#as are armrests (and mounts for my rigid chair)

[wheelchairtetris]

truly having a secondhand wheelchair is just an endless cycle of repairs and upgrades

[themonkeycabal]

Do you have anything written with Peter/Spiderman yet?

No, sorry. Just one where Tony and Darcy are talking about him. I did write a thing where Darcy picks him up from school once, but I wrote that before Homecoming and he doesn’t sound right to me. 

I think I saw part of the Tony and Darcy one when I was tagging, but it was only like half. They’re arguing about the Sokovia Accords and Tony’s contemplating approaching Spider-Man. I shall post it for you if you like:

*

“They’re shit.”

Tony sighed and rubbed a hand across his jaw. “I don’t have a choice, kid.”

Darcy sighed right after him and lowered her forehead onto the table. “I know.”

“We’ll fix ‘em, but first I’ve got to get everybody on board. I know it sucks, I know they’re shit. But, damn it,” Tony snarled and thumped a fist on the armrest of his chair. “They’re going to go after Wanda.”

“Pietro?”

“Well, if he can ever breathe on his own again, yeah. Right now, he’s not a threat, but she is.”

“To the bad guys,” she said with a sour grumble.

“Sweetheart, not everybody sees things like you do. I wish they did.” He drummed his fingers on the table and twitched while he played a video file on the monitor mounted on the wall. “With the Inhumans, nobody’s thinking rationally right now.”

“Damn it,” Darcy muttered and raised her head to prop her chin on her hand. “I’m going to lose the fight on the Index issue.”

“For now,” he agreed. “For now we just have to keep everything from getting worse. I screwed up. I … screwed up.” He fell silent for a moment, but his nostrils flared and the lines around his eyes went tight. “But, I just need everybody to calm the fuck down, then …”

“But, if we set up something this rigid, then changing it’s gonna be hell.”

“Isn’t this why you studied Poli-sci? Isn’t this what you told me it was for? Working the politicians?” He shot her a tense, crooked smile. “I guess you’re up to bat.”

“Great.” She chewed on her lower lip and stared at the monitor. “So, who’s the kid?”

“I don’t know. You think he’s a kid?”

She scrunched up her nose and considered the video for a second and nodded. He was slender, but in a smallish, not-fully-grown way, rather than just a skinny dude. Like he was still growing into his arms and legs. “I think I want to steal his lunch money.”

“Yeah,” Tony said quietly, staring at the monitor and the figure in red swinging between two buildings in lower Manhattan. “Another damned kid.”

“Inhuman?”

“How do you tell from a distance? We’ve got a wackjob in red in Hell’s Kitchen — different guy in red. But, there’s that chick, too. The one who jumps. Weird shit going on over there. Stay out of the Kitchen, Darce.”

“Bucky lives there.”

Tony groaned and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “Damn it.”

“Hey, believe me, I don’t want to get into that. And I don’t want him involved in any of that shit, either. Mostly that feels like a mob war. I’m trying to get him to move to Brooklyn sooner rather than later.”

“SHIELD keeping an eye on that?”

“From a distance.”

“You?”

“Not me.”

“Good.”

“I’m good by not getting involved, honest. Besides the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen seems to be on top of it. Because that’s all comforting and shit. Let him and the cops handle it.” She thought of how that sounded, and winced a little. “It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that there’s so much other stuff going on.”

“Hey, we’re all spread thin.” He jerked his chin at the monitor. Grainy, jumpy ATM video of the red-suited kid dropping down off the side of a building onto a mugger. “Looks like we’ve got guys on the ground.”

“He looks like we should give him a sippy cup and a nap. Are you kidding?”

“He’s wearing a mask. You can’t tell that.”

“It’s his size, and how he moves. He’s young. Come on, you can tell.”

“I’m choosing to be in denial about this.” He flipped through a few more video files and pulled another up, the kid grabbing an out of control car before it could hit a dog-walker tangled in a half dozen leashes. “Strong.”

“Freakishly.”

“Hey.”

“That wasn’t judgmental. Geez, you’re sensitive today.”

“I think you’re right; that’s a kid.” He shoved his tablet aside, revealing a copy of the Daily Bugle; he slid it over to her. There was a distant shot of the guy on a water tower somewhere. The headline screamed 'Vigilante Menace Spreads to Mid-Town!’

“You want me to find him?” Darcy asked.

“No. I mean, yes, if you want to look for him. I’ve got Friday plotting a map of where he’s showing up most often. Mostly around Queens — Elmhurst, Rego Park, Forest Hills. He’s living somewhere in there.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t approach him. Let me.”

“If it’s a kid, maybe I’ll be less—”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he cut her off, “but I don’t want him on SHIELD’s radar yet.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, feeling a little stung.

“The Accords are on me, Darcy. Let me deal with this. That’s all it is, I promise.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“I’m not being like anything. You’re right. I don’t know what’s going on with SHIELD, so, that’s a good plan.”

“You’re still sticking?”

“I guess it depends on how this all shakes out with the Accords. Which are shit, by the way.”

“I know. I know they’re shit. What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. Sorry.”

“God,” he breathed out on a harsh breath. “No, talk to me. You’re the only person I trust to be rational here.”

“Everybody panicked. You panicked. They rammed these through. I don’t even know how they managed to pass them through all those committees so fast. That’s like, unheard of.”

“King T'Chaka is persuasive.”

“I guess. And everything I’ve ever heard about him says he’s a good man, not even a teeny-tiny whiff of scandal anywhere near him. So, I’m okay trusting him, but we know the WSC was compromised. Who’s to say this UN council won’t be, too? And even if it’s not, when we’re talking about something like the Dark Elves or Chitauri, are we all just supposed to sit there while some committee decides what to do? How many people will that kill?”

“There has to be a line, Darcy. We are not above the law. We are not … we can’t operate like this. We can be the response team, but we have to be in check, too. Or what? What’s to stop us the day we decided somebody’s a threat before they even do anything? Are we judge, jury, executioner? And we’ll just roll into any country we want, destroy cities, lives, in our drive for that rightness?”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m not. But, the way the Accords are set up, there’s no room to move in an emergency. And registration? God, I don’t like that. I just don’t like that. Why target individuals with powers? I’m pretty sure SHIELD will sign, but the problem is that then every individual powered person within SHIELD has to sign, too. And then every operation with a powered agent has to be submitted to review. What bullshit is that?”

“You’ll have to sign. I’ve had a request to disclose who has a suit — so you and Rhodey. I haven’t reported it yet, I can bury you, but if you’re ever spotted in it —”

“Don’t perjure yourself on my account.”

“Will you sign?”

“I don’t know, dad. I don’t know. Probably. Because you’re right, there has to be a line. The Avengers’ power needs to have a balance. I just don’t like the Accords, and I know we can change them, but I don’t like putting my name to something that’s starting out so deeply flawed. What am I agreeing to? Even if it can be changed?”

“I know.”

“The part about the Raft.”

“I knew you’d hate that.”

“Extraordinary detention? Where’s due process?”

“It’s temporary.”

“With Ross in charge? My ass it’s temporary.”

“I want it noted, I’m fighting his appointment. Jesus, I’ve had meetings on the Hill all week, and I’ll have more all next week. And then the hearings. Christ. I hate that town.”

“I hope you win, because he’s an f'in disaster all by himself.” She snarled a little and shook her head. “How does he still have a job? After Harlem and all that shit.”

“There are too many people who invested too much into him,” Tony said with a disgusted twist of his lips.

[ddp456]

“It’s quite simple, really...”

So, Wendip fans - I have good news and bad news.

Bad news first - My Wendip surprise has hit a snag.  (yes, again this year, too!)

I’ll give you all an update ASAP.  In the meanwhile, I whipped up this little yarn to serve as an appetizer until then.  Same deal goes as the last fic - if someone cares enough to make a cover art for this, I’ll throw it up on Fanfction.net as well.

Enjoy!

“This isn’t going to hurt, is it?”

Wendy Corduroy squirmed in the rigid seat.  The oddly-shaped helmet strapped to her head matted her poofy auburn hair against her brow, leaving it covered with beads of sweat.   Her eyes raced around the secret laboratory beneath the Mystery Shack as dials clicked and spun, machinery hummed in different decibels, and vials of unknown liquids slowly boiled and bubbled beneath their heated test tubes.

Huge libraries of hardcover research books decorated the walls next to the exit.  A spiraling stairwell led to another floor of boring-looking tomes. A number of end-tables and shelves displayed a lifetime’s worth of knick-knacks and souvenirs from untold adventures.  An old, chipped worktable sat at the middle of the room, filled to the brim with clutter and unfiled paperwork.

“Absolutely not!” Stanford Pines double-checked the computer monitor across from her.  He tapped away at the keyboard, inputting new commands at lightning speed.  “In fact, it might just do the opposite.”

Wendy winced confusingly, “T-Tickle?”  Her hands tightly gripped the sides of her chair.

Ford shook his head, “No, not that either.”  His harden eyes moved upwards.  “But don’t worry – we won’t be going anywhere near your feet, I assure you.”

Wendy’s freckled face turned white.  “Huh?! How did you know I was thinking – “

The scientist chuckled. “To be honest, you told me.”  He pointed to the giant video screen mounted behind Wendy.  “Part of the procedure is that your thoughts will be shown on this display.  The smaller televisions above it can provide collaborating videos and audio as well.”

Wendy turned around to see a series of green, flowing texts flying across the largest screen:

“HOW DID HE KNOW THAT? ISN’T THIS LIKE AN INVASION OF PRIVACY? HEY, AT LEAST I DON’T HAVE TO WORK NOW!”

The sound of laughter made Wendy switch screens.  One of the smaller ones played a somewhat faint image of Dipper and her wrestling around on her bed.  Wendy had her arm wrapped around his head as she gave him the ultimate noogie.  On the other end, Dipper had an orange-and-yellow socked foot in a death grip as he mercilessly tortured its sensitive underside.

“Say it!  Say that you give up!”

“NEHEHEHEH! Never!  You – You first!”

Wendy smiled briefly at the memory before turning back around towards Ford.  He silently watched the scene, itching his beard stubble with curiosity.  “Hmm…”

She forced an uneasy laugh out of embarrassment.  Ford’s silence only added to Wendy’s nervousness.  Her fingertips tapped the armrests of the chair as the helmet seemed tightened around her head.

“This is so freaky!  Why I’d even agree to this in the first place?”  

It had only been less than a half-hour ago that the teen had been sitting at her post at the Mystery Shack’s Gift Shop.  Wendy sat back on her stool, her shoulder-blades resting against the cracked wall as her mud-covered boots rested on the countertop.  Her nose buried in the latest gossip magazine. The world was peaceful and quiet until…

“A-hem!”

“Whoa!”  Wendy was jolted out of her zen.  Her balance lost, her arms flailed in mid-air until she slipped from her seat and landed hard to the floor.

“OW!”  She rubbed her sore backside as a hand reached out to help.

“Thanks, Dip.”  Wendy accepted the help back to her feet.  “You really scared the living – “

Her words faded as she was pulled upwards to meet Ford’s stern, broaden face.  He adjusted his cracked glasses with his six-fingered hand as he cleared his throat once more.

“Sorry about that.” Ford apologized.  “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind assisting me with an experiment.”

“Oh, okay…”  Wendy placed her fallen trapped cap back on her head.   This had been the first time the long-lost Great-Uncle of the Pines twins had addressed her.   “What’s up?”

“Not here…”  To Wendy’s surprise, Ford walked towards the vending machine across from her desk and dialed a combination of random numbers. A second later, the ground shook beneath her feet.  The machine itself slid away from the wall, revealing a hidden staircase leading deep into the earth.

“WHOA!”  Wendy’s green eyes grew wide.  She had heard Dipper mention something about secrets literally built into the Mystery Shack itself, but she never expected anything like this.

Ford walked down the steps as a series of lights hanging overhead instantly sprang to life.  “Now, if you’ll follow me, we’ll be at my lab – “ He paused, noticing there wasn’t a second set of footsteps behind him.  The elder spun around to see Wendy standing at the entryway with an unnerved expression.

“On second thought,” Wendy pointed towards the family entrance to the parlor.  “Stan – I mean, the other Stan, will probably need me to stay here at the counter…”

“Oh, please!”  Ford waved away in disgust.  “Stanley’s been asleep in his recliner for hours!  He didn’t care enough to put on pants today, yet alone properly manage a business!”

Wendy giggled and covered her mouth.

“I know things look odd and even scary. “  Ford held a hand against his heart.  “But it is dire that you come with me.  Your life, as well as that of your family and friends, may depend on it.”

Wendy’s guard dropped as the old man’s façade fell.  His frown twisted into an all-too-familiar tiny beam.  “Please…?”

“So, that’s where Dipper gets his smile from…”

Before she knew it, Wendy followed along the coat tails of the sage explorer down the staircase and onto an old-fashioned service elevator.  Ford threw a nearby switch, closing a gate shut behind Wendy, making her flinch slightly.  There was no going back now.

The elevator slowly descended down the shaft, its wheels noisily squeaking the entire way.   The landing violently shook beneath their boots.  An awkward silence filled the narrow passage.  

“So…”  Wendy broke the silence as Ford stared into the distance, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.  “I never would have guessed that something like this was hidden beneath the Shack.”

Ford nodded, “It’s actually ironic – your father was the one who designed and built this very cottage.”

“Get out!”

“I will – “  He paused and let out a nervous laugh, “I see.  You were using an euphemism.  My mistake.  But it’s true.  Dan Corduroy helped create what you now know as the Mystery Shack over 30 years ago.”

“Wow…”  Wendy absorbed her surroundings outside of the caged elevator. She looked on with a sense of pride, knowing that her family had lent a hand in creating such an extraordinary marvel. The redhead turned towards Ford. “Dad doesn’t about any of this junk, does he?”

He broke eye-contact. “Not...exactly.  Let me put it like this: your old man thought I was putting in one hell of a den.”

“HA!  Sounds about right!”

The elevator eased to a gentle stop.  They were now in front of a sturdy redwood door.  Golden marking wrapped around at the top and the bottom in half-circles as a jewel-encrusted keyhole lied in the center.

Ford reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a long, aged key.  He inserted it into the opening and rotated it tightly.  The door sprang open with a slow creak.  He opened an arm towards the new room shrouded in complete darkness.

“After you…”

Wendy’s body grew sore in thanks to the awkward chair given to her.  Proper posture wasn’t exactly her thing.  She couldn’t decide if it was the seat or the uncomfortable atmosphere that added to her anxiety.

“I know this guy is Dip’s uncle and all, but why do I feel like it’s one of my old B-movies, where he’s going to hit a button, and shackles are going to pop outta this thing and grab my wrists and ankles?”

“I wouldn’t be too worried.” Ford reassured the worried girl with a sly grin.  “I’m more of an “angry scientist” than I am a “mad” one, so I’m not exactly one to have deathtraps lying about the lab.”

“Huh?”  Once more, Wendy glanced over her shoulder, finding her fears displayed for the world to see.  She groaned aloud and pinched her nose in embarrassment.  “Oh, man…”

“Secondly,”  Ford walked to his desk and took hold of the roller chair placed there.  “Unlike my brother, I do recognize the fact that child endangerment and imprisonment is a serious crime in the state of Oregon.”

Wendy bit her lip to stop chortling.  Seeing her growing calm, Ford rolled the chair in front of her and took a seat. “And lastly, if anything, I asked you here for your own protection, Gwendolyn.”

“It’s “Wendy…” if you don’t mind, Mr. Pines.”

Ford glanced up at the large television for a split second.

“I HATE THAT NAME SO MUCH! WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS, MY MOTHER? I WISH I HAD A COOL NICKNAME LIKE DIPPER DOES.”

“My mistake, “Wendy.” Ford rubbed his chin with curiosity. “And I’d prefer “Ford” as well.”

“It’s a deal, Ford.” Her smile faded as she rubbed her hands together.  “Um, going back to what you said earlier.  This machine is supposed to “protect me?” She gently tugged on the black cord stemming from the helmet that led back to the series of screens. “And from what exactly?”

“Let me explain.”  The man sat back on his padded chair, much to Wendy’s chagrin.  “The machine that you are attached to is my own creation: Project Mentem mk-2.”

“That’s a mouthful!”

“You’re telling me. As that machine scans your mind, it will also shield it from being controlled by outside forces.”

“Outside forces?”

Ford leaned forward, “Have you ever heard the name “Bill Cipher?””

Wendy hesitated.  “Uh, I…think so…”

Once more, Wendy’s thoughts betrayed her as they ran across the computer screen for all to see.

“THAT’S THAT TRIANGLE GUY, RIGHT?  I THINK IT’S THAT TRIANGLE GUY.  HE��S THE ONE THAT MADE DIPPER ACT ALL FREAKY A FEW WEEKS AGO.  I KNEW SOMETHING WAS UP WHEN HE THREW HIS ARM AROUND ME AND CALLED ME “TOOTS.”  AND HE WOULDN’T STOP STARING AT MY CHEST.  EW!”

Ford placed his hands on the armrests of Wendy’s chair, missing her fingertips by inches.  His tone grew utterly grim.  “Bill Cipher is an interdimensional being, made of pure negative energy.  He lives for complete and utter chaos!  And he will not stop until he unleashes such horrors onto this very world!”

Wendy gulped, as another thought was splashed across the screen:

“I SAW THAT DRAWING IN DIPPER’S BOOK.  THAT CREEP DIDN’T LOOK SO TOUGH TO ME.  HE LOOKS LIKE SOME DEMENTED FLYING CORN CHIP.  I BET I COULD TAKE HIM ANYTIME!”

Enraged, Ford rose to his feet, forcing his chair back.  “THIS ISN’T SOME KINDA JOKE, KID!”  He marched back and forth across his lab as Wendy was helpless to do anything but watch. “Do you even know what you’re dealing with?”  He continued on lecturing.  “This thing destroyed his own universe without an ounce of regret!  He hunted me endlessly across countless dimensions and realities for the last 30 years!  He’s responsible for the demise of several civilizations, and you think you stand a chance against him?!  He’d destroy you in a blink of his eye!”

“I’m – I’m sorry, okay?” Wendy shut her eyes and turned her head. “I-I didn’t mean – “

Ford lowered his guard as his sights came across the master computer.  His heart sunk into his knees as he quietly read the thoughts displayed:

“I HATE IT WHEN BOYS FIGHT. I HATE IT WHEN BOYS YELL AT ME. IT’S LIKE HOW STAN AND MY DAD ALWAYS YELL AT ME.  I REALLY WISH HE’D STOP YELLING AT ME…”

He looked ahead to the teenaged girl shivering in her seat.  Ford opened his six-fingered hands, wondering if he was any better than the monster he was trying to defeat.

“Wendy…”  The scientist reclaimed his seat, but made sure to keep his distance.  “I…I apologize for my outburst.  But you have to understand, please; any matter that involves Bill in even the slightest capacity has to be taken seriously.”  He ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper colored hair.   “In the last few decades, I have born witness to the outrageous atrocities that he has committed across time and space.  It is something that no one deserves to see.  It is something no one deserves to fall victim to.  For that, I implore you again:  will you continue to help me keep not just this world safe from Bill’s influence, but my family as well?”

“It’s – It’s okay, man.” Wendy agreed with a shake of her head. “I’m still game if you are.  So, what’s the plan?  How can I help?”

As both persons calmed, Ford sunk back into his seat comfortably.  “You already have.”  He highlighted another computer monitor.  “As the Mentem mk-2 scans your thoughts, it has been applying a shield to your brainwaves. See for yourself.”

Wendy spun to her right, finding a black screen with bright, dark-green text displaying a progress bar:

SCANNING THOUGHTS – 35%

“Within a few minutes,” Ford clarified.  “The process will have scanned the entirety of your mind, protecting it from any possible threat from Bill.”

“Oh…okay, then…”

The two sat and peeked around the room without saying another word.  The only sound to be heard was the occasional blip coming from the progress bar.

“Hey, Ford?  Can I ask you a stupid question?”

“There are no stupid questions, but yes, proceed anyways.”

“Alright.”  Wendy itched the back of her slender neck.  “Why me? Why do you think this Bill guy would try to possess my mind like he did to Dipper?”

Strangely enough, Ford’s face lit up with interest.  “It’s quite simple, really.  I believe you would be the perfect selection for Bill simply because of who you are.”

“Who I am?”  A dozen new thoughts raced through Wendy’s mind.

“WHAT DOES HE MEAN BY THAT? IS IT BECAUSE I GREW UP HERE IN GRAVITY FALLS?  OR BECAUSE I WORK AT THE MYSTERY SHACK?”

“My mistake.  I shouldn’t have been so coy.”  Ford stood back up and began to pace with his arms tucked behind his back.  Another “Pines family” trait that easily reminded Wendy of “her boy.”  The adventurer paused for a moment, “It…wouldn’t be too forward to say that you and my great-nephew have grown close this summer, would it?”

Wendy found herself stunned for a split second.

“CLOSE?  OF COURSE WE ARE.    HE’S MY BOY.  THIS SUMMER WOULD HAVE TOTALLY BITE WITHOUT THAT LITTLE GUY.  AFTER EVERYTHING THAT WE’VE BEEN THROUGH, HOW COULD WE NOT?”

“Eh.  You could say that…”

“I see…”  Ford nodded along with both forms of testimony.  “But the question is how close are you two?”

The lower-right screen displaying Wendy’s heart-rate instantly spiked.

“Only a fool wouldn’t be able to see that you share a sort of…”  Ford waved his hand around in a circle as he attempted to find the correct term.  “…a special bond.  In fact, when Dipper sat in that very spot, you were a constant topic in his thoughts.

“Time out!”  Wendy tried to switch the conversation around. “Dipper had this mind-mumbo-jumbo done to him, too?”

“Not exactly.”  Ford confessed.  “There was an…incident when we attempted to use the machine on him.  It was only recently during some spare time that I was able to repair Project Mentem.   Hence, the mk-2 at the end.

“SO I’M THE GUINEA PIG TO SEE IF THIS HUNK OF JUNK WORKS?  GREAT, JUST GREAT.  MAYBE IF MY BROTHERS DIDN’T MESS AROUND WITH THAT UNICORN HAIR DIPPER GAVE ME, I WOULDN’T HAVE TO SIT THROUGH THIS.  I REALLY HOPE THIS DOESN’T BACKFIRE AND LEAVE ME WITH MY MIND WIPED LIKE WHAT THOSE BLIND-EYE JERKS TRIED TO DO TO US.”

Wendy gasped.  She forced a cheesy grin and pointed at the big screen behind her.  “Say, do we really need to have that thing on the entire time?”  The lumberjane gently tugged at the wiring binding her to the circuity.  “There isn’t a sleep mode or something we can switch on?”

Ford waved away her concerns.  “It is more than all right, Wendy.  I already know about the adventures you and Dipper have gone on these last few months.”

“You…do?”  A sense of unease formed in the pit of Wendy’s stomach as her fears turned to anger.

“THAT LITTLE DORK!  HE RATTED US OUT!  ZIPPED LIPS, MY BUTT!  JUST WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON HIM!  WHAT ELSE DID HE SAY?  WAIT. THE MACHINE.  WHAT IF THIS THING MADE HIM SQUEAL?”

Ford could see a new memory forming on the secondary monitor.  Wendy and Dipper were standing with Mabel on the top of the Mystery Shack’s roof as the sun shined high in the clear blue sky.  Meeting eye-to-eye, they each made a zipping motion over their lips simultaneously.

“Zipped lips, eh?” Ford noted.  “But nevertheless, I can assure you, Dipper didn’t betray your trust in any fashion.”

“He didn’t?”

“Of course not.”  The researcher went back to his desk and took an item with him before sitting down before Wendy.  “In fact, I learned about your journeys the same way he did about mine here in Gravity Falls: though documentation.

Wendy looked to see the all-too-familiar hardcover book marked with a golden six-fingered insignia lying in Ford’s lap.

“Hey!  That’s Dipper’s journal!”

“You mean my journal.”  Ford proudly patted the front cover.  “It makes this old man proud to see Dipper continuing in my researching the wonderful oddities inhabiting this town.”  He opened the Journal 3 and scanned somewhere towards the middle portion.  “You certainly had your hands full in the last few weeks, if I can say so.  It’s all right here:  ghosts in the convenience store, clones amongst party-goers here at the Shack, time-traveling shenanigans …”

“Uh…”  Wendy held up a finger to object.  “Kinda lost on those last two, Ford.”

“In that case,” Ford closed the journal.  “What about the fact that when I went to check on my abandoned bunker in the woods, every trap I had set had been disabled and I found the captive alien shapeshifter frozen in an effigy that looked exactly like Dipper?”

“Uh…”

“Plus,” he reached into his oversized slicker and pulled out a dainty-sized lumberjack’s belt and a sheath for a hatchet.  “I found these inside the bunker.  I believe they’re yours?”

An uncomfortable laugh sailed pass Wendy’s throat.  “You’re pretty mad about that, aren’t you?”

“Maybe at first, but after things came together, I was more amazed.  Especially by what was captured on film.”

“We were taped?!”

“Wendy,” Ford said.  “One does not hide thousands of dollars of equipment as well as one-of-a-kind alien technologies deep in the Oregonian woods without having some type of surveillance equipment at the ready.”

She shrugged.  “True that.”

“And don’t get me wrong; all of you kids worked wonderfully as a group to recapture the shapeshifter, but it was the brief period in which you two were separated from Mabel and Soos that stood out.  I could easily see marvelous examples of teamwork being displayed.  I think it can go without saying how well you complement each other.”

“Thanks, I guess…” Wendy went to scratch her head, finding it blocked by the massive helmet.  “Sorry if I seem rude, but what’s with all these questions about Dipper and me?”

“To be frank,” he explained. “I’m simply trying to fill in the blanks to a lot of uncertainties that I have.”

“Such as?”

“Perhaps, it would be best if I were more forward.”  Ford lowered his crossed leg and hunched forward.  “So, I’ll come out and ask:  what are your intentions towards my great-nephew?

Wendy’s brow rose, pinching the tip of her head enclosed by the helmet.  Her heart-rate monitor went into full-blown overtime.

“OH MAN! OH MAN! OH MAN! THIS IS LIKE HOW MY DAD GRILLS ANY BOY I BRING TO THE HOUSE.  THIS IS KARMA PAYING ME BACK, RIGHT?!  WHAT SHOULD I SAY? HOW – “

Unfortunately, the middle monitor provided the answer for her, as Wendy could hear her own voice playing through the speakers:

“But, I'm too old for you. I mean, you know that, right?”

Both watched the scene played out, as Wendy and Dipper sat on a log deep into the Gravity Falls Woods just outside of Ford’s hidden bunker, as she tried her best to calm his anxiety and over wrecked nerves.

Wendy lowered her head to see Ford still studying the screen with great interest.  His face reminded her of Dipper’s as she had left him wondering on that log as she rode away on her bike.  Wendy would give anything to be free of the embarrassing and awkward situation.

“Ford…”  The teenager struggled with her words.  “It’s not – I can explain…”

Her random thoughts spread across the main television at neck-break speeds.

“I WISH THINGS WEREN’T COMPLICATED.  IT’S NOT LIKE DIP’S A BAD GUY.  I HOPE HE UNDERSTANDS.  I HOPE I DIDN’T HURT HIM.  HE SEEMED FINE AT MOVIE NIGHT.  WHAT ELSE COULD I DO?  THERE’S NO WAY IT WOULD HAVE WORKED.  MAYBE WHEN HE GETS OLDER…”

At long last, Ford finally spoke, “Well, that explains a lot.  It’s not as serious as I thought.”

“Ford, you don’t understand – “

He looked straight at her and removed his glasses, wiping them off with his sleeve. “Let me tell you something,” Ford said without an ounce of emotion in his voice.  “The more the things change – the more they stay the same.  In Dipper’s case, it’s “you’re too young.”  For me, an entire lifetime ago, it was “Sorry, Ford.  But you have six fingers on each hand.  What would people think?”  He held up one of his unique hands for Wendy to see.  “So, believe me, Wendy, when I say I understand perfectly.”

Wendy remained completely silent as a single thought forced on the screen behind her:

“DOES DIPPER THINK THE SAME WAY, TOO?”

The strict professor put his damaged spectacles back on.  “But in all honesty, I am actually relieved by this revelation.”

Wendy shook her head in astonishment, “Wait?!  You are?!”

“Of course.”  Ford stood up, holding the Journal 3 in his right hand, and placed it back into a slot in his work desk.  “After all, you are only a child yourself.  I’d be shocked if things had played out any differently.”

The demeaning comment struck Wendy unexpectedly.   It had been a long time since anyone had referred to her in such a way.

“Oh…kay, then.  But I still don’t understand.  What does all this Dipper-talk have to do with me and that triangle guy?”

“That’s precisely the point.”  Ford walked back.  “It’s all related.  Other than myself, there isn't anyone else that Bill Cipher had more interactions than with Dipper.  Like me, Bill has invaded Dipper’s dreams on occasion, and went as far as to trick him into giving him control of his body.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that maybe with the exception of Mabel, there is no one closer to that boy than you, Wendy.  Over the last few weeks, Dipper has become more involved in my experiments and my research.  It’s to the point he’s serving as a pseudo-apprentice of sorts.  He now has knowledge that would allow Bill to conquer this world with ease.”

“Jeez…”

“…is quite the understatement.  For this, I believe that if Bill couldn’t possess Dipper, he wouldn’t hesitate to use those closest to him as a bargaining chip.  For some reason, he doesn’t bother Mabel.  Maybe her dreams are so chaotic, they frightened even him. That leads me to believe that…”

“…he’d come for me instead.” Wendy finished.  “So, when you said earlier that this mind-thingie is for my protection, it’s really more for Dipper’s.  You think I’m some kind of…”

“…liability.  It might seem harsh, but after everything I’ve seen in the footage from the bunker, I couldn’t be more certain.  You both would stand in the face of danger for the other’s welfare.  I truly think that if your life was in jeopardy, Dipper would be willing to sacrifice the entire universe to save you.  And with all due respect, that scenario cannot be allowed to happen.”

Wendy didn’t know what to say.  How could she feel so important and yet, so very small at the same time? As she thought about it a bit more, the redhead came to a new realization.

“Dipper – he doesn’t know I’m here, does he?”

Ford didn’t answer her question.  His eyes rose over her head.  “And we’re…just about…”

*DING!*

A bell sounded through the laboratory.  The helmet finally released its death grip on her temples, as a drained Wendy nearly slid off her seat.

“Finished!”  Ford rose to his feet and went to help Wendy up onto hers.  He proudly patted her back, nearly knocking her off-balance.  “How are you feeling?”

Wendy tried to find her center as she replaced her trapper hat on top her crown of copper hair.  She grabbed her forehead.  “My brain is throbbing.”

“All perfectly normal,” he declared.  “Now, you want to be wary of any other side effects.”

“Other side effects?”

“Yes.  This is my new prototype, after all.  There wasn’t time to work out all of the kinks.”  Ford began to count off on his fingers.  “So, if you experience leaky eyes, bloody nose, oozing out of certain orifices, and/or itchy palms or soles, don’t hesitate to let me know immediately.”

“T-Thanks.  Appreciate it…”  Wendy was thankful her mind wasn’t being monitored any longer.

“Only the best for the liability.  Isn’t that right, old man?”

As Wendy staggered towards the exit, Ford returned his chair to his desk and took a seat.  He started to scribble all sorts of follow-ups into his notebooks.  “I’m going to record my latest findings, so I’m afraid I’ll be a while.”  He pointed towards the door, “If you want to go on ahead, simply throw the switch to bring the elevator back to the surface.  You’ll find a button at the end of the path that’ll re-open the vending machine leading back to your work station.”

“You got it, Ford.  I guess…I’ll see you around.”

Just as Wendy started to turn the door knob, she heard Ford call out, “Wendy, wait?”

She paused and looked back to see Ford with his chair spun towards her.

“For what it’s worth,” he anxiously adjusted his collar.  “I wanted to thank you for everything that you do for Dipper.  I, above all people, can understand how lonely and awkward things can be at his age.  I’m glad that he has someone like you to help him along.”

Wendy let out a sigh of relief.  “It’s no biggie, really.  Like I said before, he’s fun to hang with, and – “

Ford continued on, as if he didn’t hear Wendy at all, “With that said, I figure that it’s only a matter of time before things return to normal, and your life will go back to how it used to be.”

She raised an eyebrow, “I’m not following you here…”

The senior went back to writing in his research, “It’s more than obvious that Dipper is extremely interested in following in my footsteps, and to be honest, I’d be more than honored to train him to do as such.  However, if there’s one thing I’ve learned through the years, is that in this line of work, relationships, rather they be emotional or physical, romantic or platonic, are fleeting.  In the end, they serve to be nothing more than a distraction from what’s really important in life.”

“What – What are you saying?”

“That in time, I’m more than positive that Dipper will grow out of this little fascination he has with you and focus on something that actually has substance in reality.”

“You think Dipper will just forget about me?”

“Or you about him. Whichever comes first.”

Wendy was left dumbstruck. Her stomach felt twisted by the man’s lack of empathy on all fronts.  However, she couldn’t leave on this note.  There was still one worry weighing down on her mind.

“Listen, Ford.”  The ginger rubbed her elbow fretfully. “Before I go, I wanted to ask you one last thing.  Let’s say that this little experiment didn’t work, and this Bill guy does find a way to take control over me.  What would you do then?”

Ford stopped writing in his notepad, but didn’t show Wendy a speck of his attention.  Another eerie silence filled the lab.  Mere seconds passed like hours before he finally gave an answer:

“We’ll…worry about that if and then the time comes.”  He returned to his studies as if nothing had transpired.  “Please make sure to close the door behind you.”

It took nearly all of Wendy’s remaining strength to respond.  “Yeah, I’ll do that…”

As Wendy slowly shut the door, she took one last look at the seemingly-disconnected old man focusing solely on the isolated world that he created for himself.  As much as she hated to admit it, this also reminded her of “her boy” as well.

The exhausted clerk pulled the switch back, making the elevator creep back up the way it had come. She leaned against the gated wall with folded arms as her mind raced over the recent experience, and all that came from it.  A glimpse of natural light offered little comfort from the gloominess of her current surroundings.

One thing was for certain: When Wendy reached the surface, she was definitely going to have to stare at a wall for a while, and rethink everything…

[veridium]

Short Fic: A Captive Audience

Summary: Olivia is tasked with a mission to Val Royeaux to secure materials for Mage experiments, studies, and healer’s inventory. Cassandra elects to accompany her, and finds that her woman has more in mind than just Inquisition business for her first trip back to the Capitol since joining the ranks. 

Author’s note: HAH will I ever get sick of writing this pair? NO. 

Characters: Cassandra Pentaghast, Olivia Sinclair

--

Even with the escort of the Seeker herself and several Inquisition scouts, Olivia had found her way out of all their sights in order to track down a location of particular interest. Cassandra herself couldn’t understand why she would want to vanish -- this was only supposed to be a deal negotiation for materials and inventory, something Olivia could be trusted with above all else. Why go incognito? Was there trouble afoot? Did something happen to her?

Oh, if something happened to her, Cassandra would have more to report than she originally predicted. 

“Seeker,” a Scout came running up behind her as she awaited intell, standing stiffly by the docks. “We traced her down to the arts district, just southeast of here.”

Cassandra’s brow furrowed as she folded her arms. “That is preposterous, she has no business there for the Inquisition.”

“Sister Nightingale’s notes on her says she used to be a dancer, could she perhaps have an old friend she wishes to visit?“ The Scout postulated, trying hard not to provoke the Seeker’s infamous temper. 

In that moment, Cassandra linked a possible theory together for why she would stray. The arts district -- redundant considering the pomp and display the Capitol had in spades -- housed many structures, one of which being a stage for the Opera. Perhaps it was the same one Olivia used to occupy during her days in school, before she sent herself to the Circle, back when she was a simple young girl being pushed irrevocably into a life of serving noble tastes for beauty and allure. 

“I know why she is there. I will recover her, no need to send people,” Cassandra rubbed the back of her head, gazing one last time out at the water before she garnered the energy to go wandering down further into the Capitol she found so exhausting and pompous. 

It took about a half an hour to enter the arts district of Val Royeaux, but when she did, it was impossible not to know. Painters, musicians, and poets lines the streets which were slightly shaded by richly-colored tapestries connecting structures together. In corridors and alleyways there was artworks and ceramics for sale, from various cultures and aesthetics. Their incongruity contrasted with the overwhelming style of Orlesian architecture and clothing. Then, she stumbled upon an overbearing structure -- gold enamel and sculptures of scantily-clad women and men, and lion heads crowning the columns. The roof seemed like one big rotunda, with mosaic glass lining the insides of the walls and supportive beams. She knew, then, that she had found her destination. 

Entering the main foyer, she became quickly fatigued at the number of doorways and hallways she had to choose from. Surely, an Opera house’s doors all led to the same giant room, why make it so labrynthine in nature? Eventually, she chose one of the front-facing ones, hoping the straight-forward path would yield the right result. Stray couplings and groups of Orlesian nobles watched her from the wings and corners as the Seeker of the Inquisition made her way into the one place they would surely never find her. 

But, for Olivia, such impossibilities would humble themselves. 

Entering the Opera chamber, Cassandra was humbled by the zealous décor of the space: the audience chairs seemed to go on for a mile, and the stage itself was broad, embellished by priceless-looking curtains and drapery. Everything shined either pearlescent gold or white, with the Orlesian blues accenting wherever they could. On either side of the stage, two more Lion’s heads roared out to the populace of concert-goers. Though, in this moment, that audience was one bewildered Seeker, trying to find her ally and lover who seemed to have a penchant for unexpected detours. 

Amongst the tide of blue velvet-lined chairs, Cassandra spotted one head: small, but full of ideas waiting to be expressed, surely. It was covered in a black hood, part of her traveling gear, and dyed to her personal taste. Olivia had been slowly but surely transforming into a woman of contradiction: a smiling, giggly person who decked herself out in black and had an interest in all things arcane and mysterious. Today, an exception in her behavior happened.

Cassandra walked her way down to her, taking care not to announce her presence. Part of her was curious, after all, as to why Olivia would take such effort to be here if she had such painful memories from it. She also noticed that she was seated closely to the front row, though not directly within it. 

“Olivia,” Cassandra said calmly as she arrived next to her, standing in the walkway between the two sections of seats, “what has gotten into you?”

Olivia sat with the posture and awareness of a lady, her hands folded poised on her lap, her back relaxed and straight as it rested against her seat. She did not look away from her gaze at the stage, which was open and cavernous almost, intimidating in its own way. 

“This is where they were sitting. I can almost see them, smiling and nodding.” Her voice was a melancholic monotone, the breathing on her lips shallow as she was lost in her daydream. 

Cassandra tilted her chin with confusion. “Who are you referring to?”

“My parents, Cassandra. This is where they were seated for my debut. It must be, what, six, seven years ago now?”

Cassandra’s chest hollowed as she realized just why Olivia took the risk in coming here, diverting from the Inquisition guards and causing a rather concerning stir. She sighed, then, and made her way to her, taking a quiet seat beside her and electing to keep her company for just a few moments longer. The Inquisition could wait that much. 

“You’ve given the Scouts quite a fright. It is impressive that you managed to steal away without so much as a trace,” the Seeker remarked, placing her elbows on the armrests.

“They were hardly difficult to deal with. They don’t think much of me anyway,” Olivia grinned on one side of her mouth, her body rigid and stubbornly locked in her place. Nothing would move her from this spot before she was ready, not a Scout, not an Inquisitor, and not even a beloved Seeker. This was her moment, her stolen reprieve. 

“That is not true, Olivia,” Cassandra feigned sincerity, but, she knew Olivia was right. They all adored her kindness and sweetness, but when it came to dealings of a more precarious nature, Olivia was always taken as a docile and unassuming person. She had been taken for a sheep when, in fact, she had just as much Orlesian lion in her than any kind of energy. She was capable, and deceitful when necessary. 

She sighed under her breath, feeling the looming weight of responsibility and daylight on the wings. 

“I never thought I would be back here again, after that night. I was so humiliated. Mother wouldn’t stop crying, Father was torn between comforting me and her wailing. My dress and tights were ruined, and I had sewn it all by hand.”

Cassandra knew that in this moment, the best course of action was to listen to Olivia as she mourned a life she had lost long ago. It wasn’t often that she opened up like this, without trying to lighten the mood immediately afterword. But no, this time, it lingered in the air: her sadness, her regret, her pain. It was here to stay, and she would leave it here in these halls, never to return after this. 

“I can hear the song, too. The one I had practiced dancing to for months. My feet ached and bruised, my hair tightly pinned to my head in slick waves and curls.” She then rose from her seat as if she was being called to approach the stage. Stepping out of the row, and encroaching on the stage’s edge, she slid one leg over it and mounted it. Rising to her feet once more, she continued her trek to the middle of the vast stage floor. The airy daylight that shown through the open-air columns illuminated her surroundings. 

Cassandra watched, but did not move. Something about this moment beckoned her to be still and witness. Olivia had her back to her as she scanned the backstage looming in front of her. 

“The curtains pulled while I was turned away from the audience. I was here, front and slightly upstage. I wore a snow-white leotard with glittering fabric all up and down, a frilly skirt around my back and waist. The singers were off to the side, closer to the Orchestra. My face was painted gold, as if I were one of the plastered sculptures.”

Olivia’s narrative voice echoed from the stage outward, demonstrating the proper acoustics of the room. She then turned to face the audience, eyes out to the very back of the room, where she had been trained to spot. You weren’t supposed to make willy-nilly eye contact with everyone in the seats, least of all your loved ones. Such breaks in character were frowned upon. Yet, Olivia broke protocol all those years ago. 

“I tried my hardest not to look,” a soft, bittersweet smile cracked on her lips, “but Father was smiling so big, it was like he was his own spotlight.”

“What exactly caused you to have your outburst with your magic? Were you afraid you’d fail?” Cassandra asked aloud, projecting her voice across the distance between them.

Then, she heard a laugh, as Olivia’s shoulders softened with defeat. “I was...I was anything but. In fact, I was so happy that I couldn’t contain it. My powers reacted to the joy that I felt within my nerves, the thrill...it was too much.”

“You lost control due to happiness?” Cassandra asked, astonished. Such a story was rarely heard from a Mage, at least in her experience.

Olivia shrugged. “Emotions are emotions, Cassandra. We think the sorrowful kind are the most dangerous, but, we forget that it can be the ones we feel when we are most empowered that can cause the most trouble.”

Olivia turned her gaze down to where Cassandra was, her eyes losing their luster as she realized all over again that her Father was gone from this world, and not sitting there, where she knew she would see him. Her smile faded, too, as she felt self-conscious over her romantics. 

“You...” she chuckled with embarrassment, gathering her hands in front of her waist, “you must think me such a silly little fool for indulging in this.”

Cassandra stood up, then, and slid out of the row where she had been positioned. She walked until she was directly in front of Olivia, down on the level of the front row, close enough to touch the surface of the stage with her hands and forearms. Without a word, she reached her hands upwards, inviting Olivia to come down from her pedestal. Olivia watched her, and she grinned seeing her invite her back down.

Quietly, Olivia crouched down a bit, placing her arms on top of Cassandra’s and gripping onto her shoulders as she let her bring her back down to Earth. Feeling the Seeker’s grip cradling her waist as she did so, made her feel like she was once more the nimble and petite dancer being brought down from a lift. 

But she was no dancer anymore, and her partner in this exchange was no accompaniment in some choreographed routine. She was her lover, and they were caught in the real world that felt stranger and more fantastical than any Operetta story could ever depict.

Feeling her feet on the floor, Olivia kept herself close and in Cassandra’s hold, maintaining eye contact. Cassandra was hard to read in this moment -- was she unsympathetic to her? Or was she being scared off my the nostalgic temperament Olivia displayed? Her concerns washed away with a tide of relief as the Seeker pressed her lips to Olivia’s forehead, lingering there as she pulled her in closer. 

Olivia closed her eyes, feeling her insecurity be embraced and redeemed.

“My love,” Cassandra said as she pulled her into a hug, “never feel ashamed for your choice to acknowledge the past. It has made you who you are, and for that, you deserve your chance to gain closure.”

Olivia could feel the emotions bubbling within her heart beg for expression. She wanted to cry, laugh, run away, and stay forever, all in the same moment. She rested her cheek against Cassandra’s shoulder, holding onto her lover’s strong arms as if they could realign stars and heal the most fatal of broken hearts. 

“Thank you, my darling.” She pulled away, taking her lover’s hands into hers. “I am sorry for scaring everyone, though. That wasn’t my intention.”

Cassandra laughed, looking back out at the rows of seats, and towards the door from whence she first entered the chamber. “Perhaps someday you can bring me here when we aren’t busy securing contraband for the Inquisition. Maybe, then, there will be a performance to watch.”

Olivia shook her head, a sorry smile forming on her face. “Cassandra, I appreciate your tenderness, but I have no desire to be under this roof for another Operetta again.”

“Are you certain? I hear Orlesian Operas are quite the experience.”

“I know, I was in them. Ambassador Montilyet would love to, I’m sure, but I am quite done with such fanfare for one life. I prefer adventure that I can feel, and not simply watch as people pretend to experience it.”

Cassandra leaned onto one hip, surprised once again by Olivia’s moods and opinions. 

“Very well, how else would you prefer we spend our free time?”

As they walked up the alley towards the exit, Olivia leaned into her lover’s side as they held hands tightly. “Oh, I don’t know, the usual: defeat evil, make love like fiends into the morning, and experiment with explosive substances.”

Cassandra suppressed a most surprised laughter. “Alright, but hopefully not all at once.”

[kitchenleed-blog]

How To Choose Kitchen Table Chairs

It would seem that it is tough - To choose appropriate kitchen table chairs, the principle aspect is that they are durable and reliable, and also no longer get out of the general style of the interior. But modern furniture manufacturers have tried to complicate this assignment to the maximum: the range of fashions of dining chairs is simply off the size! What elements and parameters must be taken into account earlier than shopping a chair in order that it served faithfully for many years and became no longer simplest a functional piece of furniture however additionally an interior decoration?

For more information on kitchen furniture visit our website www.kitchenleed.com

Types of chairs

Think, what type of kitchen table chairs do you need, difficult or smooth, normal or folding? Or do you dream of a semi-armchair with armrests? Choose your personal!

Rigid kitchen chairs (wood or plastic chairs )

- The conventional model with a solid frame with out tender upholstery. As a rule, it isn't continually relaxed to sit down on such chairs for a long time, however they're smooth to operate and hold. Different dirt and stains can be eliminated quickly and without unique troubles, which is mainly critical for families with children or in conditions of extensive use in the kitchen, without delay subsequent to the operating area of cooking.

Soft kitchen chairs

- This is an utility for a complete relaxation for the returned. A tender filler is connected to the hard frame, and the chair is included with a furniture fabric or leather on top. As a filler, artificial (polyurethane foam, foam rubber) or herbal fillers (coconut coir, horse hair, buckwheat husk) can act. In models which are near the chair, even a spring unit can be used. Soft kitchen chairs are definitely very secure, but they want unique care and accuracy at some stage in operation. Any stain, of route, may be withdrawn, however it will take time and effort. In addition, upholstered furniture can "absorb" smells and accumulate dirt. Therefore, it's far really helpful to install such models within the eating place of the dwelling room or in the eating room.

Depending on the size of the kitchen or living room, you could pick out among ordinary or folding kitchen chairs. The room of wonderful size lets in you no longer to think about this problem. But for a small kitchen folding fashions are best, which, unlike the standard ones, flawlessly store area. While chairs aren't wished, they may be stored under the sofa or in the back of the door in a folded form, and with a sudden (or deliberate) site visitors' visit, folding chairs can be fast reached and effortlessly mounted.

Place of installation of chairs

How to pick a chair for the kitchen or eating area of the residing room? The method to selection will be exclusive, and to start with, it concerns substances. The kitchen calls for models which might be immune to dirt - grease, and stains, in addition to proof against moisture and temperature adjustments. It is proper that the again is simple to clean because it is not constantly easy fingers for it. Of direction, even within the kitchen table chairs can be with gentle material upholstery, however in this situation, it's far higher to select non-mark colorations, as well as models with removable covers in order that it is able to be quick eliminated and despatched to dry cleaners in case you can not manage the spot yourself.

Chair peak and comfy healthy

Any kitchen table chairs are desirable to "attempt on" for my part, even in case you chose them from the catalog or on-line keep. Find the possibility to go to the showroom or showroom and behavior a "check power". Ideally, if for the duration of the sitting your toes stand on the ground, and your knees - bent at proper angles. But, of route, producers produce chairs of standard sizes, and each member of the family has its personal growth and ideas approximately comfort. By the way, for human beings of low or high stature eating chairs with adjustable seat peak are best, and it's miles ideal that the peak trade can be made via lightly pressing the lever (gasoline-lift mechanism, borrowed from office chairs).

The the front fringe of the chair seat must not chunk into the location under the knees. The optimum intensity is forty-forty five cm, then there is a small hole between the legs and the brink of the chair. This parameter is mainly vital whilst choosing inflexible models of kitchen desk chairs. Also, pay attention to the width of the seat and the presence of armrests or rails. It can be very convenient for you, however what if there are full humans in the family or amongst buddies who will be hard to "squeeze in"?

Weight of a dining chair and reliability of a design

The chair must be strong and dependable. No compromises! No count number how lovely and cozy the chair is, be aware of its layout. Models on 4 legs are traditionally taken into consideration to be the maximum solid, despite the fact that modern furnishings layout assumes distinctive designs, no less reliable, as an example, models of "spiders", in which 4-6 legs diverge from one point in the middle of the seat or emerge as traditional fashions on one leg and spherical base. In any case, all options need to be strong and do no longer crumble at the first critical load: steel legs ought to be forged and of first rate thickness, plastic ones - do no longer circulate aside when planting, etc. Particular attention to the layout of the chair need to take delivery of if the own family has people of magnificent gadget.

A at ease and strong stool does no longer imply a heavy chair. If you count on to often push chairs under the desk or pass from location to location, this is, washed away, be aware of light-weight models made of plastic or mild wooden. For a stationary dining institution, as an example in the living room, it's far possible to pick out the solid timber products.

Creative solutions

Think approximately whether you will purchase equal or extraordinary kitchen desk chairs. The traditional answer is to buy the same, however you could acquire chairs of various shapes around the same table, but they are protected with the same cloth, or vice versa-of the equal shape, however in specific upholstery. Chairs need not be from the same cloth! In addition, that the sort of reception is exciting in phrases of adorning the indoors design, it may additionally be a perfect solution if the same old sizes of chairs do now not fit all participants of the own family. Then you may select or order each man or woman chair, but blended with the equal substances or stylistics.

[wheelchairtetris]

Being a wheelchair user is just a constant maintenance and upgrade loop. Like. I finally replaced my caster wheels! Now I need to replace my tires and order axle spacers so I can use my wheels w/ better push rims. Eventually I should upgrade my folding/travel chair's backrest. Get a new backrest cover for my current backrest. Get a new cushion. Etc etc on top of daily/weekly/monthly maintenance. All to be able to move comfortably!!