#chain reaction 1996

[filmjunky2-99]

c h a i n r e a c t i o n, 1996 🎬 dir. Andrew Davis

#film #sci fi #thriller #chain reaction #Chain Reaction 1996 #andrew davis #keanu reeves #morgan freeman #rachel weisz

[filmjunky-99]

c h a i n r e a c t i o n, 1996 🎬 dir. andrew davis

#film #action thriller #chain reaction #chain reaction 1996 #andrew davis #keanu reeves #morgan freeman #rachel weisz

[cappedinamber]

Chain Reaction (1996)

Directed by Andrew Davis

Cinematography by Frank Tidy

#it was exactly what i needed it to be and i did not need it to be good #chain reaction #andrew davis #frank tidy #1996

[dj-bouto]

LBA K7 [122-A] feat. Basic Channel, Porter Ricks, Dj Pete, Steve Bicknel...

Recorded live @ Chez Fabienne & GiGi, Montbéliard, Fr / 1996.

Flying via phasing technique : the sync'ing is obtained by moving the pitch-control of our MK2 turntables and the game consists in mixing long uptempo voodoo-techno traxes without touching the vinyl's. Doing it that way needs great focus & self-insurance but opens unexpected areas…

Keywords : Basic Channel / Octagon / Porter Ricks / Chain Reaction / Dj Pete / Dj HMC / Steve Bicknell / Cosmic Recordings

#basic channel #octagon #porter ricks #chain reaction #dj pete #steve bicknell #cosmic recordings #voodoo #loops #1996

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

Summary: After moving to Hawkins to take care of your ailing grandma, you end up spending a wild night with Corroded Coffin's lead singer, Eddie Munson. When you uncover his true intentions, you have no desire to ever see him again, but fate--and his son, Harris--has other plans.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fingering (f! receiving), oral (m!receiving), slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n

WC: 7.5k

Chapter 1/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

Late August, 1996. 

July had come and gone so quickly, and you could sense it in the muggy air as the daylight dwindled away on the horizon of an orange colored sky. Your heels click along the parking lot pavement as you make your way into the dingy bar. Everyone told you that your twenties would be full of surprises, but no one warned you that those twists and turns would land you in Hawkins, Indiana. 

The neon sign reads The Hideout; well, really, it reads Th H deo t, and the “o” is starting to flicker. You’re not the only one who notices the building’s crumbling exterior. 

“Huh,” Jess says, crossing her arms over her chest. “This place seemed a lot cooler when I was in high school.” Still, she pushes open the door, where you’re immediately hit with the stench of cigarettes and beer. The floor is sticky with what you can only hope is spilled liquor, and you take a seat on a rickety barstool. 

“How did you even hear about this place?” you ask your new friend, tugging your dress so it covers a bit more of your thighs. You had one night out to yourself, and Jess was insistent on you making the most of it. 

“Used to come here all the time when I was, like, sixteen?” She wrinkles her nose. “They’re dirt cheap and they never card, so my friends and I used to get super wasted. Thought we were hot shit.” She flags down the bartender with a wave and a smile. “Anyway, you can’t live in Hawkins and not come to the Hideout at least once. It’s a tradition.”

The bartender, a woman who looks to be in her mid-forties, leans on the counter. “What can I get you ladies?” she asks. Her voice is raspy from what sounds like decades of chain smoking. 

You’re about to order a Bud Light, but Jess cuts you off. “We’ll each have a Hideout Special,” she says confidently. “Make hers a double.”

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me? And what the hell is a Hideout Special?”

She waves off your concern. “Honestly, I have no idea. But it’ll get you buzzed fast.”

You reluctantly agree, sipping on something that tastes vaguely like a mixture of rum and vodka, with the pungency of rubbing alcohol. “That’s awful,” you grimace, and Jess just laughs.

“Yeah, they’re pretty rough going down. But you only have one night to yourself, and you’re gonna make the most of it.” She links her arm through yours, using her free hand to tilt the drink back up to your lips. “Now, drink up. The band’s gonna start playing soon, and you’ll need all the liquor you can get. Trust me.”

Corroded Coffin, the band in question, is warming up in the back room. Tuesday nights   has been their slot since high school, and if their lead singer and guitarist has his way, it’ll be their slot until they’re too old to play. He’s tuning his ax, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration, only looking up when he hears a faint “oh, shit,” come from his bandmate.

“Y’good?” Eddie asks, strumming gently to play a perfect A-chord.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, holding up a small black box. “Forgot I had this in my pocket; almost dropped it when I took off my jacket.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “That’s what you get for wearing leather in fuckin’ August, dude.” He squints at the object in Jeff’s hand. “What is that, anyway?”

“A ring,” Jeff proudly announces. “I’m gonna ask Viv to marry me.” The big, goofy grin on his face makes Eddie’s stomach churn. He looks at Gareth and Danny, expecting similar disgusted reactions from them, but they’re both smiling, too. 

“Way to go, man!” Danny says, and Gareth claps Jeff on the back. “Our little Jeff is growing up.”

“Oh, fuck off, man,” Jeff says, but he’s laughing as he accepts the congratulations. He glances expectantly at Eddie, waiting for him to chime in. 

“You two’ve been together for a million years,” Gareth jokes, twirling a drumstick in his free hand. “What made you decide to take the plunge?”

Jeff’s eyes dart around the room. “Okay, I wasn’t supposed to say anything,” he starts, voice hushed, “but Viv’s pregnant!”

“Holy shit!” Danny sputters. “Dude, you’re gonna be a dad!”

“Yeah,” Jeff agrees incredulously. “Fuckin’ wild, isn’t it?” His gaze falls to Eddie. “Does the seasoned professional have any words of wisdom?”

An uncharacteristic silence fills the room. Eddie can feel their eyes burning a hole into his head. He knows what he should say, what Jeff wants to hear, but he can’t bring himself to feign happiness. “You don’t have to marry someone just because you knocked her up.” It comes out with a snarl, meaner than he’d intended. 

“Crazy thought, but have you considered that I actually want to marry her?” Jeff shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re not all content being miserable hermits like you are.”

“Whoa, break it up,” Gareth tries, stepping between the two guitarists, but the conversation’s already too heated. 

“I’m not miserable, and I’m not a hermit,” Eddie counters. “I’m just not about to limit myself when there’s plenty of pussy in the sea.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “Whatever, dude. Thanks for the well wishes.” Eddie can’t help but notice the flash of hurt in his eyes as he walks away. A small part of him feels bad, but he can’t shake the anxiety that unexpected change seems to bring.  

“So, what does this mean for Corroded Coffin?” he asks. “Should we consider this our farewell show?” He tries to ignore the irritated glares he’s getting from Gareth and Danny. It’s like the words fall from his mouth before his brain can process the damage they can do. 

“Obviously, once the baby comes, I’ll have to take a step back,” Jeff shrugs. “And I’m gonna try to work some overtime before it’s born. Save some extra money, y’know.” 

The room had been zapped of joy, and Eddie feeds off of the sullen atmosphere. “Nice commitment to the band,” he sneers. “Glad to see how easily your priorities change.”

“Yeah, man, you should try it sometime,” Jeff snaps. His fists clench, and he looks angry enough to throw a punch. “Maybe you’ll stop acting like an overgrown teenager.” 

Eddie’s about to fight back, jaw locked in place and eyes seeing red, but he’s temporarily grounded by the sound of the manager’s tired voice echoing from the ancient sound system.  

“Put your hands together for Corroded Coffin!” A smattering of applause signals their cue to enter. Eddie tries to shake off the conflict; it can be resolved after they play. The show must go on, or whatever it was that his high school drama teacher always said. 

A balding man with a gruff voice introduces the band as Corroded Coffin. Jess’s eyes go wide; she’s already a few Hideout Specials deep and definitely feeling it.

“Oh, shit!” she laughs with a hiccup. “That’s my sister’s boyfriend’s band!” She motions to the bartender to pour her another drink, but you shake your head and just mouth water. The bartender gives you a knowing nod, probably grateful that she won’t have to be the one dealing with Jess tonight.

“Yeah, that’s Jeff!” Jess continues, pointing at a tall guitarist with tight curls. “He’s the one who knocked up Viv!” She cackles like she just made the most hilarious joke. “I totally forgot they were playing tonight.” She frantically waves at him, and he gives a small head nod in acknowledgment.

Your eyes are drawn to someone else: the lanky, ring-clad man who takes center stage. He grips the mic with black polished nails, smirking out into the crowd as he yells, “Hawkins, how’re we doin’ tonight?” The loudest cheers come from Jess, and you join in, letting out an obnoxious “woooooo!” in response.

The noise draws his attention, and you watch as his smirk shifts to something needier, hungrier, even. His big brown eyes land on you and Jess, leaving you momentarily breathless. He’s absolutely gorgeous, light stubble on his cheeks and above his plush lips. He’s wearing a white V-neck that shows off a dusting of chest hair. His torn black jeans hang low on his hips, accentuated with a studded belt. A gleaming pair of silver handcuffs are clipped to one of the loops.

“All right!” he calls back. “Well, this first one goes out to the pretty girl in the blue dress at the bar. Wait for me after the show, Sweetheart.” He counts out to four, and they launch into a cover of Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me.

It doesn’t even register until Jess nudges you, more forcefully than necessary, and says, “Hey, you’re wearing a blue dress!”

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Who…who is he?” you ask, feeling a warmth spread through your core that you’re sure isn’t from the alcohol. 

“That,” Jess says, leaning on you for balance, “is Eddie Munson. Total freak back in high school, but now he’s just got a reputation for being a freak in the sheets.” She throws you a clumsy wink and adds, “looks like you’ll get to find out for yourself tonight.”

“I’m not really a one-night stand kind of person,” you counter, internally cringing at the memories of your feeble attempts at hooking up, all of which inevitably ended with you pining after them pathetically. 

Jess rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she whines, taking note of the way you and Eddie can’t seem to tear your gazes from each other. “Your dad leaves tomorrow, and then you’ll be spending your nights taking care of your grandma. You gotta live a little!”

Plopping back down onto the barstool, you consider her sentiment. It’s true; once your dad goes back home, you’ll be the one helping out in the evenings. And the new school year starts next week, leaving you with little time for yourself. 

Your whole life has been spent helping others. You became a teacher to shape young minds and provide them with a safe place to learn and express themselves. You moved to a tiny town in the middle of Indiana to look after your grandma. Even now, you’re babysitting Jess and ensuring she doesn’t dehydrate instead of letting loose and ordering another drink. 

“Fine, but only if he brings it up,” you concede. “I’m not gonna be the one to make the first move.”

The band moves on to their next song; it’s either an original or one you’re not familiar with, but you find yourself dancing to the beat. Jess joins you, writhing her body in some kind of drunken jig that has you cackling. You’re having such a great time that you don’t even notice Eddie tripping over a few chords as he watches you sway your hips back and forth. 

Corroded Coffin plays for another forty minutes. You recognize some Metallica and Black Sabbath songs, headbanging along until you’re dizzy. The bartender slides you another drink—on the house, she insists—and you sip it eagerly, trying to quell your nerves. Eddie shouts out, “thank you, Hawkins!” and disappears backstage with the rest of the band. 

You can’t ignore the dejected pain in your heart, but you muster up a smile and turn to Jess. “Ready to get out of here?”

She shakes her head, putting her palm on the bar to steady herself. “You still have to wait for Eddie,” she teases. “You promised.”

You cock your eyebrow in amusement. “First of all, Drunky McWasted, I didn’t promise anything,” you say, “and second, show’s over and, uh, he’s not here.” You swivel around for emphasis. 

“Give him a fucking second, would ya?” The comment doesn’t come from your friend, and you turn around to see Eddie standing behind you. He’s got a towel around the back of his neck, mopping up the sweat from his performance. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and you can see the remnants of kohl eyeliner smudged around his lash line. “Had to clean myself up a little bit, damn.” He smiles, and you feel like you’re going to melt. 

Jess interrupts, pushing you closer to him. “Eddie, this is my neighbor.” When you still don’t say anything, too awestruck to introduce yourself, she tells him your name. 

Eddie nods, letting his fingers graze yours. “What’d you think of the set?” He grins at the bartender, who gives a small head bob and hands him a whiskey, neat. 

“It was good,” you manage, finally finding your voice. “I especially liked the song you dedicated to the pretty girl in the blue dress.” There. You flirted. The rest is up to him.

“Yeah?” He rests his forearm on the bar and leans over to take his glass. “Was kinda hopin’ you would. Soon as I saw you, I knew I had to shoot my shot.” His eyes flit over the low-cut neckline of your dress before he drags his gaze back to your eyes. “You new to Hawkins?”

“Mhm,” you say, watching as he fumbles with a pack of Newports. “I moved here to take care of my grandma.” Good going. Nothing turns a guy on like talking about your elderly relatives.

But Eddie’s unfazed. “Hot and nice? A lethal combo, if I do say so myself.”

“What about you?” you blurt out. “I mean, have you always lived in Hawkins?”

He shrugs. “Been back and forth. Came here when I was nine, left when I was twenty-two, then came back about four years ago.”

“What brought you back? Missed all the excitement?” You laugh and he gives a small smile, but an emotion you can’t pinpoint crosses over his face.

“Somethin’ like that,” Eddie mutters, popping a cigarette between his lips. “Wanna go outside an’ have a smoke with me?”

“I’d love to,” you say with an apologetic tone, “but I really don’t wanna leave her alone.” You motion to your friend, who is currently trying to convince the bartender to let her have another drink. But as soon as she hears you using her as an excuse, she waves you off.

“Go,” she insists. “I’ll be fine. ‘M gonna have Jeff take me back home.” She stands on her tiptoes, nearly falling over, flailing both her arms wildly when she spots Jeff in the crowd and shouting, “Jeffy! Jeffy, can you drive me home so these two can have sex?”

You feel your face heat up at her words as Eddie shakes his head incredulously, lips twisting into a cocky grin. The last thing Jeff wants to do after Eddie’s earlier tantrum is help him get laid, but he knows there will be hell to pay if he doesn’t watch after his inebriated sister-in-law-to-be.

“Yeah, sure,” he grumbles, carefully looping his arm around her waist and helps her to his car. He appears to deliberately avoid making eye contact with Eddie, though you don’t know why. The two of them seemed to be getting along just fine on stage. The rest of the band leaves with them, carrying various instruments. No one even acknowledges Eddie’s presence. 

“Uh, everything okay?” You can’t not pretend you didn’t notice; the tension is far too obvious.

Eddie brushes it off with another shrug. “Guys all got sticks up their asses, I dunno.” He pulls a black Bic lighter from his back pocket and motions towards the door, signaling your cue to walk out with him and drop the conversation.

Chirping crickets and a rowdy group of drunks shouting obscenities at each other punctuates the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Eddie looks at you expectantly, holding out his lighter, and you realize that he’s waiting for you to take out your own pack of cigarettes. A pack of cigarettes that you do not have.

“Oh, I, um, I don’t smoke,” you stammer, biting your tongue in irritation towards your own awkwardness. “I mean, I’ll smoke, like, socially, but I don’t carry cigarettes on me. Sorry.”

“Wanna bum one?” You pluck one from the pack and lean in as he lights it for you. The crisp inhale of tobacco lingers in your lungs for a moment before you breathe out, grateful that you didn’t cough like a middle schooler stealing cigs from her mom’s stash. You take another drag, watching as he does the same. You’d thought that there would be some level of conversation, but Eddie seems perfectly content smoking in silence.

“So,” you finally say, “how long have you been playing guitar?”

He chuckles and pushes his hand through his hair, stopping where it’s gathered into a hair tie. The perspiration on his forehead is starting to dry, but his bangs still stick to it. “Shit, gotta be twenty years now. Damn, I’m fuckin’ old.”

“How old are you?” It comes out more accusing than inquisitive, and you sharply inhale more nicotine to shut yourself up.

“Turned thirty last month.”

“Oh, that’s not old,” you reassure him. “I’m twenty-eight, so…not far behind.” 

He doesn’t say anything in response to this. Maybe you’d misread his intentions. Or maybe he’d lost interest after just a few moments alone with you. The pretty girl in the blue dress quickly becomes the lame girl in the blue dress, and you both return home unsatisfied.

You try again, this time saying something that warrants a response. “I just moved here last week, if you have any recommendations of places to go. Restaurants or something?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, ‘s pretty boring around here.” 

End of conversation.

“Well, I should probably get home,” you say, shifting your weight onto your other foot and stubbing out your cigarette in the nearby ashtray. There’s no sense in wasting anymore time, and the nighttime chill is biting at your bare legs. 

“Wait, what?” Eddie practically does a double-take. “I thought…didn’t Viv’s sister say something about…”

Or maybe you’d read the situation correctly after all.

“You still want to?” 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” He ashes his own cigarette, and the smirk returns to his face. “Your place or mine?”

Considering the fact that your place is currently housing an eighty-year-old woman with declining cognition, and your father, you quickly jump at the offer to go to his home. 

You walk with him to his car, a beat-up blue sedan. He opens the passenger door, and you thank him with a tight smile, still not sure what to expect. Maybe he’s just not into small talk, but he seems awfully closed off for a man who’s trying to get laid.

A tangle of tree-shaped air fresheners hang from the rearview mirror; they sway slightly as the two of you plop in your seats. Instinctively, you look behind you as he turns the key in the ignition. Nestled into the far left side of the backseat is a carseat. Cheerio crumbs are wedged in the crevices, and an empty sippy cup leans up against it.

“Is that a carseat?” It’s a dumb question; of course it’s a carseat, but you can’t bring yourself to be more blunt and ask if he has a kid. I mean, the guy couldn’t even tell you a single restaurant to go to.

“Oh. Yeah.” Eddie reaches around, placing a ringed hand on the back of your headrest as he backs out of the spot. He doesn’t elaborate on the matter, just speeds out of the parking lot, so you don’t push it.

The words, I love kids; I’m actually a preschool teacher, linger on your lips, but you bite them back. This is supposed to be casual, a one-night stand; you’re not trying to be anyone’s stepmother.

Eddie flicks on the radio to a metal station–of course–and you sit back and try to enjoy the ride. You can faintly hear him humming along to the music. The fingers on his left hand drum on the steering wheel, while his right hand finds its way to your upper thigh. Fuck, it feels good. He gently squeezes, and the sensation of his cold metal rings combined with his hungry touch makes you involuntarily press your legs together.

“Just wait, Sweetheart,” he laughs. “There’s more where that came from.” It’s probably the most he’s said to you all night, and you consider it a small win. You lean in and gently nip at his earlobe, grinning as he shivers at the contact.

“There’s more where that came from,” you echo, shifting back in your seat. Eddie looks at you, brows raised and forehead creased in amusement, but–big surprise–says nothing. He pulls into an apartment complex parking lot, swinging into the nearest available spot, and kills the engine. Without the music or the steady hum of the ignition, you’re suddenly plunged into complete silence. Are you really doing this? Going to a stranger’s apartment to have sex with him? What if he’s some sort of serial killer? But Jess knows him–sort of–and vouched for him, so he can’t be all bad, right? Although, Ted Bundy had friends, too…

Eddie clearing his throat disrupts your inner monologue, and you glance up at him shyly. “Sorry,” you mutter, though you’re not quite sure what you’re apologizing for.

“No biggie,” he says, like he’s used to women just spacing out in his car before they fuck him. “Um, y’ready to go inside?”

You nod, opening your door and carefully stepping out onto the uneven pavement. You wobble a little in your high heels, but you feel a hand on your lower back, steadying you. “Lemme help you,” he mumbles, lacing his fingers through yours and guiding you to the front door of the building. 

The two of you only make it to the stairwell between the first and second floors before he’s pouncing on you, your back against the cold concrete walls. His hands start on your waist, traveling upwards and lightly grazing your breasts before he’s cupping your face. His kisses are hungry, but not sloppy; when his tongue breaches your lips, you let him in without a second thought. He places his knee between your legs, just barely nudging it against your lace thong. “Fuck,” he hisses, pulling away from you and running his tongue over his teeth, “I need you, pretty girl.” 

You pout, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. “Can’t get naked until we’re in your apartment.” You pause before whispering in his ear, “and if you thought this dress looked good on me, wait till you see it on your floor.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “‘S just another flight of stairs after this, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just takes your hand again and leads you to apartment 3C. There are a few Hot Wheels cars scattered on the ground, but he kicks them under the couch without further explanation. He sits down, adjusts his body on the soft beige cushion, and pats his lap. “Your throne,” he says cheekily, exposing tiny dimples on either side of his lips.

Wordlessly, you climb on top of him. Your dress bunches up as you straddle his waist, though that won’t be a problem much longer. You greedily grind your clothed pussy over the rough denim of his fly, sucking on his neck as his strong hands clasp the back of your thighs and pull you closer.

“Needy thing, hmm?” Eddie smirks, chuckling when you feign offense. “Where’re you going? ‘M just teasing you.” He sits up a bit, tugging one dress strap down and kissing the flesh between your neck and shoulder. “Maybe I read it wrong, but…y’look like a girl who likes to be teased,” he says, voice muffled by your skin. 

“N-No, I do. Like it,” you stammer, fumbling with the frayed hem of his shirt and lifting it over his head. You run your hands over the expanse of pale skin, admiring his tattoos. There’s one of a red guitar pick right above his left pec; without thinking, you kiss it gingerly. He lets out a quiet moan, unzipping your dress and helping you shimmy out of it. You’re not wearing a bra, and he nearly chokes on his own tongue when he sees you on display for him.

“Christ, baby,” he groans, “got the most perfect fuckin’ tits I’ve ever seen.” He kisses them and runs his thumbs over your pert nipples before briefly sucking on them. The nickname baby isn’t lost on you, but you try not to read into it. 

Still, there’s a sense of satisfaction at the way he’s crumbling literally beneath you, though you can’t help but snarkily say, “bet you say that to all the girls you bring back here.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, sending vibrations through your core. “Only the ones with perfect tits.”

You hate yourself for wondering how many perfect-breasted women there have been.

“Bedroom?” It’s all you can manage, already breathless from dry humping like a goddamn teenager on prom night.

Eddie hesitates before shaking his head, a curl falling loose from the hair tie. “Let’s just, uh, stay out here. Room’s kinda a mess.” The unsure expression on his face hints at another reason, but he quickly distracts you by pushing your panties to the side, slipping his middle finger into your aching cunt. “Holy shit. S’fucking wet already. I knew you were needy.”

“Y-Yes. Need you. Need more.” You’re already stretched out by one finger, but you’re dying to know how a second one feels. The more of him inside you, the better. He obliges, fucking you with his pointer and middle fingers while his thumb makes tiny, hurried circles against your clit. “That’s it, right…right there. Don’t stop; please don’t stop!” He brings you to your orgasm, smirking as you finish all over his fingers. 

Your rocking slows, and you reluctantly pull yourself off of him and sink to your knees. He’s unbuckling his belt as fast as he can, and you can’t help but notice the wet spot on his jeans right where you were grinding on his thigh.

Eddie’s pants and plaid boxers are around his ankles in a heartbeat. His hard cock rests against his stomach; a pearly bead of pre-cum leaks from the tip. “Let’s see what that cute little mouth can do, Sweetheart,” he muses, leaning back into the couch with his hands behind his head.

You bite your lower lip. “First I gotta clean you off, yeah?” you ask before licking the tip, tasting him. His length twitches at that minimal contact, which makes you giggle. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.” There’s no protesting, so you grasp the base of his shaft with one hand and cup his balls with the other. You suck on the head, circling it with your tongue, before taking as much of the rest of his cock as you can fit into your mouth. 

“Mmm, baby, yes,” he growls, inhaling sharply when you gently tug on his balls. “Thas’ a good girl. Play with my fuckin’ balls, just like that.” He bucks up his hips, bringing his cock even further down your throat. “Gag on it, baby. Gag on my big fuckin’ cock.”

He’s not wrong; at least, it’s the biggest of any guy you’ve ever been with. Hollowing out your cheeks, you increase your pace, letting your nose brush against his patch of dark curls. Saliva drips down your chin; you swipe at it clumsily and keep your focus on him. 

“Shitshitshitshitshit–FUCK!” Before you can even process what’s happening, Eddie pulls out of you. Thick, hot ropes of cum trickle down his right hand, and he buries his face in his left. You reach for a tissue and hand it to him, and he angrily wipes off his spend. 

“Gimme fifteen minutes, and I’ll be good to go,” he says, tossing the used tissue in a nearby wastebasket. He finds the remote tucked behind a couch cushion and clicks on the TV. An episode of Seinfeld comes on. “You’ll do,” he mutters, plopping down next to you and poorly stifling a yawn.

“Sleepy?” you tease, wrapping your naked chest in an itchy wool blanket and curling up. He doesn’t put his arm around you, or make any attempt to cuddle, so neither do you.

“Nah, ‘m fine.” But nearly five minutes later, while Jerry and Elaine argue about God-knows-what, you can hear Eddie softly snoring next to you.

“Eddie,” you whisper. No response, so you try a little louder. “Eddie!”

“Huh? What?”

“I can, uh, I can go now. I’ll call a cab. Just need your address.” You start to get up and head for the phone hanging on the wall, but he puts an arm out to stop you.

“‘S’okay. Stay for a bit, baby.”

Stay for a bit, baby.

It almost feels like you’re taking advantage of him; his curt conversations and closed-off demeanor earlier in the night indicated that he was not looking for someone to sleep over. But now he’s asking you to stick around, resting his head on your shoulder and letting one tattooed arm drape over your waist. You let him stay there, trying your best not to wake him, but you’re forced to reach over him to grab the remote when an infomercial starts blaring.

“C’mere,” he mumbles, half-asleep as he lays down and scoots himself as far back as he can. You follow his lead, pressing your back against his bare chest. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you find yourself drifting off while wrapped in the warm embrace of this handsome stranger.

RRRRIIIINNGGG! RRRRIIIINNGGG!

You’re startled awake by a loud, unfamiliar noise that doesn’t sound like your alarm clock. 

RRRRIIIINNGGG! RRRRIIIINNGGG!

Eddie jolts up, almost knocking you off the couch. “Shit, didn’t think you were still…” He turns towards the ringing sound, still confused. “What time is it?!” His eyes widen as he gets a look at the clock, which reads 7:19. “Shit, shit, shit! Son of a bitch!” 

He practically flies off of the couch, sprinting to the phone and bringing the receiver to his ear. “Wayne? Yeah, I’m sorry…overslept. I can be there in ten…no, you don’t have to do that, I’ll just…okay, okay, fine. See you soon.” He hangs up with a clank, turning back to you. 

You’re just sitting on the sofa, still wearing nothing but your underwear and the blanket. “Everything…um, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but he lets out an overwhelmed sigh. “Let me help you find your dress.” He doesn’t say it aloud, but the real meaning behind his words seeps through: you should leave.

You nod, feeling the all-too recognizable lump in your throat. It happens any time these shared intimate moments come to an end; the realization of just how temporary you are in someone’s life is a punch to the stomach.

You find the bunched blue garment behind the couch and slide it over your head. The fabric feels stale and cold against your skin, like it doesn’t belong to you. Eddie’s only wearing his boxers, and you catch yourself staring at the collection of tattoos that trail down his arms and torso.

“Like what you see?” He laughs when you duck your head, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks as he walks towards you. “C’mon, don’t be shy. Not after that little show you put on for me last night.” He leans down, tilting your chin up to him and kissing you softly. “Before you go, leave your number, yeah?”

That makes you roll your eyes. “Oh, please,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What?”

“Don’t ask for my number if you’re not gonna call,” you say. You sling your bag over your shoulder as you walk to the door. “We don’t have to do the whole song-and-dance. We can just, y’know, leave this as a one-night stand.”

Eddie chuckles incredulously. “You wound me, Sweetheart,” he says. “‘Course I’m gonna call you. How could I not wanna see a girl as beautiful as you again? ‘Sides,” he adds slyly, “We didn’t even get to the best part.”

Begrudgingly, you write your number on a nearby notepad. The phrase don’t get my hopes up for nothing sits on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back.

You’re halfway down the stairwell when you remember that you never called a cab. There’s no way in hell that you’re going to clamber back up to the third floor and ask Eddie to use his phone–and get his address–so you continue down to the lobby payphone and dial Jess’s number.

“H-Hello?” a man’s sleepy voice picks up on the third ring.

“Uh, Jess?” It’s clearly not your neighbor, but you have no idea what else to ask. Did she find some skeezy guy to bring home from the Hideout last night? 

“Nah, it’s Jeff. Who’s this?” When you say your name, he hums in acknowledgment. “Oh, yeah. From the bar, right?”

“Yeah…is Jess there?”

He yawns into the receiver. “Last I checked, she was asleep. Finally. She spent half of last night puking her guts up. Everything okay?”

“Mhm. I was just wondering if she could pick me up from…um, from Eddie’s.” You cringe at your admission; the last thing you want is for Eddie’s bandmates to think that you’re some kind of pathetic groupie.

But Jeff seems unfazed. “I’ll be right there.” Before you can protest, he hangs up. 

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the glass-door reflection. Your hair is a mess, and there’s smudged makeup around your eyes and lips, like a billboard for the walk of shame.

Jeff pulls up a few minutes later, and you bashfully climb into the passenger seat. “Thanks,” you mumble, trying not to let your humiliation show through.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs as he pulls onto the main road, “it’s a special occasion.” When you pinch your eyebrows together in confusion, he laughs. “Ed never lets a girl stay over. Not sure what you did–don’t wanna know, to be honest–but you must’ve made quite the impression.”

“Didn’t mean to,” you say quietly. “We both fell asleep after…yeah. We only woke up when we did because some guy named Wayne called.”

Jeff nods knowingly. “That’s his uncle. He watches his son on Tuesdays when we have our gigs.” 

His…son?

Jeff must notice the stunned expression on your face, and his cheeks flush pink. “Shit, he didn’t tell you about Harris?”

“We didn’t do much talking,” you reply wryly. “I’ll have to ask him about that when he calls.”

“Christ,” Jeff shakes his head. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he’s not gonna call. Never does. Calls it the ‘Cat-and-Mouse.’”

“The what?” Your throat goes bone-dry. You should’ve trusted your intuition, denied giving him your number, left it as a one-time thing.

���He brings a girl back to his place, has sex with her and asks for her number, but doesn’t call. When she shows up to the bar the next week, all insecure and wondering if he’s still interested, he acts like he’s been so busy, apologizes profusely, and strings her along until she catches on. Then it’s onto the next one.”

You feel like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest. Bile burns at the back of your esophagus, and you have to blink back tears. How could you be so stupid, so naive? Didn’t you know by now that guys like Eddie Munson are only after one thing?

The two of you sit in silence until he pulls up to your building. “Thanks,” you say finally, “for the ride and for the warning.” Jeff just nods, watching to make sure you get inside before driving off. As soon as he’s safely down the road, you burst into tears. Angry at Eddie, but mostly angry at yourself.

Eddie watches from his window as you get into a car–Jeff’s car–and leave. Great, he thinks, I’m sure I’ll get my ass handed to me at our next practice for fucking around with his sister-in-law’s friend. If we even still have a band, anyway.

Throwing on a pair of dark gray sweatpants and an undershirt, he makes his way downstairs just as Wayne and Harris arrive. His son is leaping out of his carseat to get to him.

“Daddy!” Harris flashes a gigantic smile. His dark brown curls are a tangled mess atop his head. Eddie unbuckles him and wraps him in a giant hug. He’s losing the chubbiness of his baby fat, but he’s still sweet and cuddly.

“Har-Bear!” Eddie laughs. “Did you say goodbye to Grampa Wayne?” Harris encircles Eddie’s waist with his legs, reaching out his arms to give Wayne a hug through the window.

“Sorry again,” Eddie says sheepishly. “Fell asleep and forgot to set the alarm.”

“Got a job yet? A real one?” Wayne asks stoically, ignoring his nephew’s apology.

A storm cloud washes over Eddie’s face. “I’ve told you a million times: nothing’s going to pay the bills as well as working for Rick.”

Wayne rolls his eyes. “Get a job,” he says pointedly, pressing a kiss to Harris’s cheek before lowering his voice and growling at Eddie, “and wipe the damn lipstick off your neck, for Chrissake.”

Jeff’s right: Eddie never calls. The home health aid that takes care of your grandma during the day informs you at the end of each shift that week that no one named Eddie called for you. And while you can’t say you’re shocked, it doesn’t do much to quell the hurt.

You spend as much time as you can preparing your classroom for the new school year. By the time you’re finished, the room is decorated to look like a jungle. Stuffed animals of lions, monkeys, and different birds line the shelf tops, which are packed with various books and art supplies. Your walls are decorated with different posters, all of which encourage kids to be their best. 

The hustle and bustle of the first day of school helps keep your mind off of your personal life. With a thermos full of hot coffee, you happily introduce yourself to your teaching assistant, Will. He’s a sweet guy, a few years younger than you, and he’s practically bursting with games to teach the kids.

“Before I forget,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper, “I picked up our roster from the office on my way in. Looks like we have ten kids this year.”

“You’re the best,” you tell him gratefully, and he starts putting tiny chairs around tiny tables.

Being new to town, you don’t expect to recognize any of the names on the list. There’s an Abigail Carver, a Joshua Harrington…

And a Harris Munson.

“No fucking way,” you muse, apparently a bit louder than you’d intended, because Will’s head snaps up and he swivels in your direction. “Sorry.”

The sounds of bubbly giggles and excited chatter filing into the hallway grab your attention. One by one, parents start dropping off their kids, kissing them goodbye. There are tears–some from students, some from parents–and you’re quick to reassure everyone that school will be so much fun.

You’re just grabbing the sign-in sheet for Mr. Carver to fill out when you feel a small thump against your legs. When you look down, you see a curly-haired boy staring up at you with wide, brown eyes. 

“This is my classroom!” he says matter-of-factly, pointing to the number 3 on the door. “My name’s Harris. Like the guy from Iron Maiden!” He jumps up and down as he speaks. “Are you my teacher?”

“I am.” You smile and introduce yourself, peering towards the door. “Harris? Did a grown-up drop you off?” And please tell me his name is Wayne, you silently plead. 

“Oh, yeah! My dad has my backpack!” He starts running back to the hallway, only to crash right into Eddie. 

“Little dude, you can’t be running off like—” Eddie stops mid-sentence when his eyes land on you. “Oh, shit.”

You set your jaw, willing yourself to stay strong. He’s on your turf now. 

“Mr. Munson, you need to watch your language,” you warn crossly. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, handing Harris’s backpack to him. “I packed him a snack, um, and a juice box.”

“Okay,” you nod, crouching down to Harris’s eye level and injecting enthusiasm into your voice. “Can you find your cubby? It’s the one with your name on it!”

The little boy bounds over to his assigned spot, hanging his bag on the hook before running over to play with blocks. 

Forced to interact with Eddie, you press up on your knees and say, “Pick-up is at two.”

“Can I say goodbye to my kid before you kick me out? Jeez,” he grunts, calling out to Harris with his arms wide open. Harris hugs him, half-heartedly promising to be on his best behavior before starting to race back to the toys. 

“We walk in the classroom,” you tell him sweetly. “That way, people don’t hurt each other!” You make a point to look over at Eddie when you say the last part, though his gaze is trained on the classroom posters. Harris, innocent and oblivious, walks hurriedly towards the group of kids playing with blocks. 

“Didn’t know you were my kid’s teacher,” Eddie remarks, pressing his tongue into his cheek. 

You shrug. “Maybe I would’ve told you if you called me.”

Shooting you the wide eyes that he passed down to his son, Eddie lets his lower lip jut out in a little pout. “I’m so sorry; life’s just been, like, crazy lately—”

“Exactly what Jeff said you’d pull,” you bite back. “Two PM, Mr. Munson.” You walk towards your students to begin circle time, leaving Eddie dumbfounded. 

After a long day of wrangling ten four-year-olds, you’re ready to go home and take a nap. The kids are gathered around the table, molding Play-Doh and giggling amongst themselves. By 2:10, everyone’s been picked up. Except for Harris.

“Typical,” you mutter, kneeling next to the boy and smiling sweetly. “Whatcha making, Harris?”

He holds up a lump of the yellow clay. “A dinosaur, see? Roar!” You fake being scared, and he laughs. “Don’t worry; it’s just pretend!”

“Oh, phew!” You wipe imaginary sweat off of your brow. “I was afraid that he was gonna eat me!”

Harris reaches over to where one of the other students had been sitting and plucks a handful of blue Play-Doh off of the table. “Wanna play with me?” He’s looking at you adoringly, and you can’t possibly turn him down.

Just as you’re about to join him, Eddie runs into the room. “Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. Got, uh, caught up with something.” 

Harris just shrugs, unaffected by his dad’s tardiness. “S’okay. Look!” He holds up the dinosaur proudly, giving another ferocious roar.

“That’s awesome! And super scary.” Eddie ruffles Harris’s curly hair before looking at you. “Can we talk for a sec? Out there?” he asks, gesturing to the hallway.

You huff out a sigh. “Fine,” you concede, and Will slips into the chair next to Harris. 

Eddie closes the door behind him. “Listen,” he begins, twisting his rings around his fingers, ”about the other night…” He trails off, and for a split second, you think he might offer a genuine apology. “I just don’t want this to affect how you treat Harris.”

You bark out an incredulous laugh. “You really think I treat my students any differently based on whether or not I like their parents?” Crossing your arms, you turn back towards the door, throwing out a pointed, “I think it’s best if you leave now.”

Eddie’s voice draws you back into the conversation. “I’ve never had this problem before,” he snorts. 

“Excuse me?”

“Most girls love the thrill of the chase. The will-he, won’t-he. Haven’t struck out yet,” he retorts, a smug grin spreading on his face. 

You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m honored to be the first. I don’t know what girls are into your pathetic games, but I’m certainly not one of them. So, please, just go before you say something else ridiculously stupid.”

Eddie bristles at that, standing a bit straighter and clenching his jaw. “Yeah, whatever,” he mutters, twisting the doorknob and punctuating his frustration with, “Frigid bitch.”

He’s just trying to get under your skin, and you refuse to let him get the best of you. You plaster on a well-practiced fake smile. “If you don’t think that this classroom is a good fit for Harris, you can request a transfer with the office.”

“Sounds like a plan, Sweetheart,” he snaps, yanking the door open so aggressively that it smacks into the wall. “We’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow.”

“Can’t come soon enough.”

Taglist: @littlepotatobeansworld @kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @definitelynotecho @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday @breezybeesposts @tlclick73 @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @krahk

Let me know if you'd like to be added!

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

[baddingtonbitch]

Chain Reaction (1996) / Constantine (2005)

#let her out of there! #rachel weisz #keanu reeves #chain reaction #constantine #my gifs

[darlingsfandom]

Hmm but imagine older Eddie and Pedro in the same room together 😵‍💫

I'm sorry this took me awhile! I had to think about it!

Pairing : Older Rockstar! Eddie x Fem! Reader x Pedro Pascal

Warnings: Three some, squirting, swearing

"That was amazing!!" You lit up like a Christmas tree as corded coffin said goodnight to the crowd. You hand laced into Pedro's as he kissed your temple.

"I got another surprise for you." Pedro helped walked you through the sea of people making his way backstage and your heart started racing.

"Don't tell me we're going to meet them!" You face turned bright pink as Pedro showed security the pass and the two of you stepped into the room. "Pedro!" You clung onto his arm as he chuckled and helped you walk over to the old leather couch.

"Actually my sweetheart, you're meeting Eddie for the first time and I... well eddie and I go back." Pedro sat with you on the couch but you couldn't sit still. You climbed into his lap, wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him over and over and over again.

"Thank you." "thank you." "Thank you!" You mumbled in between kisses while holding his face in your hands. Pedro laughed happily as he continued to kiss him all over his face. You two were lost in your own company that you didn't even notice that Eddie was standing in the room playing with the chain on his jacket. Eddie cleared his throat and you almost peed your pants seeing him standing there.

"Eddie.." Pedro helped you up to your feet as you smoothed over your plaid skirt. "This is my girl, that one I've told you about." Pedro placed his hands on your shoulders and kissed the top of your head as Eddie put his hand out.

"I've heard so much about you, although Pedro didn't tell me how absolutely gorgeous you are." Eddie brought your hand up to his lips and gave it a soft kiss before looking up at Pedro. "So Pedro... did you two talk about... ya know ..." Eddie wiggled his eyebrow as you frowned in confusion.

"We haven't got that far yet Eds." Pedro turned you around to face him. His fingers ran through your hair before sitting down with you on the couch. "You see baby, Eddie and I are friends.."

"You're friends with Eddie Munson and you didn't tell me!" You slapped Pedro's arm playfully as he laughed.

"Baby, Eddie and I have been friends since I was an extra in his music video back in 1996! That's even before you were born." Pedro cleared his throat. "Anyway I've been telling Eddie about you since the day I met and long story short , Eddie and I talked about a threesome recently..."

"A threesome!" You blurted out before covering your mouth with your hand and recovered yourself. Eddie chuckled at your reaction. Your hands wrapped around Pedro and you pulled yourself onto his lap. "You know I love you right ? Not just because off all this either!" You attacked him with kisses again.

"I know sweetheart. Now do you want to do this? We don't have too..."

"I do!!"

Pedro sat you on the couch before standing up and standing next to Eddie. You sat on the edge of the couch with your hands folded on your lap and giving them the best doe eyes possible before licking your lips. Your hands unfolded and ran down your thighs before you reached down, grabbed the bottom of your shirt and tossed it on the floor exposing your tits to them.

"Shit... those are nice." Eddie commented as he started rubbing the bulge in his pants. Your cheeks turned red as you started playing with your nipples. You looked at Pedro who was also rubbing his own bulge. You reached out for Pedro and he came to you. He sat down on the couch before you climbed onto his lap, put your back against his chest and spread your legs open in front of Eddie.

"You spoil here Pedro! She's wearing pink silk panties." Eddie walked up to you until he was standing between your legs. The smirk on his lips grew before he reached down and slapped your tits. You jumped forward a little. "That's right baby, see , your daddy and I have planned this for awhile. So don't you dare hold back on me. I know all your little kinks sweets." Eddie held your face in his hands as he kissed you hard while Pedro's hands snuck around the front of you and ripped your panties open. A soft whimper left your lips to escape into Eddie mouth as he was busy sticking his tongue down your throat. Pedro's lips sucked love bites along your neck.

"Barely even touched you and you're already wet." Eddie's finger ran down your exposed slit as he pulled away from you. Pedro lifted you up again and stood next to Eddie. Both men dropped the pants in front of you. Two big thick cocks were in front of you and you could've cum at the sight. Instantly you got on your knees and started sucking Pedro off. "Fuck baby girl! That's it, just like that, suck my cock." Pedro's fingers ran through your hair as you reached over and started stroking Eddie. His cock wasn't as thick as Pedro's but still felt heavy in your head you pulled away gasping from Pedro's cock before looking up at Eddie who was more than ready for you to suck his cock. You relaxed your mouth and slowly took Eddie down your throat until your nose was against his pubic bone.

"Damn! Pedro you're a lucky man. She's barely started sucking me and it already feels good." Eddie started thrusting his hips forward. Pedro laughed as he grabbed Eddie shoulder while you jerked him off.

"Oh trust me, I know I'm lucky! She's the sweet baby in the world with such nasty kinks!" Pedro patted your head as Eddie pulled out of your mouth. You wiped the spit away with the back of your hand before Pedro pulled you to your feet, kissed you hard and pulled your skirt down at the same time. He pushed you back into the couch as you looked up at him innocently. "Baby be a good little whore and show Eddie your pretty cunt!" You nodded quickly as you laid back, lifted your legs and spread them wide.

"Fuck! That is a pretty cunt. Can't wait anymore." Eddie looked at Pedro who gave him the clear. Eddie rubbed the head of his cock against your clit before sliding into you inch by inch. The sting was new since you were used to Pedro's cock. Eddie waited a minute before slowly thrusting into you while you held your legs up by your knees. Pedro stood next to you and rubbed his cock against your lips. You smiled up at him as you took his cock into your mouth. Both moan groaned as they fucked your holes. Eddie licked his thumb before reaching down and rubbing circles onto your clit. "Pretty girl, taking two big cocks!" Eddie hunched over you more drilling his cock deeper into you causing you to moan around Pedro's cock. You tapped onto Pedro's thigh and he pulled away leaving you breathless with spit hanging from your mouth.

"Are you okay baby, do you need a minute?" Eddie slowed down on his actions as Pedro stroked your hair.

"I'm okay just ... just want your cock stretching me out too!" You batted your eyelashes and how could they say no to you? Eddie pulled out slowly and sighed as the lose of your pussy but that only last a second. Pedro sat next to you and helped you onto his lap. Your back was against his chest as you sank down onto his cock. "Oh fuck me! Fuck!" You missed his cock. Eddie waited until Pedro was fully inside of you and then put his cock into you. You cried out loud feeling both of them inside of you. You bit your bottom lip as you started bouncing up and down slowly.

"That's a good girl! You like two cocks in ya don't ya pretty girl?" Eddie asked as he watched your tits bounce faster with each time you went up and down like the horny little bunny you were.

"Yes she does! Fucking hell! Your milking our cocks so good baby." Pedro reached around and toyed with your nipples while Eddie used his thumb to draw circles on your clit. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you felt the familiar bubbling in your stomach brew .

"I ... fuck... I need.. fuck.." you panted as both men took over your bouncing and started pounding into you like their life depended on it. Pedro knew what was about to happen but Eddie ... Eddie was in shock.

"OH MY MMM FUCK FUCK FUCK!" You cried out as you gushed against their cocks.

"Holy shit!" Eddie's eyes went wide as he watched your squirt cover everything as he pulled away his cock to start pumping the wetness onto his cock. You collapsed against Pedro who hit his own orgasm hard and filling you full of hot cum while growling into your ear. Eddie's orgasm had hit him a few seconds later and he came on your tits. Eddie collapsed on the couch next to you and Pedro who was still balls deep in you, and swiped his cum with his finger and stuck it in your mouth. All of you laid there panting before eddie looked at Pedro with a shit eating grin.

"We have to do this again sometime my friend." Eddie kissed you softly as he pulled his sticky self off the leather couch before helping the both of you up. You looked around for your panties only to find eddie had put them in his pocket. "We can do this again, but next time ... we need a camera." Pedro wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and kissed your head as Eddie kissed your cheek and said goodbye until the next time you'd see each other again.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson smut #older eddie munson #pedro pascal #Pedro pascal smut #pedro x reader #pedro pascal nsft #pedro pascal x female reader #emsblurbs

[roxxeatzgravel]

I don't know why I made this

Why Romeo + Juliet 1996 lowkey implied that gay people (Tybalt) exist

A unorganized essay by Roxx

I firmly believe there is no way Tybalt, Capulet's nephew and Juliet’s cousin, was heterosexual in any way, shape, or form. He is, at least to me, extremely queer coded, whether it was intentional or not. The way Tybalt interacts with the cast screams Internalized Homophobia, from his aggressive and somewhat jealous nature towards Romeo to the banter he and Mercutio shared during their fight, he is just a very queer character and the gays love a enemies to lovers story (I’m the gays)

We don’t see Tybalt interact with Juliet, but I personally would guess they are close, at least as close as cousins are, given they most likely lived a majority of their lives together. If you really look into Romeo’s attempt to calm Tybalt in the play (and most versions) it can read in a homoerotic nature

Tybalt:  “Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford, No better term: Thou art a Villain”

Romeo: Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee Doth much excuse the appertaining rage to such a greeting. Villain am I none. Therefore farewell. I see thou knowest me not.” Quote; Act 3 scene 1, they basically just broke up

 and the 1996 version of the film doesn’t help this notion of Tybalt having a raging homo crush on Romeo (haha mean girls reference) either, given how close they are standing next to each other and Romeo’s expression, in that film he looks absolutely heartbroken that Tybalt would resort to such violent action and refuses to strike him. that angers Tybalt and he beats Romeo up, talk about romance am I right? (That was sarcasm, don’t beat your partners it’s fucked up),  and before this, Tybalt looked at Romeo in a way that made him look almost obsessed with him. 

Mercutio and Tybalt are obviously interconnected, they’re not opposites though instead they’re two sides of the same coin, They could even be read as a metaphor for how the hyper-masculinization of Queer men of colour, especially black and dark skinned Queer men, can be harmful and imply the stereotype that men of colour are violent and “uncivilized.” 

So Tybalt’s aggressive nature could be read a reflection of his own internalized homophobia and self hatred that has been pushed onto him by society and probably even his own family, While Mercutio’s aggression could be read as a form of self perseverance to keep himself out of harm's way. They both know that if they are openly queer, they are inherently in danger just by existing.

Tybalt, within this context, hates Romeo because he’s in love with him and he can’t fathom the idea of being in love with a man and a Montague no less.

Also he literally calls Romeo “My man”, I know in various contexts that could mean a platonic bond but c’mon, that's pretty damn gay.

So you might be asking, “Why do you think Romeo and Juliet would be better if Romeo and Tybalt were in love instead? And why not Mercutio and Tybalt?” Firstly, no one would’ve died; The entire reason R & J is R & J is because Tybalt was there, what truly sets off the chain reaction of some of the most memorable parts of R & J is Tybalt. If he wasn’t in the room when Romeo and Juliet were talking, R & J wouldn’t exist, and if he was Romeo’s romantic interest instead no one would be dead, Secondly, JULIET IS TOO YOUNG, I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL, and Third, Romeo and Tybalt would have a more interesting dynamic; the idea of Tybalt having to learn how to be vulnerable with a romantic partner is pretty interesting, I don’t think Tybalt could really ever learn to be vulnerable with Mercutio given both of their short tempers (and Mercutio is lowkey a dick but he’s still cool either way) and lack of respect for the others house. Romeo, obviously, is a bleeding heart romantic who is very very dramatic, while Tybalt is a ruthless, blood-thirsty, and closed off jackass who has some form of daddy and/or mommy issues, and that sort of opposites attract dynamic is the most interesting part of the entire idea of Romeo & Tybalt being an item.

it's giving "She likes a boy, She likes a boy, She likes a boy, She likes a boy, and I'm not a boy, I'm not a boy, I'm not a boy, I'm not a boy"

#ramble :3 #romeo + juliet 1996 #romeo x tybalt #its not done but yknow

[celaenaeiln]

If you had to pick one song that you thought represented Dick Grayson, what would that song be?

(Personally, The Phoenix by Fall Out Boy is mine)

Oh!! I think of that one for him too!

And only one song?! Cruelty, thy name is.

But...I do have one-Whatever It Takes by Imagine Dragons

Like the whole song is too perfect, I just want to write everything that matches. Actually I will

Always had a fear of being typical Looking at my body feeling miserable Always hanging on to the visual I wanna be invisible

Dick has always thrived for adventure and excitement which is one of the defining features of his Robin.

The sexual comments he hears and his reaction to his body.

Looking at my years like a martyrdom Everybody needs to be a part of 'em Never be enough, I'm the prodigal son I was born to run, I was born for this

He was ready to die for his beliefs, he was always going to do things his way come hell or high water.

Everyone was involved in Dick's life. Whether they were during his time or after, everyone knows the glory of the first robin.

He's canonically called the Prodigal son. Becoming Robin was his destiny, becoming Batman was his duty. He was born for this.

Whip, whip Run me like a racehorse Pull me like a ripcord Break me down and build me up I wanna be the slip, slip Word upon your lip, lip Letter that you rip, rip Break me down and build me up

Dick thrives off challenge. The higher the fall, the stronger the pain, the harder the task, the more excited he is. Always reaching for the next greater thing, he craves the difficulty with eager eyes.

Whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do whatever it takes 'Cause I love how it feels when I break the chains Whatever it takes Yeah, take me to the top, I'm ready for Whatever it takes 'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins I do what it takes

It's always been the thrill for him. He's canonically called an adrenaline junkie and the untouchable standards he sets? The ones everyone just accepts as impossible because it is impossible except for him and his perfectionist drive. He shatters his own glass ceilings.

Hypocritical, egotistical Don't wanna be the parenthetical, hypothetical Working onto something that I'm proud of, out of the box An epoxy to the world and the vision we've lost I'm an apostrophe I'm just a symbol to remind you that there's more to see I'm just a product of the system, a catastrophe And yet a masterpiece, and yet I'm half-diseased And when I am deceased At least I go down to the grave and die happily Leave the body and my soul to be a part of thee I do what it takes

The greatest thing about Dick is he's always working to be something greater, something legendary.

He reminds people there's more to humanity, his hope and compassion are beacon of light to heroes and civilians and even villains occasionally get caught up in it like moths to a flame.

He's a masterpiece with crinkled edges and dancing shadows.

And he'll live life to the fullest until his end, may his legacy and glory live on.

Nightwing (1996) Issue #1000000

#as if there was any doubt #dick grayson #nightwing #robin dick grayson #cl anon asks #thanks for the ask!

[scary-pixie]

TAGGY THING!

Tagged by @clogginbloggingoggin!

LAST SONG:

Dancing in the Street by Martha Reeves & The Vandellas

CURRENTLY WATCHING:

The Tourist Season 2. It's very good! And Fallout later this week...eeee!

THREE SHIPS:

maura + eyk + daniel from 1899 (I dunno if this has a fancy name)

theon + sansa (theonsa)

maleficent + diaval (maleval)

FAVORITE COLOR(S):

pink, black, gold

CURRENTLY READING:

"Don't Let Go" by Harlan Coben. Haha I love his Netflix & Amazon shows!

CURRENTLY CONSUMING:

Great Value (tm) chicken strips with WcDonald's sauce from yesterday. I already ate all the nuggets.

FIRST SHIP:

Kunzite/Malachite and Zoisite from Sailor Moon.

PLACE OF BIRTH:

toronto, ontario, canada

CURRENT LOCATION:

in my house

RELATIONSHIP STATUS:

unless it's with a fictional character in my IMAGINATION, I'll give relationships a hard pass.

LAST MOVIE:

Chain Reaction (1996) starring Keanu Reeves.

CURRENTLY WORKING ON:

eating my chicken strips. also writing a video game preview, and maybe I'll do some art soon.

tagging!!

@anath3ma-d3vic3 @xionthelostpuppet @admiraleyk @shyloudpanda @everasbefore-everjustassure

#tag game

[randomvarious]

1990s German Techno Playlist (YouTube)

Started putting together a small playlist of some of my personal 90s German techno favorites for you all to enjoy for this week 😎. It's not definitive by any means, but with this first iteration, I think this thing still presents a pretty nice range of different types of techno, from the deep and rumbling, hypnotic basement kind to the main-room-of-the-club floor-stomping kind 😤. And despite the fact that most of these selections come from a small handful of Germany's most well-established dance and techno labels—Harthouse, Tresor, and the qualitative-over-quantitative Chain Reaction—I'd say that, given the YouTube play counts for a lot of these tracks, that most of them are a tad bit obscure too 👍.

Ich und meine buddies vibing to ze German 90s tekno

But while almost all of these tunes are by German acts that were released by German labels, the track that we happen to kick off with here, an eleven-plus minute piece of acid-drenched sci-fi psychosis from 1993 called "Blanche," by a short-lived duo from Mainz who called themselves Purple Plejade, is not from a German label at all, but is instead from a Dutch label called Djax-Up-Beats. Purple Plejade was made up of a couple notable German techno names in Holger Wick and Thomas P. Heckmann, but the two of them together only put out a couple of 12-inches, and "Blanche" was their first. Now, there's a scratchy ten-minute version of this song that's already on YouTube, that I think was uploaded back when the maximum length of your video could only be ten minutes, and that thing has over 41,000 plays on it. But this *full,* extra-minute-plus affair, as Gott originally intended it to be heard, only has under 11,000 plays across a bunch of different YouTube uploads, by comparison.

Now let's talk about a couple other favorites on here: one floor-stomper and one that's headily sublime. The floor-stomper comes courtesy of Bad Nauheim's Patrick Lindsey, who in 1996 released a 12-inch called The Phat Jive on Harthouse. And the title track on that release is what you get when you pair some melody that's reminiscent of a theme song from one of those syndicated reality court shows that airs on TV in the afternoons with some snaky, beeping synths and smacking four-on-the-floor percussion to then overwhelm it. A unique fucking banger that's sitting at over 1,300 plays.

And for that headily sublime one, which closes us out, we have a tune from Berlin's DisX3, aka Alexander Kowalski, who in 1999 put out a 12-inch on Tresor called Sequenzed_Function E.P., which kicked off its b-side with "Bored Meat." This stunner's loaded up with a fuck-ton of Richter scale-registering drums to form its rhythmic foundation, but where it really kills is with its weakly plonking, contrastingly high-pitched synth melody that gets placed atop of it all, while including a bunch of jingling hi-hats too. Basically, if you really love yourself some techno music, this is a track that should simply pierce your mechanically-made soul 🤤. And it's only been listened to less than ten thousand times on YouTube!

This playlist is ordered as chronologically as possible:

Purple Plejade - "Blanche" Patrick Lindsey - "Prepare to Jam" Patrick Lindsey - "The Phat Jive" Porter Ricks - "Port of Transition" Alter Ego vs. David Holmes - "The Evil Needle" Pacou - "T.4" Continuous Mode - "Direct Drive Mode 1" DisX3 - "The Wide Theatre" DisX3 - "Bored Meat"

And this playlist is also on YouTube Music.

So with the introduction of this playlist, we start out with a total of ten songs that run for 68 minutes. Altogether, a good and eclectic clip of stuff here to get us started that's not very well known.

And next week we'll be staying put in Germany, but we'll be getting into some much chillier stuff! 🥶

Enjoy!

More to come, eventually. Stay tuned!

Like what you hear? Follow me on Spotify and YouTube for more cool playlists and uploads!

#techno #dance #dance music #electronic #electronic music #music #90s #90s music #90's #90's music #youtube #youtube playlist #youtube playlists #youtube music #youtube music playlist #youtube music playlists #germany #deutschland

[climate-crisis]

The Arctic ice sheets are melting. Many already understand that is will lead to sea-level rise, but there is another effect that this may have on the world. In the past the melting of large masses of ice in the Artic Ocean has happened before and they had massive effects on the climate. Europe cooled dramatically, especially in winter, and Asia showed signs of desertification. Climatologists believe that these temporary climatic shifts may happen again now that the Arctic ice sheets are melting due to human driven climate change.

You may wonder how melting ice sheets may make parts of the world cooler. Some might know of the albedo effect. The white of the ice reflects the energy of the sun back into space. As the ice melts there is less white to reflect the energy and more heat remains on Earth. If the heat is increasing, then how can parts of the world become cooler? This is because the chain reaction that leads to potential cooling isn’t linked to the amount of ice left, but the amount melted. When ice melts, fresh water is added to the ocean and this influences how the ocean functions.

Oceanic circulation is often called a conveyor belt by oceanographers. Ocean waters rise in the Northern Pacific Ocean and the Indian Ocean. Then they travel across the surface to eventually sink again in the North Atlantic Ocean. From there they travel across the bottom of the ocean back to the Pacific and the Indian Oceans. Figure 1 shows this circulation. It takes centuries for waters to travel along the entire conveyor belt, but if the circulation gets disturbed the effects may be noticeable quite a bit faster. This may be a good hundred years, but that is quite fast on a geological time scale.

Figure 1: This map shows a simplified image of the Great Ocean Conveyor Belt. Arrows indicate the direction in which the water travels. Blue indicates deep water currents and red indicates surface water currents (Source: IPCC 1996, based on Broecker (1987)).

So what happens if a lot of fresh water from icebergs gets added in the area where the waters sink? To answer this question we need to know the mechanisms behind the sinking of these waters or, as it is also called, the North Atlantic Deep Water formation. The warmer waters that arrive from the south are saltier without being heavy. This is due to the different properties water can have at different temperatures. As the waters travel north they become colder. The higher salt content causes the waters to become heavier and eventually sink. Much like water evaporates more when the air is warm and then falls down as rain when the air cools. When fresh water is added to these waters their salt concentration decreases and therefore the speed at which they sink decreases as well.

Scientists have measured a slowing down of North Atlantic Deep Water formation in certain places in recent years. They have also observed mass melting of icebergs in the distant past. These are called Heinrich events and can be observed in oceanic sediment by the large rocks that fell as the icebergs melted. Both computer models and natural records from prehistoric times show a chain of events caused by this melting and subsequent slowing and/or stopping of the North Atlantic Deep Water formation. Figure 2 shows a simplified map of climate anomalies from an event that happened 8,200 years ago. Lands near the North Atlantic cooled down, especially during winter, Africa and Asia saw decreases in rain, and the Americas suffered from increased winds.

Figure 2: Summary map of climate anomalies during the 8k event (from Alley & Argustsdottir (2005)).

But how can one part of this circulation cause effects as far away as India? Lets go back to the name ‘conveyor belt’. If you stick a screwdriver in the place where the conveyor belt at a supermarket cash registry disappears down, the whole belt will stop moving. The same applies to the oceanic conveyor belt to a degree. If no more water sinks in the North Atlantic Ocean the rest of the system will slow down and stop as well. The oceans have a massive influence on the climate of the world, especially on landmasses near these oceans. Warm waters from the equatorial region move north and release their heat (also shown in figure 1). During winters this means that temperatures do not get as low as they could. If no more warm waters move north this influx of warmth is also gone. North America and Europe suffer much colder winters in this scenario. Models and prehistoric records have shown the formation of sea ice in Europe in these conditions. In Africa and Asia monsoons are very important for the formation of rain. Monsoons form due to the balance of ocean temperatures and land temperatures. The slowing and/or stopping of the ocean conveyor belt will change this balance and the characteristics of the monsoons will change, leaving Africa and Asia drier than before.

However, we shouldn’t panic and start worrying about apocalyptic winters in Europe or massive crop failures in Africa and Asia just yet. The Earth’s climate is a system about balances. A balance can be upheaved, but as long as certain thresholds aren’t passed the balance will be restored. The slowing of North Atlantic Deep Water formation that has been measured in certain spots recently doesn’t mean that the whole system will be messed up. In other areas the waters are still sinking at regular speeds and scientists haven’t measured any of the other waters moving towards these sinking spots slowing down. Even if it came to it, the conveyor belt can restart and speed back up again, as it has in the past. This article isn’t written for the purpose of scaremongering. It is a look at a truly tiny part of the massive system of checks and balances that influence the climate on Earth. How complicated it is to predict how the human driven climate change will effect the Earth in the long term. There is a reason why we changed from talking about Global Warming to Climate Change. In the past Heinrich events and the climatic changes linked to it were most often observed at the end of ice ages. The Earth was warming, but would temporarily cool down again. However, the forcing behind the warming was too strong and the Earth would continue to warm. If the forcing had not been as strong, the Earth could have gone back to the way it had been before (the ocean conveyor belt never stayed still). This is why we talk about thresholds and tipping points. The Earth can regain her balance. It will take a long time, but we can help her along the way.

If you want to read more about the North Atlantic ‘conveyor belt’ and the associated climatic changes a good place to start is: Alley, R. B. (2007). Wally was right: Predictive ability of the North Atlantic" Conveyor belt" hypothesis for abrupt climate change. Annual Review of earth and Planetary sciences, 35(1), 241-272.

Reference:

Alley, R. B., & Ágústsdóttir, A. M. (2005). The 8k event: cause and consequences of a major Holocene abrupt climate change. Quaternary Science Reviews, 24(10-11), 1123-1149.

#climate change #climate crisis #climateaction #crisis #environmental activism #activism #climate activism #activist #climate science #climate #weather #glacier #atlantic records #conveyor belts #arctic #ice sheets #ice caps #melting #global climate change #global

[keanuquotes]

1996 Keanu Reeves / Chain Reaction / Interview on the set

#youtube #Keanu Reeves #Chain Reaction #movie making

[argyrocratie]

Reciprocity implies that something is given and another thing is given back (A gives to B who gives to A or to C who gives to A); but first of all, it entails an obligation binding the participants. The whole point is the debt created by the initial gift and the chain reaction that it puts in motion. The active principle of this process is, of course, the moral obligation binding the debtor to the creditor through the debt thus created. This is, in essence, an unequal relation: A, the creditor, is superior to B, the agent incurring the debt. This is indeed a powerful mechanism and could pass as a “social contract” in Rousseau’s or Hobbes’ sense (Godelier 1996). It is to society what an engine is to an automobile.

More recent research has shown, however, that sharing is based on a different principle: it is a division of an object, commodity or good, between persons or groups, without anyone being seen as giver and no one being in a position of incurring a debt. It looks strange, a gift without a donor, something like the zen koan of one hand clapping, but it is actually something that has an empirical basis. There are various ways to achieve this. For example, large animals caught by hunters–Hazda or Inuits—are declared to be gifts of nature and must be shared, often by someone who is not the hunter. Another way to achieve this has been called “demand sharing” (Peterson 1993), whereby the person who owns an object lets himself be dispossessed of it under the request put to him by someone else. This concept is similar to “tolerated theft,” a notion used in the study of primate behavior. In all these cases, there is no expectation of reciprocity. You cannot give back something that is not given to you in the first place.

Sharing has been confused with what Sahlins called general reciprocity (Sahlins 1965) and with the moral concept of generosity. It is neither, although it looks like it. Avoiding debts was a very intentional position and clearly something people were aware of. Inuits said famously “with gifts one makes slaves” (Freuchen 1976). The main lesson that sharing has to teach is the affirmation of equality. Gifts entail a debt that creates inequality. This is why sharing, even if it is not the only way people allocate resources, is a moral dimension of equality and a requirement in maintaining a state of anarchy.

- Charles J-H Macdonald,   “The Anthropology of Anarchy” (2009)

#charles macdonald #anthropology #anarchy

[saltineofswing]

ANOTHER EARTH, FILE 001 – BATMAN

Circa 1996-2003 – ‘BRUCE WAYNE’S TERRIBLE HORRIBLE NO-GOOD VERY BAD DECADE’

The turn of the century is bad for everybody in a world where there’s a new catastrophe every week, but for Batman especially, this is a rough stretch. To this point, all of the despotic alien dictators and insane transdimensional imps have been haranguing Superman, up the coast in Metropolis, But in 1996, the Thanagarian Invasion of Earth occurs, and the Justice League is shaken to is very core. In 1997, Grayson trades up to Nightwing, and Bruce takes on a new Robin, the young Jason Todd, who is definitely going to be fine don’t worry about it. 

This'un is a doozy, truly comic-tier explanation below the cut.

In 1998, shit hits the fan for Batman specifically. Surprise! The Joker kills Jason Todd while perpetrating a scheme outside of the US, right as Bruce and Jason are on the cusp of truly bonding as father and son. A couple months later, the Joker reappears in Gotham and cripples Barbara Gordon, then-Batgirl and also the daughter of Commissioner James Gordon, one of Batman’s staunchest allies. The Joker’s sudden and somewhat inexplicable slide from dangerous, but goofy, crime gimmicks into genuine stochastic terrorism sets off a chain reaction amongst Gotham’s gallery of rogues. In 1999, at around the one-year-mark of Jason’s death, Tim Drake convinces Bruce to accept him as the new Robin after reverse-engineering Batman’s secret identity.

And in 2000, a new and dangerous foe emerges to challenge Batman, self-styled as Batman’s greatest foe – his bane, if you will. It’s Bane. And Bane breaks the bat. During Bruce’s recovery period, he selects Azrael to fill in for him. Azrael, as an unstable zealot at the best of times, ultimately defeats Bane but also does real damage to Bruce’s personal sphere; between the death of Robin II and Bruce choosing to keep his infirmity a secret from his coworkers in the Justice League and subsequent confusion around just who was in the bat-suit during this period, Batman’s reputation takes a substantial black eye at every level, and Bruce starts to cut himself off from friends and family. 

In 2002, a massive earthquake hits the United States’ eastern seaboard, with the epicenter just barely offshore of Gotham City. The city is plunged into absolute chaos due to extreme structural damage to a huge portion of Gotham’s downtown area; the island on which most of the city is built is cut off from the mainland, and the federal government evacuates about 75% of Gotham’s civilian population. The remaining 25% of civilians are basically left to die, as the government declares Gotham City a federal No-Man’s Land, locking down its border. Warring supervillain factions and desperate militarized police forces are eventually brought to heel… by Bane, who takes over Gotham in the confusion. 

Bruce returns to Gotham with Catwoman and finally defeats Bane personally, bringing an expanded Bat-Family to bear and restoring his public image. He also internalizes, finally, the value of relying on other people. He takes a liking to the new Batgirl who emerges during this trial, Cassandra Cain, and formally establishes ties to Stephanie Brown (briefly Robin, currently Spoiler). Simultaneously, Lex Luthor leverages a metric fuck-ton of political influence to get Gotham’s borders reopened, using the positive publicity to get a pardon of past crimes from the President and undetake a Senatorial campaign. 

The suit reflects how utterly fucked Batman’s life is during this period of time. Battered, frayed, with armor plating literally strapped on where old pieces have been damaged or torn off. The tech boom resulting from the Thanagarian Invasion has begun to hit every layer of civilian life at this point, which means villains are starting to get more and crazier gadgets and Batman is forced to keep up. Stylistically it takes inspiration from late-80s/early-90s Batman suits; it’s also the debut of my solution to the costume boyshorts ‘problem’ (I don’t necessarily think it’s a problem, mind you) – Thigh highs!

Back To Title

Circa 1990

Circa 1992

Circa 2003-2007

Circa 2008+

#my art #Batman #dc comics #redesign #character design

[baddingtonbitch]

Rachel Weisz as Dr. Lily Sinclair in Chain Reaction (1996)

#deeply silly film <3 #rachel weisz #chain reaction #my gifs