#THAT HE SPINS LIKE A FREAKING BALLERINA AT EVERY OPPORTUNITY

[skyriderwednesday]

Imo, the soundtrack really doesn't do Hydra justice, but like. In the opposite of doing him dirty, because by leaving out 90% of his context and giving him a (weirdly sinister sounding) extended version of his song, it makes him seem way too cool and mysterious than what he really is. Which is an overenthusiastic dork who thinks hydrogen power is really cool, you guys.

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Hello it's been a while since I've written something. I've came up with an idea that could be written into a series involving this particular person if people like it.

Marcus X ballerina reader🦇💃

A dance in the rain🌧️

“Spin,

Thrust,

Lunge,

Tighten,

Straighten,

Twist,

Bend into your final stance”

I was the type of person to not normally focus on such words, it was just white noise to me. I’ve been a Ballerina for God knows how long now that it seems rather bland to me. My parents expected everything from me, to be the greatest succession, I don’t care of course, all of this was just normal. Being a performer you usually three of each reaction. Shock, horror, or amazement the way my body could bend it seemed impossible but as a child, I was trained this way. Everything seemed melancholy to me, nothing inspired me to feel Joy.

“Bend your back” the teacher arched me; I felt no pain only her hands touching my abdomen. “Amazing y/n, truly once again you’ve seized to amaze me” she applauded. I was from Italy and the dancing conditions here can be harsh. I stood up with a perfect balance as the teacher gave us a five-minute break. I took the opportunity to head outside the doors of my dance studio, it was raining, and I stood there, staring into the gloomy sky.

Something washed over me, I got into position and began with my arm stretching out. The rain dripped against my skin; I’ve always connected with the rain. The rain is often misunderstood, people interoperate the rain as gloomy and sad, I however find it relaxing and hypnotizing to watch.

My leg stretched out into a lunge as I protrude into a jump, my hands grasped my shoulders as I danced with emotion. I spun while holding my arms out in a proper position. I didn’t notice the man in the shadows watching my every movement.

The water within the cobblestone rippled in the effects of my jumps. I closed my eyes and smiled day dreaming of someone’s voice whispering out “y/n, y/n, y/n”.

I kept spinning and twirling holding my arms out as the man watched with curiosity and amazement. No one could match the same performance as I did in the rain. I stopped to finally end the sombre with a jump and an arch in my back. I could feel something, something I’ve never even felt with any of my performances “pride”.

“The swan danced with pride once again and felt a sense of happiness as her moves were fulfilling”

A man from behind me clapped slowly “Bravo my dear” he spoke with no emotion, it freaked me out. I jumped at the person’s reaction “What are you doing” I replied with shock. “Your movements were quite extraordinary; I’ve never witnessed a performance like yours” he whispered. What was odd was that even if he spoke words of expression his features and voice expressed nothing. “Um thank you, I should head back” I replied worriedly. “Of course, your frightened they always are” The older man walked out with a saddened emotion.

“Do you intend to gawk at me further” I didn’t need an audience even, so this was a one-time thing. “You seem driven from happiness; I have experienced the same many years ago and still to this very day I can no longer express it” The man walked towards the tree “How so?”.

I wanted to make sure this man had no intention to harm me, in fact his appearance was rather odd. He wore robes and his eyes were crimson, I thought it was one of those weirdos that celebrate that odd holiday. Often many of the people gather in that giant castle, I wouldn’t even dare set foot in there. “Are you going to that festival, you know the one everyone raves on about” I wiped the rain out of my hair. “Hm, it seems rather farfetched, to celebrate myself” He didn’t even blink “I don’t believe you know who I am”.

“No, I don’t” I couldn’t even remember what holiday it was today, but my parents would often stay inside their house in fear. “Isn’t it St Marcus’s day” I questioned “Indeed” he agreed and in which case my eyes grew wider “oh sweet god then that means”. My parents warned me especially of the dark ones that want to rule over the world “a-are you going to kill me my king”. I was scared perhaps he was going to slaughter me for not even celebrating. “Not today” He stood still and even his skin illuminated against the light. It was impossible but his hands were so pale they sparkled like diamonds.

“In all of my centuries of living your dance seemed to have sparked something within me, fascination” He approached me. “I never ask many humans, but do you care to waltz with me it’s been 200 years since I’ve done anything like this”. He couldn’t love nor even feel anything after his beloved died, he was stuck in limbo not wanting to seek out life nor death. He wanted to be free again, but his brothers were against the idea.

“Of course,” I smiled and grabbed the mans cold hand, he began to hold me close. It felt like a pitiful, romantic, Shakespeare scene. The ballerina and a king waltzing on the cobblestone street, “Thank you for not killing me” I smiled. I couldn’t believe I was smiling after all this time somehow this encounter made me feel again.

“Is it odd that perhaps in this instance I feel happiness with only you” I questioned “no it’s a nice change to feel something” he smiled. “I haven’t held something this kind ever since-“ his smile faded and the man stopped. “I must be off, enjoy the rain y/n” I quickly grabbed his arm “please come back, I wish to see you again” He stared directly into my eyes and something within him twitched. He grabbed my hand “I promise that we will have many dances in the future y/n”.

He glided across the street to see my body covered in the rain, he smiled silently.

Y/n stood their confused and yet happy to what she had encountered.

“Today I just encountered one of the kings, I had no idea why nor how, but I felt emotion, pride, love and happiness all in one go. I didn’t get his name but by based on the holiday my mind could only mutter one word”

“Marcus”

Anyways that's all I have for now:

Ta Ta 💫

[pessimisticlatte]

Pas de Deux

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug Pairing: Marinette Dupain-Cheng|Ladybug/Adrien Agreste Word Count: 2,024 AU: Dancer

Notes: I’m not a dancer so sorry if the terminology is wrong and if the flow of the story isn’t great I’m also sorry because I was inspired to write + post this while half asleep with a very sleepy puppy on me who just wanted to go to bed

She had debuted at 16, the youngest prima ballerina the Paris Opera Ballet ever had. Her grace was near legendary, lithe and perfectly practiced movements known to bring tears to the eyes of even the most stoic of people and to watch her dance was often considered something one could only experience once in a lifetime. If watching her dance was such a rare opportunity, then Adrien Agreste wondered how many lifetimes he’d stolen away to be in the audience of every one of her Paris shows in the four years since she’d debuted.

No matter how many times Adrien sat in the audience and watched Mademoiselle Cochenille dance, the same shivers still ran up his spine and prickled on his skin. In all the years he’d been following her, a talented dancer in his own right who was drawn to the sheer beauty of her form, he’d never learnt the name of the woman whose shows he never seemed to miss, knowing her only as the Red Lady, Mademoiselle Cochenille. 

His peers at Jeune Ballet de France liked to joke about how he never missed a chance to see her on stage, asking Adrien if he was in love with the nameless woman in the scarlet pointe shoes. Though he knew it was a joke, one he’d always returned with his own remarks into his fellows love lives and various interests or obsessions, Adrien had spent many a night awake asking himself if he was in love with the woman he’d only ever seen decked in tulle and illuminated by glaring stage lights. Could you love someone you’d never met but only seen and only knew for the emotion they portrayed in their movements? Honestly, he didn’t know, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t dream of pulling her dark hair free from the tight bun she was always seen in and freeing the silken, crimson mask from her face to truly know the woman underneath. 

At twenty-one, Adrien knew that time was running out fast for him, that if he didn’t secure a contract with a company very soon he’d return home to his father and reclaim the life of a puppet he’d so desperately tried to escape when he’d turned to dance. One of his tutors at Jeune Ballet de France, a woman by the name of Nathalie, knew what would happen if Adrien couldn’t secure a contract by the end of the year and had pulled what few strings she had to get him to the audition.

Nathalie hadn’t told him what the audition was for, just to come prepared to dance until his feet felt as though it had been over hot coals, and, with an immense amount of trust in the woman, Adrien had found himself standing in a brightly lit studio dancing for a panel from the Paris Opera Ballet. He’d poured his heart and his soul into the piece he’d performed for them, each memory of the gilded cage he’d come from and refused to return to renewing his strength with each sway of his body; the panel had called him back weeks later and offered him the main male role in the show they were presenting, as well as a three year contract to be renewed should everything go as planned. He would’ve been a fool not to accept.

Two months later, he stood in a hallway looking into a studio made of glass and wood and mirrors as he watched a young woman with the darkest, silkiest hair he’d ever seen set her bag down in the corner of the room and begin stretching on one of the barres. She had headphones in her ears and, though he could not hear her through the soundproofed glass separating them, her mouth moved to follow the words of the song playing for her and her alone. The ballet slippers she wore were tattered and old, their blush colour faded and marked with black, but as she began to spin and spin and spin and spin, there was a trust between the woman and the old shoes that Adrien could almost feel. 

Mesmerised by her as she moved, her elegance so familiar in a way he couldn’t name, he stood and watched, unable to tear himself from the hallway. He knew he had a lesson soon, the first lesson he would be having with the woman dancing alongside him, but that lesson and that woman could wait until he’d drunk his fill of the grace of the woman before him. Once she’d finished her stretches, her plies and her arabesques and pirouettes, she crossed the room to her bag and sat, taking a long, deep drink from the water bottle she had within. His eyes snagged on something bright and scarlet in her bag before a hand clapped him on the shoulder and his trance was broken.

“Looks like she’s done warming up, eh?” Turning slightly, Adrien came face to face with a young man about his age with dark hair fading to blue tips and interesting, upturned eyes.

“I guess so,” Unsure of what to do with himself, he watched the woman pull her phone from her bag and begin to tap away on it.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” The young man stuck his hand out to Adrien with a lop-sided grin, the two men shook hands. “I’m Luka, Luka Couffaine, I’m the pianist.”

“The pianist?” Confused, Adrien allowed his eyes to meet Luka’s.

“I’m seriously hoping that you’re Adrien Agreste or I’ve cornered the wrong blonde guy who's been signed on to play Le Chat Noir,”

“Uh, what?” 

“Please tell me that your name is Adrien Agreste, man, or I’m gonna have to go down to reception and get them to call him,” Luka nodded toward the woman in the studio, now stretching out her ankles to an extent Adrien wasn’t sure should be possible. “Mari gets really anxious when people aren’t on time, guess it comes from her once being the person who was never on time.”

“Uh, um, yeah, I’m Adrien Agreste, but I wasn’t aware that I was playing Le Chat Noir. In fact, I didn’t even know what show I’d signed on for,” Scratching the back of his head anxiously, Adrien looked at his feet.

“God, they never tell anyone anything, do they?” There was an interesting mixture of laughter and genuine annoyance in Luka’s tone. “Well, at least I got here before Alya or she would be screaming the building down for the company giving you jack shit on what you’re doing here.”

Adrien chewed his lip and glanced back at the woman in the studio as she began to remove her slippers. 

“So, that, in there,” Luka’s finger moved into Adrien’s gaze as he pointed at the woman. “Is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, or as we generally call her, Mari. She’s our prima and your partner.”

“Is this her first year as a prima?” The longer he looked at her, the younger she looked as she swayed along to the music pulsing through her ears. “She looks very young.”

Luka let out a loud laugh that startled Adrien slightly. “Oh fuck no, Mari’s been a prima for longer than Alya’s been teaching and Alya’s the best teacher we have here, she’s the one who completely rewrote the dance for Minuit se Trouve, which is what you and Mari will be performing together,”

Minuit se Trouve, or Midnight Lies as it was known in English, was the tale of Le Chat Noir and Mademoiselle Cochenille and their blossoming love despite the conflicting lives they led in the day time and the pressure of Le Chat Noir’s villainous father. The prima Adrien had been so enamoured with since her debut had played the role of Mademoiselle Cochenille so many times that she had become known by that name and that name alone, Adrien had watched her dance and tell the tale of falling in love with the roguish Chat Noir on so many stages he’d lost count. 

“Anyway, Mari’s been performing as Mademoiselle Cochenille since she debuted,” At Luka’s words, Adrien’s eyes grew wide; at that same moment, the young woman pulled a pair of scarlet pointe shoes from her bag and set them in front of her. “We’ve gotten a new Chat each time she’s performed it because the primo ballerinos that get paired with her always end up making her extremely anxious and, because she’s the darling of the company, they end up elsewhere lest her stage fright get the better of her.”

The woman in the studio was Mademoiselle Cochenille, the ballerina he’d been following for so long, and she was to be his partner in the ballet she had become famous for. Next time he saw Nathalie, he was going to kiss her.

Clapping Adrien on the shoulder again, Luka moved toward the door into the studio and placed his hand gently on the handle. “Try not to freak her out, man, you really haven’t said much so I haven’t gotten much of a read on you and I honestly have no clue whether or not you’re a massive asshole but regardless of if you are or not, I do get the vibe from you that you’re not an asshole, she gets jumpy meeting new partners for the first time so...uh...don’t be a dick,” Pushing the door open, Luka entered the studio and gestured for Adrien to come in behind him. Mari’s head snapped up as the door opened, her pointe shoes tied on securely and contrasting with her stark black leotard and gauzy, pale pink skirt; she greeted Luka with a grin. “Hey Mari, this is Adrien,” Pointing his thumb toward Adrien, Luka crossed the studio to the glossy, black grand piano in the corner of the room and pulled the shelf covering the keys up. “He’s gonna be our Chat for this season.”

Looking up at Adrien shyly with round, blue eyes, she whispered a faint ‘bonjour’. She was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen in his life, he felt his heart kick up a beat.

“H-hello,” Dropping his bag, he stammered and held a shaking hand out to her, Mari still on the floor and curled in on herself slightly. Glancing at Luka, who nodded with a small smile, she took Adrien’s hand and stood up, shaking it gently. “I-I’m honoured to be dancing with you.”

“I like this one,” At a more audible volume, her voice was lilting and melodic, reverberating around the studio like the most beautiful musical piece Adrien had ever heard. “We may just decide to keep you,” Almost coyly, she gave Adrien a wink and released his hand, turning to her back and pulling free a familiar mask, one that he usually saw from the audience. “The mask helps me feel more confident when I dance, I hope it’s alright if I wear it and if it’s not, you’ll have to keep that to yourself.”

The studio door swung open with a bang as a harried young woman with curly red hair and deep olive skin came rushing in, papers in her hands and a wild look in her eye, directly toward Mari before grabbing the prima’s arm and pulling her over the other side of the studio, into a deep conversation.

“So, what do you think of her?” Arms crossed over the top of the piano with sheets of music splayed out before him, Luka looked at Adrien with a grin.

“I’ve been watching her dance since she debuted, I’ve been to every show she’s done in Paris and I’ve followed her career without even knowing her name,” Luka didn’t look surprised at Adrien’s words but his body language shifted slightly as if to say ‘I’ve heard this before and you’re the first person who’s said it and actually sounded sincere’. “I don’t even know where to start on what I think of her.”

“Good,” Reordering his sheet music as the two women moved back over to the side of the studio he and Adrien were on. “Because then you might be the partner she’s been looking for.”