#Engineered Wood bookshelf

[tejuskumar13]

Buy Bookshelves Online Starting from ₹4,999 from Wakefit

Shop Wakefit bookshelves online starting from ₹4,999. Find the ideal storage solution for your books and decor. Explore our range today!

[nebulousnoiz]

Contemporary Home Office Mid-sized trendy freestanding desk dark wood floor study room photo with no fireplace and white walls

[samfurniture88]

Buy SamDecors Solid Wood Shoe Rack with Four Compartments.  It can be used as a filing cabinet. It can also be used as a bookshelf in your study or as a shoe rack at the entrance of homes or offices.

[soullessdianthus]

Stalker!Ghost

w: stalking turned into kidnapping, simon being weirdo and obsessive, intoxication, implied drugging?, not proof read!

Ghost’s therapist suggested that he should look for another purpose in life than service in the military. Than getting his hands dirty and bloody. He was over thirty now and needed to find something to cling to in between deployments – a new hobby, an interesting course, an intriguing book, perhaps a lover? So Simon did take leave for a couple of weeks.

And soon afterwards he manages to find his new purpose, when you accidentally bumped into his broad chest on the street. Such a petrified yet kind creature you were, smiling at his cold gaze. That object of his desires was you.

Stalker!Ghost takes watching over you as a point of honor, to make sure nobody bothered you, no creeps followed you home. Oh he knew your address by now, because Simon had to make sure you returned from work safely. And he was so patient. The soldier kept his distance watching over from his car, hidden between the shadows.

However, Stalker!Ghost became bolder, sneaking into your home when you were out. His massive figure looming around your personal spaces not even hesitating before digging straight to the panties drawer. 

Simon would stuff one pair of your underwear at the time into his loose trousers – he might need them and your smell later that evening, at the confinement of his own house. This was the closest he could get to you, at least for now. 

But you couldn’t ignore the strange smell that lingered in the air as you just returned home. It was foreign, yet pleasant – a simple male cologne with a tint of burned wood. But you were living alone! And who messed around with your decor? You could swear that the hippo figure was standing next to the bookshelf, not near your plants. 

Stalker!Ghost wanted to be acknowledged by you, to gain your precious and sweet attention. He often wondered how soft your hands were, what your hair smelled like, what your laugh sounded like… how tight your pussy would squeeze around him when he finally lay his hands on you. 

Obviously you noticed the strange presence of that man at some point. He followed you like a shadow and it made you feel eerie. Simon, as you learned, happened to be shopping at the same grocery shop, sometimes joining you on a walk in the nearest park. Or when the engine of your car couldn’t start and he offered to give you a ride. He was your new friend, right?

The coincidences were a little too perfectly planned out to be accidental. 

The British soldier was so intimidating that you accepted his invitation on a date in a pub (not like you had a choice, he caged you in a corner). “Just this one time” you foolishly thought, before putting on a little, black dress that underlined your curves a little too good to be true for Stalker!Ghost.

To your surprise the date was going surprisingly well – Simon was a good listener, charmed by your personality and never pushing you to the dance floor if you clearly stated that you didn’t want to. He didn’t even try to sneak his coarse palms under the hem of your dress!

The false sense of security got you a little too tipsy – perhaps a few drinks too much got you all tired, overwhelmed and whiney. It was you who climbed into Simon’s big lap and placed your head over his shoulder. He smelled so nice, so familiar… And his embrace was warm. But it left you confused, you didn’t drink that much, didn’t you? 

— Tha’ enough for today, eh? Let’s get ya to bed, sweetheart. — Simon stated, brushing some loose strands of hair away from your blushed face and you nodded weakly. You didn’t remember when he seated you in the passenger seat of his car or when he helped you get through the front doors. 

And when Stalker!Ghost finally got you dizzy and cuddled beneath his bedsheets, he couldn’t be fucking happier in his entire, miserable life. At that moment Simon didn’t want to worry what your reaction would be in the morning, when you realized that the doors were sealed tight with you inside Ghost’s house.

[hrizantemy]

I said to Tamlin, my back ramrod straight, “You don’t get to speak to me like that. You promised you wouldn’t act this way.”

“You have no idea what’s at risk—”

“Don’t you talk down to me. Not after what I went through to get back here, to you. To our people. You think any of us are happy to be working with Hybern? You think I don’t see it in their faces? The question of whether I am worth the dishonor of it?” His breathing turned ragged again. Good, I wanted to urge him. Good. “You sold us out to get me back,” I said, low and cold. “You whored us out to Hybern. Forgive me if I am now trying to regain some of what we lost.” Claws slid free. A feral growl rippled out of him. “They hunted down and butchered those humans for sport,” I went on. “You might be willing to get on your knees for Hybern, but I certainly am not.” He exploded. Furniture splintered and went flying, windows cracked and shattered. And this time, I did not shield myself.

The worktable slammed into me, throwing me against the bookshelf, and every place where flesh and bone met wood barked and ached. My knees slammed into the carpeted floor, and Tamlin was instantly in front of me, hands shaking— The doors burst open.

This scene is one of the most twisted examples of how the fandom—and Feyre herself—manipulates the narrative when it comes to Tamlin.

Let’s break this down:

1. Feyre’s Intentional Provocation

Feyre wanted this reaction. That’s undeniable. Look at her internal monologue:

“Good, I wanted to urge him. Good.”

She is deliberately pushing Tamlin to the edge, goading him into losing control. This isn’t an innocent conversation where emotions spiral out of hand—this is Feyre calculatedly provoking someone she knows is volatile, emotionally compromised, and deeply unstable after everything that’s happened.

She came back to Spring Court with the explicit goal of destroying it from within. She wanted Tamlin broken, isolated, and enraged. And when he reacts violently—not even directly attacking her, but lashing out at his surroundings in a loss of control—she welcomes it. She doesn’t shield herself on purpose so that there’s a physical consequence.

This is not to excuse Tamlin’s outburst—because yes, losing control like that is dangerous. But this wasn’t some random act of cruelty. Feyre engineered this moment. She weaponized his trauma, his guilt, and his desperation.

2. Context Matters

Tamlin is a male who has:

• Been manipulated by Ianthe.

• Seemingly sold out to Hybern out of a desperate, grief-stricken attempt to save Feyre.

• Watched his entire court slip into chaos.

• Been lied to, abandoned, and humiliated.

Feyre knows exactly what mental state he’s in. And rather than handle it with any sense of maturity or strategic distance, she taunts him about being a traitor, a whore, and someone who kneels for Hybern—when she knows damn well he thought he was saving her life.

3. The Double Standard

The fandom excuses Rhysand constantly for far worse behavior—mind control, threats, manipulation, and even outright abuse of power—because he’s “traumatized” or “had no choice.”

But when Tamlin, a character who clearly struggles with emotional regulation and grief, explodes after being intentionally provoked, suddenly he’s irredeemable?

Where is that same energy for Rhysand threatening to make the Autumn Court bleed because Lucien drew a sword? Or Cassian snapping because Nesta irritated him?

Feyre walked into this scene knowing exactly what she wanted to happen. She didn’t protect herself because she wanted a bruise—something to hold against him, to further justify her sabotage and to make herself the victim.

4. Feyre’s Hypocrisy

Feyre has repeatedly used her trauma as justification for her behavior—but gives Tamlin none of that grace. She acts as if he should be perfectly composed while she’s actively tearing his court apart.

She’s not confronting Tamlin out of a desire for closure, justice, or even protection of others—she’s doing it to provoke a reaction.

Conclusion: Why I’ll Never Blame Tamlin Fully For This Scene

Because this wasn’t a one-sided act of violence. This was a calculated emotional attack from Feyre, designed to push Tamlin into snapping so she could justify her actions and further vilify him.

Did Tamlin lose control? Yes.

Is that dangerous? Yes.

But was this entirely his fault? Absolutely not.

Feyre wanted this. She orchestrated it. And the fact that people ignore her role in this moment just proves how skewed the narrative has become.

[its-been-rose]

So I spent like 2 hours on this

Anyways, let me explain:

Methodology: to make this map I watched an unedited playthrough of the game and marked down how long it took to get from one scripted event to the next. I then inserted in the known times/save points the game gives you at certain intervals. I then calculated at what time each event would take place given how long the game takes to actually play, and then put those numbers to correspond with the actual in- game clock. All times marked with a ~ are approximate.

What I found:

The game is actually pretty much in real time, with some exceptions. There are some timeskips. If you’re playing a speedrun, you’re gonna come in at like 3:30, and the game ends roughly at 4 am ish. This means that if you do everything super fast and don’t waste any time, the game timeskips about half an hour here and there. I tried to account for these timeskips where they occur in my map like adding two minutes when Roddy’s song is skipped. Some sections also take a bit longer than the in-game time. For example, the time from Maurice to Virginia to Eugene to Murphy is much longer irl than it is in-universe, meaning no matter who is doing what kill, they are BOOKING IT from victim to victim.

Who did what: so my choices of who did what kill rely on two things: one, proximity to the confirmed kills/scripted events, and two, my own personal headcanons for who did which. I will now put the game’s timeline in order as well as who did what. Please keep in mind anything happening within KFAM like ponty’s calls or the little Peggy q and an after Maurice or Forrest being the rizz king to Sandra are not included.

~11:40 pm: sheriff Matthews is killed (Marie) (I didn’t put an actual time on the map for this because i don’t know if it’s right or not but in my HEAD, Marie started her attack at George’s TOD)

~11:55 pm: whatever the opening cutscene is (Henry)

~12:04 am: Leslie is attacked (Marie)

-Marie recovers from being shot at by the Sherriff and tased by leslie

~12:25 am: Sandra is attacked (Marie) (Sandra’s excact location is unknown but I put her by what is presumably a parking lot by the football field near the river running route.) (Sandra is not seen getting into her car because Marie takes a longer time to actually get into the parking lot due to being injured)

~12:25 am: Henry slashes the fire engine tires and makes his way up to Maurice.

~12:47 am: Maurice reports a break in (Henry)

-Henry is locked in the archive for like 10 minutes

-Marie drops off the tape on her way to get Henry

-when she breaks him out, they hear Murphy acting a fool, but Marie tells henry to stick to his current target before going up to the maze.

~1:20 am: Marie calls Virginia because she has the phone and sends Henry on his way (Virginia’s location is also unknown so I just guessed)

~1:35 am: Henry goes to attack Virginia but is scared off by the frat. Immediately books it to Murphy.

~1:40 am: Eugene is attacked (Marie)

-marie, on her way to the graveyard, sees the teens going to the murder house and watches

~1:53 am: Murphy is attacked (Henry)

-Marie sees the prank unfolding and slips into the group

~2:15 am: the teens are attacked (Marie)

-Marie spends a few minutes at the graveyard visiting George and recovering from getting a bookshelf tipped over on top of her

~2:32 am: Forrest spots the whistling man outside KFAM when going to retrieve LRH (Henry)

~2:43 am: Marie and Henry meet outside the gas station to regroup (optional? Idk)

~2:45 am: the bomb is detonated (Marie)

-Henry goes back to KFAM to hang out outside as the last victims are personal to his mother.

~3:10 am: Ricky is attacked (Marie)

~3:18 am: Jason is stabbed in the woods (Marie)

~3:25 am: Casey calls KFAM now inside her house

-Marie kidnaps Teddy on her way to the school gym

~3:45 am: Henry enters KFAM and locks Forrest in the producer booth

~3:46 am: Interview with Teddy begins (Marie)

~3:58 am: Peggy confronts Marie

Thoughts? Do you agree or disagree? What would you change? Do you think this was a complete waste of my Sunday evening? I’d love to hear your thoughts!!

*edited to add: I changed Virginias location to make at least a little more sense lol

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Sunflower: Chapter 5

Chapter warnings: drinking AN: Sorry for the delay- I got sidelined yesterday by the company Holiday party, a fishbowl and peer pressure. I don't think the country club expected the company president to lead frat party level shenanigans during a Ortho Surgery company holiday party but it was, as is always when Pres can sneak a fishbowl in behind the CEO's back, legendary. Bone Bros may be the jocks of the healthcare and surgical world but they're the best to party with.

Chapter 4 Masterlist Chapter 6

Shame. 

That’s what she felt as she pulled onto the street. 

She hadn’t told him, she didn’t know how to. Maybe it wouldn’t matter. Maybe she would pull in and he would bulk before she had even had a chance to park. Maybe he would say he was too good to be seen in a place like this. Maybe he wouldn’t even get out of the car. Maybe he would demand to be taken back.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

The gates to the apartment complex were wide open. That wasn’t anything new. They had been broken for as long as she had lived in her unit though the complex advertised themselves as a secured complex. 

They would be fixed this winter, or so she was told every single winter.

“Is this it?” 

She answered his question with a noise as she turned into a wing of the parking lot. 

Trash littered the sidewalks and kids were yelling on the playground as the car slowly pulled up in front of a crumbling set of concrete stairs. The buildings was painted what she affectionately called ‘shit brown’ with tan trimmings. Balconies overhung the three floor apartment buildings.

When the engine cut, he didn’t hesitate to open the door and step out. He didn’t show any hesitation either as he pulled his suitcase and carry on from the back of her car. 

“Lead the way.” His voice was level, calm, and schooled giving her no insight as to what may have been going on behind his eyes. 

“Are you sure?” She bit her lip nervously. 

“Are you trying to scare me away?” A small smile tugged the corners of his lips.

“No, but-”

“Than yes, I’m sure.” There was that steel in him again. It was something she had only gotten fleeting glimpses of. There was a harder side to him, hidden under charming fluff. When he put his mind to something, it seemed that the steel would surface to ensure there was follow through. 

Without a way to convince him otherwise, she lead the way up the flight of stairs. He carried his bags easily, though she had a deep hatred for these stairs thanks to the hassle they caused her every time she went to do laundry.

A note was taped to her second floor door. The AC had managed to get fixed, thank god, it was supposed to be in the hundreds in the next few days. 

“Everything okay?” Tom asked as he set his suitcase on the landing behind her. 

“AC’s fixed.” Crumpling the paper, she tossed it into the small trash can beside the door and made a mental note to deal with it later. What she didn’t tell him was that the apartment complex blamed her for the broken unit and demanded she not set the temperature below 80 degrees. 

Unlocking the door, she stepped inside. At least for the moment, the temperature inside the unit was a relief. It was a mater of time though and it would feel suffocating.

“This is it.” She held the door open for him and waved her arm inside. “Don’t worry about your shoes- it looks like the repairmen didn’t think twice about tracking dirt inside.” 

The front door opened into a small living room. Next to the front door was a sliding glass door that opened onto a small balcony that Tom saw from the ground. Across from the front door was a flight of stairs. A small kitchen was in the back of the living room. Three simple barstools were tucked under the island bar.

Dirt was tracked in from the front door, leaving a trail lit up by the desert sun across the impersonation wood floors. There was a small couch -there was no way he would fit on it- on one side of the wall and a TV stand and flat screen TV across from it. A bookshelf packed full of books stood next to the TV.

“You can put your bags where ever.” She gestured to the small space. “I guess I’ll give you the grand tour.” 

Never in her life had she felt so ashamed, while she watched a small bug crawl along the wall by the door. Hopefully he hadn’t seen it.

“This is pretty much it.” There wasn’t much to show him. “There’s upstairs too.” 

The stairs creaked under their weight as they climbed the narrow staircase. He was quiet behind her, only adding to her anxiety. 

If only he would say something. Anything would be good enough. Tell her it was too small. Say the apartment wasn’t good enough for him. Insist that he couldn’t stay there. Change his mind. Insult her. Something. Anything. 

“Here’s the bathroom,” She turned into the room doorway on the left and gestured to the fixtures. The room was long and narrow with a sliding door separating the sink and toilet area from the shower area. At the other end, just in front of the foot of the tub was another door which she led him through. 

The design of the apartment was weird, she knew it. The doorway opened up into a second sink area with a rod for clothes. There was no door on this cubby of a room, allowing it to flow right into the bedroom. 

She grabbed a cordless vacuum, reaching down and unplugging it quickly. It wasn’t loud when she turned it on, running it quickly over the floor and into the hallway.

“What’s behind this door?” Tom pointed to the door that was skipped by going through the bathroom. 

“Oh.” Her heart sank. “It’s nothing-” She rushed him downstairs, vacuuming behind his feet. She had slipped her feet out of her shoes and kicked them back toward her bedroom. 

“Can I help with anything?” Tom asked as she ran the vacuum around the living room. She assured him that she had it under control, and she did, leaving him to look at the books. 

There were novels, old and new on the shelf of many genres. There were also coloring books, workbooks and children’s books. 

On the shelf was a framed picture of a small family. A younger Mia was center holding a small baby with sandy blond hair. A tall blonde man had his arms wrapped around them both. 

“Is this him?” Tom asked, picking the frame up when the vacuum cut.

“What?” Her heart dropped when she saw the picture. It was such a part of her environment, she had forgotten it was even there. There was no more hiding. There was no more pretending. There was no more protecting. 

"Yeah,” She took the picture from him and looked down at it for a moment. It was a snapshot from when she thought she could never have been happier. “The woman in this picture thought she was going to marry a man who would support her always. Who would love her always. Who would be their for his daughter. Instead she was a woman being run around on.”

“Daughter?” Tom looked down at her as she set the picture back in it’s place. 

“That room, upstairs. It’s my daughter’s.”

“How old is she?” Tom turned to face her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Look, I don’t- I don’t want you to think I agreed to get to money or to use you.” She couldn’t look at him. 

“Than why did you?” His voice was soft. 

“It seemed to matter to you a lot, that’s all.” Stepping away, she put space between them. “I don’t want anything from you. I just-” The ringing of her phone cut her off. Ashely’s name lit up the screen in her hand. 

“It’s okay.” Tom nodded toward the phone.

“Are you still alive?” Ashley’s teasing tone did little to cover her worry. “Where are you?”

“I’m home. Still alive. Haven’t been murdered yet.” 

“You’re home?” 

She directed her attention to Tom, “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable?” He nodded to her as she directed her attention back to the phone. “We’re home.”

“What?!” Ashley squawked. “You brought him home. To your apartment. Your s-h-i-t bag of an apartment?!” 

“I didn’t have much choice.” But she knew she did. Tom offered, he pressured lightly but as far as the time she can remember with him, he has never really forced anything, just pushed with that hard edge.

“I got called into work. Justin is working tonight too…”

“Shit. Okay. It can’t be helped.” Mia ran a hand through her hair. What was she going to say. How was she going to explain this. How could she know, really know, that her daughter was safe. 

“I’ll feed her lunch first so you can sort whatever mess you’ve made of your life out.”

“Gee, thanks. Love you too.” The line disconnected, leaving Mia alone with the consequences of her actions.

“Is everything alright?” Tom crossed the room in a few strides. There simply wasn’t a lot of room to cross. 

“Yeah, it’s nothing.” It wasn’t nothing. She wasn’t sure how she would manage to sleep tonight with a strange man in the same house as her daughter. 

With time ticking down, they sat on the couch and talked. Mia was perhaps the most honest she had been. There was no going back, Ashley would deliver Sally to the apartment soon. 

She told Tom of the wonderful five year old that lived in the house, how she had a perfectly fine bed but insisted on sleeping on a blanket on the floor. Tom listened to her as she talked about picky eating and noise. He listened as she told him of tearful nights crying for her father- a man she remembered the idea of far more than anything else.

“She sounds lovely.” Tom smiled.

“You’re not angry I didn’t tell you earlier?” 

A warm hand rested on her back and rubbed between her shoulders. These small acts of tender affection were far and few between. Again, the kind touch caught her off guard. 

“You wanted to protect her. I can’t fault you for wanting to feel out a man you’re bringing into her life- even less so in our current situation.” 

“How are you with kids?” A text to her phone let her know Ashley would be arriving in a few short minutes.

“I think I do well enough. I don’t have any of my own, of course -” That felt like a needle to her “- but my sisters have them as do some of my friends.”

Knocking on the door told Mia her time was up. It was either introduce Tom to Sally as… something or ask a neighbor to watch her. There wasn’t enough notice for her to ask neighbors, she’d been counting on Ashley. 

“Oh no,” her head swam on a sea of alcohol. It had been years since she had this much fun and even longer since she had this much to drink.

“What is it?” The man- his name- asked her. What was his name? 

“I lost my necklace.” She pouted. It wasn’t an expensive one or anything but she had so very little nice jewelry.

“Oh dear!” He pulled her to face him and leaned down to inspect her neck and chest before declaring as if it was news, “It’s gone.” 

“I know.” She pouted before sighing. “Oh well.”

With him leaning down just so, he didn’t tower over her nearly as much. It was impulsive but she threw her arms around his neck. Leaning up on her toes, she kissed the tip of his nose. A boyish grin lit up his face and he chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“We need to get you a necklace.” He decided. 

“I can’t.” She pouted. “No money. No jewelry. Naked neck.” 

“We can’t have that.” He decided, pulling away from her only to take her hand in his. Pulling her along, he lead the way to the first jewelry store he found that was open. 

“I can’t afford any of this stuff.” She sighed, looking at sparkling necklaces and bracelets. 

“Why not?” 

“I’m poor.” She laughed, dragging out the word as if it was a joke but tears gathered in her eyes just the same. “Gotta make sure I’ve got money for rent and groceries.” 

“Do you need a prince to sweep you off your feet and save you?” He joked, dancing her down the length of the jewelry case.” 

“Princes don’t exist in real life. They make you think they do and leave.”

“They do in England.” Tom nodded wisely. “I’ll buy you a necklace. Any one you want.” 

“You can’t!” She protested. “They’re expensive.”

“It’s my fault you lost it.” He leaned down and kissed her nose, much like she had done to him. “And I can afford it.” 

“I can’t. I’m drunk but I’m not drunk enough to take handouts.”

“What if we were married. Then could I buy you a necklace?” They nearly tripped over the chairs in front of a lower section of the counter. 

“It would be your job.” her smile was as intoxicating as the whiskey they had drank all evening. “Too bad we’re not.”

“Then let’s get married.”

Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki @jennyggggrrr, @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite @tinchentitri, @wizardcherryblossom @buttercupcookies-blog @violethaze @kats72

[tejuskumar13]

Buy Bookshelves Online Starting from ₹4,999 from Wakefit

Shop Wakefit bookshelves online starting from ₹4,999. Find the ideal storage solution for your books and decor. Explore our range today!

[sumuraj]

Buy Bookshelf Online Upto 30% OFF in India prices starting at Rs 3,799 | Wakefit

Shop bookshelf online in India. Buy the latest range of designs of bookshelf at affordable prices. Available in different colors, designs, and sizes. No Cost EMI | Doorstep Delivery | Free Shipping.

[howlsmovinglibrary]

18 and 24 if they haven’t been done!

18. How many books did you buy?

I don't keep track of this, unfortunately. I buy exclusively on kindle atm bc I haven't found a good third bookshelf, which makes it easy to purchase stuff without noticing :')))))))))

24. Did you DNF anything? Why?

I DNF'ed two books -

Rewitched by Emily Jane Wood. I've dunked on this book in pretty much every answer, but it deserves it. This book set itself up as a cosy fantasy about magical witch burnout, which (as someone who's somewhat burned to a crisp herself) appealed to me. But the cosy fantasy brainrotten tendency to avoid conflict entirely meant that there was just... no plot. The protagonist's 'burnout' established itself as 'this character is miserable because of a situation she herself has engineered and refuses to change because... reasons (not found)'. Add in the immediate one-dimensional demonisation of anyone critical of her behaviour, the overuse of the adjective 'cosy' to describe everything - just so you know what genre you're in, and the most lacklustre romance I've read all year.... Nah, lads.

Fang Fiction by Kate Stayman London. This book was just... bad. Like so bad. My other friend managed to finish it and get past the 10% mark (which is where I gave up), and confirmed it didn't get any better. Badly edited, exposition heavy, dull, boring, with jarring gen z and millenial cultural references that the author then points to and says '...did you get that reference? did you watch buffy?' Compelling heroine, but with an unfortunate tendency to shout 'no homo' while pointing to all her gay and trans friends bc she's a "good ally". unsexy, boring romance. a speech about how a 200 year old vampire connected to his korean culture... through modern kdrama. and the worst, most unforgiveable crime of all... unsexy vampires. DNF.

end of year book ask!

[iibislintu]

my food processor died - it was only three years older than myself - poor old thing, you were such a good friend

but when, in the end, your engine overheated so badly that you burned my fingers, i knew it was time

and like. i still have my grandpa's old office desk that he got used in the 60s, and my great-aunt's bookcase, and spouse's great-grandad's bookshelf and chest of drawers, and my dad's guitar and and grandad's jumper and.

things made of wood and wool last forever. plastic doesn't, and it's so sad because plastic was supposed to be the material of the future, and yet when it breaks it's broken

i want my things to be mendable, so that i or someone can fix them and have them be good for another 37 years

[hanahaki-disease]

What Would You Do For Me?

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC cross over

Summary:

“He knows that Dick will never be Jason, no one could ever replace him or even hold a torch to the brotherhood they had with each other. They were each other’s best friend, their partner in crime—Jason was there for Percy when there was no one there for Jason. But it was so comforting to know that Percy could have Dick be like that for him too, that Dick wants to be like that for him. That he was able to push aside whatever animosity he had, or still has with Bruce, to be better for Percy.”

****************************

“Hello?”

“Hello, Master Richard.”

“Oh! Hey, Alfred! What’s up?”

“I was inquiring if you could return to the manor soon,” Alfred asked.

“I’m heading over tomorrow, I promised Tim I’d help him with his one-handed back springs,” He answered. “I should be there around lunch, why? Is there something wrong?”

“On the contrary, master Richard, there have been some wonderful news that has happened, and it is urgent you return soon.”

“You’re making your famous chocolate chip cookies for dinner?”

“Master Perseus had returned home.”

“…”

“Master Richard? Young master Richard, are you there?”

“I’ll be there by dinner.”

—

It was quiet in the manor now, the silence a somewhat welcome chance of pace from the constant shuffling and movement that was camp. When Percy and Jason first moved into the manor, the silence was frightening. It kept them on edge. Quiet on the streets was never a good sign; it was the moments before a fire, before a mugging, before a gunshot. Quiet was the muffled melody of death in the winter, when the snow absorbed both heat and sound. They hadn’t liked the silence back then.

As time wore on, they found that they had rather liked it. They didn’t need to jump awake at every car honk or revved engine, the scuffling of feet didn’t make them turn their heads quick behind them. They could sleep with ease in the manor. They could simply be in the manor.

Jason had taken advantage of the quiet. His refuge in the labyrinth of old wood and generational decor was the olive green, hand embroidered chaise in the library. Gold thread wove in and out of the decades old fabric in beautiful leaf shapes all across the bronze branches of the artistically done tree. Azure birds and amethyst flowers broke up the sea of gold and green, glinting like the gems they emulated. Every time Percy saw his older brother on the chaise, legs wrapped up in a thick knitted blanket, nose in a book with the sunlight behind him, he would say that Jason mimicked the birds on the chair.

His brother would look up from whatever it was he was reading, mocked offense on his features, before throwing the pillow he had commandeered at Percy. Their laugh would echo in the quiet of the library, but it wouldn’t be so daunting. It wouldn’t sit heavy in the rafters and in the spaces between dusty covers and worn leather. It’d settle in the loved novels stacked by Jason’s side, in the bright windows that illuminated the room.

The library didn’t seem all that bright anymore.

A gloom that mirrored the gray clouds over Gotham dulled the library now, dragging the dark corners of the ceiling down. Pulling at the shadows in between the aisles, at the ashes in the fireplaces, in the cold that overtook that lingering warmth. Even Jason’s blanket couldn’t keep the cold out. It was a heavy, solid weight on his limbs, sinking Percy further into Jason’s chaise. His head resting on the arm rest, watching the dust mites float around in the gray light of the Gotham sun.

He knows why Jason liked this chaise in particular. It was near the window to be bathed in a healthy amount of light, enough to let him read comfortably without it being too bright. It was somewhat tucked into one of the corners of the room, hidden behind a tall bookshelf, away from sight lines in the improbable case of a break-in. That doesn’t mean that Percy didn’t have a perfect view of the entrances. The main doors were straight a head of him and he could see the spiral iron stair case that went up to the second floor. There was also a fireplace nearby for when the winter snow and wind beat against the window, the cold trying to weave between the grains of wood and the stone of the walls outside.

How many hours had Jason spent in this chair? Just, content to sit in the piece of furniture that Bruce’s grandmother had bought more than a century ago. How many of the books here had Jason read through? Light hands turning the delicate pages as blue-green eyes scanned the inked words, letting them paint their world in his head. Watching the characters dance and act to the tragedies and fortunes long dead authors created.

Percy picked up the top book on the stack beside him, the cold biting at his arm as soon as it left the minimal warmth of the blanket. It was Pride and Prejudice. The hardcover old and beaten, the corners rounded and the spine was creased with the white lines of use. The edge of the pages were soft, the way that old books were, and there was a water stain towards the back half of the book. No doubt from an accidental spill when the book was getting too good.

Inside, Percy ran his fingers over Jason’s name. “Return to Jason and Perseus Todd if lost” was written in blue ink beneath the dedication, the hand writing perfectly looped and curved to create their names that only could have belonged to their mother. Very different to Percy’s quick and uneven chicken scratch or Jason’s half print, half cursive scrawl. It was hard to read what he wrote in the margins, not because he couldn’t understand it, no, Percy has been told everything and anything about Jane Austen’s books. He’s practically read the book without having read the book. But he couldn’t seem to make heads or tails of the words in his brother’s handwriting, his dyslexia making it look like Russian cursive instead of English.

He didn’t mind it though. He was perfectly content to just gloss over the worn and loved pages, delicately tracing the scribbles of thoughts and predictions written in the margins and various colored sticky notes.

Percy missed his brother, the thought weighing heavy in his chest much like the blanket. He missed hearing him ramble about the book he was reading or whatever he learned at school. He missed waiting for Jason outside of Brentwood academy on the days he had basketball practice, the squeaking of sneakers on polished light wood floors and the inconsistent ‘thud’s of the balls. Missed the unimportant arguments they had about the most stupidest things in the back seats, at the dinner table, in the Batcave. He missed teaming up with him to go after Dick on the few moments he bothered to show up, laughing and screaming when he chased after them. His own smile a mix of annoyance and joy.

He missed Dick and he’d never thought he would. After all the guy was hardly home, retreating all the way across the country in Jump city with a team of heroes to call his own. He was angry all the time when he was in Gotham. Yelling at Bruce, ignoring him and Jason, only Alfred was able to bypass the cold shoulder he gave everyone.

Because despite the reluctant interactions and the tolerance he had for them two, Dick had still cared for them. He would still send the two of them birthday and Christmas gifts from Jump city. He would still make sure they were taken care off, pestering Bruce with questions about their health or their grades. He would still protect them should anything happen on patrol while he’s there. Nightwing guarding Robin’s back in the throes of rogues and villains, protecting him as much as he could while still letting the younger hold his own.

It had also been a while since Percy had even saw Dick in person. Video chats with his Nightwing mask on and the Titans behind him weren’t exactly considered a family call. And when he did come back to Gotham, it was because of a case and Percy did not want to don a uniform and fly around the rooftops. Last time Dick and Percy had been in the same room together was Thanksgiving almost two years ago. Jason and Percy on one side of the table, Dick and Alfred on the other side with Alfred acting as a buffer between Dick and Bruce. The tension then was as thick as the turkey and could probably be carved like one.

Still, Percy missed Dick. He wondered if Dick missed him too. Wondered if he felt at least a little guilty for how he treated them before everything that happened, happened. If he had been as heartbroken as Alfred and Tim had been when they found out he disappeared. If he regrets all he hadn’t said or did.

Percy traced one particularly small note in the book, his nail scratching at the ink ever so slightly as he let his thoughts consume him. Blind to the figure in the door frame, deaf to the scrambling and shuffling of feet as whoever they were searched the library. He had a feeling that there was something else in the room with him, like a sonar radar made of pure vibes beeping away in the general direction of the other entity. Maybe that was a demigod thing, a way to sense an ally or enemy while his head was preoccupied. Or maybe it was the bat-training he had, of just simply knowing he was being followed or in the presence of something else, to be on guard for whatever happens. Perhaps it was the Wayne fame that he gained over night all those years ago, the steady group of paparazzi that followed them to every gala and event or even when they went to the mall.

“Percy?” His head shot up at the sound of his name, letting the library around him come back into focus.

At the corner of the bookshelf that separated this little section and the edge of the main sitting area of the library, Dick stood wide eyes and out of breath. One hand holding the back of the couch beside him, the other open and at his side. There was a frantic feeling on him, as if he had run around the manor in some kind of craze, searching for something. Or someone. The muscles in his legs tensed, he wanted to get closer but something was holding him frozen.

Something washed over Percy when he realized who it was. It came crashing down on him like a tidal wave, clenching at his heart and glossing his eyes. The book in his hands forgotten and the blanket an annoying obstacle as he jumped off the chaise and towards Dick. That seemed to unfreeze Dick because it only took him a few steps till he was able to wrap his arms around Percy.

One arm wrapped around his back, the other at his shoulders, squeezing him tight and refusing to let go. Not that Percy minded, he held his own arms tight on Dick too, his hands fisting the jacket he wore as he buried his head into his Dick’s neck. He couldn’t stop the tears that stained the older man’s shirt, couldn’t stop the stuttering breaths in his chest or the trembling hands and arms clinging to Dick like a lifeline. It seemed like Dick was the same. Head bowed down, in Percy’s shoulder, a hand carding in the curls on the back of Percy’s hair, and Dick’s own tears leaving wet spots on Percy’s shirt.

“Oh my god,” He whispered like a mantra, voice cracking and breaking and he rocked them side to side. He pulled back from the hug, his hand holding tight to Percy’s shoulders and arms, and if confirming he was actually real and not some tangible hallucination. “How—how…what happened?”

“Long story,” Percy breathed, trying to get his lungs to keep the air it was taking in.

Dick grabbed hold of Percy’s head, his hands shaking as he cupped his little brother’s cheek, turning his head around looking for any scars or injuries he skipped over in his haste to hold him close. Percy wrapped his own hands around his wrists, grounding him where he stood. He needed to make sure this was real too, to make sure that Percy wasn’t dreaming and that he hadn’t fallen asleep on Jason’s chaise.

Red-rimmed blue eyes met red-rimmed green eyes before the corner of his mouth twitched downwards. He wiped away the wet streaks of tears on his cheeks, “I’m so sorry, Percy.”

“For what?” He asked.

“I was a shitty brother to you and Jason,” Dick confessed and it felt like a lump a built in Percy’s throat. “Neither of you deserved to be treated how I did, and I am so sorry. “

“No, it’s okay,” Percy shook his head. “I understand, I get it, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, Percy, it’s not,” Dick said. “I was an asshole. Point blank. No arguments—but I want to be better. Do better. For you, you deserve it.” Percy’s eyes began to well up with tears again, his own mouth contorting as the clench around his heart tightened. “And I know I’ll never be as good of a brother as Jason was to you, but I’d still like to try.”

Percy dove back in for another hug, pressing his face into Dick’s chest and his big brother held him tight. It felt like part of an impossible weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he could finally relax., knowing that he had someone in his corner, someone to support him when he himself can’t. Relief was the word he was looking for, secure was what he was feeling right now.

He felt so safe, and protected, and loved. Gods, he didn’t think he’d be held like this ever again.

And isn’t that a sad thought? To believe that he was never going to feel the same way he had with his brother ever again, to allow himself to crumble and break knowing that he had his big brother there to catch him and help him stay steady. That he had someone who’d stand up for him and with him no matter what.

He knows that Dick will never be Jason, no one could ever replace him or even hold a torch to the brotherhood they had with each other. They were each other’s best friend, their partner in crime—Jason was there for Percy even when there was no one there for Jason. But it was so comforting to know that Percy could have Dick be like that for him too, that Dick wants to be like that for him. That he was able to push aside whatever animosity he had, or still has with Bruce, to be better for Percy.

“Just…” Percy began, his throat dry from crying and his lungs stuttering in their attempt to even. “Just promise you’ll try to be there when I need you, okay?”

“Of course, Percy,” Dick answered. “Whatever you need, I’ll be there.”

“Promise me, say it.” Percy pulled away, his green eyes locked with Dick’s in a serious gaze. Last time someone had promised him something, they had only done it for a personal gain, not caring about Percy’s little heart in the process. Bruce had abused the fragile trust Percy had placed in his hand. He didn’t want Dick to do the same. But when Dick looked back at him, his pinkie finger outstretched towards him, something told him that Dick would never do that.

“I promise to be a better brother to you,” Dick wrapped his little finger around Percy’s, holding tight to him. “I promise to care, worry, and love you like a big brother should, like I should have the day Bruce brought you both home.” When Dick moved his finger away from Percy’s, he pulled him in closer and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, wiping away the few stray tears left on Percy’s cheek.

“Now, c’mon. Alfred made cookies, lets get some before the others.” He wrapped his arm around him, placing his hand on Percy’s opposite shoulder as he led them out of the library.

****************************

I promised, didn’t I?

PSA: BRUCE DOES LOVE PERCY. Percy is just blind and doesn’t see it, so in his mind, Bruce doesn’t care. (He does.)

Next installment is gonna have a little moment (a good moment) between Percy and Bruce that makes their relationship a little bit better. They don’t get a proper talk like this until later, but it’s something.

Thank you for reading!!!!

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[forthedancingandthethriving]

"You can't be serious!" Alexis Bian, the Red Minister, curses, slamming her fists on the table.

Behind a purple mask, green eyes narrow. "And if I am?"

Travis Wrede, the Blue Minister, pinches the bridge of his nose. "Adian.. Kaden.. please talk some sense into her..!"

Adian Rivas, the Orange Minister and Kaden Hull, the Yellow Minister, respectively, look at Travis and shake their heads. There was nothing they could do.

Zackary Moreno, the Green Minister, frowns. "Aite.. I don't get it! That girl is more trouble than she's worth. She's the whole reason Renata is like this!"

"I am well aware." Purple gloved hands closed a folding fan with a sharp clack!, making all the Ministers in the room flinch.

"Yet, she's valuable to the longevity of this nation."

Alexis scoffs, falling back into her chair and raising a hand. "Valuable how? As a battery? Definitely. I mean, do you see the-"

CRACK!

Alexis quickly covers her mouth, wide eyes looking towards the end of the meeting table. There, the Purple Minister had somehow slammed her folding fan through the wood, causing a large crack to splinter through the table.

The Prime Minister yanks it and dusts the wood chips off. "Tulip, as.. eccentric.. as she is now, is still very valuable. She was going to become the next head of the Orpheus Trading Company, and yet she now runs her own successful engineering business." She leans back in her chair. "On top of that, even if these changes have impacted our nation in both a positive and negative way, it's also impacted all of you in the same way."

A cold narrow of eyes came through the mask. "Or dare I bring up the Alar Incident?"

The Ministers in the room all avoided her gaze, sweating buckets. She huffs. "Exactly."

"However."

The room slowly began to grow icy cold.

"Should I find that any of you have sent letters to her, harassing her into coming to one of these parties.."

Aite Tyron, the Purple Minister, grips the edge of the table. "I'll have you arrested for conspiracy against the government and given the death penalty."

With that, the Prime Minister raises from her seat and goes to the door. "This meeting is over."

The door opens, and her heels click as she leaves.

"Fucking hell.." Kaden groans softly.

"Sometimes she gives off the impression that she's looking after Tulip spefically." Zackary frowns.

○●○

Heels clacking against the floor, and she narrows her eyes. Her feet ache, but it was dull. Something she'd gotten used to.. who knows how long ago.

She arrives at her office, but in reality, it's more like her home. She doesn't own a house, merely sleeping in a hidden room she commissioned.

Aite Tyron locks the office door behind her before scurrying over to the bookshelf. She pulls away some books and gently pushes a small panel of wood. It opens, and then there's a hand scanner. She places her hand against it, then pulls away when a ding comes.

The bookshelf slides, and she walks into the hidden room. Touching her hand to another scanner inside of it, the bookshelf closes, jostling the books back into place.

With a sigh, Aite slips off her heels and sets them by the entrance. She tugs off her mask and walks past a wooden table, throwing it onto there. With that, she also tosses on her long gloves. She gets to the bathroom and grips the sides of the sink, staring intensely into the mirror.

She then exhales and reaches up to her eyes. Carefully, she take out green contacts and sets them back in their containers. The Prime Minister then looks at the top of her head and frowns.

"My roots are showing.." She mumbles.. gently brushing her hands over the light brown, almost cream-colored roots slowly growing. She'd have to order more hair dye.

She takes off her dress and then frowns, looking at her reflection. Spreading from where her heart was were purple scars, almost like wireframe. They merely dully ached, never too bad.

Aite places a hand over her heart before sighing softly.

There was nothing she could do about it now. She needed to stop moping.

Shaking her head, she slips into a more comfortable t-shirt and sweatpants before heading back out to the living room of her private space. She plops down on the couch, turns on the TV, and grabs some blueprints.

"Now what the hell did they want me to approve?.."

A beat of silence.

".. I'd approve it if it didn't use the shiba inus side-eyes as a power source.."