#Elysee rose

[magistralucis]

@love-and-pigeons!

[head-post]

Paralympics in France open with stunning ceremony

French President Emmanuel Macron on Wednesday announced the start of the 2024 Summer Paralympic Games in Paris.

The opening ceremony of the games, which lasted more than three hours, this time took place outside the stadium. The historic Place de la Concorde near the Champs-Elysees welcomed more than 4,000 athletes.

More than ten temporary stands were set up on the square. French police and military took strict security measures at the opening ceremony. Some metro stations in the city were closed for security reasons, many streets were closed to traffic. About 15,000 law enforcement officers were involved in the ceremony, but the feeling of a light summer evening was in the air as the sun slowly set on the French capital.

International Paralympic Committee president Andrew Parsons also attended the opening ceremony.

Paris 2024 president Tony Estanguet said in his speech:

Dear athletes, welcome to the country of love and revolution. Rest assured, tonight, no Storming of the Bastille, no guillotine, because tonight the most beautiful revolution starts — the paralympic revolution. It’s a sweet revolution that will change all of us deeply.

The live show began at the foot of the obelisk on Place de la Concorde with Canadian musician, songwriter and producer Chilly Gonzalez performing at the piano.

Artists with disabilities and impairments shouted the countdown and French singer Christine and the Queens performed Edith Piaf’s “Je ne regrette rien.”

The event, led by Swedish choreographer Alexander Ekman and featuring 500 artists, was dubbed “Paradox, from discord to concord,” a thinly veiled reference to the Place de la Concorde, where the ceremony concluded in front of more than 50,000 spectators. The parade of athletes from 168 delegations started from the bottom of the Champs-Elysees in a festive atmosphere, with volunteers cheering and dancing.

As the French closing in on the parade entered the square, the theme to Yann Tiersen’s “Amelie” played over the loudspeaker, and the crowd chanted  “Allez Les Bleus” with the glittering Eiffel Tower as a backdrop.

Last month’s Olympic opening ceremony was held in torrential rain, which failed to dampen the enthusiasm of the spectators gathered along the Seine River. The ceremony went off without any security glitches, although it sparked controversy over a scoreboard that appeared to parody Leonardo da Vinci’s “Last Supper.”

The Paralympic flag was carried by Britain’s John McFall, who won a bronze medal in the 100 metres at the 2008 Beijing Paralympic Games and became the first person with a disability to be actually cleared for future flights by the European Space Agency.

The ceremony ended with the lighting of the competition flame bowl by five athletes. The balloon-shaped bowl rose into the sky above Paris after the lighting, symbolising the start of the 2024 Paralympics.

Read more HERE

[mustafaalgunblog]

A Walking Tour in the Legendary Neighborhood of Montmartre in Paris.

These words come to mind when Paris is mentioned.

travel,blogging,mustafaalgün,vlog,paris,montmartre,walking tour,restaurant,art,accordion,amelie,adele skyfall,bob marley,beauty and the beast,belle et la bete,bakery,bracelet,basilica,dalida,sacre coeur,france,history,sinking house,Rue Foyatier,zaz,je veux,john wick 4,l'amour,moulin rouge,mercure,never again,artists square,125 rue,pink rose,stairs,steps,van gogh,walk around,what to do,where to eat,keanu,loulou,Picasso,love wall,travel guide,travel vlog, alain delon,aligot,anarkia,arc de triomphe,art,baguette,banon,bastille,beaufort,belle,best places,big bus,bisque,bleu d auvergne,blogging,boheme,bohemian,bonaparte,bonjour,bouchees,boudoirs,bouillabaisse,bourguignon,boursin,bretons,brie,brigitte bardot,brocciu,buddha bar,cabecou,caesar,cafe de flore,camembert,canal saint martin,cancoyotte,cassoulet,catacombs,cemetery,cantal,champagne,champs elysees,chapelle, charcuterie,cheese fondue,cinema,city sightseeing,comte,concorde,creme brulee,croissant,culture,death of diana,day trip,daily trip,daily tour,di,diana,disneyland paris,eiffel,edith piaf,emmental,escargot,esmeralda,eu,europe,elysee palace,exploring,epoisses,fashion,fayette,film,flambee,foie gras,fondue,fourme ambert,fr,france,franciaország,frank,frankreich,frankrijk,francia,fransa,fransa vlog,fransada yaşam,frederic chopin,french cuisine,fromage,galettes,galettes bretonnes,gitanes,gitans,gypsy,gypsies,gallery,gastronomie,gopro,grand palais,grand slam,haute cuisine,henri cartier bresson,hero11,history,holiday,hoponhopoff,invalides,jambon,jean luc godard,jim morrison,la fayette,lachaise,lachaise cemetery,latin quarter,livarot,louvre,louvre pyramid,love,Luxembourg Gardens,lumiere,macaron,marais,maroilles,metro,metropolitain,mimolette,moda,mona lisa,montmartre,montparnasse,moulin rouge,munster,museedorsay,Musée d'Orsay,museum,napoleon,napoleon bonaparte,notre dame,omelette,orangerie,orsay museum,oscar wilde,ossau iraty,palais garnier,palmier,pantheon,paris,parisian,parisienne,paris fashion week,paris france,paris things to do,

[agentpeggycarterrogers]

Peggy laughed. “I love all of you,” she replied. “Your arms to wrap around me, your chest to lean against, your eyes because I love the way you look at me, your lips because I can kiss you. All of you, my handsome, fit, brilliant, sweet husband.” 

A parasol did sound nice. “Perhaps we should’ve bought one on the Champs-Elysees. I’m sure we’ll find plenty of shade, though. That does sound sweet, to hold a parasol while we row across the lake.” 

They wandered through the paths of the park, stopping to see the beautiful flowers and to take pictures of the scenery, the roses, and the trees. “There’s a garden of just roses, and a botanical garden in here. It’s so peaceful, a patch of nature and greenery in the middle of a city. It’s beautiful here.”

@steven-g-rogers

Steve laughed and bumped her with his shoulder. "Oh it's my arms you like best?" he asked. "I always thought it was my chest."

His hand slipped into her and he linked their fingers. "It sounds nice. I wish we had a parasol though. I can picture those French impressionist paintings of a lake and lots of flowers, and a couple in a row boat. Her with a big dress and a parasol."

He vaguely wished he had some water colors with him. A quiet afternoon in a park in Paris seemed to be the perfect time to try his hand at it. But not to worry. He could always try that when he got home based on his photos and the memories of the trip."

When they arrived at the part, Steve was happy to let Peggy guide him. He held her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Let's just wander and see where fate takes us."

@agentpeggycarterrogers

[crackspinewornpages]

Les Misérables 340/365 -Victor Hugo

331 

The police fulfilled their duties in the sewers, the revolt was no excuse to allow malefactors to take their bit, ordinary service along with extraordinary. (well that’s something at least) The bank of the Siene beyond the Pont de Invalides isn't there anymore but now two men watch and avoid each other, the latter was trying to overtake the one in front. No one saw them, the shore was deserted, the first man in tatters the other in a coat of authority. (wonder who they could be) The second man had a coach follow as the first man made an escape into Champs-Elysee further along the shore, what was he doing if not throwing himself in the Siene. The man climbed a wall of rubbish and was out of sight, when the authority caught up the man was gone. Where the water began there was an iron grating opened by a government key, so the authority stood watch over it. 

332 

Valjean marched on laboriously through the tunnels, his strength decreased little by age began to give way by fatigue. After three hours he reached the belt sewer, and he picked the broadest tunnel descending. Extremely weary, he set down Marius, his limbs were cold and he was covered in blood, but his heart was still beating. Valjean used his shirt as bandages and he gazed at him with hatred, he found Marius’s letter on where to take his body. Valjean picked him back up and carried him on no longer under central Paris and in terrible darkness. 

333 

Now there was only mud under his feet, like a man on a deserted shore doesn’t know the danger of quicksand until it’s too late, before the work of 1833 Paris’s drains were like this. Can you picture a death of being swallowed by a cesspool, (there have been deaths of people drowning in septic tanks historically look up the Erfurt Latrine Disaster) here death is a filthy humiliation. (that disaster gives a whole new meaning to filthy rich) The law of safety is to get rid of every load, sewer men and scavengers alike weren't cautious and were lost. 

334 

Valjean was in this quagmire in 1836, the stone sewer beneath Foubourg Saint-Honore that Valjean was in was demolished and formed a quicksand that lasted six months. What Valjean was in was covered by the downpour the day before, he had no choice but to pass through even deeper to his waist, the mud couldn’t hold two. He advanced but he was sinking up to his head still holding Marius. (let’s be real in real life Marius would be dead you live in a time without strong antibiotics or vaccines and you take a man who was shot and drag him through neck deep sewage he’d get like twenty types of diseases and infections) His feet felt something solid, and he rooted himself back up on by another watershed at the end of the quagmire. On stone he fell to his knees and stayed there for some time addressing God. “He rose to his feet, shivering, chilled, foul-smelling, bowed beneath the dying man whom he was dragging after him, all dripping with slime, and his soul filled with strange light.”p.823  

335 

While he hadn't lost his life, he lost his strength, pausing for breath every few steps, but he still had energy to keep going. A hundred paces later he came to a wall, above the vault was daylight. Valjean he no longer felt tired or Marius’s weight he ran to the outlet and stopped, he couldn’t get out, the grating was locked. He laid Marius down and took hold of the bars, they didn’t move. What to do he couldn’t go back even if he got through the quagmire again where to go, every other outlet was most likely closed too. He escaped into a prison, what had he done was useless, (he escaped from one prison to be on the run to escape into another later in life the irony) in anguish he thought of Cosette. 

336 

In the gloom he felt a hand on his shoulder the man said half shares it was Thenardier. (the bitch returns) Valjean was covered in so much filth Thenardier didn’t recognize him. Thenardier assumes he killed Marius and he so happens to have a key to the grate give him half of what he robbed and he’ll free him and throw in a rope to sling the stiff into the river. Valjean stayed silent and Thenardier talks and so Valjean took the rope and dug in his pockets and realized he forgot his pocketbook and only had a few coins to Thenaerdier’s disgust. While searching Marius’s jacket Thenardier tore off a strip to turn the identity to the police later. He took the coins and threw Valjean the key and had him follow outside before turning back in. 

337 

They were in open air, evening was unfolding, Valjean was serene for a moment. He returned to duty with Marius, he still breathed, he dipped his hands in the river when he sensed someone behind him, Javert. (this bitch also returns) He had pursued the Thenardier affair, after his release he went to the Prefect and went on duty again. Thenardier had sensed he was being watched and had thrown an assassin in his path so he would be forgotten and escape. Javert didn’t recognize Valjean either until Valjean told him, Javert seized him and Valjean asks only one favor but Javert released him demanding to know why he is here and who this man is. Valjean only wants to get Marius home Javert knows he was at the barricade and calls him a dead man, not yet. Valjean pulls out the note with his address, Javert calls the coachman and they are all driven. “every time that it passed in front of a street lantern, appeared to be turned lividly wan, as by an intermittent flash of lightening, chance had united and seemed to be bringing face to face the three forms of tragic immobility, the corpse, the spectre, and the statue.”p.830 

338 

The old quarter was already asleep terrified of Revolutions when it stopped Valjean took Marius out of the carriage helped by the coachman as Javert informed the porter that they bring Gillenormand’s son. They refused Mademoiselle Gillenormand and let the old man sleep and took Marius to the first floor. Valjean left with Javert doing another favor to be taken home. 

339 

Valjean was going to tell Cosette what happened to Marius and give her information to take final measures. Any other man would have made use of the rope in his cell but the Bishop made a lasting impression on him. Javert paid the coachman for the rides and ruined interior before following Valjean to his home and stood waiting for him to return. Valjean was surprised Javert didn’t have haughty confidence in catching him when he looked out the window on the first floor Javert was gone. (where do you think he went) 

340 

Marius was laid on a sofa in the drawing room and a doctor was sent for, he found no mortal wounds and he was still alive. (he might not have mortal wounds but he’s covered in shit) They cleaned him up and treated his injuries, when wiping his face a figure entered the drawing room, Gillenormand. The two-day revolt left him agitated and the noise in the room next to his woke him. Gillenormand trembled at the sight of him believing he’s dead, got himself killed out of hatred for him, (no it’s for an even stupider reason) this is how he returns. He had his room arranged and his childhood portrait at his own bed, he knew he was waiting for him, and he killed himself for revenge. (no it was for a few month love affair over a girl he obsessed over and stalked for a year) He went on that he raised him, but no fault of his he took after his father, but all children are innocent of their father’s crimes. He remembered when he was small, those brats take hold of you. He went off to fight and got himself shot down for why, the Republic, (they weren’t even his friends) instead of being young he is dead, and he will die too, and angry says he won't grieve him. It was then Marius opened his eyes Gillenormand cries out in relief for him to look at him before fainting. 

NEXT

[whatilistenedtoatwork]

From May 15th to May 19th, 2023

My computer was broken for the last two months. During that time, I listened to LOTS of music at work, but it is unlogged. I have my computer back, so the log continues!

15-05-23

LED ZEPPELIN “Led Zeppelin III”; GEORGE HARRISON “Dark Horse”; WILSON PICKETT “In The Midnight Hour”; BE-BOP DELUXE “Axe Victim”; PLANXTY “Cold Blow And The Rainy Night”; COUNTING CROWS “Live At The Elysee Montmartre”; STEREOLAB “Peng!”; DEAD PREZ “Let’s Get Free”; THE JAM “In The City”; ESG “Come Away With ESG”; PETER TOSH “Legalize It”

16-05-23

ARETHA FRANKLIN “Yeah!!!”; RUFUS THOMAS “Walking The Dog”; KANYE WEST “VH1’s Storytellers”; SQUEEZE “A Round & A Bout”; BLACK SABBATH “Live In The UK, 1973”; GUNS N’ ROSES “Live In New York, Ritz Theatre – May 16, 1991”; ECHOBELLY “Everyone’s Got One” ELECTRIC LIGHT ORCHESTRA “On The Third Day”; JUNIOR MURVIN “Police & Thieves”

17-05-23

LOUDON WAINWRIGHT III “Loudon Wainwright III”; WATERSON:CARTHY “Waterson:Carthy”; THE WATERBOYS “The Waterboys”; BOB DYLAN “Slow Train Coming”; NIC JONES “Penguin Eggs”; THE BOTHY BAND “Old Hag You Have Killed Me”; NEIL INNES “The Innes Book Of Records”; KIRSTY MacCOLL “Desperate Character”; PAUL & LINDA MacCARTNEY “Ram”; TINY TIM “God Bless Tiny Tim”

18-05-23

CHARLES MINGUS “Astral Weeks”; CHARLES MINGUS “The Black Saint & The Sinner Lady”; ELLA FITZGERALD “Ella Fitzgerald Sings The Cole Porter Songbook”; DUKE ELLINGTON “The OKeh Ellington”; BE-BOP DELUXE “Futurama”; DJ SHADOW “Endtroducing”; RIDE “Nowhere”; THE DURUTTI COLUMN “The Return Of The Durutti Column”; SLEATER-KINNEY “All Hands On The Bad One”; THE SULTANS OF PING FC “Casual Sex In The Cineplex”; PATTI SMITH “Horses”

19-05-23

TORI AMOS “Boys For Pele”; NINA SIMONE “The Amazing Nina Simone”; JURASSIC 5 “Jurassic 5”; THE COUP “Genocide & Juice”; RANCID “Let’s Go!”; TRICKY “Maxinquaye”; IGGY POP “Lust For Life”; HOLE “Pretty On The Inside”

[gadgetsforusesblog]

Macron challenges Tesla's Musk and others to 'choose France' by Reuters

©Reuters. FILE PHOTO: French President Emmanuel Macron reacts, as he waits to welcome United Arab Emirates President Sheikh Mohammed bin Zayed Al Nahyan ahead of a working dinner at the Elysee Palace in Paris, France, May 11, 2023. REUTERS/Sarah Meyssonnier By Michel Rose and Tassilo Hummel PARIS (Reuters) – President Emmanuel Macron met with Tesla (NASDAQ:) CEO Elon Musk, the head of Pfizer…

[konu-d]

A bit of La Vie en Rose, perhaps? Slight tinge of L’amour Existe Encore? Maybe even Les Champs-Elysees just for the irony points :))))))))))

KONU (@konu-d ) JUST TURN IT INTO A POST YOURE GOING TO KILL ME FROM THIS EDGUDA IDEA ISTG ok cliche as it might be for some reason hes the type to sing 'cant help falling in love' istg i do not know why....but somehow i imagine him singing it....

[pilferingapples]

Les Miserables Daily : 5.2.3, Bruneseau

Real excited to be starting this readalong! Going in chronological order should be an exciting experience for us all, I’m sure!  Thanks to @alicedrawslesmis for suggesting running this experience via the Tumblr queue; I can’t think of a website I trust more!  We’re starting our readalong in 1805 with everyone’s favorite character, Bruneseau!

The sewer of Paris in the Middle Ages was legendary. In the sixteenth century, Henri II. attempted a bore, which failed. Not a hundred years ago, the cess-pool, Mercier attests the fact, was abandoned to itself, and fared as best it might.

Such was this ancient Paris, delivered over to quarrels, to indecision, and to gropings. It was tolerably stupid for a long time. Later on, '89 showed how understanding comes to cities. But in the good, old times, the capital had not much head. It did not know how to manage its own affairs either morally or materially, and could not sweep out filth any better than it could abuses. Everything presented an obstacle, everything raised a question. The sewer, for example, was refractory to every itinerary. One could no more find one's bearings in the sewer than one could understand one's position in the city; above the unintelligible, below the inextricable; beneath the confusion of tongues there reigned the confusion of caverns; Daedalus backed up Babel.

Sometimes the Paris sewer took a notion to overflow, as though this misunderstood Nile were suddenly seized with a fit of rage. There occurred, infamous to relate, inundations of the sewer. At times, that stomach of civilization digested badly, the cess-pool flowed back into the throat of the city, and Paris got an after-taste of her own filth. These resemblances of the sewer to remorse had their good points; they were warnings; very badly accepted, however; the city waxed indignant at the audacity of its mire, and did not admit that the filth should return. Drive it out better.

The inundation of 1802 is one of the actual memories of Parisians of the age of eighty. The mud spread in cross-form over the Place des Victoires, where stands the statue of Louis XIV.; it entered the Rue Saint-Honore by the two mouths to the sewer in the Champs-Elysees, the Rue Saint-Florentin through the Saint-Florentin sewer, the Rue Pierre-a-Poisson through the sewer de la Sonnerie, the Rue Popincourt, through the sewer of the Chemin-Vert, the Rue de la Roquette, through the sewer of the Rue de Lappe; it covered the drain of the Rue des Champs-Elysees to the height of thirty-five centimetres; and, to the South, through the vent of the Seine, performing its functions in inverse sense, it penetrated the Rue Mazarine, the Rue de l'Echaude, and the Rue des Marais, where it stopped at a distance of one hundred and nine metres, a few paces distant from the house in which Racine had lived, respecting, in the seventeenth century, the poet more than the King. It attained its maximum depth in the Rue Saint-Pierre, where it rose to the height of three feet above the flag-stones of the water-spout, and its maximum length in the Rue Saint-Sabin, where it spread out over a stretch two hundred and thirty-eight metres in length.

At the beginning of this century, the sewer of Paris was still a mysterious place. Mud can never enjoy a good fame; but in this case its evil renown reached the verge of the terrible. Paris knew, in a confused way, that she had under her a terrible cavern. People talked of it as of that monstrous bed of Thebes in which swarmed centipedes fifteen long feet in length, and which might have served Behemoth for a bathtub. The great boots of the sewermen never ventured further than certain well-known points. We were then very near the epoch when the scavenger's carts, from the summit of which Sainte-Foix fraternized with the Marquis de Crequi, discharged their loads directly into the sewer. As for cleaning out,-- that function was entrusted to the pouring rains which encumbered rather than swept away. Rome left some poetry to her sewer, and called it the Gemoniae; Paris insulted hers, and entitled it the Polypus-Hole. Science and superstition were in accord, in horror. The Polypus hole was no less repugnant to hygiene than to legend. The goblin was developed under the fetid covering of the Mouffetard sewer; the corpses of the Marmousets had been cast into the sewer de la Barillerie; Fagon attributed the redoubtable malignant fever of 1685 to the great hiatus of the sewer of the Marais, which remained yawning until 1833 in the Rue Saint-Louis, almost opposite the sign of the Gallant Messenger. The mouth of the sewer of the Rue de la Mortellerie was celebrated for the pestilences which had their source there; with its grating of iron, with points simulating a row of teeth, it was like a dragon's maw in that fatal street, breathing forth hell upon men. The popular imagination seasoned the sombre Parisian sink with some indescribably hideous intermixture of the infinite. The sewer had no bottom. The sewer was the lower world. The idea of exploring these leprous regions did not even occur to the police. To try that unknown thing, to cast the plummet into that shadow, to set out on a voyage of discovery in that abyss--who would have dared? It was alarming. Nevertheless, some one did present himself. The cess-pool had its Christopher Columbus.

One day, in 1805, during one of the rare apparitions which the Emperor made in Paris, the Minister of the Interior, some Decres or Cretet or other, came to the master's intimate levee. In the Carrousel there was audible the clanking of swords of all those extraordinary soldiers of the great Republic, and of the great Empire; then Napoleon's door was blocked with heroes; men from the Rhine, from the Escaut, from the Adige, and from the Nile; companions of Joubert, of Desaix, of Marceau, of Hoche, of Kleber; the aerostiers of Fleurus, the grenadiers of Mayence, the pontoon-builders of Genoa, hussars whom the Pyramids had looked down upon, artillerists whom Junot's cannon-ball had spattered with mud, cuirassiers who had taken by assault the fleet lying at anchor in the Zuyderzee; some had followed Bonaparte upon the bridge of Lodi, others had accompanied Murat in the trenches of Mantua, others had preceded Lannes in the hollow road of Montebello. The whole army of that day was present there, in the court-yard of the Tuileries, represented by a squadron or a platoon, and guarding Napoleon in repose; and that was the splendid epoch when the grand army had Marengo behind it and Austerlitz before it.--"Sire," said the Minister of the Interior to Napoleon, "yesterday I saw the most intrepid man in your Empire."--"What man is that?" said the Emperor brusquely, "and what has he done?"--"He wants to do something, Sire."--"What is it?"--"To visit the sewers of Paris."

This man existed and his name was Bruneseau.

[qaasid]

Out for a walk, after a week in bed, I find them tearing up part of my block And, chilled through, dazed and lonely, join the dozen In meek attitudes, watching a huge crane Fumble luxuriously in the filth of years. Her jaws dribble rubble. An old man Laughs and curses in her brain, Bringing to mind the close of The White Goddess.

As usual in New York, everything is torn down Before you have had time to care for it. Head bowed, at the shrine of noise, let me try to recall What building stood here. Was there a building at all? I have lived on this same street for a decade.

Wait. Yes. Vaguely a presence rises Some five floors high, of shabby stone —Or am I confusing it with another one In another part of town, or of the world?— And over its lintel into focus vaguely Misted with blood (my eyes are shut) A single garland sways, stone fruit, stone leaves, Which years of grit had etched until it thrust Roots down, even into the poor soil of my seeing. When did the garland become part of me? I ask myself, amused almost, Then shiver once from head to toe,

Transfixed by a particular cheap engraving of garlands Bought for a few francs long ago, All calligraphic tendril and cross-hatched rondure, Ten years ago, and crumpled up to stanch Boughs dripping, whose white gestures filled a cab, And thought of neither then nor since. Also, to clasp them, the small, red-nailed hand Of no one I can place. Wait. No. Her name, her features

Lie toppled underneath that year’s fashions. The words she must have spoken, setting her face To fluttering like a veil, I cannot hear now, Let alone understand.

So that I am already on the stair, As it were, of where I lived, When the whole structure shudders at my tread And soundlessly collapses, filling The air with motes of stone. Onto the still erect building next door Are pressed levels and hues— Pocked rose, streaked greens, brown whites. Who drained the pousse-cafe? Wires and pipes, snapped off at the roots, quiver.

Well, that is what life does. I stare A moment longer, so. And presently The massive volume of the world Closes again.

Upon that book I swear To abide by what it teaches: Gospels of ugliness and waste, Of towering voids, of soiled gusts, Of a shrieking to be faced Full into, eyes astream with cold—

With cold? All right then. With self-knowledge.

Indoors at last, the pages of Time are apt To open, and the illustrated mayor of New York, Given a glimpse of how and where I work, To note yet one more house that can be scrapped.

Unwillingly I picture My walls weathering in the general view. It is not even as though the new Buildings did very much for architecture. Suppose they did. The sickness of our time requires That these as well be blasted in their prime. You would think the simple fact of having lasted Threatened our cities like mysterious fires.

There are certain phrases which to use in a poem Is like rubbing silver with quicksilver. Bright But facile, the glamour deadens overnight. For instance, how “the sickness of our time”

Enhances, then debases, what I feel. At my desk I swallow in a glass of water No longer cordial, scarcely wet, a pill They had told me not to take until much later.

With the result that back into my imagination The city glides, like cities seen from the air, Mere smoke and sparkle to the passenger Having in mind another destination

Which now is not that honey-slow descent Of the Champs-Elysees, her hand in his, But the dull need to make some kind of house Out of the life lived, out of the love spent.

James Merrill

[ikeromantic]

Designing Men

An ikevamp Leonardo story, approx. 1500 words of pure fluffy goodness.

First: That First Night

Previous: Three Words

Leonardo was up early. He hadn’t been able to sleep well after his ‘nap’ in the library. All he could think of was the touch of cara’s lips on his own and the sound of her muffled sobs as she cried herself to sleep. Leo wanted to make it up to her - it being the distance he put between them. He needed to make her happy, even if that joy was only fleeting. 

The kitchen was empty when he got there. He set about making a pot of coffee. He sat down on a stool beside the counter and stared at the kettle, waiting for it to boil.

“A watched pot never boils, old friend.” Comte spoke from the doorway, one hand on the frame.

“That so? I’m pretty sure it heats at the same rate.” Leo grinned. “Anyway, what are you doing up at this hour?”

Le Comte shrugged. “I have business to attend to in town. The appointment is quite early.”

Leonardo’s eyebrows rose.

“Nothing you’d be interested in. Just visiting some clothiers.”

“Because you need another closet full of clothes?” Leo chuckled. The kettle began to hiss, and he took a moment to pull it off the heat and pour it over the coffee grounds. The rich scent filled the room, a heady good morning for a man that loved to sleep.

Comte waited for him to pour the coffee before answering. “It isn’t for me. But if you’ll remember, there’s a lovely young lady under our roof with a fancy party to attend. I plan to get her the most expensive gown in Paris, with jewelry to match. A little token of my affection.”

Leonardo took a moment to process this. “My cara mia? You’re buying her dress?” He blinked. “But I’m her date.”

“Yes, and it was very kind of you to agree to escort her. I’m sure seeing the two of you out together will quiet your -”

“Comte. I should be buying her dress.” Leonardo’s golden eyes met his old friend’s amber ones. The silence between them was thick. 

Le Comte was the first to turn away, looking to the side as he took a cautious sip of coffee. “Normally, yes, of course. But you’ve no interest in this beyond the practical benefit - right? It’s not as if you care what the girl wears.”

Which was generally true. Leonardo cared little about fashion or high society. But for his cara . . . that was different. He wanted her to have a gown that was as special as she was. “I care if I’m the escort.” He gave his old friend a half-smile. “But I think you knew that. More of your meddling?”

“If you want to call it that.” Comte set his coffee down. “I leave in fifteen minutes. Should I assume you’ll be accompanying me?”

“Make it ten.” Leonardo rushed upstairs to change his shirt and find his good shoes. There was one thing he knew about shopping with le Comte. It would be an all day affair.

The two men arrived in town. The coach let them off near the Champs Elysees, where all the modern, fashionable shops did business. Most were still closed at this hour, but one had their light on. The sign read House of Worth in bold, gold letters. An old man stood by the door, waiting. When he spotted them, he waved.

“Monsieur le Comte, welcome. Welcome. And I see you’ve brought an assistant?” The man had a distinct British accent and something about him looked familiar to Leonardo, though he couldn’t place it.

“Yes, thank you Charles. This is my dear friend, Leonard. Leo, this is our clothier - Monsieur Charles Worth.” Comte introduced them as they were led inside.

The dressmaker shook Leo’s hand. “Please, call me Charles. Any friend of le Comte is a friend of mine.” He was practically wagging his tail with excitement. 

Leonardo had the distinct feeling Comte must have made many purchases from this shop to be on such terms with the man. He couldn’t help but wonder how many times his old friend needed to buy a lady a fancy dress. Probably best not to ask.

Charles led them to a comfortably appointed back room. He’d already hung several racks with swaths of fabric. There was a deep blue dangerously close to blue de France, a pale golden yellow, wavering dip-dyed red, and a green that was the same shade as a flower bud in spring. 

“You know, normally the lady in question is present to match the tone of the dye to her skin, hair, and eyes. Is it possible to -”

Comte shook his head, interrupting. “No, Charles. This is meant to be a surprise. I’m afraid you’ll have to trust us on the color.”

“Yes, of course, but I don’t see how I’m to determine the cut and measurements and -”

This time it was Leonardo that spoke over the clothier. “I’m an artist and a designer myself. And I know all her measurements. Let’s get on with it.”

“Oh? Indeed, sirs.” Charles’ eyebrows went up as he said it but his tone was still obsequious. Had it not been for his vampiric hearing, Leo would have missed the muttered “Know-it-all-amatuer artists” the clothier added under his breath. 

Predictably, Comte went for the red material first. He was always drawn to scarlet and ruby tones. Leonardo ignored his friend’s chatter with the dressmaker, focusing instead on how the colors would look against his cara’s skin. Warm tones would look better, he decided. Something less the color of gore and more the color of caramel or chocolate. Sweet as she was.

“‘Scuse,” he interrupted. “The lady would look better in -” He let his eyes travel around the room, settling on a deep cocoa colored silk. “That.” 

“Monsieur, with all due respect, that color is an accent at best. This year’s fashion tends toward light and bright and -” Charles’ hands danced through the air, outlining the dress silhouettes he was imagining.

Leo grinned. “Sure. But this lady needs that fabric.” 

Charles looked to le Comte.

“I am afraid I must yield to my friend. Leonard will be her escort and knows her tastes better than I.”

Leonardo and Charles went through an entire shipment of various chocolate and cinnamon tones, each just slightly different than the one before. With dye chosen, there was fabric finish and weight, weave and thread count. Comte sat himself down with a small, satisfied smile.

Two hours later, the three men were hunched over a desk, exchanging charcoal sketches on thin sheets of paper. Leonardo proffered three designs for his cara while Charles had one he had labored over for some time. 

“I swear to you, monsieur, this one is in fashion this season. Your lady friend will be the toast of the event with this hemline and cold shoulder. Like a goddess.” Charles pushed the sketch to le Comte hopefully.

Leo snagged it, studying the lines of the gown. “It’s actually not bad,” he admitted. “But perhaps some adjustment - she’s delicate. This much fabric will drown her.”

The clothier sniffed. “I don’t know why you asked me to offer anything. I am the premier couturiere in Paris and you hate all my designs.”

“I don’t hate ‘em,” Leo awkwardly patted the offended man’s shoulder. “I just know her better than you.” This seemed to mollify Charles a bit and he bent forward to see what changes were being suggested.

“I rather like this one,” Comte pushed one of Leo’s designs in front of the two men. “You could adopt the cold shoulder Charles loves and the lower hem - yes? And the other gown - “ he pointed to the sketch Leo was re-working, “We could order that in a deep carmine. For some other occasion, of course.” 

Charles was nodding at this. “Yes, I like that idea. Two dresses for the lucky lady. A girl can never have too much finery.”

Comte gave a wry laugh. “You are not wrong, friend.” 

It took a bit longer to wrangle the embroidery and other finishings for both gowns. Leonardo’s selections were more subdued than le Comte, but then, they’d always had different tastes. Leo was still looking over the last bits when le Comte finished and stepped out for some air.

“You know, monsieur,” Charles said, his voice pitched for Leo’s ear only. “You have an eye for design. A bit rough and in need of my guidance but still. If you are ever looking for work, my team would be happy to bring you on.”

Leonardo couldn’t hold in a laugh, which earned him an offended look from the clothier. “Ah Charles, I don’t mean to make light of your offer. I’m just no clothing designer. This is my one time effort for a girl I - a girl that’s special to me.”

Charles nodded after a moment. “I see, monsieur. Nevertheless, you have an eye. My offer stands.”

“I appreciate the compliment.” Leonardo shook the clothier’s hand. “I’ll be back in a few days to check on progress.”

Comte met Leo out front. He wore the most insufferable smug smile. “So. That was fun. Want to come with me to pick out the jewelry?”

“I’d better or you’ll have her dressed in nothing but rubies and diamonds,” Leonardo replied.

“There are worse outcomes,” Comte said speculatively. “I for one, would not mind seeing her in nothing but jewelry . . .”

Leo shot him a hot glare. 

Comte just laughed.

Next: Not Alone

**sidenote** Charles Frederick Worth was a real person, and considered the father of modern day haute couture. I just imagine Comte would be one of his special clients, entitled to a private session with the famous designer.**

[zelda-ffitzgerald3]

On one side they have Mescondi and Nina, on the other KP and this new mutual and Handsome Jimmy thrown into the mix. What has happened? For him, he used to literally hang out with some decent HW crowds once upon a time and even NF, at least it used to be Elysee and the Greta’s of the world. I guess the loose lips around them make perfect sense.

He used to be in with Kaia Gerber, Lily-Rose Depp, Margaret Qualley. Now it’s some weird lady who shits in the street and Mescondi who can’t even afford a hotel.

It’s watching someone’s downfall in real time.

[starkcontrasts]

lana's departure scene at the airport, her saying goodbye to lex, lex telling her maybe he'll see her at the champs elysees (did I spell that right??) bc he hasn't been in paris for years but now he has a reason to go, clark seeing them in the background and disappearing just as lana sees him, with the whole moment ending with lana seeing clark's rose on the ground is uNEcessarily sad and the soundtrack goes so hard it sends you through the last 3 seasons of emotions what evennn

[quickspinner]

I’ll Give You the Stars - Ch 3 Share Your Dreams with Me

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Luka was about ready to nominate Penny Rolling for sainthood. It had become crystal clear over the past couple of days that while Jagged could put his name in the spotlight for a brief flurry of publicity, it was Penny who could actually get his foot in the door of the industry. It was Penny who had sent Luka a list of classes and private tutors he should consider, not only on musical subjects like composition and performance, but on business and publicity as well. It was Penny who gave him tips for handling the media attention his unexpected performance had temporarily garnered, and asked for his approval on the press statement she had prepared for Jagged. 

It was Penny who kept him from being completely overwhelmed and paralyzed with her prioritized action item list, and included with that list were applications for music scholarships Jagged sponsored—both for his age group and Juleka’s. Because chasing your dreams costs money, after all.

She’d also suggested he consider selling some of his compositions, and implied that Jagged Stone would love to have the first chance at whatever he came up with.  

Luka had to take a long walk to calm down after she’d suggested his music might actually sell. That Jagged Stone might be willing to perform something he wrote. Rose was going to flip.   

Finally, while Penny explained that she herself couldn’t represent him as repping Jagged alone was a full-time job, she had also sent him a list of agents she knew and trusted and promised to get him a meeting when he was ready.

So when Penny sent him a release form for his unscheduled appearance and begged him to have his mother sign it before her legal team paraded her corpse down the Champs Elysee for letting Jagged pull a minor onstage without parental consent, he gladly went to bat with Anarka, who despised paperwork in general and legal documents in particular, and pestered her until it got done. His mom would probably be extra contrary for at least a week, but that was fine, he could handle it. At this point Luka was so grateful that he was pretty sure he’d donate a kidney for Penny if she needed it.

Now, she told him, it was just up to him to keep the ball rolling until he was musically and emotionally ready to try for the big time—to keep his name out there and build his fanbase. 

Fanbase.  Like he was ever going to be emotionally ready for that.  

Luka coped with his sudden crushing case of imposter syndrome by focusing on the band. He saw no reason why keeping the ball of his popularity rolling, as Penny put it, couldn’t include bringing the rest of Kitty Section along for the ride. After all, none of this would be happening if Marinette hadn’t done the same for him. He’d asked Penny to include Kitty Section’s Instagram in her press release, though he’d cringed at her insistence on the wording “Kitty Section featuring Luka Couffaine,” as if he was any more important than any other band member, and their number of followers had tripled overnight. Rose had posted pictures and a short clip of him on stage with Jagged, and she’d been calling every club and venue she could find to pitch Kitty Section.

It was a beautiful madness that was at the same time overwhelming and so far removed from his daily life that it didn’t quite seem real, and finally he decided to give himself a break from trying to figure it all out, and he took his guitar out on the deck.

Luka was staring dreamily into the sunset, singing softly along with his guitar, when suddenly his view was blocked by a curtain of black and purple hair with lace sleeves. 

“Okay,” grumbled a familiar voice from within the curtain. “What the hell happened when you walked Marinette home?”

Luka sighed as Juleka came to plop herself down in the other chair.

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“You haven’t sung in ages.”

He eyed her suspiciously. She was speaking in full sentences so something was up. “You didn’t want me too.”

“Not while you sounded like a cat in heat, but that’s been over for a while. Why now?”

Luka shrugged. “Why not?”

“Luka.”

He said nothing.

“Do you realize that ever since the concert you sound like you’re putting together the soundtrack for a heavy metal romcom?”

“I do not,” he grumbled. Yeah, smooth. God, nobody could get under your skin like a sibling. Especially his. 

Juleka was silent for a minute. “She has a crush on Adrien Agreste.”

Luka’s jaw tightened and he turned his pick in his fingers, pressing into the hard edges. 

“Like a super-mega-nearly-stalker crush, Luka.”

He said nothing.

“You know that stuttering, word-scrambling thing she does that you think is so cute? She’s a million times worse with him. It’s a small miracle that he hasn’t decided she’s a complete psycho.”

Luka sighed. “You’re telling me this why? And why now?”

Her face screwed up the way it used to when she was five and he wouldn’t let her play with him. “Because you’re my stupid brother and you’re getting in over your head, and I hate you and I’m scared you’re going to keep me awake with your sobbing when she breaks your heart.”

Luka had to smile at that. “I love you too, Juleka,” he said, with more sincerity than he’d intended. “And I already knew she had a thing for Adrien.”

“Has  a thing, Luka. A big thing. Eiffel Tower big. The Great Wall of China, visible from space big.”  

Luka plucked at a string, pretending to tune it. “Does he have a thing for her?”

“Luka.”  

Luka groaned and rolled his eyes. “Look, I know the score. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. I’m just...we had a nice moment, okay? We don’t have to be destined soulmates for me to enjoy her company. Now get lost so I can watch the sunset without your mopey goth doom and gloom.”

Juleka sighed gustily. “I’m going to have to smother you with my pillow, aren’t I?”

“Tell me about Lila,” Luka said abruptly, and Juleka tilted her head. 

“Why do you want to know about Lila?”

“I don’t know, I just kind of got a weird vibe that night while you guys were talking about her.”

“Marinette doesn’t like her.”

“Why?” 

Juleka rolled her eyes. “Because Lila is pretty and confident and wealthy and well-connected, and Marinette’s insecure and jealous. She thinks Lila wants Adrien and it makes her act crazy.”

Juleka’s words were so discordant with Luka’s reality that he almost felt nauseous. “That doesn’t sound like Marinette at all,” he said cautiously.

“I told you, Marinette loses her mind when Adrien’s involved.”

“Yeah...so much so that she agreed to help him ask out another girl.”

“She probably did that so she could spy on his date. She’s as threatened by that Kagami girl as she is by Lila, only nobody actually likes Kagami, so she’s a tiny bit less crazy about it.”

“I was there, Juleka,” Luka reminded her sharply. “Nothing like that happened.”

Juleka leaned her chin in her hand and looked at him. “You’re biased, Luka.”

“Biased, not blind, and Marinette’s not exactly hard to read.” Luka put his guitar aside and turned in the chair to face her. “Juleka, you know me. I’m not wrong about this. I was there. She told me when she asked me to go that we were going to support Adrien, and that’s what she did. I watched her smile at him and encourage him when he was nervous. I gave him advice myself right in front of her. And yeah, she looked at him like a sad puppy whenever he couldn’t see, but she didn’t even give him a hint at how upset she was.” He sat back, studying his sister. “I thought Marinette was your friend.”

Juleka started. “She is.”

“Are you even listening to the things you’re saying about her? Does anything you’ve said actually make sense with what you know about Marinette? Look, I believe you when you say she’s crazy about Adrien, that makes sense, and I can believe she’d come up with some crazy convoluted things to get his attention, but do you really think she’s that jealous and petty? And if she were, that I’d be so crazy in love that I couldn’t tell?”

Juleka chewed her lip. 

“Marinette’s done a lot for us...and for you, Jules.”

Juleka lowered her eyes. Luka just shook his head and reclined back on his chair, picking up his guitar. “Look, I think I’m done talking about this, forget I asked. Tomorrow’s the first day back at school since the concert and to be honest I’m kind of freaked out about how things will go, so…” He made a little shooing motion with his hand. “Can I just get some space please?”

Juleka didn’t move or speak for a moment. Then she said, “Are you going to be up here singing more sappy barely-rock love songs?”

“Vocal practice was on Penny’s list. I’m more marketable if I can perform my own vocals.” 

“Right,” Juleka drawled. “Penny’s list.”

Something about her tone made him put down the guitar again to look her in the eye. “Juleka, anywhere I go, you go too, for as long as you’re up for the ride. I promise.” 

She held his gaze for a moment, and then stood up, and started to walk off. “Whatever. Enjoy your quest for the perfect rock ballad to serenade Marinette. Just don’t call me to bail you out of jail when Officer Roger arrests you for public disturbance.”

“It’s not for Marinette.”

“Sure.” She waved over her shoulder. “Try not to be a total cliché or I’ll disown you.”

Luka just smiled and shook his head as he picked up his guitar.

***

The first day back in class after the crazy fever dream of the concert night was as surreal as he expected it to be. Some of his schoolmates were at the concert, enough to whisper and point and spread the news around the school. The weight of his guitar on his back was steadying, but it marked him. There were a lot of awkward conversations with people he barely knew. 

The attention he got from girls who were suddenly giggly and handsy was what really threw him, until his best friend took pity and passed Luka his phone, open to a news site that had a photo of Luka playing at the concert. Luka stared at the photo and covered his mouth to keep from...something. He wasn’t sure if he would laugh or swear. 

It was clearly a professional photo, not like the slightly hazy ones that Rose had taken from the pit. They’d caught him mid-riff, his arms flexed as he played, his hair flying about his face, his eyes focused and a smirk on his lips. He understood now why girls kept grabbing onto his arm or cuddling up and slipping their hands under his jacket. The picture made him look hot, and there was a lot of muscle on display in that custom-fitted MDC Original shirt that was totally hidden in his usual layered look.

Luka passed the phone back and put his head down on his desk while Evan tried to smother his laughter.

He wondered if Marinette had seen the picture. Maybe he should see if Penny could send her a copy. For her portfolio. 

***

A week after the concert Rose texted that she had big news and asked if he could meet the rest of the band at the collège after class.  

Rose and Juleka were the first band members out, walking with a red-headed girl Luka didn’t recognize. He’d expected Rose to be bouncing, bubbly, excited after the tone of her messages, but instead Rose looked a little uncomfortable, and Juleka...Luka’s eyebrows rose. Juleka had her murder face on. 

“That’s so great, I knew Gustav would come through,” the redhead giggled to Rose. “He and I are such good friends ever since I grabbed that fire extinguisher and saved his club from burning down. I knew I could convince him to book Kitty Section!”

“Um, that’s really sweet of you, Lila,” Rose was saying. “When I called, you know, he said that he saw Jagged Stone’s press release and—“

“Oh, yes, I sent that to him as soon as I got it!”

“You...got it?”

“Of course, I get all of his press releases. You know we’re like this.” She held up her crossed fingers. “And honestly, I felt bad for you guys! I’m sure Marinette meant well but singling out one person to meet Jagged, it just seemed so unfair! You all deserved that chance, but maybe she just didn’t know him as well as she said—I mean, as well as she thought she did! I wish I’d been there like I planned, I could’ve done something. It’s too bad that I had to cancel to go help Prince Ali with that emergency at the children’s hospital.” She dropped her voice so that she was only barely audible to Luka. “Honestly I’m surprised Marinette would use her connections like that just to impress a boy, I would never dare, but I guess we all know how far Marinette will go when she has a crush!”  

Juleka’s eyes lifted from the ground and met Luka’s. 

He realized he had his murder face on too. 

The two siblings smirked at each other and then both looked at their feet. Luka breathed, reminded himself of little black butterflies, and when he looked back up his face felt more normal.

“W-well, I understand why you might think that, but you haven’t heard Luka play, he really was the best choice and—“ Rose began, then Juleka caught Rose’s chin and turned her face toward Luka. Rose brightened. “Oh, there he is!”

“Oh!” Lila slipped ahead of them to plant herself in front of Luka, hands wrapped around the strap of her bag as she looked up at him from under her bangs. “You must be Luka, I’ve heard so much about you,” Lila gushed, batting her eyes at him. “Juleka talks about you all the time.” Juleka gave her a sidelong look, which made Luka want to laugh. Juleka hardly talked about anything, and never talked about Luka if she could help it. “Rose and Juleka and I were just talking about this gig I booked for Kitty Section at L’Accord d’Or!”

Luka smiled over Lila’s head at Rose. “That’s great Rose, I know you’ve been trying to get us in there for months.”

“Yeah,” Juleka said flatly. “Who knew that all that time all Lila had to do was make a phone call.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rose fluttered, not seeming to know where to look. “What’s important is that we got the gig now!” Her face brightened with genuine excitement. “And it’s not at the open mic, we’re the headline act. And it pays!” She bounced on her toes, hands clasped together. 

“That’s great news, Rose. I know you’ve worked really hard to make it happen.” Luka said, giving the girl’s shoulder a little squeeze. No wonder Juleka was pissed, if Lila was trying to take the credit. 

When he looked back at Lila, Luka could practically see the calculations appearing over her head as she looked him up and down. He gave her a bland look back that was part disinterest and part warning. He knew that look, he’d seen it over and over in eyes the same blue as his own. It wasn’t even any special kind of insight that told him this girl was selfish and self-centered, just cold, hard experience. 

Maybe he’d done too well at shielding Juleka if she couldn’t see it too. Luka turned his attention back to Rose.

“I thought we should get together and talk about it right away,” Rose was saying, “since we only have a couple of weeks to get ready. He wanted to do the gig soon while people are still talking about Luka. And I thought maybe Marinette could help us make up some T-shirts and things we could sell.”

“You’re so forgiving, Rose,” Lila said with admiration. “Even after Marinette ditched you guys to be with Luka.”

“Marinette’s done a lot for all of us,” Luka said mildly. “But Rose, If we’re getting paid, we need to make sure Marinette is too. She’s already done all of our costumes and the backdrop.”

“Wow,” Lila cooed, curling her hand on Luka’s arm with that slip-squeeze move girls had been pulling on him all week. “She did all of that? She must be so into you.” 

Luka didn’t even hear her, gaze suddenly focused on the door. “Here she comes now.” He tried to keep his expression neutral, but he knew he hadn’t entirely succeeded. It was kind of impossible, given the rush that flooded his system. He hadn’t seen her since he had kissed her in the hall at the bakery. He pulled his arm away from Lila absently, plucking her hand off when she didn’t let go, and reached for the guitar pick in his pocket, pressing the edges into his fingers. He’d promised her when they kissed that it wouldn’t change anything and he was going to keep that promise if it killed him. Marinette caught sight of them, blushed, waved, and tripped on the steps. 

Luka moved without thinking, even knowing he was too far away to help. Suddenly there was a flash of white and blond in front of them and Adrien was lowering a red-faced and stammering Marinette carefully to the pavement.

“Adrien,” Lila squealed, bouncing over to them. “Oh, it’s so good that you were there, that was a really bad fall, Marinette. I know you must be excited to see Luka but you should be more careful.”

Marinette’s face turned even redder as she got to her feet. Lila pushed in between them, and linked her arms through both Marinette’s and Adrien’s, pulling them with her back over to Rose, Juleka, and Luka. “I was just telling Luka about the gig I booked for Kitty Section!”

Juleka growled at Luka’s side and he put his hand on her shoulder. He got an elbow in the ribs for his trouble, but then she folded her arms and huffed out a sigh. 

“Hey Luka, good to see you!” Adrien waved, trying to discreetly pull his other arm free of Lila’s. Marinette was less delicate, shoving the girl’s hand away with a disgusted expression. Undeterred, Lila simply wrapped both hands around Adrien’s arm as he continued. “I saw the clip of you on stage with Jagged, it was awesome! You looked like you were born for it.”

Luka ran his fingers through his hair. “Thanks, I’m just glad he picked that song since I’ve played it so many times at home. I thought I was going to pass out just meeting him, but he was really cool, and it was really funny watching him tease Marinette.” She blushed slightly when he smiled at her, and his heart did a little flip. 

“Really?” Adrien chuckled. “I know he’s a fan of her work. She signed my copy of his last album cover.” He grinned and nudged Marinette with his elbow.

“Yeah, it’s adorable actually, he treats her like she’s his favorite niece or something.” Luka kept his attention on Adrien but watched Lila out of the corner of his eye. “And he brags about her like a proud grandpa.”

“Wow,” Lila said, opening her eyes wide. “Marinette must really have wanted to impress you to use her connections like that. That’s so brave, Marinette! I mean, I would never have dared to bother Jagged Stone just to impress a boy. Oh, isn’t it sooo cute that Marinette likes Luka so much, Adrien! They make such a cute couple!”  

Marinette flushed from her hairline to her collar. “We’re not a couple! It wasn’t like that! I only know Jagged because I was in the right place at the right time and he happened to like my work. It was crazy lucky and Luka’s so talented, I just thought he should have the same chance that I had. And he did great and now he’s opening doors for Kitty Section. I think it’s awesome that we can all help each other succeed in our dreams. After all, what good are all these ‘amazing connections’ if you can’t use them to help your friends?”

Something ugly flashed across Lila’s face but Adrien spoke up before she could bite back. “You’re right, Marinette,” Adrien agreed brightly. “It might have been luck that you met Jagged but you’ve definitely made the most of it, and paying it forward to help Luka and Kitty Section is really cool.”

“Y-you think so?” Marinette nearly whispered, still red in the face. 

“Yeah, it makes me think I should be more active thinking of ways I could do the same,” Adrien rubbed his neck. “I never really thought about it before, but there’s got to be more I could be doing.”

“Oh, Adrien, it’s so like you to think that way,” Lila purred. “Maybe we could have coffee sometime and we could talk about it? You know I’m involved in so many charity projects, I have tons of experience at that kind of thing.”

Marinette looked like she might explode. Adrien laughed uneasily and finally managed to get his arm away from Lila. He started backing away from the group, glancing back towards the silver car waiting for him. “Some other time, maybe, I have uh, somewhere to be right now. Bye guys, and congrats again on the gig!”

“Bye Adrien,” Lila waved cheerfully, and then turned to Marinette. Luka felt a physical pain at the way Marinette tensed up. “Oh, Marinette, it’s so good to see you’ve finally moved on from your hopeless crush on Adrien. I hope that means we can be friends now since there’s no more need for you to be jealous.”

Marinette folded her arms and gave Lila a look that Luka had last seen aimed at Bob Roth. “I think we both know that’s not going to happen and why.”

“Oh, Marinette, it’s really not fair for you to lead Luka on if you’re still hung up over Adrien,” Lila returned, sugary sweet, and Marinette went from red to white, and Luka felt his own face heat. “Or,” Lila lowered her voice to a perfectly audible stage whisper. “Don’t tell me that you went to all that trouble for him and he still turned you down. You poor thing, that’s so…” she paused, as if looking for the word, and then smirked. “Pathetic.” 

Lila whipped around as Luka began to laugh. “You can’t be serious,” he managed to get out between chortles. Beside him, Juleka was smirking. “You’re not taking anyone in with that one.” 

“Yeah,” Juleka drawled. “He’s been stupid over Marinette since they met.” Rose giggled, though she still looked uncomfortable.

“All right guys, are we having this meeting or what?” Luka stepped around Lila and put his arm around Marinette’s shoulders to guide her away. “Anybody know if Ivan is coming?”

“Oh, he asked me to tell you he had to stay and talk to Miss Bustier for a little bit,” Marinette said. “He’ll be along in a few minutes. Um, if you want, we could have the meeting at my place? It’s not big but at least we wouldn’t be standing in the sun. Plus you know Maman and Papa will feed us.”

Rose and Juleka both perked up. “Sounds like a plan,” Luka grinned. “Lead the way.” 

“Don’t worry, Marinette,” he heard Lila purr behind them. “I’ll take good care of Adrien now that you’ve moved on. You couldn’t have gotten in at Gabriel even with Adrien’s help, anyway.”  

“Ugh, she makes me nauseous,” Luka said softly to Marinette as they approached the crosswalk. “I see what you meant, now.”

“Oh my God, Luka, I’m so sorry, that must have been so embarrassing for you,” Marinette whimpered. 

“Not really. It was the truth, I’m crazy about you and I’m not ashamed of it.” Luka tightened his arm around her, and then reluctantly let her go, pretending not to see her radiant blush. “She wouldn’t be so threatened by you if you weren’t so amazing. People like that, you almost have to feel sorry for. How lame must her life be to make her so bitter?”

Marinette was silent for a moment, her blush fading as her expression fell. “So you think I should just let it go?”

“What? No!” Luka said, surprised. “Feeling sorry for her doesn’t mean putting up with her crap. Whatever’s going on in her life, she has a choice about how she treats other people. And I can tell you from experience, people like her will take everything they can get and then burn down the rest just out of spite.”

“Adrien knows how she is,” Marinette said quietly. “But he didn’t want me to say anything. He said making a bad guy suffer has never turned them into a good guy.”

Luka snorted softly. “All that is required for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing.”

Marinette’s head whipped around to look up at him. He met her eyes got a moment and then focused on the sidewalk ahead of him.

“Look, it’s to Adrien’s credit that he is the way he is. In a way he’s proof of what I was saying. He has a crappy home life and he still chooses to be optimistic and compassionate, and maybe that means he has a weak spot for people like Lila and Chloé. Maybe if he admitted to himself that some people are beyond redemption, then he has to admit that there’s no hope for his own father. That his dad will always be cold and calculating and manipulative and Adrien will never be good enough for him.” Luka paused and took a deep breath. “It’s a hard thing to admit to yourself. It’s even harder to admit that the reason those people won’t change, is because they don’t care enough to try.” He glanced back at Rose and Juleka, glad to see they were trailing far enough behind that they wouldn’t overhear. “I get it, you know? He still has hope. I just…” He lowered his voice without really meaning to and she swayed a little closer to hear. “I remember how it felt when there wasn’t any hope left, just all of us exhausted and used up and tossed away, and all I can think about is how much time we wasted believing the lie that if we just tried hard enough we could make him want to stay. So no, I can’t agree with Adrien. Giving in to selfishness never turned it into generosity either.” 

Marinette stopped walking and put her arms around Luka’s middle, squeezing tight. He patted her arm, and then pulled away, a little uncomfortable with having said so much. “Anyway, you do what you think is right, Marinette. Protect yourself and trust your instincts. You might not always get it right the first time, but I know you will in the end.”

“Thanks, Luka. I think I needed to hear that.”

They waited in silence at the crosswalk for a moment for the others to catch up. Luka chuckled suddenly. “You know, she made a mistake today.”

“What?” Marinette blinked at him. 

“Lila screwed up. She pissed off Juleka.” Luka grinned. “Rose has been spinning her wheels for months trying to get us into that club, and Lila just up and claims it was all because of her that Rose finally got through. I’m not sure whether Juleka believes Lila and is mad that she didn’t do anything sooner, or if she knows Lila didn’t do anything and is mad at her for lying, but either way, she’s mad that Rose is unhappy. So that’s one less person on Lila’s side anyway. That’s how I know you’ll come out on top no matter what you decide to do.” He didn’t even try to hide the affection in his face when he looked at her. “You can call it karma or whatever, but I’m sure you’ll always have people on your side. Maybe there will always be a Lila out there, taking the credit and name-dropping and looking out for number one. But you...you’re always lifting up the people around you. You don’t let pursuing your own dreams stop you from caring about everyone else’s.” 

As he said the words, the world seemed to stop for a heartbeat, and suddenly he knew what he wanted to sing for her.  Her pink cheeks grew a little pinker as he smiled a slow, secret smile, but before she could ask any questions, Rose and Juleka joined them and they all crossed the street. “You’ll come to the gig, right?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual. “We wouldn’t even be playing a place this big if it weren’t for you.”

Marinette sighed. “I wish you’d stop saying that. You’re the one who impressed Jagged. You’re the one who played in front of all those people.”

“You’re the one who gave me that chance. But I’m sorry, I’ll try not to bring it up anymore if it makes you uncomfortable. Anyway, will you come? I’d really like you to be there.” 

Marinette waved her phone. “Already on my calendar. Actually I was thinking I might try to get there when you guys do so I can help you get ready, if that’s okay? I want to make sure your costumes are perfect for this!”

Luka smiled. “Better make sure your website is ready for all the traffic you’re going to get. Rose said people are already asking about T-shirt’s and things.”

“I’m not surprised, you did make it look good.” Marinette slapped her hand over her mouth and Luka looked away and coughed to hide his laughter. 

***

Kitty Section worked harder than they ever had for the next couple of weeks. It was a scramble to finish the new song Luka and Rose had been working on, and then they had to figure out what else they were going to play and practice that. (Penny said covers would be a good way to pad their setlist, Luka had informed the group.) Fortunately all of the band members were extremely motivated, so once they got over the hurdle of agreeing on which songs to play (which turned out to be a very high hurdle indeed), they worked relentlessly to get them down, meeting every chance they got to practice.

Marinette had to miss a lot of those rehearsals, but that was fine--that was actually good as far as Luka was concerned, since he had to get the band on board with his plan and then teach them the music he had reworked to suit Kitty Section's metal sound. 

He tried to frame it as platonically as he could, but he still spent almost as much time ignoring teasing comments (and Rose’s overly romanticized fantasy world where he and Marinette had a wedding officiated by Jagged Stone before honeymooning during Luka’s first international tour) as he did practicing. As he lived with Juleka, he was accustomed to blocking out things he didn’t want to listen to, so he let most of it roll off his back. 

Luka was surprised when Ivan stopped after practice one day to lean against the rail next to him.

“Hey,” Ivan said, rubbing his hand over his hair. “You um...okay? We were kinda giving you a really hard time today.”

“Yeah, you were.” Luka shrugged. “But it’s okay. I know I’m an idiot.”

“You’re really in love with Marinette?”

Luka sighed. “Head over heels, man.”

“Wow,” Ivan mumbled, and then was silent for a moment. “So you think the song’ll work?”

“Nope.” 

Ivan blinked. “Really? But…”

“Rose’s romantic fever dreams aside, I’m not doing this to try to win Marinette over. I know she loves somebody else and—well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish for something different, but that’s her choice to make, you know? I just…” He paused, automatically beginning to play his feelings as he tried to find words. 

“I owe Marinette a lot,” Ivan said after a moment. “She was the one who really encouraged me to confess to Mylène. I might never have gotten up the guts of it weren’t for her.”

Luka grinned, looking up at him. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I was the first akuma victim, you know. Yay me.”

Luka huffed. “I feel you on that one.”

“I was so in love with Mylène but every time I tried to get close to her, I scared her. I was feeling super down about it. Marinette gave me a pep talk. I mean, things still kinda got worse before they got better, but it turned out all right.”

Luka shook his head, smiling to himself. “She’s something else. You know I was impressed with her before we even met. You wouldn’t believe how much money I’ve spent on ice cream and nail polish every class photo day for years. I was all set for Juleka to come home crying yet again, and instead she comes home with a smile on her face. Even having been akumatized that same day, she was so happy. I asked her what happened and she just smiled and said, ‘Marinette.’” 

“She’s always helping out, huh?” Ivan rubbed his hand over his head again. 

Luka slid his hand over the fretboard thoughtfully. “I just...want her to know how special she is, you know? Like I said, it’s not about winning her over, just...letting her know.”

“Yeah, I think I get it.” Ivan punched him lightly in arm and Luka tried not to wince. “Still...good luck, man. You and Marinette, you both deserve good things.”

“Thanks, Ivan.”

Even though Marinette couldn’t always be at practice, she was still working for them. She presented them with three new t-shirt designs, all of them simpler than the ones she’d originally made for the band so they could be easily sourced out to a printing company. She’d teamed up with Marc and Nath (names Luka only vaguely recognized) and they’d created posters and fliers featuring comic-book style drawings of the band playing on the back of a winged cat unicorn. Luka had to admit, once he stopped laughing, that they were pretty awesome. The band plastered them all over their schools, in as many local coffee shops and music stores as they could get to, and Luka had to smile when he passed one proudly displayed in the bakery window. 

And somehow, the image, including the gig date and time, got passed to Jagged Stone, who tweeted it out to his billions of followers. “I thought we were going to have to give Nath oxygen when we told him,” Marinette giggled. 

By the time the gig night rolled around, it was no shock to anyone that the club was packed.

***

“Are you nervous?” Marinette asked as she helped Luka lift the breastplate into place and began to fasten the ties. 

“If you’d asked me that yesterday, I would’ve said yes, totally, but tonight? Honestly, I’m stoked,” Luka told her, tilting his mask in his hands to admire the play of the glitter under the club lights. “This place is amazing, the set list is sick, the crowd energy is amazing, and your costumes look unreal under these lights. We’ve worked really hard and I feel like we’re ready for this. I can’t wait to get out there.”

Marinette shook her head. “You guys are amazing, if it were me I’d pass out. Is this okay, can you move?”

Luka moved his arms experimentally. “Good as gold. You’re amazing in plenty of other ways, Marinette.” 

He wasn’t even sure she heard him. She bounced and squealed. “You look so great, you’re right, this is gonna be awesome! You’re gonna knock ‘em dead!”

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He blinked at her but Marinette just flashed him a shy smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and turned away to help Rose. 

He took a few minutes to himself to just close his eyes and breathe, and when he opened his eyes again the rest of the band was ready, and Marinette was passing him on her way to the door. “Hey,” he caught her shoulder. “Can you try to get a spot up front? I want to be able to see you.”

Marinette smiled. “I’ll be there. Adrien’s already out there and he has his bodyguard holding space for me and Nino and Alya.”

“Great,” he said, letting his hand fall to catch hers and squeeze it. “Hey guys, all in real quick before Marinette leaves?”

The band crowded together to slap a high five. “Kitty Section!” They yelled together. Marinette and Mylène went to find their places. 

Luka slipped his mask over his face. “All right guys, let’s do this.”

The crowd roared as the band walked on stage. Luka took a deep breath as he slipped his guitar over his head.  Remember the plan.  He played a short riff to get the crowd’s attention as the others took their places. He stepped up next to Rose at the center mic as she welcomed the crowd, and then handed off the microphone to him. There was a cheer as he took off his mask and waved to the crowd.   

“Thanks for coming out to hear us tonight,” he began. “Let me introduce the members of Kitty Section, first on lead vocals, Rose Lavillant!” Beside him Rose lifted her mask, waved, and held up a victory sign. “Rose is also writes our lyrics, runs our Instagram, and books our shows, she’s amazing and her hard work and persistence got us here tonight.” Eat that, Lila. “Next, if you didn’t know, I have the coolest kid sister in Paris and she’s here on bass, Juleka Couffaine.”  Juleka left her mask in place and her wave looked more like clawing the air. “And last, he plays a killer set of drums but he’s also one of the greatest friends any of us could ask for—especially if you have furniture to move—ladies and gentlemen, Ivan Bruel.” Ivan stood up behind his drum set and punched his arms in the air as the crowd cheered.  “Alright, let’s get this place rocking, I’m Luka Couffaine and we are,” they all bellowed together, “Kitty Section!”  

Ivan counted them off as Luka slipped his mask back on and relinquished the mic to Rose, her own mask back in place as she belted, “Oh I love unicorns…”

The energy in the crowd was amazing and it definitely fired up the band. Luka didn’t think they’d ever played better. They went through the first half of their set flawlessly and Luka felt incredible. 

Then it was time, and for the first time that evening the chill of nerves wound down Luka’s spine. 

“Thank you!” Rose hollered into the mic. “And now we have something special for you tonight, so ladies and gentlemen, kittens and unicorns, give it up for Kitty Section’s own Luka Couffaine!”

The audience erupted as Luka took off his mask, handing it to Rose as he took his place at the mic. 

“Wow, thank you,” he said, grinning out at them and hoping his nerves didn’t show as he raised the mic stand to a more comfortable height. “Really, thank you, I’m so humbled and grateful to have all your support.” Chants of Luka, Luka broke out and he laughed. “Wow, seriously, you guys. Thank you so much.” He cleared his throat. “So this next song is maybe an odd choice for a rock band, but I hope you’ll like what we’ve done with it. I’ve been thinking a lot about hopes and dreams lately. I think you can probably guess why,” he grinned as laughter rippled across the audience. “It’s been a pretty surreal experience. And it’s got me thinking a lot about dreams and life and just...potential, you know? I think about how lucky I am to have gotten the opportunities I’ve had. But, at the same time it feels disrespectful to call it luck, because it was intentional. It was a very special person taking the opportunities she’s been given and passing them on. If you ask her, she’ll tell you she didn’t do very much, but that’s not even remotely true. For one thing, she designed our awesome stage gear,” he tapped the sparkling kittycorn on his breastplate. “And if you could have been there in the band meetings and listened to what the poor girl had to put up with while we were tossing ideas around, you’d be even more impressed.” There was another ripple of laughter, and Luka chuckled, turning his pick in his fingers. “You know, some people think you have to be ruthless to follow your dreams, that you’ll never get anywhere without stepping on the people around you.” His eyes locked on Marinette, who was gaping at him, mouth open and one hand locked on Alya’s arm. “But then there are some people who aren’t afraid to share their dreams and who are excited to share yours, and that’s what Marinette has been for us. I don’t have time to tell you half of the things she’s done for Kitty Section and also for me personally, or to tell you how she’s encouraged and inspired a lot of people in this room, and if I tried she’d probably pass out.” He grinned and winked at her. “So instead I’m just gonna say, this one’s for you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the girl with a million dreams, and a heart big enough to hold all of ours.” There were scattered cheers from Marinette’s friends, but for the most part the room seemed to hold its collective breath.  

Luka closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself. When he felt ready, he began to play what he’d been working on for weeks. He took a deep breath, and stepped up to the mic, eyes still half-closed as he began to sing, his voice low and mellow despite the metal sound of his guitar beneath. “I close my eyes and I can see a world that’s waiting up for me, that I call my own…Through the dark, through the door, through where no one’s been before, but it feels like home…”

Luka opened his eyes, and smiled down at Marinette, who now had both hands over her mouth. “They can say, they can say it all sounds crazy, they can say they can say I’ve lost my mind...I don’t care, I don’t care if they call me crazy...we can live in a world that we design…”

Luka tore his eyes away from her, scanning across the crowd, feeling Ivan’s rhythm through his feet and Juleka’s bass thrumming behind him and Rose’s voice coming in to support his. “Cause every night I lie in bed, the brightest colors fill my head, a million dreams are keeping me awake…I think of what the world could be, the vision of the one I see, a million dreams is all it’s gonna take...a million dreams for the world we’re gonna make.” He was starting to see faces in the crowd, now, friends that had come out to support them, faces with dreams for their own. He wanted every one of them to have the same gift Marinette had given him. He sang on, and his already racing heart tripped and stuttered, and he closed his eyes again to keep back the tears trying to spring up as he poured his heart into his hands and voice. 

“However big, however small, let me be part of it all...share your dreams with me...we may be right, we may be wrong, but I wanna bring you along, to the world I see, to the world we close our eyes to see, we close our eyes to see…”

He dropped his hands from the guitar and held the microphone instead.

“Every night I lie in bed, the brightest colors fill my head, a million dreams are keeping me awake.” He barely remembered to pick up his guitar in time to catch the crescendo. “I think of what the world could be, a vision of the one I see, a million dreams is all it’s gonna take, a million dreams for the world we’re gonna make…”

His voice caught on the last line. “For the world we’re gonna make.”

There was a beat of total silence, and the crowd exploded.  Luka could only raise a hand to acknowledge them as he stepped back, and accepted his mask back from Rose, who hugged him impulsively before coming back to her place at the microphone. He settled the mask back over his face, breathing hard, and tried to remember what they were supposed to play next. It was several minutes before he felt composed enough to look at Marinette.

Her face was in her hands, but she looked up just as he looked down and caught his eyes, and though her face was tear-streaked, the smile she gave him was blinding.