#solid wood bookcase

[artisanstales]

How to Match Your Solid Wood Bookcase with Your Living Room Décor.

A solid wood bookcase is more than just a storage solution—it’s a key design element that can enhance your living room’s aesthetics and functionality. Whether your home has a traditional, rustic, or modern style, choosing the right bookcase and integrating it seamlessly into your décor can create a sophisticated and organized space.

If you're looking for the best Solid wood bookcases price in United States, it’s important to consider how the design, color, and materials of your bookcase will complement your existing living room décor. In this guide, we’ll explore various ways to match your bookcase to your home’s style while maximizing both beauty and practicality.

Choosing the Right Bookcase Style for Your Living Room

1. Traditional Style

Traditional living rooms often feature rich wood tones, intricate details, and classic furnishings. If your space follows a traditional aesthetic, opt for a solid wood bookcase with ornate carvings, warm hues like cherry or mahogany, and elegant molding.

Best Choices: Dark-stained oak, walnut, or mahogany bookcases with crown molding.

Decorating Tips: Add antique bookends, classic leather-bound books, and decorative vases to enhance the vintage feel.

2. Modern and Minimalist Design

For contemporary interiors, a sleek and streamlined bookcase is the ideal choice. Look for clean lines, lighter wood finishes, and minimalist designs that blend seamlessly into a modern setting.

Best Choices: Whitewashed oak, light maple, or even black-stained wood with open shelving.

Decorating Tips: Keep accessories minimal—use monochrome books, sculptural décor, and greenery to maintain a crisp look.

3. Rustic and Farmhouse Charm

A rustic or farmhouse-inspired living room calls for a bookcase with a distressed or reclaimed wood finish. Open shelving, barn-style sliding doors, and weathered finishes contribute to a cozy, homey ambiance.

Best Choices: Reclaimed pine, distressed oak, or raw wood with natural knots.

Decorating Tips: Use woven baskets, ceramic pottery, and vintage books to add character.

4. Industrial Chic

If your living room has an industrial edge, consider a bookcase that combines solid wood with metal elements. Industrial designs are known for their rugged, functional aesthetics, featuring black iron or steel accents with rustic wood.

Best Choices: Wood and metal combination, dark-stained wood with iron framing.

Decorating Tips: Pair with Edison bulb lighting, exposed brick walls, and metallic accessories for a complete industrial look.

Matching Bookcase Colors to Your Living Room Palette

The color of your bookcase should harmonize with the rest of your décor while making a statement. Here are some key considerations:

Neutral Rooms: Opt for natural wood tones like oak or walnut to add warmth without overpowering the space.

Bold-Colored Walls: A light wood or white bookcase balances out deep blue, green, or charcoal-colored walls.

Dark Interiors: A whitewashed or pale wood bookcase can create contrast and prevent the room from feeling too heavy.

Maximizing Functionality with Smart Organization

Beyond aesthetics, a well-styled bookcase improves organization and usability. Consider the following functional tips:

Balance Books with Décor: Avoid overcrowding shelves with books. Instead, mix in decorative objects like vases, framed art, and sculptures.

Use Storage Baskets: Woven baskets or wooden crates help store small items while adding a rustic or cozy element.

Vary Heights and Layouts: Stack books both horizontally and vertically to create visual interest and depth.

Incorporate Lighting: Add small LED spotlights or fairy lights to highlight decorative pieces and create ambiance.

Shopping for the right bookcase involves considering both aesthetics and budget. High-quality solid wood bookcases come in various price ranges, depending on the material, craftsmanship, and brand. Whether you’re looking for an affordable option or a premium heirloom piece, knowing where to shop and comparing prices can help you find the best deal.

Conclusion

Matching a solid wood bookcase with your living room décor involves selecting the right style, color, and organizational elements to complement your space. Whether your home is traditional, modern, rustic, or industrial, there’s a perfect bookcase to fit your needs.

For those seeking high-quality furniture at competitive prices, Crafters and Weavers is one of the best places for the lowest Solid wood bookcases prices in United States. With a variety of elegant, durable, and stylish options, you can find the perfect bookcase to enhance your home’s aesthetic and functionality.

[murasaki-sama]

I return after a week to announce most of my property is destroyed.

There was a fire in the storage facility I use, back at the end of August. They did not let us have access to our property until mid-November, by which time the residual water damage was severe. I lost all my furniture, about 70-90% of my 700+ books collection, including the entire WOT (twice over as I had most in both paperback and hardcover), Queen's Thief series by @meganwhalenturner, the 25-30 Discworld by Terry Pratchett books I had thus far managed to collect, and a significant collection of Anne McCaffrey books. All ruined by mold and water warping.

And in the same week I also managed to kill my second computer in a year (or year and a half). So that was horrible.

Anyway, I have spent the last week trying to save clothing/linen, one or two small pieces of furniture that maybe survived, and the like 10% of books which have no mold (one box out of 13 remained completely dry) or only a little mold - including a gold leaf covered Torah from my grandpa, who passed several years ago.

Its been exhausting, and I still have way more work to do. So yeah.

That was my week.

How'd everyone else's go?

[napleonsolo]

Richmond Living Room Library

[rotationalsymmetry]

I realize this is kind of a swimming upstream opinion on tumblr, but I think "lighter but less durable" is actually a reasonable trade off for things like bookcases and sewing machines.

People move a lot, and also increasingly adult children live in smaller homes than their parents and don't have room to accept big things that are passed down. Something that's cheap and takes relatively get-able components to make and is going to be easy to take somewhere else...given the world is the way it is, that's better.

Specifically people complain about particle board a lot, and I get it, but I also have a writing desk from my grandparents that's solid wood and never gets used because it's heavy and the doors stick and it's just...awkward. It was made for a different generation with different needs. And the next generation might have different needs yet. Probably will, actually. We don't live in a time where it makes sense to buy furniture that's still going to be in good shape when your great grandchildren will hit adulthood.

And particleboard is basically made from industrial byproducts. It's cheap because it involves cutting down fewer trees to get it.

And yeah second hand stores and all. But space is more expensive than stuff in a lot of places.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

You Need Only Ask [professor!Marcus Pike x librarian!reader]

Read on Ao3

Pairing: History of Art professor Marcus Pike x art library reader/you (cishet female)

Tags/Warnings: Kind of pining idiots but only one is pining, everyone is being professional but it's clear that Marcus is a pining idiot, implied coworkers to lovers.

Summary: Professor Marcus Pike is one of those cliché absent-minded professors - or so you think, but maybe there's another reason why this brilliant academic is acting a dumb fool around you?

Words: 3,534

A/N: This was inspired by an ask sent to me by @just-here-for-the-moment for a fic ask game thingy. Here's the original ask and my reply. I didn't write it exactly like that (main difference is my fic is set in modern times), but I hope y'all still like it!

”Good morning.”

Your customer service smile in place, you look over your shoulder.

”Morning, Professor. Just give me a second and I will be right with you.”

He hums, and you turn back to the bookcase where you were just about to finish re-shelving returns. Once done, you join Marcus Pike, Professor of Art History, at the desk. He’s tapping his fingers, almost impercievably, against the surface of the old solid wood desk, and you stifle a sigh. He didn’t have to wait that long.

”What can I do for you?” you ask politely. Professor Pike is never rude, but he is the typical professor type: absent-minded, a little awkward, his research always the number one priority.

“I looked for this book in the online catalog, but as I suspected, you don’t have it. It’s probably sold out, too.” He gives you a piece of paper before both his hands disappear into his pockets.

“Another inter-library loan, then?” you state, looking at the title. It’s in French, and you know immediately that your library doesn’t have it. Professor Pike is not the most computer-skilled person, so you usually double-check every book he asks for in the database, but this one you know you don’t have.

“Might have to go international for this one,” you tell him. “Canada och Europe. That’s coming out of your department’s budget, you know that.”

“I’ll make room,” he shrugs, looking towards the door, like he can’t wait to get back to the comfort of his own office. “And could you please give me more time with the last one you got for me? I need it for a bit longer.”

“I’ll contact the lending library,” you nod. “I’ll let you know.”

“Great. Thank you.”

The “Sure thing” has barely left your mouth before Pike is out the door, the sound of his steps against the stone floor quickly disappearing down the hall. You shake your head before sitting down to look up the book for him.

As you work, you once again wonder how people like Marcus Pike get jobs at all. Someone as introverted as that would never have a real shot at getting a library job, which requires people skills, patience, and the ability to stand in front of people. But when it comes to academia, it seems like all you need is credentials and a good research profile, and you’re hired. Unlike you, who had to fight tooth and nail for this position. You have Master’s degrees in art and library science, educational and language studies, job experience, and it was still almost impossible to get this job. People who have these jobs never seem to retire but just sit there, year after year, until they eventually sprout roots that fasten them to their chairs.

But you’re here now, since five years, and while Pike’s predecessor never showed his face in the library but sometimes sent you cryptical emails requests that took you half a day to decipher, it’s nice to see that the much younger professor actually frequents the university’s special arts library.

Finally locating Pike’s book in a university library in France, you quickly find the instructions for ILL’s, and send a loan request. After that, you apply for more time for Pike’s previous book, and by afternoon, you have confirmation for both books: one will be mailed out later during the day in Europe, the other has been renewed. You let Pike know through an email, before performing closing duties in the library. Your computer pings just as you’re about to turn it off, and you see that it’s a reply from Pike. Clicking it up, you see the very unlikely response:

>>Amazing, what a service. Just bill the department, I’ve got it covered. Thank you so much 😊 <<

Shaking your head in disbelief at the informal tone, you turn off the computer, clock out, and go home.

Professor Pike is back two days later, now asking for a book that’s available. When you tell him so, he clears his throat, gaze flickering away from you.

“Could you maybe show me where it is?”

“Sure.” You’re curt, because this isn’t the first time. It’s an easy enough book to find, and every item in the library is labeled, and the database even has an interactive feature where you can click on the item’s call number to open up a layout of the stacks, showing the correct shelf in red. It has freed you up a lot now that most patrons can easily find their literature themselves, but some people just want you to do everything for them.

“You know, Professor, you could maybe my start of term library tour useful,” you dare to tease him as you walk before him to the right case. “Most freshmen find it very helpful, and they can usually manage their own information retrieval after.”

“I think maybe a little touch-up course would do me good,” he replies, voice a little tight. “But I like personal service.”

You find the book, pull it out, and hand it to him.

“That’s what I’m here for,” you tell him easily. “Anything else I can do for you?”

He swallows visibly.

“No, thank you.”

He uses the self check-out this time, and leaves quickly without saying goodbye. You shake your head, and catch the eye of Mandy, a Master’s student who works on her thesis in the library almost every day.

“Strange fellow, that one, isn’t he?”

She gives you a peculiar look. “I guess so.”

One thing that you appreciate a lot about your job is the building itself. The campus was built in Collegiate Gothic style in the middle of the 19th century, and compared to the nearby city library with its white surfaces, glass walls, and modern design furniture, the much quieter arts library still seems more alive. The library houses more books than one would think when first seeing it, and it has the charming nooks and crannies that are so common for old houses.

You’re standing in one of those nooks one day; an alcove that houses folios, a cart of tall books parked next to the step stool that you’re standing on. You hear someone enter the library, shout out a “Hello!” as you usually do to let patrons know that you’re in the stacks, and receive a low answer. Mindful not to hurt your wrists, you pick up another folio from the cart, and put it back in its place.

The sound of footsteps stops at the desk, and you pick up the next book.

“Be right with you!”

The patron moves again, slowly walking towards the corner where you are, as if looking for you. You turn your head just as you see Professor Pike come around the corner of a bookcase.

“Oh,” he clears his throat. “There you are.”

“Here I am,” you nod, picking up the next book. “Almost done.”

“I got your email about the book from France. They sent it rather fast.”

“I was surprised, too,” you admit. There’s one book left, and you really should get down from the stool, move it, and get up again, but you’re lazy. You reach, getting up on your toes, just barely getting the book into place when you feel the stool slip from under you. You gasp, a thousand thoughts rushing through your head during the split second you’re in free fall, and then you land softly, not on the floor, but against a corduroy chest, strong arms holding you.

“Shit, that was close!”

You’re tongue-tied, wide-eyed with shock, heart in your throat and going a mile a minute to make up for the missed beats.

“Are you okay?”

You slowly start to realize that you’re in the arms of Marcus Pike, who caught you when you fell from the stool. And he’s still holding you.

“Yeah, I, yeah, fine, I’m good.” You babble, moving uncomfortably to let him know to let you down, which he does with the utmost care. Your legs are wobbly, and Pike keeps a hand on your waist to make sure you won’t fall.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you now giggle, embarrassed but simultaneously exhilarated by the rush of adrenaline. “That wasn’t stupid at all, was it? I’ve been thinking about having that stool replaced, but I never got around to it, haha. I guess it takes an accident for me to get my thumb out of my a-, I mean, to get it done.”

Your cheeks are heating up, your hands are shaking as you grab the handles of the cart, kicking the accursed stool to the side.

“That was really scary, though,” Pike tells you in a low voice. “You could’ve really injured yourself.”

“Yeah, thanks, I mean, thanks for catching me.” You bite your lower lip and force yourself to look at him. “I’m so embarrassed. I should’ve been more careful.”

“Just glad I was here,” he shrugs, slowly following you as you march to the desk. “Although one could argue that had I not been here, you wouldn’t have tried to restack that heavy book without moving your stool. Sorry if I stressed you.”

“You didn’t,” you tell him lightly. “I sometimes cut corners like that. It’s fine, no harm done.”

You park the cart in its spot behind the desk, and turn to the shelf of reserved books.

“Here’s your inter-library loan. Due date four weeks from now, if you need it for longer, you know the drill.”

“I do,” he replies quietly and accepts the book from you. Holding it in one hand, he carefully opens it with the other, and thoughtfully browses through it. You sit down, flustered and still a little shaky, hoping that he’ll leave so that you can nurse your wounded pride, and maybe have a drink of water.

“It’s about these eighteenth-century art frauds in Europe – “

“I know. I read the title,” you cut him off, more curt than you meant to. Pike closes the book and nervously fingers the paper slip in it.

“You read French?”

“I even speak it.”

A smile breaks out on his face. “Of course you do.”

You stare at him, frowning as you try to understand what his deal is, and why he’s suddenly smiling like that. It’s never happened before.

And you’ve never noticed what a charming smile he has. It reveals a dimple in his right cheek that makes him look younger than he is – not that he’s old in any way, he must be around your age, somewhere between forty and fifty. The smile makes you even more shaky, and you can’t stop staring at him. He eventually notices, the smile dies down, and he lowers his eyes.

“Well, thanks,” he mumbles, turning around and walking away briskly, leaving you to stare after him, wondering what the hell happened.

Mandy comes in from her lunch break, waves a hello, then stops when she sees you.

“Is everything okay?”

You nod dismissively. “I’m fine, Mandy. I just… almost fell from a stool. But no harm done.”

She expresses her sympathies before going to the study area. You take a deep breath, and disappear into the back room for a glass of water.

There’s tittling in the stacks, but you don’t pay it any mind: it’s part of library life, especially on a campus filled with hormonal young adults. It’s not until your hear Professor Pike’s name mentioned that you stop writing on your keyboard, and strain to hear better.

“He’s the best lecturer here.”

“And he’s so fucking hot, don’t you think?”

“Cara! He’s a million years old!”

“No, he’s not, he’s like the youngest of the faculty, except for Langley, but she’s a woman.”

“Well, I’m bi, and she’s fine too.”

Shameless giggling ensues, and you have to stifle one as well.

“Wouldn’t mind doing some extra credit for Professor Pike…”

“That’s so tacky, Mindy.”

“Come on, like you haven’t thought about it.”

The girls appear from the stacks, carrying literature over to the self service check-out.

“I just think that his lectures are amazing. He can explain literally anything so that I get it. And he knows so much.”

You stare at your screen, but you’re listening to the students.

“He should lecture more, why doesn’t he have any classes?”

“Dug, because he’s a professor, he has other things to do.”

“I’d give him something to do…”

More giggling.

“I’m serious! I ended upw atching that Youtube lecture twice just because he’s so good!”

The girls borrow their books while talking, then nod good-bye to you as they leave. You nod back, then hit up Youtube, and type in Professor Marcus Pike.

You find a video of him giving a lecture on the history of art, and open it. And your jaw drops.

The man in the video is confident without being cocky, talkative, engaging, contact-seeking. He speaks clearly, even drops a couple of jokes, and he walks around the podium in the auditorium. If it wasn’t for that corduroy jacket with the leather patches at the shoulders, the one that you had enveloped around yourself last week, you wouldn’t have recognized the man.

You close the video and chew your lower lip. You always thought Pike was this nutty professor who didn’t know how to behave around people and preferred books to socializing. But the man in the video is nothing like that. So what is his problem when talking to you?

Navigating to Facebook, you search his name, finding him easily enough. He doesn’t seem to be very active, but his professional profile is listed.

His status is set to “single”, which surprises you, but you think no further of it. You click on to photos, finding only a few, most of them outdated.

“Good afternoon.”

You look up, startled at the familiar voice. Seeing Marcus Pike’s face, you close the browser window quickly.

“Sorry,” he quickly apologizes. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No worries, I was just… working.”

He clears his throat. “I’d like to return this.”

You accept the book from him, recognizing it as one of his previous ILL’s.

“Thank you.”

A couple of students come in, saying hello to both of you before disappearing into the stacks, phones in hand, library catalog probably open in their mobile browsers. Marcus looks after them, moving his weight from one foot to the other. You put the book to the side.

“Anything else I can do for you, Professor?”

He almost jumps at the sound of your voice.

“Um, no, thank you, I have to get back to work, grad student coming to see me, um, thanks, I’ll let your know if I need anything.”

He leaves the library, and you’re almost laughing. What the hell was that?

As soon as the students have found and borrowed their books, and you’re alone in the library with Mandy, she gets up and comes over to the desk. You smile your mild customer service smile at her, but she returns it with a wry grin.

“You know that he likes you right?”

You blink, not understanding. “Excuse me?”

“Professor Pike. He likes you.”

You shake your head to show her that you have no idea what she’s talking about, and she laughs.

“Oh, come on! The way he stutters and stumbles when he’s here. And he talks about you all the time, every chance he gets.”

“He what?” Your voice goes up, and you clamp your mouth shut. Mandy nods.

“He always tells us to use the library, and ask you for help. The librarian there is really competent, we’re lucky to have such a professional at our service, that sort of thing.”

“Why do you think that means he likes me?” you ask, cheeks heating up. This is stupid, this girl is half your age, and you’re talking like both of you are in middle school.

“Because he’s super confident in class, in meetings, whenever he talks to anyone, except you.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Hello!” Mandy rolls her eyes. “Earth to librarian lady! He’s like a flustered cinnamon bun whenever he’s around you – “

“Cinnamon bun?” you interrupt her, incredulously.

“Cutie patootie in old folk speech,” Mandy smirks at you, and you scoff.

“I know what a cinnamon bun is.”

“Whatever. He comes here constantly, doesn’t he? I sit here most days, and no other faculty member visits as much. He’s here practically every day, asking you the simplest questions. He’s into you.”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about, Mandy,” you mumble, hands fidgeting in your lap.

“Alright, if you say so,” she smirks. “But I know what I’d do if I were you.”

Later, when she leaves the library, wishing you a good weekend, you open up the browser window again, Pike smiling charmingly at you from his profile picture. You look at it for a long time before logging out, and getting up to reshelf returns.

Friday afternoon in the library makes for slow hours. It’s usually empty – even Mandy has left – and while it gives you the opportunity to prepare for next week, there are Fridays when you’d rather just close up, if you could, and go home early.

A quarter to four, when you’re impatiently tapping your foot for closing time, Marcus Pike shows up again. Mandy’s words echo in your head, making you nervous for the first time, but you manage to suppress that, instead turning on your professional persona.

“Back so soon?” you ask him lightly

“Yeah, I need a book.” He seems to understand himself how stupid that sounded.

“You’ve come to the right place.”

He tells you the title, and you look it up.

“It’s in, call number N5198-5299,” you inform him, then looking up at his hesitant expression. “It’s in the corner over there.”

“Um, could you show me? I’m not good at this.”

“Okay.” You get up and walk around the desk. “But it’s a class that you use a lot, Professor, you should be accustomed to it by now.”

“Marcus.”

“What’s that?”

“Call me Marcus. I don’t much like titles anyway.”

“Uh-huh.”

You take him to the right stacks, walking in between the heavy cases. It’s a tight squeeze, this one, and the book is located further in. You pick it out, and turn around, only to find Marcus standing right behind you.

You’ve been in this situation before, many times even. Worst times were when you worked in the city library, and creeps would crowd you between the stacks, not trying anything but coming closer than necessary.

Your heart misses a beat, but you’re not uncomfortable. Instead, you smell something familiar and comforting, something besides old paper, leather covers, and ink. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s Marcus’s cologne, the corduroy, his shampoo: earthy but fresh, a little like the forest after rain, but with an undertone of old leather armchair.

You wet your lips, and hold up the book he asked for.

“Your book.”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t take it, so you lower your hand. He clears his throat, but this time, he doesn’t look away, but straight into your eyes.

“I was wondering…”

“Yeah?” you breathe.

“There’s this classic movie festival this weekend, and I was wondering…”

“If I wanted to go with you?” you finish his sentence for him, as he takes too long for you to wait. He blinks, then smiles that sweet smile again.

“Exactly. Yes. Would you?”

“I’d like that.”

“Really?” The smile seems to broaden even more.

“Sure. Tomorrow?”

“Perfect. I can pick you up, if you want to. At six?”

“Perfect,” you echo, now smiling widely yourself. He exhales, like he’s been holding his breath this entirely time.

“Perfect.”

The desk phone rings, startling both of you. The book falls from your hand, and you look down at it, then up at Marcus.

“I need to get that.”

“Of course,” he nods. You make a little movement with your head.

“I need to get past you, Marcus?”

“Oh, yes, of course, sorry.”

He backs out from between the cases, letting you out as well. His cologne seems to rub off on your arm when you brush past him, hurrying to the desk. You answer the phone and try to focus on the person calling, take a couple of notes, and end the call just as Marcus comes walking to the desk, book in hand. You check it out for him, give him your number, and he smiles again as he thanks you. You follow him to the door so that you can close up after him.

“I’ll call,” he promises as he steps out. You nod, hand on the door handle.

“Looking forward to it.”

He raises the book as a farewell, then starts walking down the corridor. You’re about to close the door when you suddenly step out, calling his name.

“Marcus!”

He turns around immediately, and now that he’s standing with his back straight, instead of hunched over, you notice how tall and broad-shouldered he is.

“Yes?”

“For the record… you’re into me, right?”

He chuckles, his ears turning pink. “Yeah, I’m into you.”

“Just checking,” you grin. “See you tomorrow.”

[cyber-dump-171]

Prologue: Missing

Objection! Stand your ground! Marvelous! (Twisted Wonderland x Reader)

Masterlist | Chapter 1 →

Word count: 3.2 k.

WARNING: N/A

Note: thank you for stopping by and reading! Comments, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“Excuse me, coming through".

You walk down the dim corridor, the sound of telephones and mundane conversations muffled by the large window that separates the common office from the rest of the rooms. You take a quick glance inside and notice that it is emptier than usual, with only a couple of agents sitting at their desks filling out forms, watching the television broadcasting the evening news, or chatting with their cubicle neighbors.

You continue, carefully hugging the old box tighter as you slip past some of your father's co-workers, who greet you quietly before resuming their conversation, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and cigarette smoke clinging to their shirts wafting through the air. You're thankful it's not a stupidly strong cologne like the one James Blanc, one of the junior officers, wears. He puts on too much and it always makes you sneeze.

It reminds you of your male classmates who shower themselves in body spray after gym class, the smell making you dizzy as you sit inside the suffocating classroom.

After a few minutes of walking down the dull, gray hallway, you finally reach your destination, stopping in front of a worn wooden door with a silver plaque that reads a familiar name in faded letters: "Det. Pembroke”. Behind the doorway, you can hear a male and female voice, the latter sounding distressed, though you can't discern what they're talking about. Balancing the cardboard box on one arm, you lift your free hand and rack your knuckles against the solid material.

"Come in, door's open", replies a gruff voice after a couple of seconds of silence. Grunting and mentally begging yourself not to drop the heavy package, your hand quickly finds the handle and turns it urgently, the old wood creaking loudly as the door swings open, giving way to a simple yet messy office.

Tall rectangular metal cabinets and bookcases line the dark green walls, with various certificates and diplomas filling the empty spaces. On the right side of the room is a large display cabinet with various comic book figurines, knick-knacks, trophies and photo frames, displaying some of your family's memorabilia and achievements. On the opposite side of the office, under a rectangular window, is a wooden table with small drawers containing a small coffee pot and water dispenser. 

Your eyes sweep around the room and settle on your father, who sits behind a metal desk, with piles of documents, dirty mugs, a cup full of pens and pencils, and an old laptop taking up space on the surface. Behind it is a large map detailing the geography of your city, Kotohira. You take notice of several colored thumbtacks mark certain areas, though you can't see exactly where they point to.

He lifts his head to acknowledge your presence and his slender finger points to a table hidden in the corner of the room. “Put it there, kid. Careful with that, it's important,” you nod quickly at your father's words and head for the cabinet, pushing aside the manila folders to make room for the box. 

You place the package down with a quiet sigh, using your now free hands to wipe the dust from your button-up shirt, your legs burning as a reminder that it's been hours since you've sat down, too busy running errands and fetching documents around the station. 

Your father's eyes focus again on the woman sitting across from him, and he clears his throat as he continues. “Mrs. Enma, please don't worry, my men are working full-time to solve this case,” he reassures the woman, who nods silently at his affirmation.

Your gaze is drawn to the figure, an old woman you recognize as your upstairs neighbor who lives in apartment 305, Saeki Enma. You have bumped into her and her husband several times, either in the building's elevator or the nearby supermarket. It's strange to see her like this, with her usual warm smile and cheerful laughter replaced by a chagrined expression and puffy red eyes.

However, her reaction is understandable, as her only grandson is now the ninth person to go missing in the last month in Kotohira.

Saeki shakily reaches for her small black leather purse sitting on her lap, her small hands pulling out a beautiful baby-blue silk handkerchief, dabbing the corner of her wrinkled eyes to wipe away the rest of her salty tears. Her lips quiver as she looks down.

"Thank you, Detective Pembroke. My little Yuuken means the world to me, he's a kind and responsible boy. Oh my God... he must be so scared," she breaks down after glancing at the file in front of her, the picture of her grandson quietly staring back at her.

Her hands cover her eyes as her body shakes, the sound of her sobs echoing off the walls of the quiet office. Your father immediately gets up from his swivel chair and places a comforting hand on the old woman's back, while you run to the water dispenser, fill a glass, and hand it to her with a comforting smile.

Saeki accepts it with a sniffle, her trembling hands wrapping around the transparent glass as she sips in silence, her crying ceasing. A few minutes later, she calms down and sighs, gently patting your father's hand as a sign of gratitude. And suddenly, her eyes widen as her attention turns to you. 

"Oh my, (Y/N)! It's good to see you, what are you doing here? I apologize that you have to see me in this state," she laughs weakly, and you can still hear a hint of sadness in her voice. You suspect she's trying to distract herself from the grief of losing her grandson.

In return, you offer a small smile and a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Please don't worry, Mrs. Enma. It's good to see you, too." Your father suddenly slaps a hand on your shoulder with a toothy smile, causing you to jump in surprise as you turn to look at him in confusion.

“Kiddo over here had no plans for the summer, so I dragged them to the station to help out” - bullshit, you did have plans! You were going to spend every day inside, locked in your room with the air conditioning on, sprawled on your bed, and enjoying your free time. Hell, you'd even bought so many books and comics to read during the break! Now they're just going to sit there, gathering dust.

As Saeki finishes her glass of water, she lifts her head to look at the clock, whose hands point to the current time, 8:43 p.m. “My God! I apologize for taking up so much of your time, Detective Pembroke. My husband will be worried, I should be getting home,” she gasps in surprise. As you help Mrs. Enma out of her chair and pick up her cane, your father heads down the hallway, shouting for a nearby officer to help escort Saeki home.

In a matter of seconds, you hear a pair of footsteps running toward the office, and suddenly a young blond policeman stands in the doorway, nervously greeting your father. You remember that his name is Renart, a French cop freshly graduated from the police academy near Chichibugahama beach. The officers at the station call him "Croissant Surfer.”

Renart escorts Mrs. Enma out of the office, but not before she thanks your father again and gives you a warm smile as she bids you farewell. Your father promptly closes the door, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Nine people... nine people just gone," he whispers.

As you walk to the desk, your eyes scan the missing person's report. Yuuken Enma, a second-year student of Hibari Municipal High School disappeared this afternoon after leaving the Ishimoto gymnasium at around 2:30 p.m. He was reported missing by his grandparents who explained that Yuuken failed to pick up his phone and had never arrived home at an agreed hour.

According to witness reports, he was last seen by his fellow kendo club member and first-year student, Koito Saya. The two of them were training for an upcoming kendo match which would take place after summer break ended. 

Koito explains that Yuuken left practice early because "he was feeling unwell and he had to help his grandmother prepare some things for the Tanabata Festival.” The first-year student stayed in the gym for another hour of training, and when he left the facility around 4:00 p.m., he found a keychain from an action figure that belonged to Yuuken on the floor. Minutes later, the Enma's called the police station.

Your fingers grab the corner of the paper and turn the page to read some additional details about the case. This Yuuken boy... the two of you stood together at the bus station, but you never really spoke. You went to different schools, and his appearance and aura communicated that he didn't want to be bothered, so you left him alone. Besides, you're not the most outgoing person, so you never really made a move to befriend him. You only knew of his personality from the comments of neighbors and even your parents; a "charismatic and determined young man.” 

Your eyes land on an evidence report detailing the footage from the gym's surveillance camera. Your eyes widened as you remembered the conversation you overheard in the records room about two days ago about the recent missing persons cases.

According to the officer, all of the nine disappearances have been caught on CCTV, but you can never see who is taking them or where they are going because the recording always glitches.

He described in detail the disappearance of Fígaro Koskela, the young heir to a Finnish jewelry empire, who was walking home from a party organized by his classmates. He's alone, it's the middle of the night, he's strolling down an alley near some residential houses, when all of a sudden his head whips around as he hears a strange noise, the policeman describes the sound as that of a loud roar followed by a cry similar to that of horses.

Figaro's expression morphed into one of shock and bewilderment, paralyzed on the spot as his blue eyes did not look away from where the sound came. At that moment, the camera stops and the footage goes black. Suspiciously, the camera reactivated itself hours later as police arrived on the scene and neighbors peered out their windows and doors to see what was going on.

The officer explained that all the victims disappeared in the same way: they were alone in Kotohira, they heard something, and the camera footage went black, adding that the people who were near where the victims disappeared never heard anything strange. But he also points out that none of the victims have anything in common. Age, appearance, socioeconomic status, even where they live, nothing.

You're jolted out of your trance as your father clears his throat and walks past you, taking a seat in his chair, before turning to face you, the lack of sleep and stress evident due to the dark circles under his eyes. "From the looks of things, I don't think I'll be leaving the office anytime soon. Do you think your mom can pick you up?"

Normally, you would walk home, since the police station is not that far from the apartment building. That, and the night air feels good on your skin, plus, it gives you some time alone to think and take some pictures of the sky and wildlife.

However, because of the recent disappearances, everyone in Kotohira is on edge, including you and especially your parents. This morning, you even received some messages from a few of your school friends who were outraged because their parents wouldn't let them go on their annual trip to the beach for fear that their children would be the next victims.

You nodded at your dad’s request before taking the seat that Mrs. Enma had previously occupied and wasted no time dialing your mother's phone number. Frankly, you were tired and hungry, having accidentally skipped lunch to help the Chief's secretary organize a mountain of paperwork that needed to be archived. Seriously, these guys are a mess.

After a few dials, you hear the sound of the phone picking up and your mother's cheery voice answering from the other end. "Hello, honey! How's my baby doing?" you see out of the corner of your eye as your father chuckles, having heard your mother's cooing over the loud volume of the phone. "I'm fine, Mom. How was your case?"

You can hear your mother gasp in surprise before she giddily recounts the details of the latest case she took on. "Oh, you bet your ass I won it! You should have seen the look on that idiot Howard's face when they declared my client innocent. That asshole always takes the side of dirty money," you laugh lightly at your mom’s colorful words; she has had a fierce rivalry with Vanguard Legal Services’ best attorney, Howard Waltz, ever since college. They even work at competing firms.

Your mother spends a few minutes telling you more details about the case before asking you why you called her. You tell her about Yuuken Enma's recent disappearance and that your father won't be able to take you home due to the heavy workload. 

"Yuuken has disappeared!? Oh, poor thing, I hope they find him soon. Don't worry, darling, I just left the office, I'll be there in about half an hour," after exchanging a few more words, you hang up the call.

���•······················•✦•······················•✦

You hold your head in your hands, it feels like someone is violently sticking a sharp needle into the left side of your brain and your eyes won't stop throbbing. 'What the actual hell happened? I was doing fine a minute ago.’

Your father had left after the Chief knocked on the door and told him that they were going to have a brief meeting to organize a search party for Yuuken and share some updates on the case. Seconds after they departed and your dad bid you goodbye in case you were gone before he returned, your terrible headache suddenly appeared, and now you feel like you're going to throw up.

“O, thou who were guided by the dark mirror”.

"What was that!? Hello!?" you yell, the chair legs squeaking loudly against the floor as you quickly stand up, your eyes scanning the room trying to find the deep voice that just spoke. Your heart is beating fast, your breathing labored as your hands immediately find a fountain pen sitting on top of some papers, grab it, and point the tip outward to use it as a makeshift weapon. 

‘Are the rookies pulling a prank? Or am I hallucinating? Damn it! This fucking headache is driving me insane!’ You lower your head to look at the gap between the door and the floor, but you don’t see anyone standing outside or hear any movement from the hallway. Before you can continue to examine the room any further, your phone vibrates and the screen turns on, displaying a recent message from your mother alongside other notifications: "I'm outside." 

You waste no time getting your things, slinging the messenger bag over your shoulder, grabbing your sweater off the back of the chair, and throwing the pen away, landing behind your father’s chair. You're tired, you're hungry, you don’t want to deal with whatever prank somebody’s pulling on you, and you want to take care of this headache before it turns into an excruciating migraine. 

You make your way over the door, making sure you stomp your feet as hard as you can to warn whoever is hiding and pulling your hair, to start running before you catch them and kill them. You twist the doorknob and open the door quickly, only to find... the hallway completely desolated and eerily quiet.

This is strange... even if everyone was working, you would hear the noise coming from the offices, but, there is no sound at all. You can’t even hear the wind blowing outside or the droning songs from the cicadas. Your stomach twists into knots, a feeling in your gut screaming at you that something is wrong. You need to get out of there now.

“Let thy heart’s desire reflected in the mirror take thee by the hand”.

Yeah, no, this is no prank. Whatever's going on here is some paranormal shit. 

You don't waste a second as you bolt from your father's office, running down the hallway as fast as you can, never looking back for fear of something coming after you. You groan as your headache begins to worsen, your head now throbbing and your ears ringing loudly as you begin to hear a chorus of unintelligible voices inside your brain.

“In me. In them. In you.”

You pant as you run past the common office, your eyes widening as you find the entire room empty, all the equipment turned off and the chairs scattered around the room as if everyone had suddenly gotten up and gone home. The deep voice rings louder in your head again, its words feeling like mockery. ‘What the hell is going on? Where did everyone go? Dad, please be okay!’

“We all have very little time left.”

"AGH, JUST SHUT UP!" you shout, hoping the voices will go away, but they only get louder by the second. Thankfully, you reach the entrance of the police station, your eyes widening in relief as you find your mother's gray car parked right outside. Swinging the glass door open, you dash towards the vehicle, panic running through your veins.

"MOM! PLEASE! IT'S ME! OPEN THE DOOR!" you slam your right hand against the window as you yank hard at the handle of the locked car door. But as you duck your head to look inside the car, your breath is cut short and you feel your heart come to a screeching halt. The driver's side is empty, not a trace of your mother inside.

You slowly back away from the vehicle in utter disbelief, the voices having stopped, but you don't even notice, too preoccupied with the sudden disappearance of everyone around you. Your attention, however, is drawn to a hellish sound coming from your right. A loud roar, creaking wood, heavy wheels rolling on the pavement, and the whole cacophony accompanied by the cries of horses.

You feel frozen in place as your head turns to the side and your eyes widen at the sudden appearance of a funeral carriage drawn by two elegant horses coming at you at full speed. 

You want to run, to escape from this hellish scene as quickly as possible, to run into your parents' arms. ‘This has to be a nightmare. This isn’t real!’ Every single muscle and nerve in your body is screaming for you to move, and yet something is holding you back. You close your eyes in fear as the sound of hooves comes closer and closer.

You feel nothing as the carriage crashes into you.

“Welcome to Night Raven College, young soul”.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Tag list:

@rotknox

[nicatnite88]

This set comes with 12 new meshes and 2 recolors.

♥ double bed frame

♥ single bed frame

♥ wardrobe

♥ dresser

♥ coffee table

♥ bench

♥ desk (requires Horse Ranch)

♥ end table (requires Horse Ranch)

♥ bookcase

♥ wall shelf

♥ dining chair

♥ 2 tile dining table

♥ 3 tile dining table

♥ picnic table

All of them are colored in silverhammer's wood textures and they come in solid wood and wood with white accents. I hope you like it!

Download

SFS

Patreon

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

TLDR; I put up new curtains today as celebration for tackling the mould problem in my bedroom! I had to get rid of half of all my belongings but I am proud I got it sorted.

The mould apparently followed me and cropped up again after living in a damp riddled place a year or two ago. I lost most of my furniture, aside from the solid wood pieces that were thankfully undamaged, but when I moved I decided to keep the IKEA bookcase and desk, since they were only there for about 6 months and kept upstairs so should have been fine from the severe rising damp. I also kept my Nana's old bedside table, which had been affected by the mould and damp but cleaned thoroughly.

Sadly, fast forwards a year renting in my new place free from damp, and a bunch of mould showed up on that Ikea desk and bookcase, and half of the stuff that was on or in it.

So I've spent the last three weeks trying to go through it all, bin everything that wasn't too sentimental to try and save, and introduced the remainder to the mould-spray-cleaner-Gauntlet.

I tipped the furniture and scoured the rest of my room- to my dismay, the back of the bedside table was again affected, as well as more things that I kept under my bed, but had in the previous house been near the now affected furniture...

...leading me to gut the everloving fuck out of the rest of my room, getting rid of nearly everything I own that wasn't visibly clean and safely inside a plastic storage box already, clothing I could just wash, or far too sentimental to lose like my snake's ashes/urn and ceramic bird figures from my Nana.

Today I cleaned the wooden mirror, reorganised the cupboard and under my bed with everything I'm keeping, cleaned in plastic boxes, scrubbed the windows clean for a third and final time, got rid of the old curtains and put up new ones. I bought myself the Kingfisher ones I wanted years ago to cheer me up. They don't fully match my lilac walls but they're really pretty!

I have now to clean the carpet properly and then have one final piece of furniture to clean and empty, which is the second (unpictured) chest of drawers full of clothes, then I'm done with this entire fiasco.

I know no one cares but. I'm gonna talk to the void because honestly this is a massive weight off my shoulders, I've felt like I wanted to scream and cry every time I even went in my room because I was scared of it, but now I can breathe easy in there and it's starting to feel like mine again.

Once upon a time I would have buried my head in the sand and just started to sleep downstairs instead.

Now though I took steps to fix the problem- even though it's taken me a while with the fatigue, I did it, and I'm so much happier for it. The majority is done, the rest will be done by the end of the month.

I've gone from homelessness to nearly losing all I own from the house I found being uninhabitable. This place is decent, I'm about to move again for uni and so scared of all this happening again but. If it does I will tackle it.

I got this.

[artisanstales]

Trending Solid Wood Bookcase Styles for Modern Homes in the United States.

Solid wood bookcases have long been a staple in homes across the United States, offering both functionality and aesthetic appeal. As design trends evolve, so do the styles of bookcases, especially in modern homes where clean lines, functionality, and eco-consciousness play a central role. Solid wood bookcases, crafted from durable and beautiful hardwoods like oak, maple, and walnut, continue to be an enduring choice for homeowners looking to add both character and practicality to their spaces.

In recent years, the trends in solid wood bookcase designs have shifted towards more minimalist and contemporary looks, making these functional pieces of furniture much more than simple storage. Whether you're furnishing a living room, office, or bedroom, there are a range of modern bookcase styles to suit your taste. From open shelving to multi-functional designs, solid wood bookcases have evolved to meet the demands of modern living while maintaining their timeless charm.

Solid wood bookcases price in United States can vary significantly based on the design, size, and type of wood used. In this guide, we'll explore some of the most popular bookcase styles that are trending in modern homes and offer tips on how to incorporate them into your space.

1. Minimalist Open Shelving Bookcases

One of the most prominent trends in solid wood bookcases today is the minimalist open shelving design. With the modern push for simplicity and clean lines, open shelving bookcases offer a sleek and unobtrusive storage solution. These bookcases are designed with minimal hardware and often feature thin wooden frames that highlight the natural beauty of the wood. The open structure of these bookcases gives a sense of openness and allows the contents—whether books, decorative objects, or plants—to become part of the room's overall aesthetic.

Minimalist bookcases are versatile and can be used in any room, from living rooms to home offices. They allow the user to easily access their items without the bulkiness of cabinet doors or drawers, making them perfect for those who prefer a more streamlined look. Many minimalist designs are modular, meaning they can be stacked or arranged in various configurations to suit different spaces.

When choosing a minimalist open shelving bookcase, consider materials like walnut, oak, or ash, as these woods have a natural lightness that complements the airy, open feel of the design. Additionally, opt for a neutral stain or natural finish to maintain the simplicity of the piece.

2. Industrial-Style Solid Wood Bookcases

Another trending style in the United States is the industrial-inspired bookcase. Drawing on the aesthetics of urban lofts and repurposed materials, industrial-style bookcases combine the warmth of solid wood with the rawness of metal elements. The result is a bookcase that brings together the best of both worlds—functional storage with an edgy, contemporary vibe.

Industrial bookcases typically feature metal frames or accents, such as metal brackets, pipes, or legs, paired with solid wood shelves. This contrast of materials adds depth and texture to the design while maintaining a clean, modern silhouette. Industrial bookcases work well in spaces that feature exposed brick, steel beams, or other industrial design elements.

To integrate an industrial-style bookcase into your modern home, pair it with neutral colors like gray, black, and white. Additionally, using darker wood finishes like espresso or walnut can enhance the industrial vibe. For a more rustic feel, consider reclaimed wood bookcases that incorporate aged or weathered wood for added character.

3. Mid-Century Modern Solid Wood Bookcases

Mid-century modern design continues to be a highly sought-after style for contemporary interiors, and solid wood bookcases inspired by this aesthetic are no exception. Known for their clean lines, tapered legs, and minimal ornamentation, mid-century modern bookcases are often crafted from high-quality hardwoods like walnut, teak, and oak.

What sets mid-century modern bookcases apart is their retro flair combined with practicality. These bookcases often feature open shelving with geometric shapes and slim profiles that make them ideal for smaller spaces. The furniture design is also flexible, as it pairs well with both modern and traditional décor.

When looking for a mid-century modern solid wood bookcase, look for simple, elegant lines, and a balance of open shelves and drawers. A light wood finish or natural stain will keep the look fresh and airy. The neutral colors and natural wood tones will seamlessly complement other furniture in your living room or office, enhancing the room's overall design.

4. Scandinavian-Inspired Solid Wood Bookcases

The Scandinavian style has become increasingly popular in recent years, thanks to its combination of simplicity, functionality, and a focus on natural materials. Scandinavian-inspired solid wood bookcases emphasize clean, geometric lines and open shelving, often with light-colored woods like birch, pine, and ash. These bookcases are designed with an emphasis on simplicity and decluttered spaces, reflecting the Scandinavian values of hygge (comfort) and lagom (balance).

In addition to their minimalist design, Scandinavian bookcases often incorporate a mix of open and closed storage, offering versatility for both display and hidden storage. Some designs feature integrated storage compartments, such as drawers or cabinets, allowing you to keep smaller items out of sight.

To incorporate a Scandinavian-inspired bookcase into your home, choose a piece that blends seamlessly with a neutral palette of whites, grays, and soft pastels. The airy, light wood finish will work well in rooms that receive plenty of natural light, enhancing the room’s overall brightness and creating a calm and welcoming environment.

5. Traditional and Rustic Solid Wood Bookcases

While modern and minimalist bookcases are all the rage, traditional and rustic bookcases made of solid wood remain a timeless choice for homeowners seeking warmth and character in their space. These bookcases are often crafted from rich, dark woods like mahogany, cherry, or oak, offering a more classic and formal appearance compared to their modern counterparts.

Rustic bookcases, in particular, bring an organic, earthy charm to a room. They often feature distressed wood finishes, handcrafted details, and intricate carvings, evoking a sense of nostalgia and history. Whether you choose a more traditional style with ornate woodwork or a rustic design with weathered finishes, these bookcases add personality and texture to any room.

Traditional and rustic bookcases are perfect for spaces like home libraries, dining rooms, or even offices. To complement the rustic aesthetic, pair the bookcase with other traditional furniture, such as leather chairs, patterned rugs, and vintage décor pieces.

6. Modular and Custom Solid Wood Bookcases

As homeowners continue to seek flexibility and customization in their furniture choices, modular and custom solid wood bookcases have gained traction. These versatile bookcases allow you to build your storage system based on your needs, whether that means adding extra shelves, incorporating drawers, or even designing a completely bespoke piece. Modular systems offer the ultimate in personalization, allowing you to choose the size, shape, and finish of each component.

Custom bookcases can be designed to fit unique spaces, such as an alcove or under a staircase, ensuring that every inch of your home is utilized efficiently. This style of bookcase is perfect for those with large collections of books, DVDs, or decorative items, as it can be scaled to suit the storage requirements of your home.

Solid wood bookcases prices in United States can differ depending on the customization options and the type of wood selected. Custom and modular systems may be more expensive, but they offer the benefit of creating a truly one-of-a-kind piece tailored to your space.

Conclusion

Solid wood bookcases continue to be a popular and enduring choice for modern homes in the United States. With a variety of styles ranging from minimalist open shelving to traditional and rustic designs, there’s a bookcase to suit every taste and space. Whether you’re looking to add an industrial touch, channel mid-century modern vibes, or invest in a custom modular design, solid wood bookcases can enhance the beauty and functionality of your home.

If you're searching for the best deals on solid wood bookcases, Crafter's and Weavers is one of the best places for the lowest Solid wood bookcases prices in United States. With a wide range of styles and finishes, Crafter's and Weavers offers affordable, high-quality bookcases that will elevate your home's décor without exceeding your budget.

[meinkatz]

New items from Normann Copenhagen Available!

The Normies

The Normies are a fanciful family of decorative figures created in the intersection between the abstract and the figurative. These small creatures cannot be defined as a particular species, but one thing is sure: they are bubbling with personality and humor. The little family was born by chance during a design experiment in clay. Small figures emerged from the organic shapes and became a series of five individual characters: Normfred, Normus, NormNorm, Norma and Norm. The handmade models were then put through a 3D scanner and drawn up before being moulded in concrete. Each Normie has its own color alongside a strict, graphic pattern. The straight lines of the decoration contradict and challenge its organic contours, creating a pleasing divergence in form. Their eyes in particular give the Normies personality and life. Each of their expressive looks reflects a mysterious human sentiment, which can give life to many imaginative tales. Use them as a fun and cosy feature in your home; as a little buddy on your bedside table; or let the whole Normie gang get together on your bookshelf.

The Normies

Plank Collection

Crafted from full-length pine wood planks, as its name implies, the Plank Bookcase collection offers a simplistic storage solution with an honest and authentic expression. The storage collection features long, solid pine planks that accentuate the robustness, durability, and quality of the design. The utilitarian minimalism of Plank embraces a simple and uncomplicated design language, without the use of unnecessary details.

Plank Collection (Free)

Cellu Lamp Collection

The design is particularly characterized by its eye-catching proportions and classic references. The Cellu Lamp collection is a modern interpretation of the classic folded lampshade. The design has been brought into the present-day aesthetic with its PVC shade for enhanced durability, resting on a powder-coated aluminum column and powder-coated steel base, both designed with a distinctive, robust expression. The shade reveals clear references to the iconic pleated lampshades, an element that has been preserved while infusing the overall design with a contemporary, updated aesthetic that complements modern interiors. The base possesses a remarkably distinctive, enlarged expression, further emphasized by the striking and playful color combinations of the powder coating. Thus, Cellu is an evident fusion of the new and the old, beautifully composed in a design that draws references to both classic craftsmanship and new, modern design principles.

Cellu Lamp Collection

[galindathrop]

I'm having a dilemma. I've been wanting to get rid of part of my bedroom suite for a while now and replace it with smaller pieces. The furniture is 26 years old and has some scuffs and aging signs. Yes, these are kids/baby furniture designed to grow with the child and are convertible. The entire suite was expensive according to my parents and is solid wood.

The hutch (left): I use it as a dresser/misc storage/bookcase. The con is that it's huge, and I don't want to take it whenever I move out. If I get rid of this, then the dresser gets to be actually used as a dresser and not for storage. Another con is I would have to get a bookcase (with storage) and a bigger filing cabinet to replace the storage I'm losing. It's the only one showing signs of aging out of all my furniture with a broken drawer and backing.

The dresser (right): I use this basically as a filing cabinet/hoard area of things I'm told "not to throw away." The things in here could easily be condensed down and put in a real filing cabinet. The con is that it's tall and it's difficult to get things off the top drawer.

[breelandwalker]

Bookcase Repair

So I've got a question for my handy friends in the tumblrsphere.

One of my bookcases came with a weirdly split back panel when I originally got it. At the time, I was able to patch the panel and the bookcase held together for several years despite a slight sideways lean. (It's odd to me that the back panel was so shoddy to begin with, considering how expensive the bookcase, but it was a gift and at the time I didn't have the inclination or the wherewithal to fix it properly.)

Welp, the stupid panel finally split and the bookcase is now leaning so far to one side that the top two shelves popped off their supports. I've had to remove a good portion of my library to my desk while I figure out how to fix this.

The frame itself is solid and there's no damage to the rest of the piece, but I'm unsure how to go about repairing it. My initial thought is to measure the back panel, then hit up a hardware store and see if they'll cut me a piece of hardboard or several wide panels of appropriate length. Then I'd glue the back panel and hardboard or wood panels together, let it all dry, and nail the reinforced backboard to the bookcase to give it proper stability.

The only reason I'd be taking the extra step to glue the pieces together first is that the bookcase has a very pretty cherrywood stain and I'd like to preserve the cohesive look.

I tried looking for replacement back panels for bookcases, but they seem to be difficult to find, and I don't have the facilities to stain boards myself without them being damaged by rain or humidity.

Any suggestions? Am I on the right track here?

[itsscatballou]

The End Will Justify It All - Chapter 3

A Negan Series

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Warnings - not too much in this one. Adult themes and some language.

Feedback is always welcome! This series is challenging me for sure, and I'm loving it. Every time I work on it it gets a little longer and starts heading a direction that was unexpected even to me. I hope you'll hang in with me! I think it'll be worth it in the end.

Three days. That’s how long she’d been here. Three days of watching, waiting, learning. Three exhausting days of pretending to want to be one of them and taking advantage of every second alone to search for Daryl, which hadn’t been many. Between the dinners with Negan, and being stuck in the wives’ room, she had only had a few hours yesteday and today to explore. Three damn days in the enemy’s home and all she had to show for it was a wedding ring. Married to a monster.

She had searched every hall she could reasonably claim that she’d gotten lost in while looking her room, or the bathroom, or the kitchen, or whatever else she could think of. After three days, that excuse was losing merit - she should be more familiar with this place by now. Her heart was racing as she tiptoed, barefoot, down another empty hall of closed doors, quietly trying each doorknob. Locked. Locked. Locked. Leaning her ear against the doors, she couldn’t hear anything or anyone inside.

She tried the next. Another locked door. She was starting to lose heart; this hall was yet again a dead end. Would she ever find where they were keeping him? She twisted the next knob – locked. She sighed, glancing at the next door, when something caught her eye. Light. Two doors down at the corner of the corridor, streaming into the hall from…an open door? She flattened herself against the door in front of her, quieting her breath and listening for any sound of someone in the open room. After several minutes frozen there, she tiptoed closer, stopping every few steps to listen again. As she approached, she noticed a red chair against the opposite wall. It sat empty, facing the open door. Flattened against the wall at the edge of the door she paused one last time, before slowly creeping around to peer in.

The apartment before her was small. There was a sink and counters against one wall, a single bed, a chair, and a metal rack of clothes – mostly flannel button down shirts. No people. She ducked inside to get a better look. The apartment was well stocked. A toaster oven, a tv, lamps, a bookcase full of books, and she noticed a few potted plants. The furniture was well used, but slightly dusty. There was no evidence of anything personal in this room, nothing bought or collected like the other rooms she’d snuck into. No evidence anyone had been here recently. This room was waiting for an inhabitant, she realized. She was about to turn and leave when she heard footsteps coming around the corner. Low voices, male, were growing closer.

Her heart racing, she quickly surveyed the room again, this time searching for the best hiding spot. Under the bed wasn’t an option, the mattress was laid on stacks of wood crates. There were not enough clothes on the rack to hide behind. The cabinets on the wall were too small for her to fold into. The footsteps were getting closer, she only had one option.

She ducked behind the solid door just as she heard a voice greet the approaching steps. “Dwighty boy” she heard, and dread filled her. That was Negan’s voice.  He instructed someone to leave so he could speak with Dwight, and she heard rustling of steps outside the door. She squeezed in close and peeked through the crack of the open hinged door. Her heart stopped.

There he was. Daryl. Three days, not even a hint or whisper of him, and now here he was, less than four feet away from her.

---

She’d hoped when Negan had agreed on her first night to let her try out for the Saviors that she’d be able to ask someone about Daryl. Or that she’d be able to talk to any of them at all, learn anything about the place. She’d had no such luck.

She awoke on her second day in the Sanctuary hopeful and eager to start exploring. She dressed in the most practical clothes she could find in her wardrobe, and even asked the guard at the wives’ door for some boots. He’d obtained them for her, just in time to dawn them before… sitting. And waiting. And waiting. She asked him if she’d been sent any instructions on where to go or who to meet with about training or a job. He told her that her orders would come. So, she’d continued to wait.

The wives had pulled her into different activities in the meantime. Scrabble was a favorite of Frankie’s, and they introduced her to their “spa day” ritual, which she gathered was every day. Homemade face masks, manicures, makeup before dinner. It seemed expected of them to be beautiful, and at least it was a way to pass the time. Her impatience grew, however, with every hour that passed. Each wife often left the dorm to walk around the compound, getting some movement and some air, or smoke a cigarette. They seemed to have unquestioned access to wherever they needed to go. She took advantage of that when it was obvious that she wouldn’t be missed. She’d come up empty handed on those brief searches, and each time she returned, she’d asked the guard if her orders had come. He’d just shook his head.

By the time the instructions came for her to join Negan for dinner a second night, she was fuming.

She stomped into his apartment with as much attitude as her high heels would allow, her arms crossed, demanding to know why she had been cooped up in that room all day when he’d agreed to let her be part of a Savior team.

Negan’s answering smile didn’t meet his eyes, and it made her uneasy.

“Good evening to you, too,” he drawled, holding out her chair at the table for her. “Would you like to eat before you continue to rip me a new asshole, or should we do this on empty stomachs?”

She huffed as she sat and began piling her plate with the potpie in front of her.

“We’ve only been married for a day and you’re already angry with me?” Negan teased her.

She willed herself calm and forced an apologetic smile on her face. She needed to stay on his good side, throwing a fit this early might raise questions or make him change his mind about her access. She needed Negan to trust her.

“I’m sorry,” she began, “I have always had a quick temper. I told you, I’m not great at sitting around. I got impatient. I apologize.”

Again, his answering smile didn’t meet his eyes, but he seemed satisfied with her apology.

“I’d like to play a game to start our evening,” he said after a quiet few minutes of eating. “To get to know one another a little better. We are married now, after all.”

“What game?” she asked around a mouthful.

“A drinking game,” he replied, standing and walking to his bar cart in the corner. When he returned, he brought two shot glasses and a decanter of an amber colored liquid.  “I’ll ask you a question, and if you answer - honestly - you get to ask me a question in return. If you don’t answer, or if I think your answer is unsatisfactory, you take a shot and I get to ask another question.”

“I see. And do the same rules apply to you?”

“Sure,” he replied, mischief dancing in his eyes. “I take the rules of games very seriously.”

This made her nervous. She had no way of knowing what he would ask. She could always skip the question if she didn't like it, but too many questions skipped would certainly raise suspicions. She steeled herself as she took her last few bites of food, preparing for the worst.

When she raised her head, she found Negan watching her. She nodded and plastered a smile to her face.

“Sounds sexy. Let’s play.”

He grinned as he poured two shot glasses of the drink and slid one across the table to her.

“My first question,” he said, “is how long were you part of Rick’s group?”

She silently released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She felt a little relief at how simple the question was. She recounted the basic story of coming upon Rick's group in a small church in Georgia several weeks before they found Alexandria, and traveling with them to Virginia, looking for the family of one of their guys.

“How did you all find Alexandria?” Negan asked as her short story came to an end.

“I think it’s my turn for a question,” she teased him, “unless you want to skip that do a shot?”

He grinned in response and gestured for her to ask her question.

This was more pressure than answering. It was a good opportunity to get information, maybe even find out where Daryl is, if she could ask casually enough... She would have to be very careful how she approached it. She decided to start slowly, not too eager to get telling information from him.

“How many communities do you have working for you?” She asked, after some contemplation. Maybe a train of questions that make her seem curious about his operation would seem less suspicious when she got to Daryl.

“A lot,” he answered proudly, “I won't waste time counting them all. It’s a lot though. It has to be, to feed all our people.” A lot. There were a lot of other communities nearby. Potential allies. She filed that information away for later.

“How did your group find Alexandria?” He asked again, now that it was his turn.

“They found us. Their scouts had been watching us on the road. All but starved to death, desperate, and nearly feral. They took us in and gave us jobs. Have you always been the leader of the Saviors?”

Negan’s dark eyes stared at his glass for a long minute. She wasn’t sure he was going to answer, when he finally said, “No, but the guy before me was weak, he didn’t know what he was doing. It’s been me for long enough, and we’re all better for it. You’ve seen what we’ve become. I got us here.”

There was a pause as she took in what he said. He wasn’t wrong. She didn't really want to be here, but she had to admit that it worked. People were safe and fed, and there was a sense of order. Had she found this before Rick’s group, she wouldn’t have hesitated to become part of it.

“If you only got there a month ago, how did Rick end up in charge?” Negan asked.

“Who said Rick was in charge?” she countered.

Negan gave her a pointed look.

“It wasn’t on purpose, necessarily. There was an attack from some crazy outside group – not your guys. A bunch of walkers got past the walls; lost a lot of people - including the town’s leader. Rick is just the sort of guy that others follow, so the natural option was for him to step into the role.”

She hesitated a moment. “What’s your plan for them?” she asked, risking the question. Hoping it felt like an organic follow up. Negan drained his shotglass, not giving anything away. Damn. “What’s your plan for Daryl?” she was risking even more, now, but she wasn’t sure she’d have an opening again.

“I lost a lot of good fighters,” he answered. “I need more, and I like his spirit. He’ll make a great Savior once I wear him down.” She buried the dread that rose in her at his words and willed her heart to stop pounding.

Now his turn, Negan asked her “Who is Rick’s secondhand man?”

Realization hit her like a slap to the face. She should have guessed sooner his purpose for playing this game. She’d been blind, too focused on her own agenda to bother considering his. She’d have to be more careful about her answers now. If she revealed too much about Rick or Alexandria, she could put her friends in even more danger.

“All these questions about Rick…” she said, with a raised eyebrow and a hint of seduction in her voice, “I’m starting to feel a little jealous…” She took her glass and threw the shot to the back of her throat. She coughed a little as she swallowed. Whiskey had always done that to her.

Negan searched her face before grinning and continuing, “I would hate to have my new wife feeling neglected this soon. Tell me, what did you do before the world fell?”

“That's more like it,” she said with a slight curl of her lip. “Although a little difficult to answer. I worked a lot of jobs; I was putting myself through grad school. Took as many part-time jobs as I could.  I had two semesters left, and was already working on my thesis when the outbreak began.”

“Psychology,” she added, as she saw him start to speak again. He confirmed that was his next question with a slight nod of his head. “Same question to you,” she asked, settling back in her chair to keep the room from spinning. She hadn’t done a shot in ages, and her time on the road left her smaller than she ever was during her college partying era. Another shot or two and she wasn’t sure she could trust herself to answer anymore questions.

“I worked with kids,” Negan responded. “Gym teacher and coach.”

She didn’t try to hide a look of surprise, which made Negan chuckle. “I get that a lot when I answer that question.” She would have to work through that information later, figure out what that said about him as a person. The types of people who chose teaching positions… well, it begged the question what had happened to form him into... this? She didn’t have time to flesh that thought out as Negan launched into his next inquiry.

“You studied psychology, and you spent some decent time with him… if you were me, what would your next move against Rick be?”

Shit. She walked right into that one. How was she so off her game tonight?

She searched his face for a minute, took the decanter of whiskey and filled her glass. She met his glare as she gulped the shot down, stifling her cough this time. As she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, she said, “I left their group to join you, but I don’t hate them. I’ll follow orders out there, but you can’t expect me to plot against them in here.”

Negan chewed his lip as he studied her, narrowing his eyes. She waited for his next question or her dismissal. She hoped for the latter.

“If you were me, what would your next move against Rick be?” he asked again, a malicious tone encroaching his voice.

She filled her glass again, but Negan’s hand appeared on its rim, pressing it to the table as she tried to lift it. “I’d like you to answer this one.” He said, threat in his voice despite the polite smile he wore.

As she made to protest, he cut her off. “You see, you asked to be more than just my wife - which stung a little, I won’t lie. But I am a generous husband, I like my wives to be happy. They always did say, ‘happy wife, happy life.’ I’m not one to argue with an age-old adage, but in order to do that for you, to make you happy… give you a job, if that’s really what you want… I gotta know what value you bring. I gotta know if you can do more than just take orders - I have enough obedient dogs out there. You’ve seen the way they bow to me. I don’t need another dog. What I need… is a wolf. A wolf, or a wife. The choice is yours.”

She stared at him, working to keep the rage she felt from burning through her glare. Bastard.

“I’ll give you until dinner tomorrow. Come back with something good, and I do mean something impressive, or settle in as a stay home wife, dear. You asked what I’ll do with Daryl – I guess you get to make that decision. I’d like him to become one of us, but what I need is information, and if you don’t give it, then I’ll get it from him however I have to."

"You’re dismissed.”

---

She’d played that conversation over in her head too many times to count since returning to her room last night. She worked through all her options, even options that weren’t options. How could she live with herself if she gave him all her friends’ weaknesses? How could she live with herself if she didn’t?

Seeing Daryl now, slumped in that red chair, staring into the room she hid in - her heart broke. He was filthy, his hair a level of greasy that was bad even for Daryl. His eyes were cloudy, dark bags hanging under them like he hadn’t slept in days. She shuddered to think what could put him in such a state - her strong, tough Daryl. She knew he wasn’t breaking, but she couldn’t tell how much he had left in him. He was so ragged, so run down.

Her decision was made. She wouldn’t be the cause of more pain for him. She could never forgive herself for that. For him, she could turn into whatever she needed to be. For him, she could be a wolf.

They’d see just how much of a wolf she was.

[or13m]

Ink Wells and Dark Spells (batim) Chapter 009

An ink pen.

You were lying in a bed, the ink demon at your side, and dangling your tail above your face. Yours and Ink's were still twined together--a near constant situation since it just felt so natural now--so that you could study your boyfriend's spade tip. Yours was just a simple solid black heart while Ink's looked like a split triangle with a hole. It had taken you forever to realize why it had seemed so familiar to you. It strongly resembled the nibs of the ink pens that were scattered all over the studio. You had actually stepped on one a while back and cut your foot pretty good. Luckily for you, you were the equivalent of an old-school vampire but for ink rather than blood. Partaking from the demon had closed the wound quickly. You had learned to be more careful after that.

A soft huff escaped through your nose at the memory. If you hadn't healed up satisfactorily enough, you had no doubt that Ink would have picked you up and carried you around like a doll. Soft, steady breathing pulled your attention to said ink being as he slept beside you. It was a rare treat to wake up before Ink did. Even Bendy had a tendency to rise early, too much of a ball of energy to sleep in.

Now, it was your turn to be restless, too awake to even pretend to nap. You had no idea how many hours had passed since you'd gone to bed. Time was pretty meaningless here. You relied on Ink for the daily routine and he was still dead to the world.

Disgruntled, your eyes turned back to the appendages dangling overhead. An idea formed as you lay there. This was your best chance to get back at him for what he did. Gingerly, you closed your fingers over the nib-like tip, feeling the steady warmth flowing through it. Your eyes flicked back to your companion who had yet to wake. Without taking the time to chicken out, you stuck the tip into your mouth, face burning all the while. You didn't have long to stew in your embarrassment as Ink was quick to wake up from the foreign sensation.

Something tugging on his tail stirred the demon from his slumber. It was a normal enough feeling ever since he'd come across you while roaming around his realm. This time, however, there was a shock when something wet and warm closed over the tip. His eyes snapped open only to see you biting his tail.

He purred at the sight.

"Getting your revenge, little Mouse?" he crooned, still using his personal nickname for you. It felt more intimate than the generic "sweetheart". He also couldn't help but compare himself to a cat playing with his favorite prey. "I don't think it is having the effect that you were looking for," he continued, pushing his tail further into your mouth much to your surprise. In your panic, you spat him out, slapping a hand over your lips to prevent further shenanigans. He burst into laughter at your reaction.

The two of you were in Ink's safe room. Well, technically, everything in this inky realm was safe for the demon. No one could harm him and most were too scared to even raise a hand against him, but even the ink demon needed to rest. Sleeping out in the open was...not wise, even for Bendy.

It was a small room, barely larger than the king-sized mattress that had been stuffed into it. There were pictures all over the walls--a mix of old Bendy posters and original artwork--along with strings of Christmas lights giving off a warm glow. A bookcase encompassed one whole wall, shelves stuffed full of toys, sketchbooks, and other scavenged items. The only entrance to this room was through a hole in the wall, the actual door having been boarded up years ago. The hole itself was currently covered by a plank of wood, but it lead to Ink's throne room where reels of his cartoons would play nonstop.

"Why'd you do that?" you groaned, trying to understand why his attempt to gag you was making your stomach flip. The sound of cloven hooves tapping the floor told you that your ink beau had gotten up.

"I suppose we should take you on a date first," Ink mulled, pulling you off of the bed. He paused when he noticed your confused expression. His shoulders dropped and his grin faltered. Thinking back on it, he realized just how fully and completely INNOCENT you were. And it was just proven by the next words out of your mouth.

"What's a date?"

His tail flicked in mild annoyance, but not at you. No, never at you. He was more frustrated by the fact that you didn't have a clue what romance was. Bendy had shown you a few things from his show so you'd gotten the basics down with kisses, blushes, and gifts, but anything deeper than that was still an unknown enigma in your eyes. There had been one episode where the little devil darling was supposed to take Alice Angel out on a date, but it had never made it past the sketchboard artist before the studio got shut down.

"It's when folks who fancy each other go out and enjoy time together," Ink explained as simply as possible. He shifted the plank of wood keeping them safe away from the hole in the wall before turning back to hold a hand out your way. "Would you like to go on a date with us, little Mouse?"

[gvawood]

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