MuseumGiftShopEraser
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“I’m really happy for you.” He speaks the words into existence, hopes it will make them true, but it’s dark and black in the pit of his stomach. Where good intentions go to die.
Steve has always been a liar. Saying things he doesn’t mean. Carving space for shit he doesn’t feel. A boy so bitter, sooner or later, everybody spits him out.
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“You ever play with dolls as a kid?” Eddie asks, doesn’t know why.
Steve glances at him before turning back to the task at hand. He lifts Eddie’s arm, no use in asking, it’s faster if he just does it, and wraps the bandages around his side. The gauze reeks of laundry detergent and even though Eddie knows it shouldn’t be off-white, he doesn’t comment on any of it. Beggars and choosers, all that shit. Their ritual smells like lavender and copper.
“Not really,” Steve says. Calm and focused like his hands aren’t trembling. “Why?”
“’Cause I kinda feel like one.”
***
After the end of the world, Steve takes care of Eddie.
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Jonathan doesn’t really know Eddie, but he knows of Eddie. Everyone does. Another one of Hawkins’ finest, with his last name stitched permanently to his first. That’s Al Munson’s kid. He’s trouble.
It might as well be Byers. It has a similar ring to it. Laced with rumors and preceded by reputation. Their fathers used to hang out. Drinking buddies down at the only local pub that hadn’t kicked them out yet. But that was before.
OR: In the aftermath of the worst week of his life, Jonathan is grasping at straws trying to stay afloat. Eddie Munson might have just the thing to help him out.
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“Do my eyes deceive me?” Nancy whips her head toward the sound. A familiar drawl and a deep voice. “Or is that miss Nancy Wheeler?”
The man approaches from an obscured door in the back of the shop. It’s been years but she can tell it’s him right away.
Eddie Munson, in the flesh.
It’s the eyes. Warm brown and wider than they should be. It’s gotta be the eyes she recognizes because everything else about him is different.
***
Nancy swallows her pride and returns to Hawkins when her carefully crafted life in Boston falls apart. In the five years since she abruptly cut everyone off and skipped town, all the people she once knew have left for bigger, brighter futures. Everyone except for Eddie Munson, local drug dealer turned reluctant mechanic who is willing to help Nancy out after her car breaks down.
They build a careful friendship over shared trauma and a mutual refusal to talk about their reasons for ending up in the same town that nearly killed them. Feelings grow, cars get fixed and Boston looms on the horizon.
OR: Nancy and Eddie and the girls who haunt them.
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The next morning in the shower, with a headache under the cold spray, he notices a tiny bruise right next to his belly button. Dark purple and shaped like a heart.
Thinks Argyle did it, but he’s not sure anymore. He presses two fingers into his skin and it stings so at least that’s real.
Thinks they kissed after that, thinks Argyle may have whispered something. Called him something.
But he doesn’t remember.
Recent series
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Stories can be read separately!
Years after high school, Robin and Eddie reconnect when they run into each other by chance. This also means that their respective best friends get a chance to meet. Steve and Eddie take forever to get along, meanwhile Chrissy and Robin are clearly head over heels, but too shy to admit it. All of them might need a little push, good thing they won't hesitate to meddle in each other's lives.
Modern AU, content warning for minor mentions of Chrissy's past eating disorder.
- Words:
- 29,428
- Works:
- 2
- Bookmarks:
- 22
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“And- And just to clarify,” she asks, having to clear her throat when her voice cracks. “This is the guy who used to tie you up, liked it when you would goad him into spanking you, threw you a weekend long sex party for your 23rd birthday, and once made you cum so many times in a twenty-four hour period that you forgot what time was and couldn’t walk without wobbling for like three days? Who paid off your student loans a month after meeting you and bought you a condo after you broke up? And you think I should go out with him?”
“Yep!” K chirps, “That’s the one."
OR
Sam Butler and the sugar daddy service top with a secret.
Series
- Part 63 of Mud Writes Mismag
Bookmarked by MuseumGiftShopEraser
13 Apr 2026
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"How many times do you bone down?" Gorgug was pretty sure the candy that he placed into his mouth right, now nearly getting stuck in his throat was a karmic retribution for his attempts at trying to hit Riz with one.
"Warn a guy?"
"Is that something you say when a guy cums down your throat? Assuming you're choking the same way," Riz's voice wasn't condescending, merely teasing and trying to get under Gorgug's skin.
"I don't choke on cum, okay?"
"I wouldn't know," Riz shrugged, reaching for a drink from the table in front of them.
"Why do you ask?
"Just curious, I guess." Riz shrugged, jostling his drink and nearly spilling it all over.
"Wanna know how it feels?" Gorgug turned to Riz. It wasn't an invitation to have sex, but Riz was a curious guy.
"I guess? No? I'm not sure; it sounds kind of disgusting."
"It kinda is," Gorgug laughed.
or
Sometimes late at night you jerk off together with you friend because he's curious how sex feels, and you're more than fine to help figure it out.
Series
- Part 3 of Gorgug à la mode
Bookmarked by MuseumGiftShopEraser
09 Mar 2026
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you construct intricate rituals which allow you to touch the skin of other men by sulfuric
Fandoms: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
06 Feb 2021
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Then, Pete says, “Hey, can I braid your hair?” and it’s all downhill from there.
(or: two sane guys doing normal roommate things and not being weird about it, not even a little bit.)
Bookmarked by MuseumGiftShopEraser
10 Feb 2026
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SUBSTRATE (n)
1. an underlying substance or layer.
2. the surface or material on or from which an organism lives, grows, or obtains its nourishment.
3. the material on which a process is conducted.---
“Do you miss it?” Gorgug asks. Ice leaks into Fig’s stomach.
“Miss what?”
Drinking? Drugs? The burn of tequila down the back of her throat? The smoky-sweet haze settling under her skin until she feels liquid and calm? The buzz at the back of her head, but one she can control; one she can ride out like a surfer on a ten foot wave? Feeling human and likable and electric and real?
Yeah. She misses it.
“Performing,” Gorgug clarifies.
---
or; gorgug, fig, and sobriety
Bookmarked by MuseumGiftShopEraser
20 Jan 2026
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He thinks, in the way that only the past-midnight quiet allows him to, about telling her.
Bookmarked by MuseumGiftShopEraser
17 Jan 2026