Somewhere Between Things

[betweenthings2]

Femme lesbians wedding fic??

[scealaiscoite]

☀︎˚࿔ summerish prompts

¹⁾ tangled hair billowing in the draft from an open passenger seat window

²⁾ strawberry smoke blown through sun-chapped lips 

³⁾ painted bench seats sticking to sore thighs 

⁴⁾ hot train carriages on sunny days 

⁵⁾ windows thrown open in dead heat 

⁶⁾ condensation trickling down the side of a beer bottle

⁷⁾ cheap supermarket sausages spitting on a barbecue 

⁸⁾ salted margarita rims

⁹⁾ gravel sticking to boot soles

¹⁰⁾ the pink dart of a tongue wetting chapped lips 

¹¹⁾ seashells rattling in a back pocket 

¹²⁾ blue jeans hemmed with green thread 

¹³⁾ a lighter flame shielded in cupped hands  

¹⁴⁾ lines etched into palms from paper bag handles 

¹⁵⁾ a bottle top twisting off between teeth

¹⁶⁾ sunscreen smears on the soft of a cheek 

¹⁷⁾ marlboros tucked into a bikini string 

¹⁸⁾ fishing lures shimmering in shallow water 

¹⁹⁾ crumpled train tickets 

²⁰⁾ rhubarb stalks dipped in sugar 

²¹⁾ the coolness of a bar doorway 

²²⁾ florence road pumping out of a parked car radio 

²³⁾ lipstick marks on a modelo can 

²⁴⁾ sand sifted into the folds of a bedsheet 

²⁵⁾ sunglasses broken at the nose and fixed together with tape 

²⁶⁾ horchata in cool plastic cups 

²⁷⁾ the softness of an inner arm against a heated forehead 

²⁸⁾ a carabiner heavy with keys dangling against denim 

²⁹⁾ beat-up shoes lined up along a weather back porch 

³⁰⁾ slivers of mango skins piled high on a plate 

[mattyhealyisagirl]

matty healy is a girl

[betweenthings2]

“Did they let you keep the grippy socks?" And “hey - come stay with me for a bit” prompts please :)

Thank you for the ask!! The most recent prompt list is here if anyone wants to see it =)

Matty feels like a newborn foal, all poor balance and too-long limbs and a kind of unrelenting drive to stand and move and go, to make his way toward warmth and comfort and love, but his limbs are all a little too much and a little confusing and he can’t quite figure out what he needs to do to take a steady couple steps. He’s off balance and confused and a little bit scared, pushed out into the world after so long on the inside of something. He’s getting released from the psychiatric hospital today and as much as he’s wanted that, almost since he got there, the world suddenly seems like a little bit too much, like it’s too big for him to navigate, especially on his own. So he feels unbalanced and like he needs to move but can’t quite figure out where his feet are supposed to go and he stays sitting where the nurse left him to fill out discharge paperwork. The paperwork is done, neatly and honestly, he might add, free of his sometimes near-illegible handwriting and the omissions and minimizations he sometimes makes about his mental health. 

George is supposed to be here to take Matty home. He got here in an ambulance and George said he’d be here so Matty doesn’t have to take a cab or an Uber home (and also probably so that he doesn’t go straight to being alone, but no one says that), but he has no idea if George actually is here. Is he here? What if he forgot? He wouldn’t forget about Matty, would he? Matty knows he wouldn’t, couldn’t forget about George, about maybe that’s because Matty is more attached to George than George is to him, or maybe because George doesn’t want to, or maybe Matty just isn’t worth it. He just spent two months in a psychiatric ward. Maybe he’s not worth George’s effort any more. 

Matty tries to push those thoughts out of his head. He’s not supposed to think like that anymore. He’s supposed to be done with the self-deprecation and self-hatred, done with the doubts and fears and anxieties. He’s supposed to be better. If he’s not better, what has this all been for? What has the time and the misery and the missing home and the medication and the loneliness all been for? 

It’s hard work, pushing away the kinds of thoughts that Matty has indulged for much of his life, and he’s still working at it when the nurse comes back. 

“Alright, love?” she asks, kind. “You get that paperwork done? Your man is here, so as soon as it’s done you can go home.”

“My man?” 

The nurse smiles and nods. “Yeah. George?” 

“George is here?” Matty has to ask, a little surprised. 

“He said he promised you he’d be here, but I can have him leave if-“ 

“No,” Matty interrupts. “I want, erm, don’t make him leave.” 

“How’s that paperwork, then?” 

“Done.” 

“You didn’t have to stay sitting here if it’s done, Matty. You get to go home. You are officially an outpatient.” 

“I know,” Matty says, quiet. “I just, erm, I feel,” he pauses, looking for the right word for how he feels, "unbalanced, I guess."

The nurse sets the clipboard aside and sits in the chair next to Matty, saying, "Leaving is hard sometimes. You had a routine here. You had support here that you knew how to use, that you hardly even had to ask for, but your doctors wouldn't have discharged you if they didn't believe that you could find your balance back out in the world."

Matty gives a little nod, but he doesn't say anything.

"So you go home with your man, 'cause he kept looking back here like a little kid on Christmas every time he heard a door open, and you let him help you balance, yeah?"

Matty gives another little nod.

The nurse gets to her feet and holds a hand out to pull Matty to his feet and when he takes it, adds, "And we'll see you on Thursday for outpatient group and your session. You have support. Don’t try to balance on your own."

Matty mumbles something that's supposed to sound like, "Ok," the follows the nurse out to the waiting room. George lights up as soon as he sees Matty, all brilliant, unabashed joy, and Matty can't move. He feels like he had, all too long legs and no balance, like he's going to wind up on his ass if he takes a step. That doesn't seem to deter George, because he crosses the room and pulls Matty into a tight hug. He smells like his cologne and cigarettes and weed and George and this, this feels like the warmth and comfort and love he'd been looking for.

"George," Matty forces out.

"I got you," George murmurs. "I've got you, don't worry."

"I don't wanna go home," Matty mumbles. He doesn't know why he says that, just that he can't not. He has to.

"I've got you," George repeats. "I'm right here."

"I can't go home. I can't be alone, George, I should stay here. They shouldn't let me out. George, make me stay."

"'s ok," George tries, rubbing Matty's back. When Matty chokes back a sob, George continues, "Hey, listen, come stay with me for a bit. You don't have to go home. You don't have to be alone. I've got you."

Matty shakes his head. He can’t burden George like that. He can’t saddle George with all of this. He should just turn around and ask them to check him back in, ask them to make him stay just a little longer, until he can get rid of this feeling. 

“You’re comin’ home with me,” George insists. “It’ll be ok. You’ll be ok. We’ll sort this out. I’m gonna help, Matty, let me help.” 

“You don’t have to,” Matty mumbles. His throat feels tight. 

“I want to.” 

"Why?"

George presses a kiss into Matty's curls and just says, "C'mon," and herds him out of the building, out the door, and into the car. George puts Matty's bag in the trunk without saying more. Matty just tries very, very hard to believe this is things getting better.

It's a quiet drive back to George's. He offers to stop by Matty's so he can get some things, but Matty just shakes his head and declines. George doesn't push it, which is probably wise, and they both know that Matty has enough of his own things at George's to be fine for a week or two, or longer if he decides that he's going to raid George's wardrobe, as he does when he's feeling out of sorts. George also offers the aux cord, lunch, and to stop for coffee, all of which Matty declines. He just wants, well, he’s not sure what he wants, but he doesn’t want the aux cord or lunch of coffee. He wants to balance. He wants this newborn foal, too-long limbs feeling to go away. He wants to feel like himself. He wants to feel like he can navigate the world on his own. 

George gets Matty’s bag out of the trunk when they get to his house before Matty even has the car door open. George opens the car door for him, and the front door, then leads him up the stairs to the main bedroom and starts unpacking his bag. He wasn’t allowed to wear his own clothes in the hospital, so there’s not much in the bag—mostly toiletries and a few personal items. Still, George unpacks it, putting all of Matty’s toiletries in the bathroom, the unfinished book on the nightstand, the one that’s his when he’s here, and leaves all the clothes. Matty just sits on the edge of the bed and watches, the follows George to the laundry room when he’s done with everything else. 

George is meticulous about the laundry, even though it’s all technically clean and none of it needs any kind of special treatment—it’s all old, comfy things that George packed for Matty when the decision that he was going to inpatient treatment was made. That’s how Matty thinks about the decision, as a passive kind of thing. He wasn’t active in it. 

When George gets to the bottom of the bag, he pauses and kind of laughs, then turns to where Matty is standing in the doorway and asks, “Did they let you keep the grippy socks?” 

Matty shrugs. He dimly recalls stuffing everything in his room into his bag that morning, but he doesn’t remember what he shoved in or if he was told not to take things. He does recall that the socks were new when they were given to him, still in plastic packaging that an orderly very carefully collected lest he try to suffocate himself with it or something. He doesn’t really know. 

“You’ve got, like, four pairs, here,” George continues. “Stealing from your psychiatric hospital-“

“Stop,” Matty interrupts. “I don’t, please?” 

George’s expression immediately shifts into something softer, gentler and he asks, “What’s wrong?” 

Matty wants to laugh at that. Everything is wrong. He is wrong in some fundamental way. He just shrugs. 

George sighs and abandons the laundry in favor of guiding Matty out of the laundry room and sitting him down on the sofa. “I don’t expect this to be easy and I don’t expect,” he pauses, “I mean, I don’t expect anything from you, ya’know? You’re here so you’re not alone, but if you want privacy or, or something, you can have it, I just,” another pause, “talk to me? I wish you’d talk to me is all.” 

Matty stays quiet for a moment, then, in a small voice, starts with, “Have you ever seen those videos of baby horses? Like, when they’re just born and trying to figure out how to stand up?”

George gives a confused look. "I guess."

"That's how I feel. Like all my limbs are too long and I can't get my balance and I know what I'm supposed to do, I'm supposed to go towards the love and the kindness and the care and, and you. That's what I'm supposed to go towards, but I'm, I, I feel like I'm stumbling around on, on legs I don't understand. I feel just-born and unsteady."

"How do I help?" George asks.

Matty shrugs. He's not trying to be difficult, he just doesn't know.

"I'm asking 'cause I don't know," George continues. "I mean, I know you, but I don't know this. I can be here, and I am here, but how do I help with this?"

"I don't know," Matty admits. "I should've stayed. I'm not, something's still wrong with me. I should go back, take the fucking socks back."

George sighs. "They discharged you on purpose, Matty. This is going to take some time, so let it take some time."

Matty doesn't know what he's supposed to say to that or how he's supposed to react, so it doesn't.

"I mean that," George insists. "Give it the time it needs, but as long as you need help, I am right here. As long as you need help balancing, I am here, ok?"

Matty nods. He feels a little bit like crying.

"It's gonna get better. It's gonna get easier," George says, pulling Matty close. "And I'm right here."

[betweenthings2]

I started watching The Pitt and the bad news is that apparently depictions of human emotion and tragedy make my cry but the good news is that I have new ammunition for writing the saddest fic of all time.

[betweenthings2]

Back on my Pilates princess femme!George bullshit.

[betweenthings2]

Fluff prompt 26!!

Thank you for the ask!! The most recent prompt list is here if anyone wants to see it =)

Fluff prompt 26 - "I, I think I like you, and it freaks me out because I don't know what to do or say."

George has been weird for days. In hindsight, it was a mistake. Matty's willing to acknowledge that and maybe he should have had the foresight to realize it would be a mistake, but he's a couple of years away from that kind of foresight. Hindsight is all he has for things like this. That and regret. Well, maybe regret isn't exactly the right word. He doesn't regret having done it and he doesn't regret the lead up, he just regrets the fallout, the fallout being the way George is being weird.

Matty thinks he's at most 60% responsible. Sure, he'd asked George if he ever thought about boys the way most of their peers think about girls, if he'd ever thought about kissing boys instead of girls, and when George flushed, Matty had been the one to lean close and ask if he wanted to try kissing a boy and Matty was the one who'd gotten even closer and kissed George, but he'd also been stoned, very stoned, and so was George. So maybe it's a little bit Matty's fault, maybe it's technically more his fault than anyone else's but it's also a little bit George's, too, because he was the one who gave that little nod, and it's also a little bit the weed's fault, too. Yeah, Matty will blame the weed.

Now, George is hesitating to take the cigarette Matty offers, looking at it like it might bite him before he takes it. They finished band practice ages ago and Matty supposes it counts for something that George stuck around, but

Matty leans back against the side of garage, the side out of view of the house so no one can even pretend to give Matty grief for smoking, and asks, "Ok, what is your problem?"

George looks like he's gotten caught red-handed and he coughs just a bit as he takes a drag from the cigarette, but he tries, "My problem? I don't have a problem."

"You're being weird! Ever since-" Matty waves his hand like that's enough of an indication of what he's talking about "-you've been weird."

"I'm not being weird," George protests.

"Yes, you are," Matty insists. "Do you hate me now or something?"

"How can think that?"

Matty shrugs. "You keep looking at me like, like, I dunno, like  I stole your fucking dog or something, so I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done what I did, I thought-"

"I'm not mad at you about that," George interrupts. "You don't have to apologize."

"Then what?" Matty asks. "'cause I've been tryin' my best to figure what I did and what you need me to say and I can't figure it out."

George takes another drag from the cigarette and drops it and steps on it to stub it out, saying, "You don't need to say anything. I'm not upset and you don't need to do anything, just let it go, Matty."

And then George goes, ducking back into the garage like he's going to back his things up and head home. Matty stares after him for a minute, confused, then hurries after him, saying, "George, wait!"

George stops gathering his things and turns back to face Matty and repeating, "Let it go, Matty."

"No!" Matty snaps. "I hate this halfway thing where you won't really look at me or talk to me, so tell me what I did wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong, Matthew, Christ!"

Matty pauses and takes a step back, confused again and a little hurt. "You never call me Matthew. Are you really that mad at me?"

George softens. "I'm not mad at you."

"Then what?" Matty asks, feeling a little like he's begging. "Why won't you just talk to me? I miss you."

"It doesn't matter, Matty. I'm sorry for being weird."

"If I doesn't matter, why won't you tell me?"

"Because it'll change things and I don't want things to change!"

Matty frowns. "What could you say to me that would change things between us? It's us. I'm trying make things normal between us."

"Matty," George tries.

Matty steps closer and tries again, "Please? Tell me what's goin' on?"

George is quiet for a moment, a long moment, then he picks a point on the wall beyond Matty to look at and says, "I, I think I like you, and it freaks me out because I don't know what to do or say and I can't, I don't want to lose you over this, 'cause it's stupid and I'll get over it and-"

"You're an idiot," Matty interrupts. "Why do you think I brought it up?"

George looks absolutely stunned and confused and all he can say is, "I, what?"

Instead of answering properly, Matty steps close to kiss him, then offers a small smile and says, "Me, too."

[betweenthings2]

Please Be Naked on repeat

[betweenthings2]

Cursed by being both a heels girlie and a manual transmission girlie

[betweenthings2]

Wait, will you guys tell me what my fic brand is, too?? Please?? 💚💚

[georgedanielisagirl]

george daniel and matty healy are both girls

[memepocalypse]

Worried About You

For when you don't know how it's going to end. Trigger warnings for hinted/implied suicidality/loss of life/self injury

"Are you going to come back?"

"Make me a promise. That's all I ask."

"I know that you're scared, and that's fine, but... there's more than one way out."

"I need you to stay. Even if that's selfish."

"I've never been so scared in my life, and it's because of you."

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Can you let me see? I... please?"

"This isn't right. That you feel like this."

"I want to make this better and I don't know how."

"That hollow feeling inside you isn't meant to be there."

"I'm not saying therapy would fix this but it wouldn't hurt."

"Don't make me say goodbye. I'm not ready."

"There are better choices. Bigger choices."

"Your mind is lying to you. I wish you could believe me."

"It's not that I want to leave, I'm just... tired."

"You don't understand what it's like in my head."

"Everything is just... so fuckin' much. All the time."

"Everyone's worrying about nothing."

"I just don't know why I'm not trusted to make my own decisions."

"I hope to God you never feel the way I feel."

"I know how this all ends."

"It was always going to end this way, that's okay."

"I want to be at peace."

"Everyone acts like it's so fucking easy, but it's not."

"Would you just, uh... sit with me? For a bit?"

"I'm not saying goodbye, okay?"

"You look at me like I'm a dead man walking."

"My heart is racing and I don't know how to calm it."

"Is this it? Is this all there is?"

"I want you to know, what it feels like. But that feels cruel. Because I don't want anyone else to ever, ever feel like this. Yet I want you to know. Does that make me an asshole?"

[mercyhit]

that deep pressure hug ross gives matty where he wraps his arms around him from behind and taps his shoulder and holds him… oh kill me

[mercyhit]

[betweenthings2]

Hiiii "Hey, listen - come stay with me for a bit." For the getting better prompts please!

Thank you for the ask!! The most recent prompt list is here if anyone want to see it =)

George should probably get out of bed. He should open the curtains or turn on a light, but he doesn't think he's turned a light on in a week; he's been fumbling though the house, half blind in the dark, but also blind to the mess the house has become. He's not usually like this. He's usually meticulous about things, usually keeps things neat and clean and tidy, but now, well, whoever sees this, whoever comes to figure out where he's been, what he's been doing when he doesn't answer his phone, will worry. He should probably care about that, care that he's going to make someone worry, care that people probably are worrying. He doesn't have it in him to care, just stubs out another cigarette in the overflowing ashtray and watches the sunlight that finds its way through the curtains to illuminate a strip of carpet.

He should do something. He should get out of bed, shower, change the sheets, empty the ashtray, something. He doesn't have the energy. Still, he's going to have to do something because he's running out of cigarettes and the weed is long gone and he's not so sure he can handle how he's feeling and the nicotine withdrawal. Maybe Matty will come around before then, George thinks. Matty would empty the ashtray, would coax George out of bed and into the shower, even if he just sits in the bathtub and lets the water run over him, would change the sheets and start the laundry and tidy up and maybe leave some groceries in the kitchen.

Or maybe Matty will never come and it's all up to George to get himself out of bed or into the shower or to change the sheets or do the shopping or the laundry or simply buy another pack of cigarettes. Maybe George will never get himself out of this bed. Maybe this is all there is.

And then the front door opens. George can hear it from the bedroom, the sound of the door opening and then falling shut the way Matty always lets the door fall shut. There's quiet after that and George has no idea what Matty is doing in the quiet time between the door falling shut and when he appears in the bedroom doorway a few minutes later. He looks soft--soft curls falling into his face, soft jumper with sleeves falling over his hands, soft, kind expression on his face, socks soft and quiet against the floor. He stays in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe and speaks.

"Hey, how ya doing?"

George doesn't answer.

"Ok," Matty says before coming into the room. He pulls the curtains about halfway open and picks up the laundry and takes it before coming back for the ashtray. He leaves an empty one when he takes it and a new pack of cigarettes, still in the plastic wrapping, then leaves again.

When Matty comes back, he sits on the edge of the bed and strokes his fingers through George's hair, gentle, soft. He doesn't say anything for a few moments, just keeps going with that gentle touch, even though it's been ages since George actually washed his hair. It's nice and George hopes Matty never leaves.

"Hey, listen," Matty starts after a while, "come stay with more for a little while. Just until you feel better. Or longer, if you want. Just, I, I don't like that you're layin' in bed all along, feelin' shit all alone."

George shakes his head.

"Why not?"

George is quiet for a moment, then, "Make you miserable, too."

Matty offers a very soft, kind little smile, loving and gentle, and says, "That's sweet, G, but that's not the point. I'm worry about you, darlin'. Come home with me. I'll pack you some things and we'll get you outta here, and I'll help you 'til you don't need it anymore, 'k?"

"Always need you," George mumbles before he can stop himself.

"Then come stay with me for a bit," Matty tries again. "Long as you want, even if you're miserable."

"Matty."

"I want you to," Matty insists. "I want you to come home with me. Don't think you're imposing, or somethin' or, or that you're gonna make me miserable 'cause you're miserable. I know how this goes, George, I know you need some time to get through it, but love can't hurt, can it?"

"Matty," George repeats.

Matty tucks hair behind George's ear, still with that soft, kind look and gentle hands, saying, "Just say yes. It'll help, I promise, and if it doesn't, well, at least you won't be alone."

George knows he shouldn't. He shouldn't bring this down on Matty, on Matty's wonderful, cozy home, shouldn't bring this heavy, sticky kind of misery down on Matty, but Matty has gentle hands and that soft look, and he emptied the ashtray, so George nods and the smile Matty gives him is almost enough to make him feel a little bit better.

[betweenthings2]

Please please please can you do a fic with some more about when Matty is in the ward and his relationship with George during that time? x

There will be more fictional!Matty in the psych ward soon, I promise! I have two more asks with this prompt, "you're going to get better, but I know you have to stay here a bit longer," and I'm planning on one day eventually writing a prequel to Where Do We Go From Here? which will feature fictional!Matty in the psych ward. Maybe after Dogs??

[betweenthings2]

Dogs snippit today? :)

There was a dogs snippet, like, four days ago, but sure =) It's very sad and I say that with a comical, children's-cartoon-villain glee. Nothing happy has happened in this fic so far. It's 10k words of fictional!Matty being so miserable.

“No. Fuck off, George. I, I’ll call when I don’t feel like I hate you anymore.”

George doesn’t move. Matty thinks he looks like he might cry and he certainly sounds like he might cry when he asks, “You hate me?”

“No. Yes. No. Yes.” Matty pauses, then, “I love you, but anger feels a lot like hate.”

“Matty, please. Don’t do this. Don’t make me go. Please. Yell or cry or something, but not this. Please.”

Matty shakes his head. “You left. You left me here, when I needed you, when I needed someone who loves me, when I needed the person I love, and you did it while I was asleep. You didn’t even have the guts to tell me. You made Ross tell me.”

“Matty, please. I can’t, I, please, don’t do this. Not like this. Matty, please.” “I said go!” Matty snaps. “What part of ‘go’ do you not understand?”

“All of it! The part where it’s you saying that to me!”

Matty sits up a little bit straighter, not minding the twinge in his ribs when he moves, as he responds with, “And I didn’t understand you leaving! I didn’t understand you not being here when you promised! I didn’t understand what I did to make you not care!” “You overdosed, Matty! How was I supposed to watch that and stay? How was I supposed to sit here and know that it wouldn’t change anything, that you would keep burying your fucking head in the sand like no one else can tell you’re not well?”

[betweenthings2]

Hiii what's queued for tomorrow? x

Hi! Tomorrow is a prompt from the getting better list. It's a prompt I said wouldn't be posted until the middle of this month, but I moved a bunch of things around when I posted on Sunday. I also have a new prompt list scheduled for Friday =)