#or enemies if you squint

[wisteriagoesvroom]

playing pinterest roulette and seeing what AUs i can make up based on the pics (part 4 of ???)

Pierresteban secret service AU.

Agents Gasly and Ocon stalk down a hallway, ringed by halos of fluorescent light. They've just been reamed out by their Director for a particularly messy extraction - the target had survived, but created a huge ruckus on the way out, costing the agency additional fees in bribes and hush money to not cause a fuss.

Back at HQ, the agents walk with determination, not looking at each other. Somehow it always turns into a race, the two of them zooming down the stretch of hallway even though there isn't a prize, except maybe two seconds of satisfaction and bragging rights.

Neither is sure when this discord had truly started. They'd been close growing up, challenging each other at every Boy Scout exercise. Pushing with every additional mile, extending every pushup once they’d been to military school. They'd come up through the ranks, two French cadets, then recruited by the French security forces. Several swings and roundabouts later, they've finally ended up at the elite wing of the DGSE.

(Ocon had been the one to arrive first, handling missions just fine, if a little inconsistent in his approach. Gasly had been on a sensitive joint project with MI6 until they unceremoniously kicked him out. The first day that Gasly was returned and was introduced as Ocon’s new partner, Ocon had laughed in the Director's face, only to realise that the woman wasn't kidding.)

They arrive at the set of double doors that will lead them to the offices. Neither had won their little race this time, both of them touching the metal door handle first. They stand there, neither giving way. Ocon rolls his eyes and lets Gasly through.

"The meeting went well." Ocon says.

The other man pins him with a stare. "It was a complete disaster."

"I know. I was joking. Did you know that sometimes I can make such jokes? You'd think it impossible, no?"

"I don't think the Director found the bill to be especially funny."

"Come on Gasly. We got the job done. Surely it must count for something."

"Certainly it would be easier if you wouldn't spend every mission crashing into things."

Ocon touches a hand to his chest, mock affronted. "That wasn't a crash. That was merely statement of intent for any unfortunate pursuers."

"Whatever."

They stop at the lockers to drop their stuff. For a while it's just the clicks of them unloading their belts, their hardware. The sounds of them peeling off their agency identities, the work, the day. Even if they couldn’t, and wouldn’t ever, really be able to shake this place.

“Humour me." Ocon says, staring at the bowels of his locker. "Really. Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you.” Gasly says, unbuckling his holster. Before turning his aquamarine gaze to Ocon. Eyes always sharp and knowing. “That would mean I would have once had to respect you."

[doydoune]

names names names (3-4/4)

(1-2/4)

bonus

[kleinnsed]

Royal wxs au where they all fight for the magic crown and eventually learn what they really want!!! each other!!

[honeyhobbs]

I know tumblr kinda sucks for video posts but please take my humble offering since I haven't finished any new gaz drawings 🙏

[nellasbookplanet]

The three tiers of queer sff:

Broke: what is worldbuilding? Made in a lab to be as blandly inoffensive as possible. Time to randomly namedrope terms like 'nonbinary' and 'ace' while doing zero work actually incorporating them into the world or characters and have someone give a speech about how valid they are. Lines like 'I'm too ace for this' while never exploring the concept of asexuality or aromanticism and still having very central romance plotlines is common. I hate it here learn how to write realistic dialogue and fully realized characters I'm begging.

Woke: more ore less typical sci-fi and fantasy but It’s Queer Now. Might include in-universe queerphobia to be struggled against or may have queer identities be fully normalized. Can be done bad or well depending on the skill of the writer. A good way to explore our contemporary ideas of gender and sexuality or to have a bit of a power fantasy with lesbian princesses and trans knights. There will probably be a bisexual love triangle.

Bespoke: what is a gender. What is monogamy. What is polyamory. What is romance. What is platonic. Time to show you the most fucked up uncategorizable relationship you’ve ever seen. There may be weird ass metaphorical sex

[bear-tr4p]

cant get over the gay little sparkle in strahms eyes whenever hes talking about hoffman…

[julissart]

Interrupted ‼️💢

You can connect this with my doodle comic about Kidsopp as a ship, once again featuring a posse-ahem protective frie- captain 😌

My OP Fanart Masterlist 2025

[dclovesdanny]

Musicals ships

Epic the musical x Everlasting Insomniacs

Tim, while infiltrating Amity Park, was enrolled in the local high school along with Steph. Steph signed them up for the musical the school would be performing.

Tucker wasn’t going to sign up for the musical until he realized it was going to be Epic the Musical, one of his favorites. So, he dragged both Sam and Danny along with to audition. He even bargained with Sam, swearing to eat vegetarian with her for a week (His sweet, sweet barbecue would have to wait.)

So they all auditioned.

Sam got the part of Athena (a part she never realized she would relate so much to.)

Tucker got the part of Eurylocus (which may have exacerbated some of his fears of succumbing to his own insecurities and risk his friends lives.)

Steph got the part of Hermes (which she adores) and an extra crew member who dies to Polyphemus (which she is mostly ambivalent to, but loves the chance to watch the drama)

And Danny and Tim? They got the main couple, with Tim being cast as Odysseus and Danny as Penelope.

The issue?

Sam doesn’t trust Tim because she recognizes him from some galas, Tucker is struggling with his sexuality because Danny was always cute but now Sam and the new guy are flustering him??!? And Danny is just a flustered mess until he gets on stage.

Steph and Valerie (who is playing the roles of Circe and an extra suitor without lines) have made it their personal mission to get these four idiots together.

[alex-finechi-is-back]

Also I’ve been fucking going nuts with thinking about how PV would try to win black sapphire over cause mf legit might as well go for the whole pack.

And it ending up with black sapphire getting sloppy drunk off of juice to the point he starts to angrily tell off PV about how fucking dare he go on and on and on and on about knowing shadow milk cookie when he hadn’t nearly been as close in the same span as sapphire.

“H-how fucking dare you, how god-damn dare- you! Coming in- and- and fucking saying you know him?! HOW! How could you POSSIBLY know, oh because your souls touched?? FUCK YOU that was one goddamn time!”

PV almost wanting to pull back but then he sees the tears in black sapphires eyes. How wide and full of not just anger but fear they are.

And what kinda of fear is that? It’s the fear of losing the one person he’s dedicated his life to. The one mf he’s held on the loneliest, bleakest nights, holding his head in his lap and combing his fingers through the beasts hair time after time after time.

It’s the fear that even after all the highs and low, that pure vanilla could just walk right in here and take away everything - the fear that one day shadow milk will not look his way ever again, that he will never have a night like that ever again in his life cause PV took it all away in the hope of a ‘better tomorrow’.

And so PV just holds him, holds him wrapped in his arms tight even as the radio host claws at his body like a feral cat before he just starts to drunkenly cry into the healers robes cause he’s finally processing everything happening and it hits him like a truck.

And god does he just want shadow milk not to leave him.

[jamal127]

Something in the rain

Gojo x reader, academic rivals

Word count: 2.2k

Authors note: Based on this request! Not proofread

In a bustling street corner of Tokyo, a young woman named Y/N sat at a small, weathered café, sipping her hot matcha latte. Her eyes were fixed on the pedestrians passing by, each one a story waiting to unfold. She had always loved people-watching, finding comfort in the anonymity and predictability of the city life. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted from the next-door bakery, mixing with the aroma of sizzling yakisoba from the food cart across the street. A soft breeze played with her hair, hinting at the approaching spring.

Y/N was an ambitious academic, her nose always buried in a book or her laptop. Her field of expertise was the psychology of human relationships, specifically the complex dance of attraction and repulsion that often existed between rivals. Little did she know that the very subject of her latest paper would soon walk into her life in the form of Gojo Satoru, a fellow scholar and her new neighbor.

Their first encounter was less than ideal. Gojo, with his piercing blue eyes and unruly white hair, sailed through the café door like he owned the place. His tall, lanky frame was a stark contrast to the cozy, intimate setting, and his arrogant demeanor was palpable. He scanned the room, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a brief second before dismissing her and claiming the table next to hers. She felt a twinge of annoyance at his presumptuousness but tried to focus on her work.

As she typed away on her laptop, the sound of his voice grew louder. He was speaking to the barista, a young girl who looked visibly intimidated by his overbearing presence. He was arguing about the specific temperature at which his coffee should be served, his voice carrying an undertone of condescension. Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes and sigh, her fingers pausing mid-sentence. She had always found it fascinating how certain people could command a room without even trying.

Their eyes met again as he settled into his chair, and she felt a strange mix of irritation and intrigue. He took a sip of his coffee, grimacing at the taste before slamming it down on the table. She couldn't resist the urge to smirk at his dramatic display. "Your coffee not to your liking?" she quipped, her voice a sweet blend of curiosity and sarcasm.

Gojo looked up, his eyes narrowing at her. "It's lukewarm," he grumbled, not bothering to hide his disdain.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh lightly. "Maybe you should've specified that when you ordered?" she suggested, her voice teasing.

Gojo's eyes flashed with something akin to surprise before a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Maybe I should've," he conceded, his voice smooth as silk. "But where's the fun in that?"

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Their rivalry began in earnest at a local academic symposium, where both had been invited to present their research. Y/N had spent weeks preparing a paper on the psychological underpinnings of rivalry and its effect on collaboration. Gojo, on the other hand, was known for his cutting-edge work on the cognitive patterns of the elite. As they took the stage, the tension between them was palpable, a silent challenge that electrified the air.

Their presentations were flawless, meticulously crafted to showcase their intellect and prowess in their respective fields. As they stepped down from the podium, the room buzzed with anticipation for the Q&A session. The first question directed at Y/N was about the potential for growth within a competitive framework, and she delivered a well-reasoned response. Her eyes flicked over to Gojo as she emphasized the need for mutual respect and understanding.

Next, Gojo was asked a question about the limitations of his research. Without missing a beat, he acknowledged the criticisms and presented a compelling rebuttal that had the audience nodding in agreement. Yet, as he spoke, his gaze remained on Y/N, a silent challenge in his eyes. When it was her turn to ask a question, she stood and approached the microphone, her heart racing. She knew this was the moment to establish her dominance.

"Your work on cognitive patterns is fascinating, Gojo-san," she began, her tone cool and composed. "However, I can't help but wonder if there's not a darker side to such intense focus on individual superiority. Does it not risk stifling creativity and collaboration?"

Gojo leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening into a full-fledged smile. "Ah, Y/N-san," he drawled, using her surname in a deliberate power play. "Always eager to dissect the human psyche, aren't we?" He took a moment to gather his thoughts before delivering his response with the grace of a seasoned debater. "While I appreciate your concern for the collective, my research suggests that true innovation often arises from a clash of ideas between equally matched adversaries. The drive to outperform can be a catalyst for growth."

The crowd murmured, clearly torn between the two academics' differing viewpoints. Y/N felt a spark of frustration but knew she had to keep her cool. She took a deep breath and stepped up to the podium once more. "And what of the emotional toll such a cutthroat environment can take?" she asked, her voice steady. "How does that affect the individuals involved?"

Gojo's smile didn't waver. "Emotions are merely data points in the grand scheme of things," he said dismissively. "They can be managed, just like any other aspect of the human condition."

Y/N felt a surge of indignation at his cold analysis of human feelings. She knew firsthand the pain that could come from academic rivalry, having sacrificed much of her personal life for her career. "Data points?" she echoed, her voice rising slightly. "You're speaking as if people are nothing but numbers on a page!"

The room grew quiet, the tension thickening. Gojo's smile remained, but there was a glint in his eye that suggested he was enjoying the intellectual sparring as much as she was. "Aren't we all just complex algorithms, Y/N-san?" he countered, leaning forward in his chair. "Our emotions, our choices, all of it can be broken down and understood if we're willing to look closely enough."

Y/N's eyes narrowed. "And what happens when those algorithms malfunction? When the desire to win overpowers the pursuit of knowledge?" she shot back.

Gojo's smile grew into a full-blown grin, revealing a set of perfectly straight teeth. "Ah, but that's the beauty of it," he said, his voice low and mesmerizing. "It's when we're pushed to our limits that we discover what we're truly capable of. Without challenge, we stagnate."

Their verbal sparring continued, with each point met with a counterpoint and each question answered sharply and insightfully. The audience watched on, captivated by their dynamic. As the session came to an end, the thunderous applause was a clear indication that they had stolen the show.

After the symposium, they found themselves unable to avoid each other. Their paths crossed in libraries, at academic socials, and even in the quiet corners of the university where they often sought solace. With each encounter, the rivalry grew stronger, their banter more heated, and the lines between professional competition and personal attraction began to blur.

One rainy afternoon, Y/N stumbled into Gojo's office, seeking refuge from the storm. She was soaked to the bone, her hair plastered against her face, and her glasses foggy with condensation. Without looking up from his paperwork, Gojo gestured to a chair across from his desk. "Take a seat," he said curtly. "You're dripping everywhere."

Y/N complied, shivering slightly as the cold air of his office hit her damp clothes. She watched as he neatly arranged his notes, his hands precise and methodical. "Thanks," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

Gojo looked up, his expression unreadable. "For what?"

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "For not letting me drown in my own pride," she replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

Gojo's eyes flicked up to meet hers, a glimmer of amusement in his gaze. "You're quite welcome," he said, his tone dry. He paused in his work, his eyes lingering on her. "But don't get too comfortable. I don't tolerate distractions for long."

Y/N leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, I'll be quick," she said, her voice a little steadier now. "I just wanted to thank you for not letting me embarrass myself at the symposium. I know we disagree, but I respect your work."

Gojo studied her for a moment before his gaze softened slightly. "Your paper was intriguing," he admitted, his tone less confrontational. "It's not often someone challenges me in such a... compelling way."

The air between them shifted, the tension of their rivalry giving way to something more nuanced. Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest. "I didn't mean to challenge you," she said. "I just wanted to understand."

Gojo leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Understanding is the key to all things, isn't it?" he mused. "But sometimes, it's the journey to that understanding that reveals more than the destination."

The rain pattered against the window, casting a soft glow into the room. Y/N felt a strange sense of peace in the middle of their usual battleground. "What's your story, Gojo-san?" she asked, the formality of their rivalry slipping away.

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flashing across his face. "My story?" He paused, considering his words. "It's a tale of ambition, much like yours, I suspect."

Y/N nodded, curiosity piqued. "You're right, I am ambitious," she admitted. "But what drives yours? What makes you so... intense?"

Gojo leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath him. "Intense?" He repeated the word as if tasting it. "I suppose it's the pursuit of the untouchable. The thrill of unlocking the human mind's secrets before they're lost to time." His eyes took on a distant look, reflecting a passion that burned brighter than the neon lights outside.

"But that's not all of it, is it?" Y/N pressed, her voice gentle. She had a knack for drawing people out of their shells, for finding the humanity beneath the intellectual armor.

He sighed, his gaze returning to hers. "No, it's not." For the first time since their rivalry had begun, Gojo's guard slipped. "My family... they've always been the most brilliant minds in the academic world. The pressure to live up to their legacy is immense. It's like I'm fighting against the very fabric of who I am, trying to carve my own path while carrying the weight of their expectations."

Y/N felt a pang of empathy. She knew all too well the burden of living up to the shadows of greatness. "That's a heavy load to bear," she said softly. "But you're doing it. You're making a name for yourself."

Gojo's gaze remained fixed on hers, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. "It's never enough," he murmured. "There's always someone ready to knock me down, to prove that I'm not as great as everyone seems to think."

Y/N leaned forward, her own burdens momentarily forgotten. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone," she said firmly. "Your work speaks for itself. You're brilliant, Gojo-san."

He gave a wry smile. "And you're not so bad yourself, Y/N-san."

The rain had slowed to a gentle patter, and the room was filled with the sweet sound of silence. They sat there, neither one willing to be the first to break the spell. The air was thick with something new, something unspoken as if their rivalry had been a dance and they had just discovered a shared rhythm.

Gojo took a deep breath and stood, walking over to the small bookshelf by the window. He pulled out a book titled "The Psychology of Rivalry and Its Impact on Human Behavior." Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she realized it was one of her earlier works. "You've read this?" she asked her voice a mix of surprise and pride.

He nodded, turning the pages idly. "I have," he said. "Your theories are... intriguing. But I have to admit, I never thought I'd see you in the flesh."

Y/N felt a blush creep up her neck. "You've read my work?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

Gojo nodded, his eyes never leaving the book. "I have a... keen interest in understanding my adversaries," he said, his tone teasing. "And you, Y/N-san, are quite the formidable adversary."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at that. "Is that what you call it?" she teased. "Adversaries who share an umbrella and discuss philosophy in the rain?"

Gojo looked up from the book, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. "Well, when you put it that way..." He trailed off, his gaze lingering on her. "Perhaps we're not as different as we thought."

The rain had almost stopped, leaving a gentle hush in the air. Y/N stood, feeling the weight of their conversation settle in her chest. "Maybe we're not," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe we're just two people who found themselves on the same stormy path."

Gojo looked up, his eyes searching hers. "Perhaps we should walk that path together," he suggested, a tentative note in his voice. "Collaborate, instead of compete."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. The idea of joining forces with Gojo was both thrilling and terrifying. "I... I think that could be interesting," she said, her voice wavering slightly.

©jamal127 ✧ all rights served. || 2025  (≖ᴗ≖✿)

@gojobiggestslut

[pistachi0art]

Caught that seal that was stealing fish- 🦭

[kenozumin]

i so desperately need ash to log into the realm and lock in on lore because he would compliment ace so, so well in his goal, it's insane.

like, ash has already implied that his memories were not just lost, but specifically wiped or taken away from him and the last time he talked with ace, he directly implied to ace that there may be some greater entity beyond their comprehension that binds the two of them, not to mention how he already has a strange attraction towards the corruption despite being told it's a bad thing.

so, can you imagine how awesome a team up between him and ace could be? ash's greatest motivation as a character is self-perseverance—he is his own greatest priority—but he also isn't against how that motivation can be used to help others in their goals, which could coincide with ace's goals as harbinger of the fourth calamity.

like, a team up between two incredibly different characters who, in all honesty, can't entirely stand each other would be so entertaining to watch. all they share is a common goal and perhaps a mutual enemy, but i believe in their ability to not only be civil, but effective too, maybe out of sheer spite or joy for mischief. two people who are tied together by nothing more than a mutual appreciation for a destructive purple force.

[bottlesofrouge]

☆ on one condition ☆ masterlist ☆

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

-ˏˋ i'll do it on one condition," harry drinks from his water glass and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "you can't fall in love with me."

"ah, there's the harry i know," lynn flicks her crinkled straw wrapper at his face, and it lands in the middle of his salad. he frowns and tries to fish it out with his fork, but he decides he's not really that hungry anymore. "something tells me that won't be a problem." ˊˎ-

one.

two.

three.

four.

five.

six.

seven.

✰ part eight soon ✰

[improvised-finish]

Miqo March Day #28 - Favorite City

In all of her travels, nowhere changed Lehon'a for the better quite like the Crystarium had. And for that reason alone, it held a special place in her heart.

(that, and the incredible crystal & iron-work.)

(totally didn't post tomorrow's by accident already cause I had it backwards on the list I was keeping on my phone don't worry about it)

[olailamajnoon]

Nefertiti's headdress

A sizable crowd of reporters were in the room, and cameras were flashing as Zatanna stepped up to the podium. She was wearing her Justice League uniform—Batman's attempt to make her look more official, instead of her usual hot pink leopard-print one-piece pajamas. He stood behind her with arms crossed. It was entirely possible this was the most fame Zatanna had ever gotten, and she was very obviously enjoying it, if her reels were anything to go by.

Zatanna leaned into the mic. "Hello, everyone,” she practically purred. Bruce reflected that either she or he had been spending too much time around Selina. Possibly both. "I’m here to address the recent controversy surrounding my supposedly illegal acquisition of Queen Nefertiti’s headdress."

The reporters were urgently taking notes. Zatanna pulled out a never-ending rainbow colored handkerchief from her sleeve, and put it to her eyes, to wipe what were presumably tears of remorse. Batman felt an ugly twinge in his stomach, the twinge that said hey dumbass, maybe, just maybe, things are not going according to plan.  

“I am so sorry,” Zatanna apologized, and made the handkerchief disappear with a flourish. The reporters ahhed. “I am here to tell you guys something. Promise you’ll keep it a secret?” 

There was some confusion in the audience. Batman began to debate the virtues of very publicly pulling Zatanna away from the podium, versus the PR headache that was sure to follow if he did.

“It is I,” announced Zatanna. “I am Nefertiti, reborn.”

Oh no. He should have pulled her away from the podium.

The reporters were clamorous, now. 

Batman stepped to the podium, and positioned the mic to himself. "What Zatanna means to say is that she regrets her actions and has ensured that the artifact was returned to its rightful place. The Justice League takes the preservation of cultural artifacts seriously. Any misunderstandings about Ms. Zatara’s actions are being addressed internally.”

Zatanna put up a victory sign behind Batman's cowled head, and said, loud enough to drown out his voice, “The headdress belongs to me, ye puny mortals. I shall claim what’s mine! Who else would Nefertiti’s headdress belong to, if not Nefertiti herself?”

Batman leaned back and hissed into her ear like an angry cat. “Shut up. You will not put the Justice League through yet another PR nightmare.”

“Sorry,” Zatanna mumbled, subdued. Batman watched her uneasily as she angled the mic towards her face. The cameras were flashing. “But I have adapted to your puny modern-day life,” Zatanna said in a small voice. “I have found a newfound respect for the laws of puny men.”

“You are not the Hulk,” Batman muttered under his breath.

Zatanna waited until Batman had stepped away, expecting her to follow, before she lunged for the mic again. “Follow me on Insta, ye puny mortals, or I shall curse ye to the day ye die!”

There was an uproar. A cacophony of shouts had erupted, and Batman numbly glanced behind him. Zatanna looked up at him with her innocent moon-eyes. He found himself wondering if her magical abilities included the power to resurrect herself.

Perhaps he could test that theory for scientific purposes.

[mytranssnakes]

me personally, i like lovers to enemies better than enemies to lovers