#this man is a golden retriever
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fozzieosbourne · 6 months ago
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Matthew Porretta auditioning for Bambi Cottage
Back to posting the Golden Retriever Man ™
How in the HEAVENS is this guy so adorable I wanna cry 😭✨🥹🙏💞😘🥰🩷🫠💖
Link {x}
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 9 months ago
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Dog Meshi.
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fozzieosbourne · 4 months ago
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Calling Matthew Porretta “pookie” and “babygirl” until I die 😤🫶💖💕
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thebibliosphere · 7 months ago
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One of the worse things about my content going viral on TikTok, Facebook, and YouTube all at once (help) is that suddenly, there are a lot of new eyes on my blog, and not all of them kind.
A handful, in particular, seem to object to my existence as a disabled person. Nothing new there. People tell me all the time I should free my husband from the terrible burden of being married to me by removing myself from the gene pool.
I can only assume that they're jealous of the fact that someone loves me, someone they deem worthless, while they themselves are loveless.
Anyway. Can't relate, lmao.
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gleafer · 5 months ago
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How David Tennant’s Photoshoot went before they got THAT shot!
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astronnova · 3 months ago
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doodles (as i avoid work) of the super awesome you wouldn't like me alive fic by @ectoplasmranch which i binge read in a 7 hour sitting yesterday
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tojisun · 2 months ago
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also i keep thinking about johnny and how he still goes around calling you his girlfriend even when you’re already broken up just cause it makes you reach out to him, texting angrily how not only are you broken up but you’re already talking to someone else. and johnny just goes, “kyle, right? yeah, s’my type too, hen.”
“fuck you,” you reply back.
days later, johnny sends you a selfie of him and kyle with a message that says, “he said i can join!”
“jesus,” you whisper, awed and horrified at the same time. maybe even a little interested too, who knows.
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marzghost · 4 months ago
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As a starving MumMan shipper, I really said, "Fine, I'll do it myself", lmao hope you guys enjoyed the art!
Their song should be Uptown Girl by Billy Joel 👀
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hometoursandotherstuff · 14 days ago
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raceweek · 8 months ago
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“Happiest Birthday Bunny Bear. Makes Me So Happy To Grow Old Together, Forever.” 😩
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magic-glasses · 6 months ago
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Me desperately wanting andy x readers after watching alien: romulus but knowing he’s autistic + black, tumblr will favor the neurotypical white main character and treat andy like a 5 year old
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schwarznummer1 · 2 months ago
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cullen x amell chart
present to you with baby cornelia and revka
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konakoro · 10 months ago
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If you need another reason to see Abigail, a 6 and a half foot tall man tackles a child out of the air
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haloabove · 11 months ago
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Im such a sucker for Clark “heals in the sun” Kent and Bruce “burns in a storm” Wayne.
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hr-twink · 2 months ago
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and of course, him at all times:
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{River Cartwright | English Labrador}
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sp0o0kylights · 3 months ago
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Adopt a Jock Part One / Previous Part / Part 10.1 (you are here)
A03
Chapter 10 is complete and will be fully uploaded to A03 this weekend when I can get around holiday shenanigans. It's very long so tumblr gets it in parts. I'm sure I could make a Thanksgiving food pun there if I tried hard enough but alas I am not Steve nor Dustin.
Apparently, if you stumbled into supernatural shit, you were rewarded with a mountain of legal paperwork so absurdly thick that Gareth was almost positive it included a government-approved execution clause for anyone reckless enough to speak about things better left unsaid
So, here they were: barely a week past the lab incident, eating lunch, keeping their heads down, like their entire world hadn’t been turned upside down.
(He couldn’t even appreciate the pun.)
“She keeps looking over here.” Tiff’s pen tapped out a furious rhythm, her gaze fixed on one Nancy Wheeler, “And she’s been following us.”
“Well according to Steve she knows about--you know.” Gareth said, keeping things vague in hopes it would prevent any visits from men in black suits.
“I’m sure she just wants to talk.” Jeff said with a note of sympathy.
The fucking traitor.
“I’m sure we’re not allowed to talk.” Stewart muttered darkly, pushing his peas around his lunch tray with a fork.
“Only with people who don’t already know.” Grant tried to argue, and that rapidly dissolved into an argument regarding NDA’s and tricky legal language that Gareth tuned out in favor of his new found hobby--doing his level best not to think about anything beyond his lunch and what new D&D character he wanted to play.
His last one died in the prior game, and though Eddie had--weirdly and entirely out of character--offered to revive it, Gareth had waived him off.
They needed some normalcy right now, and if that came at the cost of Gareth’s beloved druid meeting her maker, then so be it.
Plus a new character was a great distraction.
(He was set on playing a noble elf known as ‘Gregg from Accounting’, but a second dwarf named Iron the Chef had been tempting…)
“She’s coming!” Tiffany hissed, slamming her pen down.
Mourning the loss of an easy, drama free lunch, Gareth sighed and prepared himself.
“Hi.” Nancy said, announcing her presence with quiet determination, books stacked in her arms and chin raised defiantly.
No one said a word back.
“Jonathan let me know what happened, and I wanted to say that I’m sorry you got pulled into all of this.” She paused, clearly thinking her words over, before adding; “Steve, Jonathan, and I used to practice.”
Nancy stopped again, this time blatantly waiting for one of them to say something.
She got more stares in return.
“Given that things sound a little open ended, and that there were injuries, I thought it might be good to start up again. Steve suggested if we do, you all should come too.” She finished, bulldozing right through her own awkwardness.
“Practice what?” Grant asked, confused and trying to cover it with suspicion.
“Defensive measures.” Nancy answered.
Seeing their unchanged blank stares, she gathered her books in one arm, formed a finger gun with her free hand, and mimed shooting in such a deadpan manner that Gareth almost burst into disbelieving laughter.
While he was haunted by visions of Nancy Wheeler holding a gun, Tiff loudly picked her pen back up, making enough noise that all eyes went to her.
“You beat my score on Mrs. Click’s practice test by two points.”
“Uh--yes?” Nancy said, blinking at her.
Tiff's eyes narrowed. “I’m kicking your ass on the final.”
Another dumbfounded blink.
“Okay?”
“Tiff’s coping, as are we--no…defensive measures necessary.” Jeff said, in a desperate bid to soothe things over, “We appreciate the offer.”
She nodded, seemingly placated by his response. “Actually, where is Steve? I wanted to talk to him too.” Nancy asked, changing topics with ease. “I haven’t seen him all day.”
“Ah-ha.” Tiff muttered under her breath, as if catching out what Nancy really wanted.
Stewart kicked her ankle.
“He’s with Eddie.” Grant said, covering the sound of their resulting scuffle.
“He’s been spending a lot of time with Eddie lately.” Nancy noted, in that same neutral tone the Feds spoke in. All fake nice without giving a single thing away.
It was a little terrifying.
“We all spend a lot of time with each other.” Tiffany shot back, hackles very much raised and not bothering to hide it. “We’re friends. That’s what friends do.”
“Man, we are vicious today!”
“She’s really sore about that grade.” Stewart covered, offering a sympathetic pat to Tiffany’s shoulder (who looked an awful lot like she was going to bite his hand for it).
Did Nancy Wheeler even know about the weird academic rivalry Tiff had with her? Gareth took one look at Tiff’s gritted teeth, and thought better of it.
“I wouldn't be if I was able to properly finish that essay,” Tiff motioned to the now hopelessly crumpled paper underneath her pen, “ instead of rushing it because I had to pull someone out of a lab--”
“Nancy’s right.” Jeff cut in, in another desperate attempt to distract them all from eating each other. “I haven't seen much of Steve or Eddie today.”
He turned expectantly to his right. “Gary?”
Gareth frowned back at him.
“Why would I know where they are?”
“Oh,” Stewart said, far too innocently. “You haven’t realized you’re their assigned zookeeper?”
Wadding up his napkin was second nature. So was launching it at his friend's head, who expertly (and unfortunately) dodged.
“So you’re saying you don’t know?” Grant asked, a smile creeping across his face.
Gareth opened his jacket, fishing around for a moment as if he was searching for something, before pulling his hand back to show off his extended middle finger.
Pity he actually had the answer.
“They’re in the drama room. Steve sweettalked Mr. Barns into letting them set up early for Hellfire’s game.” He grumbled, ruining the entire effect.
“See?” Stewart said smugly.
With deliberate slowness, Gareth raised up his other middle finger before waving them both in a circle.
“Fuck you, fuck you--”
“Not in your lifetime.” Tiffany answered, to multiple chortles.
“Don’t bother them, Wheeler.” Gareth continued, ignoring the assholes he called friends to turn back to Nancy. “They’re setting up for the Hellfire’s last game of the year and Ed’s is a little…obsessive about it.”
As in he was known to be a complete and utter terror in the days leading up to his grand finales but Gareth wasn’t telling her that.
These games were a big deal for Hellfire as a whole. Precious things they looked forward to and the finale game was something they often worked several months, if not a solid year, to reach.
This year's game had more riding on it than any one prior. Hellfire’s shared sanity, for example, and a shining piece of normality they all found themselves desperately needing.
(Plus the problem of Eddie flunking again--and not telling anyone.
See--Eddie had been touchy the first time he hadn’t graduated and even with the appearance of monsters and government lackeys, Gareth expected this year to be even worse--but the Steve of it all added a rather explosive emotional element.
“You still have most of Hellfire.” Gareth had pointed out, when he’d hitched a ride home a few days prior and found the paper declaring Eddie’s super senior year a lost cause. “You know you’ll still have them after they graduate too, right?”
“Because they’re going to be looking forward to their old pal Eddie while in college, sure.” Had been the clipped response.
“They will.” Gareth said, with a level of assurance he hoped Eddie could feel. “And if that’s the concern, then you’ll definitely still have Steve.”
Who hadn’t gotten into college, and openly admitted to refusing to try now that monsters were back.
“I guess.” Eddie had said, looking like a deflated party balloon.
In typical Munson fashion, he seemed to realize he was giving away more “real feelings” than he’d intended too, and changed the subject with an energy that Gareth knew was fake.
He hadn’t called him out on it though, and equally, he had not called out the mania Eddie had slowly been succumbing to since that fateful day. He’d get over it--Gareth knew he’d get over it--if they could just make it past the point where Eddie’s own brain informed him the world was ending to prove it.)
All of them deserved a break, and a place to put aside all the stupid shit and simply have a good time, and heading off Steve’s nosey ex-girlfriend before she could cause problems would go a long way to help.
“I’m sure they can spare two minutes.” Nancy was saying, mid creation of the exact problem Gareth was hoping to avoid.
“No--uh,” He flailed about for a reason she couldn’t, and the longer she frowned at him the more his brain simply vanished all forms of higher thought. “Don’t?”
Nancy’s expression soured, mouth twisting in a line Gareth very much did not like. “I’m sure they--”
“Tell us what other things you practice. Besides, you know. The pews.” He interrupted frantically.
Under the table his foot struck out, and though he had no idea who he’d struck he hoped whoever it was understood what exactly he was trying to do.
“The pews?” Nancy echoed, after a painfully long moment.
“You know? Pews!” Gareth mimed a gun, and then made “pew” noises while firing it.
Besides him, Jeff gave a very Harrington-like sigh.
(He’d been doing that a lot lately, Gareth made a mental note to mock him for it.)
“You cannot tell me you guys only practice with guns.” Tiffany huffed. She had not been the kicked party, but thankfully, hadn’t needed the nudge to catch on. “What happens if you run out of bullets?”
Nancy gave her an odd, almost calculating look.
“We use whatever else we have on hand.” She said flatly.
Which just boded so fucking well for the rest of this conversation (and Gareth’s life, given he was uncomfortably aware of the things that went bump in the night.)
“Well, give us an example.” Tiff continued, and given the now increasingly concerned looks that the rest of Hellfire was darting between her and Nancy, Gareth knew the rest of his idiots hadn’t caught on.
On a piece of paper he scrawled--and the underlined twice, for good measure;
‘Go. Find. Byers!’
--and then chucked it at Grant’s head. Who thankfully opened it, even if he made a face while doing so, before proceeding to pass the note around as Tiff and Nancy traded increasingly pointed words about weapons training.
“When you’re in a situation, you use whatever you have on hand. I would assume you knew this, given what I heard happened the other day.”
“Yes, but wouldn’t it make more sense to train and carry with backup weapons rather than just hoping you find something on the way? What if the--what if we’d been in the woods?”
Gareth watched the note travel from person to person, until it was dropped back in front of him.
‘You go find him.’ Someone had scrawled, followed by multitudes of doodles, two of which featured army-hat wearing dicks driving tanks.
Then and there, he decided that perhaps his friends truly did deserve death should a similar situation arise in the future.
Useless. They were all useless.
“You’re welcome to make a suggestion, Tiffany.”
“I will. I’ll make a list even.”
“Good.” Nancy smiled, with all her teeth.
“Fine.” Tiff returned, looking half feral.
Was this some type of weird mating ritual between academic types? God, they were scary.
‘Well, that definitely won’t come back to bite us in the ass.’ Gareth thought wryly as Nancy stormed off in the opposite direction of the drama room, tapping the note against the table. He glanced at the rest of the group, who appeared to be attempting to tempt Tiff out of her snit by way of asking her what dramatic bullshit she thought Eddie would be pulling in the finale.
If nothing else, he decided, they’d prevented ruining Eddie’s day--and possibly, their entire night.
Nothing, save more fucking monsters or equally evil government lackeys could manage that.
(Pity that Gareth had forgotten the third most powerful force on the planet when it came to wrecking plans.
Middle schoolers.)
xXx
The day had dragged but they'd made it, and Eddie in turn, had made that wait worth their while.
The lights in the drama room were low.
The entire table had been set up with such care and drama that Gareth almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Goblets lined both sides, each filled with a dark red liquid Gareth knew damn well could not be wine.
Candles--real ones, had been lit, casting shadows across Eddie’s face as he lounged in his throne, a master in their element.
A castle, meticulously crafted out of wooden sticks and painted a dark, forbidding gray towered in front of Eddie down at the end, with the layout of the insides crawling down the table atop carefully gridded paper.
Monstrous figurines stood in a row off to the side, like little soldiers, planted right in front of a plain, if not comically large, cardboard box.
It was elaborate, meticulous, and half the items had clearly been stolen from Steve’s house, if not outright decorated by the man’s own hand.
“Welcome, my friends.” Eddie purred, breaking the spell that had fallen over Hellfire.
“Oh my God.” Grant breathed, jostling Gareth’s shoulder as he pushed inside.
“Dude, you outdid yourself!” Stewart added, voice awed as he took it all in.
“He had help.” Steve confirmed, materializing at Eddie’s shoulder. He leaned forward, adjusting something in front of Eddie, ignoring the immediate angry swat and hissed warnings about “ruining the moment, Steven!”
“Glad to see you putting your mom’s party planning skills to good use.” Jeff teased, but no one missed the way he ran a hand down the table, staring giddily at the spread.
Steve gave him a shrug, but even in the dim light Gareth could see how pleased he looked.
It was magical, and Gareth felt something come alive in his chest that he’d privately thought the manticore had killed.
A childish sort of excitement, bubbling up as he realized he was about to have a damn fine time.
This, of course, is when the actual children came in.
“I made a timeline.” Dustin announced, shouldering his way in between Jeff and Grant to slam down a massive piece of paper.
“Oh my God where did you come from!?” Stewart yelped, started as more and more children suddenly swarmed Hellfire’s table.
“The middle school is literally next door. We walked.” Max rolled her eyes as she took a seat next to Tiffany. “What idiot let you guys light candles in here?”
El fell in right next to her, stealing what was clearly intended to be Grant’s chair.
Who looked like he’s about to say something about it until he caught sight of her delighted face.
Gareth would have laughed at the obvious way Grant’s shoulders slumped as he accepted his fate, if his own chair hadn’t just been usurped by Michael Wheeler.
“A timeline?” Steve asked, before Eddie could surge to his feet and kick the brats out.
(They all watched him jerk anyway, like he’d intended to do just that and barely caught himself.)
“Uh, everything?” Dustin scoffed, waving a beat up folder in the air. “We took it all the way back to when we first met El.”
Next to him, Lucas had stepped up to the table, running a hand down it in much the same way Jeff had. “We decided it might help us figure out where the manticore came from.” He said absently.
A riot of emotion exploded over Steve’s face, made all the funnier by the fact that it was entirely at odds with the setup he’d so lovingly created.
“I’m sorry, did we not hear the Chief of Police? He’s investigating this, our involvement is over.” Steve made a slashing motion with his hand, as if that would hold them all off.
(Gareth, who once watched all of these children fight each other over an arcade score for three consecutive days, knew it was a lost cause.)
Dustin made yet another scoffing sound in return.
Given how often he seemed to make them, Gareth wondered if he had problems with a sore throat.
“I thought we all widely agreed Hop’s investigation skills are terrible.”
“Hello?” Stewart said irritably. “We were about to get started?”
Eddie swung himself into a sitting position and made like he was going to stand up, likely to pounce on the opening Stewart had just given.
Pity Steve once again, beat him there.
“Yes, but he’s not investigating, is he? We,” Hellfire’s jock made another motion, this one a circular twirl of the hand. Gareth was starting to wonder if the gestures are directly linked to his stress level. “already did that part. He can now do the part he’s good at, which is fixing it.”
“He’s not good at fixing it, look at what happened with the demodogs!”
It was at this moment Gareth made his fatal mistake. In hindsight, he should have known better than to ask out loud,
“Okay, can someone please explain what the hell’s a demodog?”
Several protests, groans, and pencils are flung his way for it.
(“Do you know how often that word has been thrown around!?” He’d defend much, much later. “You guys keep saying it but not what they are!”
“If you stopped eavesdropping all the time maybe you wouldn’t be wondering about such things.” Eddie had responded snidely.
“It’s not my fault you keep talking about this shit when I’m right there you asshat--”)
“What, you didn’t think there were actually feral dogs in Hawkins did you?” One of the kids asks incredulously, like he can’t possibly believe anyone is so stupid as to buy into it.
“They were like the manticore, but small and more, well, doggish.” Dustin dismissed, this time with a Harrington flavored hand waive of his own. “Ask Steve, he was there.”
Gareth turned to do just that, D&D campaign be damned (He would not apologize for wanting to know what else might be out to kill them all even if the finale was technically on, sue him) to find Steve had slipped right into mother hen mode.
“No.” He spat, charging forward as he flapped his arms around, like the children are a flock of birds he can scare away. “You are not sucking anyone into this, and we are not getting involved! You heard Hop!”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a coward, Steve.”
“I’m not a coward, I’m someone who doesn’t need another near death experience! There’s not a reward if you have five in a row, dickheads.”
Seething and not bothering to hide it, Eddie picked up the massive gold goblet in front of him and took an obnoxiously loud sip out of it.
“I’m also going to remind you that Henderson here,” Steve stopped behind Dustin to rattle his, “is going to camp in a few days? I believe the rest of you also have similar engagements.”
It was Mike’s turn to scoff.
“Lucas is only in summer school until 3 and camp doesn’t start for another two weeks. We have plenty of time!”
“It’s not summer school,” Lucas protested, eyes darting to Max and back as if she wasn’t aware the kid was a nerd. “It’s a creative writing program--”
“Yeah, well, the rest of us are busy.” Steve fired back. “So any theories you have, you can take and shove right up your ass.”
“Why is it always the ass with you Steve? Do you have an ass fixation?”
Gareth watched as Eddie immediately choked on the dyed Mountain Dew he had been chugging down, hacking so hard tears welled in his eyes.
Jeff shared a pained look with Gareth over the table as Grant pounded him on the back.
“I do not have an ass fixation, Henderson--”
“Okay.” Tiffany clapped her hands together, the sound ringing out throughout the drama room.
“Here’s the deal. Summer break is two days away. Steve is right--most of us here are working, if not preparing to go to college. No one needs to go snooping around where we aren’t wanted, and we definitely do not need anymore injuries. Kapeesh?”
Henderson immediately turned on her. “So we’re just gonna trust the guys who fucking started all this!?”
“Given they also have better ways of handling it, yes. We are. Hopper told them about Stewarts goo, they sent some suits in to kill the manticore, and thanks to El’s heads up we caught things ahead of time for once. Can’t we just enjoy that?” Steve was beyond worked up now, repeatedly running his hands through his hair, only to fix it, pick at it, and then repeat the process again. “For fucks sake Dustin, Eddie just stopped limping!”
“I don’t think it’s over.” Mike muttered angrily, pushing a finger against Tiffany’s water bottle.
She grabbed it before it toppled over, glaring at him.
“El, do you feel anything?” Steve spoke like he was invoking a god and not an undersocialized twelve year old.
“No.” She admitted, after a long almost uncomfortable pause. “I do not.”
Steve pointed at her victoriously. “There you go!”
“But--”
“No more buts!” Steve shrieked, before seemingly to realize he’d done so. He coughed, and then said; “I thought you dorks would be storming in here trying to get Eddie to DM for you, not harassing us about the Upside Down.”
“You guys are playing D&D?” Lucas asked, as if he hadn’t been salivating over the spread for the last five minutes.
“I really like your cleric.” Will said quietly to Jeff, having leaned over to look at his character sheet at some point during the argument.
“Will, aren’t you a Dungeon Boss?” Steve asked, to the horror of those around him. “Why don’t you go sit by Eddie, I’m sure you’d enjoy seeing how he does stuff.”
A wince rippled through the members of Hellfire.
There was simply no way Eddie Munson, a man known to be possessive at best, would ever allow any of them to even glance at his notebook, let alone his entire spread laid bare behind his screen.
Those were his secrets--the result of too many late nights and an easy contributor to his failing high school yet again--and this was the grand finale.
Steve sitting next to Eddie had been miraculous enough--and that was with Eddie actively demanding he sit there, in a vain attempt to drag Steve out of his issues.
Fearing the worst, Gareth snuck a glance at their glorious--and notoriously ridiculous--leader.
Eddie sucked on his teeth, the noise painfully loud in the abrupt silence, eyes on Byers the Younger before they drifted back to Steve.
Who clearly had no idea he’d put his foot in it.
Tiff looked ready to break a pencil, eyes glaring a hole in Eddie’s head as if daring him to disappoint the group's golden retriever while Grant, Jeff and Stewart had all magically found something else to look at.
Gareth himself hunkered down, waiting to see how this would play out.
One more painful, pulsing second and then Eddie seemed to come to a decision, rolling out his hand and gesturing Will closer.
“Indeed Baby Byers,” He dropped into one of his many DM voices, something deep but alluring. “come closer and learn from the master of masters. Perhaps you’ll find something here to take back to your own campaigns. Something truly…terrible.”
He waggled his eyebrows at Dustin as Will’s Party groaned, though none of them put up much of a fuss once they saw the sheer smile that overtook Will’s face.
With the unique combination of embarrassment and pride, Will took his place next to Eddie.
Steve beamed in the corner, clearly pleased with himself and it was not lost on Gareth (or anyone else in the know) that Eddie preened only after sneaking an obvious look at Steve’s face.
“God he has it bad.” Stewart muttered, only to hiss when Jeff not so subtly jabbed him with a pen.
Gareth just shook his head, and gave Eddie a grin that said he would absolutely be getting shit for this later.
“Stevie, be a dear and fetch more chairs would you?” Eddie drawled, as he settled back into his throne, baby Byers happily checking out the items he had laid out behind his DM screen.
Which Gareth supposed was Steve’s punishment for inviting the kids along, but then, Eddie may as well have been bossing the jock around all day regardless given the look of the place.
(He’d certainly taken advantage of doing just that while his leg had been healing.)
That was their mess though, and Gareth happily put all thoughts of monsters, murder, men in black and every other awful M word aside to inside pull out his luckiest D20 die.
“Hellfire,” Eddie boomed as the all finally settled, “It's time to show the kiddies how it's done. Let’s roll!”
“And Dustin bitches at me for my puns.” Steve loudly complained as he came back into the room with chairs.
Eddie shushed him again.
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