Should you for whatever reason want to record any of my fics, or otherwise remix/spin-off/translate/use it in ways I can't think of, it please have at it! Just let me know once it's finished so I can link it! :-) You can use the associated works button on AO3 to do that quickly and easily.
I would greately prefer that any podfics of my works were not hosted on Spotify or other podcast catchers such as Apple Podcasts.
Also I feel this should go without saying but this statement does NOT cover feeding anything I made into an AI. Don't do that.
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I nearly died making this. My ambition got waaaaay ahead of me, but the moment I saw the prompt list, this is exactly what I wanted to do and @amarcia emboldened me with her amazing art and comics.
Whenever Jedi June is around the corner, I think of her because there is no one on Tumblr who draws Jedi like her, not only in terms of favorite subjects but also in terms of philosophy. The Jedi, loved and respected, represented as they were meant to be.
Jedi, jedi june and amarcia are entwinned in my mind so I always try to... kind of... try to channel the vibes and the style, as a token of my respect and love of all three.
I hope I get somewhat close with this. I'm wiped out so I don't have much more in me.
If you like this, I cannot recommend you enough to go stroll the archives of the accounts @jedijune and @amarcia. Beautiful, amazing art awaits you out there.
Thanks to everyone who is contributing to the event, especially the mods. đ
written for @steddiemicrofic | prompt: âthreeâ
[title from 'past lives' - børns]
rated g | 333 words | no cw | tags: domestic bliss, existential crisis
He first says it like a joke, tossed across the living room like itâs nothing more than another stupid Harrington-ism, something to make Eddie snort and call him drama queen.
âThree lives,â Steve mutters, hip-bumping the coffee table straight while sweeping guitar picks and loose change into his palm. âKing, babysitter, and whatever the hell this one is.â
This apartment wears them well: laundry in limp mountains on the couch, Eddieâs favourite mug sweating on the windowsill, Dustinâs spare key hanging beside theirs in a crooked row. A grocery list on the fridge, old ink beneath the fresh scrawl where Steve kept changing his mind about who they are now, what they need. Whole milk, low-fat, lactose-free. Life one, life two, life three.
King Steve lived in mirrors, in the sheen of a car hood and the hollow clamour of parties that never felt like fun. Babysitter Steve lived in bat-splintered knuckles and Eddieâs van, in the thud of sneakers racing down cracked-open suburban streets, and in the terrifying knowledge that he loved kids who werenât his and would kill monsters for them.
This Steve lives here, in the dip of their shared mattress under Eddieâs weight, in the three towels that hang in the bathroom - one for him, one for Eddie, one permanently stolen by Dustin when he crashes. Now-Steve lives in the click of three locks on the door each night, counted off under his breath.
âOne, Iâm not at my parentsâ house,â he says, thumb brushing the deadbolt.
âTwo. Iâm not in the Upside Down.â
He hesitates on the third, palm pressed flat against wood grain.
Eddieâs voice comes from the bedroom, lazy and sure. âThree, youâre here. With me.â
Steve exhales - it feels like shedding old skin - and turns back toward the soft bedroom glow, scattered guitar magazines, a man waiting for him with his hair tied up and his heart uncluttered.
âYeah,â he answers, leaving his past lives at the door. âThird lifeâs the charm.â
On this day, 5 July 1948, the UK National Health Service (NHS) was founded, on the principle that medical treatment should be provided according to need rather than the ability to pay.
The idea for the NHS was not the result of individual enlightenment, but of working-class self-organisation. The inspiration for the NHS came from the Tredegar Workmenâs Medical Aid Society in South Wales, where coal miners and steelworkers paid in a small weekly subscription. By the start of World War II, 95% of Tredegar was covered by the society.
Philip Prosser was born with club foot and received treatment as a result of his father's membership of the Society. He recounted: "I was taken to one of the top orthopaedic doctors in Wales and that was the start of my treatment for quite a few years. When the NHS came in in 1948, I was transferred over. It was exactly the same as the NHS in 1948. We already had it in Tredegar before that."
During World War II, to motivate millions of people to sacrifice and dedicate themselves to the war effort, the government promised reforms to benefit working-class people after the war was over. Conservative MP Quentin Hogg had warned Parliament that "if you do not give the people social reform, they are going to give you social revolution."
Sure enough, after the war ended, servicemen returning home, and others, began demanding better conditions, backing it up with direct action, like a huge wave of squatting. The NHS was part of a package of reforms introduced following the conflict to ensure social peace.
But almost right away, it came under attack. Legislation to bring in prescription charges was introduced by the Labour Party in 1949. Then fees for dental treatments were introduced, and since then the free, socialised service has been under attack from successive governments who have gradually introduced more charges, marketisation and privatisation. Meanwhile, health workers, patients and local communities have continuously fought to defend it.
More information, sources and map: https://stories.workingclasshistory.com/article/10531/foundation-of-the-nhs
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We've been having awful hot weather in large parts of the UK, made worse by a) the humidity and b) the fact that our brick houses trap and hold heat, so they cool very slowly. The only Government advice is to close all your windows and curtains, so you're just sitting in a stuffy dark box all day.
I came across this Heatwave Toolkit which was written in 2023ish and has low-cost, often renter-friendly ideas for modifying your living space. I wondered if I could apply it to my house. Glass heats up really quickly, and I have a sunroom extension on the back of the house that is all glass, even the roof. It's boiling in summer and freezing in winter. In very hot weather it acts as an oven on the rest of the house, warming it up
I like the emphasis on stopping heat getting into your house in the first place. In Europe a lot of houses are built with shutters so that the light can be shut out, but the windows open to allow air flow. In the UK our windows tend to open outwards (they are more resistant to rain and wind that way) so that's not really possible. But I could try some of the others- I quickly realised that it's the same principle as cooling/shading greenhouses, which is essentially what my sunroom is.
The first thing I did was paint the glass roof and the highest small glass windows with yogurt. I could have used Greenhouse white paint, but the blog suggested yogurt and the University of Loughbrough did an experiment and found it could lower the temp by 3.5c. I used normal natural yogurt, and a paint roller, rollering it on my (cleaned) roof using a step ladder and an extension pole.
I know you're going to ask if it smells, attracts bugs, etc, and all I can say is: not so far, and it's been on a week. If you're concerned, you could use greenhouse white paint instead, it's the same principle. Both will wash off easily, so a good solution for renters.
The next thing I did was hang shade netting all around the outside of the sunroom. This is sold to shade greenhouses, and the one I chose blocks 85% of UV light. I cut lengths to cover the floor-to-ceiling windows, almost like curtains. Then I stuck small hooks made for hanging outdoor fairy lights all around the top of my sunroom. They are clear, and fairly unobtrusive. I then snipped small holes in the top of the cloth, reinforced them with gaffer tape, and hooked the cloth onto the hooks. The 'curtains' can be rolled up and tied with string when not in use, and just let down when it's very hot.
Today it was 30c, and I was out all day. I let the shade clothes down this morning, and when I came back around 4pm (in the UK the hottest part of the day is generally between 3pm-6pm) I stepped into the sunroom. Last heatwave the heat would have hit me like an oven, the windows would have been hot to touch, and I couldn't have touched the metal door handles with my bare hand. Today it was- warm. Not burning hot, not a green house, and not hotter than the outside! The rest of the house was cooler too!
I'm very excited to see how this holds up with the rest of the heatwave this week, when we might get to 32c.
'THREE' wc: 333 | rated: T | cw: N/A | Tags: Pre-Relationship, Chest Hair, Nipples, Lust, Inspection, but not in the BDSM or medical way, Eddie's not a doctor anyway he doesn't know if he's right
Steve needs Eddie's opinion to settle an argument.
âOh my God Steve,â Robin sighs. A years long exasperation permeates the air. âItâs not, youâre normal.â
Steve crosses his arms over his bare, hairy chestâEddie forgets to listen as his tits get squished. Heâs been with enough men to have preferencesâunfortunately Steve tends to embody them all.
âIt is! And itâs weird enough,â he argues, letting his arms drop. Heâs too busy to notice that Eddieâs two seconds away from howling like a dog. âYouâve never even looked.â
âYeah wellââ Robin says, rolling her eyes. âExcuse me. I donât want to get all personal with yourâyour nudity!â
Eddie bites at the insides of his cheeks. Their arguments are usually pretty entertainingâthis oneâs the best, because Steve took off his shirt to prove a point that Eddie canât see.
âThen you donât have a leg to stand on,â Steve says, like itâs final. âEddieââ
Eddieâs head whips up from where he was squinting.
âSettle this,â he says, coming closer. Steve gestures at his chest like his tits are vowels on The Wheel of FortuneâEddie desperately tries to conceal that he feels like a crazy horndog.
âOkay?â he asks, pulling up years of DMing experience to keep his composure; Steveâs tits are a hidden enemy, or a boon the party has to discover on their own.
âHow many nipples do I have?â Steve asks. Eddie opens his mouth to say clearly thereâs two, butâ
This warrants scrutiny. He leans in closerâSteve smells good, like always. He looks whole and healthy and strongâEddieâs mouth literally waters as Steve helpfully points to what could be a mole.
Eddie considers it, trying for objectivity.
âCould be a nipple, could be a freckle. Lemme test it,â he says, holding up his fingers. Steve doesnât stop him, so he lightly pinches one of his regular nipples and gets fully hard when Steve sucks in a quiet gasp. He quickly moves onto the third one, lightly pinching that too. âFeel anything?â
âFeels normal,â he frowns, disappointed. âI donât have three?â
Prompt #6 - Family Video | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Recreational Drug Use | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steve & Corroded Coffin, Steddie (If You Squint) | Tags: Pre & Post S4, Family Video, Time Jump, Steve & Eddie Strike a Deal, Open Ending
January 1986
"No, no, no. No way. You already have twenty-two dollars in fees," Steve says, snatching the tape away from Eddie Munson.
"C'mon, man. What's it to you? Is it coming out of your pocket? Did your family buy Family Video?" Eddie asks, planting both of his hands on the counter, leaning towards Steve. Taunting him.
Steve holds his ground, leaning back into his face, "I know you're bootlegging them, Munson."
Eddie bites out a laugh, right in Steve's face, "Yeah right, Harrington. You think I have money for two VCRs?"
"No. I think," Steve says, spinning around, tapping on the keyboard, "Charles Goodwin has two VCR money. He owes me seventeen dollars, by the way."
"Charles? Never heard of him," Eddie says, shifting his weight back and forth. Steve knows he's got him. He's definitely on the right track.
"Oh really?" Steve asks, still tapping away. He'd linked these accounts together months ago. "How about Gareth Jones? He's up to eleven dollars. Or Jeff Williams? Four dollars."
"I'm not sure you should be giving out all this sensitive information about your customers," Eddie says, and Steve rolls his eyes.
"I'm not giving any of you any additional rentals until you pay up."
"Harrington."
Steve isn't moved. "Munson."
"Fine," Eddie huffs, and swishes around, banging the door too hard as he flounces out, in a whirlwind of hair and bad attitude.
"Four dollars," Jeff Williams says, pushing four dollar bills across the counter at Steve. Steve just keeps his arms crossed.Â
Steve can see Eddie Munson's van in the parking lot, and he's not an idiot.
"Where's the rest of it?" Steve demands.
"I owe more than four dollars?" Jeff asks, and Steve tilts his head back, sighing.
"No. They do."
Jeff turns and looks out the plate glass windows.Â
"Uh, I don't know them?" Jeff says, voice lilting up, as if he's not really sure about that statement.
"Sure you don't," Steve answers, finally grabbing the four dollars, and shoving them into the register. Moving over to the computer, and pulling up Jeff's accounting. Marking it as paid in full, begrudgingly.Â
Jeff taps the two tapes on the counter, and Steve rents them to him. Even if he doesn't want to. Even if he knows exactly what they're doing.Â
The note is wedged under the BMW's wiper blade. It's just a crude drawing of a VHS tape and an address. Steve knows it's them. Knows he shouldn't even care what the freaks are up to, but he's curious. Sue him.Â
He parks in front of the house, and Eddie Munson is waiting in front of the garage, smoking. Steve saunters towards him, and Eddie pulls up the garage door, letting Steve duck under. It's all dark, and Steve suddenly feels a gnawing pit in his stomach that he's been set up.Â
Eddie makes no sudden movements though, and just presses his finger to his lips, telling Steve to be quiet.
He opens the back door, and there's an immediate set of stairs leading into the basement. Steve follows him, careful to be light on his feet, and down there are three other guys and a lot of video tapes.
One of them is sitting in front of a double-VCR set-up.
"If you wipe those fees, Goodie said you can borrow anything you want," Eddie says, and Steve scoffs. Who's Goodie? Well, Charles Goodwin, he supposes. Doesn't matter. Steve works at the video store. He can already borrow anything he wants for free, and in better quality than a bootleg.
But he looks closer. And they have things that they didn't get from Family Video. Hardcore things.
"Where'd you even get these?" Steve asks, and Eddie taps a case.
"Indy," he says, "we've got accounts all over."
"And you're selling them?" Steve asks, and Eddie laughs.
"You know how long it'd take to make multiple copies? No way. This is for our own personal enjoyment. And we'd share, if we can strike a deal."
Steve looks at him, studying his face, seeing if he's bullshitting or not. Eddie's a freak, and Steve has no business trusting a word he says.
But.
"You don't want pornos? Fine. Quarter of weed a month," Eddie offers. "You wipe our fees, keep us in tapes, and I'll keep you stocked."
Steve thinks about it. Then, he demands: "Four sleeping pills a week."
Eddie doesn't react for a moment, then says: "Two."
"Three," Steve counters, and Eddie sticks out his hand. Steve shakes it.
Between the headaches and the nightmares, three good nights of sleep a week is well worth making a deal with Eddie Munson.
April 1986
Steve turns the key in the lock. Somehow, Family Video is still standing. He boots up the computer, and slowly types: Eddie Munson.
When Eddie's account comes up, it's mostly squeaky clean. Steve had made sure of it. Their deal really saved his ass over the last few months. There's a lone dollar fee for not rewinding the last tape he'd rented. Steve deletes it. He also marks the two movies that are currently late as returned, before moving the account to inactive.Â
Then, he scrolls through Eddie's account history. Like he's going to learn something new about him from the tapes he'd rented. Unfortunately, he doesn't.
Steve's not sure when, or if, Hawkins is going to be normal enough for renting videos, but if it does bounce back? Well, nobody needs anything else to dig into about Eddie.
"You're here earlier than we planned. Whatcha doin'?" Robin asks, waltzing through the front door.
"Just some housekeeping," Steve says, and clicks back to the main screen. Planting his elbows on the counter, leaning over. He yawns. He's not sleeping well. Again.
"Ready to board this bitch up?" Robins asks. Keith fled or is dead. They don't know which, and Steve nods.
When they leave, Eddie's friends are loitering around Steve's car.
"Here," Gareth says, pressing a baggie into his palm.Â
Three pills.Â
"A deal's a deal."
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! đŚ
Note: Does this follow S4 canon? Or is Eddie just over there healing? Whatever you prefer.
The fee for not rewinding, at least in Chicago, really was $1 in 1985.
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i have a lot of thoughts on the matter but i will say that fandom moving from semi-private blogs and communities to extremely public and algorithm-driven social media was a huge mistake that has changed fandom culture for the worse
2026 Big Bang project reveal time! I'm so excited to get to work with @lamoabss as the artist for this Big Bang project! I'm thrilled you were interested in teaming up to work on my NFL Steve AU submission! I can't wait to have so much fun!â¤ď¸
Details:
Rating: E
Estimated Word Count: 60,000-65,000
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson & Robin Buckley, Eddie Munson & Gareth, Steve Harrington & Robin Buckley
Characters: Robin, Gareth, Wayne, Dustin, Tommy, Chrissy, Goodie, Jeff
Tags: Sports AU, American Football, Modern Setting, NFL Football Player Steve Harrington, Hobby Shop Owner Eddie Munson, Getting Together, Falling in Love, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Closeted Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Secret Relationship, Boys in Love, Happy Ending
Summary:
If there's anything Eddie Munson knows, it's that he doesn't give two shits about sports, or the people who play them. Professionally, or otherwise. It's practically the charter entry in The Munson Doctrine, despite growing up with his Uncle Wayne glued to games on the television year-round. Sports just don't interest Eddie. Never have, never will.
Enter, Steve Harrington.
Henderson dragging this football player into his store wasn't in Eddie's game plan, but, well, Eddie supposes there's an exception to every rule in the book. And now, here Eddie is, living a sports-filled life he never could have predicted.
Eddie learns about football.Â
Eddie cares about football.
It's honestly quite troubling.
Excerpt:
"Jesus H. Christ, look at that thing," Eddie says in a barely hushed whisper, reverent, eyes trained on Steve on the jumbotron screen at the end of the field. He looks to the other side of the field, because that screen is even bigger. It's trained on Steve as he swings his leg high into the air.Â
He's right there.
It's right there.
"Gareth. Look."
Gareth scoffs. "Would rather not."
"But you can see it, right?" Eddie asks, eyes glued to the live feed of Steve's lower body, his crotch, being projected into the stadium. It's all Eddie can focus on. The camera operator must be a perv. He deserves a raise. Why didn't Eddie bring binoculars? Fuck. Coulda, woulda, shoulda. "I'm not hallucinating it?"
"No, unfortunately everybody with eyes can see it. White pants? With that hog? Children are here."
Eddie laughs, "God bless tight white pants. I think I love football. I wonder if he'd wear them for me, up close and personal? For science."
The woman behind him says 'ew' through a laugh, but she leans forward, grasping both of Eddie's shoulders, making Eddie jump as she squeezes a little too hard, her lips resting near his ear, whispering, "Hi. Eddie? You're Eddie, right?"
Eddie nods. She continues:
"Great. He's not out. So can you just be cool? And less horny? Please?"
He turns. She's a cute lesbian. Well, he thinks so anyway. His gaydar is very rarely wrong. Steve did confuse it a little, he can't get everyone right on first impression. Why is she footballing? She doesn't look like she'd enjoy that any more than Eddie would. And why does she know his name?Â
"Nearly everybody around you are season ticket holders. They know exactly whose seats you're in. Just. Be quieter with your cock color commentary. Please and thank you."
Eddie swallows. He never would have thought of that.
"They come to every game?" Eddie asks, because, like. Seriously? That doesn't sound fun.Â
"Every game," she confirms, "and I'm really happy for him. You're cute. For a boy. But. Zip your lip. Got it?"
Eddie nods.
He knew she was as queer as he is.
"I'm Robin, I'm his best friend," she says, finally introducing herself.
Eddie turns, "Does Henderson know that?"
She rolls her eyes.
"He's a little shit. He can say whatever he wants, he's always running that mouth of his. But I know the truth. Who is here right now? Me. I don't see him, do you?"
Eddie grins, "I own a hobby shop. Henderson is a regular. That's how I met Steve."Â
She raises an eyebrow, "I am aware of exactly who you are, Eddie. If you have any other questions, just ask."
Eddie grins, wickedly. "I do have one."
"Okay," she says, suspicious. Rightfully so.
He leans back, getting closer to her, "Is it a cup?"
She sighs, rolling her eyes as she slumps back in her seat.Â
He raises an eyebrow, waiting.
"It's not," she grits out, and Eddie is delighted with this information.
She seems to be weighing something, but finally she leans forward, "Do you know what Reddit is?"
Eddie rolls his eyes. Yes. He's new football, not earth. He nods.
"Check the NFL Bulges subreddit, then. He's a frequent post subject. I hate that I know this. I should not have to know this."
Eddie laughs, absolutely thrilled that this is a real thing that exists. Maybe he can get down with football.
