#✧ — ⋆ interactions | george | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shaylogic · 8 months ago

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Messy Masterpost: I don't have the words so here's a mess of links and ideas

@captainfantasticalright's Dead Boy Detectives: a breakdown of Dante's hell. This post is a masterpiece of understanding how the Hell/afterlife dynamics work in Sandman Universe and DBDA, and it's sent my mind buzzing like crazy

My post about Simon's book

Not just any book

Theory about Simon's brother/father? Being a part of Burgess' Cult ("Order of Ancient Mysteries")

Thank you @niko-sasaki-dbd

Ba'al ==> Sa'al

Seems like Simon may have gotten a demon-summoning book that worked from his brother who may have been involved on Burgess' cult from Sandman. He died with book in hand, and that's the one he's tearing apart on repeat in Hell. Tumblr user listed above identified what the book might be, based off the image.

This interview at 12:52 George Rexstrew answering that Edwin's favorite thing about Charles is his unconditional love and acceptance of him.

Post about Charles bearing his soul to the Night Nurse like Orpheus played music to Cerberus

Interviewer talking about "straight friend" Charles "rejecting" gay Edwin, only for George, Jayden, Beth, and Steve to stiffen up slightly. Asking about how Charles didn't have a gay panic reaction to Edwin's confession. This interviewer is actually gay and interviewed on a gay network later, which threw me after this question.

=>If Charles had really gay panic rejected Edwin, it really would have ended like Eurydice, thrust back to the pit of Hell to wallow in the internalized homophobia, rather than being released with the support and healthy love of Charles.

Actors have reiterated multiple times that the case is not closed on Edwin and Charles' romance, they're just getting started and figuring it out in the midst of all the chaos.

People are stuck in Hell because they believe they belong there but Edwin gets out the second time because Charles KNOWS he doesn't belong there! And reminds Edwin of this when he's getting pulled under in it all

Charles went back to his red polo after the confession and escaping Hell with @nerdytacollama's excellent addition on episode 7 specifically!!

Edwin's whole arc was about accepting loving and being loved and his attraction to men, and his love of his best friend, specifically

Steve Yockey saying the confession NEEDED to happen on the stairs out of Hell. One reason being that Edwin may have been too afraid to go through with it after, another being that he could get dragged away forever at any second and it could be his last chance.

[above article pic quote from this]

But also based on the Hell worldbuilding of the Sandman Universe where people only go to hell if they believe in it and believe they deserve to be there > Edwin believing his want for intimacy at all letalone with other men being "such a sinful life" (Night Nurse paperwork) > the upward climb of healthy love from the Dante's Inferno Post > Edwin HAD to confess on the stairs and be accepted! It freed him of Hell~!

Simon moved on from Hell with Edwin's mutual sorrow for the two of them and somewhat understanding/forgiveness? Maybe self-acceptance from the gay guilt

Edwin's form saying he would serve in Hell for living such a sinful life and then be reassigned to a more pleasant state (Hell not an eternal afterlife, just time served and then moving one)

[image posted in @reviewcreature's post with @melefim's addition]

If Edwin went back now, loved and accepted by his friends and himself, would he pass on to the better place?

My post wondering about reincarnation in the Sandman Universe, which others weighed in on in the comments about how it's indeed canon

The parallels of the Lust room in hell being a butcher shop with bloody hanging bodies to reflect the debauchery of bloody writhing lust bodies ===> compare to "Girls' Night" when Jenny was running and hiding from stalker Maxine in her butcher shop behind meat ===> compare Edwin's arc of accepting "sodomite sin" of being attracted to men (challenge to the epitome and catalyst (ha) by the Cat King) and him having been through the Lust room of hell before and him STARING AT THE RED BULL ON THE BUTCHER SHOP WALL (as compared to directly in the first linked post)

The purity of Charles and Edwin's love compared to that and the stereotypes of how male love is depicted in media, as George, Steve, and Jayden have spoken out against gently in multiple interviews

How it's partially childlike, partially deep friendship where two men can hug and cry, partially a crush, partially potentially reciprocally romantic

The juxtaposition of Edwin's archetypical confession to Charles on the stairs of Hell on the way out of the Limbo of it, with Maxine guilty and desperate just below them, not even looking toward the open door

Fans wondering why it was so easy to get out of Hell. The worldbuilding canon saying that Hell is what you make of it (Charles says this in the original Season of Mists Ch 4 comic, Edwin says it in episode 7 to Simon). People in Hell stuck because they feel they deserve it.

@podcastenthusiast's post about being glad Edwin didn't see Simon move on, because then he'd really wonder we he himself suffered so long

==>CHARLES got Edwin out because he KNEW he didn't belong there!!!!

They push and pull each other by the arms the whole way to the top!!!!!!!

Magical weight in the snake pit "nothing's meant to leave this place"

Charles literally dragging Edwin out of Hell for the love and devotion to him!!!!!!!!!!!!

Allegory of dragging him out of his self-rejection and holding him by the face saying over and over "I love you. I accept you. I'm not leaving without you."

Openly gay producer/director Steve Yockey insisting on being the one to write Episode 7 and you can feel it in every color on the screen.

There's no higher power deciding this, despite the paperwork and minders ensuring everyone is sorted. It's an internal self-decided fate, unconscious.

I'm not gonna be able to link and list every pic and organize this in the state I'm in but--

ARE YOU SEEING ALL THE THINGS I'M SEEING?

Girl help I'm getting visions!!!!!!!!!!!!

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abiiors · 11 months ago

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one for the road // george daniel x reader

a/n: the idea belongs to my sweet friend ace @ughgoaway and i'm just bringing it to life but JFC GEORGE'S HANDS HAVE BEEN THE ONLY THING ON MY MIND SINCE BOILER ROOM (side note but it took me sooooo long to think of a title until one for the road by am came up on shuffle) cw: semi-public, fingering, edging, slightly dom/sub?? like it's kinda hinted but that's it, the writer’s hand kink is very obvious in this one wc: 2.6k

l.a. traffic is the bane of your existence. everything crawls at a glacial pace, there are a million and one red lights and every once in a while someone tries to honk or zoom past as if that would magically clear the road for them. you try to play some music and even that keeps getting interrupted by the two calls george has gotten so far.

you’re frustrated beyond belief and so is he, judging by his tight grip on the steering wheel and his clenched jaw.

“george!” you whine. it’s childish and immature, and yet you can’t help it. it’s not even ten a.m. and everything is already hellish.

“i know, baby,” he speaks in a low voice, navigating yet more traffic. by some miracle, the car in front of you speeds, opening up space for you to cross the green light. george perks up, about to floor it when someone cuts in from behind, and gets stuck right in front of you. just in time for the light to turn red.

george slaps the steering wheel, letting out a few choice curse words, you groan into your hands, about to curse some more when his hand lands on your thigh.

it’s innocent enough—something he’s done countless times. it’s almost a permanent resting spot for his hands when you’re driving anyway, but the rough pads of his fingers scratch against your thigh. his rings glint in the sunlight, and you stare at his hands, completely forgetting about the frustration from just a minute ago.

the red light lasts far longer than it should, longer than it has any right to. but in the end you move again, and george’s hand goes back to the steering wheel. instantly, you miss the warmth of it, the friction of his fingers against the smooth skin of your thigh. you fidget with the hem of your short, short skirt, wishing your fingers felt the same. they don’t, not even close.

“fuckin’ hell,” george curses quietly, voice gravelly. his fingers drum on the leather, and a deep groan echoes around the car, making your mind go to all the places it really shouldn’t.

you sneak another look at him, at the way he dwarfs the car seat. his long legs are almost stretched out in front of him, spread wide. your mind wanders to all the times you've sat between them, pleasing him for hours, being a good girl and keeping him warm.

“you’ve gone quiet,” he speaks suddenly and places his hand back on your thigh. it almost makes you jump but you see right in front of you, at another red light and then at his hand on your thigh, at the veins littering it.

“‘m fine!” you squeak, voice weirdly high-pitched.

“you’re annoyed, aren’t you,” he tuts. “‘m so sorry, baby.” he does sound genuinely sorry, stroking your thigh with a gesture that he thinks is comforting.

for you, however, it only makes everything worse.

george draws small circle on your skin, round and round and absentminded as he waits for the car in front of you to start moving. he doesn’t know how strongly you’re trying not to rub your thighs together. he doesn’t know the kind of buzz filling your head, each time his hand inches higher or inward.

“n-no,” you choke out, trying to sound as normal as possible. you’re completely fine! you’re not about to soak through your underwear and onto the rich leather seats. “traffic’s normal.”

the last bit catches his attention but before he can say anything, the light turns green and george removes his hand once again. you scrunch your eyes shut, embarrassed at breathy your voice sounded just now. how girlish and needy.

but the sunlight makes his rings glint again and your mouth goes dry.

oh to feel them against your cunt… your ass…

oh to feel the cold metal on your lips while he shuts you up by shoving his fingers in your mouth.

“baby? you alright?” he tries to sneak a quick glance at you while also keeping an eye on the road. “shit, you’re not carsick, are you?”

sick. yes. that would be one word to describe you—sick in the head for wanting him to use his fingers right now, so publicly in the middle of a busy l.a. highway. right here where anyone can peep in.

he sneaks another glance at you, a bit longer this time with his brows furrowed and lips pressed in a straight line, and places his hand on your leg again. deliberate.

“bab—”

“george!” a whine slips out of you, and you can’t help but cross your legs this time, effectively trapping his hand between them. his fingers are so fucking close to your cunt, so…

“oh,” he breathes out and you feel his fingers move. it’s a swipe against the inside of your thigh, so fucking high up that he might as well be touching you now. no, scratch that. he is touching you now as his finger softly brushes over your clothed cunt. you hiss through your teeth, already sensitive.

“what have you been thinking about, hmm?” your eyes linger on his hand still, half of it disappearing under your skirt. his fingers move deftly, still swiping against your pussy, on the insides of your thigh. “you’re drenched…”

the breath whooshes out of your lungs once the red light hits and george slides the underwear aside.

“yeah?”

“please…” you all but beg, spreading your legs just a bit wider so his hand can fit better. slowly, leisurely, his fingers move through your folds, parting them and making you moan softly each time he brushes against your clit.

the red light even allows him to look at you, but you’re far too gone to care what he sees—your eyes half shut, mouth parted and slack, parting further when his thumb presses against your lit. the cold metal of the ring brushes against warm skin, sending a shiver down your back, and you but thrust up.

“can you–can you go faster?”

“my dirty girl,” he tsks, “you think i’m gonna get you off here? where anyone can see you?”

right. the people. not that you can be blamed for it, the outside world is the last thing on your mind.

“we aren’t in a rush, are we?” his voice takes a low, mocking quality. it’s so unfair that he should know you this well. that he should know how desperate you are for a release. he isn’t in a rush only because you are. a minute more of this teasing, and you might just lose your mind.

“i’ll be—”

a horn cuts you off and his eyes snap to the road, where the light, much to your frustration, has turned green once again. within moments george pulls his hand away, fingers just about coated with slick and places it back on the steering wheel.

“no, no—”

“patience, baby…” he uses the voice he always does when he wants you to obey. it’s the voice that rings around in your head. “i’ll get back to you if you sit patiently.”

and just like that his attention is back to the road again. you huff, aching all over and trying not to replace his hand with yours. it won’t end well for you, if you did that. your thighs feel sticky and the leather of the seat rubs against your skin all wrong. everything is all wrong. craning your neck a little you try to see where the next red light is—suddenly that’s all you crave. suddenly your pulse spikes when you see a light turn green.

but the traffic takes care of the rest, and george’s fingers are back at your cunt the moment the car comes to a standstill.

“you’ll be good for me, won’t you?” he asks sweetly, pressing his thumb against your clit just hard enough that you lurch off your seat, squeezing your legs shut again. this is where his hand belongs, this is where it should stay.

“i’ll be good, i’ll be so… so g-good.” the words get harder the more he touches and teases, drawing a lazy eight around your clit and dipping his fingers in and out, never deep enough though. he always pulls them out just before, keeps you right on your toes. in turn, your fingers curl, long nails digging into the leather until it leaves half-moon shaped marks behind.

if this keeps going, you might just tear through them…

“just a bit m-more… please, george,” you try begging again, not that it worked for you the first time but george relents just a little and pushes his fingers deeper. desperately you clench around him, whimpering and whining and pushing your hips up to take more of him. a second later, he wrenches his hand away, leaving you cold and empty.

tears of frustration brim on your lash line. you were so close, so close to feeling good, feeling floaty. the seat is soaked with your arousal now, and your fingers dig into the seat tight enough to leave your knuckles while. your heart hammers in your throat, head dizzy and swimming with thoughts of only his hands—his hands around your throat, choking the breath out of you. his hands on your ass, squeezing and kneading the skin, hands gripping your hips, your thighs tightly. leaving bruises.

“shh, baby… you’re doing so well,” his gravelly voice interrupts the train of thoughts and you realise you’ve been squirming and moaning, trying to find at least a little friction from the seat but it’s utterly useless. “you’ll wait till the next red light, won’t you? my good girl.”

“your good girl,” you nod fervently, eager to prove how much you deserve his fingers, how much you deserve an orgasm. george looks at you quickly, smiling in a way that makes his face look sharp and smug and goes back to driving. if it weren’t for the bulge in his jeans, you would have been convinced that this doesn’t affect him at all.

you almost close your eyes, swallowing harshly to get rid of the tears clogging your throat. you almost even manage to calm yourself down just a smidge, when the car stops again. this time, you barely get a moment’s notice before fingers thrust inside you, deep. all the way in, hitting the sweet spot. your back arches all the way off the seat and you cry out his name. you gulp in large breaths, trying not to pass out at the sudden onslaught of pleasure.

it’s like he’s turned the dial up from zero to one hundred, pumping his fingers in and out of you, thumb pressed against your clit. his body is twisted to look at you, lips hovering so close to the shell of your ear. once or twice he even nips the soft skin, earning himself yet another cry.

“yes, yes, that’s it… that’s…”

“yeah? that’s it? am i doing good, baby?”

he is, he knows he is. you feel like you’re on cloud nine, completely forgetting about the other cars outside along with the heat and traffic and every other thing that frustrated you not even an hour ago. the only frustration you know is the frustration of not getting to cum.

“words, sweet girl,” he taunts, “am i doing good?”

“so good… so good…”

george tsks. “but what if i’m not done with you yet, hmm?”

you can almost hear the pout in his voice, the undercurrent of smugness, and this time you see it coming before he pulls away.

“no no no nooo, george!” it’s the most frustrated you’ve ever been, shaking and crying, edged over and over again, and at his mercy. every time he pulls away it’s like your body’s doused with ice cold water, each time more tears fall down your cheeks. your mascara must be a mess by now, lipstick smudged by how much you’ve bit your lips.

“you’re mean,” you pout at him and george laughs. he actually laughs!

“do you want me to stop th—”

“no!” you cry out, scared that he’d really stop. scared that you’d have to sit here in a limbo, aching so desperately between your legs and not being able to do anything about it. but at the next red light, george takes mercy on you.

his fingers hover right over your clit, flicking it swiftly before they’re inside you again. the metal of his rings stings against your skin, digging into the sensitive skin. if anything, the mix of pain and pleasure is all the more heedy, dizzying. your head falls back, back still arched off the seat until your hips are moving of their own accord, rutting and grinding against his hand, riding his fingers. you try to match his pace.

it’s too much, too much, too much.

“pretty baby,” he coos, “look so good riding my fingers, look so good when you’re desperate for me like this.”

desperate is exactly what you are. you finally place your hand over his, pushing his thick fingers deepers. to your surprise, george even lets you. the rough calluses provide just the right amount of friction. his name is the only thing you can chant over and over again, moaning to the rhythm of his fingers.

“please, please, wanna cum. please george…”

you know the light's about to turn green, you don’t have much time. you know if he denies you again, you might just lose whatever hold you have on your sanity. george places a kiss on your jaw, lips warm against your skin, his stubble almost scratchy. then his mouth hovers right above your ear.

“since you asked so sweetly…”

your entire body tenses at his words, pussy clenching around his fingers so hard until your can practically feel the rings inside you. pleasure swims through your whole body and your vision turns white. the next thing you feel is something wet and sticky sliding under your ass, coating his hands and george continues to finger you.

your legs shake and tremble with the force of the orgasm, stars flare in front of your closed eyelids and you grip onto his hand, keeping it buried deep between your legs, riding it until the dizzying waves of pleasure subside. grinding on it until you can finally slow down and open your eyes again.

two seconds later, the light turns green again and he has no choice but to pull away. his fingers leave a trail of your release on the steering wheel.

“can i clean you up?” you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him even though he’s trying to focus on the road. doesn’t matter though, his hands look just as delicious as before and you can’t help but stick his fingers in your mouth, suck on them, swirling your tongue around the digits until all you can taste is your release. the salty taste of it sits on your tongue and you pushing his fingers in deeping, almost gagging around them, till your lips touch the cold rings.

“fuck,” george curses under his breath when you let go of them and swerves the car, taking the exit he’s just seen.

“what are you doing?”

“going to find a hotel for us, sweet girl.” he mumbles, shifting in the seat, trying to adjust his very obvious bulge. “haven’t gotten enough of you just yet.”

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#no i'm not writing a pt 2 sorry. they fuck. you can imagine 🤭#the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #george daniel smut #minors do not interact #the 1975 fanfic #george daniel fanfic

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