Fantasy Guide to 1920s Fashion

A post Pandemic, post war world ruled by billionaires living it up with an economic depression looming - no, not the 2020s, the 1920s. The 1920s was an era known for its bold fashion, where men and women left pre-war fashion behind in order to party it up.

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The Problem With Best Friends .｡*･ﾟﾟ

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Summary: Best friends shouldn't be thinking about kissing each other, but... Hm, it happens, right?

t'challa x f!reader

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T'Challa—your best friend T'Challa, the one who'd seen you with food poisoning and still handed you water bottles with a straight face—was standing way too close.

"This is a bad idea," you said, voice impressively steady for someone whose heartbeat could probably power a small city.

T'Challa tilted his head, all innocent confusion, like he wasn't currently backing you against your favorite reading tree in the palace gardens. "What is?"

"This." You gestured wildly between the two of you. "The—the looming. You're looming."

He had the audacity to smirk. "I'm standing."

"You're standing menacingly."

A laugh rumbled in his chest, vibrating through the scant inches separating you. "The problem is," he murmured, leaning in just enough that his breath ghosted over your lips, "if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop."

Your brain short-circuited.

This was not how best friends behaved. Best friends didn't notice how soft each other's lips looked in the sunset. Best friends didn't memorize the exact shade of brown in each other's eyes. Best friends definitely didn't have this kind of tension unless someone was about to win a very intense board game.

"You're cheating," you accused.

T'Challa's eyebrows shot up. "At what?"

"At friendship!" You poked his chest. "We had rules. No flirtation, no weird tension, absolutely no almost-kissing by the—mmph!"

The protest died in your throat as his lips finally met yours—soft at first, then insistent, like he'd been waiting years to do this (which, okay, maybe he had, but that wasn't the point).

When he finally pulled back, you were definitely not breathless.

(She was breathless.)

T'Challa studied your dazed expression with entirely too much satisfaction. "So. Still a bad idea?"

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Then, with all the dignity you could muster: "...We should test the hypothesis further. For science."

His grin was downright wolfish. "As my best friend, I'd be happy to assist with your research."

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of fire, you came to a groundbreaking scientific conclusion:

Best friends made terrible kissing partners.

...Which was why you'd clearly need to try it approximately seven hundred more times to be sure.

It’s them it’s them it’s them

still remains the best hp derogation of all time

One thing golden era Wattpad writers had going for them was that they knew the importance of a buildup. I'm of the opinion that the sexual tension is WAY more satisfying to read than the actual sex and quite frankly there is a serious lack of non smutty writing.

Like I really miss reading fics/ x readers that start from scratch. Meeting the characters, initial reactions getting to know them, the tension the jealousy the TENSION the freaking tension.

Looking and looking away when they get spotted, touches that feel like they linger but perhaps they didn't and they're both so hot for each other that they think it's wishful thinking. And I don't mean just sweet sunshine romances, darker works can have a buildup too but it seems like so much is just about getting to the smut instead of the psychological aspect.

Bring back the build up!!!!!!!

You Can Stay

Raven haired, ocean eyed Perseus Jackson. The Hero of Olympus, bearer of the curse of Achilles, savior of Camp Half Blood.

And a royal pain in your ass.

Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, you’re good at ignoring people, great at it even. When you don’t want to be found no one can find you, except Percy Jackson apparently.

You had saved his life during the Battle of Mannhatan, and apparently that was enough for him to become enamored. As if he weren’t surrounded by pretty people with swords all the time. You’d think he’d be used to it after years at camp.

You like being alone, you’ve always liked being alone. You’re friends get that, they’ve learned that when you wander off and can’t be found not to go looking for you. You know who hasn’t learned that lesson?

Percy Fucking Jackson.

Heading down to the arena to train?

He’s there.

Going down to the lake after the campfire to cool down?

He’s there.

Walking into the woods to get away from life?

He’s not far behind you.

Which is how you’ve ended up in the top of one of the tallest trees around the lake, your back pressed up against the bark and a book balance precariously on your leg. Camp had grown to be too much for you. Too many people trying to pretend the war didn’t happen, that everything was normal, that more than half of their friends and siblings weren’t dead.

Your cabin didn’t feel far enough away, in truth the tree didn’t feel far enough either.

“Are you… okay?”

You let out a frustrated sound, all you wanted was to be alone for five minutes. “I’m great.” Silently you turn back to the pages of your book, the boy below is quiet as well, for a minute you think he may have finally gotten the hint and left you alone, but its soon after you have the thought that you hear the sounds of branches creaking down below.

Percy stops his accent on the branch below yours, where he stands silently for a few minutes staring up at you as if waiting for you to say something, acknowledge him or whatever. Eventually he speaks quietly. “I’m not okay.”

That makes you pause, your fingers wrapped around the corner of a page you were halfway through turning. Slowly you rest the page down again, and look down at him. It doesn’t feel real, the Percy Jackson, the Hero of Olympus, the savoir of camp, isn’t okay.

Percy Jackson is always okay.

“Why aren’t you okay?” You ask quietly.

You’ve finally given in to his game, his little chase, you expect him to look smug, or happy, or anything expect for the lost expression that forms on his face. “I failed them.”

“What do you mean?”

Percy looks up at you again, his head resting against the tree, bark tugging at the dark waves. “Everyone keeps telling me I won, that I saved everyone, but I didn’t. We lost so many people, I lost so many people.”

“It was war, we were always going to lose people.” You answer softly, you’d been running from everyone at camp for months, Percy included, because it felt like nobody else felt the loss the war had saddled them with.

Maybe you were wrong.

Percy seems to have realized that he had dropped that on you unbidden and looks down at the branches below him, as if considering how to climb back down. “‘M sorry, you probably wanted to be alone.” He murmurs, still looking at his feet.

“You can stay.”

ANGUS, THONGS AND PERFECT SNOGGING
2008, dir. Gurinder Chadha

Lucky 7 cow reblog for good luck

My favorite relationship dynamic in fiction is a worshipper and their God. Not a literal God, but their God. The only thing in the whole world that matters to them. I will live for you, I would die for you, I would kill for you. My only moral compass is You. You can do no wrong in my eyes and I will never stray from your side. I was born to meet you and to love you. You are the only being I pray to. Your life isn’t just my passion, it’s my religion. You don’t think you’re anything special but you don’t see what I see. You don’t see that you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel this way. You don’t understand how beautiful you are to me and I will devote my entire life to making you understand and accept it.

We got a cat! She likes perching above my desk and watching bird TV in the back yard. The cone is off now, thankfully.

genuinely cannot emphasize enough that the damsel in distress archetype really does not exist in medieval literature the way people think it does. these ladies are really only in distress because they can’t find a knight willing to enact bloodshed for them. if anything these damsels are causing distress

get publicized

ALT

idgaf if my parents are disappointed in me I'm not impressed by them either