AO3 | @steddiebingo round 2 prompt: lecture | @steddiebingo 13 fright nights event prompt: make up | rating: t | wc: 909 | cw: slight allusions to a deadbeat parent | tags: post s2/pre s3; pre-steddie; steve is assigned to tutor eddie; o'donnell wants them both to graduate; hopeful ending | masterlist
"Edward Munson, I'm disappointed in you."
Eddie scoffs, arms crossed, legs stretched out under the desk, one bouncing obsessively. His voice is thick with sarcasm as he responds. "Join the club, O'Donnell. We meet every Wednesday from--"
She slams a paper on his desk. "Cut the shit, Edward."
Eddie blinks back at her stunned, legs going still. He glances down at the paper, then back at her, eyebrows slightly furrowed. "What--"
"We both know you know this material. You're not an idiot, much as you like people to believe."
Eddie raises his brows.
"You're smart. So stop wasting that to prove a point that no one here is ever going to hear."
“Wow, thanks.” He monotones. “Aren’t you supposed to, like,” waves his hands around, “encourage me as my teacher? Not beat me down?”
She leans in, drops her voice slightly. "You want to make change in this world?"
Eddie blinks, eyes wide. He drops his hands to his desk, nods slightly.
"Then get out of here with your degree and spread your shit to people who listen."
She straightens out, beckons her hand to the doorway. "Come on, Steven."
Eddie snaps his head over, watches as Steve fucking Harrington walks into the room, shoulders hunched slightly, head cast down.
Eddie straightens up, legs pulled in. His mouth drops, a choked laugh tumbling into the stilted quiet. "The hell is this? You sentencing me to jock enrichment time?"
"Language, Edward. And Steven here is going to be working with you to help you pass this exam."
"You-- you're giving me a tutor?” He scoffs, eyes wide. “Steve Harrington is my tutor?"
Steve raises his hand, sheepishly wiggles his fingers, his eyes barely meeting Eddie's before darting away.
"Steven here is one of my brightest students. He--"
Eddie can't stop the cackle that tumbles out of him. A full body one that sends his head rolling back, his hands clapping in front of him. “That’s great, O’Donnell.”
O'Donnell scowls at him. Steve shrinks further into himself.
"Edward Alan Munson, you listen to me and you listen good."
Eddie stops, rights himself, narrows his eyes. "Don't fucking call me that."
O'Donnell leans forward, taps his desk. "Then don't act like him."
Eddie grits his teeth, swallows back the anger.
“We both know you know better than anyone not to judge people like this.”
Eddie looks down, fingers gripping the edge of his desk tightly.
“Are we clear?”
He glances at O’Donnell, then over at Steve who’s perched close by on a desk, arms fully wrapped around his middle, hunched nearly in half, head cast down. Eddie feels a pang of sympathy for the guy, has seen him tumbling further down the social ladder since last Fall. He shouldn’t give a shit, but he, unfortunately, does. Something about sympathy and caring about others and wanting to protect. Goddamnit.
“Yeah. Yeah, we’re clear.” Eddie nods, stretches out his leg and taps Steve’s leg with his boot softly. “Sorry, Harrington. You’re probably better than I am at this stuff.”
Steve looks up in shock, un-hunching ever so slightly. He blinks, stammers slightly. “Yeah, uh – thanks man.”
“Good.” She leans back, gestures at Steve. "Now, Steven here is one of my brightest students. He also needs another credit to pass due to skipping out so much last quarter." She shifts a glare toward Steve. He grumbles what sounds like an apology, scuffs his shoe against the dirty tile.
"So, Steven is going to spend the next week with you, Edward, tutoring you so you can make up this exam and pass. If all goes well, you’ll both get what you need."
Eddie blinks, his brows raised far behind his bangs. "Wait, you-- you're letting me retake the exam?"
"Consider it an olive branch. I'd rather not see you in this room again next year." O'Donnell waves her hand, barely contains a smile as she walks toward the door. "Now, get to work gentlemen. You'll have my room for the 1 o'clock hour every day this week. Your make-up exam is Friday."
She stops in the doorway, hand perched on the handle. “And, gentlemen?”
They both look at her, eyes wide and attentive.
“Don’t disappoint me.” With that, she leaves, the door clicking shut with a deafening thud.
Steve scoffs. “No pressure there, huh?”
Eddie stares stunned at the door, half waiting for her to come back and say it's all a joke, that he still has to repeat senior year for a third time. But, as each second ticks past, the reality of it all starts setting in.
He gets another chance.
Steve coughs, wrings his hands a bit. "So..."
Eddie blinks at him. Looks down at the study guide O'Donnell left. Back at Steve. Can’t decide if it’s more unbelievable that he gets to make up the exam or that Steve is tutoring him. At this point, though, Eddie really has nothing else to lose. He gets a week of tutoring from the prettiest guy he’s ever seen. Should be fun, at least.
So, he leans forward, flashes a sincere smile, gestures at the chair beside him. "So, you a history wizard, Harrington?"
The corner of Steve's lips twitch a bit as he gets up, slides into the chair. He turns full bodied towards Eddie, props his elbow on the desk. A smile sneaks onto his perfect, gorgeous face. "Something like that."
"Well, work your magic, sweetheart. Get us both out of this hellhole."
Sherlolly Appreciation Week- Day 1, Sunday, March 24th- Canon Compliant Idea
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Happy Sherlolly Week, all! I’ve got some one-shots planned for this week and I’m kicking it off with one today that also fills a prompt I’ve had saved on my phone forever. This is a song prompt from @artisticnerd221b for “That’s the Way I Loved You” by Taylor Swift. Apologies that it’s taken me an age to get to this! And let me know your AO3 name when you can, so I can gift the fic to you. 😉
@paperbeliefs-carloabay this is all your fault. take responsibility for the multichapter practice kissing fic i've written now.
*******
Who Kissed Dupain Cheng?
Everybody once again turned to Marinette. Adrien looked at her curiously – sincerely hoping that he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been kissed yet.
“Um,” she said, and she looked perfectly adorable. “I kissed a friend of mine from outside of school.”
There was a silence.
“Who?” demanded Alya.
“Wait, you don’t know either?” asked Adrien.
Marinette was blushing till the ends of her hair. “It was outside of school! And not important.”
Not important. Adrien wondered who Marinette could have kissed that was not important.
*******
inspired by @anika-thestollsister's incorrect quote, found HERE. EXTREMELY inspired by @theluckiestlb's How could it end up like this (thats where the practice kissing is going to come in).
There was a monster out tonight. And not just any monster, Steve thought, eyes scanning over the snow-coated shapes of trees looming in the night, it’s the kind of monster that will kill me if I stop.
The words were peculiarly clear in Steve’s mess of a brain, warring between the sheer panic of a late-night attack, and the calm exhaustion of giving up and dying. He <em>knew</em> they were gone; had gone back to the lab like everyone else at one point just to see the wall that used to be the gate.
But that never stopped the feeling like something was <em>watching</em> him, and he was sick to death of the twisty-turny <em>squirrelly</em> feeling itching at the back of his head most nights. Patrolling was the only thing that kept it at bay, for short periods of time, so he’s out here, and he’s looking for monsters, and he hoped to god that if he found one, he might actually be smart enough to kill it.
He was expecting demodogs, but what he found was Billy. Shaking and shivering and looking half-dead.
Steve cursed, jumping out of his car, taking in Billy’s split lip and wavering form.
Billy slurred through his chattering teeth, “Stevie? What the fuck?”
Steve wanted to ask that very same thing. “Jesus, man, you’re frozen! What are you <em>doing</em> out here?”
Billy sneered like he was a professional at it. “What’s it to you, pretty boy?”
Steve gritted his teeth, trying not to let out a very incredulous scream. A particularly icy gust rushed over them, and Billy shivered violently. Steve thought that he could actually see his body temperature falling. Billy wasn’t exactly dressed for the weather—just his denim jacket over a thick shirt.
“Alright,” Steve said. “That’s it. Get in the car.”
Billy raised his eyebrows. <em>“Why</em> should I?”
“Because you’ll freeze to death if you don’t,” Steve snapped. “In the car, Hargrove.”
Billy raised his chin, like he was going to protest—because <em>of course</em> he was—but Steve didn’t let him, crowding uncomfortably close, laying his warm hand on Billy’s frigid cheek. It felt like ice. Billy flinched, drawing back slightly. Steve moved closer, breath ghosting over Billy’s lips, trying not to notice the green-blue of his eyes, how he imagined that they were the exact color of the ocean on a sunny day.
“Get in the car,” he whispered, not nicely.
Billy got in the car.
When they got back to Steve’s place, it was apparent that there was more wrong with Billy than just near-frostbite. He moved with an odd sort of shuffling stumble, ginger and soft. Steve frowned at him.
Billy raised a belligerent eyebrow. “So, Harrington? You got me alone.”
It was obviously supposed to be a dig couched in flirty words. That was Billy’s main modus operandi when it came to Steve—flirtatious come-ons said so aggressively that they sounded like insults.
“You need to dry off,” Steve said, “I’ll get you something warm to wear.”
“I’m not taking my clothes off,” Billy snapped.
“Yes, you are,” Steve stepped closer, feeling like he was looming over Billy. There was something that seemed small about him. Vulnerable.
Steve wasn’t usually one to initiate space-sharing. No, that was Billy’s role in their relationship—hip-checks in the hall and grinding during gym. But Steve was just really done with Billy’s bullshit tonight.
“I’m not letting you freeze to death in my house, Hargrove.” He tugged at the hem of Billy’s shirt. It was soft and worn and thick under his fingertips. “Off.”
He didn’t wait for Billy to comply, instead turning and marching up the stairs. When he got back downstairs, sweats and a thick comfy sweater in hand, Billy was shirtless in his living room, looking like he was about to murder somebody. A distant part of Steve’s brain noticed his expression and was alarmed, but Steve pushed it aside. He liked not being afraid of Billy, if only for a little while.
There was a stark bruise forming over Billy’s solar plexus, looking fist-shaped. Another on his stomach, bigger and meaner.
Billy’s face twisted when he noticed Steve looking.
“What happened?”
“None of your <em>fucking</em> business, Harrington,” Billy snarled, pushing right up in Steve’s face. And just like that, their normal dynamics were restored.
“It looks like it hurts,” Steve said, quieter than he meant to be.
“It doesn’t,” Billy snapped.
Steve snorted, shoving the clothes into his hands. “I’ll get something for it while you change.”
He darted to the upstairs bathroom, taking his time a bit so that Billy would have some privacy to shuck his snow-soaked clothes. When he returned, Billy was looking a bit like a drowned rat, wet hair limp from the moisture outside, snowflakes nearly all melted and ruining any volume he might’ve achieved. His jeans were in a heap by his feet, sweats tugged over his hips, bunching because they were slightly too long. His expression twisted in a deep scowl; he was still shirtless.
Steve popped open the tin of balm in his hands. He had gotten it after his fight with Billy, finding that it helped with soreness and swelling. He dipped two fingers in, scooping up some, and then reached out, smearing the balm over the bruises. Billy flinched. His skin was, a little surprisingly, hot like a furnace under Steve’s fingertips. Steve rubbed it in, trying to ignore the fact that Billy had <em>crazy</em> muscle definition. Steve stepped back, wordlessly recapping the tin. A muscle popped in Billy’s jaw as he gritted his teeth, but he didn’t say anything. He just pulled Steve’s sweater over his head. It was thick knit fabric, worked in a cable pattern, ordered from Ireland. It was one of Steve’s coziest and warmest sweaters. It leant Billy a strangely homey vibe, like he was getting ready to settle in for the night after a long day of doing—something. Steve cut himself off, trying not to think about how, even in shapeless sweats, Billy still looked like a model.
“Fire’s in the den,” Steve murmured, voice thick.
Billy sneered. “You keep a fire going when you’re not home?”
“It’s gas, asshat,” Steve snapped, storming ahead and flipping the key to get the fire started. It blazed to life with a <em>whoosh.</em>
He heard shuffling behind and saw Billy still doing that ginger-walk into the room, eyes darting everywhere. He immediately looked at the fire, and—reluctantly, Steve saw—went over to it. But it was clear real damn fast that no matter how much Billy didn’t like needing anything, he needed warmth. His skin, still cold, was gaining a slight flush from the fire. Billy sunk down in front of it, looking oddly young. Steve supposed it was his feet—they were bare, tucked under him as he kneeled. It made him look about five years old and gave Steve the strange urge to go get him a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows and whip cream.
Steve didn’t, instead sitting in one of the chairs and leaning his head into his palm. He was irrevocably tired, as he always was, and the warm fire combined with the fact that he wasn’t alone was enough to push him—unwillingly, teeth-gnashingly—into slumber.
Headcanon: Jonathan introduces El to Kate Bush’s music and Kate Bush becomes one of El’s favorite music artists (along with Cyndi Lauper and David Bowie)
Summary: Allura doesn’t know what Christmas is and now she is determined to reenact the Nativity scene.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Night had long since fallen on the ship for team Voltron. Not in the literal sense at they were in space, but Allura had managed to sink up the ship's time with a usual 24 hour Earth day to account for the proper amount of sleep that they paladins required to optimise their abilities.
To them, it was around nine or ten p.m. and the gang was still up and lively, sharing a traditional Altean drink, going back and forth discussing other weird traditions that both countries celebrated.
“We too celebrate the day we were born, but chanting around an inflamed object until a wish is granted seems, as your Earth religion would say, awfully satanic if you ask me.” Exclaimed Allura, stifling a laugh with her hand as Hunk tried to explain the process of singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to the two Alteans on board.
“Ok, ok, fine,” Interrupts Lance, coming to the conclusion that they would never be able to articulate to their Princess that it was a folklore and it was just a fun thing to believe in, that wasn’t a God or afterlife. “How about Christmas?”
“Oh, Hunk has told me about Christmas!” She claps her hands together excitedly, “As I recall it is another part of your Earth religion to celebrate the Son of you God’s birthday. Do you chant around fire for him too?” She tilted her head, changing her expression into a look of intrigue.
“Not exactly… Oh! But in your first year of school you get to reenact it. Come on guys,” Lance looked around to all of the other paladins, “You all must have done it when you were little! I got to be Jesus.” He says in a smooth, smug tone like he was bragging about getting the lead in a movie.
“That sounds like fun!” Allura is still on the edge of her seat. “My favourite part of growing up was putting on plays with the other children of the Lords and Ladies for our parents. Do you think you could show us how to do one, and reenact it now?” Allura asked, the nostalgia from her home planet still lingering in her eyes.
Lance couldn’t possibly turn down her request and looked to the other paladin’s pleading with his eyes to them. Hunk shrugged his shoulders and sighed, answering for all of them.
“I guess we’re in. Where can we get some sheets, rope and a basket.” He stood up, placing his glass back onto the table. Allura and Lance’s eyes both lit up, mouths open in anticipation.
“Oh my God! Dibs on being Jesus… The star makes a comeback.” Lance pumps his firsts in the air in celebration as the team all stand up, arguing over who they want to play and explaining to the Altean crew what the in’s and out’s of the story were.
They were just about to head down to their Nativity location when Lance noticed that Keith was still yet to stand.
“Come on Keith, you have to join us. Don’t be a buzzkill.” He whined.
Keith crossed his arms. “I never said I wouldn’t, I can’t you tell how excited I am?” He said with the least enthusiasm that could be deemed humanly possible. Lance’s smile dropped as he was having a hard time reading Keith’s true intentions through his blank expression.
However, Keith couldn’t keep up his facade for long as a smile began to crack on his lips, slowly turning into a full toothy grin.
“Oh my God, man! I can’t believe you actually fell for that!” He burst into laughter and Lance scowled at him.
“Why am I friends with you.” He said bluntly, but the red paladin new that it wasn’t meant to be taken to heart.
“ But I am up for it, you’ll just have to tell me what to do. I’ve… never gotten to do one before.” He lowered his head sheepishly, expecting Lance to make an over-dramatised scene about it.
“Not a problem, my buddy, I know just how to make the perfect cow costume for you.” The blue paladin beamed unexpectedly.
“Why am I friends with you?” Keith mimicked bluntly.
***
And that is how Team Voltron ended up in the training room in the early hours in the morning, wrapped in sheets and ropes in a holographic horse stable.
Allura played the proudest Mary, and Lance got to fulfill his wish of playing Jesus. Shiro made a fine looking Joseph and Hunk and Coran, as well as the mice, filled in as the wise men and shepherds.
Keith also got to be the cow.
“Pidge that isn’t what an angle looks like!” Yelled Hunk from the ground as the smaller green paladin was hovering in the air above them, suspended to the roof by a rope, forming the shape of a star with her body, stiff as a board as she swung slightly from left to right.
“I can be who I wanna be and you can’t stop me.” She screeched, clearly having the time of her life, which seemed completely out of character for the usual tech gremlin.
“Hey Allura,” said Lance, smirk across his face, “I think we need to act out the part where I come up from between-”
“LANCE!!!” The group chorused.
“IT WAS A JOKE!”
_________________________
This the was the most well-structures and properly formatted pice of shit I cave ever fathomed.
Mary never ceases to be an interesting character to me. She has the opportunity to be a great and memorable villain - almost as much as Moriarty, in my opinion. Season 4 was a let down in so many ways, but one of the biggest let downs was Mary. Regardless of whatever the fuck season 4 told us about her, I don’t think that she should be limited to an ex-assassin turned housewife, and I definitely don’t think she should’ve been giving that weird redemption arc.
So I wrote my own background for her. Well, I didn’t write most of it, tbh. I combined most of her background from these three brilliant sources:
1. Miss Hudson (@the-7-percent-solution)
2. AGRA (@wellthengameover)
3. Mary’s Background (@wellthengameover)
I tried to give credit where credit is due. Let me know if I need to change anything.
Her life chronological order:
“Mary” was born in Florida in 1979 to Frank Hudson (Mrs. Hudson’s husband. However, Mary is not her child).
Around the late 1990s / early 2000s, Sherlock Holmes spent the summer in America. “While he was there a grisly double-murder caused the local law enforcement great trouble. They couldn’t convict the man – he was about to walk free. This was, of course, until Sherlock Holmes offered his deductions and testified in court. Frank Hudson, ruthless criminal, philanderer, and drug dealer, was sentenced to death. However, there was one person Sherlock did not mean to cross – Frank Hudson’s daughter from another woman, [Mary]” (1). She lost all of her wealth and power from the cartel, leaving her “penniless and abandoned.”
From that day on, she swore to get revenge on Sherlock when the opportunity arose. She knew that Sherlock was a very talented detective, so she decided to join the CIA in order to try to take him down.
During her training in the CIA, she learned about Jim Moriarty and contacted him. They stay in touch.
Eastern Europe 2010
The Eastern European government has a Thing (basically a more-real version of the key code from TRF. More info on that here). (3)
“Mary investigates the Thing for the CIA. To establish a cover, she dates someone whose family is peripherally connected to the Thing - Barry Berwick (the prisoner from beginning of TGG) from the Waters Family (the bank robbers that Lestrade couldn’t catch at the beginning of TSoT). She possibly rises quite high in the Waters Family.” (3)
“Four intelligence agents band together and steal the Thing from the Eastern European government to sell on the black market” (3). However, before they can sell the Thing and escape…
“Jim Moriarty reaches out to Mary, and she agrees to become a CIA mole and help Jim steal the Thing (from the three agents) and then work for Jim.” (3)
She tries to kill the other three AGRA agents (in disguise), but she only manages to kill one. However, now that the Thing is gone, everyone thinks that it’s destroyed, but actually, Jim has it, and it’s in still in Eastern Europe. Now the Three want to kill her.
She fakes her death with David’s (Mary’s ex from TSoT) help by framing Barry for her murder. Now the Waters Family is after her. She moves to England and works for Jim.
Somewhere in England end of 2010-beginning of 2013
Mary dates David (also, David is her confidante)
Mary is M from TBB
Mary helps Moriarty in TGG
2012 - post TRF
“Jim gave Mary a flash drive and said “If your cover’s ever blown, tell John to read this flash drive and it will explain everything away.” So Mary popped it in her computer and checked it out. It showed a great lie about her work for the CIA. Perfect.
“Moriarty knew when he gave the flash drive to Mary that Sherlock wasn’t dead, and he knew Mary’s cover wasn’t going to be blown until Sherlock returned; John wasn’t going to figure it out. That flash drive isn’t for John; it’s for Sherlock. It’s information Jim wants Sherlock to have. The flash drive is a clue to Sherlock from Jim in addition to Mary’s fake CIA information.” (2)
After that, Mary is introduced to the show, and the rest is history.
In the end, Mary is fueled by good old-fashioned revenge.
