#walking aids equipment

[adaptiveequipment]

Zimmer Frame Walker

The Zimmer Frame Walker, a staple in mobility assistance, serves as a reliable support system for individuals seeking enhanced stability and confidence in their daily movements. Characterized by its sturdy frame and adjustable height, the Zimmer Frame Walker offers a secure handhold, aiding those with reduced mobility or recovering from injuries. Its practical design allows for easy manoeuvrability, making it suitable for both indoor and outdoor use. The Zimmer Frame Walker exemplifies a commitment to universal accessibility, providing individuals with a dependable and adaptable tool to navigate their surroundings with greater ease and independence.

[bombaysurgical]

Improving Patient Care with Medical Equipment Suppliers and Hospital Instruments

When it comes to ensuring optimal patient care, having access to high-quality medical equipment and hospital instruments is essential. A reliable medical equipment supplier plays a crucial role in providing healthcare facilities with the necessary tools and devices. Whether it's the latest diagnostic machines or essential everyday items, these suppliers ensure that hospitals and clinics are well-equipped to handle various medical needs.

Comprehensive Range of Hospital Instruments

Hospital instruments are fundamental to the functioning of any medical facility. From surgical tools to diagnostic devices, these instruments are indispensable. A reputable medical equipment supplier offers a wide array of hospital instruments, ensuring that healthcare providers have access to the latest and most efficient tools. This includes everything from stethoscopes and thermometers to more specialized equipment like endoscopes and ultrasound machines. By partnering with a trusted medical equipment supplier, hospitals can maintain the highest standards of care and precision in their treatments.

Walking Aids for Enhanced Mobility

Walking aids are crucial for patients who need assistance with mobility. These aids are not only beneficial for elderly patients but also for those recovering from surgeries or injuries. Among the various walking aids available, the ARREX M30 stands out as a popular choice. The ARREX M30 - LIGHT WEIGHT WALKER is designed for ease of use and maximum support. Its lightweight construction makes it easy for patients to maneuver, while its sturdy design ensures safety and stability. By offering walking aids like the ARREX M30, medical equipment suppliers help patients regain their independence and improve their quality of life.

Renting Patient Beds for Home Care

In addition to hospital instruments and walking aids, the option to rent patient beds is a significant advantage for home care settings. Patient bed on rent services cater to individuals who need a comfortable and functional bed for recovery or long-term care at home. These beds are designed with features like adjustable height, reclining positions, and side rails to ensure the patient's comfort and safety. By providing patient bed on rent options, medical equipment suppliers make it easier for families to care for their loved ones in the comfort of their own homes.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the role of a medical equipment supplier is integral to the healthcare industry. They provide essential hospital instruments, walking aids, and patient bed on rent services that enhance patient care and support recovery. High-quality hospital instruments ensure precision in medical procedures, while walking aids like the ARREX M30 - LIGHT WEIGHT WALKER aid in patient mobility. Additionally, the availability of patient bed on rent services allows for effective home care, making it a convenient option for many families. By continuously supplying these critical tools and services, medical equipment suppliers contribute significantly to the well-being of patients and the efficiency of healthcare providers.

[fairuzfan]

But the other images I had was like a mass refugee camp. So basically at that point in time, two months ago, about 20,000 people had sought refuge both in the hospital and outside the hospital. And these weren’t tents. They’re still not tents. They’re makeshift shelters with bed sheets or plastic bag sheets. The ones outside sleep on the floor. They’re lucky [if] they get a carpet or a mat. There was one bathroom at the time for about 200 people that they have to share. And inside, the hallways of the hospital were also made into shelters. There was hardly any room to walk, and there’s children running around everywhere. It’s important to remember all these people were not homeless. They all had homes that were destroyed. They’re all displaced people that took shelter in the hospital.

So that’s the kind of mass chaos that I encountered initially, and then I was told that every time there’s a bomb, give it about 15 minutes and the mass casualties come. That was the other thing that at the time shocked me: What we’d been seeing livestreamed on Instagram, on social media or whatever, I actually saw myself and it was worse than I can imagine. I saw scenes that were horrific that I’d never witnessed before and I never want to see again. You have a mother walking in holding her 8, 9-year-old, skinny — because they’re all starving — boy who’s dead, he’s cold and dead and [the mother is] screaming, asking for someone to check his pulse and everybody’s busy in the mass chaos. So that was kind of my initial welcoming scene when I entered Khan Younis the first time.

{...}

What I saw — I’m an eye surgeon, an eye plastic surgeon, and so I saw the classic, what I penned “the Gaza shrapnel face,” because in an explosive scenario, you don’t know what’s coming. When there’s an explosion, you don’t go like this [cover your face], you kind of actually, in fact, open your eyes. And so shrapnel’s everywhere. It’s a well-known fact that the Israeli forces are experimenting [with] weapons in Gaza to boost their weapon manufacturing industry. Because if a weapon is battle-tested, it’s more valuable, isn’t it? It’s got a higher value. So basically they’re using these weapons, these missiles that purposely, intently create these large shrapnel fragments that go everywhere. And they cause amputations that are unusual.

Most amputations occur at the weak points, the elbow or the knee, and so they’re better tolerated. But these [shrapnel fragments] are causing mid-thigh, mid-arm amputations that are more difficult, more challenging, and also the rehabilitation afterward is also more challenging. Also these shrapnels [are] unlike a bullet wound. A bullet wound goes in and out; there’s an entry and exit point. Shrapnel stays there. So you gotta take it out. So the injuries I saw were — I mean, I saw people with their eyes blown apart. And when I was there, and this is my experience, I treated all children when I was there the first time. It was kids that [were aged] 2, 6, 9, 10, 13, 15, and 16, and 17 were the ones that I treated. And their eyes unfortunately had to be removed. They had shrapnel in their eye sockets that I had to remove and, of course, remove the eye. There’s many patients, many children who had shrapnel in both their eyes. And you can only do so much because right now, because of the aid blockade and because of the destruction of most of Gaza, there’s no equipment available to take shrapnel that’s in the eye out. And so we just leave them alone and they eventually go blind.

{...}

I was on the ground, I toured the refugee camps, I went around Rafah, I saw, and if there’s an Israeli invasion, I can’t emphasize enough how catastrophic it’s going to be. It’ll be mass killing, mass destruction, because all these figures come in, 50 dead, 100 wounded. But what people don’t realize is, being wounded is a death sentence. Being wounded in this environment with no health care system, completely collapsed, is a death sentence. And the wounded often will lose everybody, like all family members, so they have no supports, especially children, have nobody left to take care of them, not even aunts and uncles. It will be catastrophic. I don’t know what to say to the world to stop an impending invasion. You’ve got to rein this prime minister of Israel in. You got to do something to stop this stupid invasion that he still wants to do, because it’ll be catastrophic.

{...}

I had one young man, about 25 years old, he lost one eye that I took out myself. He spent about five, six, or seven years, basically spent thousands and thousands of dollars in IVF treatment because he got married young and they wanted to have a child and they couldn’t have one. So he spent years on IVF treatment and finally had a baby that was 3 months old. And there was a missile attack by Israel at his home. He lost his entire family, including his baby and his wife and his parents and family. He’s by himself, single guy. I took his one eye out, and he has nobody in this world. He just kind of walks around the tent structures, just kind of walking around with no home and trying to sleep wherever he can.

[mobility2you]

Moving with Confidence: Tips for Effectively Using Your Mobility Aid

An individual may be given a variety of devices to help them move around freely by improving their mobility, coordination, or safety, including walking support. These may also be employed to shift weight from the top of the body to the floor if it is preferred to lessen the burden via the lower part of the body. A major impairment affects roughly 1.3 billion individuals worldwide or 16% of the population.

·         Mobility scooters are best for traveling

Scooters that fold up for mobility are small enough to fit into a vehicle for easy travel.  These scooters may be easily moved from one location to another, saving you much effort and time.  While several mobility scooters are made for persons who are immobile or require help with everyday activities, you can Shop Lightweight and Portable Scooters, which are also perfect for those with restricted mobility.

·         Easy movements with drive Nitro Rollator

The inability to do physical activity and stay active is a common situation for someone with a mobility limitation. The additional assistance provided by rollators allows individuals to exercise freely and comfortably. With a beautiful crimson finish and a design suitable for usage inside and outside, the Drive Nitro Rollator is a contemporary and fashionable walking mobility aid.

·         Walking sticks help improve walking

For senior patients, accidental falls and slips are among the most common reasons for hospitalization.  By enhancing stability and coordination when walking, Disability Walking Sticks can assist in avoiding falls. Additionally, they may ease the movement of those hurt or unwell. Considerations must be made for the various walking stick varieties, grips, and height.

·         Hip Replacement Kit for a Smooth Recovery

If you have arthritis or underwent hip replacement surgery, you will need a Hip Replacement Equipment Kit, which includes canes, crutches, walkers, and safety bars. You can use these devices to assist with tasks like dressing and getting items up from the ground. A hip package can help you adhere to hip care and get used to your restricted mobility after surgery.

Choose the walking assistance that will work best for you before investing. Your walking assistance should be able to satisfy your walking demands without placing an unreasonable physical demand on you.

Mobility2you

provides the necessary equipment at an affordable price for your mobility if you want to recover from injuries or planning to travel.

[a-b-riddle]

Hear me out, but obsessed Simon Riley x reader.

When you’re accused of being a traitor, Simon doesn’t hesitate in getting to work.

Even though you handed over all of your passwords, given them access to anything and everything they him immediately, it did nothing to help. You were going to be crucified.

Price and Laswell had already made the call. A call Simon couldn’t stand by and let happen.

It’s not that Simon believed you when you tried to prove you weren’t the leak.

He simply didn’t care if you were.

He didn't care if you had betrayed them. He didn't care if your innocent nature had truly been an act all along.

It was instinct to get you out of there. Not even for your own safety, but to insure Simon that no one could take you from him. If you remained a free agent, it was only a matter of time before they brought you in. After that, it was out of his hands. You were theres to hurt, to kill and he could do nothing to stop it. So what better way to insure that they can't take you other than taking you for himself?

He simply can’t have someone hurting his bird. So he sets the plan in motion.

Price intends on waiting for the order before executing the extraction plan. They wanted answers. How much did you tell Makarov? What did he know?

Simon was a step ahead. It was easy enough hiding in your garage, waiting for you to come home. The darkness of the night had aided him. You were blindly walking to the door connecting to your kitchen before you felt it. The gloved hand around your mouth and the sharp pinch in your neck.

When you wake up chained to a bed in a dark room, you knew you were as good as dead. They had taken you. This was it and you couldn't plead your case anymore than you already had. All your efforts in trying to prove your innocence were futile.

When Simon stepped in, still in his tactical gear your heart sank. He still had on his mask. Fully equipped. The knives on his side gleaming menacingly as the one light in your cell shined down on him. You swore that you would never betray him, the 141 or Laswell.

“Simon,” you begged already scurrying farther back toward the headboard, trying to create more distance. “I didn’t do it. I swear.” He didn’t stop his slow steps. Even as you began to cry. Even as you curled your body into a tight ball.

You sobbed as you pleaded for mercy, begging for your life. Your shaking violently as you felt him get on the bed. The frame creaking under his weight. You closed your eyes, turning your head away as you readied your self for the final blow to come. Wordlessly began unlocking the metal cuffs.

"Shhh," he soothed. "None of that now." He took your wrists in his hand before softly running his thumbs where the metal cuffs had left an imprint. “Couldn’t have you running off.” He explained, his tone... gentle. Speaking to you as if you were child. "That sedative can give you a pretty rough wake up call. Didn't need you hurtin' yourself. Needed to have a chat first.” He went on to explain you were in his home. Where he wouldn’t disclose. Only that you were safe.

You were safe.

You weren't going to be tortured.

You weren't going to be killed for something you didn't do. Your eyes filled with tears as you realized he was on your side. “You believe me.” You said, the tears resuming for a completely didn't reason. Relief flooded you and you had to stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him.

“No,” his correction made your heart drop into your stomach.

"But..." You press your back hard against the wooden headboard. There's no where else to go. Nowhere else to run. "You said I was safe." He sighed. Tears flowed down your cheeks as he put his hand gently where your neck and jaw me.

"You are safe." But, if he didn’t believe you... why were you here? “I don’t care if you did it. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He reassured, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. Then he spoke so softly, you could have sworn he was talking more to himself than he was you. “Not going to let anything hurt you.”

It took you a moment to process it.

Simon had taken you... You were in his home and no one knew you were here. You didn't even know where exactly you were.

And Simon was touching you.

He was touching you. After years of working together, Simon was caressing your cheek. Showing such softness that it actually scared you. He took note of how he could feel your heart rate even through his glove.

"Why?"

“I’m protecting you.” He said, growing irritated that you weren't getting it. “Do you have any idea what they would have done to you?" He asked rhetorically, waiting rather patiently for you to be thanking him for saving you.

"Do..." Your head began to spin, trying to pull your mind away from all the possibilities on what could have happened. "Do I have to stay here?" You asked.

Simon was a patient man, but you beginning to test that patience. He let out a huff before pulling his hand away and placing it on your bare knee.

"Just until it all gets sorted." He lied, giving you a squeeze that he could only hope was reassuring. Even after they found the leak, you wouldn't be leaving him.

"Oh." You swallowed, nodding in understanding. "Okay." You let out a staggered breath trying to calm down. You were going to have to stay in this confined space, already feeling the claustrophobia creeping in as you felt the dark cement walls move in closer and closer. "Is there a bathroom I can use in here?" You asked, praying he wouldn't leave you with a bucket and a roll of toilet paper.

Simon laughed. He actually barked out a laugh, making you jump. "I meant you'll have to stay here with me." He clarified. "Not in the basement."

"Oh," the tenseness in your body seemed to ease up. "Good. It just feels..." you didn't finish. Too afraid to insult the man who quite literally held your life in his hands.

"No worries." he assured, finally taking his hand off of you to stand up. He held his palm out waiting for you to take his hand.

Without thinking twice, you did. Letting him help you stand even though your legs felt like they would give out at any minute. At the slight wobble of your knees, Simon took the liberty of scooping you up. A gasp escaping you.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Afraid that even though you had seen the man basically serve as a human battering-ram, you were afraid he would somehow drop you.

Simon's fingers ached to feel the softness of your thighs. He wanted to badly to come downstairs without his gear on. Bare himself to you. Reveal the face of the man behind the mask. Scars and all. He was worried that would have made it worse. Waking up in a basement, handcuffed to a bed with an unknown man aching to touch you.

He would show you his face soon enough. You would grow to love it. Each scar and imperfection on his face. His crooked nose and the touch of his calloused hands.

He planned to have you begging for it. To pepper kisses along his cheeks. Beg for his touch on your skin. Begging him to bury his fingers, his cock inside you. You would ache for him just as he had ached for you all this time.

You would fall as deeply as he had.

You would come to love your life with Simon.

No matter how long it took you to accept it.

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

Selfish - Alastor x Reader Oneshot

You face-planted on your bed, what semblance of energy you had left disintegrating and blowing away in the wind.

Today was too long a day.

Charlie needed some comfort after seeing the news roast the hotel again.

Vaggie needed to be calmed down because everyone got on her nerves.

Angel Dust needed a good hug and reassurance that he was worth something.

Husk had drank too much and threw the empty bottle at you when said as much. (He apologized afterward and the guilt made it easier for you to usher him to bed)

Lucifer was disassociating hardcore and you had to walk him through basic selfcare.

Nifty....Was Nifty.

Not that you minded that they needed different help here and there. Everyone needed a helping hand, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen to. And as far as you were concerned, it really was the least you can do. You couldn't fix their problems, but you can carry some of the load for them. That was...something, right?

A knock on the door made you grimace. Masking your agitation with a neutral expression, you opened your door to see none other than the Radio Demon himself.

He grinned down at you, his arms crossed behind his back, his posture straight, his clothes smooth and unwrinkled.

But...his grin seemed a bit strained, at the corners.

Alastor was difficult to comfort as he insisted he didn't have emotions anyway. And he hated to be touched. And his favorite food was raw venison or demon meat. So most of your techniques didn't have much ground.

However, he did love to laugh. So when he needed it, you would often play the role of a clown.

You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms across your chest and looked up at him with an exaggerated grin.

"Whazzzzah?" You said, intentionally making your voice nasally and high pitched.

Alastor picked you up like a suitcase and carried you back to your bed, sitting you down on the edge of it and kneeling in front of you. His expression didn't change as his eyes flicked over you.

You swallowed thickly. "Er...What bees the ups my dudes?"

No change in expression. No confusion, no mild irritation.

You started to get fidgety. Maybe you needed some new material? You like doing the funny voices and the purposely incorrect grammar, but if he was sick of it it'd be-

You train of through abruptly derailed as Alastor's hand came up to cradle your face. The other one brushing some of your hair out of your eyes. One claw lightly grazed your skin and you winced.

"So Husker's little fit did hurt you, hm?" He said, pressing the pad of his thumb against a spot typically hidden by your bangs - now adorned with a partially scabbed-over cut.

You winced again "What're you talking about?"

"Oh, my dear. I heard what happened between the two of you. The drunkard got a bit too brash and ended up hurting you."

You sighed "It was an accident."

Alastor's eyes narrowed "Ah yes, it's always an accident with you."

You met his glare "What do you mean by that?"

The Radio Demon waved his hand, materializing some first-aid equipment. He didn't even let you know when he applied some antiseptic to your cut making you hiss through gritted teeth.

"A little heads up would've been nice!"

"An accident, my dear."

You deflated immediately "Ah. Okay, sorry-"

"Thank you for proving my point." He cut you off, a slight growl to his voice. Alastor slapped a bandage over your wound and pulled back, glaring at you intently.

"Huh?"

He rolled his eyes "Everything everyone ever hurts you with is an 'accident' to you. No one ever means to hurt you."

You scowled "Husk didn't mean to hurt me!"

"You're allowed to be mad you know." He huffed "Even if it was an 'accident', you could be mad he threw a fucking glass bottle at you!"

"He didn't mean to." You insisted.

"And Charlie didn't mean to dump all her woes on you, and Vaggie didn't mean to make you play peacemaker, and Angel Dust didn't need you to be a therapist. And Lucifer didn't need you to play nurse. And nifty...." he trailed off, unsure how to categorize your helping Nifty today. He shook it off and met your eyes. You glared back at him and pushed him away.

"No! None of them meant to! I chose to-"

"Would it really kill you to be selfish once in a while?" He said, tilting his head. Red eyes narrowed as his ears pinned back on his head.

"Firstly, i'm already dead. Secondly, I'm always selfish!"

"Give me an example."

"WELL, Mister Everything-Is-My-Business, I slept in to like, noon, yesterday-!"

"Because you spent all night listening to Vagatha."

"-and yesterday I ate the last of the spaghetti-!"

"From the meal you skipped while you helped Nifty hunt bugs."

"I hid in my room all day-!"

"Due to everyone not paying any attention to your immense discomfort at their ruckus."

"...You're dumb." You said, crossing your arms across your chest. Alastor rolled his eyes and pushed you down so you were lying on your bed. His hands were on either side of your head as he leered over you.

"Despite doing nothing but listening to everyone's endless ramblings all day, you're immediate reaction upon seeing me is to play jester and make me feel better."

"You looked upset." You said.

Alastor sighed "Exactly your problem, my dear." He moved away so he wasn't pinning you to your bed, calmly removing his monocle to clean it before gingerly placing it back onto his face.

You rolled onto your side to watched him. "...I don't think it's a problem to care."

"It is a problem to care too much."

"Well, you don't care enough so I guess we even eachother out."

Alastor hummed, looking away from you. You bit your lip. Maybe...you pushed that too far? You never really held back the sass with Alastor, but he was already irritated....

"Ask me for something." He said.

"Eh?"

He snorted, ears flopping in agitation "As you said, you care too much, i care too little. So now we'll do this: you care less about what I want and you care more about what you want."

You blinked, confused "....That's. Oddly sweet of you?"

Alastor snorted in response, still locked in a staring contest with the opposite wall. There seemed to be a bit of red creeping up the sides of his face.... Now was he turning red because he was mad or because he was....flustered?

"So. Can i ask you for anything?"

"Within reason."

"....Can I get a hug?"

The record scratch was audible.

"You have the Radio Demon offering you to do a favor for nothing in return, and you ask for a hug?"

"That's what I want?" You said, snuggling underneath your duvet. "Don't worry about it if you don't wanna-"

"Oh for the LOVE OF!" Alastor cut himself off, grumbling something under his breath that did not sound as jovial as his permanent grin may imply.

The man briefly disappeared into a puff of shadows before reappearing under the duvet with you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing your head into his chest.

You laughed. "Was it that hard to just lift the blanket?"

"Quiet, you." Alastor muttered into your hair. You sighed contently, snuggling closer to him.

"Can I hug you back?"

He tensed up next to you, so you dropped it. Despite his insistence on you being selfish, he didn't push you any further. Instead relaxing more as you made no move to hold him.

"Thanks, Alastor. I'm gonna drift off, so you can head out if ya want." You mumbled into his shirt.

"We'll see."

You didn't bother trying to fight sleep, letting the exhaustion of the day catch up with you and your troubles drift away as you listened to the Radio Demon's heart.

Alastor was still there when you woke up, but don't you dare mention it.

[probablyintensemuses]

Dating Armando Aretas Would Include:

Grumpy x Sunshine Edition

🎧- Enchanted: Taylor Swift

pairing: Armando Aretas x black fem! reader

themes: grumpy x sunshine w/drabble

warnings: mentions of trauma & abuse, strong language, and a bit of gore.

authors note: I saw Bad Boys 4 again last night and it’s really refueled my Armando obsession, so more headcannons, drabbles, and fics on the way.

✨First Encounters✨

You and Armando meet in the worst of circumstances.

He, his father, and Marcus were on the run as wanted men, and you were the first person Mike thought to turn to after the attack at Tabatha’s.

Which he wasn’t wrong, you’d give your left kidney to Mike he’s saved you so many times.

You had let them into your small apartment, offering them clothes, food, and shelter until they could get in touch with the rest of the Ammo team and sort this shit out.

Armando had taken an interest to you then. Your house was warm and cozy, lived in. A small, plush couch, next to a coffee table littered with medical books. A kitchen stacked with teas and espressos , a dresser with vintage vinyls and a record player beside it. This was the kind of house he’d like to live in if he lead a different life.

You remember walking over to him, a picture of your parents and you when you were young in his hands.

“Those are my parents,’ you say. “I was ten then.”

Armando’s gruff exterior takes over though, and he doesn’t give you as much as a word back, let alone a thank you for feeding and housing literal fugitives.

You figured it was just him though and let it roll off you back like water.

You all got some sleep and the next day Mike asks you to drive them out to Dorn’s house on the dock. You agree and begin to load up the truck with guns, water, food, and extra clothes for the drive.

This is when Armando starts to question who you are and the legitimacy of your actions. Last person Mike trusted fucked them over, and he wasn’t having that shit again.

So he pulls his father aside and confronts him on the situation: you.

“How can we trust her?” Armando says, not far out of earshot of you.

“She’s good for it, trust me.”

“Didn’t you say that the last time and we got sold out. Don’t forget there is fucking five million dollar bounty on our heads. We can’t trust no one!” He whisper-shouted.

Mikes shoulders dropped. “I saved her life when she was younger, and I used to work with her parents. Trust me, she’s not going to pull a fast one. Because if she was, she would have done it already.”

Armando looked over at you, you’re dressed in a tank top, and that’s when he notices the cuts and burns littering your left arm. He sucks in a deep breath eyeing Mike who looks at you with sympathy too. There’s a story there, he’ll piece it together later, but for now he guesses you’re his only hope of getting out alive.

✨Post-fallout ✨

After you didn’t screw them over, and got them safety to Dorn’s, Armando found himself limping towards your apartment, blood trailing behind his feet.

Mike had sent him, and for some reason, at that moment, your place felt like exactly what he needed.

With the last of his energy, he banged on your door. Shortly, you answered and immediately went into panic mode.

The moment you let him inside, Armando crashes to the floor, passing out.

You screech and get every first aide equipment you have on hand and begin to bandage him up and stop the bleeding.

It took two bloody, sweaty hours, but you eventually got him all closed up.

Armando woke the next morning in a bed he didn’t recognize. This sent him into a frenzy. He went to shoot up out of the bed, but the soreness of his injuries knocked him back down.

“Fuck,” he moaned, grabbing at his torso.

From the living room, you turn down your headphones at the sound of movement. Armando must be awake.

Two days of rest, not bad.

You move towards the microwave and reheat the breakfast you had made him, pour some orange juice, and bring a whole heck of a lot of water and pain-pills.

Tray in hand, you kick open the door and slip inside your bedroom.

“Good morning.” You smile, setting the tray on the bed by his side. “How do you feel?”

“What the fuck did you put in this.” Armando asks, eyeing the food.

“Eggs, bacon, and toast.” You snicker.

Armando lifts a piece of toast, taking a bite. “If I die from this, I’ll kill you.”

“Noted, Sarg.” You salute.

You watch Armando eat his food with a smile on your face.

Eventually he looks up at you scowling. “Why are you staring at me.”

You shrug. “I’m just happy you’re okay.” You say truthfully.

“Well,’ Armando takes a swig of water, downing the pills. “Go be happy somewhere else.”

Your shoulders drop and you let out a sigh, you knew Armando was tough, but geez, you practically saved his life. Would it kill him to be a little nice?

But still you smile when you say, “okay, well if you need me, I’ll be out in the living room studying. Feel free to roam around, I don’t mind.”

It was a couple hours before Armando had come out of your room, limping over to the kitchen and rummaging through your fridge.

“I’m making dinner right now,’ you say, pausing your television show. “It’s a roast with veggies.”

“I want a beer.” He grumbles.

“Well I don’t have beer, but I do have wine.” You say, pointing to you collection of reds and whites.

“ I don’t want wine.”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do?”

Armando comes over to you, cornering you into the tiny space between your sink and the counter. “Get me a beer.”

“Let’s start over,’ you stick out your hand for a shake. “I think we’re at a misunderstanding of our situation.”

Armando frowns at your response, grumbling Spanish curses under his breath and walking away, slamming your door like a toddler.

The roast was done, and eventually you got Armando to come and have dinner with you…kind of.

He sat on the couch and watched the news, for updates on the status for his search, and you sat at the table, contemplating what to do with him next.

✨Enemies, Friends, Roomates✨

Mike had told you harboring Armando would only be for a short while until he could figure something out with the D.A’s office….that was three months ago.

Eventually you got your bed back, Armando taking the couch, but not your sanity.

Living with Armando wasn’t easy. He was brash, stand-offish, stubborn, and mean.

You did everything to try and form some kind of bond with him, even buying him gym equipment offline, but it just never clicked for him.

Not until one night when you’re studying late for an exam and happen to fall asleep at the kitchen table, books all around you.

That’s when you fall into a nightmare. The man who ruined your life the star of the show, again.

It always starts the same. You and your parents living happily at the park. Your parents watch you as you swing higher and higher, giggles filling the air. Then a man appears at the edge of the park, beckoning your parents over. You scream and shout for them but they never turn back, they keep going to the man. And when he has your parents in his grip, he brandishes a knife, slicing them open.

You let out a blood curling scream, slamming awake and falling to the group. Sweat sticks your curls to your face as you cry and gasp for breath.

Armando’s up in a second, swarming you.

“Estás bien?’ He pats you down, checking you out. “What’s happened to you?”

You can’t do anything but cry. The man who’s ruined your life, he’ll never leave you…he made sure of that in many ways. His latching to you is so deep that you can’t even escape him when you sleep.

You finally are able to get some words out, tell Armando, “I had a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,’ he helps you stand. “Maybe you should get some sleep in your bed.”

You’re shocked by his response, but you’re even more shocked by the way he helps you to your room.

“What are you doing?” You asks, confused.

“You just flew out your chair from a nightmare, what do you mean what am I doing? I’m helping you.”

“Yeah, I get that…but you never help me.”

Armando sighs, holding his hands at his hips. “You gonna tell me what it was about, or should I leave.”

You sigh. “When I was younger, my parents worked for the Miami Police Department. They were detectives and before I was born they ended up helping catch this serial killer. His name was Gunter Bennett but the media called him “The Gutter” because that’s how he killed. Years later, somehow he escaped prison. That’s when he came for my parents. He killed them in the middle of the night.’ You take an uneasy breath, finding birth relief and shock when Armando’s hand slips into yours. “And I was sure he was going to kill me too, but he didn’t…he did worse. He kidnapped me and kept me at some shithole for three years. Three.”

You rile up your sleeves and show all your burns and cuts. Armando remembers them from the first day he met you.

“It’s how I got these. That sadistic bastard,’ you cry. “He tortured me.”

Armando feels something in him snap hearing your story and seeing the ways it’s effected you, even now. He knows what it’s like to be harmed and loose the people closest to you.

So he shocks even himself with what does next, scooping you up like a wounded bird and nuzzling under the blankets with you.

You whimper and sniffle in his arms and he just hushes you, stroking your curls.

“It’s going to be alright, niña bonita, he’s gone now.”

Slowly, the exhaustion of work, school, and your tears overcome you and you both drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.

✨My Lover✨

Armando was jealous.

You two had just spent the day out shopping, laughing and talking. Hell, you two live together! And yet you’re grinding on another man at the bar?!

The glass in Armando’s hand shakes and chips as he squeezes it further.

“Relax, muscle milk. You’ll break the glass.” Marcus says.

Armando scowls at him.

“I’m just saying, if you love her, tell her.” Marcus shrugs, walking away.

Armando scoffs. Love? Yeah right.

Did he feel close to you, yes.

Want to spend every breathing moment with you, yes.

Touch himself in the shower thinking about you, yes .

Oh fuck…he did love you.

Fuck! He loved you and you’re grinding another man!

Armando pushed out of his chair, it clattering to the ground in his wake.

He stalked over to you, grabbing your wrist and putting room between you and the man you danced on.

“ ‘Mando, what are you doing?” You stumble, clearly drunk.

“Let’s go.” He grabs you, chest heaving.

“Hey, wait!” You swat at him as he drags you through the bar and out the exit. “Why would you do that?” You whine.

“Because you’re drunk.” He rolls his eyes, slinging his leather jacket over your naked shoulders.

“I’m not!’ You whine, stumbling, luckily Armando catches you with ease. “I am.”

“You are. Let’s go.” He says, slinging you and carrying you bridal shower.

“Ah,’ you say, wrapping your arms around Armando’s neck and snuggling into him. “My knight in shining armor always takes such good care of me.’ You lean over, smacking his butt with a giggle.

“Shut up.” Armando says, resisting the urge to crack a smile.

Home, Armando tucks you into bed. He’s just about to walk away when you snatch his wrist, pulling him on top of you.

“Let’s play a game,” you whisper.

Armando rolls his eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth for truth. I tell you a truth and you do the same. “I’ll start.” You giggle.

“Tonight went exactly how I planned.”

Armando pulls back. “What do you mean by that?”

You shake your head and pout. “Uh uh. You’re turn.”

Armando sighs. “I don’t actually find you that annoying…anymore.”

“Ah, I knew it!” You laugh.

“Knew what?”

“Game over.’ You slump and snore, pretending to sleep.

“Stop it, you knew what?” Armando lifts you.

You bop his nose. “I knew that you loved me.”

Armando’s eyes get big. “What?”

“Me and kelly paid that guy to dance with me. We knew you’d get mad and that was all the proof I needed.”

“You’re a dick.” He starts to walk away, but you grab him by his belt loop.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You pull him back. “But you don’t have to be shy.” You hiccup.

Armando grumbles, nuzzling his face into your stomach. “And why’s that?”

You lift his head, angling it to face you. “Because I love you too.” You lean forward, placing a firm kiss onto his plump lips.

Armando reciprocates, opening his mouth turning the kiss fierce and hot. He climbs on top of you, mumbling against your lips. “And I thought you were supposed to be the nice one.”

You giggle. “Feels good to be bad for a change.”

[nyarumie]

What if Soshiro's girlfriend was nice to Weapon 10 because it saved his life and instead of being flustered 10 also start liking her and now Soshiro feels like he has to share his gf with the suit!!

A small continuation to 'Suit Anomaly', based from this ask! (Click here for Part 3)

Author's Reply: Hi, Anon! This sounds adorable! His gf's semi rude attitude towards No. 10 was because of the injuries Soshiro got from their fight, but she's not a totally cold person so I can see this happening! I shall do my best ♡

Requests and messages are welcome on my ask box! I can also write for Narumi and Mina (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

Just a few weeks after the nationwide cataclysm orchestrated by Kaiju No. 9, you once again found yourself standing in the very same training facility right after a small kaiju attack from the previous day. This time, you’re equipped with your own numbers weapon just in case it goes haywire after all the damage it sustained.

“How does it feel?” you ask him.

“Still as uncomfortable as ever,” he said. “Can’t say this thing’s more tame now, it’s as battle hungry as always; but it kinda listens to me and has a l’il bit of common sense now.”

You snort, hearing No. 10 roar an “Are you saying I’m stupid?!” at him.

Knowing him, Soshiro just refuses to tell the truth: He’s grown comfortable wearing his numbered suit, despite the strain it deals on his body. It’s particularly crazy how he’s able to wear it and fight using it again just after a few days of being discharged from the medbay—any normal officer wouldn’t be able to walk after that destructive fight.

"Hmm… You both did well in yesterday's fight," you started, followed with a sigh, "But you didn't need to go all-out at all. They were just small fry!"

Soshiro comically scratched his head, "No offense sweetie, but I think you're just upset you didn't get to kill one yesterday. This guy wanted to wipe 'em all out for ya. Some kind of thanks for actively watchin' over the suit's repair."

"I didn't say anything like that!" it complained.

Soshiro crossed his arms and complained, "Ya keep dragging me to her area! Told ya she's as strong as we are, but you kept screaming at me saying somethin' like 'Oi, Hoshina! Ain't you gonna protect your little foul mouthed girlfriend?!'"

"Stop lying! I just wanted to get a higher kill count; you're being too lousy in battle!"

'Ah… compatibility aside, the arguments aren't stopping soon.' you thought.

You cleared your throat, getting their attention back to you. "If that's the case, then I extend my deepest gratitude to you both—but you don't have to worry about me!"

Proceeding to closely inspect the suit, you went down on one knee and thoroughly observed its tail, which had been severed during their fight with Kaiju no. 12. You started caressing it, seemingly deep in thought.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! I told you I'm not a pet!"

Soshiro just quietly observed the scene, curious at your actions.

Going to stand in front of Soshiro again, you bent your upper body forward to meet the Kaiju's eye.

For the first time since he's donned this suit, you gave it a sincere smile. "I give you my deepest thanks for protecting Soshiro. You did well."

Silence.

After a minute of solid silence, the tail started aggressively swaying around and a frantic scream from Okonogi caught yours and Soshiro's attention.

"Vice Captain! Platoon Leader! I advise you to end the monitoring session—the suit's rapidly overheating for no reason!"

Eh?

Soshiro started pulling the tail, trying to get it to behave. "You cyclops! Keep still! My girlfriend's not flirtin' with ya, not with a Kaiju!"

"Cyclops?! I'm not even doing anything, bowlcut bastard!"

As you laugh at the entertainment in front of you, the Kaiju detection alarm goes off.

"Let's go. Make sure you let me kill some today, alright?" you said, mood heightened.

That being said…

In the midst of the battle, it took Soshiro a great deal of strength just to stop the Kaiju suit from rushing towards your aid.

The both of them started arguing again after the fight, as Soshiro saw how its tail was subtly waving when you approached them, as if asking to be caressed again.

"Ya don't get to ask my girlfriend to touch yer tail! I'm not sharin' her with you!"

"I didn't ask her anything! And would you look at that, she's already touching it!"

With a pout akin to that of a child getting their lollipop stolen, Soshiro said, "Dear, ya don't have to do that! I'm right here!"

You giggled, wanting to tease him a bit. "And I can see you well enough, 'Shiro. You'll get your kisses later, yeah?"

He groaned, continuing their seemingly never-ending argument.

Oh, you can get used to this.

[normal-with-adhd-is-a-joke]

Places with "just a few steps" aren't accessible to ambulatory wheelchair users, either. This isn't an angry post because I don't know if full time wheelchair users really understand that, but a lot of ambulatory users are just as fucked when encountering a step as full time users. The problem is not that ambulatory users are the only people being accommodated. The problem is that business don't think or care about any wheelchair user and ambulatory users are only sometimes accommodated by accident and only if they're a very specific kind of ambulatory. The "well we're accessible if you can walk a little" excuse is just that, an excuse to try to pin the problem on the wheelchair user rather than the business. It's not even a valid excuse because it fundamentally and perhaps intentionally misunderstands how a lot of ambulatory wheelchair users live.

I'm ambulatory but sitting up uses a large amount of my energy, almost as much as standing does. I use a Permobil M3 Corpus that has power tilt, recline, and footrest adjustment so I can adjust into an energy preserving position. My chair weighs 400lbs and I'm not leaving it outside or in a lobby so I can do a "couple of steps". I don't think the usually minimum wage employees get paid enough to babysit a $13000 piece of equipment that is virtually irreplaceable and vital to my freedom. I'm not the only person who can't get my chair over stairs and can't afford to leave it behind. There are plenty of ambulatory powerchair users. There are plenty of ambulatory users who can't lift their own chairs and don't want strangers touching their mobility aid. There are plenty of ambulatory users who can't do stairs at all. Most ambulatory wheelchair users don't want to leave their chair behind out of fear that it will be stolen or misplaced.

This isn't a time for pointing fingers and "who does society like better"ing each other. It's a time for demanding that the law be followed and new laws be put in place together so that no one has to sacrifice their safety and comfort to access necessities or entertainment or be barred from those things entirely.

[cy-cyborg]

Writing and drawing amputee characters: Not every amputee wears prosthetics (and that's ok)

Not every amputee wears prosthetics, and not doing so is not a sign that they've "given up".

It's a bit of a trope that I've noticed that when an amputee, leg amputees in particular, don't wear prosthetics in media its often used as a sign that they've given up hope/stopped trying/ are depressed etc. If/when they start feeling better, they'll start wearing their prosthetics again, usually accompanied by triumphant or inspiring music (if it's a movie). The most famous example of this is in Forest Gump, Where Dan spends most of the movie after loosing his legs wishing he'd died instead. He does eventually come around, and him finally moving from his wheelchair to prosthetics is meant to highlight this.

The thing is, it's not that it's unrealistic - in fact my last major mental health spiral was started because one of my prosthetics was being a shit and wouldn't go on properly, despite fitting perfectly at the prosthetist's the day before. I'm not going to use my legs when I'm not in a good headspace, but the problem is, this is the only time non-prosthetic using amputees ever get representation: to show how sad they are. Even if that's not what the creator/writer necessarily intended, audiences will often make that assumption on their own unless you're very careful and intentional about how you frame it, because it's what existing media has taught them to expect.

But there are lots of reasons why someone might not use prosthetics:

they might not need them: this is more common in arm amputees because of how difficult it can be to use arm prosthetic, especially above-elbow prosthetics. Most folks learn how to get on without them pretty well. In fact, most of the arm amputees I know don't have prosthetics, or only have them for specific tasks (e.g. I knew a girl who had a prosthetic hand made specifically for rowing, but that's all she used it for).

Other mobility aids just work better for them: for me, I'm faster, more manoeuvrable and can be out for longer when I'm in my wheelchair than I ever could on my prosthetics. Youtube/tik tok creator Josh Sundquist has said the same thing about his crutches, he just feels better using them than his prosthetic. This isn't the case for everyone of course, but it is for some of us. Especially people with above-knee prosthetics, in my experience.

Other disabilities make them harder to use: Some people are unable to use prosthetics due to other disabilities, or even other amputations. Yeah, as it turns out, a lot of prosthetics are only really designed for single-limb amputees. While they're usable for multi-limb amps, they're much harder to use or they might not be able to access every feature. For example, the prosthetic knee I have has the ability to monitor the walk cycle of the other leg and match it as close as possible - but that only works if you have a full leg on the other side. Likewise, my nan didn't like using her prosthetic, as she had limited movement in her shoulders that meant she physically couldn't move her arms in the right way to get her leg on without help.

Prosthetics are expensive in some parts of the world: not everyone can afford a prosthetic. My left prosthetic costs around $5,000 Australian dollars, but my right one (the above knee) cost $125,000AUD. It's the most expensive thing I own that I only got because my country pays for medical equipment for disabled folks. Some places subsidise the cost, but paying 10% of $125,000 is still $12,500. Then in some places, if you don't have insurance, you have to pay for that all by yourself. Even with insurance you still have to pay some of it depending on your cover. Arm prosthetics are even more expensive. Sure, both arms and legs do have cheaper options available, but they're often extremely difficult to use. You get what you pay for.

they aren't suitable for every type of environment: Prosthetics can be finicky and modern ones can be kind of sensitive to the elements. My home town was in a coastal lowland - this means lots of beaches and lots of swamp filled with salty/brackish water. The metals used in prosthetics don't hold up well in those conditions, and so they would rust quicker, I needed to clean them more, I needed to empty sand out of my foot ALL THE TIME (there always seemed to be more. It was like a bag of holding but it was just sand). Some prosthetics can't get wet at all. There were a few amputees who moved to the area when I was older who just didn't bother lol. It wasn't worth the extra effort needed for the maintenance.

People have allergies to the prosthetic material: This is less of a problem in the modern day, but some people are allergic to the materials their prosthetics are made from. You can usually find an alternative but depending on the type of allergy, some people are allergic to the replacements too.

Some people just don't like them.

There's nothing wrong with choosing to go without a prosthetic. There's nothing wrong with deciding they aren't for you. It doesn't make you a failure or sad or anything else. Using or not using prosthetics is a completely morally neutral thing.

Please, if you're writing amputees, consider if a prosthetic really is the best mobility aid for your character and consider having your characters go without, or at least mix it up a bit.

For example, Xari, one of the main characters in my comic, uses prosthetics unsupported and with crutches, and uses a wheelchair. They alternate between them throughout the story.

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 30: Freeuse - Winter Soldier

Summary: He was your patient. You were in charge of making sure all of his needs were met, no matter what they were.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, non-consensual elements, dubious content, freeuse, discussion of injuries, violence, masturbation, fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, stalking (kinda), possessive

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

He was your priority. Hydra had recruited you with the hopes of creating an experiment to see if anyone could be trained to look after the assassin frozen in a Cyrogentic state. You were trained and kept underground to be the lead carer and doctor for the Winter Soldier. He was yours to look after, physically and mentally. After each mission you sent him on, he’d return and give you the reports. Most importantly, you were always the first face he’d see before and after being on the ice.

The Soldier would answer to you and Alexander Pierce, but even that was touchy sometimes as he would look to you before answering Pierces’ questions as if he was asking for permission to talk. 

What’s more, is that you knew who he was outside of his assassin's status. James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, born in 1917, was the best friend to the one and only Captain America, Steve Rogers, who was currently alive, having been found in the ice and unbeknown to him, his best friend was also alive with similar super solider serum pumping through his veins. Steve was Bucky’s potential saviour; one day, you hoped to be there when this could become a reality; however, currently, you were watched so closely by everyone in Hydra that you’d not even been able to contemplate a plan as to how to break him out. Until then, he was your priority, keeping him out of harm's way as much as possible.

Alexander Pierce had given you strict instructions to adhere to every single need that may affect or alter the soldier's performance as the ghostly assassin. At first, you just assumed it was to feed him, wash, cut his hair, make sure he was healthy and metal arm was working to its best ability. But the basic human need for the Winter Soldier ran deeper than that, causing your role as his doctor and carer to be blurred and something more developed.

The longer he was out of the ice, the more you would notice his increasing frustrations that couldn’t be erased with a simple afternoon in the gym or sparring with other guards. There were even days when no one could calm him down, his aggression so high that he had to be sedated if you were not available to talk to him.

For example, there was once a day when you were actually off of the unit, in your new flat, having just been granted the allowance to live there when Rumlow came knocking on your door. He only gave you the courtesy of putting on your shoes before gripping your upper arm and dragging you to the office.

When you arrived, the rooms were in disarray. Equipment smashed, blood and unconscious bodies trying to be aided too. It was a mess, and you were more nearly barging down the door to get to him, shouting for the guards to stand down and leave him to you. Yes, he was a highly trained assassin, but with the trust he held in you, there was no way he would intentionally harm you.

The underground room had no windows, which you were thankful for as they would have been destroyed in his rampage. You were only dressed in your joggers and a vest top, trainers already marked with red streaks from the puddles you’d walked through. It felt like your heart would escape your mouth with how erratic it was pounding in your chest as you tried to take in his appearance.

The shirt he had previously been wearing was now ripped to shreds on the floor. The tactical trousers had tears throughout but still seemed to be held together enough that he was indecent, and combat boots that gleamed with smudges where he’d been kicking objects and people. Each of his knuckles were busted in their own way. The flesh hand was cut, and the metal fist was red with other people's blood.

You’d not seen him become this erratic since he’d been out of his cryogenic state for too long, and his memories began to return to him as he questioned his entire existence. Whereas for this example, he’d only been defrosted for several days and shouldn’t have had any cognitive issues.

Stepping closer with your hands raised to show you meant no threat, you asked in a clear, concise voice, “Soldier? Where is the threat?”

His height seemed to tower over yours, more so than usual, as he turned his deathly glare towards you. The hulking muscles of his shoulders heaved with each breath he took as if he was out of breath, which was a rare occasion as he could run for miles and continue to breathe steadily, unaffected by the strenuous exercise. Your question was supposed to help identify what his issue was, hoping he’d find you being there to create a safe space for him, but the angry charge of his massive body had you flinching back in shock.

The warm hand of his wrapped around your throat, using the momentum of his steps to push you back up against the wall. Your hands remained up, even though you were itching to tear at his wrist to relieve some pressure. He wasn’t squeezing hard enough that you were struggling to breathe, but it was still uncomfortable and unnerving.

Your mind was working on overdrive, trying to think of a way to ease the stress he was going through. Your eyes searched over his body, starting with his head and face, but there were only minor scratches and grazes from the fights. Lower your eyes explore his arms and chest until they halted, seeing something that had never been through your consideration.

His tactical pants were tented, showing the outline of his hard-on, raging just as violently as the blue of his eyes. Was this the issue of his anger? The soldier shifted his stance, hand twitching towards his crotch like he was going to move himself to be more comfortable, but stopped as he watched you closely.

Alexander Pierce had once told you that whatever the Soldier wanted or needed, you were to give it to him to ensure that he was performing to his best abilities. You cursed to yourself quietly, unsure if this was even plausible or right to do. Of course, it wasn’t right to do. He was a prisoner in his own body, but you were his doctor, and you had a job to do.

“It’s okay. I know what will help you. I’ll show you how to get rid of the pain; I won’t touch you, I promise”.

From there, you were able to explain anatomy, the ache throbbing through his abdomen and how he could relieve himself. He did. Right there in front of you, his pants by his knees and cock in hand until he came on your shoes.

You didn’t so much as blink or flinch at the action. He didn’t understand that it wasn't appropriate to cum on someone's shoes or to masturbate in a somewhat public scenario. It calmed him down enough that you could push him back onto a chair and fix the injuries that were already mostly healed.

These situations only continued to escalate, which occurred more often than not. However, the Winter Soldier only touched himself when you were around, and you were unsure if it was because you made him feel safe or for other reasons that Rumlow liked to hiss in your ear, saying that the deadly assassin had a crush on his favourite doctor.

You blew it off as gossip and nasty rumours, unprofessional at most.

This only lasted for a few months before you noticed the changes in the Soldier, and it all came to a head one night as he turned up at your apartment after a mission. You hadn’t even told him your address, and he wasn’t due back from the mission for another 24 hours, but there he was, at the end of the bed, having snuck through the window as you were halfway through having some intimate time yourself.

Your fingers were between your legs, eyes closed, and your head tipped back, not covering your moans as you didn’t think you’d need to as you were living by yourself. The assassin watched, confusion causing his brows to furrow, head tilted to the side as his fists clenched. 

The look on your face was one he’d never seen before, and he noticed the anatomy was different to his. Of course, he was aware that not everyone had the same genitals as his, but it hadn’t crossed his mind that it could be touched like this.

The only time you were aware of his presence was when the bed dipped, your eyes snapping open and legs closing as you released an almighty scream that caused the Soldier to flinch.

“Mine”, he muttered under his breath, grabbing your ankle and dragging you closer.

“What? Soldier, what are you doing here? When did you- please stop” he paused his attempts to drag you closer as he was half crawling over your body. You were trying to remain calm, but he was acting so possessive, and why was he even here? How did he get in?

“Mine”, he repeated above you again, eyes trained between your legs.

You were at a loss for words, feeling both confused and safe simultaneously, even with someone as dangerous as this. The night was one that definitely crossed the line for professionalism.

The Winter Soldier was so interested in your masturbation and different genitals that he practically begged you to continue, shouting mine and gazing at your intimate area until you continued.

You came, and then the Soldier unbuckled his belt and ejaculated over your stomach, and this was the turning point of the relationship. Your job now seemed to be a half doctor, half a sexual release. Masturbation escalated into hands in underwear until there was no point holding back the restraint, and the two of you were fucking.

It was challenging to wrap your head around, especially when the two of you were in the work environment, but if it was what he wanted and needed that you were more than happy to be face pushed into the wall, trousers and underwear by your ankles and cock shoving so far into your cunt that you saw stars.

The most significant issue was that, even though none of the workers commented on it, they all knew the sex was occurring. Mainly because the Winter Soldier didn’t seem to understand that this was supposed to be something that was for ‘behind closed doors’ and out of view of the guards and other doctors. To him, if he was to push you over the table and whisper “mine”, then this was enough warning that he wanted to fuck, even if you were unfathomably embarrassed that your coworkers had to watch you coming undone to the man they were all looking after.

The worst time had to have been when Alexander Pierce came strolling into the ‘jail’ they kept the Soldier in during his downtime. Multiple guards were surrounding him, and three doctors in lab coats were working tirelessly around the room. You’d been in there for hours. Warm, tired and ready to eat whatever take-out you could encounter on the drive home later that night.

With Pierces’ presence, however, your posture straightened, and you tried to remain as professional as possible. This was a feat easier said than done as The Soldier eyed you from across the room, staring with his unblinking glare. Eventually, he pushed past Pierce, the guards all raising their guns expecting a fight, but there was none to have as the metal fingers of his specially made hand eased into the front of your work trousers, plain underwear and pushed into your cunt.

“What are you doing?! Now is not the time and place- Ah fuck!”. There was nothing other than a hand over your mouth that could have stopped the moan pitching from your lips as his thumb circled your clit. You’d not been at all aroused, but he had learned enough about your body to know the exact way to stimulate your bundle of nerves and curl his fingers inside of you to stroke that beautiful spot that had you whimpering without any restraint.

As he pleasured you in front of all your colleagues, there was nothing you could do but painfully grip on to his metal forearm. He didn’t even smile or mutter a single word as he made you orgasm with a knee-buckling euphoria. It seemed he was just in the mood to hear your whines as he turned around and sat back in front of Pierce, who was looking between the two of you.

“It seems things have changed through here. I’m glad you have been able to … satisfy the Asset by any means necessary”.

You tried not to visibly cringe with the way he had worded it as you tried to straighten your clothes and continue with the work you had been completing before. Nothing further was thankfully said as he was given his next mission, and you were left to continue working for a further three hours with underwear that was utterly soaked due to his wandering fingers.

[mobility2you]

Three-Wheel Walkers for Travel: Lightweight and Portable

If you have someone in your family who needs frequent assistance moving around at home or while traveling, then a three-wheel walker is all you need to serve the purpose. You can Shop Three wheel Walkers Online based on the features and functionalities you need.

Such tools help you with increased mobility, portability, and maneuverability, But why choose three-wheel walkers for mobility aid? Here are a few things to know about such walkers and why you should consider them.

It Offers the Right Kind of Support!

In comparison to the usual walkers without wheels, the three or 4 Wheeled Walkers will do justice in providing ease of mobility. Such walkers don’t need the patients to implement arm strength to move around with every step. If someone isn’t very stable with their feet, this is a perfect aid for them to consider.

Builds Confidence

Suppose you met with an unfortunate accident anytime recently, and your doctor has recommended you take mobility aids for a few months until you recover. In that case, you will lose out on your confidence because you won’t be able to do your daily chores and will become dependent on a lot of people.

But getting one of the best Wheeled Walkers with Seat will help you be less dependent on the people around you. Once you find yourself stable enough to get on your trembling feet, this mobility aid will help you win back your confidence.

Ample Features

Some of the great features that a three-wheel walker has to offer, alongside best-in-class mobility aid, are:

·         Light in weight for easy carrying around to various places.

·         Portable enough to store it conveniently when not in use.

·         The compact size allows it to be packed in the car’s trunk for easy traveling.

·         It comes with ergonomic handles to provide a better grip for patients

·         Easy braking systems

·         Height adjustable frames.

·         Basket storage for added convenience.

Conclusion

So, these are some of the factors that explain the importance of 3-wheel walkers as a mobility aid. If you were in constant search for a ‘Disabled Equipment Shop near me’ over Google, then it’s time to end that search. Mobility2You brings you a range of quality 3-wheel walkers at the best possible rates.

Following that, there are many other mobility equipment's such as walking aids, wheelchairs, toileting aids, and much more available to make things easy for the person in need.

[joshslater]

Booster Shot

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The male nurse picked up a file from the tray, scanned it quickly, and turned to me. "Martin? Here for the injection?" It was only me and two elderly ladies in the waiting room. "Yes," I said, getting up from reading a year-old home improvement magazine. "This way," the nurse said and started walking down the corridor from which he had emerged.

Many doors down we turned into a well-equipped procedure room and he motioned for me to sit on the bed with the back part raised, paper rolled out on it. "I prefer the seated position, if you don't mind."

"It's fine with me," I said, wondering if anyone did it lying down. I guess some people are really scared of needles or may pass out.

He spent some time preparing things on the bench along the wall and came back with a small tray. Then a quick swipe with a wet wipe, an expertly made injection, and a small band-aid to cover it up. "It will only take a few seconds," he said. "A few seconds for what?" I thought before everything went out of focus.

It took a bit to reorient myself. The sensation was a mix of orgasm and pain as the man kneaded my chest. "Good, you are waking up. The sedative took you harder than most." He was standing right behind me, one hand on each breast, and forcefully rubbing, squeezing, and kneading them.

"So for the next week you want to massage the area every second hour until the myalgia subsides. I'll give you sleeping pills for two nights and painkillers for four days. Now the injections are basically chemically induced eccentric muscle contractions, so just like with traditional muscle exercise there will be some inflammation over the next few days. You'll gain a cup size or two, but it will mostly recede. It is very important though that you keep up with chest exercises daily for the next three weeks so the muscle fibers heal correctly. After that you just need maintenance exercise just like any other muscle. I know you are still light-headed, but all of this is in the paper I'll send you home with. I want you to rest for half an hour before you leave and change shirt of course." He suddenly realizes I don't have anything with me except the clothes on my body. "You didn't bring an extra shirt?"

"No, I'm here for the flu shot."

[unmaskingdisability]

Cars are a form of mobility aid! Your solarpunk future has to include space for people who still need cars.

Who need to arrive to a parking spot right outside the building ,and not have an alternative of walking a mile if that One Spot is full. Who need safe places to decompress or change medical equipment, who are immunocompromised and risk major health complications from the wrong crowded bus. Who get so overstimulated/in pain/exhausted walking around town that they can't attend the actual event otherwise. Who need space for their medical equipment/backup mobility aids/service dog.

We absolutely need a world where Public transit and walkable cities are the default! And!! There has to be room for disabled people and our needs in your revolution!

[riality-check]

A continuation of this post. Part 3

ao3

As that long-haired guy walks away - his friend onstage called his name, but Steve didn’t catch it - Robin nudges Steve.

“Asshole roadies,” she says, sing-song.

“Get fucked,” Steve says with her.

It’s tradition, that little chant. Every gig, there’s always one venue where someone with far less experience says something. Steve knows he was blunt and probably shouldn’t have said anything with that tone, but after too many times, his patience is exhausted.

He can’t even blame the blunt thing on ASL. If anything, he’s meaner in English.

It makes sense. He knows English a lot better. He and Robin only started taking the ASL classes two years ago, when he really needed it. His left ear had been pretty much gone for a while (fuck you Billy Hargrove for putting ceramic in his scalp), but he sucked it up and started learning when his right ear started going, too.

Honestly, he has no idea what caused that.

Two years of ASL means he and Robin aren’t fluent yet. Not even close. But between that, his residual hearing, and the lip reading he’s relied on for longer, Steve does alright. If he wasn’t at a gig, he’d bring his hearing aids, but that’s a recipe for disaster and broken equipment.

Plus, he’s learned he can’t focus on his job when he hears as well as feels the music.

Robin taps his arm again. You good?

I’m good, he signs back.

They finish setting up before they grab a snack. The venue is pretty tiny, a standing room only place that serves pizza and a few drinks, and that’s it.

The pizza is really good though.

They finish up their slices before they go back to the booth. Robin is particular about not eating around the equipment, and Steve has long given up on fighting her.

Their jobs are pretty easy, in all honesty. The light cues are pre-written, and sound check was an hour ago. All Steve needs to do is hit the cues, and all Robin needs to do is adjust mic levels and turn them on and off as needed.

This leaves plenty of room for a healthy amount of fucking around.

As Robin, always on his right side, starts telling him a story about her friend’s ex’s (who is also her friend, because lesbians are just like that) latest date, Steve watches the crowd file in and nods along.

His mind, however, goes back to that guy. Someone always says something, and it’s always someone new to touring. Steve can just tell. All the rookies do the same thing; they look at the stage with wonder in their eyes. This guy was no different. Just some rookie giving Steve a problem, like always.

Except that this guy was different.

Rookies tended to want to prove themselves. They wanted to show off their fancy knowledge and make it clear that they belonged there along with everyone else who had a career. They wanted to catch Steve off guard, make him thank them for helping him out.

This guy didn’t do that. He was nosy and pushy and pretty and rambled a lot, but he wasn’t trying to be a dick. He was trying to look out for Steve, even if it was none of his business, even if he didn’t know him.

He ended up being a bit dickish, but he wasn’t trying to be. If Steve were a nicer person, he’d think that might count for something.

Steve is trying to be a nicer person, with emphasis on trying.

His watch vibrates, jolting him back to the moment. He lowers the lights, cueing the openers to go on.

The set list, along with Steve’s cues, is in in a binder between him and Robin, lit by a book light with a battery that’ll die at least twice, with their luck.

The first opener is a band Steve has never heard of called “Corroded Coffin.” If they’re any good, he might listen to their music.

Big emphasis on might because he’s not a big fan of metal. Punk has better bass lines, one that Steve likes to feel in his chest.

He hits the cue when they start their opening song, lighting them in reds and purples and-

Oh. Shit.

That guy wasn’t a roadie. He’s part of the opening band. He’s a guitarist.

A really good guitarist.

A really hot guitarist.

Steve is so caught up in stating that he nearly misses the next cue. He doesn’t, though. He’s a professional.

Robin elbows him, and he turns to see her signing. For one hopeful moment, he thinks she’s signing “hungry” and will offer to get them both more of that really good pizza like the wonderful friend she is.

But then she repeats the sign, again and again, and Steve smacks her before hitting the next cue.

“I am not horny!” he whispers, clearly loud enough for Robin to hear through her earplugs because she laughs.

You think he’s hot, she signs.

Steve rolls his eyes.

I’m right! she teases.

Steve faces away from her for the two seconds it takes for her to tug him back.

“Not fair,” she says, and Steve only gets it because it’s light enough to read her lips.

The band has gone through two songs, and the lead singer, a tall Black guy, is saying something to the crowd. Steve hears it just fine with all the mics, but understanding is too much of a struggle to bother.

He doesn’t really care anyway. He likes feeling the music and hearing it with what he has left (his audiologist said it won’t accelerate his hearing loss, so any hearing protection is a waste of money), not listening to whatever the bands have to talk about.

Anything important? he asks Robin.

She shakes her head.

Steve turns back to the stage in time to hit the next cue, casting the band in blue as the guitarist starts playing a really low intro.

Did you hear his name earlier? Steve asks.

Robin says something, but it gets lost in the music and the dim light.

“Hettie?” Steve asks aloud.

Robin shakes her head. Sorry.

She finger spells, messing up once and throwing it out with a wave of her hands.

“Eddie?”

She nods.

Steve hits the next cue and uses the rest of the time to appreciate the view. Eddie really is hot, in his dark jeans and tattered tank top, grin on his face and quick-moving fingers. And Steve has never had a chance to talk to the talent, even if they’re nosy.

But Eddie was nosy because he was worried. It would almost be sweet if it wasn’t so condescending.

He didn’t mean for it to be, the terrible little rational part of Steve’s brain pipes up. And he apologized. Multiple times.

The bigger part of his brain reminds him that it doesn’t matter what Eddie meant it as. Steve effectively tanked any hope when he snapped at him before the show.

Oh God.

He has to do a whole tour with this guy. Who he was a total dick to.

Yikes. At least he has Robin, who is-

Currently staring at him and signing “horny.”

Steve smacks her again, which she laughs at and returns instantly before they focus back on their jobs. They’re professionals, goddammit.

Professionals who are already on less than stellar terms with one of the openers.

He’s so not looking forward to the next few weeks.

Tag list (this is not a regular thing for me but it was manageable this time!): @just-a-tiny-void @weirdandabsurd42 @satan-is-obsessed @honeysucklesinger @coyotepup345 @gayafmermaid @thegingerrapunzel