#meals on wheels for the elderly

[teapartyprincess4two]

Talkative- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Yapper!reader x Boyfriend!Matt

classification: SFW & NSFW headcannons

inspiration: request

warnings: some 18+ content, use of y/n, established relationship

summary: head cannons of Matt with a talkative, yapper girlfriend!

Talkative- C. Sturniolo (Chris’s Version)

Talkative- N. Sturniolo (Nick’s Version)

—

☆ SFW

It’s no secret that you love to talk, you can ramble on about topic after topic and never run out of things to say. Matt loves listening to you, whether you’re retelling your day or just discussing a topic you find interesting.

☆ you always ask him rhetorical questions in between your stories, “Okay, but can you believe she said that?” But you never give him enough time to respond.

☆ he just nods his head and hums in response, confused with all the characters of the story.

☆ when you’re watching a movie you always start asking questions about the characters or commenting on the scene.

☆ “why did they do that?” or “wow that’s a cute dress, I really like that.”

☆ most times he responds just so you know he’s listening, but other times he’ll ignore you because he’s too immersed in the movie.

☆ “Y/n I don’t fucking know, this is my first time watching this movie too,” and “That is a cute dress, baby. You’d look nice in it.”

☆ you’re ALWAYS last to finish your meal, mostly because you keep talking in between bites.

☆ he listens intently, responding in between mouthfuls of food with small “uh huh’s” and “yup’s.”

☆ by the end of your stories you’re usually not hungry anymore, so he eats your leftovers while you start yet another story.

☆ when you guys go through drive throughs he knows to just sit as far back into the drivers seat as possible.

☆ you’re leaning over him, chatting with the worker and somehow managing to learn their whole life story before you can even order.

☆ or when you’re going somewhere new and he needs the GPS you’ll constantly talk over it

☆ after missing like five exits, he begins to find it annoying

☆ “Babe, shhhhh,” he’ll smother your mouth with his hand while he grips the wheel with the other.

☆ that never stops you though, you just mumble from behind his hand.

☆ you’re such a good story teller that he can imagine everything you say.

☆ your stories have him dying of laughter, and it’s even funnier that you don’t laugh, you just continue telling the stories like normal.

☆ by the end of your story his face and ribs hurt from laughing so much, “Holy fuck that was hilarious.”

☆ when you say outlandish things he stares at you in shock, “Y/n! You can’t say that!”

☆ you just stare at him blankly and continue voicing your opinions.

☆ he looks at anyone who tells you to shut up with the ugliest, meanest stank face.

☆ you talk to EVERYONE whether it be in the checkout line in the grocery store or in the waiting room at the doctors office.

☆ Matt just turns away for one second and then when he looks back at you, you’re talking to an elderly lady and walking in the complete opposite direction.

☆ “Aw Matt, she said her cat died.”

☆ “Y/n, the cashier asked for your card.”

☆ “Oh, right! So sorry about that-”

☆ “You know what? I’ll pay for it,” he cuts you off before your rambling can distract you again.

☆ on the odd days that you’re quiet, he’ll know somethings wrong.

☆ you’re just sitting on the couch, scrolling through Netflix on the TV or typing away mindlessly on your laptop.

☆ “What’s wrong with you?” he says abrasively, like if he’s upset that you’re quiet.

☆ you’ll just shake your head, choosing to remain silent.

☆ “Did somebody do something to you? Why are you so quiet?” he’s ready to fight whoever made you upset.

☆ “I’m just tired,” you mumble, followed with a quick shrug.

☆ He doesn’t pry, he just lays with you and waits until your mood picks up so he can listen to more stories.

☆ if he ever starts telling someone a story you’re quick to interrupt, “no that’s not what happened!”

☆ he playfully rolls his eyes and lets you take the spotlight.

☆ NSFW

Although Matt loves listening to you talk, sometimes it becomes too much. So, he has to get creative and think of ways to shut you up.

☆ the movie is getting good and you won’t stop talking, asking about the characters and the storyline.

☆ next thing you know you’re on your knees with Matt’s dick in your mouth.

☆ he’ll let you do all the work as he continues to watch the movie in silence.

☆ sometimes you’re a little too friendly with strangers.

☆ Matt’s not usually the jealous type, but he knows that guys get the wrong idea when you’re talking to them and that they mistake your friendliness for flirting.

☆ he’ll pull you away and take you to a secluded area, “we gotta go.”

☆ “Wait but I wasn’t finished talk-“

☆ “we gotta go, Y/n.”

☆ then he’s fucking you and making you talk to him through it, “C’mon, I thought you weren’t finished talking.”

☆ you’re forced to babble your way through it, each thrust fogging your brain more and more.

☆ other times he’ll let you use your words to praise him.

☆ like when he’s eating you out, he just wants to hear you say how good he’s doing.

☆ “Yes, baby, right there. You’re making me feel so good.”

☆ after, he’ll make you ride him and whisper sweet nothings into his ear.

☆ “You feel so good, baby. So big, I can’t take it.”

☆ your words are always enough to send him into a frenzy.

☆ he’s wrapping his arms around your waist and bucking into you until he cums.

☆ when you guys are done having sex, he’ll cuddle into your side and lay his head on your chest while you play with his hair.

☆ these are the moments when he talks and you just listen, only chiming in occasionally.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

YAP 🗣️YAP 🗣️YAP🗣️

thank you for this request I luv that I’m cementing my legacy as a certified yapper 😏

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

[sketching-fox]

Super excited to share that I have residency as an artist for Stands Shop on their Fanfaire site.

I've posted two unique pieces for this project (Good Omens and Castiel). I hope you love them!!!

Fanfaire Site

We will be donating a portion of every purchase to Meals on Wheels, an organization that helps the elderly have access to nutritious meals.

[aishangotome]

Ellis Twilight: Chapter 11

Chapter 10 Premium Story

--I didn't have any more nightmares until I woke up the next morning.

Kate: "Thank you."

I express my gratitude in sign language to the maid who helped me change clothes.

(I'm glad Ellis taught me.)

The servants at Crown Castle are all deaf.

Ellis had told me that they are thoroughly vetted to prevent them from being exposed to information that could endanger their lives.

Considering my own situation, which I accidentally stumbled upon, it made sense that they would limit their hiring pool.

Maid: "You're welcome. Please let us pamper you, especially when you're injured."

Maid: "Kate used to do everything herself, from dressing to cleaning..."

Maid: "From now on, please let me help you more."

The maid said this with a bright smile and hand gestures, then left the room with a smile, carrying a basket containing my nightgown and sheets.

(My leg... is it still swollen?)

Pain shoots through me when I move it, and I can't help but grimace.

Just then, there's a knock from the door that had just closed, and--

Ellis: Good morning, Kate.

It was Ellis who peeked his head in.

Kate: Ellis! Good morning. Yesterday--

I was about to say "I'm sorry" but then I remembered him telling me "no apologies."

Kate: ...Thank you for everything.

Ellis: You're welcome. Did my magic work?

*flashback*

Ellis: ...Want me to cast a spell for you to have good dreams?

*back to present*

My forehead, where Ellis's lips touched yesterday, feels slightly warm.

(It was a sensation that seemed to repaint the anxieties that had turned my heart gray with warm colors.)

I felt like there was more to it than that, but...

I pretended not to notice and gently tucked away the feelings that couldn't be put into words.

Kate: Yeah, it worked perfectly! Thanks to you, I slept soundly.

Ellis: That's good.

(Ellis seems more energetic than yesterday, too.)

I'm relieved that the anxious and somewhat precarious atmosphere I saw in him last night has faded.

Ellis: Well then, let's go.

Kate: Go? Where... and what's that?

I lower my gaze to see Ellis holding something unfamiliar in both hands.

Ellis: A secret weapon.

-

Sunlight streamed through the glass arches, casting vivid shadows on the ground. This was Leadenhall Market, the oldest market in London.

Ellis: I said I'd bring you your meal, but... since it's such nice weather, I thought it might be nice to eat outside.

Ellis: We promised to go out for something delicious, too. And... how's the ride?

Kate: It's really... how do I put it, this is...

Ellis's "secret weapon" smoothly glided through the market with me on board. It was a contraption I had never seen before, like a chair with wheels attached.

Kate: It's so effortless, it almost feels like cheating...

Ellis: ...Hehe. You're so serious, Kate.

His laughter, pushing the "secret weapon," reached me from behind, and I glanced back at him.

Kate: You'll understand once you ride it too, Ellis.

Even at my accusing gaze, Ellis just smiled.

Ellis: Well then, maybe I'll have you push me around once you've recovered.

Kate: ! You said it! It's a promise.

Ellis: Yeah, it's a promise.

Ellis, laughing cheerfully, pushed the "secret weapon," or rather, the "wheelchair," through the market. This vehicle wasn't very common yet, but I heard it was a tool being developed as a means of transportation for injured or elderly people.

Kate: How did you get your hands on such a rare thing so quickly?

Ellis: I made it.

Kate: You made it!?

(Something this complex, bigger than a chair and with wheels?)

I blinked, and Ellis tilted his head, giving me an ambiguous smile.

Ellis: A long time ago... I researched a lot, so I remembered how to do it.

The chair was comfortable, soft, and the wheels turned smoothly. It was so comfortable that I couldn't believe it was something you could buy.

Kate: Why did you research so much? Did someone get hurt?

Ellis: Hm? Ah... yeah.

He usually tells me a lot when I ask, but for some reason, Ellis hesitated a little and--.

Ellis: ............

He finally fell silent, and I looked up, worried. But from this angle, looking up at him from below, I couldn't see his expression clearly.

(What kind of face is Ellis making right now...?)

Ellis didn't seem to notice my gaze.

(Usually, he would notice right away and meet my eyes...)

He was staring blankly ahead, and he was definitely acting differently than usual.

(...Maybe it was a painful memory.)

The face I saw last night – anxious, as if he was in pain himself – suddenly flashed through my mind.

(I shouldn't have asked so casually.)

It's frustrating that I don't know how to make him smile, the one who makes me smile more than anyone else.

I stopped pursuing the matter further, returned my gaze forward, and felt the vibrations of the wheels against the ground when – I suddenly realized.

(Amazing...)

(To maneuver a wheelchair through such a crowded town without bumping into anything or making sudden turns...)

As if by magic, the wheelchair weaved through the market.

Kate: ...Even when you're lost in thought, you're so kind, Ellis.

Ellis: ………… Huh?

Kate: Not making it sway too much to avoid making me feel sick, not going over bumps too quickly to avoid hurting me...

Kate: I can tell just by riding it, from every movement of the chair.

Ellis: ............

I smiled at him, surprised with wide eyes, and faced forward again.

(Oh... this is really troubling.)

I should have known that the way Ellis looked at me that day at the picnic wasn't like that.

(It's hard not to fall for someone like him.)

I swallowed the feelings that were faintly aching deep in my chest, the feelings I knew would be crushed before they could blossom.

Right now, I just wanted Ellis to smile.

That's why--.

Kate: I still feel a little guilty for being pampered like this, but...

Kate: I'm happy to be taken care of like this.

I leaned back against the backrest, closed my eyes, and surrendered myself to the ride.

Kate: I'm having so much fun going out with you, Ellis.

(To respond to Ellis's kindness, wishing for my happiness...)

(I'm sure the best way is to convey 100% of the happiness I'm feeling.)

Perhaps my feelings reached him, because a smile returned to Ellis's face.

Ellis: ………… Yeah.

Ellis: I'm happy to be out with you too, Kate.

I felt his gaze on me from behind, and I looked up slightly to see his slightly long bangs swaying.

Ellis: Shall we go for a walk after we eat?

Kate: But Ellis, what about your work?

Kate: Speaking of which, is it okay for you to be away from Jude right now?

According to the schedule I noted in my notebook, he should still be working today.

Ellis: I'm taking a break from assisting the president for a while.

Kate: Does that mean... I'm causing you trouble?

Ellis: Not at all. I wanted to do this.

Ellis: Jude also told me to take responsibility and look after you.

Kate: Eh!? Jude said that...?

Ellis: Yeah. Jude was also there when you got hurt.

Ellis: Maybe lending me to you is Jude's way of taking responsibility.

Indeed, from the beginning, Jude had told Ellis, "You got her involved, so you deal with the consequences."

In the sense of "not being indebted," I had come to understand that Jude, despite being an arrogant sadist, was a man of his word.

So, it made sense that he would tell Ellis to look after me.

(The kidnapping case has been solved, and there's no work or missions for a while.)

(Resting with Ellis until my injury heals...)

(--Somehow, that sounds...)

Ellis: It's like a vacation just for the two of us.

Kate: ...!

I jumped in my chair when he whispered in my ear from behind.

Kate: Oh, you're saying that again.

Ellis: I thought we were thinking the same thing... Were we not?

Ellis laughed cheerfully and tilted his head.

Kate: ...You got it.

Ellis: Hehe, I knew it.

(If he doesn't like me and we're not lovers, then...)

(Ellis is... a perplexing person.)

Sunlight glittered down on us as we looked at each other.

Ellis: Maybe I'll just enjoy this as a regular vacation with you.

Ellis: After lunch, is there anywhere you'd like to go?

(Since we're here, I'd like to go somewhere I haven't been with Ellis yet, but...)

Kate: Hmm... Nothing comes to mind right away.

Ellis: Then, shall we go wherever the path takes us?

Streaks of light enveloped Ellis like a staircase ascending to heaven.

Kate: Wherever?

Ellis: Yes, that's right. Wherever, until all your dark feelings are blown away.

After a late brunch at a lovely restaurant, we walked aimlessly.

We window-shopped, passed by sparkling green parks,

a riverbank bustling with boats, a towering temple, and many other sights...

Engrossed in conversation, we somehow arrived at the outskirts of London before we knew it, but we didn't want to stop moving forward.

Ellis: We've reached the top.

Kate: Wow...!

It was a meadow filled with vibrant flowers as far as the eye could see.

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the sweet scent of flowers and the warmth of the setting sun.

Ellis: What do you think?

Kate: It feels amazing...!

Ellis: Yeah, I think so too.

Our eyes met briefly, and Ellis gave a mischievous smile--and spun the "secret weapon" around in a wide circle.

Kate: Whoa!

Kate: Ah, did you just... play a little prank on me?

Ellis: ...Did I get caught?

Ellis: You looked so cute having fun, I couldn't help but tease you a little.

(Ah...)

(...He makes that kind of face too, huh?)

It felt like an expression I'd never seen before, and my heart pounded uncontrollably.

(Is Ellis surprisingly mischievous?)

"Ellis's emotions and desires are a secret" –– I recalled the words Roger once told me.

I felt like the lid of that secret box had just slid open a little, and I caught a glimpse of what was inside.

(I want to see more. But... it's also a little scary.)

Because if I discover any more new sides to Ellis... If I fall for him any more than this, it'll be troublesome.

Ellis: I'm sorry, was that scary?

Kate: No! Because I know you're in control, Ellis.

Ellis: ......

Kate: Just like you said, all my dark feelings have been blown away.

Ellis: I see... That's good.

As we gazed at the scenery for a while, the sun, burning like a ball of fire, sank into the cityscape, which looked like a silhouette.

(What a beautiful twilight...)

I wanted to keep watching this scenery with him forever, but with each blink, the sky turned into the colors of night.

Kate: ...But, we should head back soon.

(The day went by so quickly.)

It felt like the peaceful, calm, and happy time was melting into the night.

(It's a little sad...)

Ellis: We don't have to go back.

Kate: Eh...?

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 12

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[3terna15unshin3]

Then Because She Goes

You are mine, I’ve been drowning in you

★ Chapter 1 of 15, 4283 words

★ Matty Healy x Original Female Character

★ warnings: none

— 17 April, 2018

The wheels on the metal cart Este struggled to push were in dire need of some grease. She winced at the loud squeaking noise it made, as her shoulders jumped up to soften the blow to her ears. It was decades old, the shop’s equipment, so Este was used to it. Bubbles emerged underneath the orange carpet as it bunched up and refused to let the heavy product across the store. 

Nietzsche, Seneca, and Aurelius were just a few of the dozens of surnames sitting before her already drooping eyes, waiting patiently to return to the philosophy section on the quiet Tuesday morning. A seven-in-the-morning start time was odd for Este, as she had grown accustomed to coming in past midday and closing up the shop in the evening. But, the night before, her boss rang her and begged her to come in bright and early; since he’d forgotten that his daughter's piano performance was a matinee. He promised to cover the evening for her instead.

Samuel, her boss, was the forty-something year old owner of Greenhouse Books who usually covered mornings. He only hired the once teenage Este in attempts to save the live plants scattered across his store, since he was horrible at caring for them himself, and customers started to complain. But almost eight years later, she loved nothing more than the musty smell of used literature, and lived a quiet, content life surrounded by it. 

The change of pace was bizarre. Sam almost always dealt with the non-fiction areas of the store. She felt oddly unfamiliar shelving what she had to that day, even with the years of experience under her belt. Her tan cheeks grew warm with embarrassment. Memoirs could be seen in her hands often but never philosophy, and the difficult to pronounce names didn't help her bare minimum knowledge on the genre. 

Nonetheless, she squeezed a final book by Camus into the tightly packed bay and turned to wheel the cart back across the now permanently rippled carpet. Yikes. She'd have to tell Sam to get it stretched again or maybe ask him to just quit putting so many books on each cart at once.

“Oh well,” she muttered and tucked a wavy strand of her black hair behind her ear. “It’ll add to the charm.” 

Interrupting the conversation Este was holding with nobody but herself, an elderly woman brushed through the front door.

“Good morning!” the woman exclaimed, smiling as she attempted to control her white hair that had been swept around by the Manchester wind.

“Morning! Watch your step, almost tripped on that ripple myself,” Este warned, perking up her voice to make a polite impression. 

Wrinkles appeared near the woman’s eyes as she laughed and thanked Este gratefully, before asking for the whereabouts of Louise Penny’s books. After outstretching her arm and pointing over to the mystery section, the still half-asleep 26-year-old stationed herself back behind the counter.

An inconsistent flow of customer interactions continued throughout the day before Este found herself closing the store for thirty minutes to eat her lunch and brew a quick coffee. She flipped the sign in the window to the side that read ‘closed’ and then pranced to the back room to start their Nespresso for an americano. Leftover Thai food from last night's takeaway was scarfed into her stomach as she decided to eat in her spot behind the counter, enjoying the sun streaming in instead of hiding in the back.

Watching people walk past Greenhouse on the pavement was her daily entertainment; but it quickly backfired as Este remembered that the people walking by could actually see her too. Some pairs of eyes lingered on her a bit too long—out of curiosity, Este assumed—and it made her feel a bit like a zoo animal. So, she thought it’d be best to finish her meal in the back room; but before she could get there, someone tugged on the door trying to enter. It was locked of course, but her pushover mentality jumped up to open it anyway. 

She hurriedly greeted the young man on the other side, mustering up an apology in her head. “I’m so sorry, I was just closed up for lunch! You’re welcome to come on in, I’m finishing up right away—”

He interrupted with a similar apologetic tone in his voice. “Oh—you’re on break! Please, no worries, I can come back another time. Enjoy your lunch!”

“Thank you, but I promise I don’t mind at all. Please come on in!” she argued, but he stepped backwards promptly and insisted on coming back later.

“I insist, you deserve your break. I’m sure this shop won’t disappear on me—no biggie. Seriously,” he finished, slipping his hand back into the pocket of his trench coat. 

Este looked at the tattoo poking out of his sleeve. It said ‘DAD’. She stopped herself from staring and shot him one last ‘thank you’ while a soft smile lit up his face.

She let out a breath after the nervous and slightly desperate exchange, watching the man walk away. I may as well have begged him to stay on my hands and knees... Este thought to herself and cringed. Her eyes lingered as he ran his fingers through his hair and jogged to cross the street to enter the Starbucks that sat opposite her. 

He could’ve read the sign, to be fair. 

— April 21, 2018

After that lonesome Tuesday shift, some relief accompanied Este through the week as her typical evening hours were welcomed back into her schedule. 

But, a pestering curiosity ate into Este's subconscious. She wondered if the 'DAD'-tattoo-having, lunch-break-interrupting guy ever came back in and whether he found what he was looking for. Maybe he had even more tattoos, and enjoyed reading Nietzsche, unlike her.

She always thought there was excitement within mystery. This fascination shined through with her habit of seeing intriguing strangers and creating little lives for them. Este did it all the time when meeting customers, since it was difficult (and far too existential) for her to conceptualise each person on Earth living a life just as thoroughly as her own. Were they not just entities who showed up to walk into her sight and then out of it again? How could they experience unique anxieties, have a favourite food, or dislike their mum's maiden name?

Este never had any luck accepting that reality, so she felt comfort through the creativity of just deciding what these strangers were like, using it as a way to pass time in the bookstore. She insisted that the Louise Penny woman from that early morning had countless amounts of cats, rarely leaving a stray on the street. She probably lived an eventful youth, travelling around the world, never having time for children, with the biggest sweet tooth known to humankind.

But he was different. Este struggled to pin any quirky and made-up attributes to the striking stranger. Nothing she stirred up in her mind felt like it fit. She began to think that maybe she was too curious to know the real answers to be able to come up with any make-believe ones. As rare as this struggle was for Este, the mere seconds-long interaction from earlier in the week slowly faltered from her memory.

✴

“It should arrive in, maybe, four to five business days. Can’t be sure with the post, though. Perfect. We’ll be in touch—my pleasure. Buh-bye.”

The blue Post-It note crumpled in her hand as Este finally made the last call on the order-in list Sam left for her. A sigh escaped her lips as she let herself relax into the bulk of her shift, only 45 minutes in so far.

She took a leisurely lap around the shop and dragged her fingertips over the greenery—some hanging, some sitting on any spare patch of carpet, others sprawled along the shelves—taking note of their growing crunchiness. Her eyes widened as she tried to recall the last time she’d watered them. It had been a while. Walking to the back, Este opened the leftmost cupboard in the kitchenette to grab their large glass pitcher.

Caring for the plants served as a great way to make the clock tick faster on a particularly slow day for Greenhouse. A customer would walk in no less than an hour after the previous one, and preferred to silently browse—Este's favourite type of shopper. But later, when she was due to close in a short half-hour, a pair of familiar eyes met hers through the front window.

Serving as a much more casual alternative to a trench coat, a bright yellow puffer jacket clad Matty this time around. He reached out a hand to try the door, similarly to his actions earlier in the week. Hesitating, he glanced over at the sign in the glass. It read ‘open’, thankfully, so he swung it wide and slid through. His curly hair slightly bounced back and forth as a memory of the awkward encounter came to the front of his mind, attempting to shake it out.

The last thing he wanted to do on his quick trip was to almost break and enter a locally praised small business. Good god, was that embarrassing, Matty thought.

After it happened, he waited in line at the Starbucks across the street and physically cringed—knowing that there was not a single chance he'd be stepping back into the shop on that same day. Enough damage to his ego had been done.

Every time he took a stroll through Manchester, to slow down the pace of his normally high-speed life, Greenhouse piqued his interest. Its charming energy inspired him to walk in a handful of times over the years; meeting the tall and bright blond owner with a small smile each time. So, he couldn't stop his feet from carrying him back down to the bookshop across from the Starbucks. 

Matty was certain that he had never seen that particular worker before he'd disturbed her lunch, despite shopping at Greenhouse in the past. He would’ve remembered the fullness of her cheeks and her wavy black hair. As his eyes graced her a second time, now in the glow of the few lamps illuminating the shop instead of the late morning natural brightness, he gave her an acknowledging (and apologetic) smile and nod.

Este recognized him instantly and waved her hand lightly. “Evening,” she said, her single dimple showing up as she sent a smile back.

“Evening,” he replied casually. “Do you guys have an essay section? I never know where to look.”

Racking her brain for any essay recommendations and finding none, she answered him. “Yeah! It's just in the left back corner over there,” she pointed. “Rather small though, we don't tend to receive many essays nowadays and I can't say I've read any myself.”

He glanced over to where she pointed and nodded his head in realisation, eyes travelling back to hers. Normally, Matty would head over silently and go about his night—but a sudden urge to hear her speak again took over, and his feet stayed in place. 

“Really? Not the essay type?”

“Not at all,” she shyly admitted, stepping out from behind the counter and deciding to go and show him the section herself. Este felt like he was striking a conversation with the intention of it lasting, so she chose to comply. Not that she needed much convincing. 

He had a certain amiability to him, and even with the limited interaction they'd had together, Este felt it radiate. His eyebrows rose in curiosity and she knew he was listening deeply to their light small talk, which they fell into with ease. More apologies for the momentous Tuesday lunch incident were spewed between them before they learned the other's favourite genres, and the reason Matty had never seen her in the shop before. He made a mental note to come in the evening again next time.

Este liked the few greys hiding in his curly hair and was jealous of his jacket, planning to ask him where it was from if he ever came back in again (since maybe it was too early for that kind of thing). The way he said 'em' instead of 'um' was silly.

Matty couldn't stop staring at her dimple and accidentally smiled back every time it appeared on the left side of her face. In the couple steps they took, he counted up the 4 times she reached to fidget with her necklace. He thought it was a dragonfly, but wasn't completely sure.

“Here they are.” Her eyes scanned the few dozen essay anthologies that sat on the shelves, rather dusty. “Honestly not sure if you'll find anything good here. Can't recall the last time I saw anyone even browsing the section,” she admitted bluntly with a smile, poking fun at his odd reading taste.

Este’s playfulness dragged the edges of his mouth upwards, with his slightly crooked teeth on display. 

“Thanks anyway,” he replied with a chuckle, but dragged his tone out—leaving space to let her finish his sentence, silently asking for her name.

She didn't quite get the memo, spouting a quick 'no worries' and flashing him another smile. Her eyes locked with his for a couple seconds as her body turned to lift a pile of books that were clearly out of place. Este had work to do, after all.

He wasn’t too concerned that he didn’t have a name to pair with her face, since he figured he’d remember her anyway. Keeping reserved on his time off, striking conversation wasn't something Matty often did—especially with strangers— but he felt strangely at home within the musty smelling book shop. Its warm lighting and orange carpet eased his eyes. It helped that he was entranced by its smiley staff, too.

Raising his finger to the shelf to help his eyes drag over the sideways book titles, he searched for something to read on the train back to London. He read them one by one. Something about evolution, something by Virginia Woolf. No, no. 

“Jesus is the Way: Essays on His Master Plan,” he read aloud to himself as he picked up and inspected the brown novel. “Definitely no.”

Wandering around the shelves after no luck with any essays, Matty turned on his phone to grab the time. He'd been inside Greenhouse for no more than 20 minutes, but had to get back to start packing for his early train ride the next morning. He picked at the skin surrounding his nail beds with his teeth, out of habit, as he decided whether he should say something to the girl behind the counter before leaving.

She had just finished moving the stack of books she had lifted earlier, the abundance of them taking a couple trips. The heavy lifting forced her to catch her breath after she was done, cheeks slightly flushed. Matty noticed the tinge of pink in them and observed the way it mixed with her tanned skin. A subtle anxiety crept behind his ears while he walked past the register, stopping right in front.

“You weren't lying, the essay selection here is actually pretty shite,” he joked to catch her attention.

Este laughed at herself and raised her hands in the air next to her shoulders. “I mean, I'm no liar.” Her eyebrows raised and she shrugged, hands still in the air, as if saying 'I told you so'. “Nothing else caught your eye?”

He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Nope. Guess I'll just never read a book ever again. Thanks…” More sarcasm dripped from his voice as he hoped she'd fill in the space he left for her name, for a second time.

“Este,” she completed. “And hey, next time you should just have a better taste in books and then maybe you won't have to scour the essay section for something to read.”

Matty's quick wit shot a response back immediately, the friendly banter continuing. “I don't recall you offering any recommendations for me,” he argued.

A chuckle escaped her lips as her dimple appeared again, a smile brightening her face. 

Since he couldn't help it, he smiled right back. “I'm Matty, by the way.”

She studied the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and pictured them becoming more noticeable when he laughs. He seemed like the type to laugh with his whole body; like he felt things deeply.

“Well Matty, I'd be happy to recommend something of my taste if you could find an essay anthology that won't make me want to rip my hair out of boredom,” Este posed. 

He pointed at her, beginning to turn his body towards the door, his feet shuffling over.

“If that's a promise, then I'll be back.” Flashing another smile, Matty exited and ended the conversation there.

The door shut behind him as he let out a shaky breath, inhaling deeply for the first time in the past couple minutes. I should've said goodbye before leaving. Was saying that ‘I’ll be back’ weird? Was it creepy? he overthought. It was quite out of the blue to care so much about a short interaction with a stranger, but he found himself considering both what he did say and could have said to Este on his journey back.

As Matty stepped into his messy Airbnb, he thought about his itinerary for the following day and noticed a rare wave of dread tickling the back of his neck. After getting back to London, he'd be knee deep in work; likely living in the studio, pushing through the thick of writing and recording his third album. Out of context, four months sounded like plenty of time to finish it, but his trip back to his old stomping grounds—originally taken to bask in some calm before the storm—left a lot of space for thinking. The pressure was overwhelming.

Too much time spent diving through his own thoughts was never good for Matty. Things that he agreed were settled suddenly needed tweaking, making the newly 29-year-old eager to get back to work. The pure magnitude of it all was what he found himself to dread, the high expectations weighing on his conscience.His art only continued to explore genres (or the lack thereof), and fleeted with ambition—the only way to keep him sane—and the new instalment of The 1975 embraced that more than ever. 

It's far too early to be worried about criticism, Matty decided internally, trying to fit a fifth pair of shoes into his suitcase.

He considered the surprisingly effortless exchange he shared with Este just an hour previous to his last-minute packing, and how it was the first he initiated while on his own in a long while. For a moment, he had no record to worry about, or deadlines to meet, and enjoyed the simple company of another person. Through the stress of his industrious life, Matty had a habit of forgetting that the naivety of moments like those in Greenhouse Books is sometimes all he needs for a surge of inspiration. The Greenhouse girl served as a good reminder. 

A suddenly buoyant outlook for A Brief Inquiry accompanied Matty and his now fully zipped black luggage on the floor of his lounge. His tired hands reached for his phone and opened up Instagram, signing into his burner account, the official one still dormant and set to reactivate closer to the album release. The only intention he had on the social media app that night was to slyly search 'este' into his explore page, but none were the Este. 

Must be a couple of other Este’s on the internet, I guess, Matty thought.

Before bed that night, he laid his head on his pillow, as a small spark of motivation soothed the pressure of the coming future.

— May 31, 2018

“The couch definitely can't go in that corner,” Este argued. “Everyone would break their necks trying to watch the T.V.” She sipped on her tea, elbows propped behind her on the kitchen island. “Seriously, Cate, tell me how you can be a graphic designer without having even a slight eye for interiors. It's appalling, honestly.”

A moment of silence sat between the two flatmates as they looked at each other, Cate’s jaw hanging open. “How about you tell me how you can be such a bitch and still live under the same roof as me?” she fired back playfully. “I'm gonna strangle you one day.” Her hands rose, forming an imaginary chokehold as the two laughed some more.

Cate joined Este in the kitchen to see the same view of their living room, tilting her head. Their brand new couch sat awkwardly in the centre of the space, both of them failing to realise how big it was before buying it online. Sweat once glistened at both of their foreheads as they rearranged all of the furniture that sat in front of the T.V., attempting to find some sort of solution, and ultimately playing a game of living room Tetris to try and fit the couch somewhere.

They were so focused that they did it all in silence, only exchanging short phrases like ‘to your left, a couple of centimetres,’ and ‘hold that corner while I fix the rug’. But, after two hours of effort, the girls sat back to assess the damage and have a tea break.

“You know,” started Este. “Maybe this big project you're up for will earn you some extra cash and we can afford to get a new coffee table, too. That's really the issue here, honestly. It's awkward and bulky. We need a cute and dainty ovular one, or something, maybe the couch will fit then,” she suggested.

The red-haired girl raised her eyebrows. “You’ve found the culprit, babe. That coffee table needs to go.” Cate confirmed. “Might be a while for that merch collection to pay out, though. We haven’t even started it yet. Think we can survive with this gargantuan thing until September?”

“I guess we’ll have to.”

After they chose to ignore the furniture situation for the night, Este started bringing ingredients out of the cupboards to make herself dinner. She plonked a loaf of bread and a carton of eggs plonked onto the counter, with Cate watching in amusement. 

“Eggs? At 7:30pm?” Cate asked judgmentally.

“Listen, breakfast for dinner is normal for me. You should know this by now.” Este shrugged and flicked on their gas stove to start satisfying her hunger. “You ate already—and without me, so this is actually none of your business,” she said. 

A dash of oil was drizzled into the pan and Este stepped back to wait for it to heat up.

“Still think it’s weird.”

Este rolled her eyes. “You can quit judging me and divert that energy to being on AUX, if you don't mind. Been in a drought lately, just listening to the same stuff over and over,” Este suggested, getting most of her music recommendations from roommate’s much more eclectic taste. She handed over their JBL speaker that was sitting on the island, prompting Cate to pair her phone and fill the silence.

“I could say the exact same! What’s with the month of May? I’ve come across literally nothing new, or even remotely good,” she complained. “But hey, I think it’s Annie Mac time on Radio 1 right now. Maybe I’ll stick that on and she’ll give us some hope.”

Este flipped over her egg with a spatula and then pointed it at Cate, approving her good idea. “I trust that woman with my life, Cate. You know I’d never say no to my girl Annie,” she gushed. 

Cate laughed and put on the radio, the two falling into conversation about nothing in particular as Annie Mac spouted on about her hottest record of May.

“The whole song seems to be about you looking back, and the observations of growing older, and what you’re learning—and the lessons learned.”

“That’s true.”

“So, we’ve just confirmed that you are obsessed with growing older.”

“I’m obsessed with—I mean—it’s not about me growing older, because I mean Annie, look at my face. I look alright.”

“Babe, you look like you’re about 22!”

“Right, you heard it here first. Matt Healy looks 22, that’s the headline I want to see!”

Cate walked back over to the couch and collapsed onto it, tired from the whole debacle. It made no sense in their living room, but damn, was it comfortable. She closed her eyes and basked in the fluffiness of the brand new cushion, eventually hearing a song start. Its piercing guitar riff cut into her brain and she found herself cringing at how exposed it was; but the fast beat of the song intrigued her. It felt so in-your-face, that laying down (fully relaxed with her eyes shut) felt like the complete wrong way to take it in.

She stood up suddenly and looked over at Este, who was deep in thought. Cate snapped her out of it, and said, “This song makes me feel like I have tachycardia.”

Her roommate looked up at her, now out of her trance, and laughed out loud at her best friend’s reference to the condition where your heart beats too fast. “You’re so right,” she agreed, sliding her fully cooked eggs onto the couple of slices of toast. Este couldn't help but nod her head with the rhythm.

“Tachycardia, like, in a good way, though.” Cate complimented.

It continued to the chorus and as it spewed optimistic lyrics, Este and Cate caught each other's eyes again. The line, “Won’t you give yourself a try?” repeated over and over, and in unison, they began dancing like maniacs.

2 >>

[belle--ofthebrawl]

Belle you keep teasing us with the hell on wheels au and I am here to beg most politely for some tiny crumbs. What is this treat you have cooking up for us in your big big brain????

Well...the explanation is very long but basically Augh Motorcycle Helmets Big Sexy.

So it's just Vibes at this point but grew into something more, especially after @miasmaghoul posted about mechanic Cirrus fucking Swiss. I adopted that immediately into what is now known as the Hell On Wheels Au, the barebones of which have been rattling around in my brain for about a year but exploded with thoughts quite recently.

The Ghouls are a Satanist Biker Gang that fully leans into the aesthetic, party at bars and get into fights but during the daytime? They rev their motorcycles and stand in court rooms as kids testify against their abusers. They work in partnership with local community support groups, have domestic violence flyers up in bathrooms, even have their own local version of an Angel Shot called a Devil Shot where one will pick you up from the bar if you've been roofied and takes you to the hospital while another hunts down the lowlife who did it and gives them a little talking to. Violence isn't usually involved since they have a reputation but they're fond of saying they never forget a face. Interpret that how you will.

This all evolved from a Vibes Based Daydream I had where Dew's bike broke down so he had to be Ifrit's backpack. And when they pull up at a red light, Ifrit's old chapter leader Alpha is there and he tells Dew "Killswitch him, it'll be payback for (something completely fucking made up)" EXCEPT when Dew hops off and turns the key to shut down the bike, the light turns green and Ifrit hollers something at Dew before popping a wheelie and racing away, leaving Dew to sweat nervously in the fish bowl distortion of his own reflection in the helmet glaring down at him.

"Get on." Alpha says gruffly and Dew seriously contemplates running before Alpha revs his bike again and growls "you run and you're fucking out." Because their whole thing is facing consequences, right?? So Dew's his passenger princess and Alpha takes him out of town on a backroad to a tall grassy knoll where Dew thinks he's going to be buried and parks his bike.

He meets the bookkeeper, a hulking retired boxer known in his glory days as Omega and they chat as Alpha looms threateningly in the background.

Notes: Swiss and Ifrit ride 1000cc sports bikes whereas I'm going for a more classical, solid build for Alpha. Or a chopper. Can't decide.

"This is all I have." I said to Miasma, but it proved to be a lie as my brain is forever a hamster running desperately on a wheel.

Swiss harasses the corrupt police force (defroque is the sheriff's son??) with Ifrit and Sunny, they do a lot of night rides with no plates and lead them in goose chases after triggering speed traps. Drop a gear and disappear, baby.

Aether does a lot of charity stuff and mostly works with local food banks to be a one man Meal on Wheels (ok...yup. get it out) for elderly and disabled folks. He dreams of owning a food truck with his buddy Mountain but right now he's happy to show up to court with a saddlebag of whatever he thinks that little tyke might appreciate or need.

Mountain is the son of a local cafe owner Terra, who was quite the hell raiser in her heyday but now is content to enjoy her retirement with her partners, Ivy (agoraphobic landscaper) and Pebble (weed dealer). He has a sidecar he brings Rain and Zephyr to work in. Rain's got a fruity little scarf.

Aeon as the new kid in town working two jobs to afford a bike of his own, Imperator as a lawyer/ex pinup model because learning is expensive. Copia is her assistant/son determined to make his mother proud but also can't help but wonder why exactly she chose to work in this distant town and what her relationship is to that decrepit old man sitting in the park, feeding the birds from his wheelchair and seems to know an odd amount of detail about a certain tricycle, hidden away in the depths of the shed. Copia doesn't like talking to him. Nihil knows too much and yet, can't remember anything at all.

Aurora is someone who prefers to pedal around town on her old mountain bike, vlogging her downright dangerous escapades that make seasoned motorcyclists sweat (motocross? BMX? She just likes her old bike. She does delivery for local restaurants and is a living legend in delivery times. Aeon's also into free running/parkour/skateboarding and they have a friendly...? competition over completion times.

Cirrus restores cars as a hobby and is a mechanic with Cumulus, who specializes in paint jobs on top handling the books and stock. Swiss loves it when she fucks him Amazon style on her prize restoration car (model make and year TBD) and he tells her about this little delivery biker who popped a forward wheelie on the other side of a red light, did something complicated that involved walking on her front wheel and stepping on the pedals before setting the bike frame easily back down and pedalling calmly past Swiss. Cirrus knows her of course, but Swiss hasn't earned that knowledge yet. Or his orgasm.

Sunny works in the shop too as an apprentice.

Cumulus likes to flirt with Mist, who owns the local dirt track. "As much as anyone can own a dirt field." Mist says. She's a water-skier, wheels aren't her preferred mode of speed.

The Emeritus family crossed over from Italy sometime in the last couple centuries. Ask anyone and they'll tell you where the real power in the city lies, with the unholy Trinity of the three offspring. But here, see, that's on the down low, see? One of them has to be Papa Emeritus, that enigmatic and rarely seen figure, who takes care of people who put their faith in him and that's more than the local priest ever does. Funny how that church building gets fancier and fancier every year while Mrs. Abernathy down the street can't even afford her medical bills. You know they're holding a fundraiser to build a heated hallway from the rectory to the church because Defroque slipped and fell on the ice last winter and now he's whining about needing a safe path to the building?

Be a real shame if something happened to all that money. Can you imagine Father Jim slipping every Sunday? Not that he's stable any other day of the week, mind you. I get the feeling, those prayers retreats of his....Mmm. but that's just gossip.

Ah well. You know, this is a quiet little town when all those bikers aren't revving their engines. But there's stories to be found in it, if you're willing to wait and be patient. Good things, and all that.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Love is Sitting on the Bathroom Floor

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes, Nancy Gillian, Mateo Chavez, Judd Ryder, Paul Strickland, Marjan Marwani

Summary: Firefighters and paramedics rarely turn down a free meal, something the 126 is about the regret as a violent case of food poisoning takes out *almost* the entire team. For the @badthingshappenbingo​ prompt: Food Poisoning.

CW: Heavy emeto warning on this one!

Read on AO3

The first gurgle in T.K.’s stomach is not a cause for concern. In fact, he barely notices it. They’re bringing a patient into the hospital, an elderly woman who took a spill, so his focus is on driving, not a stray growl from his abdomen.

“Patient is a seventy-five year old female, complaining of hip and lower back pain,” T.K. tells the ER team as they roll her inside on the gurney. 

“Vital signs?” the doctor asks.

T.K. waits for Nancy to answer since she’d been riding in the back with the patient, but she doesn’t say anything. When he looks over she’s just standing there, eyes slightly glazed. “Nance?” he prompts.

She shakes her head and seems to come back to herself. “Sorry, yeah,” she says and then rattles off the vitals for the team.

“You good?” T.K. asks a few minutes later as they grab some supplies to restock the rig. “You look kind of pale.”

Pale and slightly green with an odd glassiness in her eyes that definitely wasn’t there when they started this run. 

“Yeah,” she says, flashing him a strained looking smile. “Totally cool partner. All good to go.”

It’s quiet as they drive back to the station. The growl in T.K.’s stomach is intensifying, a pinching pain now accompanying it, and he unconsciously moves one hand off the wheel to press it against his abdomen, as if that will somehow alleviate his symptoms. He hopes they have Pepto Bismol or something stocked at the firehouse, because he’s growing more and more uncomfortable by the second.

“Pull over.”

Nancy’s hoarse request catches him off-guard, temporarily distracting him from the burbling in his intestines. “What?” he asks in confusion.

She makes a choked sound, clamping a hand over her mouth as her eyes go wide with panic and T.K. quickly steers them onto the shoulder without further questions.

Nancy opens her door and practically falls to the ground, the sound of retching filling the air. T.K. grimaces as the contents of her stomach empty out onto the pavement. It’s a very long minute before she climbs back into the rig, her hands shaking as she wipes at her mouth.

“Are you okay?” T.K. asks, slightly horrified. 

She shakes her head, eyes closed, breathing deeply through her nose. “Just get us back to the station.”

If she’d looked pale before, she looks like a ghost by the time they pull into their bay. He doesn’t even have the rig in park before she shoves the passenger door wide open and makes a run for the locker room.

His own feet hit the apparatus floor and his stomach gives an extremely unpleasant lurch. He pauses, swallowing hard. What the hell?

Rooting around in the back of the rig he finds a couple antacid pills, swallowing them down and hoping they work fast. They still have six hours of their shift left. Hopefully there’s some ginger ale or something in the fridge, he thinks as he wanders back into the station. Or maybe he’ll raid his dad’s secret stash of tea…

He’s nearly knocked off his feet when someone comes barging past him. “Mateo!” T.K. calls after him, throwing up his hands in annoyance. “Where’s the fire?”

He doesn’t get an answer, just yet another disappearance into the locker room. “What the hell?” he mutters to himself. “Guys, what’s up with Mate—“

He cuts himself off as he rounds the corner and finds what looks to be most of the 126 crew sprawled out across their common area. Every one of them looks like they’re dying. 

“What is going on here?” T.K. asks.

“Sick,” Judd grunts from where he’s leaned back in a recliner, one hand resting on his stomach, the other pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Everyone?” T.K. asks as he takes in the general malaise of the crew.

He gets small nods and grunts of agreement from around the room. “Everyone except Cap,” Marjan manages to tell him, her voice small and weak. She’s curled up on the floor next to the sofa, a trash can positioned by her head.

“Bout fifteen minutes after you left.” Paul is slumped over at the table, head pillowed on his arms. “First Mateo, then Marj, then all of us.”

How is that possible? They’d been fine before T.K. and Nancy had left on their call. T.K. racks his brain, trying to figure out how they’ve all fallen ill so quickly. “Lunch,” he finally says with dawning horror.

“Seems like,” Judd tells him with a shudder.

The department had catered for them today, a thank you for a massive fire they’d all worked for hours the week before. They’d had soup and sandwiches from a local deli. Everyone except…

“Where’s my dad?” he asks.

“Calling in the other shift,” Paul grunts out, not moving from his position on the table. He cracks one eyelid. “You’re not sick?”

“No,” T.K. says, although his stomach does choose that moment to give a massive lurch that has him wondering if he’ll be next in line for the toilet. “Nancy puked on our way back in though.”

“Do NOT say puked,” Marjan growls from her position on the floor, gagging dangerously after she does so.

Mateo slinks back into the room, eyes bloodshot and heavy as he curls up onto the couch. “I’m never eating again,” he moans into a throw pillow.

“Are we out of service then?” T.K. asks.

“Engine is. And if Nancy’s down, then ambo will have to be too,” Judd says.

He’s right. With Tommy out for the twins’ Girl Scouts event, they’re already a man down. He can’t run calls by himself. 

Nancy returns and collapses onto the couch, half on top of Mateo. “Move over,” she grunts.

“Hey, get your own couch,” he shoots back, but she glares daggers at him and he grudgingly makes room.

“All right,” Owen says as he strides into the room in a way that seems to flaunt his good health. “I’ve officially taken us out of service and A Shift is on their way in.” He catches a glimpse of Nancy and his face falls. “Oh no. Not you too.”

“Sorry Cap,” she croaks, curling up into the fetal position.

“I guess I will call dispatch back,” he says with a sigh before he look at T.K. “What about you? You’re still standing?”

“So far,” T.K. says.

His dad claps him on the shoulder. “It’s that good Strand constitution. Takes more than a little salmonella to take us down!”

“How come you’re not sick, Cap?” Mateo asks.

“Oh, I didn’t eat the department lunch,” Owen tells them as he walks to the fridge. “All that processed meat and packaged sugar? No thank you. Besides, I’m on a cleanse.” He grabs several bottles of water and places them next to each of his fallen team members. “Now the most important thing for food poisoning is to hydrate. We don’t want anyone going to the ER.”

His dad’s not wrong, but his insistence that everyone needs to drink something results in a round of vomiting so intense T.K. thinks he might do it too out of sympathy. The bubbling in his stomach is becoming more of a roiling snakes situation, but he ignores it. His dad can’t be the only working pair of hands right now.

“All right,” Owen says after everyone seems to be settling back down. “Time for you all to go home. This is a firehouse, not an emergency room.”

Grace arrives fifteen minutes later to take Judd home and Nancy’s roommate comes to pick up her and Mateo. Marjan pours herself into a friends’ car right after that, while Paul insists that he’s well enough to drive himself. T.K. wonders if he makes it all the way home without puking or if he has to stop every two minutes.

“Well kid, looks like it’s just you and me,” Owen tells him once the common room has emptied out.

“Mhm,” T.K. says, pressing his lips together firmly and swallowing hard as his stomach clenches threateningly. 

“Oh no,” Owen says sadly. “Not you too.”

“Sorry,” T.K. manages before he has to turn and make a run for it.

He spends an extremely unpleasant twenty minutes on the bathroom floor, thankful that his dad insists on such a rigid cleaning regimen, before he drags himself back to the bunk room and gingerly lays himself out on his bed. He should feel better after emptying his stomach, but somehow he feels worse. 

He’s shaky and sweaty and it’s like someone is repeatedly jabbing him with a knife in his gut. It’s not good and it’s probably going to get worse before it gets better.

“T.K.?” 

Owen’s voice filters timidly through the haze of pain that T.K. is in. “I’m going to leave this herbal tea here for you. It’s got lots of antioxidants.”

“Thanks,” T.K. groans.

“Do you need anything? Another pillow or a blanket? I can see if we have some plain chicken broth or something. Oh! You know, I think I have some raw ginger around somewhere, maybe I can—“

“I’m fine Dad,” he grinds out.

“Okay, well, I’ll just, leave you be then. Try and…get some rest.”

T.K. would roll his eyes if he didn’t think the motion would make him puke. His dad’s bedside manner has always left a lot to be desired. When he was a kid, if T.K. got sick on his dad’s weekend, he was sent straight back to Gwyn’s apartment. He’s only gotten worse now that T.K. is an adult. 

He’s not sure how much time passes before he has to run to the bathroom again, probably fifteen minutes or so. Then it’s back to his bunk, praying that maybe he’ll fall asleep so some of the pain will go away.

He’s just collapsed back into bed when his dad returns. “Son, I’ve brought you some crackers,” he says. “The internet says to stay away from spicy foods, and these are pretty bland, so I think they’re okay. Also some ice chips. You should try just one at a time.”

“Anything I eat will come right back up,” T.K. croaks, burying his face in his pillow.

Owen looks him over. “Maybe I should feed them to you…”

T.K.’s stomach clenches and he lets out an involuntary moan, struggling to keep whatever’s still in there in place. 

“Okay, never mind, clearly you know best, paramedic and all that. Holler if you need anything!” his dad says, backing out of the room.

A small part of T.K. wonders if he should try to get himself home, but even the thought of moving makes him nauseous. There’s no way he can drive. 

The bed shifts as someone sits down on the edge of the mattress and then gentle fingers card through his hair. “Dad, go away,” he croaks, eyes still closed. Everything hurts and he doesn’t want anymore weird tea or unhelpful advice from WebMD.

“It’s me.”

He cracks an eyelid to find worried chocolate brown eyes looking down at him. “Carlos?” he says weakly. “What are you doing here?”

“Your dad texted. Something about it looking bad for him if a paramedic dies inside his firehouse,” he says, a soft smile on his lips. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Getting to his feet is a struggle, even with Carlos’ strong, supportive arms. He’s dizzy and nauseated and he’s pretty sure he has a fever now too considering the chill that’s settled into his bones.

“Is everyone else this bad?” Carlos asks as they slowly walk to the car.

“Worse,” T.K. tells him and he can feel Carlos’ sympathetic grimace. “Wait, why do you have your dad’s truck instead of the Camaro?” he asks when they stop in front of a vehicle that is definitely not Carlos’.

“We traded for the day,” Carlos says casually, but T.K. knows a fib when he hears one. 

“Did you make your dad switch cars because you were afraid I would throw up in the Camaro?” T.K. asks, glaring at him with watery eyes as Carlos settles into the driver’s seat and hands him an emesis bag he clearly swiped from the station.

“Shh, you’re sick, don’t worry about the details,” Carlos says, a little too quickly, and it’s enough to confirm T.K.’s theory. His fiancé might be able to fool the bad guys he deals with every day, but he’s actually a pretty terrible liar. He decides that just to spite Carlos he won’t throw up for the entire ride home.

He makes it five minutes before his stomach clenches so painfully that he has to bend over and put his head between his knees to try and dull the pain. Carlos’ hand comes to rest on his back, a comforting, familiar weight. “You need me to pull over?” he asks, worry coloring his tone.

T.K. shakes his head. He just wants to get home. Also if he talks, he’s going to lose the battle with his stomach.

He makes it the entire ride and narrowly escapes barfing all over the hallway, taking himself straight to the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind him. There’s nothing left to come up, but that doesn’t stop him from retching over the toilet until every muscle in his body is screaming at him.

When he’s done he curls into a ball on the bathroom tile, wishing that memories of being in similar positions on significantly less clean floors and in far sketchier locations weren’t coming to mind.

The door creaks open. “Do you want me to help you to bed or to the couch?” Carlos asks, his sneakers the only thing visible from T.K.’s position.

T.K. shakes his head. He can’t move. He’ll just end up back here again.

“T.K. you can’t stay here on the floor.”

“It’s fine,” he manages. 

Carlos sighs and then his feet disappear. T.K. rests his cheek against the tile, its chill making him shudder. This is going to be a miserable twenty-four hours.

Carlos’ footsteps return and something drops to the floor near T.K.’s head. He cranes his neck a little bit to see a couple pillows and a blanket and the next thing he knows, Carlos is sitting next to him on the floor, back resting against the wall.

“What are you doing?” T.K. asks, his voice raspy from so much gagging.

Carlos puts the pillow in his lap and pats it invitingly. “If you’re going to be in here then I’ll be in here with you,” he says.

T.K. squints up at him. “Are you serious?”

Carlos raises his eyebrows. “Do you really think I’d be sitting on the bathroom floor if I wasn’t?”

“You don’t have to. You should go Scotch Guard the couch or reorganize the spice cabinet again,” T.K. tells him.

“Is…that what you think I do when I’m home by myself? Never mind, don’t answer that,” Carlos tells him. “I’m not leaving you here alone. Come on.”

He gently takes hold of T.K.’s arm and tugs until he finally moves, sliding himself across the floor and resting his head on the pillow in Carlos’ lap. He has to admit, it’s definitely more comfortable than lying on the floor by himself. 

Carlos’ hand touches his forehead as he brushes his fingers through T.K.’s hair, and it makes him frown. “You feel warm.”

“I think I have a fever,” T.K. says with a shiver. “I might be dying.”

“You’re not dying.”

“I feel like I am,” he says miserably.

“How is that you’re more of a baby about a little food poisoning than you are about being shot?” Carlos asks, a wry smile on his face.

“Why are you being mean to me on my death bed?” T.K. asks him with a squinty eyed glare.

“I’m sorry, is me sitting on our bathroom floor with you in your time of need not showing you enough love?”

“Your bedside manner sucks,” T.K. grumbles, but he cuddles more deeply into Carlos’ lap anyway.

“I’ll try to work on it.” Carlos’ fingers drift over T.K.’s ear and down his cheek. “Let’s give it a half hour and then see if you can keep anything down, okay?”

That sounds like a terrible and painful idea, but T.K. nods in agreement. If he doesn’t start getting some fluids back into his body soon, he’s going to be in trouble.

“Thanks for coming to get me today,” he says as Carlos pulls a blanket over him, tucking it gently into place.

“I’ll always come get you,” Carlos promises. “And hold your hand, and clean up your barf…”

T.K. chuckles then groans in pain. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry,” Carlos says with a soft chuckle of his own. “You guys should sue the department. They could have killed an entire shift.”

“No good deed goes unpunished,” T.K. says between gritted teeth as his stomach clenches again.

“Well at least we get to spend some quality time together,” Carlos says, his voice soft and soothing. 

Despite the pain in his gut and the acrid taste in his mouth T.K. feels himself being lulled toward sleep by Carlos’ gentle care. “Are you going to stay here with me forever?” he mumbles as his eyes grow heavy.

Carlos presses a kiss to his hair. “Absolutely.”

[adultswim2021]

Soul Quest Overdrive #2: “Meals on Wheels” | February 25, 2010 | S01E01

Soul Quest Overdrive continues to be bad, but this one’s not quite as bad as the original pilot. It does take a hit from the inclusion of noted retard Gavin McInnes as a soccer ball doing a Scottish accent. This one, at the very least, has a plot that sorta resembles a typical absurd Adult Swim style plot. 

The plot: the bible guys are doing Meals on Wheels, but they are just cheaply delivering dog food to senior citizens so they can steal from them. When they arrive at the house of one of the oldsies Bert tries to steal pills, only to discover they are flea meds and aren’t altering his consciousness effectively. The old man behaves more and more dog-like until it’s revealed that he actually is a small dog controlling a human robot body. He escaped dog planet, and a spaceship with dog soldiers on it come down to apprehend him. The soccer ball removes him and his fellow outreachers’ ribs after watching all the dog soldiers successfully lick their own nards. They show the blood!!!

I gave this one tepid praise for resembling the humor of–I’ll just say it!!!–Aqua Teen Hunger Force. I mostly mean this as far as the plot is concerned. The intimidating dog soldiers showing up and immediately tying themselves up by grooming their groins is fairly ATHF. Speaking of ATHF, they show the original Bible Fruit episode on the TV at one point. How fun.

That also sorta hints at the main issue this show has; so much of it, and I mean, SO MUCH OF IT, reminds me of other cartoons. The elderly man rapes Bert like Handbanana. Mortimer quotes “the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few” from Star Trek, which was a South Park joke over a decade before this. And the intelligent dog in a robot costume is ripped directly off from Rick and Morty. These craven psychos went into the near future to steal. How dare they.

I remember seeing this back when, and was puzzled by the inclusion of the soccer ball character, and had to look up Gavin McInnes, probably pissed off that there was seemingly an interloper in this cast of comedy people I sorta respect. I forget what the exact chronology is here, but I recalled seeing "Dos and Don’ts" videos (A Vice feature dedicated to mocking people wearing uncool fashion; a concept that does worse than nothing for me) hosted by Gavin featuring nearly all of these people. I remember Kristen Schaal saying she hated dudes with a lotta bad tattoos, and then going “oh, wait, sorry” because she was talking to one. I recall Jay “January 6th” Johnston being in one of the videos… (solemnly) a portent of things to come.

Fun fact: My Fox-News-obsessed father once told me he admired Gavin McInnes which really puzzled me because the only thing I knew him from was this and a handful of Vice videos that repulsed me. This is how I learned that McInnes went right-wing. I have to give the guy credit: I can’t think of a single other person who did such a 180° turn politically and remained exactly as hated by me as he was before.

What’s worse is his character sorta adds nothing to the show. Bert is basically the Master Shake of the show and McInnes is like, a second Master Shake but worse? He’s just a drunk guy who, at one point, screams “PUNK’S NOT DEAD!” and thrashes around. It sorta seems like they were literally trying to make an actual COOL character. It’s the sort of comedy that people who aren’t funny try to write. “What if there was a crazy guy who did crazy stuff who liked all the same bands as me”. 

Those following along will note that this is the second of two "pilots" they used for this show for this contest. When the show aired for real, it aired as the second of four episodes (not counting the Gavin-less pilot episode). Like the not-for-television pilot episode, it's half the length of a quarter-hour Adult Swim show. And yet, still too long.

[lonita]

Hobbies

Wikipedia used to have this monstrous list of hobbies - that they have sadly replaced with something deeply subpar. Luckily, I captured it before they got rid of it. This is a much edited version with a few of my own thrown in. So, if you're bored, need an adventure, or are looking for some personal improvement or something ...

acroyoga, airplane spotting, antiquing, art, baking, beachcombing, beekeeping, billiards, birdwatching / bird-listening, boiled books, book reclamation or repurposing, bookbinding, brewing, building board games, button gathering, calligraphy, camping, candle making, candy making, canning, carpentry, caving, ceramics, cheese making, cleaning for the disabled and elderly, cleaning up the local park, climbing, clothes making, collecting postcards, conlang, creating comics, crochet, cross-stitch, crossfit, cycling, drawing, embroidery, ephemera gathering, etching, exploring, felting, fencing, film-making, flower pressing, fly tying, fossil hunting, found object art, fragrance-making, frisbee, furniture restoration, gardening, geocaching, glass-blowing, graffiti or street art spotting, guerrilla cultivating, hand lettering, hiking, information/word games, Jewellery making, journalling, junk journals, kayaking, kintsugi, knot tying, LARPing, learning a new language, leather-working, Lego, macrame, making bird feeders and bat boxes, making infused teas, making models, map-making, martial arts, math, Meals on Wheels delivery, memorabilia gathering, metalwork or blacksmithing, mineral gathering, miniature painting, model-making, mosaics, mudlarking, nature journalling, needlepoint, ocean glass gathering, orienteering, origami, painting, paper-crafting, paper marbling, photography, pickleball, playing instruments, pottery, printmaking, puzzles, quilling, quilting, racquet ball, rafting, rail fanning, ren fairs, research, road trips, robotics, rock-hounding, rock climbing, rock painting, rock tumbling, rug hooking, running, scrapbooking, scrounging, scuba, sculling or paddling, sculpting, sewing, short wave radio, signal games, singing, skating, snorkelling, soap making, songwriting, spelunking, spinning, stargazing, stone carving, string arts, sudoku, swimming, tennis, thrifting, toy making, upcycling, urban exploration, verse, volunteering at the food bank, walking in the woods, weaving, welding, woodworking, world building, writing, yarn bombing, yoga

[neverwear]

25% off sale on everything over at Neverwear!

plus NEW 23-piece postcard-sticker set now up.

Good all weekend until Monday night (May 29, 2023)

NO CODE NEEDED.

Donating to Meals on Wheels to help feed our elderly population. Thank you, friends, we appreciate you!

www.neverwear.net

[keystonecare]

Healthy meals on wheels for seniors in Benton county Iowa, Tama county Iowa. Meals on wheels volunteer, meals on wheels for the elderly at $6.00 per meal. Enjoy home delivered meals service for seniors over the lunch hour.

[steppingupforseniorsinarizona]

The Power of Charities: Supporting our Elderly Community

In a world that often seems to revolve around youth, it's crucial not to forget about our elderly population. Charities dedicated to supporting elders play a vital role in ensuring that our seniors can live their later years with dignity, comfort, and a sense of belonging.

As we age, many of us face unique challenges, such as declining health, limited mobility, and, at times, social isolation. This is where charities step in, working tirelessly to bridge the gap between the elderly and the resources they need. One of the most commendable aspects of these organizations is their commitment to enhancing the overall quality of life for our seniors.

Charities for elders offer a wide range of services, from providing essential medical care to companionship programs that help combat loneliness. They organize events, workshops, and outings that not only keep our seniors engaged but also nurture a sense of belonging within the community.

These charities also work to ensure access to necessities, like food and shelter. Many elderly individuals struggle with financial constraints, and charities help alleviate this burden through Meals on Wheels programs, housing initiatives, and financial aid for prescription medications.

One of the beautiful aspects of charities for elders is the heartwarming stories they create every day. These organizations bring together passionate volunteers and caring individuals who understand that our seniors hold a wealth of wisdom and experiences. They give back to those who have given us so much over the years.

As a society, it's crucial that we recognize the importance of these charities and the remarkable work they do. Whether through donations, volunteering, or even a simple visit to a local retirement home, each one of us can make a difference in the lives of our elders. Let's remember that aging is a natural part of life, and by supporting charities dedicated to our seniors, we show our commitment to ensuring that their golden years truly shine.

Welcome to Stepping Up for Seniors, a dedicated organization committed to making a positive impact in the lives of low-income seniors who require assistance yet lack the essential family support and financial resources to access the help they need. Our mission is simple but profound - to provide a helping hand and bring hope to those in their golden years who might otherwise be left without the vital support they deserve.

Our organization is not just a helping hand; we are a lifeline for low-income seniors seeking support and care. With a team of dedicated professionals and a network of compassionate volunteers, we work tirelessly to make a meaningful difference in the lives of seniors who have walked a long and challenging journey.

Join us in our mission to lift the spirits of low-income seniors and provide them with the care and resources they deserve. Together, we can make a profound impact, ensuring that every senior in our community can enjoy their golden years with grace, respect, and joy.

Explore our website to learn more about our programs and discover how you can get involved in Stepping Up for Seniors. Let's step up together for those who have paved the way for us and deserve to be cherished in their retirement years.

Stepping Up For Seniors

assisting seniors in Phoenix

assistance for elders Phoenix

[fuckyeahilike]

The emperor's new clothes

Robert Lustig became internet famous some 14 years ago, when his lecture Sugar the Bitter Truth went viral - at least, among those looking for a dietary solution for their health issues, the "wellness" community.

His whole idea is that the reason why people don't lose weight when they follow the standard medical advice of eating less and exercising more is because theirs is not a moral problem of just being too gluttonous and slothful; rather it's not the amount of food they eat they should be monitoring but the quality of the food. I.e., the Standard American Diet (SAD) of highly processed, refined, denatured food prepared for you in a factory, depleted of nutrients and fiber and chock full of sugar - that's where the problem lies. However little you eat of this poor quality food your body won't be able to process the energy you get from it in a normal way and you end up listless and fat no matter what you do.

The solution is to get back in the kitchen and back to the days when we prepared meals from scratch from natural ingredients, eaten raw or simply cooked - a diet that is by definition the polar opposite of the SAD, one full of fiber and quite low on sugar. Then the fat should just melt away effortlessly and you should find you're exercising again unprompted because now you finally have the available energy to do so.

All this sounds completely reasonable, to be honest. There are only two problems:

1 - No one has ever disputed this. He's not inventing the wheel here.

Please, do go right ahead and show me the nutritionist / dietician / general physician who has ever said, ever, that the way to go on a slimming diet is to eat chocolates and cakes and ice-cream and candy, as long as you're keeping it low calorie because all that matters is calories in calories out. Who has ever prescribed this diet to any fat person?

On the contrary, doctors always tell you to not go on dangerous fad diets and instead to make plans for the long run. Find the one perfect diet and stick to it. So, no chocolates for breakfast then, I guess! Instead, they recommend eating grilled foods with little to no fat with a side dish of salad, water, and no deserts. No fast food, no crap food, no take-aways, eating at home preferred so you can control your portions and the content of your meals.

Am I making anything up? Am I lying? This is what the real standard medical advise is and has been for many decades now.

So, it's not true that doctors don't know that some foods are just inherently more obesogenic than others, and any doctor would whole-heartedly agree with Robert Lustig's recommendation of piling on the vegetables (full of fiber) and leaving out the deserts and sodas (full of sugar).

Which means that right from the get go Dr. Lustig's whole shtick of painting himself as some sort of rebel who is going against the establishment is just a conjuring trick for suckers who have never been gaslighted before. He's a great actor.

2 - However, there are some things that even the greatest of thespians can not accomplish, like hide a belly full of fat when he is supposed to be playing a thin character on stage. Not that he ever was an athletic-looking guy, but 14 years have passed since that first famous lecture that he has by now repeated actual hundreds of times with little to no change in content, and he is now quite literally obese.

I do not demand from an elderly man with a sedentarian, intellectual job that he emulates Jack Lalane, a physical fitness expert who at the age of 80+ could still do push ups on the tips of his fingers. Possibly only Jack Lalane could ever be like Jack Lalane.

But I do expect a physician specialized in obesity to at least be able to keep a normal weight, or to have the honesty to admit that he simply doesn't know how. Physician heal thyself. Case closed. I don't ever want to hear about this fraud ever again.

It's just so astonishing how he keeps cradling that belly as if by doing so he could hide it. Is he a child? Is he going to start using actual smoke and mirrors to hide in next time he's on stage?

I can't even begin to imagine just how shameless and intellectually dishonest a man has to be to walk up on stage in public to lecture other people on how to lose weight while being himself the fattest guy in the room. I guess it's the same cognitive dissonance that makes people still invite him in the first place.

On the same day I found this video of Dr. Lustig's beer belly, I listened to yet another success story of a guy who healed all his diseases and lost all his extra weight by following a carnivore diet. The best part of the interview is when he recalls the moment he explained to his doctor how he had all by himself accomplished this miracle when his doctor never did anything for him (the miracle being that he was a suicidal invalid stuck in a sofa and became a guy who is finally healthy and functional for the first time in his life, both physically and mentally). All thanks to a rather strict carnivore diet of just meat and animal fat (No salads! No fiber! How does he do it? Go figure!)

At which point his doctor - who had never expressed any concern throughout the years when his patient ate nothing but the Standard American Diet that made him and everyone sick - chose to express grave concern over this new fangled all meat diet... that he could see with his own eyes had saved his patient from a living hell. That's when the guy laughed in his face and gave up on ever seeking this doctor's help again.

Sometimes you just have to be truly anti-establishment, the real way that involves observing reality and acknowledging it, not the fake Robert Lustig kind of way of being a total fucking fraud.

[inflamearc]

initially when i started writing laura, my main course of action was Get Her Out Of Twin Pea/ks --- because at the time neither i nor dana NOR syd could really see a way for her to be home AND safe AND [reasonably] happy. i knew she'd be homesick forever but i just did not trust anyone with her at that time. she was faking her death and dana's audrey and syd's coop were gonna be the only people who knew. i still like a lot of the writing we did then, and i still value the dynamics fostered during that period, but the longer i write her, the more i know laura doesn't truly work anywhere else: not because it's all she's ever known, or because her mom is there, but just because for better and for worse, the town is so much a part of her And She Loves It So Much.

sure, she fantasizes about leaving in her diary sometimes --- one, that's just how growing up in a small town is, and two, she's got a lot of immediate danger to run away from --- and i do want her to get out, travel, Experience Life, See Things, but i know she'd always want to come home. she likes being a big fish in a small pond. she likes that everybody knows her and that she knows everybody. she likes the routine in always knowing where she's going to eat and shop and party. she likes that she knows where everybody's at, even the elderly mostly-strangers on her meals on wheels route.

she doesn't like being out of control of what people know about her --- that's always been an issue (obviously) --- but the thing about laura that you should understand, that i should have understood much earlier, is that she won't back down from a fight, ever (i do not mean physically, okay; physically she's going to talk shit and get hit, but METAPHORICALLY,).

(we're going to cut this because 1. it's already long and 2. i'm about to get to the part that you may or may not want to opt out of, i.e. the aftermath of fire wal/k with m/e --- nothing graphic, ever, but frankness is my only real way, so.)

like, yeah, it's going to be fucking awful. the news will be tactful --- as it probably was in canon, officially, with her dead --- but everybody's still going to know. and beyond the news, there's the rumor mill, and while it's not like anyone has All The Answers, what they're dealing with is "local man commits suicide in police custody following the rape and attempted murder of his daughter", so it's safe to assume there are going to be a lot of solid guesses. and she's still going to be processing the events themselves and having just admitted to herself that her dad ever was her [primary] abuser to begin with. and then dana and i are letting audrey out ben as the other and he's going to die, too :-) which is great news, but is also yet another Thing To Whisper About :-)

but laura is a proud, proud little person. she is also a very spiteful little person. she'd appreciate it if you'd just [daxna vc] be normal, or at least upfront, but she's not her mother: she pays attention, and if you make her feel weird about continuing to Exist In Society, she's going to call you out. if she feels like you've got something to say to her but you're Being Polite, she might say it for you. it would not be accurate to say she doesn't care: she cares a lot! she hates the thought of not being accepted! it's something she's always struggled with! she will probably cry about it! but not until she's alone and has embarrassed you so incredibly badly that you will, hopefully, consider becoming a hermit yourself. this is her non-city. her home. she's not going to be humbled and she's not going to transform into someone new because of what's supposedly been taken from her. she is incapable of making herself small.

she's a lot to deal with. she's always been a lot to deal with. knowing What She's Been Through (or thinking that you do) might give you some context to better understand her, if you know her, but it's not going to change much, unless you end up in one of the prior camps. without the constant threat of danger, she's bound to be less volatile, and if you react to The News in a way that's encouraging and not patronizing, she is bound to handle you with more tenderness, but otherwise she's largely just ... laura. she is miserable, she's ecstatic, she's full of love and righteous anger, she's stubborn, she's brash, she's sullen, she's kind, she's unfortunately never recovered from being the weird horse girl in your fourth grade class and it has never once even occurred to her that she would be made fun of like this.

she is so annoying. and she is also the best girl in the world. and also, i wish i didn't feel i have to say most of these things? it's not because i assume You, The Mutual don't intuit them: if i felt that way about you, you wouldn't be here. but i also know, incredibly well, that if i don't state my intentions very clearly regarding arcs, they might get muddled and they might be misunderstood. i do not like angst for angst's sake. i am not here to make myself sad. i am here to do justice to laura, which means dealing with a lot of misery, but my end goal will always be to let her live her life without shame and with, well, i guess a manageable amount of fear. i would like for her to be defined by and remembered for the person she actually is, or was, or whatever the fuck.

[junipercastor]

i understand the criticism and lobby for workers rights of people employed by delivery companies like doordash or uber eats or instacart, but what could people who are disabled or live in a food desert without ready access to transportation do in the meantime?

before i moved back to my home city i was staying in a different one for school and that city was awful. the bus system was awful too, although im thankful we had one at all. id see a lot of elderly people wheeling their personal carts full of grocery on my way home. the ride from my school took about an hour each way and i transferred three buses twice too. that's how far apart things were! in a city, even. i think the walmart they all went to was closer but that still really sucks :/ there were a lot of older people in my area because there was a retirement home a block from me as well as a seniors building downtown.. i know personally if i took the bus to the store, the trip took up the better half of my day. i was fortunate enough to have my aunt take me shopping for grocery when i came back home to visit. sometimes i walked pretty far to get to where i needed to go or asked one of my housemates to drive me but he worked pretty late so he couldn't always be around to carpool us. a couple times i relied on instacart, and im guessing that's what a lot of people do over there. i know my other housemates did lol, and they had cars... what im getting at is that i was lucky

im going to stop using delivery services if workers aren't compensated fairly by their companies, but im uncertain if i can take a stance against them tbh given that idk what else could be used for people who need it :/ smth like meals on wheels? i dunno

[hhtthoughts]

A guide about eldercare resources in Michigan

Eldercare in Michigan

State-Level Organizations

Michigan Department of Health and Human Services (MDHHS)

Serves as the primary state agency for elderly services

Operates the Michigan Aging and Adult Services Agency (AASA)

Provides access to home and community-based services

Contact: 517-373-3740 or visit michigan.gov/mdhhs

Area Agencies on Aging (AAA)

Michigan has 16 regional Area Agencies on Aging that serve as local hubs for:

Information and assistance

Care management

Meals on Wheels

Transportation services

Home care services

Caregiver support programs

To find your local AAA:

Call the Michigan AAA Association: 517-886-1029

Visit mi-seniors.net

Enter your county or zip code for local office information

MI Choice Waiver Program

This Medicaid waiver program helps seniors who qualify for nursing home care to receive services at home instead:

Personal care assistance

Home modifications

Medical equipment

Adult day care

Respite care Contact your local AAA or MDHHS office to apply.

Medicare/Medicaid Assistance

Michigan Medicare/Medicaid Assistance Program (MMAP)

Free counseling about health benefits

Help with understanding coverage options

Assistance with claims and billing issues

Call 1-800-803-7174 for free consultation

Senior Housing Options

Michigan State Housing Development Authority (MSHDA)

Affordable housing programs

Senior housing communities

Housing choice vouchers

Visit michigan.gov/mshda

Long-term Care Options

Nursing homes: medicare.gov/nursinghomecompare

Assisted living facilities: michigan.gov/lara

Adult foster care homes

Independent living communities

Community Support Services

Senior Centers

Social activities

Exercise programs

Educational workshops

Congregate meals

Find local centers through your AAA

MI Senior Project FRESH

Provides eligible seniors with farmers' market coupons

Available through local AAAs

Seasonal program (June-October)

Financial Assistance Programs

Property Tax Credits

Michigan Homestead Property Tax Credit

Home Heating Credit

Contact Michigan Department of Treasury

Benefits Checkup

Visit benefitscheckup.org

Screen for eligibility for various assistance programs

Michigan-specific benefit information

Transportation Services

Local Options

Dial-a-Ride services

Senior transportation programs

Public transit reduced fares

Contact your local AAA for available services

Medical Transportation

Non-emergency medical transportation through Medicaid

Volunteer driver programs

County-specific services

Legal Resources

Elder Law of Michigan

Free legal hotline: 1-800-347-5297

Legal advice and referrals

Benefits counseling

Elder abuse prevention

Michigan Legal Help

Online legal resources

Self-help tools

Court form completion assistance

michiganlegalhelp.org

Additional Resources

AARP Michigan

Advocacy

Educational programs

Discount programs

Community services

states.aarp.org/michigan

Michigan 211

Dial 211 for information about local resources

24/7 service

Multiple language support

mi211.org

Emergency Services

Adult Protective Services

Report elder abuse or neglect

24-hour hotline: 1-855-444-3911

Online reporting available

Long-term Care Ombudsman

Advocacy for residents in long-term care facilities

Complaint investigation

1-866-485-9393

Remember to:

Start with your local Area Agency on Aging

Ask about all available programs, as eligibility requirements vary

Keep documentation of all interactions and applications

Consider consulting with an elder law attorney for complex situations

Plan ahead when possible, as some services have waiting lists

Regularly review and update care plans as needs change

This information provides a starting point for exploring eldercare resources in Michigan. For the most current information and specific eligibility requirements, contact the relevant organizations directly.