#he also has ridiculous shiny luck i think. god blessed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

css1992 · 4 years ago

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could u do more high school au's pls? I was thinking maybe rich popular peter who seems untouchable and then grungy tony who just doesnt care for appearances and hes been pining after peter his whole school life

could u make it so that tony is rich and everyone knows it but he just doesn't care about his money and doesnt act rich so it's one of those things that u know but dont acknowledge. also if tony's daddy issues made an appearance id be so happy ty.

I’m so sorry for the delay, but I really do hope this scratches your itch!

***

He had that sort of beauty that almost hurt to look at. So pure and soft. Pink cheeks, small eyes that squinted when he laughed – which was often –; brown, wavy hair, so shiny and silky-looking; thin, pink lips, always stretched in a smile. He had the most beautiful smile Tony had ever seen, too. Honest and wide, happy.

He was never alone. Of course he wasn’t. He was too magnetic, there were always people drawn to his light, following him around, laughing at his jokes, making him laugh in return. Everyone seemed to want a piece of him, a scrap of his attention. And he, being the lovely human being that he was, made room for anyone who wished to bask in his light.

Jocks liked him. Peter was great at team sports, he was light on his feet and good with his hands. He wasn’t in any teams, though, claimed he didn’t have the time, but he was always picked first in P.E. group activities. Tony knew, watched him at practice way too often – from a distance, of course, as he did his stretches and sit-ups with Rhodes.

Nerds liked him, too. He was really smart, an asset to the Decathlon team, and was always willing to help anyone having trouble in class. Even the weirdos from drama club, glee club and the school band loved him – he never made fun of them, on the contrary, he was always very vocal about how talented they were and how he wished he could be a part of their clubs, too.

Girls swooned at him. He was kind and sweet, a good listener, and gorgeous. Guys weren’t immune to his charms, either. The ones Tony knew for a fact that were gay or bi didn’t even try to pretend they didn’t watch him when he walked down the halls, but even supposedly straight guys, like Steve Rogers, sneaked a peek now and then, face flushed, if he was wearing specially tight jeans.

Tony was jealous of all those people, but he learned to deal with it. He’d been, well, admiring him from a distance for years. He was used to seeing people make passes at him, ask him out. Peter was discreet, though. If he ever dated anyone, nobody ever heard anything about it. He was a mystery, Tony wasn’t even sure if he was gay, straight, bi or whatever – there were rumors that he had made out with Wade Wilson in freshman year, but neither of them confirmed or denied it. Tony hated the guy anyway.

“If you keep staring, people are gonna know you’re in love and not actually dead inside,” Rhodey spoke up right next to him, taking a huge bite of his tuna sandwich. Tony averted his gaze from Peter’s table for a minute and looked at his friend, annoyed. “It’s gonna ruin your whole aesthetic.”

“Very funny,” He rolled his eyes and looked back at Peter. There were so many people around him he could barely catch a glimpse of his smile, which was annoying.

His dad’s company, Parker Innovations, had just released a new phone a few weeks earlier, it was ridiculous how many people thought they could get one for free if they kissed his ass hard enough. At least Tony didn’t have to endure that kind of nonsense anymore. People in that school learned very early on that even though he was related to Howard Stark, he wanted nothing to do with the guy – or his company, or his money. They also learned sucking up to him did nothing but annoy him, so they kind of just forgot he existed over time and he blended right in with everyone else – a blessing in its own right.

“Rhodey is right, you’re drooling, it’s a little embarrassing,” Natasha looked at him with boredom as she nibbled on her fries. “You should just ask him out, you’ve been pining for ages.”

“I’m not pining,” he huffed, irritated, and the redhead smirked, raising a perfectly manicured brow.

“Right, yearning might be more accurate. Bruce?” She glanced at their other friend who scratched his chin, pretending to think about it.

“I think obsessing sounds more like it. Rhodey?”

“Fuck you guys,” he barked before they could keep the game going, and all three laughed at him. Someone got up from Peter’s table and he caught a glimpse of his beautiful face, their eyes made contact for half a second and Tony looked away.

“No, but seriously, Tones. Just go talk to him, he’s a great guy, I’m sure he wouldn’t be an ass about it.” Bruce adjusted his glasses and said that like it was simple. Like he would have the guts to do it if he was in Tony’s position – he wouldn’t, he’d pined for Thor, an exchange student, for a year, and never worked up the courage to ask him out. The guy went back to Norway or whatever and Bruce never even said hi to him.

“I know, of course he wouldn’t, but I don’t wanna be one of those people begging for his attention, just look at that.” He pointed at the little crowd around him, people were almost literally fighting for his attention, the poor guy could barely finish his lunch. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you’re not them,” Natasha said that like it was the most obvious thing in the world and Tony frowned.

“How am I different?”

“You’re a certified genius, you and him have similar interests and you look hot in a ‘I’m gonna fuck you raw in the back of my car’ kinda way. I don’t know, maybe he’s into that.” The redhead shrugged, again, saying all that like it was obvious and an unquestionable truth.

“Yeah, right, sounds just like him,” Tony scoffed.

Peter was perfect in so many ways – perfect face, perfect body, perfect grades, Tony was sure he pooped out candy or something – of course he wouldn’t go for a guy like him. He had a bad reputation, he was in detention more often than not and people in general considered him an asshole – all because he didn’t partake in their little games of social climbing or whatever. No, Peter wouldn’t go for his grungy ass. He’d probably go for all American, apple pie, boy-next-door Steve Rogers.

“No, she’s right, I’ve seen him looking at you several times.” Bruce pointed out, not for the first time, and Tony scoffed.

“Oh, yeah? When?”

“AP chemistry class. I’m his lab partner, remember?” How could Tony forget? As Mr. Erskine called out their names, Tony prayed to a God he didn’t even believe in that he’d be paired up with Peter, but no such luck. “He stares at you whenever he has a chance or an excuse. You know, when you blow things up, for example.”

“Yeah, which is why he must stare, he must be afraid for his life.” Tony hated to admit that he was way more prone to causing explosive accidents when Peter was in the room. It was fucking embarrassing.

He sighed, drinking the last of his coke. No matter what his friends said, he knew he didn’t stand a chance with Peter. He was… Untouchable. He was too good for him, Tony wasn’t even sure he’d want to taint him if he had a chance – no, scratch that, he definitely would.

He chose to watch him from afar, allowing himself a few fantasies and daydreams. He had this really stupid and lame one, where he walked up to Peter in the hall, people just parted to let him through, then he gave him his trademark, lopsided grin and asked him out. Peter smiled brightly up at him, holding his books to his chest, cheeks flushed, eyelashes fluttering as he whispered a shy “yes” and leaned up to kiss him. Yeah. That was the whole fantasy.

Peter was so untouchable to him that he didn’t even dare to dream further than that. Of course when he was alone in his room, late at night, relieving himself, a few… less pure fantasies popped up unsolicited, but he felt so guilty then, dirty even, like he was disrespecting him somehow. It was all very confusing, but he still came, shamefully, to the thought of his beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure as dream-Tony fucked him.

The bell rang and everyone hurried to get to their next period, Peter was no different, he gathered his things and stood up, looking around the cafeteria like he was looking for someone. Their eyes met again for a second, but Tony quickly looked away, grabbing his backpack in a hurry to leave.

It was Thursday, the worst day of the week for him, none of his friends were free to hang out with him until later, so he either had to head home and deal with Howard or he had to find somewhere to be for a couple of hours, until Rhodey was done with football practice so they could go to his place. That day, Tony decided to just stay by his car, smoking a cigarette and singing along to Black Sabath’s Iron Man, it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go. He was so distracted watching the smoke dissipate into thin air that he didn’t notice when someone approached, and jumped almost a foot in the air when they spoke.

“Aren’t you afraid of getting caught smoking on school grounds?” Tony almost dropped dead when he registered the angelic voice. He was already having a heart attack as it was, but the boy was so close and he had that beautiful smile in place, blushing cheeks and all. It took almost a full minute for him to calm himself down.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” The older teen answered when he finally found his voice and got his breath under control enough not to make a fool of himself. Peter smiled wider, biting his lower lip.

“Your secret is safe with me.” He fake whispered, leaning a little into the older boy’s space and he almost choked on nothing. Peter’s smell was inebriating, expensive and sweet, but not overly so – perfect. He recomposed himself quickly, though, and nodded, but didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t sure why Peter was talking to him and, frankly, he was too fucking nervous to think of anything cool to say. The younger teen deflated a little faced with Tony’s silence; he looked around, seeming a little lost. “You’re Tony, right?”

Fuck, the way he said his name. His name. It was fucking music to his ears, the most beautiful tune. But how did he even know his name? Sure, he was Tony Stark, so not really anonymous, but people often forgot about it.

“Yeah. And you’re Peter.” Tony didn’t play games, he didn’t even try to pretend like he didn’t know who Peter was. It would be dumb anyway, everybody knew him. The other boy nodded shyly, it looked like he wanted to say something else, but he kept biting his lips and looking around nervously. Tony frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“No. I mean, yeah, sure, it’s fine, it’s just, uhm. I have a flat tire and the wheel bolts are really tight and I couldn’t get them off, so I thought – I mean, could you, uh –“ He gestured wildly as he stuttered out his answer, looking in the general direction of his flashy, cherry red sports car. “I mean, it’s okay if you’re busy, but I –“

“Sure, I’ll help, don’t worry.” Tony threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it. He was a little more at ease now that he knew why Peter was talking to him – he just needed help – and the best thing was, Tony was really good with cars. Of course, one didn’t need to have a PhD in mechanics to change a tire, but it still made him feel really good that he would be able to help properly.

“Thanks, you’re a life saver.” The chirpy attitude was back, as well as the smile, it made Tony’s heart flutter. He nodded sharply, looking away from his face, and gestured for Peter to lead the way.

When they reached his car, Tony whistled lowly, crouching down to look at the completely flat tire, as he tried to find the source of the problem. He was surprised to notice a two-inch cut on the surface of it, and it didn’t seem accidental.

“Fuck, Peter, it looks like someone sliced your tire.” When he looked up at the younger boy, he didn’t look surprised, but nervous. It was an odd reaction. Tony wondered if Peter already knew that – maybe he knew who did it and was scared of them? It made Tony’s blood boil. Why would anyone do that to Peter?

“Wh-what? How do you know that?” He bit his lower lip nervously, scratching his arm, and Tony frowned, worried.

“Here, look.” He gestured for Peter to crouch down next to him and pointed at the cut. “This is clearly a stab mark. Judging by the size and shape of it, I’d say this was probably done with a pocketknife.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Clearly.” He face-palmed, like he felt stupid, maybe for not seeing it before, but Tony still worried.

“If you want, I could go with you to the administration. We can ask them to check the security cameras. I think that one might have caught whoever did this.” He pointed at a security camera nearby, Tony knew where all of them were in the parking lot area – he’d been caught smoking way too many times not to know.

“What? There are –? I mean, look, it’s okay, it’s probably just someone trying to play a prank, it’s no big deal, it’s fine.” He stood up quickly, shaking his head, and Tony was positive he felt threatened somehow, he was acting so weird.

“If you’re sure… But if you change your mind, I’ll go with you, ok?” Tony stood up and took off his leather jacket. The weather was nice, just a bit chilly, so he was wearing a thin, white t-shirt with short sleeves underneath. He thought he heard Peter’s breath hitch for a second, but it was probably just his imagination. “Can you hold this for me?” He held out his jacket and the boy blushed, blinking rapidly.

“S-sure.”

Tony bit his bottom lip to refrain from asking, again, if everything was fine. Peter looked so freaking nervous, he was even sweating a little at the temples. Tony was positive he knew who did that to his car, but didn’t want to tell him for some reason. Maybe he wanted to protect whoever did it, maybe it was a boyfriend, or an ex. He gritted his teeth, hands closing in fists, but didn’t say anything, just crouched down and got to work.

The first bolt came off easily, it wasn’t tight at all, so he thought maybe Peter had already loosened it when he tried earlier. The second and third ones came off just as easily, though, only the fourth one was a little trickier, but nothing the younger teen couldn’t have handled himself. Tony thought maybe he hadn’t tried too hard, maybe he was afraid the person who did that would show up or something. He was so glad he was there to help, he wondered if Peter felt safe with him around, and the thought made him feel oddly proud and protective of him.

He made quick work of changing the tires, making sure not to screw the bolts too tight, then put the sliced one in the trunk of the car. When he turned around to look at Peter, he was looking intently at him, almost hypnotized, holding his jacket close to his chest like it was a puppy.

“All done.” Tony smiled and the boy seemed to snap out of a trance.

“Oh, thank you so much, really, you’re too kind.” He smiled broadly and the older teen scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Don’t mention it.” They were silent for a few seconds after that, but Peter kept holding his jacket and didn’t make any move to give it back to him. “Uhm, could I–?” He gestured towards the jacket and again the boy jumped up in surprise.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, here.” He handed it to him and quickly crossed his empty arms over his chest. “So, uhm,… Your dad is having a gala this weekend, right? Are you gonna be there?” Ah, so Peter did know who he was, not just his first name. The older teen leaned against the car and stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugging.

“Not if I can help it.” He smirked, trying to act cool, but now that he didn’t have anything to do with his hands, he was growing nervous.

“Oh,” Peter looked… disappointed? He dropped his gaze to the floor, shuffling his feet, and Tony stood up straight, frowning.

“Why?”

“Nothing, it’s just – my parents are going, so I thought I’d tag along to, you know... but it’s okay.” He kicked an imaginary rock and avoided Tony’s eyes. The older teen stared at him with wide eyes, heart beating fast – what was the end of that sentence? Peter couldn’t possibly mean–

“I don’t – what, you’d go to, like, hang out with me or something?” He felt stupid when he stumbled on the words, but Peter didn’t seem to notice, his cheeks were burning red and he was looking anywhere else but at Tony.

“I mean, you must have much better things to do, of course, I was just –” He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head, finally looking up at Tony. “Sorry, just forget about it, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“No, wait!” He rushed to interrupt him and Peter looked back at him with huge, Bambi eyes. Tony coughed awkwardly, blushing a little. “I mean, like, uhm… If you – would you wanna go as my date? To the gala?” He blurted out, finally, because what the hell. The worst that could happen was Peter say no, and he could deal with it. He would survive, for sure. It wouldn’t be a big deal. Really. It wouldn’t.

But he didn’t say no, he smiled broadly, eyes twinkling in excitement.

“I’d love to!” He answered quickly, and Tony’s heart fluttered, Peter looked genuinely happy. “Could you – uhm, text me what color of tie you’ll be wearing? If you want! I understand if you think it’s lame, but I thought–”

“No, it’s fine.” His heart was beating so loud, Peter Fucking Parker wanted to coordinate ties with him, it was fucking corny and cliché and he loved it. “Uhm, here, give me your number.” He fished his phone from his back pocket and gave it to the younger teen.

“Cool.” Peter typed in his number and as soon as he gave his phone back, Tony sent him a smiley face so he would have his number, too. “Cool, cool, cool...” He rocked on the balls of his feet and looked around, like he was looking for something else to say.

“So… Do you have to be home soon or…?” Tony stuck his hands in his pockets again, wondering if maybe he was pushing his luck, but Peter shook his head quickly.

“Not really, no, my parents don’t really mind what time I get home as long as I let them know. You?”

“They don’t really care.” He shrugged, taking one step closer to Peter. “So… are you hungry, by any chance?”

“I’m starving.” He nodded, looking up at Tony in anticipation. It drove the butterflies in his stomach crazy.

“I know a place where they serve great burgers. We could go in my car and I could drop you off here on our way back, I’m just a little worried someone is gonna try to fuck up your car again. I mean, what if they’re targeting you or something?” Just the mention of what happened earlier made Peter nervous. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket and shook his head.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s fine.” He didn’t look worried, though, at least not anymore.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, trust me, I am.” Tony found the sudden change odd, but thought maybe he was just trying to play it cool, so he let it go.

“Okay, then, c’mon, my car is right there,” Tony gestured to his car and Peter smiled, taking his hands off his pockets. When he did, though, something slipped out and fell to the ground with a metallic noise. Tony quickly crouched down to get it for him, when he noticed what it was. “Wh – is that…?” He frowned, examining the pocketknife as if it was alien material. He was confused at first, because Peter didn’t seem like the kind of guy to carry one around, but then it dawned on him. When he looked at the younger teen, his face was so red it looked like he was about to explode.

“Uhm… If I told you I’ve never seen this before in my life would you believe it?” He chuckled nervously, scratching his arm, as Tony stood up. The older teen raised a brow at him.”Sorry, I just – I wanted an excuse to talk to you.” He said quietly, dropping his gaze.

“You know, you could have gone with the weather or whatever.” Tony answered, amused, and it made the younger boy look up at him.

“You’re just very intimidating,” He looked at him with huge, scared eyes, and Tony cocked his head to the side.

“Me?” He raised a brow.

“Yeah.” Peter answered pointedly, and Tony smirked, offering him his knife back.

“You do realize you just sliced your own tire so you’d have an excuse to talk to me, right? And I’m intimidating?” He joked, but Peter didn’t seem to find it funny. He winced and covered his face with his hands, clearly embarrassed.

“You must think I’m such a freak,” He groaned, voice muffled by his palms.

“Hey, hey, yes, I do think you’re a freak.” He grabbed Peter’s thin wrists and marveled at how perfectly they fit in his hands. He definitely saved that thought for later. “But you’re a really cute one.” He grinned and Peter chuckled, a delicate flush rising onto his cheeks.

“I feel stupid.” He admitted, worrying his bottom lip, but Tony shook his head, working up the nerve to cup Peter’s face in his hand.

“I feel flattered,” He said, honestly, and Peter’s breath hitched. He stared up at Tony, eyelashes fluttering, moist, pink lips slightly open. The older teen leaned down slowly and when the Peter closed his eyes, their lips touched. Just like in his fantasies, Peter tasted sweet, his lips were soft and his arms circled Tony’s neck in a warm embrace. When they parted, Tony smiled down at him, stroking his blushing cheek. “Just promise that if this doesn’t work out you won’t, like, key my car or something.”

“Oh, God,” he groaned, but they both laughed out loud, as they walked hand in hand across the parking lot.

#starker #high school au

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ruffsficstuffplace · 7 years ago

Text

And The AWRD Goes To... (Part 13)

“Say, Mother, won’t you tell me that story again?” Diana asked as she stood on the side of her mother’s bed, her beloved teddy bear nestled in her arm.

Bernadette smiled. “That tale you love so dearly? ‘The Wise Woman Beatrix.’”

“The hero who started the Cavendish family!” Diana cried, her eyes growing wide and bright.

“That’s right.” Bernadette smiled. She looked to the tapestry on the wall, depicting Beatrix with a mythical unicorn, the two of them surrounded by flourishing trees and plants. “And one of the greatest figures of the War.”

She read the inscription on it. “Sybilladura Lelladybura. ‘When traditional and modern powers mingle, the gate to an unseen world will open.’”

“Traditional and modern powers…?” Diana asked, looking at the tapestry with her mother.

Bernadette started coughing, her body visibly wracked with pain.

“Mother!” Diana cried, fear in her eyes.

“Diana...” Bernadette said as she put her hand atop her daughter’s own. “I believe that you can be the one to open that gate… you can create a new future for the Cavendish name.”

Diana frowned. “Mother...” she mumbled.

Click.

The double doors of Nick’s office opened, Akko stepped out, looking much more confident and determined than when she went in earlier. “You’re up, Diana!” she said as she passed her by, shooting her a smile and a look with a meaning she couldn’t decipher quite just yet.

Diana decided to ignore her for now, and stepped into Nick’s office, her posture perfect, her movements graceful, and a noticeable chill emanating from her.

“Please, take a seat, Cavendish,” Nick said, gesturing to the couches near the snack bar. “Cocoa?”

“I’d prefer we do this at your desk, Professor Schnee,” Diana said as she took one of the seats in front of it. “The snack bar feels too… informal.”

“Suit yourself, Cavendish,” Nick said as he returned to his desk, closed the doors with the button, then pressed a different button next to it.

Thoom.

Diana flinched as all of the mountains upon mountains of paperwork flew skyward via controlled explosion, so fast and instantaneous the sheets didn’t even have time to get out of alignment before a basket with a folding caught them, kept in alignment and from falling.

“You know, I always thought your special button for temporarily ridding yourself of paperwork was a joke...” Diana said as she slowly relaxed, brought her feet back to the floor.

“You thought wrong.” Nick said as he settled back in his chair, a custom-made giant that gave off the impression of a leather-upholstered throne with a rotating seat. “So, what’s bugging you, Cavendish?”

Diana sucked in a breath, and let it go slowly. “I’ll be frank: I believe I should have been the leader of my team, instead of Akko.”

“Oh? And why do you think that?”

“Because, Professor Schnee, I am quite certain that I am much more qualified than she in every possible way.

“I will admit, my personal experience with Akko has been extremely limited, and while she has certainly proved that she is a more than capable fighter by herself or coordinating with others—even ones she had only met that day as was the case with myself and Ruby—it is of my opinion that she’s not fit to lead.”

“And why’s that?”

Diana sighed. “You’ve read the report about our disastrous experience during initiation, yes?”

“Yes, yes I have. I’m assuming you’re referring to your little run-in with the gravediggers?”

“An encounter we could have probably avoided if she could have just contained her excitement upon seeing the Shiny Rod,” Diana spat. “The petra gigas would certainly have still been a concern if we had tried to retrieve it, but those subterranean pests and their grave lord would have not gotten tangled up in our business, and the aftermath would not have been nearly as disastrous as it was.”

Nick nodded. “I agree, that was really stupid of Akko, and the situation could have gone better if she had acted more professional. What do you think about how she got you out of your actual situation, with the petra gigas vs the grave lord?”

“You mean Akko’s plan to retrieve the Shiny Rod? Yes, I’ll admit her gamble worked, but still, it was a gamble, and a very stupid one at that.

“I’d accept a calculated risk, but that was a total shot in the dark; regardless of how well it worked, I’m certain we can attribute her success much more to the fact that the Shiny Rod decided to choose her as its new wielder and allow her to use its power, and even more that Weiss just happened to have a semblance and the mastery of it to help us survive the cave-in, let alone Sucy, Constanze, and the others just happening to be in the area, and having the equipment capable of performing that rescue!

“Our survival was all about the stars aligning in our favour!” Diana cried as she threw her hands up. “To somehow attribute all or most of that to any skill of Akko would be absolutely ridiculous, unless I wasn’t aware that her semblance is also extreme luck that happens to happen to occur when she needs it most.”

Nick nodded. “So your argument for Akko being an unfit leader, is that her big, potentially lethal mistake in those caverns was self-inflicted, avoidable misfortune, and how she got you out of that mess was divinely-granted, skill-independent fortune. Does that sound right?”

“Yes, exactly!” Diana said, smiling. “I understand that our very lives always have an element of luck involved—accidents are an inevitability, after all—but that was just relying far too much on it.

“Fortune favours the bold and the prepared, and Akko while fits the first, she doesn’t particularly strike me as the latter—quite the opposite, actually. To trust her with so much responsibility as the leader of our team, much more for the next four years, is just a step short of asking the gods to bless you with as much misfortune as they’re capable of!

“Conversely, I think I am a much better choice. You’ve read my transcripts, my performance, my recommendations from Atlas Combat School, yes? Wouldn’t you agree that I’m an exemplary student, and thus the better choice for leader?”

Nick nodded. “I have, Cavendish, and yes, I agree: you really are the picture of an ace student, someone any teacher would have been proud to have in their class then...”

Diana beamed.

“… But I respectfully disagree in your belief that you’d make the better leader now.”

Diana blinked, before she frowned. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Cavendish, for the purpose of full disclosure: Haven’s decision making process for team leaders is very holistic and thorough, looking past a student’s performance in combat school or the GCD, and into every other aspect of their lives.

“We talk to their families, we talk to their friends, we talk to the people who know them, probably even better than the student does themselves. We look into public records, we look into your public social media histories, we even have the right to look into your permanent records in non-martial schools, and your criminal record, should you have one.

“In short: we try and use every single legal means available to use to learn pretty much everything there is about you, as a person, not just as a student of combat school or someone taking the GCD.

“And frankly, Diana, just from the assessments of your old professors at Atlas alone, you don’t feel fit for leader material in my eyes.”

Diana scowled. “Would full-disclosure happen to include my getting to read what they wrote about me?”

“Generally, no, but it seems your professors knew you well enough to waive their right to confidentiality, in case you wanted to investigate. Would you like me to read you some?”

“Please.”

Nick held out his cybernetic wrist, a two-sided projection appeared before them.

It is with a heavy heart that I write this recommendation letter, for though the inevitability of it has always been on my mind, to whom I would be addressing it to, what institution my beloved student Diana Cavendish wished me to aid her enrolling in, has caught me completely off-guard.

Ask any of her classmates or my colleagues, and you will know that I have made no secret of my preference, my admiration, and indeed, my awe for Cavendish: truly, she is one of the most exceptional, talented, and hard-working students I have ever had the pleasure of teaching, whose input, works, and mere presence I looked forward to every lesson, and whose absence was sorely and easily felt by everyone, even a random student passing by and peeking in through the window.

There is no doubt in my mind that she is destined for greatness, one of the rare individuals in each generation that have the power to completely and utterly change the world as we know it, someone who is already making waves and an enduring legacy name for herself as we speak.

But whereas I have always imagined her as joining the hallowed ranks of Atlas Academy, and making her meteoric rise to the very top of its ranks in no time at all, it seems that her heart is destined for Haven, the alma mater of her mother, and indeed, all of her ancestors save Beatrix, if only because it did not yet exist.

You have my word that Cavendish will be a blessing to your institution, like one of the divine gifts of legend the gods rained down from the heavens, or summoned from the very bottom of the sea. But like those, I leave you with a warning:

When Cavendish has set her sights on something, it would be foolish to attempt to stand in her way, and you would do best to either support her, or simply get out of the way.

Signed,

J. J. Lukov, PhD

P.S. If, for whatever reason, you have not done yourself the favour of reading through her accomplishments, I’ve attached records of what I believe to be Cavendish’s most impressive and inspiring feats.

Nick skipped the hefty attachment, and went through a handful of other recommendation letters.

… I honestly believe she would be much better suited for the rigid and structured life of the Atlesian Military, and fear what is to come to her if she continued on with her plans of joining the highly individualistic, diverse, and rather informal culture of Haven academy.

A third letter.

Cavendish is something of a legend in her classmate’s eyes: the one you partner up with if you wish to pass a class from the very brink of failure, get a guaranteed 100%, at the cost of experiencing the other extreme of ‘leaders from hell,’ the one who demands and will ensure she gets nothing but the best from all of you, at all times.

She’s become so infamous, they’ve even coined a term for it: ‘selling your soul to the Blue Devil.’And indeed, it seems that as soon as the contract is honoured, both parties cease all interactions till the next time the need arises, just like any sort of purely professional business arrangement.

Even her closest friends Hannah England and Barbara Parker seem more like personal assistants or loyal sycophants than companions.

“I could go on all night, but Belladonna’s still waiting outside,” Nick said as he shut off his wrist-projector. “I’m pretty sure you get my justification for not choosing you as the leader, unless I thought wrong?”

Diana sighed, sitting lower in her seat than earlier, her posture less proud and straight. “Yes, yes I have, Professor Schnee… thank you for taking the time to listen to my appeal, and for explaining your reasoning.”

“Any time, and you’re welcome, Cavendish.” Nick said. “Anything else?”

“If you can please disclose it: why Akko…?” Diana asked. “I mean, I get that the optics of you choosing your own granddaughter to lead would have been questionable, to say the least, but in time people will surely see that it was far from a case of nepotism, and simply coincidence that the most qualified candidate was also related to you.”

“Because, Cavendish, Weiss isn’t as fit for the position as you think she is, and even with having seen Akko at her best and many more times at her worst, she is still the best pick to lead you all,” Nick replied. “Again, I could go on and on all night about the details I can disclose, but again, Belladonna.”

Diana nodded. “I understand, Professor Schnee. Excuse me, I will take my leave now,” she said as she began to stand up.

“Actually, before you do, could you do me a huge favour?”

Diana sat back down in her seat. “Depends on what it is, sir.”

Nick opened his drawer, pulled out an old, worn, inelegant looking device, about the size of a fist.

“What is that?” Diana asked.

“First prototype for the portable power core that runs the ventilator they replaced my lungs with,” Nick said as he placed it on his desk.

“After I complained about never being able to actually do much of anything because the old cores drained so fast, your mother made it herself and personally socked it into my chest for its first field test. She always said she wanted me to give it back when I was done with it, but I never did—between studying it to make improvements, and all the other shit that happened shortly after I made the Mk. II, it just always took a backseat, until, well...

“… Look: I know your estate preferred to have it as a private, family-only affair, but I always regret that I never could pay my respects to your mother in-person, before they put her to rest in your family crypt.

“So the next time you’re paying her a visit, could you put it somewhere near her?”

Diana looked at the device with an unreadable expression.

“I’ll definitely understand if you don’t want to,” Nick said. “You’ve got school, it’ll take up space, and unfortunately this thing was a big reason she went when she did...”

Diana took the device from him, gently held it to her chest. “I’m sure my mother would love to have proof that even in death, she continues to do her passion: saving lives,” she said, smiling.

“Heh...” Nick said, the corner of his lips tugging up slightly. “That she would…” He stood up. “Come on, I’ll see you to the door...”

Diana went down the hallways, looking deep in thought as she cradled the prototype power core in her hands, Nick leaned out his door and looked at Blake. “Belladonna, your turn. Sorry for the wait, there was a lot to discuss.”

“It’s fine, sir,” Blake said as she closed her books, and got up from her seat. “And I think you’ll be happy to know I wasn’t planning on taking long.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” Nick asked as she stepped up.

Blake looked up at him, sheepishly grabbed her arm, before she smiled at him and said, “I just want to thank you, sir, for the opportunity you’ve given me. I promise, I won’t let you down.”

Nick chuckled. “In my experience, being chosen to be a leader isn’t something you should be thanking someone for, but you’re welcome.”

“And I think differently, sir,” Blake replied. “Excuse, I’ll be taking my leave now.”

Nick nodded. “You do that. Oh, and Belladonna? Before you go: you read any interesting books lately?”

“Not really sir, no,” Blake replied. “There was a historical fiction about Mantle that looked like it was going to be interesting at the start, but it fizzled out pretty quickly.”

“Shame, that. Till next time, then,” Nick said as he stepped back into his office, closed the door behind him. He got his mug from earlier and refilled it with more hot cocoa, before he returned to his desk, opened one of his drawers, and pulled out a framed, printed picture:

Him, shirtless and in a wheelchair, all the robotic parts of him on full display, smiling as a brand new, portable power core glowed and hummed in his chest, Bernadette beside him looking frazzled, sleepless, but proud and happy.

Nick started tearing up. “You know, Bernie… between the two of us, I always thought Dust Lung would get me first… funny how things actually worked out, right…?

He spent a few minutes crying, sipping his cocoa in between sobs. And then, when his eyes were finally dry, he wiped his eyes, and pressed the second button underneath his desk.

Click. Thoomph.

The mountains of paperwork from earlier were back on his desk once more, a layer of gravity dust keeping them from flying out of their stacks. Nick picked up his pen, found where he had left off earlier, and got back to work.

“Cry all the tears you have, and mourn for as long as you need to, and, bury your dead, and honour all we have lost, and hold close those you still have left...” his father, Herakleides “Herk” Schnee, had said. “… But when your eyes are dry, and you can grieve and wail no more, and the dirt has been patted flat with the grave marker placed, and you have said all you could say, and even your closest loved ones pull away from your grasp…

“… You better be damn sure you’re ready to get back to work, for the work of the living never truly ends.”

#rwby #little witch academia #fanfic #and the awrd goes to #au #white rose #dianakko

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