#ergonomic seat cushions

[anjizkfurniture]

Sedentary Ergonomic Teacher Office Mesh Chair With Green Seat Cushion

[mylogy]

Big Back Lumbar Cushion

Whether you enjoy reading, working, or simply relaxing in bed, this lumbar cushion is the perfect companion. It helps alleviate discomfort and promotes proper posture, reducing strain on your back and neck muscles.

[fadingtimetravelqueen]

"Boost Your Focus and Energy with Our Soft Ergonomic Seat Cushion and Back Support"

[briarpatch-kids]

Let's talk mobility aids!

Canes

Canes are for when you need to take a little bit of weight off of one side of your body, need a little help with balance, or need a little extra stability when you walk. It's an easy mobility aid to find and get, and it's pretty easy to figure out how to use. Have the cane sized so the handle sits at wrist level, then hold it on the opposite side to the one that hurts. Match your cane strikes to the steps on the hurt side. It will hurt your arm, elbow, and shoulder sometimes, but having a properly sized cane will help.

Rollators

Rollators are kind of the "next step up" in support. They come with more restrictions, you get limited to ramps and stuff, but they're also the least restrictive wheeled mobility aid because they're light and easy to pick up and toss around. They also have a seat a lot of times and a basket so you don't need to carry stuff. They're for when you need a place to rest, something to lean on when you walk, better balance assistance than a cane, and less weight bearing than a cane. I also found that it helped me with fatigue quite a bit. There's two main kinds, euro style like the first, and regular like the second. There are other fancier ones but I'm covering the basics here.

Rollators are my favorite mobility aid and I've used everything from canes to a fancy high grade power chair. They're just the perfect balance of help and freedom. They provide so much support for how far they go.

Crutches

Arm crutches are pretty neat! They're a lot more ergonomic than a cane. In fact, some people use a single arm crutch as a cane. They distribute the weight a little better, so it's not all on your wrists, and they support you better than a rollator can. The major cons I found are that they take two hands to use so you can't carry much and I had a really hard time trying to learn to walk with them. A lot of people who use forearm crutches have other mobility aids and use the forearm crutches when they want to or need to walk.

Manual Wheelchairs

These are for when walking becomes more difficult than pushing a wheelchair. There's no weight being put on your legs and feet and depending on your needs, you can get really specific with your adaptations if you have a custom wheelchair verses a standard wheelchair. My first custom chair looked like a monster truck because i took in the woods and gravel, my second custom chair after I got sicker has a head rest, a backrest that holds me up, and a little electric box that I can attach that helps me push. The difference between getting a standard and custom wheelchair is dependent on how much money the user has, what kind of needs they have, and what kind of medical access they have. (One is not more "real" than the other.) I highly recommend getting a cushion for under your butt if you have a standard chair without a cushion, I used a standard full time for 6 months and a cushion made a huge difference.

Mobility scooters

Mobility scooters are for people who can't walk long distances, but can still walk with the help of a cane or unassisted. If you can walk around your house, but not really much else, a mobility scooter might be the aid for you! There's a lot of different styles and battery life lengths and handling abilities so try a few different scooters out if you can.

Powerchairs

Powerchairs come in a couple different types or "groups" depending on your needs. Group 1 is the kind of chair you're probably most familiar with. It's basically for someone who needs a powerchair to get around their house, the doctors, office, and grocery store. You can't do any custom seat cushions or anything, but it's for people who don't need it. Think of like... someone who can walk pretty okay still, it just hurts to walk or they're off balance or a little weak feeling. A lot of times more elderly people will use these, if you're more active look into group 2

Group two chairs are little more durable, a little more stable, sometimes you can switch the captains seats out for custom seating... They're what a full time powerchair user would use if they don't need specialty functions like tilt or recline. They also often have 6 wheels rather than 4 like the group 1 chairs have.

Group 3 powerchairs are reserved for specific diagnoses like muscular dystrophy, ALS, and other severe neurological and neuromuscular illnesses. These are also called "rehab" chairs because they're for making sure severely disabled people have quality of life. The tilt function is for pressure relief, though you can also get things like elevation so you can raise and lower your chair, and some of them can recline flat. There are other avenues of moving grade 3 power chairs beyond the joystick as well in case someone can't use their hands or doesn't have them. (Head controls, torso controls, and straw controls called sip and puff are alternatives.) They can go on a little worse terrain than group 1 and two chairs and go a little farther, but if they get stuck they weigh 350 lbs and it's awful.

There's a few other types of mobility aid that I don't know enough about, like ankle foot orthotics and gait trainers, but these are the basic "mobility aid" most people will come across.

If you use another type of mobility aid and want to educate people, add it on!!

[neuroticboyfriend]

i love you disposable and reusable straws. i love you sippy cups. i love you cups and containers with handles. i love you tiny utensils and toothbrushes. i love you ergonomic art supplies. i love you lap desks. i love you wireless electronics. i love you cushioned surfaces. i love you automatic and press to open doors. i love you wide seats and high weight limits. i love you adjustable clothes, furniture, mobility aids, etc etc. i love you accessibility and comfort.

[wheelie-sick]

Things to research before getting your first custom manual wheelchair

one of the biggest things I can recommend to anyone getting a new custom chair (but especially a first custom chair) is to understand all of the parts of a wheelchair and what they do. I decided to make a guide with wheelchair parts to research and places to look for information to make this process a little bit easier. additional link suggestions are welcome.

General resources:

Permobil - The Wheelchair Handbook

Motion Composites - Preparing for Your Wheelchair Evaluation: Before the Evaluation (Part 1)

Motion Composites - Preparing for Your Wheelchair Evaluation (Part 2)

1. Frame

Motion Composites - Folding vs Rigid Wheelchair Frames: How to Choose

Permobil - Manual wheelchairs: rigid and folding frames. How do you choose?

GTK - Oh what’s in a frame? Comparing Multiple Materials

Motion Composites - Wheelchairs: Carbon Fiber Versus Aluminum

2. Front frame angle

Motion Composites - Understanding the Impact of Rigid Wheelchair Front Frame Angle

Sunrise Medical - Rigid Frame Wheelchairs – Frame Angle and Inset

4. Seat dump

Permobil - Ergonomic Seating and Manual Wheelchairs

Spinlife - Wheelchair Back & Seat Angle

5. Caster size, style, and position

Motion Composites - Front Casters for Manual Wheelchairs Practical Guide

Sunrise Medical - Front Caster Position in Manual Wheelchairs

6. Caster forks

New Mobility - Caster Wheels and Forks

Sunrise Medical - Maneuverability in Manual Wheelchairs - What Fork to use?

New Mobility - Innovations: Emerging Trends in the Wheelchair Market (information about single sided forks)

7. Footplate

Motion Composites - Footrest Options to Support Function and Mobility

When Tania Talks - Active User Wheelchair Footplate Options

8. Calf strap

Spex Seating - Lower Leg Support Considerations in Wheelchair Seating

9. Seat pan

Permobil - Solid Seat Insert for Wheelchair: Taking a Closer Look at Cushion Components

10. Seat cushion

Permobil - What to Look for in Seating & Positioning Products

Permobil - How to Choose a Cushion in Long Term Care

Permobil - Cushion Geometry: Linear and Contoured

Freedom Mobility Center - Wheelchair Seat Cushions: 5 Tips for Choosing the Right One for You

Mobility Basics - Seat Cushion Rigidizer

Motion Composites - Selecting the Right Cushion for Your Wheelchair a Clinicians Guide

Motion Composites - Covering the Basics of Wheelchair and Back Support Covers

11. Seat belts

12. Clothing guards

Sherman Oaks Medical Equipment - Wheelchair Clothes Guards / Side Guards Guide

13. Arm rests

United Spinal Association - Wheelchair Armrests What Do They Really Do?

Spinlife - Wheelchair Arm Rest Choices

Motion Composites - Armrests: Getting the Support you Need

14. Back supports

Motion Composites - Solid vs Upholstery Backs

Mobility Management - How to Choose the Right Back Height for your Client

Freedom Mobility Center - Why a Solid Back is Preferred Over a Sling Back

Mobility Basics - Back Supports

Sunrise Medical - Tips for Selecting Prefabricated Wheelchair Backs

Motion Composites - Covering the Basics of Wheelchair and Back Support Covers

15. Head supports

16. Push handles

Motion Composites - Push Handles: Pushing Around

17. Wheels

Motion Composites - Rolling Along: The Importance of Rear Wheel Selection

Sunrise Medical - Comparing Wheelchair Wheel Spoke Options

Mobility Basics - Manual Wheelchair Wheels

18. Tires

New Mobility - Everything You Need to Know About Selecting the Right Wheelchair Tires

GTK - Solid versus Pneumatic Tyres

Mobility Basics - Manual Wheelchair Wheels

Motion Composites - Tire Selection: Balancing Performance and Maintenance

19. Brakes

Motion Composites - Wheel Locks: Unlocking Safety and Function

20. Push rims/Hand rims

Motion Composites - Getting a Grasp: Understanding the Impact of Hand Rims

DME Hub - Wheelchair Hand Rom Options and Factors to Consider

21. Anti-tip wheels

22. Camber

Motion Composites - Camber - Degrees of Performance

23. Center of Gravity

Motion Composites - Rear Wheel Position 101

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, clashing personalities, exclusion, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: moody boy Curtis Everett x bubbly, plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Another Monday. Is this what life is? Mourning the weekend as you try to wipe the sleep from your eyes. It's too much, you should be cuddling squishes and snoring.

You hop off the bus and head towards the building. Once you're at your desk, you can pretend you're awake. If you get the right angle, you can just doze off a bit. Just a couple minutes more.

The elevator nearly knocks you with its slow rise. You shuffle between cubicles but before you can claim your chair, you find something unexpected. A cushion. A pink and white ergonomic cushion with a matching pad clung around the back rest. Um, this isn't your chair.

You look around confused. Someone will be real mad when they realise they lost their fancy chair. People do seem territorial around here. You turn the chair as you search for its owner.

“Did I get the colour right?” A grizzly voice has you leaping in place. You face Curtis as he rests his hand on the side of your cubicle, “they had purple too.”

“You?” You gasp.

“I…” he shrugs and his eyes wander to the ceiling, “I'm tryna make it up to you. I was and asshole so–”

“Nope, nuh uh,” you turn and tear open the velcro, detaching the back pad, “keep ‘em. I don't want your charity.”

“It's not–” he steps forward, “it's an apology.”

“Apology? For stealing? Well, I can't forgive a liar.”

You shove the pad against his chest, “I think I was clear. You should be happy I was because I have a terrible habit of rambling. My mom says I could talk the dead to life.”

He reluctantly clasps onto the pad as he scowls. You grab the seat cushion and press it against the other one. He reluctantly hooks his other arm under it.

“I was gonna give it back,” he grumbles.

“So why'd you take it?” You challenge.

“I don't know,” he mutters.

“I do. You're a bully. I left those behind in school,” you put your hands on your hips, “so go away and keep your hands off my things!”

His nostrils flare as his eyes meet yours. They're the shade of blue that makes you think of storms and the ocean and butterfly wings. He'd be cute if he wasn't so mean.

“You shouldn't talk to me like that,” he warns as he squeezes the cushions.

“Take your own advice, meanie! You had your chance.”

“I've been nice,” he rasps as he looks you up and down.

You're unsettled by how the glint in his eyes changes, how his shoulders square and his jaw ticks. He meets your gaze and narrows his eyes.

“You don't know what mean is.”

You flinch as he spins on his heel. He marches past you, a gust of air tickling your cheeks as he flees. You turn and watch him go, your stomach knotting.

Maybe you were a bit rude, even pushy, but you're trying to be better about drawing lines. You don't have to be a doormat to be nice. Even if it is easier.

You put your bag on your desk and sit, squeaking at the harsh impact of your ass on the thin seat. Gosh, there may as well not be any padding. You sniff and swivel close to the desk, booting the computer as you wait and think.

He's mad but he'll get over it. He made it clear he has no interest in you before so why this sudden change. Oh well, you never really understood men or their brains.

🩷

You stare at your pen cup and frown. You miss your happy penguin pen buddy. As you ponder his absence, that suspicion nips at your ears. Maybe he took those too.

Does it matter? You're moving on. You ordered new pens on Amazon. You're starting over new!

You get up to get a fresh coffee. You really should cut back. Maybe you could do some hot chocolate but you get a bit silly when you have too much sugar.

You enter the break room and immediately want to storm out. He's there, glaring at the machine as he watches it brew. You smell the dark roast you bought him. How could you have ever been so nice to someone like him?

Curtis takes his mug and you sidle along the wall, certain to get well out of his way. He turns and stops as he sees you. You stare at the ceiling as you wait for him to go.

He snarls but makes no move to leave. You bounce on your heels with your mug in hand. You can wait.

He's not going. So you go to the machine and peruse the selection. Maple shortbread, huh, that's a curious choice.

You sense him lingering. You do your best to ignore him, the scuff of his shoes putting you on edge. You're not the best at reading people, obviously, but you can feel his anger.

As he looms closer, you take a step forward. You spin and throw an arm up as if blocking an unseen strike. Your hand flips Curtis’ mug, spilling the brown liquid down his grey shirt. He backs up and looks down at the mess.

“Why would you do that?”

“Personal space,” you wave your arm up and down, drawing the invisible wall before you.

“I'm trying to… you're crazy, you know that?”

“So what does that make you?” You pout, “I told you to leave me alone.”

He puffs, lip curling as he grips his mug tight. He scoffs and whips it past you so it smashes against the wall and the bits litter over the counter. You let out a squeal as he stomps out, leaving you in shock, standing before a puddle of coffee.

You gulp and face the remnants of his mug. You should clean that up before anyone cuts themselves. You cross to the counter and set to carefully plucking up the shards.

“What happened in here?” Melanie asks as she enters, “oh it's you.”

You ignore her as you focus on the glass. Of course she assumes it was you. Seems like everyone thinks you're a disaster.

[winterbuckwild]

New Fic!

Based on this post, part 1 now up! READ ON Ao3 HERE

Title: I Can Be Flexible

Rating Mature (eventually)

Pretty much nothing hurts (except Eddies back) pure fluff. Streamer/Youtuber AU.

Eddie groaned as he switched the camera off, stretching his leg out from where it had been folded on the seat under him. He shook his foot pathetically as the fuzzy pins and needles feeling took over his lower leg.

That was the issue when he really got into the game he was streaming; he crunched himself up on his expensive ergonomic gaming chair, completely nulling any actual orthopaedic benefits that had sounded so good at the time. No more back pain, no more cricked neck, no more knee aches.

Lies.

When the feeling returned to his foot enough for him limp out of the box room he used as an "office" he beelined for the kitchen and narrowly held back the urge just to stick his head under the faucet and let the cold water deal with his dehydration and blood shot eyes from the outside. He grabbed a semi clean glass from the side instead and congratulated himself a little as he downed two glasses in quick succession and refilled a third time, scrubbing at the back of his sore, stiff neck.

He carried his water, a tube of Pringles and the leftover pizza from lunch to the worn, dipped couch pushed to one end of his small living area and lowered himself down with a sigh, propping his legs up on the beanbag he used mostly as a footstool.

He was pretty sure at twenty seven he shouldn't be aching so damned much but here he was, knees cracking and jaw clicking as he shifted to find a semi comfortable position. He'd spent four hours on live, alternating between crunched up in his chair and half hanging out of it and he definitely hadn't been thinking at the time about how much he was going to be paying for it afterwards.

He shook two painkillers out of the bottle by the side of the couch, downing half the glass again before shoving a piece of pizza in his mouth before the pills could make his stomach hurt again.

It took four slices before he felt human again, the water and the food with the painkillers making him sleepy and soft. After the cacophony of the game he'd been playing, the silence of the apartment emphasised the faint ringing in his ears that he only noticed when all the other noise stopped.

He nodded off a few minutes later within head tipped back against the couch cushion.

**

Steve knew that it was the review of the computer game that he should be watching; after all that was the reason that Dustin had shoved his phone in Steve's face to begin with. He'd been on another rant, trying to convince Steve that the game was absolutely suitable for Nancy and Jonathan's young son (it wasn't) “It hardly has any decapitation in it Steve, look!”

Look he did, but Steve was completely distracted from the actual game part of the video by the very pretty man in the thumbnail off to the side who was playing said game and gesturing enthusiastically every time he had a second to take his hands off the controller.

Even more distracting was that he had his foot propped up on the chair, arm hooked lazily around it as he leaned forwards in concentration. His whole upper body looked like it screamed discomfort, and Steve's shoulder blades throbbed in sympathy.

"Does he know how bad for his back that is?" he commented, feeling older and older with every word that left his mouth. "If he's not walking like he shit himself when he gets off that chair, it will be a miracle."

"What about the game, Steve?" Dustin sounded exasperated and just a little bitchy.

"Nancy will hit the roof, and not in a good way." Steve mentally noted the gamers handle and handed Dustin back his phone. "Time for a present rethink."

Henderson tried one final time to get Steve on side and convince him of the games suitability but gave up at the thought of Nancy's displeasure which was clearly much scarier than Steve's. They finished up lunch and left the café hugging tightly before going their separate ways.

It was only a short walk home, the autumn air crisp and clean as it actually got in the city. He really was going to go straight up to his apartment above the little gym that he owned and ran, but he detoured to walk the floor instead.

Robin glared at him from where she was manning the reception desk.

"What are you doing here, Dingus?" She glared harder "you do know the place won't explode if you take an afternoon off? I'm starting to feel like you don't trust me."

Steve held his hands out in a placating gesture and slipped past the reception area.

He made his way around the counter, deliberately avoiding the main floor. Didn't even look at it. He knew what was good for him. "I thought of a thing, I'm not even here, I promise." She gave him a look, clearly nor believing a word until he slipped into the back room.

It was meant to be a small one on one yoga studio, or at least that's what he designed it as when the builders were talking specs but it was rarely used as such. He usually used it for filming so his camera setup was mostly a permanent fixture from where he filmed his videos for his fitness channel.

When his own YouTube channel gained some followers that weren’t friends being supportive, he’d started putting out videos semi-regularly from his apartment while he was waiting for the gym space below it to be finished. He gained followers slowly but surely until he’d had Robin film one of flexibility workouts (where he had ditched his shirt about a quarter of the way in) to track his progress and she had sneakily given it a sound track and posted it. He’d been mad for all of five minutes before the thirst trap had worked and his follower count had skyrocketed.

After the gym had been finished he started just using the smaller room for full body shots and movements (god damn it, Robin, not every video requires abs) since there was more room than in his little apartment. He was a tall guy and he needed the space if he didn't want to smack something important on something immovable.

Since the gym wasn't exactly advertised leaning towards the yoga crowd the room didn't really see a lot of use even though most of his videos centred mainly on stretching and flexibility these days and he plugged the gym fairly regularly.

Steve stretched out a little before he settled down in front of the tripod, phone in place and pointed at the right angle. He didn't feel the need for pricey cameras or super complicated lighting when the overheads at the gym could go brighter than the sun when he wanted them to, but having to not dick around with tripod angles was always welcome when he had something stuck in his brain.

His thoughts had never quite left the beautiful, enthusiastic streamer from Dustin's phone and the pretzel shape that he'd contorted himself into on his gaming chair. Steve clicked the little Bluetooth button and smiled winningly at the camera, getting his usual intro done on auto pilot.

"If you are like this fine gentleman here and get into your game or work a bit too much, I'm going to show you how to mitigate some of the damage and hopefully make your back and neck feel a bit better after a long session." The tracking pod that his phone rested on moved with him as he sat gracefully on the floor, legs held wide to stretch out his hamstrings. He mimed leaning against a chair for the beginners poses and then gradually sunk lower until his chest nearly hit the floor and he could grab at his bare feet, explaining all the while about the stretch and how it released the lower back.

He shot through a twist, grabbing a firm bolster cushion to rest his upper body on while his hips twisted the other way, and then the more advanced version of the pose, and then twisted so that he was laying on his back with the bolster snugged up under his shoulder blades with his neck supported and his arms out to the side. He suppressed a groan of pleasure as he talked, his voice getting a little breathy as his own back stretched, courtesy of the truly horrible café chairs he'd been forced into for the afternoon.

"And to finish off if you have a bit of trouble sleeping, try some legs on the wall from my last video for ten to fifteen minutes, I'll link that in the description below. It'll help lower your cortisol levels and set you up for a good night." Steve smiled again at the camera feeling a little lighter than before now that his brain worm of an idea was fully formed and done. He did his usual outro and added a little extra that he hoped no one would notice was aimed at the pretty gamer. "Hope you feel better, sleep well."

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | The Beginning (6x01)

Make no mistake, Agent Fowley. Handle Mulder, or we will. 

The threat-laced promise shoots through Diana’s brain like a ricocheted bullet. While she pleads for Fox to accompany her in search of the entity, she runs a finger across the freshly healed gunshot wound on her ribcage. The ache serves as a harsh reminder. Her task is clear. 

And the stakes have never been higher. 

“I was given this assignment, Fox, okay?” she explains as he leaves Agent Scully’s side and marches up to Diana’s car to confront her. “They offered it to me. I took the chance…”

“I'm listening.”

“…To make sure someone served your interests. Someone who believes in the work.” If she has to pull on the thread of their shared paranormal past to reel him in, she will. “Hey, you and I found the X-Files together. Don't forget that.”

His suspicion spikes. “Who sent you?”

“I'm here on my own.” It’s a truth-coated lie. If she can’t persuade him to leave behind his partner and the most important eight-year-old weapon in their arsenal currently lying in their backseat, then Diana’s life won't be the only one on the line. 

“Why? To convince me of your noble intentions?”

“Listen to me.” An irritation rises that only years of practice arguing with stubborn men can elicit. “That thing is somewhere inside the Number Four reactor building. Now, we can let them find it and destroy it, or go find it ourselves. You need proof, Fox. You're so close.” Too close. Everyone knows it, especially Gibson Praise. “Why can't you see that?”

This is the first time they’ve spoken freely since his near-death escapade to the bottom of the earth, and for many reasons, Diana cannot risk his refusal now. She is prepared to do whatever it takes to handle him by steering his attention away from the boy to keep them safe. To urge Fox into an allied position under her watchful eye where he fully trusts her again. 

Her and only her. 

Fox hesitates as he stares at his waiting partner, then agrees. Diana exhales in relief as he folds himself into the passenger seat of her car. She glances at Agent Scully through the windshield as she throws the Taurus into reverse. Even in darkness, Diana can see big blue eyes brimming with vulnerability. 

***

Fox fidgets with the dirty ashtray as she turns onto the highway. “I quit smoking years ago. Same time as you, remember?”

He shrugs. ”Ya never know.”

“Well, I know you’re mad, and I know you don’t want to talk about the X-Files. But I also know you can’t move past this unless you have your say.”

“What else is there to say other than you really know how to twist a knife?” 

“I didn’t stab you in the back, Fox.”

“Agent Spender sitting at my desk says otherwise,” he retorts. “I want my ergonomic cushion back, by the way.” 

Her eyes roll. “Look, I fought for you to join me. Argued our unique expertise would be invaluable—”

“Fought for me to join you,” he huffs. “Thanks for the effort, but I have a partner.”

“You do,” Diana sighs. Dana Scully is a much larger problem than anyone could have anticipated. Fortunately for Diana, her new partner, Jeffrey, is as pretentious as he is pliable. “And I have no desire to argue about partners. But I’m here now, Fox. Let’s do what we do best and get proof.” 

She reaches out and places her palm atop Fox’s knee. He stares at it — her silent plea for him to listen. To believe her, like he’d done so easily before she’d left him and their marriage behind for secrets shrouded in cigarette smoke. 

He nods, “Okay.”

***

Minutes and miles fly by as she and Fox debate the details. Though their camaraderie is comforting, her duplicity is burdensome as she ruminates on how dangerous this familiar dance they’re doing is. But at the moment, she doesn’t give a damn. 

“You're not under the impression what we're looking for makes sense in any conventional way?” Diana prods.

“No,” he scoffs, a little awed at the bluntness of her unconventionality. “No, but it’s nice to hear someone else thinks it, too.”

Handle Mulder, or we will. 

The stark reminder pops their comfortable bubble of calm.

“Earlier, you wondered whose errands I was running,” Diana divulges. She suddenly feels the need to placate herself just as much as him tonight. “They’re my own, Fox.” 

He hums, considering her confession.

While it is true she’d naïvely made her own dangerous choices to get to where she is, sometimes lying to herself is easier than admitting free will is no longer hers without risk. God, how she’d wanted to be part of the Project back then — had reveled in its ground-breaking, para-scientific research when recruited out of Berlin. But now, watching as Fox’s trust in her grows, Diana feels a sharp stab of guilt slicing at her Syndicate-twisted ties. 

“There is risk seeking this thing out,” she warns. 

“Risk is my middle name,” he jokes, softening.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d believe you.”

He turns away and looks out the window. “You always did.” 

Her hands clench in time with her chest. 

The Syndicate is right about one thing, at least: Fox Mulder is dangerous. Yes, he’s emotionally damaged — partly because of her — and before seeing him again, she’d questioned whether she'd become emotionally numb in turn. But she cares about him deeply. And until recently, had nearly forgotten just how much. 

Dangerous, indeed. 

Under the security lights of the looming facility, Diana allows herself to indulge in Fox’s handsome features. This man loved her once. Maybe he could again. But will their past remain where they left it, or will history repeat itself?

Handle Mulder, or we will. 

“No matter the outcome, Fox, just remember that I’m protecting the work. Our work.”

For the first time in a long time, what Diana Fowley says feels like the truth. 

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own!

@monikafilefan

[thebibliosphere]

I kinda-sorta recall you mentioning office chairs relatively recently and that maybe going non-ergonomic might help you. Did you end up replacing your chair? If yes, is the new one (hopefully) helping you?

I'm eying the Pipersong https://pipersong.com/products/pipersong-plus for myself at the moment if I can get past the $400 price. I NEED to be able to sit CROSSLEGGED and I'm tired of my legs falling asleep lol. When searching for reviews/opinions on reddit the name popped up a in r/hypermobility and r/ehlersdanos so your previous post came to mind.

I did and it was the best thing I’ve done for my back since I started working desk jobs.

I actually bought a refurbed pipersong chair off their website. I like the leg positioning it allows, but if you’ve got any problems with your tailbone or require more cushion, beware. It can be pretty firm and uncomfy after a while.

I can't use it for more than an hour at a time before my tailbone area gets too sore, and I end up very stiff and in a lot of pain from the seat.

Usually, with chairs like that, I’d add an extra cushion or one of those pelvic/tailbone protector cushions, but the seat is too small to fit one.

If you don't have pelvic or tailbone issues, though, it’ll probably work out great. I just reserve my pipersong for when I need to do elevated work and when I need to fidget more.

The other chair I bought is this one off Amazon, which also fits under my desk and allows me to sit cross legged. The back also hits right in the middle of my back (I’m 5ft 1) which turns out is the perfect height for what my needs. (i can also use it to crack my back without over extending so a+ there)

Anything higher than that seems to cause issues with my shoulders and twisting my hips.

It didn't look very comfy when I first got it, but it doesn't give me any of the tailbone pain I normally get from stiffer seats and I can happily vibe in it in front of the tv for a good few hours and not get any pain.

Bonus points for Holly being able to fit in my lap at the same time.

My only complaint is that I wish it had wheels for better maneuverability.

[iconicofficesposts]

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[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

Making this its own post for organizational porpoises. Based on this sci-fi au idea.

Beatrice watched the massive metal exo-suit clomp toward her across the hangar floor.  Each step was accompanied by a heavy thud and a squeak, courtesy of residual moisture left over from the spray-down in the disinfectant chamber.

When the girl inside the suit noticed her standing there, one of its thickly plated arms rose in a clumsy but enthusiastic wave, nearly knocking over a courier bot in the process.

"Hey, Bea!  Did you see us out there?"  The exo-suit's voice modulator added a mechanical pitch shift to the words, but it did nothing to disguise their exuberance.

"I did," she said, smiling despite herself.  "Your team did well redirecting that asteroid.  Captain Superion will be pleased."

The clomping, clanging legs finally came to a stop in front of her.  "But did you see us?" Ava asked again.  "How cool we were?  We were definitely the most badass team out there.  Cam and I were strapping those charges down like it was our job!"

"It was your job," Beatrice points out, earning a heavily digitized huff.

"You know what I mean!  And Lilith was a real smooth operator.  She was bouncing from hotspot to hotspot so quickly, you'd think she was trying to set a record…  Don't tell her I said that though.  She doesn’t need more fuel for her ego."

"My lips are sealed," Beatrice said, grinning.  "Are you ready to get out?"

"If you're ready to catch me!"

Her smile reversed itself in less than a second.  "Ava, I swear, if you try to dump yourself out of that suit—"

"Huh?  What's that, Bea?" Ava cut her off gleefully.  "Couldn't hear you over the disengage protocol prompt.  Here I go!"

"Ava, no!"  Beatrice rushed forward as the front of the suit opened up, the armored plates pulling away to reveal its interior.  It took her one second too long to notice the giggling coming from the pilot still secured in her harness, but she couldn’t avoid noticing the 1000 terra-watt smile on her face.  "Ava…"

"You should've seen your face!"  The younger girl crowed with delight.  "Bea, you moved so fast!  You should be the one hopping around on asteroids!"

Beatrice’s shoulders slumped with newfound mental exhaustion.  "I couldn't possibly pick a job more stressful than my current one," she grumbled, scowling when Ava just continued to laugh.  "I will leave you in there," she threatened, though it was a toothless one.

"No, you won't," Ava countered easily.  "If you do, I'll just whine until you come back out of sheer annoyance."

"Your resemblance to Jonesy grows more unnerving by the day."

Ava simply smirked.  "Are you saying I'm as cute as a kitten, Bea?"

"You're certainly as lazy," Beatrice responded, sidestepping that comment with considerably more ease than she would have six months ago.

Ava pouted.  "Bea, I give you the perfect opening to call me cute and that's what you do with it?  You dork."

Bea rolled her eyes.  "I'm sure you'll give me other opportunities.  Are you ready to get out or not?"

Ava huffed.  "Yeah, I guess.  This thing is getting kinda warm."  She shut her eyes momentarily to command the safety harnesses to unlock before giving the final disengage order to the suit's neural interface.  Beatrice positioned herself strategically to brace her body against Ava's when she started to slump out.  Protocol called for at least two technicians to help any mobility-impaired pilots out of their exo-suit, but Ava was small enough that Beatrice had no trouble maneuvering her by herself.  She carefully pivoted around while keeping Ava’s upper body secure in her arms, letting the pilot rest her chin on her shoulder as they moved.

The wheelchair waited just behind them, arm and foot rests pulled to the side in anticipation of its occupant.  Beatrice lowered her onto the seat and helped her rest against the cushioned back.  The chair, as with every product developed by the Arq-Tech Corporation, was designed to be ergonomically sound.  It provided complete back and limb support with adjustable settings, and its neural interface had a sensor to detect the presence of its user if they couldn’t move their hands to put it on manually.  Beatrice watched the interface band close around Ava’s head and light up as it synced with her brain's electrical activity.

"Thanks, Bea!" Ava said brightly, directing her chair to spin her in a little circle.  "Another mission knocked out of the star system!  Now I'm starving!  When do you clock out?"

"As soon as the last of the teams make it back, I'll be finished."  Beatrice’s eyes traced over the side of Ava’s chair, catching on the barest bit of a sticker tucked under the girl’s hand.  The sticker, one of an entire set plastered across the device, depicted a cartoon dog whose name Beatrice could not remember no matter how many times Ava told her.  The young pilot loved nothing so much as a new decoration for her wheelchair.  Beatrice’s favorite, however, was not one Ava had chosen, but one that Mary snuck onto the back of the device one night in the canteen.  It was a sign that read “If found, return to Squad Oscar Charlie Sierra”, accompanied by a drawing of a fluffy, grease-covered puppy with big, sad eyes laying underneath the words.  It had been placed over a month ago, and Beatrice was fairly certain Ava still didn’t know it was there.

“Cool!  I still have to shower, but then I’ll see you at dinner?”  Her hopeful smile was a merciless, precision-targeted attack against Beatrice’s mental fortitude.  Captain Superion and the United Earth Fleet could only dream of missile technology so dangerously effective.

“Of course, Ava,” she said gently.  “Save me a seat.”

“You bet!”  With another excited spin of her chair, Ava beamed at Beatrice in farewell before racing down the thoroughfare as fast as the wheels could carry her.  Only once she disappeared through the hangar bay doors did Beatrice feel like her heart could finally settle.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Searching For Redemption (Chapter 4/5)

(Male!Forest Spirit x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Male! Forest Spirit x Gender Neutral! Noble! Reader

Genre: Slow Burn, fluff, historical fantasy

Warnings: Descriptions of Blood and animal violence

Word Count: 2827 words

Summary: You've become accustomed to your new life, if only a bit. How will a trip back into civilization change that?

A/N: We're here!! The penultimate (not final, whoops) chapter!! Next ones going to be a doozy, so I hope y'all enjoy ❤️

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 5

It’s early in the morning, as early as you can go, when you head to the market for the first time.

It had been 3 weeks since marrying Cernon, though it felt like no time had passed at all. Your daily routine of manual labor and organizing made the days bleed together, the nights usually a quick dinner and a crash into bed. Time was kept in your mind by moments with Cernon. He’d slowly begun to talk more and more, chit chatting as you work or while you washed up during the night. He’d even complimented your deweeding skills a few days ago, a small ‘good job’ that had you flush with accomplishment. He was opening up, slowly, but surely.

Being back in town felt surreal. You’d grown used to the murmuring silence of the forest, of being sweaty and filthy as you fed, cleaned, and cooked. Now you’re out on the streets, where people could see you, talk to you, judge you. Unlike when you lived in the castle, there were no intimidating knights or carriage windows to hide behind. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time.

Only a few shops are open, mostly run by older folks who stick to their own schedule. It’s enough for you to pick up essentials from your shopping list, all while still staying discrete.

The first store you enter is one of your old favorites. Not that you had ever been inside, of course, but the cute outdoor patio was one of the favorite sites from the carriage. It was also run by the only shopkeep you knew personally, an adorable older woman, Doreen who would personally deliver the fresh pastries to your driver. She often went out of her way to hand you a couple extra muffins, knowing they are your favorite.

A bell chimes as you push open the door, hot oven air and the smell of fresh pastries washing over you. Those muffins you love are already put out on a platter on top of the display case, a little sign saying ‘Today’s special’ written in fine penmanship.

“In a minute, dear!” An old voice shouts, not silencing the muttering chit-chat from the kitchen. You wondered if the owner had multiple pastry chefs who worked for her, or maybe it was just her family getting ready for the day. You daydream about this hidden life you would have never learned about in the castle as you browse, fingers dancing across the display case.

Theres the swing of a door, pushed open by the owner, her apron already speckled with flour.

“What can I do for you-”

You both jolt when she drops her wooden spoon, finally getting a look at her first customer of the day. Her mouth hangs open and you can feel your ears get hot.

“Um, is everything alright?”

Apparently three weeks of desperately trying to read Cernon has honed your ability, as you can see the million thoughts racing across her face all at once. It’s in her eyes, her posture, and her still open mouth.

But she’s a pro at this game, and as quickly as you notice it she’s composed herself. A big, warm smile replaces the shock.

“I just wasn’t expecting to see you in the flesh, your majesty. To be honest, you’re a bit taller than I thought you’d be, after only seeing you through a window all these years.”

You both laugh, a breath of fresh air as all that anxiety leaves you in a moment.

“I’d imagine so, but I'm sure I lost a few inches from having to hunch in that carriage seat. All that money and you’d think they’d design more ergonomic cushions.”

You can practically hear your father now, scolding you for even daring to imply shoddy castle craftsmanship, even worse, mention money so plainly. It’s unbecoming of a noble, he’d curse at you, before slapping your wrist.

“Oh, and I was just thinking of buying that new silver studded one for my pets.” She jests, patting herself on the arm. “Guess I’ll have to settle for a tiara, times really are tough.” She winks and you chuckle again. The feeling in the air is lighthearted, warm, so different from taking trips to town from before. The conversation is so casual, so easy, you don’t even notice the hushed silence coming from the back, nor the wandering eyes of curious old women.

“Now, what can I get you darling?”

“Nothing crazy, I just remembered how much I loved your sourdough and thought I’d swing by. Oh and can I get five of the muffins, please?” Doreen nods, grabbing a pair of tongs and a satchel as she puts away the pastries. You let your eyes wander to the back shelf, seeing jars of flour, sugar, and even some jams. The large window into the kitchen beckons your gaze, your periphery just glancing three sets of peering eyes, which jerk away as you finally focus.

Huh, weird.

But then you see a neatly wrapped jar, decorated with a blue ribbon, on the shelf. It’s a little more full than the others, with a label and an itty bitty price tag.

“Could I also get some if that fig jam?”

Doreen glances backwards. “Sure thing, hon. I actually just started putting that out today, so you’ll be the first to taste my jam recipe.” Doreen laughed to herself. “Happy to know it will actually sell, too.”

“Well I’m extra excited. My husband loves figs, so I’m sure he’ll give an honest review.”

Doreen pauses mid motion, a muffin dropping into the bag from a limp tong. Somehow, the quiet of the back got even quieter. That familiar tension crawls up your back once more, remembering that first meeting with Cernon. All the fear you had for the beast in the woods.

Doreen coughs, clearly trying to hide her shock. “Well, I look forward to-”

“Whats he like?”

One of the spying eyes from the back pipes up, now easily recognizable as the fruit stand owner down the street. Doreen whips back around to her with a glare.

“Well we know he likes figs, thats for sure?” Says the other spy, the florist form next door.

“I didn’t realize he could eat produce, I assumed it was a meat only situation.” The end of the trio is the head seamstress from the tailors, fidgeting her hands back and forth.

“Ugh, could you imagine the morning breath? I think not.” The fruit stand owner replies, shuddering at the thought. “I won’t even kiss my Henry after he eats a pork pie, nonetheless raw meat.”

“I didn’t say raw meat, I said only meat.” Chides the seamstress. “My god, he’s not an animal.”

“Not like your Henry, at the very least.”

Doreen lays a hand in her hip, unimoressed with their banger. “You ladies done with you’re clucking? I have a customer, here.”

“Sod off, Doreen, you’re saying you’re nor curious?” Fruit stand owner snaps back, but with a friendly chide in her tone. “Besides, they just got married, it’s only polite to ask how the groom’s doing.”

Her other two spies don’t even look to believe her excuse, but Doreen rolls her eyes the hardest.

“Yeah, sure.” Doreen turns back to you “Sorry about them, dear. Y’know us old bats and our gossip.”

“Oh, its okay.” It really isn’t, but the opening they have given you is perfect for your second goal of the day. “I know some people were…shocked by the announcement. But he’s really not as monstrous as people describe, he’s actually very sweet and-”

“Is he romantic?” Fruit stand says, cutting off both you and Doreen. Florist slaps her on the shoulder

“Waste of a question, Marge. Obviously he’s a romantic, we all heard how he proposed.”

“I know that Edith.” Marge backs. “But unlike you, I want to hear the whole story, not what everyone’s talking about it.”

“Oh I bet it was a dream.” Seamstress sighs, a fond look in her eyes. “On one knee, his heart on his sleeve, a ring he crafted from precious gemstones from all over the world. But how did he ask the question?”

“Does he cook? All the best men know how to cook.” Marge adds on, craning her head over the others.

“Cooking’s a plus, sure, but does he know to clean? That's the sign of a real winner.” Edith interjects, crossing her arms like she’s had personal experience with the issue.

“Or does he bring you his prize game from the forest? I read a novel like that once, the male lead seemed like a catch and a half.” The seamstress interjects, that dreamlike look still in her eyes.

Doreen is annoyed, trying to ignore them and encourage you to do so well. But you’re a little shell-shocked. When you had first cooked up the cover story, you thought you'd have to sell it a lot more. You definitely weren’t expecting people to eat it up like the morning gossip, nor did you expect such…questions

The story went that the beast, upon first glance with your majesty, had fallen madly in love. He had fought and killed those knights in an attempt court their highness, convinced in his “barbaric” ways that his feats of strength in defeating rival suitors would prove his worthiness to them.

In an act of courage, your majesty had approached the creature, explaining human courting customs properly. Maddened by affection, the beast gave his deepest apologies and crafted a ring of precious jewels, declaring his love in a proper way. Moved by the beast’s feelings and cordiality, their majesty accepted, leaving behind their life of luxury to be with their one true life.

A part of you wanted to tell them that no, Cernon wasn’t a great chef. That he wasn’t necessarily a romantic per say, usually knee deep in muck and laughing when you slipped and fell. He was bad at keeping things in order and frankly, his hair got everywhere.

But he was good at hunting and he always did the dishes when you cooked for you both. He picked up when you slipped and told you how to stand in the mud so you’re more stable. He helped find a place for all your bathroom products and when he noticed you shivering at night, he’d throw an arm and his blanket around you till you get warm again. Cernon was real, genuine, all the messy things in between.

And he had killed people.

That was why you had sold the romanticism of the story so much. That special kind of longing, almost obsession, that seems so glamorous on the outside that you can forgive all the dirty parts you aren’t experiencing.

You feel a bit sick to your stomach, that soft memory of Cernon’s arms wrapped around now xon striding and hot. It was wet and had a metal tang.

“Dear? Everything alright?” You’re snapped back into the present and out of thr unknown, four old women staring at you curiosly.

“Oh yes, I just…” You pick at your knuckles, an old habit from childhood, “...It’s been so wonderful these past weeks, I guess it’s the honeymoon bliss.” You rest you chin in thr plan if yoru hand for added effect. “Not sure if I’m an accurate witness.”

The three in the back bluster, eyes darting in between each other like they know they're gonna gossip more about this later. Doreen’s smile is softer, content with your own happiness.

“Well, I’m glad to see it’s well and good. Now, you three,” Doreen points her spatula to the hens, “Go back and finish up the dishes from breakfast with these idle hands of yours. It’s too early for this much chit-chat.”

The three graciously retreat, though you do hear a little bit of murmuring of excited banter. Doreen rolls her eyes, handing you your groceries as you pass over some coin.

Before you can back away, she grabs your wrist.

“If you need anything, just always know we’re here, ok dear?” She pats the top of your hand, “You don’t have to do anything alone.”

You smile, whispering a shaky ‘thanks’ and rushing out before the tears fully settle in your eyes.

While it wasn’t necessarily needed, it was nice knowing you had someone in your corner.

—

The rest of the grocery shopping goes by with ease. Most of the shopkeeps are too baffled by your humble appearance to ask any prying questions, even though you can tell they want to. You are even able to pick up some extra stuff for a recipe Cernin wants to try out. He had read it in a cookbook brought from the palace and you had caught him eyeing over the text multiple times since then.

But the hours of stares and walking do get a bit tiring, leaving you drained by the time you reach the forest edge. With the boughs of trees shifting and shadows leaping out of the way to make your way back home, your mind is elft wandering.

Who exactly were you falling for? The beast in the woods, or Cernon?

—

You’re hunched over, wiping sweat from your neck with a handkerchief, when it happens.

It’s the heat of the day, a morning of barn deep-cleaning behind you, and Cernon is in the kitchen grabbing water for you both. As much as he shied away from your more material things, he’s taken up to filling your nice pitcher with lemon water every morning.

You’re a bit away from the house, sitting on a shady patch of grass. The thick forest side looks a little less ominous than before, but still conceals the shuffling and trotting of the boar. It’s only when she trots a few feet away from your patch that you notice her at all, jolting in surprise. She reminds you a bit of Sheila, one of the few pigs you’ve ever met, but far more grizzled. Maybe that's why you don’t feel as anxious as you should when she begins to huff, eyeing you warily. Pure inexperience proves to be to your detriment at this moment. You begin to kiss your lips together, rubbing your fingers together with a false treat. You’ve seen Cernon do this to the girls before.

Maybe she’s hurt? She seems nervous.

You slowly rise to your knees and her size becomes more apparent at eye level. If you had thought your hogs were massive before, that assumption has swiftly been corrected.

It takes only the smallest movement, a 2-inch step forward to spook her. That snuffling you associate with the girls isn’t playful or content, it’s a warning. It’s in a millisecond that you realize you’re in danger, the same millisecond that the boar charges.

You fall from your uneven footing and onto your butt, crawling backwards with wide eyes. The boar's tusks gleam in the light, all hard edges and bone white. Your stomach sinks low, your heart beating directly in your ears. Everything is so fast, colors blurring together, so you barely even register when Cernon pounces on the boar.

All you can see is the strong plane of his back, one set of his arms holding onto the boars tusks and the other digging his hands into the ground. The boar's sheer mass is able to push him back a couple feet, but he uses her tusks as leverage to whip her head around and throw her off her center. His hands lose grip on her weapons, both of them discombobulated as they try to regain the upper hand. His back paws dig leaves trails of upturned dirt behind him.

He swings one of his massive clawed hands at her face, trying to take out her eyes, but he misses. The boar has corrected herself and swings her large head under Cernon’s arms, colliding with his chest with a sickening crack. Spit flies from Cernons mouth as a breath claws its way out of him. His name dies on your lips, terror and shock robbing your voice from you.

But then Cernon roars.

It’s deep, shuddering through the ground and the woods as his claws dig into the boar's sides, raking deep crimson lines as she squeals. He uses both arms to push her up and away from his chest, throwing her against the side of a tree. She collides with a thud but rolls down, body limp.

Cernon falls to his knees, his chest heaving. You scramble onto your legs, nearly face planting as you run toward him.

His eyes, exhausted, swoop towards you. He bites his lip as a shock of pain coils through him, grasping his side. But he’s able to turn towards the house, barely applying pressure to push himself up to stand. Your arms swoop under his shoulders, just above his lower set of arms. The adrenaline is so potent, you don’t even register how heavy he is.

[giantimpex]

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[amaiguri]

Writing Haven Tag

I saw @leahnardo-da-veggie post this Build your writing haven tag! and I had to jump on the open tag here. The rules are, without using any images, describe your ideal place to write.

To be frank though, it's just my ideal bedroom:

I would love to write by mosquito-less bodies of running water with ducks or fish in them. I'd try to feed them sometimes. I'd want a quiet roar when it thundered and rained. And I'd want purple wisteria and the dappled shade of trees out my window in summer and in the winter, long icicles and dreamy white snow. I'd want my springs to be a rainy Seattle winter and my autumns to be bright with crimson leaves that looked like flames in the sunset.

My walls would be full of dried or silk plants (because I'm not responsible enough to keep real ones alive) and sketches and diagrams and maps from around my fantasy world. But in addition to this vaguely-Dark Academia aesthetic, there would be kawaii plushies and bunny-themed cups to make bubble tea. I'd want my keyboard to be like a typewriter keyboard and make those satisfying punchy clicks BUT ALSO it'd just be attached to a normal computer -- though its screen could stand to be framed with an ornate frame. The seats would all tilt my knees ergonomically beneath my hips to improve my posture while enabling me to sit cross-legged. Desk would be close to the floor so I could lie down whenever I wanted.

Architecturally, I'd want the room itself to be a mix between Traditional East Asian and Cottage-core-Western styles. And mostly jeweltones and dark woods BUT with those pops of purple from the flowers and plushies. Bonus points if all the lights look like hanging orbs of some kind with elaborate, iron-wrought hangers. And the floor would need both hard room and deeply cushioned sections. The bathroom would have lavender-flavored soap shaped like cat skulls and ethically-sourced crow bones mounted in the silk-vines on the walls.

And lastly and most importantly, the room needs a bath that is separate from the shower so I can sit in the tub and write on my phone :D

That's my dream bedroom/office... But now I'm going to cheat and use an image under the cut cuz SURPRISE, that's my Vtubing Background, so naturally, I depicted something like my dream for that XDDDD

Gently tagging @maiemorrae, @reaperofcrows, @moonfeatherblue, @dragonprincedawn, but also also, open tag to everyone because that's how I hopped on this tag!

[nest-opia]

🕹️🎮7 Trendy Gamer Room Decoration Tips for Pro Gamers 🎮🕹️

Welcome to the Nest-Opia blog! Today, we're diving deep into the world of gamer room decoration and sharing seven trendy tips to transform your space into a pro gamer's paradise. Whether you're a seasoned pro or just starting out, these tips will help you elevate your gaming setup to the next level!

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7. Comfortable Flooring: Don't overlook the importance of comfortable flooring in your gaming room. Opt for a soft area rug or foam floor mats to provide cushioning underfoot during long gaming sessions. Not only will this enhance your comfort, but it will also help reduce noise and vibrations from your gaming setup.

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By incorporating these trendy gamer room decoration tips into your space, you can create a stylish and functional gaming setup that enhances your gaming experience and reflects your personal style. At Nest-Opia, we offer a wide range of gaming accessories and decor items on Amazon to help you bring your vision to life. Explore our selection today and level up your gaming setup!