#denis damocles

[papyrusgayfont]

* here’s the second post of all the show characters and locations that are in Miraculous Awakening or whatever it’s called because i was bored (spoilers, obviously).

* Sabine Cheng

* Tom Dupain

* Gabriel Agreste

* Nathalie Sancoeur

* Denis Damocles

* Caline Bustier

* Nadja Chamack

* Emilie Agreste

* Master Fu

* Vincent

* Luka Couffaine

[starsfic]

Punished

So I was re-reading LadyBugOut by @miraculouscontent and I had a thought that occurred to me when I was reading this chapter. In the very next chapter, it's mentioned that people could hear Miss Bustier and Marinette arguing and the class jumping to the latter's defense. It wouldn't surprise me if this got reported to Mr. Damocles, even if said reports didn't come from the class (which some probably did, let's be honest here, someone told their parents).

Caline had been what had been best described as a rough two days.

First had been her attempt at regaining peace in her classroom by asking Marinette, very politely, to delete BugOut, followed by the confrontation by her students. Second had been Ms. Mendeleiev’s rather harsh pointing out of her faults. After all that, Caline had tossed and turned all night, trying to decide what to do.

She wanted to deny that Mendeleiev was right. Her methods had worked for years, after all, at least from what she saw. She wanted to believe that she was wrong. Marinette was just lashing out, acting out, definitely not acting like the wonderful good example Caline knew she could be. But the thought of that brought up the memory of her students’ angry faces and Max’s cold words, and she felt sick to her stomach.

She still wasn’t sure what to do now that she was back in school. She still felt sick, although that might’ve been the lack of sleep in general. Caline glanced up and felt her stomach twist at the sight of her classroom door.

First, she needed coffee. Next, she needed to at least teach for the day and then figure out what to do.

However, her plans were stopped by a clearing of the throat.

Mr. Damocles hovered behind her, staring at her. “Ms. Bustier, can I have a word with you?” He sounded strange, almost angry.

“Oh,” She forced down the twist in her stomach and tried for a smile. “Of course, Mr. Damocles-”

“In private.”

Her stomach twisted even harder but she managed a nod. “Of course, sir.” Hopefully, this wasn’t what she thought it was. Maybe he just wanted her thoughts on something? The school dance was due to come soon and God knew how many emotions rose up during that time.

Damocles led her upstairs to his office. He opened the door for her and Caline stepped inside, sitting down. She faintly tasted bile at the back of her throat as the door shut, and he walked past her to his desk. There, he folded his hands, staring her down.

“May I help you with something?” she had to say then, praying that it wasn’t what she thought it was.

“No.” Mr. Damocles frowned, unfolded his hands, and then refolded them. “Ms. Bustier,” he finally said. “I recently received some reports from students’ parents.” Oh no. “I must note, none are from the parents of those in your class.” He pulled out a folder and set it down. It made a small thunk and Caline felt sweat start to bead up. “However, they are all concerning a fight-”

“I wouldn’t really say it was a fight,” Caline had to speak up then. “I was just trying to-”

“Make Ms. Dupain-Cheng delete a blog that has developed into an important resource?” Damocles flipped open the folder and turned it to her. Caline reached out, flipping through the pages. Through most of them were the words that had come from her:

“I advise that you take it down.”

“I’m positive you could take it down with one click if you had to.”

“The blog itself going down would have the best chance of fixing things. It will make it feel like this whole thing has been a mistake.”

“...I can explain-”

“I must advise you that, if it were more than a simple public blog, I would have to go to the police for this,” And that made her freeze. Mr. Damocles stared at her, his brows furrowed tight, and Caline realized that, no, he was actually angry. “However, as far as I know, BugOut does not have any special government protection. It is, however, an important resource.” His hands clenched tighter together. “That does not even mention that you crossed a line by telling a student what she can and cannot publish on her own social media.”

The sweat rolled down her skin. Was it just her or was it hot in here? “I felt like it was more important to protect my students,” she said, her claim sounding weak even as she said it. “Alya and Lila were being hurt by what it was saying.”

“Was Ms. Dupain-Cheng threatening them? Posting humiliating pictures of them? Doxxing them?” Damocles shook his head. “No. Ladybug was simply posting the truth, as she has the right to do. Her intention was not to harm, but to protect herself.” His brows furrowed tighter and tighter. “Next time, I would consider what it was actually doing before speaking up.”

Caline looked down at that, feeling her face grow hot. “So, am I being punished?” she said, gripping her knees and forcing back the bile in her throat.

“Yes. I want you to apologize to your class, especially Ms. Dupain-Cheng,” Well, that took the choice out of her hands. Something was pushed into her vision, and she looked up. It was a brochure for some kind of training. “This is for a training course on setting boundaries between educators and students,” Mr. Damocles said. “I would recommend you take it.”

Bustier was almost impressed. A few months ago, he would be trying his best to not make waves, at least with Chloe. She just wished it wasn’t aimed at her. “Thank you, Mr. Damocles,” She took the brochure and took in a deep breath. “I… apologize.”

He opened his mouth, probably to say that she didn’t need to apologize to him, but Caline was already up and moving. The sooner she moved, the sooner she got away from his anger.

The sooner she could forget the hot shame that welled up, deep inside.

[ijustliketoreadstuff]

Why Sabine and Tom couldn’t do anything for Marinette

Over the course of the series, most notably in “Were dad” and “Dearest family”, its been made clear that Sabine and Tom are very protective of their daughter, but after we realized the full extent of what Marinette had to go through at school in the years prior, we discover that much like how Marinette had trouble living her day to day life being bullied by Chloe, it was Marinette's parents, Sabine and Tom, who also had the unbearable struggle of not being able to protect their daughter. Sabine and Tom knew Chloe was giving their daughter a hard time, but odds are, this was all Marinette would let them know. Kids tend to live completely different lives at school and outside of home( Lila being the biggest and most extreme example), and although Marinette knows her parents only ever had the best interest for her and would want to help, she couldn’t afford to let them so long as Chloe had the power to not only threaten and fire the teachers at school by using Andre’s power as mayor to her own advantage, but also interfere with other peoples careers and businesses outside of school, just as we saw her do with Clara in “Frightingale”, and Veronique in “Determination”.

For her families sake, Marinette understood that what she was going through, was something she could not afford to let her parents get involved in to much, as it would only risk worsening the situation for all of them. Her only solution to her problem at the time, was to somehow make it to the end of the school year and hope Chloe was not in her class next year.

If and when  Marinette is seen on screen talking about Chloe with her parents, the conversation ends up being short and moments before she has to leave for school, with Marinette only saying simple things such as “I bet you anything Chloe will be in my class again”, but nothing more. 

(Sabine attempting to lift Marinette’s spirits to help her make it through the day)

Anytime Sabine was with Marinette during breakfast, both in “Origins” and the “Derision” flashback, Sabine is never seen pressuring Marinette to tell her more about Chloe as she knew it was a conversation her daughter did not feel comfortable talking about. As a result, Sabine could only do what she could and gave her daughter a few little words of encouragement to help her make it through the day, but just to be sure, she resorted to asking the one person she knew to rely on and look after Marinette, Socqueline, who would attempt to do what she could to help Marinette realize she needed to find and build the confidence necessary to stand up to Chloe in order to change things. 

(Socqueline explains to Marinette she would not be around forever to help protect her.)

Now, given who they are, Sabine and Tom would of course have already made attempts to confront the school long ago, the moment they realized their daughter was struggling, but even if Sabine and Tom attempted to confront the principle about the situation revolving around their daughter, their attempts would have proven useless as there was no real proof of what Chloe was doing to Marinette. Had Sabine and Tom gone to the principle, the staff would have either simply set aside their claims as nothing more than a common personal matter between two students that they could not keep track of, as there are numerous students all having their own individual problems, or simply a bunch of accusations, just as they had  falsely believed Marinette was known for doing, year after year. And although Sabine and Tom could have taken more extreme action against this, any attempts would have proven futile so long as their daughters situation revolved around the Mayors daughter. Justice was not on the Dupain’s side, it was for Andre to control, and that control was primarily decided on by his daughter. 

(Chloe sitting in Andre’s Mayoral seat back in “Determination”, signifies the control she has over her father and his powers as Mayor)

In the end, no matter who was willing to help and no matter who was willing to protect her, it was always left to Marinette to change things by learning to protect herself and defy the injustices around her.

(Marinette finds the confidence to stand up to Chloe in “Origins”)

[killervelveteenrabbit]

I love how Sabrina, Miss Bustier, and Mr. Damocles all sacked up and refused to tolerate Chlila's antics any further...

... but if Nathaniel is going to a different high school next season, doesn't it mean he's getting written out of the show? I've already lost one of my favorite characters (Luka) and the loss of the Nathmarc dynamic would be heartbreaking.

[character-fan19]

MLB Season 5 Character Analysis: "Jubilation"

Introduction

Hey everyone, I'm back with another analysis. If you haven't seen my last post, you can find that here and if you want to see my season 4 character analyses, you can find that here. Basically, in this series, I take a look at the motivations, emotions and behaviours of the relevant characters in every individual episode of season 5, so that we can outline their overall journey bit by bit to figure out why they do what they do.

Today we have "Jubilation". This was quite an emotional episode and made the title pretty ironic, given that if left everyone in-universe and out-of-universe depressed when jubilation is supposed to mean a feeling of great happiness or joy. Most of the meat of this analysis is probably going to be with Ladybug and Cat Noir, since their Jubilation dream is the main focus of the episode, with some minor focus on Mr. Damocles' and Socqueline's desire to be superheroes. So without further ado, let's get into it.

Character POVs

Ladybug

"Monarch... must've altered it somehow, to trick us. Yes, that's got to be it."

Ever since "Strikeback", Ladybug has developed a new appreciation for Cat Noir. Not that she didn't appreciate him before but when Cat Noir showed her the extent of his loyalty and kindness, it caused her to fall in love with him, symbolized by the clap of thunder similar to the one in the "Origins" two-parter during the umbrella scene. Now that has finally come to the forefront in this episode in the form of the Jubilation dream.

At first glance, from seeing Ladybug and Cat Noir's shared Jubilation dream, you'd think it is divided into two parts for each of Ladybug and Cat Noir's deepest desires: defeating Monarch for Ladybug and getting married and settling down with Ladybug for Cat Noir. But from the state of Ladybug upon realizing she was in a dream and her state after getting out, you can tell that she too wanted to be with Cat Noir, but at present is in denial of this because of wanting to put her duty as Ladybug first. Speaking of putting duty before feelings....

2. Cat Noir

"How dare you play with our feelings?? Cataclysm!"

The Jubilation dream affected Cat Noir much worse than it did Ladybug, and being the less emotionally stable of the two, he almost used Cataclysm on him directly out of anger, something he was very horrified to have done last episode.

This showed us just how much his emotions clouded his better judgement, to the point that Ladybug had to remind him not to Cataclysm a person, and Cat Noir realized this too, understanding that his feelings for Ladybug can be used against him and make him do terrible things, therefore causing him to decide that he should give up on his feelings for Ladybug to focus completely on being a superhero and we will see this effect his actions in future episodes.

3. Denis

"It's pointless. It's pointless now."

Moving on to the more minor characters of this episode, we have Denis. or rather Mr. Damocles. This guy wanted to be a superhero which carries on from his first akumatization episode "The Dark Owl". While he was doing this out of good intentions, he was ultimately putting himself in danger, just like in "The Dark Owl" and when Marinette made him come to that realization, it left him deflated. Although after being deakumatized, he seems to be in much better spirits, going back to doing community service to be a superhero.

4. Socqueline

"Yes, but you gotta know when to step in. That's the only way you can change things in life."

Moving onto someone else trying to be a superhero, we have Socqueline, Marinette's school friend from the previous year. She too was attempting to do what Mr. Damocles was doing (much more successfully) and under the belief that pitching in on the superhero business would relieve Ladybug of her duties and hoping to get recognition from her and Cat Noir as we see in her Jubilation dream. Unbeknownst to her though, she was only causing more stress just like Mr. Damocles due to not being equipped with any superpowers to help her. Thankfully, Marinette was able to come through to Socqueline as Ladybug after defeating the Darker Owl.

Conclusion

Well that's that for this episode. Feel free to make your own analyses for this episode and point out anything I may have missed. Until next time!

[wingsofchangemlau]

Apology

Wings of Change AU

Previous | First | Next

[australet789]

Also like can someone fire Principle Damocles?

He is also a shitass who lacks the balls to do the right thing. He doesnt deserve to be a school director, less to be a “false superhero”

If he wanted to do something he would try and protect the kids that are under his care.

[miraculous-prompts]

Grab a dictionary, flip to a random page and point, use that word to create a scene using Evillustrator, Clara, Pigella, Nightormentor, and Denis

[fandomsarebrainless]

I don't get why people think Denis and Andre have suddenly changed. They're still the same pathetic cowards they always were, nothing in these last two episodes have convinced me otherwise. But then they have to bring Olga into it? One of the few half decent teachers in this entire school and they completely took her character to the slaughterhouse by making her principal. Man, how stupid are these writers?

[alexseanchai]

the Sword of Principal Damocles is Chloe having her father, the mayor, on speed dial

[flightfoot]

You know, thinking about it, Marinette and Alya take really different approaches to figuring out who did something, whether they're guilty, etc. And I'm not just talking about with Lila, this was established with Chloe back in Despair Bear.

Denis Damocles: So, some smart aleck had the bright idea of calling the fire department. (the students gasp shocked) Somebody amongst us thought it would be funny to waste the fire captain's valuable time. Fireman: Yes, in fact, if you wouldn't mind I... Denis Damocles Hold on! I want the guilty party to apologize to you. Marinette: (whispers to Alya) I'm sure it was Chloé. I saw her on her phone right before the alarm went off! Alya: You seeing her make a phone call isn't solid proof. Marinette: (sighs)

Alya does not like Chloe. She does not think Chloe is a good person. She believes that this is the sort of thing that Chloe would do. But she still isn't going to make the leap that Chloe's definitely guilty, at least when it would involve an actual public confrontation. As Alya pointed out, seeing Chloe on the phone right before ISN'T solid proof. It's evidence, but it's not enough.

And then with Lila, Alya also wants some actual solid evidence before leaping to the conclusion that she's bad or publicly accusing her. While Alya's willing to take positive statements from others at face value or may leap to conclusions if those conclusions aren't too harmful to the person they're about, for anything that would result in an actual accusation, she really wants solid evidence, the kind of thing that you could actually argue in court and not be laughed out for.

Marinette, meanwhile, relies more on prior experience and vibes to determine whether someone is guilty of something. She knows that Chloe's a troublemaker and bully, so if something's gone wrong, she'll immediately conclude that Chloe did it. She knows that Lila's a liar, so she concludes that she's lying about everything (such as her various disabilities and injuries) whether she has evidence of Lila actually lying about that or not. And she knew that Chloe's was a jerk and that her only "friend" Sabrina was an accomplice, so when Chloe spoke positively about her friend and then that friend showed up and appeared to be doing something with gum on her chair, she didn't believe that he was taking the gum off.

It's the two basic methods of determining whodunnit that I see used generally in everyday life. Do you rely on reputation to determine who probably did something, or do you have to wait and try to gather solid evidence that'll hold up better? What's the consequences if you're wrong? And if you're relying on reputation to determine who the culprit is, then you're screwed if someone else has had different experiences with that person than you have, because that's the basis of your argument for them being the culprit.

[nerdishpursuits]

What boggles the mind, is that the Civil Guard doesn’t even have proof that Fina is queer. All they have is the word of a psychopath, whose only “virtue” in the eyes of the law is being a man. Which is all the scarier, given it seems to be the only requirement to accuse a woman and get away with it.

There’s no actual proof to back up his claims of “immoral behavior”. He has nothing. No pictures, no witnesses. All he has is simply that: claims. But, for now, his word seems to be enough to get Fina arrested and upend her and Marta’s lives. And it’s scary how much this kind of misogyny endures, and thrives, today. That men truly believe themselves untouchable and superior by virtue of their gender. That plenty of them still think they are owed relationships and owed sexual relations. That being denied is unacceptable. That refusal requires extensive justification and needs to be punished.

This particular turn of events is clearly going to hurt like hell. Seeing Marta so broken, to the point she falls apart in front of Carmen and Claudia, and seeing Fina so scared for her life, scared for them, is damn painful to watch. I suppose it’s true that since the very beginning, the threat of being jailed, if exposed, has always been their proverbial sword of Damocles. The writers have been leaving breadcrumbs for us since the dawn of Mafin. Time to push through the dark. I find comfort that however agonizing the road, the stars are guiding beacons in the night and the sunrise will vanquish the shadows.

I like to think they’ll approach this with a level head. It’s time to throw the De la Reina name around and crush some bigots under its considerable weight. I want SantiASCO’s skull to be crushed under Marta’s righteous heel. Hell hath no fury!!! And once the shock abates, I’m sure Marta will unleash hell upon his pathetic, narcissistic ass (the more I think about it, the more I suspect there’s a chance he might have murdered his own mother; this kind of man has plenty antecedents, women have little to no value to him, except to be used at his discretion; he must have an Achilles heel that Marta can target to take him down)

As heavy, distressing and triggering as this turn of events is, it’s great drama to watch unfold and everyone on the show is acting their heart out. It’s a treat. History needs to be taught, needs to be remembered. So we don’t trip over the same stone, again and again, so we don’t fall prey to extremism. The consequences are unfathomable otherwise.

And I also like to remember that no matter how bitter the drink from this cup, their story is meant to be one of hope and light. I’ll hold onto that.

I sure as hell look forward to Marta waging war for her woman. War without quarter. And I look forward to Fina standing tall, head held high, ever by her side. They’ll face this as they always have: together, as one.

[cherriecove]

A Courtship of Politics and Passion (Part 2)

Jacaerys Velaryon x Hightower!Reader

Summary: Cannon divergence, Rhaenyra Targaryen is queen after the Dance of The Dragons. In order to secure peace and ensure her son is able to take his rightful place on the throne after her she decides to make allies out of previous enemies. Cherrie's Note: Thank you so much for the love on the last post! Any more nice words and i might fall in love with yous ngl. Hope you enjoy.

Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

The days after the royal feast were dripping with tension, as Jacaerys Velaryon and Lady Y/N Hightower found themselves annoyingly entangled in each other's company far more often than either would have liked. This, of course, was all part of Queen Rhaenyra's grand plan—a delicate little game of matchmaking disguised as diplomacy. She had hoped that a few shared walks and awkward conversations might bridge the bloody, betrayal-riddled chasm between their families. But, alas, Rhaenyra had sorely misjudged the depth of their mutual disdain. Every word they exchanged was polite, sure, but underneath the civility, each syllable was laced with the venom of old grudges neither of them could pretend to forget.

Their favoured meeting spot became the Red Keep’s gardens—a lovely place, in theory. It should have offered peace, with its fragrant blooms of roses and jasmine filling the air, but even the most enchanting flowers couldn’t mask the simmering hostility between them. One fine afternoon, under a deceptively serene, bright blue sky, they strolled side by side, their pace deliberate, every step as calculated as the sharp words lingering on their tongues.

Jacaerys had been brooding in silence for most of their walk, clearly troubled, stealing glances at Y/N when he thought she wasn’t looking. She, of course, was the picture of composure, but the tightness in her jaw and the rigid set of her shoulders betrayed the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior. Eventually, Jacaerys couldn’t keep it in any longer. His voice, low and brimming with resentment, cut through the silence like a blade.

"I wonder," he began, his gaze steady and unflinching, "do you feel any guilt for what your family did? For nearly spilling blood in their attempt to steal my mother’s throne?"

Oh, and there it was—the blow he’d been itching to land, his accusation hanging between them like the sword of Damocles. Y/N’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but she didn’t avert her gaze. No, she was prepared for this—had seen it coming from a mile away, even if it stung just the same.

"I am not my father, Prince Jacaerys," she replied, her tone measured, though the steel in her voice was unmistakable. "And I am not responsible for his choices."

Diplomatic, perhaps, but Jacaerys wasn’t fooled. He heard the defensiveness in her words, a shield hastily raised against the guilt he wanted to drape over her shoulders. He stopped walking, turning to face her fully, brow furrowed as he pressed on.

“Yet here you are, sent in his stead to smooth over the wounds he created. How am I to trust you? How do I know this isn’t just another Hightower plot to weaken my family?”

The question hit like a punch to the gut—raw, accusatory. Y/N’s carefully crafted mask of composure slipped, just for a moment, and anger flashed in her eyes. She had anticipated this confrontation, sure, but that didn’t mean it was any easier to swallow. Even so, her voice remained controlled, though it quivered ever so slightly with emotion.

"I came here for peace, not to reopen old wounds," she shot back, her tone firm but not harsh. "My family’s past is far from clean, I won’t deny that. But I’m not here to repeat those mistakes. This marriage could mend the rift between our houses if you’d stop seeing me as the enemy."

Her words were sincere, yet Jacaerys couldn’t easily brush aside the memories of war, treachery, and all the chaos that followed. The Hightowers had nearly torn his family—and the realm—apart. The pain was still fresh, the betrayal too sharp, too real. His mind flashed back to the darkest days of the conflict, when every move felt like a step closer to the abyss, and the crown was slipping through his mother’s fingers.

He halted again, turning to look at her fully, his voice quieter now but still strained with the weight of his past. "It’s hard to forget that your bloodline tried to destroy mine."

Y/N stopped as well, standing just a few paces away from him. The space between them felt more like a chasm than the mere feet that separated them. But instead of retreating, she stepped closer, surprising him with her boldness. Her eyes were fierce, burning with a fire he hadn’t expected.

“And yet,” she shot back, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade, “here I am, ready to forge a new path. Can you say the same, Jacaerys? Or are you content to be forever shackled to the past?"

The intensity of her words hit him harder than he anticipated, and for a moment, the world seemed to freeze. The beautiful garden around them faded into the background, their conflict overshadowing everything else. Jacaerys could feel his heart racing—not just from the argument, but from something deeper. He saw, in that moment, more than just a Hightower standing before him. He saw a woman weighed down by the same burdens he carried—the weight of legacy, the expectations of bloodlines they hadn’t chosen, both trapped in a tangled web of history.

"You talk of forging a new path," he said slowly, his voice softer now, more reflective, "but how can I be sure? How do I know this isn’t another Hightower scheme?"

Y/N’s gaze softened, though the fire in her eyes remained. "You can’t know for certain, Jacaerys. Trust, like peace, has to be built. Brick by brick. Moment by moment. But it has to start somewhere. If we let the past dictate everything, we’ll be trapped in it forever."

Her words struck something deep within him. For the first time, he saw her not as an adversary, but as someone who understood. Someone who, like him, was navigating the treacherous waters of family, legacy, and expectation. There were no guarantees here, no easy solutions. But maybe… just maybe… there was a chance. A small, fragile possibility that they could build something better, together.

“I don’t know if I can forget,” he admitted quietly, vulnerability creeping into his voice. “But maybe… you’re right. We can’t keep living in the past.”

Y/N’s expression softened further, and she nodded. "No, we can’t. But that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy."

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of their words hanging in the air like a heavy cloak. The tension hadn’t completely disappeared, but something had shifted—a tentative understanding, perhaps. The beginning of something neither of them fully understood, but couldn’t entirely ignore.

As they resumed their walk through the garden, the hostility between them eased, replaced by something quieter, more uncertain. A possibility, fragile but real, that they might yet carve out a future that was theirs—beyond the legacies and bloodlines that had divided them for so long.

Taglist: @rafslytherin

[ijustliketoreadstuff]

Miss Bustier and the teachers responses to Marinette’s struggles with Chloe.

In the “Derision” flashback, we discover that throughout the school years, Marinette had faced a problematic dilemma where the teachers would side with Chloe in any given situation. Of course the biggest question in terms of this was why the teachers were not doing more to tackle the situations surrounding their students. Now, their lack of attempting to properly tackle such situations, had primarily revolved around fear and an unwillingness to spend more time to uncover the hidden truth as their lives revolved around managing numerous students, each one with their own individual issues.

 In the past, Chloe had ensured her actions remained as hidden as possible if and whenever she carried out a plan, something we have also seen her do throughout the series, in the new school year. 

(In “Mr. Pigeon”, Chloe attempted to steal Marinette’s hat design without anyone knowing, but was proven guilty as a result of Marinette sneakily incorporating her signature into the design. )

But in order to ensure the teachers would not consider Marinette’s word in the years prior, we discover that Chloe had spent time building Marinette a reputation where she would always be considered the tardy student who would be quick to disrupt class. Of course, Marinette was tardy and disruptive in class because she had trouble avoiding the pranks Chloe left her. 

(The principle, Mr. Damocles, and teachers like Ms. Mendeleiev, would only see and focus on Marinette, as well as her reaction in any given situation. Chloe would regularly direct the principle in Marinette’s direction anytime she knew her plans would stall Marinette long enough to leave her tardy.)

(Chloe’s pranks would delay Marinette from arriving to class on time while also prompting her to react and appear as the one who was insinuating conflict, leaving Chloe as just another spectator in the crowd for the majority of the time)

If any situation would result in a possible confrontation, Chloe was quick to make up any story necessary to make it seem she was being falsely accused and was not being considered in the matter, but on the chance the teachers did not comply, she was more than willing to threaten to call her father, the mayor, to have them fired through her word alone. 

Although teachers like Miss Bustier attempted to resolve any conflict between her students as best she could, her attempts to correct their behavior primarily revolved around being caring in any situation and finding the positives to things that would ordinarily be wrong through her students eyes. 

(Miss. Bustier  attempted to look at the positive in Chloe drawing on Marinette's handmade gift back in "Zombizou") 

Miss. Bustier is perfectly aware of Chloe's behavior towards others, however, she did not have the heart to be more commanding and strict towards others in order to enforce stricter rules and punishment, instead, her attempts primarily focused on attempting to teach her students compassion and finding a way to defuse a situation before things could spiral. Miss Bustier’s lessons would be upheld by many of her students, but were words Chloe was only rarely willing to take into consideration as she was not very interested in learning to uphold the lessons others taught her in her day to day life.

(In “Zombizou”, Chloe was willing to apologize to Miss. Bustier near the end, but her willingness to apologize to her, did not mean she was willing to do the same for everyone she wronged.)

Knowing that Chloe was not easy to talk to about her behavior and the things she did towards others, as Miss.Bustier explained back in "Zombizou" that people like Chloe only think of themselves and couldn't properly understand the meaning of love, Miss. Bustier had instead focused her attention on the people around Chloe, expecting students such as Marinette to be the bigger person in a situation by being the ones to set an example for others of how to properly behave in situations with people like Chloe. Miss. Bustier's attempts were to inspire students like Marinette to potentially show others like Chloe the wrong in their actions by simultaneously giving a little kindness their way, all in the hopes that people like Marinette could additionally set a good example to those like Chloe and help inspire them to acknowledge their own behavior and be willing to put in the effort and sacrifice to change themselves.

And as we saw throughout the series, Marinette would attempt to take Miss. Bustier’s words and believe in Chloe as best she could. 

Only to realize as time went by that she now faced the same struggles the teachers had as Chloe was not very willing to listen and had continued to prioritize herself despite her moments of good and despite everyone's willingness to give her multiple chances to better herself.

(In “Malediktator”, Marinette attempts to let go of her past with Chloe to give her a chance to better herself by throwing her a party to show her support and kindness. Those who attended were all willing to do the same. Unfortunately, Chloe had decided to  focus on the benefits of a hero rather than the the lessons the heroes taught her, having no interest in committing to the work and sacrifice needed to be better. Instead concluding that the power of the miraculous and her new title as a hero was something she was entitled to and was now her right to use whenever she wished)

For the teachers, Marinette was the easiest to correct and punish, however, Chloe's behavior had sadly become to difficult to correct on their own as Chloe had presented consequences to anyone who attempted to punish her and fail to meet her demands. While teachers like Miss. Bustier attempted to work around those consequences by providing as much love and compassion towards her students as she could, other teachers had accepted that it was simply out of their hands as their attempts to prevent and sort through such situations would only result in them suffering the consequences and potentially loosing their jobs.

[chernabogs]

GLOAMING

Inc: Knight of Dawn, Lilia, Meleanor, Malleus mention, Silver mention, Leah mention Warnings: Heavier topic, obviously, considering the circumstances of KoD and BV's backgrounds. Mentions of blood, death, and genocide-related actions. WC: 1.5k Summary: Gloaming: Twilight; Dusk. [promptober]

The Knight doesn’t recall too much of his life before he was found. He doesn’t know who his parents were, nor how they fell on the good side of the fae to begin with, nor does he recall how he survived to the point in time where the king took him in. Perhaps that was an additional blessing by his guardians—the stubborn inability to fall victim to life’s poor toss-ups. After all, how else does an orphan starving on the filthy streets of a village end up under the wing of that nation's monarch? No one is that lucky without some sort of external acting force. 

Still, the old king was a kind man. A father that never gave his adopted son a name and rather just referred to him as his ‘Knight’, which quickly turned to ‘Knight of Dawn’—originally said in mockery by others, but soon to be uttered in reverence through trial and tribulation. Dawn was beautiful and sounded far more so without the term ‘knight of’ before it, especially when such a name comes to be associated with so much pain. 

No country wants a war, really—just the people who rule them. The costs are far greater than the benefits and the amount of blood that’s spilt for a mere few kilometres of land is never worth it. Besides, these kilometres are more often than not lost in the next scuffle, which makes all those bodies and broken families even less agreeable. The old king never wanted conflict, even when he fell ill with the Grieves and his body became a limpid, pungent husk swathed in royal robes. If a country denied him a cure then he would rather choose to die with dignity then drag his denizens and his name through mud.

Heinrich was not the old king. The crown prince who fancied himself a god was as arrogant and as entitled as one would expect a silver-spooned infant to be—not that the Knight would speak it out loud. He enjoyed dangling oaths like swords of Damocles, bending people to his whims and then discarding them once they stopped being so pliant. 

Childish. Always had been. Just a boy playing dress up as a prince.

She, however, was not. He was nameless and faceless beneath a mask until she had taken him into her heart and given him what he missed. A face, a name, a purpose beyond paying off a debt he never asked to get and was far too young to understand. 

“You are more,” she would whisper in his ear as he lost himself in her embrace, trying to find a few moments of sanctuary before he’s pulled to the front lines once more. Leah had evolved from someone he swore to protect by obligation to someone he would protect even if it meant rendering himself to ashes. In her presence he found himself able to think clearly, to know that the actions he was compliant with were wrong on so many levels. Their relationship was forbidden but the risk of it all made the moments more tantalizing then the most divine of nectars. 

But Leah could only shield him for so long, just as he could only do so with her. 

He doesn’t know how many he fell by his sword. He stopped counting at some point and merely began to act by mechanical response. Faces stopped having features to him and bodies stopped having names. His mind began to regress in itself until he was nothing more than a Golem serving as an extension of his lord's will. He rendered families to nothing, annihilated bloodlines, and almost took down a dynasty while he’s at it. He wanted to stop but he could never bring himself to speak his defiance’s out loud.

Coward. Always had been. Just a boy playing dress up as a hero. 

The only thing that snapped him of his reverie in these dark hours was the egg. It was unexcitable as it was clutched in the arms of its mother’s closest companion, who stared at him with red eyes that held as much exhaustion as he felt, but the Knight knew of its worth.

Tired. They’re both so goddamn tired. Divided by race, divided by loyalty, but united in this very breath by a singular emotion that they shared. 

“You…” he rasped out, his body aching from the collapse he was subject to, his throat raw with dust and debris. The General tensed and seemed prepared for a fight as he clutched the egg tighter. He will die for this baby, the Knight realized. He’ll let his blood stain the ground before a single scale is broken on that shell, and he’ll rip the world apart while he’s at it. The egg was about to be an orphan—its father was already dead, and he was in the process of killing its mother. Another family razed; another bloodline annihilated. 

He took a sharp breath as they stared at each other for a moment more before his mind settled on a decision and he uttered a single word: “Go.” 

There was only a split second of hesitation in the General’s eyes before he was running, and running, and the Knight hoped that he ran faster than he ever had before because he was all that little egg would have left once this is done. 

No one is that lucky without some sort of external acting force. 

He spat blood on the ground to grant the starving soil an offering before he raised his sword once again. 

____________________________

When the gloaming comes, the Knight is not surprised. Dawn will always end one way or another. People can claim to be the best, but it only takes so long before someone better sets them right. 

Heinrich was dead—and good riddance to that. It had taken enough of his self-control not to tarnish the man's grave the moment he was finally set in the ground. He had only lasted for a mere ten years before the other nations grew as hungry as he had been and decided he was prepped for a feast. They wanted mines, railways, and resources, and Heinrich was simply not as strong as the Draconia family had been when it came to keeping dogs away. 

Leah was gone, too—not dead, but he had sent her to the castle in the hopes that the stone walls would offer her some safety. He was not a man of faith, but he had selfishly prayed to the creator of that palace to take mercy on his wife, not for their sake, but for the baby that she cared for. Meleanor had been a mother like Leah and all he could hope is that she’d understand. 

He’s all that’s left of a bloody reign, and he feels it’s far overdue to put it to bed. He doesn’t want his son to grow up with a legacy of misery tied to his name. He doesn’t want his son to be looked at with fear, or resentment, because of the actions his cowardly father committed. All the Knight wishes for is for Leah and their baby to be free, to be loved, to be as far away from Briar Valley as they can possibly be because he has tarnished this place and there is no forgiveness left to give. Not that he deserved any.

When the sword pierces his chest, it’s a poetic irony. He wagers that him being killed in this manner is Meleanor’s revenge, and she’s only having someone else do it because her son has yet to be welcomed to this world. 

Good for her. 

The Knight falls to his knees and looks up at the faceless visage of the one who finally bested him. Blood is seeping down his armour and turning it from blessed silver to the colour of a violent dusk. He remembers hearing once that your life will flash before your eyes the moment you’re about to die, but instead of his life, a thousand thoughts appear.

He thinks of the egg that he’s orphaned and the parents that he took away. He thinks of the burning trees he bore witness too, the empty mines he walked through, and the poisoned lakes that were the result of their machines. He thinks of the many faceless bodies and the many forgotten names that were a direct result of his actions. A thousand years of reparations would do little to heal the wounds that he carved into this land because he could not bring himself to say ‘no’ to one man’s orders.

When the sword is wrenched free, he thinks of Leah, and how sorry he is to put her in this position.

When his vision goes black, he thinks of the king, and how he wishes the man never took him in to begin with.

When he finally goes numb, he thinks of his son, and how all he can do is hope that he turns out to be a better man than his father ever was. 

[mimisempai]

This unavoidable between us - Chapter 1/8

Summary

Aziraphale has known for a long time that if he doesn't find his soulmate before he turns forty, he'll die on his birthday. After years of ignoring this fact, he's forced to face up to reality and plan his last week, calling in an agency that makes dreams come true.

Crowley helps out his best friend, Nina, and takes her place in an escort agency. His mission: to accompany a client and help him realize all his dreams... as his lover.

Notes

Those who read my Mystrade will recognize the concept of this story. I couldn't resist rewriting it for the ineffable husbands. 

On Ao3

Rating G - 2962 words

Masterpost here

Aziraphale set his old alarm clock for eight, turned off the bedside lamp, and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to come. 

He had tried to read to fall asleep, but he couldn't concentrate, so he waited, his emotions a strange mixture of excitement and resignation.

Tomorrow was the first day of the last week of his life.

Tomorrow was the first day of the week when he would be able to realize all his secret dreams.

To leave without regrets.

He was ready.

In a world where the concept of having a soulmate was a part of everyday life, Aziraphale had known for a long time that it wasn't in the cards for him. Some lucky people found their soul mates when they were young, and most found them in college or graduate school, but Aziraphale hadn't been lucky enough to find his own soulmate. 

Or he hadn't recognized them.

There were many possible signs and rules. It could be a sign that appeared only in the presence of your soulmate, hearing your soulmate's thoughts, the world being only shades of gray until you met your soulmate, and other even more amazing signs.

As for Aziraphale, he knew only one thing about his soulmate.

If he didn't meet his soulmate and if they didn't declare their love for him before he turned forty, he would die on his fortieth birthday.

So for years he had searched every day to see if a mark had appeared on his body, every day he had addressed his thoughts to his unknown soulmate, hoping that they would answer him.

He would have liked to hear something, anything, but after a lifetime of loneliness, Aziraphale had finally come to terms with the idea that there was no other half waiting for him elsewhere.

He stopped talking to them when he reached the age of thirty. He stopped his daily ritual of waking up and whispering good morning to the void. 

He made that decision on his thirtieth birthday. He wasn't going to wait for someone who didn't exist.

So for ten years Aziraphale immersed himself in his work, ignoring the sword of Damocles hanging over his head, reducing his social contacts to a minimum, isolating himself more and more. Living in a bubble where he could ignore reality.

Then, a few months ago, reality came crashing back to him when Mr. Brown handed out the Whickber Street shopkeepers' meeting schedule for the first half of the year. 

One date caught his eye.

March 20, 2023.

The day after his birthday.

The day after the day he was supposed to die. 

Aziraphale had returned home completely broken. He had sat in his old red armchair for several hours, his dull eyes staring into the void around him. Unable to react. The only thought that came to him was the ineluctability of his fate. He'd realized he'd been playing hide-and-seek with death, like a child hiding his eyes, hoping no one would see him.

Then he'd done everything in his power to deny it. He had pushed it to the back of his mind, and refused to dwell on it. Until 8 weeks ago, he had thrown himself into his work, even more than usual, putting his books in one order and then another. Traveling the length and breadth of the region to find the rare pearl to add to his collection.

Refusing to dwell on what lay ahead. 

If he didn't think about it, it wouldn't happen. 

Absurd indeed, but better than facing the truth.

Then came the anger that had surprised him three weeks ago. He had felt it rise up inside him one morning and destroy everything in his room. He tore down the curtains, threw them on the floor, punched at the walls, broke everything he could get his hands on - jewelry, lamps, clothes, picture frames - finally releasing the anger of over twenty years. He destroyed everything in his path until, as his strength waned, he fell straight into the next phase: bargaining. He'd begged God for more time, gone to his grandmother's church, which he'd left years ago, and burned countless candles for a little more time.

Until he found himself at home, distraught and defeated by this fate.

The naked truth.

He was going to die, and nothing could change that. 

So he had finally come to terms with the inevitable and fully accepted his fate.

But Aziraphale was not the type to wait and do nothing until death came.

He would go, of course. But with style. With a bang.

If he left, it would be without regret.

In one week, he would try to fulfill as many of his dreams as possible, and began to write a kind of bucket list, from the most mundane to the most extravagant.

He had hung a small sign on the door of his bookstore, "Closed for vacation," to avoid questions.

Then he'd spent a few hours with his notary to organize his estate; he had no family, not even distant, so he'd left several charities to which the value of everything he owned would be divided after his death.

His way of leaving a small trace of himself in the world.

His bookshop.

He swallowed around the lump that formed in his throat, as it did every time he thought about it. Hopefully the next owner would love it as much as he did.

Aziraphale remembered that one day someone had passed out flyers on the street advertising a special agency that made people's dreams come true. Since Aziraphale kept everything, it wasn't hard to find among his papers. The flyer read "Make your life a dream" in colorful letters and was illustrated with photos of luxurious, paradisiacal landscapes. Without thinking twice, he picked up the phone and made an appointment for the next day. 

He had been greeted with a pleasant smile by a couple to whom he had described in detail what he wanted a few moments later.

Though he'd long since given up hope of finding a soulmate, Aziraphale had always harbored a secret hope of finding someone, if only for a few years. To have a comforting, loving presence in his life. But aside from a few fleeting lovers, he hadn't found THE one. 

Perhaps he was meant to live alone.

But for the last week of his life, Aziraphale was going to change that. He was going to live out his dreams, yes, but not alone, a whole week with a man who was educated, if possible, or at least curious, someone witty, to have all kinds of experiences he'd never been able to have because he'd never had a real, lasting relationship. The agency staff was very understanding and assured him that there would be no problems. They had also reminded him that the only obligation of the man he would choose was to keep him company; anything beyond that was at their discretion and outside of any financial exchange. 

Aziraphale was quite happy with this, as he was looking for pleasant company to spend the last days of his life on earth. 

For the next step, they had asked him for his program of activities for the week, while making it clear that he was free to change his plans up to the last minute. He gave a few guidelines for each day, but left himself some leeway. Once again, the agency complied. Probably his promise of an unlimited budget made them bend over backwards more than usual.

Then came the selection phase.

He had been presented with a catalog based on his criteria, and after passing over three candidates, he had found the person who seemed perfect. 

If only it had been that easy with his soul mate.

There was a close-up of his face and a head-to-toe photo. The man had hair the color red wouldn't be enough to describe, but what Aziraphale noticed first were the amber eyes that sparkled with gold. Then there was his smile, a mixture of sparkle and confidence. As for the rest, if he were honest, Aziraphale would have only one word to describe the red-haired man's slender body: tantalizing.

From the description, he seemed cultured, well-read, with a wide taste in music and movies, and a love of good food and wine. He was also 39, like Aziraphale, and there was no mention of his profession. 

Before Aziraphale told them of his decision, the agency people had pointed out that this was the man's first assignment. 

This had finally convinced Aziraphale to choose this candidate, and it was comforting to know that he wouldn't be the only one who was inexperienced in one way or another. 

Once he'd made up his mind, he was told the name of his future companion for this unusual week, Anthony Crowley. 

After paying a deposit, he had to fill out several forms, as well as a description sheet similar to the one he had just consulted. Then they had called in a photographer who had taken two snapshots of him. When he appeared a little confused, the people from the agency explained that they were going to send these to his future partner so that he could familiarize himself with Aziraphale, to get to know him a little first. 

That's how he was tonight, on the eve of his first meeting with this man.

He was going to live every day to the fullest, no matter how it ended.

Aziraphale visualized Anthony one last time and focused his mind on the days ahead, refusing to think about the inevitability of the seventh day. 

He fell asleep dreaming of tomorrow, of red hair and golden eyes.

**********

"Dear Mr. Crowley,

Enclosed you will find all the information about the week you will spend with the client. There is a sheet about the client so that you can familiarize yourself with his appearance and who he is. Please do not give this information to third parties, as stipulated in the attached contract. You'll also find the terms of the contract and some forms you'll need to return to us regarding insurance."

Crowley sighed and ran a hand over his face, still wondering what had possessed him to offer his help to Nina. He adored his best friend and was truly happy for her happiness, but that didn't stop him from resenting her for involving him in such a venture.

A few weeks ago, Nina had introduced him to Maggie, her girlfriend and soulmate. Seeing them together, Crowley had envied them. It was clear that they were made for each other. That's when Nina had told him about a problem that was a little uncomfortable for her. She had an escort contract with a high-end agency that made people's dreams come true. 

She'd been doing this for years, in addition to her regular job, to make ends meet, and also in the hope of meeting her soul mate there.

Now that she had Maggie in her life, she couldn't contemplate continuing this job, but she was under contract for one last mission, and if she broke the contract, she would lose her bonuses. So she had begged him to take her place just for this mission, insisting that it was just an escort role.

Crowley, who didn't like to see a friend in trouble, let alone Nina, had apparently agreed to help her. Besides, the fact that he was on sabbatical between jobs gave him the free time he needed. 

But even though he had wholeheartedly agreed, that didn't stop him from wondering what had possessed him now that the deadline was approaching.

Though he had no idea how to recognize his soulmate, Crowley had long believed that he would find them. Until a few years ago, when he saw people around him finding their better halves one by one while he remained hopelessly alone, he gave up on the idea of finding his soulmate and settled for casual relationships. 

Oh, he'd done some research, after all, he loved to collect data and now knew a lot about soulmates and the intricacies of the experience. About twenty percent of the English population had a soulmate who shared the same soul sign. About five percent had no visible shared mark, but experienced paranormal signs such as hearing their soulmate think, feeling what they felt, suffering when they suffered, seeing in color when they met, and other such phenomena. About two percent of the English population didn't have a soulmate, hooray for him, lucky he never tried his luck at gambling, he would have ended up broke. 

So, yes, Crowley knew a lot about soulmates, but not about his own, if he had one.

All he knew was that the day he met them, the moment he shook their hands, he'd know it was his soul mate.

In fact, it was as if he knew nothing. 

He'd shaken hands with a lot of people, but none of them had given him the signal: "Hey ho, it's me, your soulmate." 

Not one.

He shrugged. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it as well as he could so as not to get his best friend in trouble or lose her money.

He grabbed a bottle of Talisker from his minibar, poured himself a glass, and then grabbed the bundle of papers the agency had sent over before sitting down on the sofa with his feet up on the coffee table.

First he looked at the photos: the client was a man in his forties. He had adorable, messy blond curls and the brightest blue eyes he'd ever seen. 

Crowley took a sip of his drink and continued reading the file.

The man's name was Aziraphale Fell, a name he'd never heard before, and as he looked at the photo again, Crowley thought how lucky he was to be paid to spend time with such a cute guy. 

According to the agency's description, Aziraphale wanted to spend a week with a man, someone who was preferably well-read, and that he wanted to have all the kinds of experiences that a couple would have together and that he'd never been able to have because he'd never had a lasting relationship. 

Luckily for him, Crowley hadn't done it either, so they were on equal footing in terms of experience. That calmed Crowley down a bit, at least he wouldn't look too stupid.

Knowing the agency's policy on sexual intercourse, Crowley wasn't worried about that aspect of things, but he still wondered what the man wanted them to do together as he continued to scan the list.

When he got to the second page where the various activities were listed, he thought to himself that this job was more like a vacation than any vacation he'd ever planned for himself. In the end, there was a good chance that he wouldn't regret sacrificing his time and part of his budget for a wardrobe befitting the "role" he was about to play. 

Nina had told him he'd get a cut of the payoff for this mission, and that would more than cover his expenses. Crowley wasn't really in need, but it would allow him to spoil his younger sibling, Muriel, who was moving in with their soulmate, Eric. 

As for anonymity, he'd be in the clear a priori. Crowley's acquaintances, whose number could be counted on the fingers of one hand, didn't frequent the places listed in the agency's documents, so the chance of running into one of them was infinitesimally small. 

In short, everything was perfectly in order, and if the customer was pleasant, it might help Crowley forget for a moment the loneliness that weighed on him. This longing to have someone to laugh with, to discuss his thoughts and feelings with, just to share.

He took a sip of his drink, thinking about the irony of the situation. He was being paid to keep someone company, and his loneliness was so great that he welcomed it. 

His phone vibrated on the table in the living room, he grabbed it and saw that Nina had texted him.

Hey! Tomorrow's the big day, I hope you're ready.

Received at 10:30 p.m.

Yes, everything's fine. Don't pressure me, you moron!

Sent at 10:32 pm

Thanks again Crowley! You took a big thorn out of my side

Received 10:34 pm

No problem. I'm off to sleep, gotta look good tomorrow.

Sent 10:35 pm

You already do look good.

Received 10:37 pm

Crowley chuckled before typing his reply.

No need to flatter my ego, I've already signed.

Good night, Nina.

Sent 10:39 pm

Don't forget to tell me all about it.

Good night !

Received 10:40 pm

Crowley put the phone down, went over all the papers and the contract one last time, and signed the necessary forms required by the agency.

He had to meet Aziraphale tomorrow at 2 pm. That would give him time to go to the agency to hand in the signed contracts and pick up the various bookings and tickets for the next seven days.

He was both impatient and anxious because he'd never done this before. Not to mention that his experience with romance was rather thin, as he had never had much luck in his past relationships. 

In any case, he would try to make the most of this week.

Crowley turned off the TV, packed his things and went to bed.

He didn't have much trouble falling asleep.

After all, at worst the client would find him boring and the week would end quickly, and at best he'd have a good time with no consequences. 

Nothing worse than his present life.

Only time would tell.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here