#alex's writing struggles

[deanwinchesterwebsite]

It's the summer of '91. Enter Sandman is on the radio, Jeffery Dahmer was just arrested, and 12 year old Dean and 8 year old Sam are spending a few days in Blue Moon, Montana. Only a few days, right? Dean makes a friend, finds a case, and waits for his dad to come back. He also swims in the river, watches Thelma and Louise in theaters, gives himself a stick and poke, and wishes his dad wouldn't come back. Sam, on the other hand, is reading as much as he can, stealing Dean's new best friend, and noticing the cracks in the story Dean tells him about their life.

Chapter 1 now on AO3

Hi guys!! I decided to start posting my August 1991 fic as we end August 2024 :-) It's almost 100% Dean POV, with some John for storytelling. I'll be trying to post weekly, but we'll see if my buffer is enough. Please join me~

[3dprintcess]

Spaceship Greg [AO3]

M/M, Explicit, 77k words, Taskmaster UK sci-fi AU, fandom-blind friendly.

A sci-fi space fic where Greg is a spaceship, and Alex is an escaped, drug-chemist, slave. They have a bad time, finding comfort in each other.

After decades of indentured servitude on Al Murray’s private moon, Alex has made a break for it – scrambling through a junkyard in a desperate bid for freedom. He’s terrified, bleeding, and fears a laser blast in his back at any moment, but he would never in a million years expect to literally stumble upon a half-junked spaceship from the war in need of a name, a purpose, and most of all, a friend.

He reaches out his hand, and carefully wipes away years and years of dust from the cold metal surface – feeling the engraving rippling on his fingertips. The plaque reads “Geran Republic 3Ө, Stellar Monitor Warship” There’s a date too – which seems to be the commission date – forty-three years ago.

“Can I call you Greg?”

Animated gif commissioned from the incomparable @debbie-sketch. Absolutely beautiful, such soft warm colours, and has a bit of an Iron Giant vibe! They were a delight to work with <3

[glorious-blackout]

Wishing a massive happy birthday to the wonderful @rock-n-roll-fantasy! 🥰💖 I hope you're having a lovely day and that your year is filled with amazing books and music and opportunities to geek out over Terry Pratchett and Tolkien (I promise I still fully intend to read the Lord of the Rings series and I look forward to screaming at you about them when I do 😅) 💚

I seem to have run out of wholly fluffy Milex ideas for your birthday fics so I apologise in advance for the angsty moments in this one, but I've tried to sprinkle some sweet fluffy moments throughout where I can! Including some shameless LOTR references because I couldn't resist... 😉

[samu-writes]

Some days ago I posted this Challenges One Shot. In this we can see more of Oscar’s autism and Lando’s ADHD; it all comes from personal experience, but now I don’t really have many other ideas.

So, I decided to post a poll :))

Of course, feel free to request something both here or in my requests :))

Remember this is a whump series ✨🌈

[noxexistant]

ai-less whumptober; day eight

@ailesswhumptober 8 — rope burns, gagged, “You’re so much prettier this way.” ↳ the refuge word count; 1.1k

cw; grooming, manipulation

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Morris hadn't meant to freak out.

Truly, he never does — it just happens. Always has, ever since he was tiny, whenever he's feeling too much.

And he's been feeling on edge for days.

Oscar has been ignoring him completely ever since getting back from solitary a few days ago, not talking to him or even looking at him, so Morris has been alone. He doesn't deal well with being alone. He's not supposed to be on his own. He can't sleep when he's alone, so he's tired, and he hasn't eaten because Oscar hasn't been making him, and his throat hurts from all his talking.

He'd been attempting to rectify the loneliness.

He'd talked and talked the first couple of days, desperately rambling and chattering and babbling to try and get something out of Oscar, engage him in conversation or annoy him into anger or anything, but none of it had worked — until finally the words had seemed to dry up in Morris' throat after endless attempts with no results, and he could no longer speak at all, no matter how desperately he wanted to. He'd been helpless, utterly silent then.

Silent, at least, until one of the other boys had tried to strike — trying to take advantage of Morris being devoid, for once, of his older brother's protection.

Morris can't remember much of it. The details. But he remembers being grabbed by his hair and dragged to the floor, pinned. He remembers being called awful things, things Da used to call him, and hit and slammed down and and strangled.

He remembers turning and going at the boy like a dog the first moment his hold had slipped.

He remembers hitting him, over and over, again and again, as hard as he possibly could. He knows he'd been screaming — he'd kept screaming, unable to stop, even as two guards came in and wrenched him from the boy, tossed him aside like a sack of grain. But Morris had started on himself then, hitting and scraping as deep as his worn-down nails could get into his skin, still shouting and screaming. He'd slammed his head into the leg of the nearest bunk, then the floor, again and again until the guards had managed to get ahold of him again and restrain him.

They'd dragged him off then, legs being scraped bloody along the filthy ground, and when he'd started to wail again, a swift hit had knocked him unconcious.

He doesn't know where he is now, but it's quiet.

There's a gag in his mouth.

It's soft, Morris thinks. Cotton, maybe, and it smells like Snyder's clothes do — rich and clean, like it's been freshly washed, though it's tied no less tightly at the back of his skull than any other gag has ever been. He tries to move, tries to reach hazily for the knot to see if he can work it loose, and finds his hands won't go where he wants them to. Won't move at all.

They're behind him, he realises. Another hazy pull triggers another scrape of something around his wrists, so he pulls again, and again, wrists beginning to burn —

"Morris," Snyder tuts. "You should know by now that you're only wasting your energy when you fuss like this. And you're wearing your poor skin away. You'll have yet more scars."

He's close, Morris realises. Somewhere behind him. He flinches when a hand touches him suddenly — an instinctive reaction, trained. But Snyder's touch is gentle. An uncalloused hand clasping carefully around one bony wrist, a thumb tracing the warmed skin where his bindings end.

It's rope, he realises. Thick, awful rope. Snyder makes a sympathetic noise.

"It is a pity," he soothes. "But you were causing yourself needless injury — and we can't have that, can we?"

Morris hears him stand, and then a few, rhythmic clicks of his immaculate leather shoes as he walks slowly around to Morris' front. Snyder's eyes are dark, looking down on him with something indescribable in his face.

"And you're so much prettier this way."

It's a whisper, like something private. Something he perhaps wasn't meant to hear.

Morris doesn't…feel especially pretty. Not right now.

His skin feels raw all over. He hurts, not at all helped by how he'd scratched and scraped at himself just earlier. His head is pounding from him hitting it — or maybe it's from that hit that had knocked him out. He tries to speak, though he has no idea what there is he could say, but all he manages is a muffled, garbled noise behind the gag, all too aware of how drool is pooling in his mouth.

The very corner of Snyder's lip twitches.

He reaches out with the back of his hand, like Morris is a dog to be tamed, and traces his knuckles softly along the side of his bruised cheek. Then dares to turn his hand, cradle Morris' jaw just beneath where the gag runs across the softness above it.

"You are quieter than your brother. None of his mouthiness." It's praise, from a line of thought Morris hasn't been a part of, though he soaks it up regardless. "But the awful wailing, the screaming. We'll have to curb that. And then..."

Then what?

Snyder must see the question in Morris' face, because his lip twitches again.

He doesn't say anything more.

Morris spends that night in solitary, but Snyder comes and fetches him first thing, and Morris spends the morning sat in Snyder's office. He perches on a chair with his wrists still bound behind him, gag still in place to keep him silent, and he simply watches as Snyder eats his breakfast, reads the morning paper, looks over some paperwork.

Snyder looks pleased when he's finished and Morris has been sat still and obedient the entire time. The look makes Morris' chest bloom with pride, and something else he doesn't recognise as Snyder approaches. He leans down and gently unties Morris' wrists with effortless experience, soothes his thumbs over the reddened burns that remain when the ropes are gone.

And, for the first time in his life, Morris has his minor injuries tended to with expensive medicine and proper care. Herbal-smelling salve rubbed into his wrists by gentle hands, and a clean towel soaked with cool water held to his bruised cheek.

When he returns to the bunk room, it's with a stomach full of fresh, buttered toast, and a clean face, bandaged wrists. And Oscar talks to him immediately. Drags him close and demands to know what happened, what Snyder did, if Morris is okay.

Morris tells him, but not everything. Too betrayed by his brother to let slip the promises Snyder had made, about more rewards if Morris is good. The quiet remark that there's something special in him, something Snyder wants to cultivate.

For the first time, Morris keeps something to himself.

[quigzahhutt]

9 or 46 with Liam/Alex

ooooh I think I'm gonna try and do both >:) save me 2021 vaguely toxic lialex ....

9. "in public" / 46. "out of envy or jealousy"

for the kiss prompt game!

Alex was leaving. Alex was getting calls and offers and lifelines and he was leaving. He wouldn't be Liam's teammate for the rest of the year. He's talking to other people and he doesn't need Liam to drive him around anymore and it's gut-wrenching.

And it's ridiculous how much Liam cares– how much he wishes he was in Alex's seat, wearing his uniform and being pulled aside by all these seemingly important people who are here to offer him jobs.

He hates how much he feels left behind. He hates how much he knows Alex doesn't feel the same.

Because Alex is always so dismissive. He thanks Liam for the ride, and then battles him on track for p7 like it's the most important overtake of his life. He sounds so much smarter in debriefs, well-educated in the discussion in a way Liam has never been able to achieve.

He wants to be Alex. He wants to be the one getting calls from red bull, from Williams and Alfa Romeo. He wants to make the impact that Alex has, and yet he can't even make an impact on the guy himself.

Because Alex is leaving on Monday, and he seems hardly affected by it at all; but Liam is so affected it makes him dizzy. He's losing his teammate– his teammate he so desperately wants to be. His teammate who will probably replace Liam with a brand new, totally smart teammate in 2 weeks time.

Someone nudging his shoulder forces Liam back into his body, and he flinches where he's sitting, completely unaware of what was just discussed in the team briefing. The bony shoulder could only belong to one person.

Alex's ridiculously elongated figure unfolds from the booth seat next to him, and he has an easy smile on his lips as he juts his head in the direction of the door, signally Liam to get up and start making his way to the track.

When Liam doesn't move, Alex's lips shift into a frown, his eyebrows curling into something concerned.

"You alright, mate?" His cool accent slips easily through his teeth, and it makes Liam furiously jealous.

His voice is always so collected, proper and organized like a faultless machine, and he envies it every time he hears Alex speak during team meetings, because Liam is nothing like that.

Liam is young, and his naivete sneaks out of his mouth without his consent, and it makes it so painfully obvious, then, why Alex is always the desired one.

Because he's calculated; Alex knows what he wants and he's good at getting it. Liam is sure that everyone only remembers him for his undeveloped maturity and his foul mouth.

That's probably all Alex will remember him for, too.

Suddenly, Liam is standing up, calling Alex's name and catching his attention, waving him back to the team motorhome. He has to make sure Alex knows him for something special, something that other people don't know.

Alex makes his way back quickly, skipping a step on his way up the utilitarian stairs, the metal skeleton rattling with each press of Alex's weight.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Alex asks, reiterating himself from earlier, and Liam wants to scoff.

"This is your last race," he states plainly, as if Alex doesn't know that clear as day.

"Yeah? Are you- is there something you're worried about?" Alex asks, his tone shifting with genuine concern, seemingly conflicted over whether or not to take Liam's distress seriously.

A nonsensical fury bubbles up in Liam's esophagus, and he can hardly stop himself before he surges up and presses his lips to Alex's.

It catches them both off guard, so it results in something clumsy and uncoordinated. He has to stand on his tip toes, and his hands are placed ungracefully on Alex's hips, while Alex's hands are idling in the air, braced like he expected Liam to tackle him to the ground.

Alex is soon shoving him off by the shoulders, a borderline disgusted expression on his face, but Liam knows the truth– he had felt Alex's lips press harder against his, how they moved in a way that could only be purposeful, even if it was for the briefest moment.

"Liam- what the hell? You can't just-" Alex is speechless, his mouth opening and closing, small noises of disbelief eking out now and again.

"That was so stupid, what were you thinking- Liam, what the fuck," he finally settles on with a breathless laugh, and his hands are still planted heavily on Liam's shoulders, his arms straightened out as if to keep him away.

Liam's arms are hanging loosely at his sides now, and the tips of his fingers tingle with something like regret, or maybe thrill; they might as well be the same thing.

"I know what I'm doing, dude, just-" Liam spits, interrupted by a humorless laugh from Alex, the sound cutting through the air without remorse.

"Clearly not! This is-" Alex is back to doing his stuttering thing again, starting and ending sentences before they can even form into a coherent thought.

"You kissed back," Liam points out, cutting off Alex's spluttering, and the other man's face twists into something he couldn't explain even if he tried.

It's something like shock, but deeper, saturated with an unhealthy layer of guilt, and something else indescribable.

"That's not- this could ruin our careers, Liam, do you even realize how fucking- just, ridiculous you're being," Alex asks, except it's not a question; it's aimed at him like he's trying (and failing) to teach him a lesson.

The door next to them is still wide open, their profiles exposed the rest of the trailer park. Anyone could have seen them kiss, could have seen the way Alex reciprocated, could have seen the way they're both teeming with raw energy.

"It's not like either of us have much of a career to ruin," Liam spits, and that's when Alex finally lets go, releases Liam's shoulders from his grasp with a harsh shove.

"You know what- I'm leaving. Just- come to the garage when you can, and don't do that ever again. Fucking ridiculous," Alex huffs before storming off, gliding down the stairs in one easy motion before he begins slogging his way through the damp grass surrounding their trailer.

Liam just watches as Alex leaves; he feels miles away already, like he's already left the team, raced his last race and abandoned this part of his history like it never happened.

Liam knows it did, though. He has a feeling Alex won't forget it, either.

ooohhhhh this request was HARD but I actually LOVED writing it!!

it was nice writing Liam and Alex again, too; 2021 lialex is one of my favorite dynamics to write– there's just SO MUCH THERE. age difference, power imbalance, bratty Liam, weak conscience Alex. it has everything and more and I love it

[jasntodds]

Any tips on writing smut? or like words that are really cringy that I shouldn't use?

Honestly, idk if I'm the right person to ask lol I just power through writing smut 😅 I think I'd just say to read smut and kind of pull inspo from other writers (not mimic them or copy them, just pull inspo) and then just try to have fun with it!! I think with writing anything, the more fun YOU have while writing, the more fun your readers will have while reading it because you're actually enjoying the process. Definitely check out @silkscream and @pinkchubbiebunnie they're two of my favorite writers and their smut is honestly TOP tier

As for words, honestly, I think anything is fair game in smut. I've read every word under the sun in smut lol I am not a fan of the word moist even in smut so that's about it and that's just a personal preference of mine but other people don't mind with smut 😂

[emotinalsupportturtle]

After much deliberation, I’ve come to the conclusion that in a Venn diagram, this is where David Tennant and Alex Turner would intersect:

Twink death dilf birth

Pretty influential to 2000s British and pop culture

Low-key looks like that rat from flushed away

Stutters a whole lot in interviews but are also incredibly articulate

Homoerotic best-friend-creative-partnership

Chronically offline

Has great hair

[lozeyart]

I went back to my old (abandoned) webcomic "Below Our Feet" and chose this page to redraw (because it was easy and I'm lazy). Also added some closeups! Mistakes I made this time around were that I made my canvas too small to work on, so on the new page, the word bubbles look too cramped (oh well, lesson learned) but overall I think I really improved! At least when it comes to the art side of things. When I was most of the way through I actually wished I had changed up the panel layout, and wished I showed them together in the same panels more than twice. I did change some of the dialogue slightly and changed how Alex (the taller one) dresses. This is on me when I made the comic, but the story takes place in 1847 in a fictional English town and I accidentally dressed Alex up in a mix of Regency and Victorian era clothing because I didn't do enough research. He is now wearing appropriate Victorian era clothing, albeit mid Victorian era clothing as there are more sources on clothing in the 1870s vs the 1840s. A part of me misses this webcomic and wants to do a reboot, there are a lot of things I would do differently, and I'd want to make it more of a slow burn, as I felt I was rushing things in the original, but I don't have the drive to do this project anymore, and want to do other things. But I still love my boys! Maybe one day I'll do something with them and their story, who knows!

[vraska-theunseen]

i really really really hate this post it's so personally irritating to me bc like why is this your example why are you defending the sanctity of fucking email. why are you saying it's embarrassing to not be able to write an email. it's a fucking email. i get really anxious and im better about it now but in high school i would get so nervous sending emails i would have to have my teachers coach me tell me exactly what to say because i just had no idea how to phrase things how to ask for what i was trying to ask for and communicate it it was the same with papers i had like a paranoia about being wrong and being misinterpreted and so I just couldn't think of how to structure my sentences in the way i thought they should be that would communicate what i needed to correctly and i would get anxious thinking about how if i said something the teacher would get an idea about how i think and the opinions i have and draw conclusions about me and if what i said wasn't perfectly articulated to mean what i mean they would think something of me that was wrong and that was terrifying so i just wouldn't write papers i wouldn't write emails i would get 0s i would cause complications and i wouodnt be able to explain to people trying to help me why i didn't do it i just couldn't and i don't think i would have ever used chatgpt to write an essay for me if it was an option it wouldn't be my own words and opinion and that's exactly what i was anxious about in the first place but i might've used an email prompt to let me know what is a normal response and help me structure a sentence like what is with this fucking sentiment of "what do you mean you can't do this yourself that's embarassing" why are you people fucking agreeing with something saying that. hating ai ubiquitously no matter what without thinking about why rots your brain

[ace-writer-lani]

Works

Hi I'm Lani! I go by she/they. Sometimes I draw, but I mainly write fanfics. (I've recently gotten back into writing PJO fics).

Anyways, I'll be linking all of my finished/WIP ao3 works here as well as some future fics I have planned.

My asks are always open if you want to ask questions about my fics or if you just want to say hi! (I'm always down to ramble about all the character lore I have stored in my notes).

Current WIPs:

-The Blooming from Darkness series (My son of Persephone Nico AU)

Part one: One Death One Bloom (completed; 14.6k) Pre-Lotus Hotel & Casino Part two: Hidden Seeds (completed; 9.5k) In the Lotus Hotel & Casino Part three: The Children of Spring and Destruction (WIP; 19.7k) Titan's Curse -> HoO

-Violence: The Question (A Series) (WIP)

A fic centering around Reyna pre-canon/pre-TLH

-A Final Revelation (WIP; 3.3k)

Based on this post where Jason is stuck as a ghost in the living world and can't enter the Underworld until he resolves his Unfinished Business: confessing his feelings to Leo

-The Undeserved and Unfinished (WIP)

Coming soon

-The Languages of Love by Solangelo series

The Love Language of Lying (completed; 9.9k)

Solangelo fic based on this post

The Love Language of Fighting (completed; 1.1k)

Will spars against Nico

The Love Language of Gifts (WIP; 2k)

Solangelo 5+1 fic based on this post

-The Sparks of Fire (Valgrace) series

Engines and Explosions (completed; 1.1k)

Valgrace oneshot based on this post

Kitchens and Kisses (completed; 2k)

Leo somewhat tries to teach Jason to bake

-2024 Solangelo Week

The Love Language of Fighting (completed; 1.1k)

Prompt: Free Day

-Notes of Change (WIP; 13.3k)

This is my small Solangelo post BoO fic

Completed Fics:

-Only know for sure that I'm all yours (forever) (1.4k)

Solangelo proposal fic based on this post

Some of the common tags I sort my posts by:

[kawaaiju]

It's been a long day of catching up with various clues Anderson left him from her night of surveillance, putting them all together and now Casey was feeling the exhaustion of the day catching up to him. The apartment was warm, he was laying in the sunny spot on the couch and from the distance he could hear the sounds of water running and quiet humming. He was content. Content and quickly drifting away. He promised he wouldn't, promised to stay awake since he hasn't seen Alan in almost a day but the second he closed his eyes sleep took him over. The water shut off and the humming quieted down few moments later. Silence filled the sunny apartment and then soft steps approached the couch.

Alan draped the blanket over the sleeping form before him with a small huff. He debated it for a second before climbing in himself and snuggling close, stealing some of the blanket for himself.

Seeing Casey relaxed made him calmer. Last few nights were again filled with restlessness and tears. He trusted Casey could take care of himself but every night he was out on a case, made Alan uneasy. But he didn't want to be a problem so he just pretended to be asleep when he finally felt the other man slip into the bed and curl into his side. His anxieties started eating at him to the point he was unable to fall asleep even with Casey there the whole night, warm and asleep under him.

But for now the sun felt so good in his hair and on his skin and closing his eyes, Alan begged for a few moments of sleep. Few moments in the warmth that he created.

Casey stirred and sleepily pulled him closer, kissing his forehead.

It made him tense for a second, remind him of his fears, of darkness, of FBC. But he couldn't worry Casey with any of that, not when he was on a new high profile case, so he calmed down and just pretended again.

[danidoesathing]

am i the only one who feels like alex(the world ender guy) was kind of a missed oportunity in vide noir? like, he was set up by johnnie to be a badass gang leader just for him to never even appear in the end, we just got a close up to his face scar

i feel like buck's encounter with the psychic would've been way more powerful if it was alex instead. its implied that johnnie and moonbeam had a relationship ig, but its barely even hinted at, and he never even mentions her. but with johnnie and alex, johnnie actually mentions him and speaks highly of his brother, and says alex will help buck if he sees the red cloth that belonged to johnnie

the fact that all that build up led to buck not even TALKING to alex kinda irks me. imagine how much better the payoff would be if alex had received the cloth instead of moonbeam? if we had seen his reaction to johnnie's death? if he would've helped buck like johnnie said he would? if we saw what johnnie implied alex would do to the guys who black brained his brother? idk man i think we were robbed

im new to the fanbase, so im gonna be very embarassed if this is a topic that already came up here LOLL but i still wanted to get it off my chest💀sry if this ask is messy, i suck at writing down my thoughts lmao

No I gotta agree on that. Like I LOVED seeing Moonbeam and getting know her as her and having all this new information about her (her being part of the World Enders is still wild to me and I love it) and it’s a good scene and all, but I’m still confused as to why they built up Alex so much, especially since this is the first time we’re hearing about him, and he never even got the chance to speak. If it were Dale I’d be a bit more understanding as we know him already (tho not by much cause I would have loved to see more of Dale). But it’s Alex, whose not only the leader of the World Enders but also Johnnie’s (and Dale’s) brother. I would’ve have loved to, you know, actually meet the guy. Especially with how much build up he got. And I GET IT Lord Huron’s lore is meant to be weird and vague and hard to pin down but like. Didn’t need to tease me like that come on

The only reason I could think of was maybe they needed to get Buck on his own again? Like having this the beginning of a war between the World Enders and Z’Oieasu shown or having Buck work with them consistently might have thrown off the tone. It is supposed to be Buck’s story and his own descent into madness. The whole album has this isolated vibe to me, like being alone in a city of people Hard to get that when there’s other people around, especially a group as lively as the world enders. Or maybe they just wanted to include Moonbeam back into the story again lol

GOD I would have loved to see Moonbeam’s scene with Buck done with Alex. I can only imagine how that scene would’ve played out and his reaction to Johnnie’s death. Contrasting Buck’s scene with Johnnie with Alex’s own personality, the possible dynamics, the anger and grief that could arise…..ough

[not-poignant]

hello :))) for the meme - the wind that cuts the night (<3) - 17

17. What was the hardest scene to write?

*thinks* That's such a long time ago now (7 years) that I don't actually fully remember that well.

That being said the scene that required the most research, hand down, was Elliott's garden. All those plants I used are coastal tolerant plants that can handle ocean winds directly coming off the sea.

I knew that like... 'coastal tolerant' doesn't necessarily mean 'literally living on or near sand dunes', and that ruled out most plants. I probably spent, all up, about 8 solid hours over 4 consecutive days researching plants, images of houses that used those plants (so I could see how close to the sea they were), what the plants looked like flowering, and of course I had to look through over about 300 different species of plant to narrow down my list.

To this day, for something that amounted to like, a fairly short description of the plants re: Alex describing them to Elliott, that's like...the most research I ever did for that fic. Once I had the research done, writing the scene was from memory pretty easy. But the research was intense!

~

From this meme!

[queermania]

Why does everybody hate Berens? What did he do?

apart from the j1/w*ncest crowd, i don't think people really do at all. he's kind of beloved in fandom. there is a (very small) group of us hellers, however, who have noticed that he is largely responsible for some of our least favorite things in dabb era specifically (but really just in general with how he writes). most of the angry!dean stuff comes from his episodes (he seems to be under the impression that dean is just angry and there's nothing else to it which is in stark contrast with the general dean thesis of 'i'm not mad. i'm worried.'). he also wouldn't know subtlety and nuance if it hit him over the head. and then there's all the racism, most specifically in regards to kaia, but it's in other places too. the racism is obviously the biggest issue, but it kind of gets glossed over for reasons i can only guess at but i'm sure include 'omg he's the destiel warrior! we wouldn't have destiel without him!' (which is simply not true. does robbie 'goodbye stranger' thompson mean nothing to you?)

[watercolor-hearts]

As someone who lives and breathes hurt/comfort, I couldn't help but write a little something after seeing this video of Alex and George discussing Alex's injury. So yeah, nurse Russell is on the case.

Alex/George • 1036 words • hurt/comfort • first-aid • (a little bit of) angst • fluff • cuddles • they might be in love. might. • Ao3 link

-

Alex had just sat down a minute ago but now there was someone outside his hotel room banging on the door.

“What the hell?!,” Alex muttered under his breath as he stood up to open the door. He just wanted to rest until tomorrow morning; he wasn't in the mood for long chit-chats or parties.

“This is not normal!” George said, furiously, marching into Alex's hotel room with something in his hand Alex couldn't quite recognize at first glance.

“What's not normal?” Alex asked after closing the door.

“That your back was bleeding,” George said, opening the thing Alex hadn't recognized first but now knew what it was and his eyes went wide.

“Why did you bring a first-aid kit?”

“Because your back was bleeding, Alex,” George said without looking at Alex because he was busy packing out some things from the kit, “And it wasn't the first time.”

“God, George,” Alex laughed, “you're overreacting.”

“I'm not!”

“Georgie,” Alex sat on the bed in front of George, softly placing his hand on the driver's chin to lift his head to be able to look into his beautiful blue eyes which were now filled with worry alongside a little bit of anger, “I'm okay. It's not the first time, yeah, but it always heals for the next race. Patrick had already seen it and said I'll survive so no need to worry. Okay?

“Just—just let me—,” George gestured towards the disinfectant and the gauze pads lying on the bed, making it a holy trinity with the graze dressing next to them, “—please.”

“If that's what you want, nurse Russell,” Alex smiled, caressing George's cheek with his thumb, “then, please, patch me up. What do I need to do?” Alex asked, even though he knew what to do but wanted to let George do it how he wants to. If George wants to be his nurse, he can be, there's no problem with it. Alex has always liked comfort and care, especially from George. And George has always liked to provide it, especially to Alex.

“Okay, so, take off your T-shirt and then turn around or lie down on the bed, whichever is more comfortable for you.”

Alex nodded and took off his T-shirt.

“I'm going to lie down I think,” he said, looking at George, who nodded in encouragement.

“Please.”

And then when Alex made himself comfortable, George put a bit of a disinfectant on one of the gauze pads and moved a bit closer to Alex.

“Now I'm going to clean the wound with a bit of a disinfectant. I'll try to be as gentle as I can but I apologize in advance if it hurts,” he said, putting his free hand on Alex's shoulder to be able to take a closer look at the graze and its surroundings. It made him angry to see it because it wasn't normal to get an injury like this. Especially not every race weekend. Williams needed to do something. They can't make their driver injured and then expect the best performance from him.

“Don't worry, Georgie,” Alex said, smiling, “just go ahead and do it. I won't cry.”

“I know,” George smiled, too. “Okay, I'm going to do it now,” he warned and then carefully cleaned the graze and then the skin around it too. Alex didn't say anything, he didn't even flinch, just kept breathing steadily.

“Now I'm gonna put on the graze dressing, it should make it heal faster and not dry out,” George explained as he opened it and then carefully put it over the graze, softly patting the edges to stick. “One more thing and we're done,” he said and then leaned over Alex's back, placing a soft kiss next to the graze dressing. “This one is for the quick healing. Just to make sure. Your battle scar is now all patched up.”

“Special care from my personal nurse as I see.”

“Someone has to care about you. And they clearly don't. They just let their warrior to be in pain every race weekend,” George said with an angry and disappointed tone, packing everything back into the first-aid kit and then putting it on the bedside table. Alex turned around to lie on his side and face George.

“They care about me. It's because of my height. They can't really do anything about it,” Alex explained, reaching out to caress George's face and hair as the driver was lying next to him.

“If they cared, they would've found a solution. Changing your seat or putting some padding into your fireproof, or even just putting some plaster on to protect your skin.”

“Yeah,” Alex nodded, “maybe you're right.”

“I'm gonna go and talk to them tomorrow. They can't let this happen every time. It's not good for you, for your skin. It's not easy to bring good results when your seat rips your skin.”

“I'm gonna be okay, you've just made sure by cleaning it and putting a graze dressing on it. You can now let it go because we should sleep.”

“I just don't want you to be in pain,” George murmured, moving closer to Alex to cuddle him.

“I'm not in pain anymore. You're a good nurse, Georgie. It could be a good second carrier for you after retirement” Alex smiled, changing their position a bit so now he was the one cuddling George. George needed it more, it was clear. Alex held him close to his body, his naked torso radiating warmth towards George's face. It was nice for him to feel Alex this close. Alex was gonna be okay. It's just a small injury, George kept reminding himself.

“Maybe as your personal nurse, if you keep getting injuries.”

“Maybe I'll keep getting them so you can nurse me back to health every time,” Alex said, with a soft smile, kissing George's soft and a bit messy hair.

“You like it, yeah?”

“I always like it when you're here with me,” Alex confessed, fearing George could feel his heart racing in his chest because he was only a few millimeters from it. “I like you.”

“Maybe I like you too,” George murmured, looking at Alex for a moment before putting a soft kiss on his lips and then burying his face into Alex's chest, feeling the pounding of his heart on his cheek.