#paging George bc I was yapping about them to them

[latibvles]

friends.

more OCs? more OCs. anyways hi there, plucking from the HBO WWII Rewatch Prompt list — I figured it’d be fun to use it to throw more OCs at the wall and gesture like a crazy woman introduce characters who have been hiding in my docs! Yay lady-pilots and women in the military. Anyways here’s Viv, here’s Willie, and here’s me capitalizing on one of the 100th’s Training Stories that is deeply amusing to ME. if you remember reading this little number — it's the same crew! :) hope you like it

—

“Heard some of them ended up in Vegas.”

“Vegas? No shit.”

“Mhm, word up the ladder is it’s not looking too good for the Colonel.”

There’s a vacancy in the Officer’s Club tonight that was hard not to notice. Not many had made it to their destination — save for the three all-women ones, talking in their hushed whispers, as though recognizing the obvious would get the wings snatched from their uniforms. There wasn’t much time to celebrate a practice exercise well-flown, even if they’d earned it. Even if they were expected to fail and yet were the only demographic of the 100th to pass with flying colors. 

It was a bad look. Most of the 100th was at present spread across the Western U.S, over half of them entirely missing the airfield meant to be their target. Which, if you asked Vivian, was just telling of how many of the men were able to get comfortable quickly — a luxury that she and her crew didn’t have.

Ah, but no one’s asking you much of anything these days, are they, Viv?

Her gaze lifts up towards the approaching figure, fingers curled around two bear bottles. Willie’s expression gives about as much away as it typically does; which is to say, it gives away nothing at all, lips pressed into their neutral state of a tight line, brows furrowed as she sets one bottle on the table and slides it towards her.

“Here I thought you were standing me up,” Viv offers, which gets Willie to crack — just enough that she’s exhaling sharply through the nose and rolling her eyes with subtle affection.

“Right, cause you’ve been stood up,” Willie fires back as Vivian takes the beer bottle from her. “Fat chance, Savorre.”

“I do love when you sweet talk me,” Vivian coos, to which Willie rolls her eyes once more as she surveys the space, taking a seat on the opposing side of the table.

If you’d asked Vivian a long while ago, she’d swear up and down that Wilhelmina Neumann did not like her — for some inexplicable reason. To which the other women in their bunkhouse would attest to something similar. Her black-haired companion always had that very slight frown to her lips, that furrowed brow that suggested she was either disapproving of something or deep in thought. That, and she didn’t talk much. Nowadays, Vivian was more than proud to boast about her multiple successes in making Willie laugh. Willie, not Wilhelmina, because according to the woman herself, it was just “too many syllables.”

She, like the rest of their crew, knew that when Willie had something to say, it’d be in their benefit to listen.

“Any word on Alkire?” Vivian asks, curiously. Willie shakes her head.

“Heard he ended up in Vegas.” Vivian snorts, then fixes Willie with a look, trying to discern if this was one of Willie’s deadpan remarks as opposed to a serious observation.

“You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was. I think another plane ended up in Tennessee,” Willie looks towards the door, her brows furrowed. “How many of them are losing their wings, do you think?” Irritation creeps into her tone and Vivian doesn’t blame her. Thirty women, three crews, all sitting uncomfortably as their CO says in so many words what it meant for them, specifically, to fail. There was already the doubt in the air that they’d actually see combat, that they’d be doing much of anything besides practice flights over the states. If they weren’t already aware of the uncertainty of their situation — their CO had a specific fascination with reminding them that at any moment this could all get shut down and they’d be sent packing.

“It’s not gonna be us, that’s all I care about,” Vivian shrugs, candid. “Put us in the lead and I bet everyone and their mother would’ve made it to California.”

“Would’ve made it all the way to Hitler’s house.”

“Careful Willie, you’re turning optimistic on me,” At that, Willie smiles, hidden behind the neck of her beer bottle, shoulders shaking in a small laugh as she shakes her head. Rarely did they ever talk like this, rarely were they ever allotted the space to do so. It had to be confined to the walls of their fort — girls whispering secret praises for doing things that the boys did. God forbid they were anything but gracious for the opportunity given to them.

They could embrace these few hours of smugness before reality would sink back in and sour it. Although, after this, Vivian wasn’t sure if she planned on being quiet and humble immediately thereafter. Let them be embarrassed. No sweat off my back. Willie just barely knocks Vivian’s ankle with her foot, then shrugs.

“Is it really optimism? How’re they gonna find England if they can’t find California?” The question hangs heavy in the air, but something about Willie’s face, the way she avoids Vivian’s gaze, has Vivian’s mouth curling into a grin. She’s leaning over the table slightly.

“You know something.” Willie’s brows furrow.

“I do not.”

“Yeah you do. It’s all over your face. Oughta wash it sometime soon.”

“You’re not funny,” Willie narrows her eyes and Vivian’s grin becomes wider. They hold each other’s stare for a few long, silent, seconds, and then Willie looks away once more, sighing in a quiet, bewildered surrender. “Eckley says that Crosby gets pretty bad motion sickness so I’m just thinking about… things like that. Little things. How many crews actually messed up ‘cause of small things or stuff they can’t help,” she shrugs, looking down at the table. “It just…it could’ve been us, y’know? In Vegas.”

“Think we could sort it out before it becomes a problem in the air,” Vivian assures, “if not me or you, then one of the eight other people with us. You better not be getting cold feet on me now,” Trying to weave her reassurance neatly with the joke seems to work, if only a little bit. Willie scoffs and knocks Vivian’s ankle with her foot once again.

“Takes two to fly to Hitler’s house.”

“Exactly,” Vivian affirms with a nod, tilting the neck of the beer bottle towards Willie, who looks at it questioningly. “Call me a bad teammate but I’m gonna enjoy this tonight. Let them figure out what they’re gonna do with their guys who can’t find California. ‘Cause it’s not gonna be our crew and it’s not gonna be us.” Willie nods, clinking the neck of her beer with Vivian’s and then taking a drink.

“Now who’s turning optimistic?”

“Well I’m always optimistic. You’re the one switching things up.” Willie opens her mouth to fire back, but the door opens and her gaze falls on whoever just walked in.

“Why is it so quiet? Someone put on a record — you guys got Goodman?” Willie looks back at Vivian with a wholly bewildered expression — and mouths one phrase as the Officer’s Club seems to fall back into the bustling behavior it was so accustomed to: Guess Egan made it.

[awkwardtickleetoo]

Lee!George Summer Days 4/5 - Ship Day/Worst Spot

hellooooo party peopleeeeee my apologies this intro is going to be much shorter than usual bc i have a huge migraine so sorry to the enjoyers of my usual yapping ill be back soon

this fic is a combination of days 4 and 5 of @wishitweresummer ‘s lee!george summer event!!! make sure you check out this post and this tag for more info and fics from the event :)

these two days are ship day and worst spot, so what better than some good ol fashioned romantic snf and thigh tickles :D

hope everyone enjoys!!

lee!george, ler!sapnap, 2.3k words

--

George breathed in through his nose, glancing around at the sparsely occupied seats in the movie room, illuminated by the light of the big screen. He let out the breath through his mouth, his shoulders relaxing against the back of the reclined chair as Sapnap slipped an arm around them. He let himself settle into his boyfriend’s arms, drawing his attention back to the movie as Sapnap’s fingers trailed thoughtlessly up and down his arm over his hoodie– the one that he had definitely not stolen from him.

He stayed in that position, his head falling to rest against Sapnap’s, his eyes growing heavy at the warmth and comfort coursing through his veins, until he saw a beam of light from the hallway and heard the door to the movie room swing open. Then, he flinched, picking his head up and sitting up straight, pulling one leg up to rest his foot on the chair and wrap his arms around his shin, his body tense again.

When it was just Dream who walked through, shooting George a soft smile as their eyes met and he ducked down to return to his seat, George let out a defeated sigh and slumped back against the chair, still tense and mostly unmoving, other than crossing his arms over his chest and pouting.

“Georgie, baby,” Sapnap whispered, voice low as he dipped his head down to speak near George’s ear. “You don’t have to be nervous. No one cares if we cuddle during a movie,” Sapnap tried to reassure, pressing a soft kiss to George’s temple and squeezing his shoulder. His other hand reached out to rest on George’s knee, the one bent up in between them, and he heard George sigh again, slower this time, as he nodded in agreement.

It was no longer a secret that Sapnap and George were dating. Obviously, Dream had already known for quite a while, as they were both on the same page very early on that it wasn’t something they wanted to keep from him.

Of course, Dream had been incredibly supportive, offering them both hugs and kisses on the cheek as he promised that nothing between them would ever change, they were the Dream Team, forever. They had gone out to dinner that night to celebrate– Sapnap’s treat, no matter how many times Dream and George both argued– and Dream had asked all the reasonable questions. How long they’d known their feelings, how long they’d been together, who spilled first, if they were going to be doing “stupid gross romantic shit” everywhere now, if he’d have to prepare before entering one of their rooms because “god knows what you two could get up to on the other end of the house”, but other than that evening and a few small adjustments, everything stayed exactly as it was.

Then came the harder part… telling everyone who wasn’t Dream.

So, they decided to host a movie night, inviting all their close friends, ordering way too many pizzas and putting out way too many snacks for the group they had, and dropping the news before starting the movie. Everyone had been supportive as well, coming up to give hugs and kind words and small teases– like Sam ruffling George’s hair and making a comment about how their MCC ritual wasn’t a joke after all, making him blush and shove him away, only to have his cheek pinched and a coo of ‘aww, cutie’ follow after– before settling into the theater seats and turning down the lights.

Despite the nerves, it went as smoothly as they expected, and they were now able to be as affectionate as they wanted without having to worry about anyone seeing.

Well, almost.

“I know. I really do. I don’t–“ George complained in the same hushed voice, shifting in his seat, letting Sapnap pull him closer and rest their head together again. “I don’t know why I’m so freaked out, I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Sapnap whispered, taking one of George’s hands from where it anxiously held his own arm and bringing it up to his lips, kissing the back of his knuckles softly. “Hey. It’s okay,” He continued, repeating the motion twice more, and George looked over at him with soft eyes and a smile, turning his hand to cup Sapnap’s cheek in his palm, turning him to face him. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I know this kind of thing is scary for you,” Sapnap confirmed, earning a nod from George, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as his pout grew.

Even though the cat was out of the bag, George was still a little apprehensive. It wasn’t that he was afraid of anyone judging them, or afraid of anyone saying or thinking something negative, not at all! He knew everyone there was happy for them, he was just…

Shy, he thinks, is the best way to put it.

It’s not that he didn’t want the affection, contrary to popular belief, it just always made him nervous to be physical in front of other people. In private, especially with Sapnap and Dream, he would initiate it himself more often than he would ever admit, crowding himself into their personal space and clinging onto them with a smug smile. But around others, physical affection always made butterflies form in his tummy and his hands tremble with uncertainty. Since dating Sapnap, though, it had slowly been getting easier, and he was always there to help him through it, a fact he was very grateful for.

“Thank you,” George whispered, and Sapnap smiled and leaned in, kissing the corner of George’s mouth quickly and squeezing his shoulder again.

“‘Course. C’mere.” Sapnap pulled on George’s leg, motioning for him to move closer, and George glanced around once more to see everyone else paying attention to the movie– which, of course they were, he cursed himself internally, they’re sitting in the back row in the corner and obviously no one’s looking at them right now, he’s being paranoid– before allowing Sapnap to maneuver him closer. He turned him slightly, tapping George’s other leg to get him to lift it up, then resting them both over his lap and onto the arm of the empty chair next to them. George shifted himself along with Sapnap, making himself comfortable before leaning back against the chair and letting Sapnap recline it back a little further so they’d both be comfortable and relaxed. “There we go. S’that better, cutie?”

“Mhmm,” George hummed quietly, his eyes closing as he let himself finally settle in. Sapnap hummed back, his hands finding their usual home on George’s thighs, one resting on his knee and the other sliding up and down his thighs over his sweatpants.

He continued to let his hands roam as the movie continued, not thinking much of his movements, his fingers occasionally squeezing and holding George’s thigh tighter, movements slow but strong hands offering a gentle pressure that made George relax even more. His other hand eventually joined in, following along as he continued the movements over each thigh, grateful that the motion that he was using for his own comfort and calmness was helping George feel the same way. Eventually, both hands shifted to one leg, George instinctively pulling that leg closer so Sapnap could grip it easier, half asleep where he sat as Sapnap massaged his thigh between his hands.

Until Sapnap decided to be a little mischievous. He shifted his hands down towards George’s knee, keeping his movements slow so he didn’t alert George of his plan, and then he was able to press his fingers in behind George’s knee instead. George flinched, barely noticeable, and his leg curled up the tiniest bit further as a smile played at his lips. Sapnap smiled too, glancing over at him before continuing, one hand sliding down to cup the back of his leg behind his knee and the other cupping just above it. He felt George tense at the feeling, his eyelids fluttering as he woke up a bit more, and Sapnap decided that was the perfect time to scratch his nails unbearably lightly right behind George’s knee.

George let out a small gasp, biting his bottom lip as his eyes fully opened now, sleepily looking at Sapnap’s hands and trying to blink through the darkness to see what he was doing. His toes flexed and curled at the feeling, and he pulled his leg up higher, but unfortunately this only gave Sapnap more room to scratch behind his knee, his other hand jumping to life and squeezing just above it, making him flinch and bite his lip even harder to keep himself contained, a wobbly smile on his face.

“What?” Sapnap whispered, making George shake his head and bring a hand up to cover his mouth. Sapnap paused his movements, allowing George to catch his breath, glancing around to make sure no one had caught on to their antics yet.

When he was met with absolutely no attention on them, he smirked and continued, grabbing George’s legs and pulling them closer, letting George readjust his position to sit further against the arm of the chair and bend his knees up so his socked feet rested on the other arm, heels between the two chairs so he could have something to hold him up.

“Comfy?” Sapnap asked, crossing his own ankles where they were propped up on the reclined footrest, earning a shy nod from George. “Good.” He refused to make eye contact, but Sapnap was used to that, knowing very well that George would never look him in the eyes if he was embarrassed like that– especially if there was tickling involved.

Sapnap continued, resting his hand on George’s knee and pulling it close to himself, subtly keeping it pinned against his chest with his forearm curled around it, before trailing his fingers lightly up and down his inner thigh. George gasped, pressing his hand tight over his mouth and gripping the fabric of the chair with the other. He squirmed, struggling to control his movements and not make any noise, as Sapnap’s fingers began moving quicker, more firm, more determined. He let out a quiet whimper, losing strength in his arm and shifting again, now throwing both hands over his mouth.

“You’re so fucking cute like this,” Sapnap commented, voice genuine, and George squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as much as he could. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Sapnap’s shoulder as his leg jumped and flinched in his hold, his free leg bouncing against the chair from the anxious movement of his ankle.

“S-Sahapnahahap–“ George struggled to say while still whispering, burying his face into the crook of Sapnap’s neck and grabbing onto his hoodie for stability.

“Aw, baby,” Sapnap cooed, earning a muffled squeak, and he paused his fingers again to let George calm his breathing once more. He did just that, breathing heavily against Sapnap’s shoulder, his body going limp and letting Sapnap pull him even closer. He ended up with his arms around Sapnap’s neck, still hidden, and Sapnap pulled his legs even closer so he was almost fully on his lap now. “You okay?” He whispered, making sure no one could hear him at all. George nodded in response, his breathing back to normal. “Just ticklish?” He asked, closer to George’s ear, making him giggle breathlessly and squirm as he nodded again. “Good,” Sapnap teased, deciding he wanted to try one final thing before letting George actually relax, and he began scratching his fingers up and down the backs of George’s thighs.

“Ah–!” George squeaked and gasped, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut, his arms tightening around Sapnap’s neck as he burrowed further into his shoulder. His legs shook from the feeling, trying desperately to escape it, and he held his breath when he realized there was no way he would be able to keep his laughter in if Sapnap continued. “Sap– Sahapnahahap, stohop– I cahan’t–“ He whispered helplessly, shaking his head, and he thanked every God he could think of that Sapnap decided to be kind to him that night.

“Okay, okay, baby, I’m done,” He said, rubbing his palms up and down his thighs soothingly again, shooing away the ghost tickles for him. “You’re okay, we’re done.” George let out a grateful sigh, relaxing again in his arms, pulling away from his hiding place and resting his temple against Sapnap’s shoulder instead. It was almost shocking how quickly he was able to relax back into Sapnap’s touch, his hands firm and comforting again as he rested sleepily against him. Sapnap smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of his boyfriend’s head. “You alright?”

“Mhm,” George mumbled, cuddling closer to Sapnap and smiling. He looked up at him, puckering his lips so Sapnap would get the hint to kiss him there as well, before he settled back down and tuned back into the movie, falling in and out of sleep as the night went on.

In all honesty, George wouldn’t have changed a single thing about that night. He got to spend time with friends, he could finally be as open as he wanted to with Sapnap, and he knew that everything would be just as perfect moving forward. Nothing could bring him down.

That is, until he got a text from Dream the next morning, with a picture of him himself buried into Sapnap’s shoulder and Sapnap’s hand covering the middle of his inner thigh, followed by a message that read, “just be glad i was the only one in the back row with you, i can’t imagine the shit sam gia and sylvee would’ve said to you if they saw you two like this <3”, and made his cheeks turn more red than they had been during that photo.

Okay, maybe things would be a little bit different.

Especially after Dream sent the same photo to their group chat.

[didntyoubelieveinme]

not to bring my little kpop guys onto this blog but i wanted to talk about some very interesting parallels i noticed when i saw this concept image for taemins guilty album.

ive already talked about my thoughts on the original scene in velvet goldmine in a previous post so i’ll start with the guilty photo. guilty has one of the most interesting concepts i’ve come across within kpop in like… forever. guilty is inspired by “erotism: death and sensuality” by the french philosopher georges bataille, both the album and the book exploring the idea of complex human emotions regarding sexuality, self-expression, as well as the taboo and societal view. there can be pages written about the entire album and storyline following the culprit and the victim, as well as the extended religious themes and well… guilt. i’d like to focus my attention more on the specific photo however and how, in my eyes, guilty parallels velvet goldmine so perfectly without even intending to.

the guilty photoshoot is meant to represent the viewer or “the culprit” as intruding, looking through curtains you’re never meant to look through. it’s voyeuristic in a sense, meant to leave you with the idea that he never escapes the watchful eye of others. the original scene in velvet goldmine focuses on brian and curt’s relationship and how they keep it hidden from the public. velvet goldmine is a movie for fans, by fans, and about fans—they deliberately keep these moments hidden behind a façade that you only see through by a stroke of fate.

curt and brian have their entire relationship publicized and capitalized upon, mostly encouraged by jerry devine. it was something born from genuine admiration before brian fell too far into the fame. throughout the movie their relationship is filmed from the same perspective as everyone else around them saw it, messy and falling apart. you’re not led to believe it was anything else until there’s those small flashing of something more.

after their official breakup, curt sighs in the car and just for a couple seconds you get the reveal of their getaway together. that in a moment where they knew no one was watching them, they still held each other close. but they weren’t alone—the viewer watches behind the curtains as they see what could be interpreted in a million different ways. the two could be expressing genuine love but you never know bcs you’re not supposed to know. it was a moment shared between curt and brian and only for them to understand. that they could just be themselves away from the world.

it’s similar to guilty, although it contrasts in the fact that taemin is alone. while velvet goldmine is fictional, it still expresses the same concept that many celebrities have faced and still face today that they are always on camera. guilty goes farther into the psychological stress and torment of taemin’s character, being controlled, manipulated, and influenced by this “culprit” figure. this is all the deeper themes behind the surface level analysis behind the image that is him being watched. the image seems to be set after he’s escaped from the manipulation and experimentation of before, showing that even though he “escaped” he’s haunted by the idea of “the culprit.” the music video even ending with him returning to burn down the original source of this trauma to end it all.

some could equate this to how brian sabotaged his own career to leave it behind and start a new one. one where he wasn’t “brian slade” or “maxwell demon.”

however while the actions of taemin’s character are freeing for himself and others, brian’s lie in a more selfish reasoning—watching the people around him fall apart due to his actions. maybe that’s where the similarities end. this is all probably a bigger analysis than i want to get into right now.

honestly i’m just yapping right now and i’m not sure if anyone else but me will care about this lmaoo. i just found the comparisons interesting considering the concept and themes behind both pieces of media. i’m assuming taemin has never actually seen velvet goldmine (though we never know 🤷‍♂️) so i find it beautiful how art can replicate itself in the most purest forms of genuine expression.