Jamie unexpectedly adds, “Well, that looks proper fun, eh?”

Roy’s eyes snap to him, because: ”What?”

Jamie just shrugs, casual as all hell as he jerks his head towards Colin and his fella. “Just saying, looks like fun, that.”

The look he gives Roy is carefully blank, but there’s a curious glint in his eyes that has Roy suddenly and strangely feeling like he’s gasping for breath, or scrambling for purchase.

What, he wants to demand again, but he doesn’t, not before Jamie breaks into a grin and fucking winks, and then he’s off to crowd Ted with the rest of team, leaving Roy to stare after him with his face inexplicably flushed and his heart beating inexplicably fast.

What the fuck, he thinks. And, … oh. And, huh.

That's going to fucking complicate things.

(It does, a lot. Jamie's right, though, it is fucking fun.)  

[jakascoo]

Jason: I love you. Roy, not paying attention: What was that? Jason: I said I’m selling you to the zOo-

[mjtheg0th]

Silly Draws 👹👍🏻

[cnka]

Bunch of mediocre sketches and wips I won't finish

[muttsupreme]

LIPSTICK ON ROMAAAAANNNNNNNNN

him w this hair in s1……ROMAAAANNNN!!!!! bring back ur s1 hair and my life is yours..

I’ve written so many drafts previously (um obviously not here but privately) about Roman using your lipstick/lipgloss and most frequently, your chapstick.

It starts with him wanting to smell like you; vanilla lip masks that look way too sticky but he tries a little on his fingertip and rubs it on very lightly after you leave your desk. Shiv’s face scrunches up when she sees him with a glossy lip for the first time since she let him borrow her Polly Pocket makeup kit when they were kids (her mom got it for her before it was even released, and assumed she’d be so excited; she was not).

Shiv will make some snide quip, privately for once.

“Uhh, did you…just come back from Sephora, or…?”

“What?” He immediately goes on high-alert, higher defense, and realizes that it must be glossy, the fucking lip mask bullshit that smells like warm vanilla and cookies and tastes like pure sugar when he stupidly licks his lips without thinking (or maybe to hope, y’know, that your spit is in it, so it’s indirect kissing). “Oh - fuck you, do you want chapped, dry, disgusting lips? Because some of us don’t want to look like ogres, Fiona.”

“Hey, I was just asking,” she says in a higher pitch with a dismissive chuckle. She doesn’t mention it again; she recognized the smell, who that smell usually follows. Roman’s wary of her from then on, for weeks.

Next time, he’s going through your bag that you refuse to unpack, because it’s only a weekend trip and then you’re going somewhere else immediately after. Why unpack when you’re gonna repack the next day?

He sees stuff, tons of stuff. Sniffs sweaters when you turn around. He’s got your blanket pulled out already, draped across the bed and him, laying on his side looking at you as you get ready for bed in the ensuite bathroom, door open so he can continue making fun of your regiment and the things you’ve packed.

From your purse nearby, or your makeup bag, he picks up a lipstick (I imagine Diorelita). It opens with a quiet ‘pop’ that you recognize and turn around to see him looking attentively at the color.

“Think it suits me?”

“Mmh, maybe. Wanna see?” You reply with a grin, watching him get a little shy on you.

“C’mere,” you encourage him, sitting on his lap as he leans against the headboard, your lipstick in hand. “Lemme make you pretty.”

He lets you, and you’re shocked he’s staying so still. When you’re done, you snarkily - but entirely jokingly - say, “Now what do we say?”

“Fuck you? Thank you, for…making me pretty,” and he does, he’s very, very pretty with that color on, and you did very well gliding it on evenly. He leans up to kiss you just as you lean down to kiss him; the lipstick smears onto your lips.

“Roro - your lipstick’s getting on me,” you try to rub it off, unsexily. You don’t really have to be sexy around him, it’s one of your favorite things.

“Um, it’s your lipstick, I’m just…temporarily borrowing it,” he huffs defensively. His heart literally does fucking cartwheels when you call him that stupid, almost maternal nickname. “Just come here - shut the fuck up, stop complaining. I’d lick the lipstick off you if you’d just get a little - closer.”

“Aw, romantic boy,” you coo, kissing him sweetly and feeling his tongue stick out, lapping at your lips, making good on his promise like a little puppy. When you’re almost positive he must be done, you pull away, but he’s not having it.

“Whoa - slow your fucking roll, you’re not going anywhere, you look…you look like a clown, lipstick’s still all over everywhere,” he says, trying to get you to come back instead of going back to the bathroom. You’re pretty sure, not positive but willing to bet, that he’s lying and you have no lipstick left anywhere on your face.

“I’ll come back,” you reassure with a whisper; you hate to leave him alone when he’s being so sweet, with such pretty makeup on. “Aww, pretty baby,” you can’t stop yourself from cooing at the unintentionally pouty look on his face, one he’d be humiliated by if he saw. You give him a chaste peck.

“Jesus, give me a second to brush my teeth and pee and I’ll be back. Promise.”

“Yeah, but then you won’t taste like you, you’ll taste like…mint and tap water,” he complains. There’s no pleasing him, other than you being beside him at all times.

Okay whatever that’s just two of my many one billion ideas of Romulus and his obsession with…….indirectly kissing you, being pretty for you, being close to you, and um, your lips in general. I could and might write another little thought-post about his obsession with your lips and stuff, who knows. I’m feeling romantical (‘roman’ being the main part of the word).