#Ergonomic Chairs Features

[interiorergonomics]

Key Features Considered on Ergonomic Chair Selection

Back Rest: Mesh Fabric in Nylon Fiberglass Frame

Seat: Density Mold Foam Cushion Fabric Seat

Armrest: Fixed and Adjustable

Feature: Height Adjustable, Tilt, and Fixed Mechanism

Base: 320mm size BLACK nylon base

Casters: 50mm size BLACK nylon castor

Adjustable Seat: 100mm extended length BLACK gas lift

Explorer all the best ergonomic Chairs in Dubai

[gadgetgeniusinsights]

Razer Enki X Essential Gaming Chair

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (again, if you look extra closely), a lot of cussing (are we still surprised)

masterlist | part 1 (although ig this makes sense on its own), part 3 (i didn't plan this), part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

“What.”

It’s less of a question and more of a statement—a statement sputtered in the typically demanding way characteristic of the one and only Bakugou Katsuki.

The Bakugou Katsuki who happens to be your boss for a good (debatable) three and a half years now, who you also have to spend overtime with until who knows what time to discuss what’s become rocky employee relations in the Ground Riot agency.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion or irrational annoyance—both, really—before you quickly school your expression into a neutral one. You riffle through the documents rather absentmindedly, avoiding his gaze before shooting back with: “What do you mean what?”

“I meant,” he leans back on his office chair that you know he singlehandedly picked out for its superior ergonomic design because he’s meticulous like that, “what the fuck is wrong with your face.”

“Excuse me?”

Your retort is laced with more indignant anger than intended, but at this point in the night, you cannot for the life of you bring yourself to care about your tone. It’s been a long day, and you weren’t about to let your stupid boss make fun of your appearance, of all things.

Bakugou probably senses the significant change in your demeanor, because his eyes widen in surprise ever so slightly before he sits up and opens his mouth to explain himself.

“You’ve been looking like you accidentally drank spoiled milk for the past hour and the shit aftertaste isn’t going away.” He haughtily shakes his head, and it takes everything in you not to jump him and choke your boss.

To your disdain, however, he continues.

“It’s either you spit it out or I’m going to have to force you to tell me what’s wrong.”

You gape at him. Whatever you expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

As quickly as you can, however, you attempt to regain your bearings and at least try to seem nonchalant, clearing your throat as unbothered as possible to top it all off. “Well, working overtime to iron out office squabbles isn’t exactly my idea of a relaxing Friday night, thank you very much.”

He scoffs. “Bullshit.”

You almost get whiplash from how quickly you look at him. His brazen rudeness—which, right now, is worse than usual which is saying something, mind you—renders you incapable of saying anything aside from another winded: “Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Miss me with that bullshit, dumbass.”

You feel yourself heat up in irritation. “I thought I told you to stop calling me dumbass.”

“You’d rather I call you princess?”

At that, you break eye contact despite yourself, choosing to stare at his forehead instead. It’s still unnerving—looking at any part of his body, really—but it’s better than looking at him squarely and witnessing the smirk you know has taken over his unfairly handsome features.

Your voice is small, to your chagrin, when you reply. “That’s actually a lot worse.”

The man dares to bark out a laugh.

You continue to metaphorically choke him in your head.

“Okay then, dumbass,” he emphasizes the nickname and you are about 99% sure a pained expression is dancing across your face because Bakugou is observing you with even more amusement before his features settle into a look of seriousness.

“As I was saying before you missed the point entirely—I highly doubt you’re this bothered because of fucking overtime,” he eyes you cautiously before pressing on. “Something’s wrong.”

You don’t know if it’s the exhaustion of the week filled with workplace conflict, or the crushing news you received this morning in the mail, or the very fact that Bakugou, despite his roughness and the annoyingly persistent way he’s been poking at your mood like it’s an itchy scab, is looking at you with genuine concern—but you end up doing it.

You give in.

You feel the tears welling up in your eyes before you even get the chance to deny them permission to, and at the sight of them Bakugou sits up even straighter in alarm—and you don’t know what comes over you because you start laughing so hard, your hand shoots up to your stomach in an attempt to keep it from cramping.

“Oi.”

The expression on his face is so unbelievably baffled that you only end up cackling to yourself more.

It takes a few more minutes before the sillies are fully flushed out of your system and really, it only took you a glance at Bakugou to realize you probably looked demented just now.

Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, you quickly wipe away the tears in your eyes and muster enough courage to flash him a genuine smile.

To your delight, he flashes you one right back, albeit tentatively—one that is boyish and charming under the rather dim lights of his corner office.

Although he seemingly reboots to his default state because it’s immediately replaced by a frown and followed by: “You’re so weird, you know that?”

You snort and, before you can stop yourself: “Not as weird as my ex.”

At that, Bakugou’s entire countenance changes—he visibly stiffens in his seat and his eyebrows furrow in what you believe is confusion at the sudden mention of your past lover.

Bakugou says nothing, however, and so you take that as a sign to continue.

“Remember that meeting we had last March with Chef Asahi about our collaboration with his restaurant where I was late and you gave me shit for it? And when you asked I told you it was because I just got dumped over the phone?”

He gives you a curt nod, lips tight.

“Well,” you chuckle nervously, feeling embarrassed at your upcoming revelation, “I just found out that that ex is getting married in two months, and I’m invited.”

Neither of you says anything for the next—what feels like—hour.

Until Bakugou takes a sharp inhale, leans forward on his desk, and stares you down straight in the eyes: “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

He scowls at you like you’ve got a pea for a brain. “Don’t make me say it twice, dumbass.”

You frown at his hostility, your own bewilderment chipping away at your already thinning patience. “You’re not saying anything.”

Bakugou sighs, and he looks like what he is about to say next physically pains him.

“I’ll be your fucking date to the wedding.”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik

special shoutout to @he3v4n for reading the prequel to this and following thereafter--inadvertently making me check out past writing and get inspired to write this <3

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol.  Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night. 

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that. 

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break. 

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?” 

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around. 

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five. 

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much. 

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding. 

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd. 

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal. 

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time. 

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia? 

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend–

Ping! 

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts – and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart. 

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address? 

Ah, just like clockwork. 

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals – for more than you’d care to admit – to boot up. 

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give – pay – for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress. 

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion. 

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain. 

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?” 

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man – what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character. 

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man itself– or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some. 

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic – the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life. 

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well. 

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin. 

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness. 

 What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.” 

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue. 

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means. 

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!” 

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game,  you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different. 

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.” 

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night. 

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face. 

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker— then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.” 

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%....... 

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez— Huh?” 

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary. 

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever. 

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock. 

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?” 

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face. 

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter. 

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S 

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.  

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” 

Helplessly, you open your inventory next. 

Your jaw drops. 

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This– this can’t be real.” 

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this– this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada. 

Holy shit. 

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes. 

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?” 

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative. 

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks. 

..

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose. 

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut. 

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk. 

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC. 

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning – or until your battery dies, whichever comes first – you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.” 

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

[ninii-winchester]

Behind Closed Doors (Part 1)

Pairing : Boss!Dean Winchester X Assistant!Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: fluff, not proofread, and tbh I don’t even know where this is going.

A/n: new series (hopefully) First time writing an AU. Don’t let this flop please🙏🏻

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Dean Winchester is the CEO of Winchester Co. for the past four years. He’s the oldest son of John Winchester, the founder and owner of Winchester Co., a real estate business. His office corner suite on the top of the floor in the building with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city skyline. The décor is modern yet understated, featuring a large mahogany desk, plush leather chairs, and abstract art on the walls. Behind the desk is a sleek bookshelf lined with awards, framed contracts. A smart wall panel controls lighting, climate, and the room’s privacy settings.

On the top floor other than the CEO’s office is his personal assistant’s work space. It’s a sleek, efficient area with a streamlined desk equipped with multiple monitors for scheduling, managing calls, and overseeing the flow of appointments. The space is minimalist, with soft lighting and ergonomic seating, offering both a professional and welcoming atmosphere for visitors waiting to meet the CEO

“Good morning, Mr. Winchester.” Y/n said entering his office. Dean looked up from his computer and glanced at the woman standing in the doorway with a styrofoam cup in her hands. “Got you your coffee.” She said holding it up. The man nodded and she entered the room completely, moving to hand him his daily dose of caffeine, which has been the routine for the past four years.

Y/n reached his side and he took the cup from her hands gracefully and placed it onto the table before pulling her down onto his lap. Y/n gasped at the sudden pull and he grinned up at her.

“Good morning baby.” Dean leaned up to place a soft kiss to her lips. “You’re late.” He commented resting his hands on her hips.

“Sorry boss, my boyfriend is a bit clingy in the morning.” She replied with a mocking smile. “Acts like a baby doesn’t let me leave when I spend the night.” She added with a pout. Dean barked out a loud laugh and it was moments like these that he was thankful for having the whole floor to himself.

“Acts like a baby, you say?” Dean feigned curiosity. “Well tell him you’re my mine and I need you here on time.” Dean mock reprimanded her. Y/n rolled her eyes at his teasing.

Dean Winchester is a private man. He doesn’t like expressing his emotions or talk about his personal life. He’s a workaholic and is married to his work. He had been working at this company ever since he was in college. While perusing his degree in business he did part take in business matters, worked as an assistant for his father. He’d worked hard for this title and four years ago he was appointed at the CEO of the company when his father stepped down.

When Dean was appointed CEO, he clearly needed an assistant too. He confided in his best friend, Castiel. Although Cas also had a degree in business administration he was not interested in taking over his father’s business and was rather interested in charity work and philanthropy. Castiel had suggested Dean to appoint Y/n as his PA, since he knew her from college and she had remarkable skills as well.

Although Dean did appoint her on Cas’ insistence he was a bit skeptical of her skills she needed a ‘recommendation’ to get a job. For the whole year, Dean made her work relentlessly, putting her skills to the test and demanding a high level of performance to prove her worth. And she did. With her hard work and extremely remarkable skills she impressed Dean, more than professionally.

In a typical cliche manner, the grumpy boss fell for his assistant. Though persuading her was a challenge for Dean. She was hell bent on keeping things professional and not wanting to cross the boundaries at her workplace. She was a hard nut to crack but eventually Dean worked his charm on her, showing her beyond his grumpy boss personality and wooing her with extreme gestures.

Now the two had been dating for almost three years and the only person who knew about them is none other than Castiel, the one who introduced them. Even Sam was not in on the secret.

“Can I go back to work, now?” Y/n asked getting up from his lap but he kept his hold firm on her hips, not letting her leave.

“No.” Y/n pouted in response, she hated when he did this, holding her hostage while at work . She really wanted to keep her personal and professional life apart, not wanting anyone to find out or even think for a second she’s sleeping with her boss.

“Dean.” She scolded when he kissed her pouty lips.

“Relax sweetheart, nobody’s coming up here anytime soon.” He shrugged and she sighed loudly, indicating her defeated even if she was reluctant. “Besides, I’ve got news for you.” Y/n raised her brow in curiosity urging him to continue. “We,” he traced her arm with his finger. “are going on a vacation.” Dean beamed at her.

“A vacation? We?” Y/n furrowed her brows. “Who’s we?” She questioned, clearly not understanding the situation. Is this a office vacation or the top officers vacation or just the two of them.

“You and me. A week in Bahamas.” Dean replied casually.

“A week? You want us to take a leave at the same time? It’d rise suspicion.” She whispered alarmingly.

“Baby, if I’m on leave then you’re on leave automatically. Besides, I’ve asked Cas to manage for a few days for me.” Dean replied. “We both have been working our ass off for the past four years, I think we deserve a vacation.” Dean grinned at her and for the first today, she agreed without interjecting. She’s just as much of a workaholic as Dean. She had taken a day off here and there but never a complete vacation. “Besides I’m dying to spend some time quality time with my girl without her grilling me about work.” Dean sassed and she smacked his arm lightly making him laugh.

“I’m not gonna slack off at work just because I’m dating you.” She said matter of factly. “And I do think we could use a vacation.” She finally agreed making his smile broaden. “God, if anyone could you see right now, Mr. Grumpy Winchester.” She giggled when he rolled his eyes. He loved it when she teased him about being a grumpy ass to everyone else except her but he would never accept it in a million years.

The door swung open and sauntered in Castiel in the flesh. Y/n quickly jumped off of Dean’s lap but relaxed when she saw it was Cas.

“Ever heard of knocking, Cas?” She taunted her friend, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Ah lovebirds. Ever the cautious.” Cas sassed back and Dean snorted earning himself a glare from her. “Don’t stop on my account, just wanted to deliver these, personally.” He said holding up two flight tickets to Bahamas.

“Thanks man.” Dean said getting up from his chair and getting the tickets from his friend. Castiel shot Y/n a teasing grin and she rolled her eyes at him, clearly unbothered by his teasing. He thrives in teasing her because she was the goody two shoes in college and the two had become friends after being paired up for an assignment, so seeing a different version of her around Dean, leaves him anything but amused.

“You are a bad influence on the both of us.” Y/n said feigning an angry glare at Cas.

“Oh dear Y/n, I know.” Cas winked and Dean laughed at his best friends shamelessness. The trio’s camaraderie was a reminder of how personal and professional lives often intersect in unexpected ways.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

@thelittlelightinthedarkess @enamoredwithbella @winchesterwild78 @myuhh8

[itsmaferart]

SPY x FAMILY x CHAIR Vol. 7~8~9

SxF Vol 7 · Damian Desmond - Willow Chair

The Willow Chair was designed by Scottish architect Charles Rennie Mackintosh in the early 20th century. The chair was originally designed for use in The Willow Tea Rooms Company, a cafe and tea room that Mackintosh also designed in Glasgow, Scotland. The chair was part of a larger collection of furniture pieces designed for this company.

The concept of tea rooms was popular in Victorian and Edwardian times, and was considered a meeting place for the upper middle class.

The design shows a progressive approach to design, suggesting that the chair is at the forefront of creative thinking and is sleek, modern and curious. It stands out for its simplicity in geometric patterns. The chair features straight, minimalist lines in its structure, with curved wooden elements at the top to provide head and neck support.

A distinctive feature is its triangular backrest, which extends upward from the arms at an acute angle to create a sleek and elegant silhouette. The seat also features an elaborate lattice pattern, made from hand-woven wicker, which adds texture and dimension to the chair.

I’m Damian, scion of the Desmond family! I’ll be a politician one day and protect this country!

I love the way the dimension of the chair in disproportionate to Damian's body, who is clearly a kid with a very big precedent behind him, a very big ego and pride in possessing the last name Desmond, and it projects very well the way it makes Damian look more imposing for his age while giving you a look that continually judges you, adorably.

Damian is someone who projects himself from greatness, and his constant yearnings to be a recognized figure such as his family, even so, his childlike soul continues to exist.

However deep down, behind all the Desmond pride (Reflected in the chair) are his yearnings to really have fun and enjoy his childhood wanting to play with his balls, read manga, play with dinosaurs. He is definitely a little boy with a lot behind his shoulders.

SxF Vol 8 · Franky Franklyn - Eames Lounge chair & Ottoman

The Eames Lounge Chair and Ottoman were designed by Charles and Ray Eames in 1956, an American designer couple.

It was created from the idea of a "comfortable as a glove" chair, with an ergonomically molded seat and back shell combined with a plywood base. It was originally designed for the Herman Miller furniture company.

It was designed to provide comfort and relaxation, elegant and attractive that will complement any living space. The chair features clean, simple lines and a minimalist structure that emphasizes its elegance and ergonomics. The base is made of plywood, bent in several layers and smoothly polished to give it a smooth, refined finish.

Can we talk about how relaxed and cool Ostania's best informant looks? I love how the combination of this chair reflects Franky's relaxed but refined personality, a genius at his job even if often not properly appreciated. However, we can see his details, a bit messy, his taste for money, some good cigars, some confidential envelopes.

It's interesting when you remember that Franky seems to hate the handsome, moneyed show-offs who seem to be very lucky, even though he wishes he was one. He is simple and laid back, with a classy side and a profitable bottom line.

SxF Vol 9 · Becky Blackbell  - Coconut Chair

The Coconut chair was designed by architect and designer George Nelson in 1955 who was the design director for Herman Miller.

The chair was inspired by the designer's tropical landscape during his visit to the Fiji Islands. Nelson observed a group of children playing with one half of a coconut shell and realized that the shape and curve of the coconut shell could be harnessed to design a comfortable, modern chair. It was created as a highly engineered piece of furniture that offered a high level of comfort.

Although originally designed as a lounge chair, the Coconut chair is suitable for any space, from offices to homes. The stainless steel tripod base is an attractive design element, its fine details such as the apparent stitching on the upholstered

"You and I should be best friends"

I like how both the Coconut chair and Becky could be described as elegant, sophisticated, avant-garde and with a lot of personality. Despite her young age, we know that Becky has a very definite personality, sometimes with a very volatile and fanciful imagination.

Unlike many Spy x Family characters and their respective chairs, the elements are usually placed at the back or bottom with respect to the chair, always covered by some slight shadow, reflecting those elements that characterize the respective personality.

However, all of Becky's things are clearly displayed and stacked with bright colors. We know that it refers to all the riches and luxuries Becky has, as well as her passion for fashion and shopping.

But also, it's a way of expressing how authentic Becky is and how she's not afraid to show her true personality without having to hide it.

You can read the previous review here!

You can read the next part here

[givemeonereason]

Meditations: First Friend

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Photo Credit: Pinterest

Dragon Ball Masterlist Givemeonereason Masterlist

Rating: Angst

Plot: Piccolo has been missing and you’re the doing the actual missing. A friendly police officer seeks out to try and help you recover the missing link.

A/N: It’s about time I bring some other fellow DBZ characters into this.

They all interlink and play a part in each others lives. Also, this just felt like a very nice way to tie everything together.

I hope to bring at least one more character in during the next installment.

Don’t worry too much. We might see a reunion very soon.

╒══════════════════════╕

You looked for him out the window of your office those next few days hoping to see the white of his cape fluttering in the wind. However, he was never there. No matter how many time you check, and all the different times of the day, nothing.

Two weeks had passed and not one sighting.

You sat down in the company-provided ergonomic, rolling desk chair. It spun to the side. You let your feet dangle there limp.

The alien documentaries and fictional programs you've tried watching by way of research haven't really given you any closure. They just made you more frustrated considering that your alien, Piccolo isn't anything like they portray. It doesn't even give you any sense of how to get him back either. As far as you knew, there wasn't a spaceship to seen. At least, you didn't see one.

Is he really gone forever?

If you could just go back in time and change the outcome of what happened before. The day he carried you through the skies and you cried.

I'm not scared anymore.

I was caught off guard is all.

During your lunch break, you treaded up the hillside to where he usually sat. You could imagine him there still as a board with his eyes closed.

You stood there listening to the sound of the passing cars below and the birds above. You looked up to the sky searching for a place someone could fly to. And there was nothing.

"Piccolo!" No hesitation in your shout. "Piccolo, where are you?"

Someone on the sidewalk below stopped and looked up toward you. Some crazy lady screaming from a hilltop for her lost woodwind instrument? What on earth are they cooking these days?

My green alien guy.

You took out your phone and went to the internet and key searched "alien Piccolo." You saw lots of information regarding King Piccolo and his reign of tyranny and the World Martial Arts Tournament.

King Piccolo does greatly resemble the Piccolo you know. However, your Piccolo has softer features overall, but the sharp angles of his jawline and the point of his ears make him rather handsome. In an alien sort of way, handsome nonetheless.

"Excuse me, Miss." There was a gentle voice behind you. You pressed the screen of your phone against your chest hoping that whoever was standing there didn't see you staring down at the evil Namekian. It's not as if you were really looking at him, but rather imagining someone else.

"Yes?" You turned on a heel to address the voice standing behind you. You looked and saw no one at first, then your eyes darted down to see a concerned face.

When your eyes met his, he reached out a hand toward you. "Hello Miss, I'm Officer Krillin. I'm with the local police. There was a report of a woman shouting at the top of this hill searching for something. Are you alright? What is it that you're looking for? I can help you."

You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh from within your chest. "What I'm looking for isn't here anymore." You glanced up towards the sky, the white fluffy clouds spread across the horizon. There was a longing in your eyes, the way you lingered subtly before looking back down at the man before you and smiled. "I'm sorry to have worried you."

There is little to no point in trying to explain this to the police. What are you going to say, there is this alien named Piccolo that I met here and I don't know how to get in touch with him now. He's tall and wears a cape. Claims to be a Namekian. Like the police would know, or even care about that. The best outcome would most likely be institutionalism. They'll lock you in a padded room with nothing to eat but porridge and if you're lucky jello. At least that is the worst-case scenario, right?

You took a step forward to walk down the hillside, but the officer stopped you. "The concerned citizen claimed you were looking for an instrument. That you were yelling out towards the valley." He was looking down at his notepad. He pulled a pen from his pocket, pushing the top with a click, he jotted down another note. "I am going to need to file a follow-up report. Do you think you could tell me more about this, please?"

You didn't say anything at first. You called this. You knew if you opened your mouth it was all over. How could you word this in a way that didn't make you sound crazy? "Let's say I lost my piccolo." You sighed once more before continuing. "I haven't been able to find it in some time. I came to see it-- play it here on this hillside."

The man took diligent notes. "And do you think you can describe what this piccolo looked like? I'm not sure I've ever seen one up close and personal. Are there any particular identifiers?"

Raspberry. I'm not really a fan of the raspberry jello. If anything I hope I'll get the pineapple. Refreshing.

Well, this could go two ways.

I could speak vaguely about the actual Piccolo and confuse this man.

I could just be plain and say a regular piccolo that you rented from a nearby instrument shop.

Neither of them sounds the least bit good. So you chose to go for the first.

No wait, lime. Yes, it's green. Green like..

"It's green, white and purple. It's a custom, limited edition instrument."

"Green, white, purple." He recited back. "Okay. I'm going to have a look around the area to see if I come up with anything. I will take down your number as a follow-up."

Officer Krillin walked down the side of the hill with you. He jotted down your phone number on his notepad. "Don't worry miss, I'll do my best."

You smiled at him, your eyes hiding the hopelessness there. "Thank you, officer." You knew this would be a fruitless endeavor, yet you had to play your part. You waved goodbye before you walked back into the office building. Somehow you completely forgot you had to work for a living.

═══════════════════

Officer Krillin walked around the area, rummaging through the brush on the side of the road and looking into divots in the hillside.

He kept looking down at his notepad, repeating the notion over and over as he scouted the area.

“Green, white and purple…Green, white and purple….”

He stood on the sidewalk and scratched at his temple. “A piccolo that is green, white and purple.” He looked online at a photo of what a piccolo looked like. “Okay, so it’s little green, white and purple then. Just like this picture. Little, green, white and purple.”

He crossed the street and looked in the grass on the opposite side of the street. “Little, green, white and purple. Little, green…little green…..hmmmm.”

He stopped in his tracks, squinting his eyes as the wheels turned inside of his brain. “Little, green. Dende? I wonder how that little guy is doing? Okay, Krillin, she was talking about a piccolo. Little, green, white….piccolo…..PICCOLO!” He exploded. He laughed loudly at this own realization.

He walked back to his motorbike planning to go back to the station and investigate this further. “Now, I have been wrong before, but I just have a hunch she’s talking about our Piccolo. The real question is, how does she know Piccolo?”

His mind wondered how such a brute like him would come into contact with such a beautiful woman like you, let alone she was looking for him as if she wanted to see him again for some reason. It perplexed him.

Though, he pulled himself a hottie himself so anything is possible. If 18 could hear his thoughts now she would laugh, but she also chose him.

But what if there is business with Piccolo? What if something is wrong? She was yelling as the report was written.

He rode faster towards the station where he dropped off his bike and headed for the roof of the manciple building. “Well, there is only one way to find out.” He shot up into the air, flying straight for the lookout.

When he landed on the platform Mr. Popo was diligently pruning his garden. He paid no mind to Krillin as he hummed an offbeat tune to himself.

Dende rushed up to meet Krillin. The smiles across each other's faces were as wide as the horizon beyond the lookout. "Wow, Dende, you've grown so much! You're so much taller than me!"

Dende laughed and reached out to embrace the smaller man in front of him. "How are you? How is everyone?"

"We're all good." He nodded his head. He posed with a thumbs up. "I didn't come here to worry you. I was wondering where Piccolo was?"

Dende turned and pointed towards the building behind him. "I saw him inside."

"Thank you little green." He started off towards the entrance. He could hear Dende over his shoulder, a tinge of irritation in his voice. "Not little....."

"Piccolo?" Krillin called out as he walked the halls in search of the, he looked back down at his notepad again, limited edition, green, white, and purple, piccolo.

Piccolo walked through the threshold of a room meeting Krillin in the hallway. "Thank kami I found you." Krillin laughed, his hand behind his head.

Piccolo looked down at Krillin sternly. It's not always good news when he meets with Krillin. Sudden visits never indicate anything by trouble.

"Hey Piccolo, funny enough, I've been looking for you for hours." Krillin laughed once more. His cheeks red reminiscing at his own cleverness as a police officer. To some, it's might only be considered luck.

Piccolo tensed where he stood. His whole body became rigid. Though you would never be able to tell with his powerful aura. He braced himself for whatever was coming next. Something wrong with Pan? A new enemy?

"So Piccolo, you might not believe this, but I met a woman today who I think is looking for you."

When Piccolo's narrowed eyes didn't soften and he didn't respond, Krillin continued. "It's kind of a funny story actually. Someone came into the station and said there was a woman on a nearby hillside screaming out about a piccolo. I went to see her and she described what the....." Piccolo was already walking away from Krillin before Krillin even realized he was gone.

"Wait, Piccolo!" His small stature only giving him minimal distance towards the Namakian. "Piccolo! I think she's looking for you." Krillin caught up to him. "Do you think that woman meant you? She said the piccolo was green, white and purple." He pointed towards him. "Man, that fits you to a T. But I just don't know why?" Piccolo walks into a room that befits a lofty office. Krillin followed him into the room, stopping short of the large table strewn with books on it. "Why does she care so much about you?"

Piccolo's fist comes down hard on the table. The books quiver about the violent vibration. His voice is deep and pointed. "Would you give it a rest?"

Krillin takes a step backward. "Woah, man, I just thought there is no way what she said was a coincidence." He laughed with his whole chest. "In all seriousness, she did look worried. She said she lost it, well, you."

Piccolo turned away from Krillin. "Leave me be."

Krillin stood quietly for a moment. "What do I tell her then?"

"I don't care what you tell her," Piccolo responded flatly.

Krillin narrowed his eyes, and he felt a sudden sadness wash over him. "Oh."

He walked towards the door and turned back to look towards the Namakian. "Did something happen between you two?"

Piccolo barely looked back over his shoulder. He chose to only look at Krillin through his peripheral. "Even if she does want to see me..." He looked back forward, walking towards the bookshelf against an adjacent wall. "I don't think I can face her after what I did."

Krillin seeing an opening, "just go down and-"

"No."

His shoulders dropped. "Why?"

"I told you to leave me be." He closed the book with a snap.

“I—“

Piccolo whipped around, his cheeks reddened with anger, his chin tilted downward, and his eyes narrowed. He roared at Krillin. “LEAVE!” Which made Krillin witness his life flash before his eyes.

Krillin took off out of the room. A steady push lifted his feet into the air as he took off down towards the ground.

A slew of emotions rippling over him. Mostly the lack of answers leading his confusion.

I haven’t seen Piccolo so worked up in a long time. Why now, and why that woman?

╘══════════════════════╛

© 2024 givemeonereason

Don’t steal other people’s works! Respect creators!

Reblogs and likes appreciated :)

══════════════════════

Tag List:

@jadew-08, @sussybacca, @imaginarydreams, @oriistar

To be added or removed from the tag list reach out through asks or messages. Please and thank you.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

What if dragon beams look like flashlights on purpose so that if they’re found there’s an easy explanation, and the lowest power setting is so harmless it can actually be used as a flashlight so it can be demonstrated if it ever comes up?

Yeah, I've said before that I really like the flashlight-looking dracon beams from AniTV, so much so that I kept them for my own Animorphs fics despite them not being canon for the book series. We don't know a ton about the dracon beams from the books, other than that a) Jake immediately recognizes one as "a gun" the first time he sees one in MM4, b) Tobias has to use get his talon around a trigger guard to shoot one in #3, and c) Rachel quickly figures out how to use a dial to get to the low-power "stun" setting on one in #17.

Near as I can tell, the only official art of that design is a tiny subset of the #34 cover insert, showing a few hork-bajir-controllers firing them.

Other than that we get a few drawings of them in the comics, which look cool (and at least more alien than the gun design) but again not that comfortable for a variety of hands.

Anyway, I like the flashlight-style dracon beams from the show much better than the ray-gun-style ones from the books, because they seem both more stealthy and also more broadly ergonomic. My personal headcanon is that they're like those big bulky old-school flashlights even more so than the slender little ones from the show; those would be easier for gedds than humans to hold, which in my mind fits the bill.

That pistol-like design is a little too well-fitted for human hands for my taste; I like how much easier a flashlight-like design would be for tiny taxxon hands and giant hork-bajir hands and clumsy gedd hands to wield. It's a recurring theme in the books that Bug fighters are just awkward for humans to use; they're set up to accommodate up to three taxxons or hork-bajir, and so some features (chairs, ten-finger keyboard setups) had to be sacrificed to that goal. If a dracon beam's a big clumsy tube with maybe two buttons for a trigger and a power setting, then it feels more alien than a laser pistol does.

[dokkywokky]

i’m sorry why the fuck does your VR advertisement have a shitty horse statue for a seat????

this is actually a great time to talk about peripherals and ergonomics >:D

Okay, so; there are a few considerations to make when you’re buying any kind of gaming peripheral, regardless of whether you’re an arcade company or an individual user. These are:

1: What does it actually do?

Is this a stupid question? Not if you’re one of the thousands of people who bought a Kinect. Think about it like this: why would you *ever* fucking use a Kinect outside of specific games tailored to use it?

Let’s ignore all of the problems with it. In what possible scenario is a traditional game designed for play with a controller better-played using motion tracking? Differently abled people have peripherals that can accomodate for different numbers of fingers or amounts of hands &or hand mobility (M+KB is a tried and true method that realistically only needs a palm and finger to operate, maybe with a foot pedal system if you can’t reach WASD), so it’s not for that market. And it’s not compatible with other titles anyways unless you mod the damn thing. So what does it actually do?

It lets you play one, maybe two games. So what it actually is, is a large, complicated, expensive-ass access key.

2: Is it the best option for what it does?

VR gloves and sticks are more or less the best solution we currently have for ‘solving’ motion in a 3D simulated space, and even then, they can’t exactly move you around in your room for you (not without making your inner ear Very Cross with you). A horse is… certainly one option to direct your motion, but there are a few others.

Those that come to my mind specifically are harnessed movement discs, foot pedals, and basic-ass leg tracking. If you have none of these, well, then that’s why VR likes to use your arms as a movement indicator, or lets you teleport from place to place.

Now, out of all of these, which would you actually use the most in your general gamespace? Personally, I’d go for the leg tracking or the disc, and it’ll likely be around the same price as that stupid fucking horse. If we’re talking about motion simulation, then generally I would point at haptic suits as being more practical, or even a chair of similar construction to the horse, without the horse.

“But wait!” You say. “Dokky! Why no horse?”

Well, because…

3: How long can you use it before it hurts?

Innuendo kind of intentional. We *are* talking about toys and peripherals here. (Cough.) Anyways.

All peripherals (and ergonomic Things in general) need to be evaluated for their ability to harm the user, accidentally or intentionally. This is why most cars’ auto closing features are very finicky, for example (say, to avoid cutting fingers off. Eat shit, Elon). In this case, functionally, we are looking at a chair that can jostle the user around for possibly hours on end, on a horse saddle. Now. What kind of damage can that cause?

(Horse riders in the chat, you already know.)

We’re talking about a sore lumbar from repeated unsupported linear stress. We’re talking hip problems from a large splay angle. We’re talking leg muscle aches from holding them in constant tension. We’re talking posture issues from zero back support in a high stress environment. You know those bull toys that try to throw people off of their backs with zero support? This is literally that (probably toned down substantially). Why the *fuck* would you play a videogame while riding one of those? Most importantly, are you really signing up for a chiropractor in addition to the onboarding cost of the horse, let alone the game? If you’re an arcade, can you *afford* a fucking medical bill?

This is, unfortunately, the one scenario where those awful racecar seat gaming chairs actually make sense. Because, do you know what a racecar chair actually *does?* It buckets you against a cushion to stop you from falling out and keep you mostly comfortable. *That* is a better design solution to a linear acceleration chair, and frankly, I’m a little mad that I came up with it.

4: Conclusion

Just go ride a horse. Don’t buy old merry-go-round junk to try and cram into your room (there’s another one; how much space does it need for storage?), and for the love of Gods, think about your peripherals. Oh, and.

5: Happy birthday, @happyhydralisk (discord)

Happy birthday, Hydra.

[milkweedman]

HI! I'm buying a niddy-noddy but can't figure out what size - I'm seeing tons of sizes but does it actually matter? I spin using a drop spindle if that affects it!

Yes and no. You can wind your yarn into a skein on any size niddy noddy (or as I'm sure you know, on the backs of chairs, on your arm, around a book, etc) and it'll work just fine.

As far as I've ever been aware, there's only two things to consider when picking a niddy noddy size: how big your skeins usually are, and whether you want to do math.

Skein Size

If you've ever tried to wind what you thought was a decent sized chunk of yarn around a very large object, you've probably noticed that you ended up with a very disproportionate skein--long and skinny. Or the opposite--if you've tried to wind a lot of yarn around a small object, you may have found that you couldn't even fold it in half to finish it off, because it was too thick.

Those are pretty extreme examples, but they're the reason it matters. If you tend to spin small skeins, a small niddy noddy will make them look better as a skein. If you tend to spin huge skeins, a big niddy noddy will ensure you don't have to wrestle with your yarn at the end.

One thing to note is that you can wind around only two arms instead of all 4, like so:

(Image Source)

... following the path of the red line rather than the blue yarn actually on it. This is what I do for miniskeins on my average sized niddy noddy. So you can get a proportional smaller skein out of a bigger niddy noddy, but you can't get a proportional bigger skein out of a smaller niddy noddy. Your only recourse then is to split it into multiple skeins (or find something bigger to wind it around, ig).

So, my 2 yard niddy noddy (and since yards and meters are close enough to not matter in this discussion, please mentally substitute meters if that's your unit of measurement) makes a good skein out of 4 ounces (110 grams) of yarn--that's pretty much the ideal size niddy noddy for that amount. If your skeins are more like 2 ounces/55grams, a 1 yard niddy noddy might be ideal for you. If they're more like 6 ounces/170 grams, a 3 yard niddy noddy would probably be great. There are of course lots of niddy noddys that are fractions or mixed numbers of yards as well, which brings me to the other consideration:

Math

Niddy noddys are a little more ergonomic to wrap yarn around than most things, but their real feature is eliminating math. On my 2 yard niddy noddy, if my skein has 100 strands, then it's 200 yards. I never need to do any math--it's just count the strands, multiply by two.

A 1 yard niddy noddy is even better there--no multiplying ! The number of strands you have is the number of yards you have. Easy as pie.

A 30 inch/76 cm niddy noddy, though--or any niddy noddy that is not 1, 2, or 3 yards (if you are in the US, or meters elsewhere--and it's important to not accidentally end up with a yard niddy noddy if you don't use yards, because then you have to convert your final number into meters--which is of course math) is Lots Of Math. If I've got 100 strands on a 30 inch niddy noddy, that's 3,000 inches, which is... idk man, I'm not even checking that. 100 strands on a 76 cm niddy noddy isn't so bad--7,600 cm is obviously 76 meters, but what about 129 yards, hm ? What then ?

If you're scoffing and saying you love math and this deprives you of beloved math, then you should definitely get a non-whole number niddy noddy, because that won't cause issues for you. And if you carry your phone everywhere and can't realistically conceive of a scenario in which the above would inconvenience you, that's fine too !

If, however, you don't want to look for your phone or do math in your head every time you finish a skein, a niddy noddy in whole numbers of either yards or meters (whichever measurement system you actually use, as I said earlier) will eliminate math from your skeining.

--

So, in terms of size you as a drop spindle user (unless you use it in a way that results in 4 ounce/110 grams skeins) would probably get the nicest looking and most balanced skeins from a 1 yard or meter niddy noddy. And in terms of math that's also the 'absolutely zero math' niddy noddy, so for most people that's ideal ! You'd also be fine on a 2 yard niddy noddy (as far as I can tell, these are the 'standard' size for wheel users*, who almost all have niddy noddys or some other tool for winding yarn) but your skeins will look perennially skinny, even if it's a pretty big skein for you. If you think you're gonna get a wheel soon, or you've been eyeing those plying spindles, then a 2 yard would give you some room for expanding, too. Anything bigger than that is really only useful for people who frequently spin big skeins--such as those whose jumbo flyer on their wheel is just their everyday flyer.

Hope this helps !

*edit: had forgotten about the antique wheels with small bobbins and/or only one bobbin. In that case the appearance of the skein is gonna benefit from a smaller niddy noddy, because it yields smaller skeins. But again... it's just aesthetic.

[hardcoregamer]

Review: Sihoo Doro C300 Ergonomic Office Chair

Given its range of features, comfort and build quality, the Sihoo Doro C300 offers excellent value for its price point. My partner has used the chair too and it’s helped him with a lot of back issues his other chair caused. It’s a solid investment for anyone seeking an ergonomic solution without breaking the bank.

Read more!

[interiorergonomics]

Latest Future Proof Office Furniture in Dubai

Dubai’s future-proof office furniture is tailored to meet the city’s dynamic business landscape by;

focusing on adaptability

long-term usability like comfort and employee well-being.

It is perfectly designed with modular features, tech integrated and easily rearranged to accommodate new office layouts. What makes it cutting-edge is the ability to reflect Dubai's commitment to sustainability programs while staying versatility among workspace solutions.

Ergonomic designs also play a key role as they ensure employee well-being and comfort. Such office furniture is designed to adjusts and support various body types as well as working postures.

Read more to see which features are exactly making it standout when it comes to productivity in Dubai’s fast-paced work environment.

[republicsecurity]

Are you Ready?

With the positive stimuli reverberating through their consciousness, the recruits marched in disciplined unison towards the classroom.

The recruits, guided by their HUDs, marched in unison toward the classroom, the rhythmic clatter of their armored boots echoing through the sterile corridors. The HUDs deliberately introduced disorientation, recalibrating the recruits' sense of direction and spatial awareness. As they navigated the labyrinthine facility, the digital overlays on their visors flickered with dynamic arrows, constantly changing the perceived layout.

The recruits found themselves relying entirely on the visual cues provided by the HUD, each step a calculated response to the shifting information. The facility's architecture became an abstract puzzle, the familiar transformed into an enigmatic landscape. The instructors, observing from a distance, monitored the recruits' adaptability to the controlled disorientation, a subtle test of their reliance on the technology that bound them.

The recruits, their armored boots echoing in the clinical corridors, found themselves trapped in a seemingly endless loop of sterile hallways. The HUD, their guiding light, played tricks on their perception, leading them in circles, past familiar points that should have long been left behind.

The architectural monotony of the facility became a psychological challenge, a test of patience and adaptability. A five-minute walk stretched into an elongated 30-minute march, disorienting and perplexing the recruits. The instructors, hidden behind the scenes, observed the recruits' responses through the suit telemetry and AI reports.

The recruits entered the classroom, their armored boots echoing in unison as they marched to their assigned armrest chairs. Each chair, a sophisticated piece of technology, featured docking ports designed to seamlessly connect with the waste management system of the suits. The chairs, resembling a fusion of ergonomic design and utilitarian efficiency, were the recruits' designated stations for both comfort and maintenance.

As the recruits settled into their chairs, there was a symphony of clicks and hisses as the docking clamps engaged, securing the suits in place. The connection initiated a dual process – the waste management system efficiently extracted bodily waste from the recruits, ensuring hygiene and convenience, while simultaneously replenishing the suits with necessary resources.

The recruits, confined to their armrest chairs, received the subtle yet unmistakable message in their HUD. A glyph, an enigmatic symbol on their visors, indicated that their motor control had been disabled. They found themselves in a state of temporary immobility, unable to stand or move their bodies.

The instructors entered the room, their armored presence casting an imposing shadow over the recruits. The recruits, though physically restricted, could still move their heads and arms within the confines of their chairs. It was a deliberate imposition, a strategic choice made by the instructors to emphasize control and dependency.

Instructor KO10T addressed the recruits with a measured tone, "Today marks a pivotal moment in your training, as we delve into the intricacies of employing lethal force. This matter was broached prior to your Basic Medical Training, and it warrants reiteration now. By the tenets of the prevailing legal framework, you possess the prerogative to raise objections to this facet of your instruction. The law, in its unwavering language, affords you the right to dissent."

The recruits, their heads slightly turned within their armored restraints, absorbed the words. Instructor 6DG05, stationed nearby, scrutinized the telemetry data, monitoring the recruits' physiological responses to the legal discourse.

KO10T continued, the atmosphere in the room tense and charged with the weight of the impending instruction.

KO10T: "By law, you retain the right to voice your objection to this particular aspect of your training. However, understand that this objection may impact the both your individual development and your standing within the paramedic corps."

Instructor KO10T continued, acknowledging the unique status of the recruits as conscripts, "Let it be known that, as conscripts, you are safeguarded by the provision that precludes compelling individuals to act against the dictates of their conscience. The machinery of the law respects this fundamental tenet. If any among you harbors objections based on conscientious grounds, now is the moment to articulate them."

Instructor KO10T's voice resonated through the helmets, a blend of authority and a peculiar sort of empathy.

"We'll initiate a playback now, a stark reminder of the gravity of the path you tread. This is no casual matter. Once the video concludes, each of you will have a designated interval to reflect on your choice. This decision, my dear recruits, is the compass that will guide your actions in the field. It is not to be taken lightly."

The HUD flickered, and the recruits were immersed in a grim visual narrative, an unsettling portrayal of the use of deadly force in the line of duty. As the scenes unfolded, each recruit grappled with the weight of their imminent decision, aware that the path ahead demanded a conscious commitment to actions that could not be undone.

6DG05 monitored the recruits' physiological responses, assessing the impact of the video on their emotional and mental states. The telemetry data displayed a spectrum of reactions — heightened heart rates, increased perspiration, and various neural responses.

"KO10T," 6DG05 called out, "I'm observing diverse reactions. Some are displaying expected stress responses, while others seem more composed. It's intriguing to witness the distinct ways in which their minds grapple with the ethical complexities."

H2U8M's visor dimmed to black, cutting off the visual stimuli, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the voice of Instructor KO10T echoing in his helmet.

"In this designated interval, you are urged to reflect on your choice," KO10T's voice resonated through the confined space of the helmet, creating an intimate connection between the instructor's words and H2U8M's consciousness.

As the silence enveloped him, H2U8M's mind raced through the moral labyrinth that the video had presented. The weight of the decision pressed against the walls of his consciousness. In the solitude within the suit, he grappled with the ethical considerations of employing deadly force.

The distant hum of machinery and the rhythmic sound of his own breath became the backdrop for his contemplation. The stark reality of his role as a tactical paramedic unfolded in his mind — the responsibility to protect, the obligation to save lives, and the potential necessity to wield force.

The minutes passed, each tick of the clock echoing in the stillness of his thoughts. The neural conditioning, the sensory isolation, and the weight of the decision all converged within the confines of the suit.

Finally, as the designated interval drew to a close, KO10T's voice returned, breaking the silence that had enveloped H2U8M's consciousness. The visor slowly illuminated, revealing the training room once again.

"In front of you is a menu," KO10T's voice accompanied the digital interface. "This is your opportunity to express your consent or objection. Navigate through the options and make your choice."

The menu presented a series of questions and statements, seeking H2U8M's affirmation or dissent. The cursor responded to his mental commands as he moved through the selections. Each click of the cursor felt like a weighted decision, an acknowledgment of the path he was willing to tread in his role as a tactical paramedic.

KO10T's voice guided the process, a constant reminder that this was more than a mere formality. It was a pivotal moment, an assertion of his personal stance in the face of the moral challenges inherent in their line of work.

With each selection, H2U8M felt a sense of agency, a reaffirmation of his autonomy within the confines of the suit. The act of navigating the menu was more than a technical procedure; it was a declaration of his willingness to engage with the complexities of his duty.

As he confirmed his choices, the menu dissolved, and the HUD returned to its standard display.

The HUD blinked into emptiness, leaving H2U8M in a momentary void. The digital canvas that had been filled with choices and reflections now reverted to a stark blankness. In the absence of prompts, he was left alone with his thoughts, the residue of his decisions lingering in the virtual silence.

Meanwhile, 6DG05 diligently monitored the recruits' responses, the streams of data converging into a comprehensive analysis. As the feedback reached him, he relayed the information to KO10T, the exchange a seamless coordination between instructor and overseer. The report confirmed what they had anticipated – no fundamental rejections, no dissent that would impede the progression of the training.

"KO10T," 6DG05's voice echoed through the communication channels. "All recruits have navigated the menu without fundamental objections. We can proceed with the next phase of training."

The confirmation was met with a measured nod from KO10T. The recruits, their HUDs now darkened, awaited the next set of instructions.

he HUD burst into life once more, a canvas of digital information painting the next phase of their training. Lessons unfurled across the recruits' visors, delving into the intricacies of the standard rifle used within the paramedic corps. The virtual display detailed the specifications, components, and maintenance protocols of the small arms that would become an extension of their tactical paramedic identity.

In the dimly lit classroom, the recruits were ensconced in the glow of their HUDs, absorbing the wealth of information transmitted directly into their field of vision. The instructor's voice, modulated by the AI to convey a perfect blend of authority and guidance, accompanied the visual feast of knowledge. Each nugget of information etched itself into their minds, forming a mental arsenal to complement the physicality of the suits they wore.

The lesson on small arms unfolded like a meticulously crafted narrative, where the line between weapon and tool blurred in the context of their duties.

[iconicofficesposts]

Elevate Your Workday Comfort with Ergonomic Office Chairs in Dubai

In the hustle and bustle of today's modern workplaces, finding the perfect perch can be a game-changer. That's where Iconic Office Furniture swoops in with their ergonomic marvels, promising not just a seat but a sanctuary of comfort, health, and productivity. Let's dive into the world of Ergonomic Office Chairs and discover why they're the unsung heroes of the workplace.

Unlocking Comfort: Key Features of Ergonomic Chairs

Adjustable Bliss: Imagine a chair that adapts to you like a loyal sidekick. With adjustable seat height and depth, bid farewell to discomfort and hello to personalized support that keeps blood flowing and muscles happy.

Lumbar Love: Say goodbye to backaches with built-in lumbar support. These chairs are like a gentle hug for your spine, ensuring it stays in its natural curve and saving you from the dreaded slouch.

Armrests Ahoy: No more cramping arms or stiff shoulders. Adjustable armrests are here to save the day, offering support tailored to your liking and letting you breeze through those marathon typing sessions.

Cloud-Like Comfort: Bid farewell to sweaty backs and uncomfortable shifts. Our chairs boast premium materials like breathable mesh and memory foam cushioning, ensuring you stay cool and cozy all day long.

Finding Your Perfect Match: Choosing the Best Office Chair in Dubai

Body Talk: One size does not fit all when it comes to chairs. Consider your body type and size to ensure your chair provides the support you need to conquer the workday with ease.

Test Drive: Don't commit blindly! Take your potential chair for a spin before sealing the deal. Spend some quality time in it to gauge its long-term comfort and ensure it's the one for you.

Budget Wisely: While comfort is priceless, it doesn't hurt to keep an eye on the purse strings. Set a budget that aligns with your needs and priorities, balancing cost with features and durability.

While ergonomic chairs aren't miracle workers, they're pretty darn close. Investing in one from Iconic Office Furniture isn't just about a place to park your behind—it's about prioritizing your comfort, health, and productivity. So, why wait? Treat yourself to the luxury of ergonomic bliss and watch your workday woes melt away. Your back—and your boss—will thank you for it.

With Ergonomic Office Chairs from Iconic Office Furniture, Dubai's workspaces are transforming into havens of comfort and productivity. So, why settle for discomfort when you could be sitting pretty in the chair of your dreams?

[giantimpex]

Why you use this #pottyseat? How do our baby potty seat help potty train your child?

A baby potty seat is a specially designed toilet training tool that helps toddlers transition from diapers to using a regular toilet. It provides a comfortable, safe, and child-friendly experience, making the process of potty training less intimidating for young children.

Comfortable and Secure Design: Soft Cushioning: Many potty seats come with a padded seat to ensure maximum comfort for the child, making them more willing to use it.

Ergonomic Shape: Designed to fit a child’s body, providing support and stability.

Safety Features: Non-Slip Base: Rubber grips or non-slip material on the bottom to prevent the seat from sliding on the toilet. Handles: Some models come with side handles for extra security, allowing the child to hold onto something while sitting.

Ease of Use: Lightweight and Portable: Easy for parents to place on and remove from the regular toilet seat, and convenient to carry while traveling.

Available in All eCommerce Platforms Shop Now:

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[coworkingspaceinpune]

Elevate Your Workspace: Discover the Best Coworking Spaces in Pune

Pune, the cultural capital of Maharashtra, is not only known for its historical significance and educational institutions but also for its thriving business landscape. As the demand for flexible workspaces continues to rise, coworking spaces in Pune have emerged as the go-to choice for professionals seeking a dynamic and collaborative environment. In this article, we'll take a closer look at some of the best coworking spaces in Pune and how they can elevate your workspace experience.

Exploring Coworking Spaces in Pune

Understanding the Concept of Coworking

Before delving into the specifics, let's first understand what coworking spaces are and why they have become increasingly popular in Pune. Coworking spaces are shared workspaces where individuals from different backgrounds and professions come together to work independently or collaboratively in a shared environment. These spaces offer a range of amenities and services, including high-speed internet, meeting rooms, and communal areas, to support productivity and foster a sense of community.

Coworking Space in Pune: A Hub of Innovation

Pune's coworking spaces are not just about providing desks and chairs; they are vibrant hubs of creativity and innovation. These spaces bring together entrepreneurs, freelancers, startups, and remote workers, creating opportunities for networking, collaboration, and knowledge-sharing. Whether you're a solo entrepreneur looking for a supportive community or a growing startup in need of flexible workspace solutions, coworking spaces in Pune have something to offer for everyone.

Features of the Best Coworking Spaces

Location and Accessibility

One of the key factors to consider when choosing a coworking space in Pune is its location. The best coworking spaces are strategically located in prime areas such as Koregaon Park, Kalyani Nagar, and Baner, offering easy access to transportation, dining options, and other amenities. This ensures that professionals can work conveniently without worrying about long commutes or accessibility issues.

Amenities and Facilities

Another important aspect to consider is the amenities and facilities offered by coworking spaces. The best coworking spaces in Pune are equipped with modern amenities such as high-speed internet, ergonomic furniture, spacious meeting rooms, and fully-stocked kitchens. These facilities are designed to enhance productivity and create a comfortable working environment for members.

Community and Networking Opportunities

Beyond just providing a physical workspace, the best coworking spaces in Pune foster a strong sense of community and belonging. They organize networking events, workshops, and social gatherings where members can connect, collaborate, and exchange ideas. Being part of a vibrant community not only expands professional networks but also provides valuable support and encouragement on the entrepreneurial journey.

Frequently Asked Questions

1. What are the benefits of coworking spaces in Pune?

Flexibility: Choose from a variety of membership plans to suit your needs.

Community: Connect with like-minded professionals and entrepreneurs.

Amenities: Access high-quality facilities and services to support your work.

2. How much does it cost to join a coworking space in Pune?

Costs vary depending on factors such as location, amenities, and membership tier.

Monthly membership fees typically range from INR 5,000 to INR 20,000 per person.

3. Can I host client meetings at coworking spaces in Pune?

Yes, many coworking spaces offer meeting rooms and conference facilities that can be booked for client meetings and presentations.

4. Are coworking spaces suitable for remote workers?

Absolutely! Coworking spaces provide a productive and collaborative environment for remote workers seeking to escape the isolation of working from home.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the best coworking spaces in Pune offer more than just a place to work—they provide a supportive and collaborative ecosystem where professionals can thrive and grow. Whether you're a freelancer, entrepreneur, or remote worker, co working space in Pune offers the perfect blend of flexibility, community, and amenities to elevate your workspace experience. Take the first step towards unlocking your potential and join a coworking space in Pune today!