Part Two
Gareth Emerson had no clue what the hell Eddie was thinking.
There was “adopting lost sheep” as he called it, and “being the nest baby birds needed before they fly” for some of the other poor, mid-year transfers, and all of Hellfire was used to both these adoptees.
People showed up, always looking a little hesitant, always a little careful, and all of them were welcomed until they found their place in Hawkin’s High.
This though? This was neither of those things.
No, what Eddie had done was taken a wolf, or a--fucking tiger, that had gotten hurt fighting other fucking tigers, and decided to keep it as a pet.
Even if said pet was looking very pathetic, with a face full of bruises that apparently, Billy Hargrove caused.
That did not make sitting across from the fallen King and current senior, Steve Harrington, any easier.
Judging by the rest of Hellfire’s constant uneasy glances and uncomfortable, awkward joking, no one else was comfortable with it either.
Except of course, for Eddie.
“Dude can we like, talk for a minute?” Gareth asked, motioning at Jeff and Grant to distract Harrington. Not that it was hard, the jock was too busy staring at his pathetic packed lunch to notice much.
(The guy brought soup to school and was drinking it cold. What the fuck.)
“Ga~ary.” Eddie sing-songed, but it was in warning.
A warning very much ignored, as Gareth stood, and moved to tug Eddie up with him.
“Now, Eddie.” He said, his own tone a manic, if suppressed version of his own warning.
Gareth was not known for keeping his temper, but he also wasn’t keen on getting his ass kicked this early in the day if Harrington took offense.
And considering they had all finally caught a look at Hargrove, and the way he fucking stopped and turned on his heel the second he saw Harrington, there was no doubt in Gareth’s mind that Harrington could kick his ass.
Even in his current, beaten to shit state.
Eddie huffed a dramatic breath, making sure at least some of his hair moved with it, but stood nonetheless.
“I’ll return shortly, friends!” He called jovially, before letting himself be dragged backwards several feet.
Just fair enough away where they could still see the table, but not be heard.
Particularly not by any invading jocks.
“What were you thinking!?” Gareth started, hands crossed over his chest tightly. “You didn’t even talk to us first!”
“Garebear, look at him.” Eddie said, placing both hands on his friend's face, turning it to look at Steve’s hunched form.
“Those big, sad, puppy-dog eyes.” Eddie continued, leaning in to whisper in Gareth’s ear. “The pathetic way he slouches.”
Eddie leaned even closer, lips tickling Gareth’s ear and making the latter swat at him.
He dropped his hands to Gareth’s shoulders, shaking him lightly.
“His giant empty house we can use for Hellfire meetings.”
“Is that seriously why you dragged him over here?” Gareth demanded, a little louder than he’d meant too, if Eddie’s abruptly tight grip was anything to go by.
“Of course not.” Eddie scoffed. “Rumor has it the guy throws money around for his friends and if we play our cards right, we can be the receiving end of that gravy train.”
Eddie grinned theatrically while he said it, staring into Gareth’s eyes like his smile alone would convince him to play along.
It was the fakest thing Gareth had ever seen on his best friends face.
“Don’t bullshit me man.” He said quietly, eyes narrowed. “What’s the actual reason you decided to go against your own doctrine and adopt Steve Harrington, of all people?”
Eddie’s eyes flicked to Harrington and back. “There’s no other--”
“Eddie.” Gareth snapped, a flash of his temper breaking through. “You’re my best friend. Don’t fucking lie to me like that.”
“Has anyone told you you’ve been using the word ‘fuck’ a lot, Gare?” Eddie muttered, but it was more subdued, the playful mask falling from his face.
As a matter of fact, Ms. Click had called him out on it that very morning, but Gareth knew better than to admit that and derail this conversation.
“Edwin Dale Munson.” Gareth growled, enjoying the way Eddie flinched from his full, government name.
“Sssh!” Eddie dropped his hands from Gareth’s shoulder to wave them in his face. “Fine, fine, look. Rumor has it he got cheated on, blew up his friendship with Hateful Hagan and Cocky Carol, and then took a beating from Hargrove. All in the same like, week.”
Eddie tugged at his hair, the movement harsh.
“I found him walking home in the dark the other day. Said something was wrong with his car, but Gareth.” Eddie paused, gnawing on his lower lip, before he stopped close once again, voice barely above a whisper.
“I had to coax him in my car and when he got in he kept flinching.”
“Flinching.” Gareth repeated.
“Like I was gonna hit him or something.” Eddie explained. “Worse Harrington’s house was dark when I got home. I mentioned to Wayne it didn’t look like anybody lived there and he said he was surprised anyone did. He thought the Harrington’s moved.”
“Okay.” Gareth said, not quiet following this part of the conversation.
“He thought they moved because some coworker of his wife worked for them as a house keeper or some shit. Said they bought a place in Chicago. She helped them pack.”
Another look, but this time Gareth had picked up on what was happening.
The flinching.
Not going with his parents.
Staying in Hawkins, when Harrington had a chance to get the hell out.
It didn’t paint a pretty picture.
“Shit.” Gareth said finally.
Eddie nodded. “Exactly.”
Together, they turned to stare at Harrington, who had hunched further into himself now that Eddie was gone from the table.
“If he turns on us I’m blaming you.” Gareth grumbled finally, and tried not to let the smile that broke out on Eddie’s face effect him.
“Glad to hear you’re on board, Garebear.” Eddie said, patting his shoulder hard.
“You’re a fucking teddy bear, you know that right?” Gareth continued as they turned to walk back to the table.
“Shut your mouth.” Eddie fired back.
“I don't think I will. In fact, Harrington!” Gareth spoke the jock’s name loudly, making the dude jerk and spill some of his soup.
Bruised eyes looked up at him and Gareth fired a smug right into Harrington’s face. “Wouldn’t you agree that Eddie here is a giant teddy bear?”
“Don’t answer that.” Eddie cut in, as Harrington blinked slowly, a puzzled look overtaking his face. “Gareth here has a big imagination.”
“Let the man give his own opinions. I’m sure he has some!”
Steve looked between them.
“I think I’ll plead the fifth.” He decided on.
“Smart man.” Jeff muttered, causing the rest of the table to snicker.
For the first time since he sat down, Gareth witnessed a small smile appear on Harrington’s face.
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I honestly love the clothing styles of each of the turtles in this show and I love how these styles really incorporate their personalities as well.
Like, obviously Donnie has the best sense of style, yeah? Think that’s something pretty agreed upon here. Everything we see him put together is very meticulously crafted and clean. That goes with his personality because Donnie is a very meticulous person in general, and he knows what he likes very, very well, and knows how to flaunt it in turn. Him commenting on colors he enjoys or disapproving of outfits that the others see no problem with also shows how he just generally has an eye for this kind of thing. He doesn’t just know what looks good on himself, but also what looks good on others - and I think this ties into his love of gift giving too. Donnie also has a flair for making sure that his things have his “mark” on them, and his clothing is no exception. All that he wears and how he wears them screams “Donnie.”
Mikey is really fun because his styles are honestly a pendulum between super simplistic and incredibly out there. And often, you’re going to see a lot of color or patterns to both. And in my opinion I think that all reflects really well on Mikey’s character - he’s got a colorful personality but even more than that he’s incredible sure of who he himself is. Mikey’s style, I feel, is less what looks good as clothes and more what sparks joy in Mikey himself. His bright stickers he wears are a testament of that! He’s comfortable in his own skin and his style reflects this perfectly, whether he goes for a more out-there look or a more toned down one.
Now, for Leo. Okay, I think I’m actually in the minority here I feel because Leo’s style isn’t really that bad? Hear me out- if you actually look at what he wears, try taking out, like, one accessory. Suddenly, that outfit works! He even manages to put together many good outfits in the series, but his “bad” ones are the ones that tend to stand out, alas (just like how his mistakes tend to be big ones oop-) Basically, my personal look at him is not that he’s inept at styling at all, but that he has a “too much” gene. And like everyone else, this sense of style is completely like him, too. Going too far to impress when all he needed to do was slow it down some to think things through. (And funnily enough, a lot of his outfits take random aspects from his brothers too - “nothing without them” huh?)
For Raph, I feel bad for him since pretty much all of his clothes are inevitably going to be ripped, but he makes them work pretty much each time. Like Leo, Raph tends to go more sporty with his looks, but I also noticed that his stuff often goes in that in between of comfy, cool, and cute. His pajama suit in particular comes to mind in terms of “cute” as it’s more something you’d see younger children in rather than older kids, and I think it can be a subtle nod to the fact that for all Raph tries to seem older, he’s still just a kid too.
I could probably go on, but these are just all off the top of my head - I love how the boys’ personality’s come out in so many different ways.
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random tim thoughts. i have been thinking about him a lot lately
- gets flustered SO easily,,, tease him even slightly and that’s it. he’s bright red. stuttering. thinking ab it for the rest of the day.
- speaking of stuttering: had a really bad stutter as a kid. got put in speech therapy and now it’s mostly gone but it does come back slightly when he’s upset/stressed
- either has the most horrific, realistic, fear-inducing nightmares or unhinged fever dreams. like it’s either “i just watched faceless shadow figures tear into jay and hang his guts on the wall then i had to run but i couldn’t so they did it to me next” or “i had to rescue lady gaga who was also the queen of norway from an evil piece of toast then we made out”
- secretly enjoys ABBA (would rather die than admit it)
- COLLECTS VINYLS you cannot tell me this man isn’t a vinyl elitist. keeps them neatly organised and will pitch a fit if you even breathe on them wrong
- writes a shit ton of lyrics that’ll never see the light of day. it’s basically his version of writing poetry
- went to college for music composition but never put out any of the stuff he wrote (he thought people wouldn’t like it), it’s all kept on usb sticks in the attic tho cause he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of all the songs he poured his young little heart and soul into
- can fall asleep anywhere anytime during the day, but the MOMENT he gets into bed at night. he’s awake. cant sleep. not happening.
- generalised anxiety disorder i’m not elaborating
- overthinks every interaction he ever has
- however. he’s also a stubborn bastard. communicates in sarcasm and affectionate insults
- has the most beautiful, deep, rich singing voice... such a warm baritone. think david le'aupepe from Gang of Youths
- snores like an old man he literally sounds like a freight train
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