#barbie prima ballerina

[peach-artblog]

song stuck in my head

[barbielore]

I have made a post before referring to the Fashion Model Collection (colloquially referred to by fans and collectors as the Silkstone Collection), but for all that it is officially referred to as a single collection, there are a lot of interesting subthemes within the collection so it merits a revisit.

For example, a number of these dolls (as of course is expected for "she's everything" Barbie) represented a number of different, and largely historically feminine careers.

(All pictures below sourced from Superstar Dolls Sydney, which was a great resource in putting this together.)

In line with the fact that the Silkstone collection was very much marketed to adult collectors, some of these are also a little racy.

I've been looking at these for a long time trying to figure out which one is my favourite, and I genuinely can't decide. I think perhaps I am going to give an honourable mention to Prima Ballerina Barbie, who is not following a traditional career, but who looks amazing doing it.

[dollshobby]

Barbie Inspiring Women series honors Maria Tallchief: America's First Prima Ballerina

The Inspiring Women Barbie series has introduced a new collectible doll that honors Maria Tallchief, an icon of American ballet and the first Native American woman to be awarded the title of prima ballerina.

This collectible doll not only highlights Tallchief's remarkable achievements in the world of ballet, but also serves as a wonderful reminder of her influence on Indigenous art, culture and representation.

[janikanen]

[barbiesince59]

Prima Ballerina: Classic Grace - 2002

[piedinthepiper]

Prima Ballerina ˖ ⊹

Yandere!Jimin x ballerina!reader

Summary: What’s the difference between a great ballerina and the greatest ballerina? The answer is Park Jimin. And he had his eyes on you in more than a professional way.

Warnings: heavy dubcon, Jimin is super cocky and thinks he knows everything (misogyny?), cursing, corruption, Jimin is also a creep, age gap (reader is of legal age), stalking (non descriptive), smut

Wc: 4.3k

A/n: Written for this request. I love black swan and ballet so I had to do this! Hope you enjoy! Don’t be a silent reader! Like, repost and comment!

Disclaimer: This is 100% fiction. I am in no way saying that this is how any member of bts would act. Nor do I condone the actions detailed in the story. This is purely for entertainment purposes only. If any of the warnings trigger you, or you’re under 18 ¡do not read! I’m not your mother, and I don’t take any accountability for what you decide to read online!

Another disclaimer: I know nothing about ballet except for whatever ballet they show in the Barbie movies. Everything is off Google, so some technical terms and such might be incorrect.

You did a final jump before the dramatic music came to an end. His eyes were piercing through you. Watching your every movement, your every step, your every breath. But he watched you all, you thought to yourself. Everybody had to be perfect for the premiere of Swan lake. The hardest and most demanding ballet you had ever danced in your career. The choreography was almost impossible. So Mr. Park had yet again kept you there for hours overtime, and all of you were exhausted.

“Agh, my feet hurt. I hope this was the last round.”

Your friend, Maria, whispered to you. You smiled at her and was about to answer, when a loud clap was heard throughout the room. It silenced everyone.

“Ms. Sanderson, do you have something to tell the company?”

Mr. Park locked eyes with her. Staring her down from across the room like a predator. She looked a bit tongue tied for a second.

“Ehm- no. No, Mr. Park.”

He nodded at her answer.

“I do think I heard complaining back there, are you sure you didn’t say anything?”

She looked down to the floor and carefully shook her head.

“I don’t believe you, you’re pathetic. Out of my studio!”

He yelled at her and pointed a sharp finger towards the exit. Her eyes continued to stay on the floor. Accepting her fate.

“I said it!”

You yelled back and raised your hand. His eyes turned back to you.

“Bold of you, Ms. y/l/n. Thanks to you all the swans have to practice for another hour. The rest are dismissed.”

The room was filled with sighs and groans.

“Ok, let’s make that two.”

No one uttered a single word, afraid that the time would get longer.

“That’s what I thought. You, come with me.”

He briefly pointed at you, before he started to walk out of the practice room.

“The rest of you can take a 10 minute break.”

Maria looked at you with a apologetic look.

“Thank you, y/n.”

She said and grabbed your hand. You gave her a small smile. Of course you would stand up for her. She was your best friend in the company.

“Yeah, thanks a lot y/n.”

One of the other girls said sarcastically. You didn’t pay it any mind, you would also be furious if someone made you stay two hours overtime when you already were on overtime. You grabbed your leg warmers.

“No worries, you know I got you.”

You comforted Maria, before you started walking towards the exit. You knew Mr. Park went to his office. It wasn’t your first time being scolded.

“Sit down.”

He said once you entered. He was already sitting behind his desk. You sat down opposite of him, leaning down to slide into your leg warmers.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Park.”

You started off with. Trying to sound as apologetic as possible. He sighed.

“Do you think I do this for fun, y/n?”

You got up from your crouched position and looked him in the eyes.

“No I don’t.”

He was one of the best ballet teachers and directors in the whole world. It was obviously an honour just to be able to dance for him. But you knew he had a soft spot for you for some reason. That’s why you were comfortable taking Maria’s place.

“I would much rather be at home as well, relaxing and eating a good meal. But there would be no Swan lake, and there would be no good ballerinas without me.”

He pulled his hand through his black hair in stress. It was slicked back like usual, but throughout the day a few strands had loosened.

“If everyone stopped practicing at five o’clock like scheduled, the premiere would be nothing but chaos. Do you understand that, y/n?”

You nodded. He looked you up and down for a second. Taking in your form. He slowly got up and walked towards you. He grabbed your chin harshly, making you look back up at him.

“I’ve been observing you for the last days, you truly are far too beautiful and talented to be just a swan.”

You raised your eyebrows at his sudden compliment.

“You’re prima ballerina material, for sure.”

His hand slid to the side of your face, cupping your jaw.

“Too bad I have to fire you.”

“What?!”

Your eyebrows crossed as you shook your head out of his grip. His hand went into his pocket, making him look surprisingly relaxed.

“The two of us, let alone the entire company, knows that this isn’t your first time being sent to my office.”

You looked at him in shock. You couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“If I don’t give you the consequences, it’s going to look suspicious.”

You shook your head. He was going to fire you just because something as simple as complaining?

“You can’t do that.”

“I’ll do whatever I want with my ballerinas.”

He smirked again, before walking to stand right in front of you. You looked up and down his long body. Before looking back at him with your most innocent, but still sultry eyes.

“Please don’t fire me, Mr. Park. You wouldn’t do that to me would you?”

He cocked his head at your plea. Scanning you up and down yet again. He had a puzzled look on his face.

“Don’t test me.”

You grabbed his hand as you fell down to your knees. You knew he liked it when you begged. And since this was a life or death situation for your career, you didn’t mind being a little extra.

“I’ll do anything. Please just let me continue to dance for you. I’m nothing without you. I can’t- you can’t-”

You knew what buttons to push. His ego was too big to not take the bait.

“You’re right. It would be a shame to waste your potential.”

He lifted your head up again by your chin. A sudden sexual tension hit you, once you saw the outline of his bulge. You knew your actions had an effect on him, but not to that extent.

“It would be a shame to waste such a pretty face.”

You tried your best to look him in the eyes. It was hard to not shy away at a situation like that, even for you.

“Please, Mr. Park.”

He inhaled sharply, before he broke out in a smile.

“I forgive you, y/n. I can’t live with myself if I don’t give you another chance.”

You smiled up at him as well, preceding to get back up on your feet. But his arm found your shoulder and stopped you in your ascend.

“Wait.”

He warned you, and you quickly sat back down on your knees.

“I like seeing you like this, it’s not often you look so- submissive.”

Chills ran down your spine at his words. You definitely did not take that as a compliment. You were quite fiery, yes. And in any normal situation you would never let a man speak to you like he did. But the fear of losing your job, combined with the reverence you felt towards him, made you defy yourself.

“After this season I want you to take private lessons with me. Every Tuesday and Thursday.”

You nodded carefully, not looking up at him.

“Don’t look so down, darling. I’ll make you my next prima ballerina.”

“He said what?”

Maria half whispered in shock.

“Ms. Sanderson.”

Mrs. Petrova, your instructor, who was so old she probably was alive when swan lake was composed, hushed her. Maria looked at her before looking down at her moving feet. The company was warming up, standing in clean lines against the railing, moving to the rhythm of the slow classical music.

“Not only did he not fire you.”

She whispered once Mrs. Petrova was at the other end of the room.

“But he also said he would make you a prima ballerina?”

You nodded.

“Switch to third position!”

The two of you switched.

“Wow, you are so lucky. Mr. Park hasn’t had a prima ballerina in years.”

You smiled at her, and lifted you head higher when Mrs. Petrova walked by. You remained silent until you knew she was far enough away.

“I’m happy of course, it’s just- I don’t know. There’s something weird about him.”

“Yeah he’s like really cocky.”

She answered and held back a laugh.

“That too, but he’s just eerie. Like I don’t know if I want to spend so much time with him alone.”

“Ms. y/l/n! Would you like to share something with the company? Or do I have to send the two of you to Mr. Parks office?”

Mrs. Petrova suddenly bursted out. You locked eyes with Maria. Not knowing what to answer the old hag.

“We were just talking about-“

“Boys, just boys.”

You interrupted Maria. Not wanting her to say anything about you or Mr. Park. Mrs. Petrova gave the two of you a strict look, before the music started playing again.

“Please focus on your movements, not the opposite gender.”

She scolded before walking away from the two of you.

“And fourth position!”

“He just kept looking at me weirdly, and telling me that I’m beautiful and shit.”

You said as the two of you were walking down towards the cafeteria for lunch.

“Oh my god! He probably has a crush on you or something!”

Maria said a little bit too loud. You poked her in her side with your elbow.

“Please, keep it down.”

She started laughing, and you quickly followed. As you turned a corner you crashed into something. Or rather someone. A hand snuck around you waist, keeping you from falling. You looked up, finding the familiar brown eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Park. I didn’t see where I was going.”

He looked at you for a second, before smiling. He didn’t let go of your waist, and when you became aware of that you awkwardly stepped away from him.

“No harm done.”

He simply said and walked away. You looked over at Maria.

“I get it.”

She simply said as you started walking again.

“Right?”

You asked, looking back at her as she tried to keep up with you.

“What ever look he just gave you was not the look you give to someone you have a crush on.”

The season had ended, for a minute you felt relief. Knowing you had time off now to just relax before the next season. But as you read the message on your phone, you felt that relief fade away.

“Studio 5, next Thursday at 07.00 am. Don’t be late.”

You sighed, was this really what you wanted? Of course it was a dream come true to potential become Mr. Parks new prima ballerina. But you couldn’t help but feel weird about that time in his office. It seemed like he had other intentions in mind. Mr. Park was an attractive man yes, but he was way older than you and you didn’t want his attention in that way. He was your teacher, your mentor. Not a potential hook up. You didn’t see him in that way, and you hoped against all odds that he didn’t see you like that either.

What you didn’t know was that in that moment, outside on the dark street. He was there. Looking at you through your window. Watching your puzzled look at his text. He didn’t know his intentions fully yet either. But he did know they were not good.

“Higher.”

He simply said as he watch you dance to the music. It was your fifth lesson together, and everything was going well. You hadn’t seen the side of him that you saw when he proposed this idea. And you were enjoying yourself, getting these private lessons had really helped you improve. In the next second arabesque, you lifted your leg even higher. Showing him that you listened. But he still shut the music off. You stepped down from your tips, looking at him as he walked up to you.

“Turn around.”

He said once he reached you. And you did as instructed. You looked at him through the big mirrors.

“Do your second arabesque.”

You stood back up on your toes, and gracefully bent into a second arabesque.

“Look at yourself in the mirror.”

He said, and you did. You instinctively pushed your leg even further up, once you saw your own reflection.

“Now back to full position.”

You moved your face upwards again, looking away from the mirror. You felt his hands touch your waist. He straightened your back, before one of his hands went to your lifted leg.

“Look back at yourself.”

He almost whispered in your ear, now with one hand on your waist, and the other holding your leg higher than what you were comfortable with. You smiled once you saw yourself. Your arabesque looked different, more sophisticated.

“When you do your second arabesque, or any arabesque for that matter. Remember this. Straight back and high leg.”

He said in a low comforting tone once he saw your smile. You nodded, and stepped down from your tippy toes. He let go of your leg, but moved that hand to the other side of your waist.

“Think of me holding your waist, it’ll help you stabilise.”

He whispered now, you felt his warm breath on the back of your neck. You turned to look at him.

“Thank you.”

You muttered. His eyes immediately fell to your lips, and in a split second his lips were on yours. You were caught off guard, and didn’t respond at first. But once it dawned on you what was happening you quickly moved your face away from his. You felt his hands on your waist tighten.

“Please don’t ever do that again.”

You looked up at the mirror, wanting to see his reaction. He was looking you dead in the eye, with anger written all over his face. He leaned down to kiss your bare shoulder, still maintaining eye contact. Before he deeply whispered.

“I’ll do whatever I want with my ballerinas.”

His hand moved up to your face as he turned to kiss you yet again. You pushed him away, and tried to make a run for it. But he snaked his arm around your chest.

“Let me go!”

You struggled against him, now scared of what would happen if you didn’t get away. Your fight or flight instinct kicked in and you elbowed him as hard as you could in his side. His hand loosened and you ran. But not quick enough. He grabbed you by your arm and threw you into the big mirror. It was pure luck that it didn’t shatter. His body locked you in.

“Hush, I won’t hurt you.”

He said, and for a second you stopped fighting. You were out of breath, but still managed to give him a death glare.

“Let me go!”

You tried once again. He shook his head.

“Do you think I just give away free lessons? Don’t you think you need to repay me?”

You felt something hard against your abdomen. You wanted to cry, you didn’t know what to do. His face shifted once he saw your eyes watering.

“No, no. I’m not a rapist, y/n! God no. But if you want to be my prima ballerina. You have to get your priorities straight.”

You clung onto the little bit of relief you felt from his words.

“I’ve tried my best to stay away, y/n. I really have. But there’s just something about you.”

You felt his hips grind against yours.

“You make me fucking crazy. I can’t wait any longer. I need you.”

He let out a small moan at the friction. A tear fell down your face.

“Please, Mr. Park. Let me go.”

You sobbed. He hushed you again.

“I’ll let you go. Just listen to me.”

You took a deep breath, collecting yourself as much as you could.

“By next Thursday I want an answer. Either you show up or you don’t. Don’t be late.”

He pushed himself off the wall and gave you one last look before slowly walking out the studio. Leaving you alone in the big dance room. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

“I don’t know what to do, Maria. This is like a fucking nightmare!”

You said sobbing onto Marias lap as she comforted you. You called her the minute you got home, knowing that she already knew most of the backstory. She immediately came over to your place, wanting to be there for you in a situation like this. You were forever great full for having a friend like her.

“You have to report this. Surely the police could do something about him.”

She said in a calm voice, stroking your hair lightly. You sat up in your bed, wiping your tears away from your swollen face.

“Would they though?”

You asked defeated. Mr. Park was a rich and famous man. You wanted to believe Marias theory, but the hard sad truth was that you didn’t stand a chance against him. Especially with no proof.

“Either I don’t show up and give up my career or-“

You paused, collecting your thoughts.

“Or you give that bastard what he wants.”

Maria finished for you. Knowing exactly what you were thinking.

“Look, being Jimin Parks prima ballerina is huge. It really is, but- I don’t know, is it really worth it? Is it really worth loosing your dignity for a life of fame?”

She asked you with a worried face. You blinked away your tears, not wanting to cry anymore.

“What else would I do? I’ve been dancing my entire life, everything I’ve ever done has lead up to this moment. I can’t-“

You shook your head, not letting the emotions take control over you again.

“I have to show up, I have to talk some sense into him. I can’t give up now. I just can’t.”

You looked down at your hands in your lap as you felt a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“You could go to college, get a degree, get a nine to five. Anything but this, please I can’t watch you go through with this. It’s not safe to see him again.”

You looked up at her again.

“And be a complete failure? Not only to my parents, to you, to the company, but also to myself. This is all I’ve ever dreamed of, Maria.”

“You won’t be a failure! You’re an amazing dancer, you have real talent. But it’s not worth it.”

You shook your head. You had already made up your mind.

“I’m sorry.”

You mumbled. Maria sighed and got up from the bed.

“You do you, girl. But you better not call me crying next Thursday. I won’t feel bad for you.”

She said before walking out your room. You were alone with this now. But like you told her, you couldn’t give up on your dream. No matter the cost.

Thursday. You were sweating. A lump had formed itself inside your stomach, and it was impossible to to ignore it. You took what felt like your last breath before you opened the door to the studio. He stood in the other end, hands crossed over his chest, with a smirk plastered on his lips.

“You’re late.”

His voice rang through the big room, leaving an echo. You stepped into the room, the door shutting behind you. Another echo filling the otherwise dead silent room. You didn’t walk towards him, you stayed by the door. The silence making the lump in your stomach grow even larger.

“What are you doing?”

He asked, still with a slight smirk.

“Come here, we have dancing to do.”

You didn’t know what to do. Your entire body was screaming for you to run out the door and never look back. But your brain didn’t let you move.

“Come over here, y/n. Right now!”

He said in a strict tone, once you didn’t listen. Your own feet moved against your own will, as you slowly started moving forward. You put your bag down on your way.

“Good girl.”

He said, barely audible. But you heard it. All your senses were sharpened. He watched you like a predator, as you can closer and closer. You stopped at a reasonable distance. Close enough to have a conversation with him, but still just out of reach.

“Why so gloomy? You’ve made the biggest decision in your life, baby.”

He stepped closer to you. Every single muscle in your body tensed as his hand met your face in a loving embrace.

“I’m going to make you a star.”

He whispered. You shook your head.

“I don’t want to have sex with you, Mr. Park.”

His smile faded at your words. You straightened your back, trying your best to seem confident and not afraid of the man standing in front of you.

“This is all I’ve ever dreamt of. It’s all I’ve ever worked for. But I refuse to think that this is the only way I can get what I want.”

You said as you tried to conceal the shaky breath escaping your mouth.

“Please, I don’t want to sleep my way to fame. I want to earn it. So tell me, do you see a true and genuine prima ballerina in me. Or am I just a piece of meat?”

He looked at you directly in your eyes. You didn’t break eye contact. You were not giving up, not yet. He broke out in laughter after a few seconds of staring into your soul.

“Oh, y/n. Please.”

He continued laughing, as if this whole thing was a joke. You stayed as serious as ever.

“This is what I like about you. You’re so stubborn, so strong. You don’t see that often around here.”

He turned serious in a split second.

“Why would I be lying to you? Huh? I can sleep with whoever I want. If I wanted just a one night stand I’d pick one of the other girls. Someone easier to manipulate.”

His hand slid around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“I’m a man of my word, y/n. I see potential in you, I wouldn’t just say that to anyone.”

His eyes flickered down to your lips. You instinctively turned your head away, opting to looking at the two of you in the mirror. He looked back at you in the reflection.

“I see my next prima ballerina.”

He said and pointed at the mirror.

“You’re not just beautiful and talented, you have a strong mind. You’re perfect.”

You sighed, looking back at him.

“Why would you waste it all?”

He asked and softly caressed your chin. Your gaze flicked down, wanting to look anywhere but him. He was right, why would you waste the opportunity to have everything you’ve ever wanted?

“It’s honestly a package deal. You get fame and fortune, and good sex. I don’t see what the problem is honestly.”

You looked back up at him again. Trying to conceal the ick you just got.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

His face turned into a devilish grin.

“Join me in my office.”

He hastily got rid of your bollero, throwing it onto the floor. The second you stepped into his office his lips were on yours. Your fate was sealed, there was no return now. He grabbed at your hips harshly, digging his fingers into you with desperation and lust. He lifted you up, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. He walked over to his desk, leaving your lips for a moment to push whatever was on it onto the floor. It all hit the floor and made a loud crashing noise. He placed you onto the desk, continuing his heated attack of your lips.

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long, baby.”

He said in between kisses. Working on your wrap around skirt and tights. You lifted yourself off the desk so he could slide your garments off. Leaving you in your underwear and tank top.

“You have no idea how crazy you’ve made me. How many sins I’ve done in your favour.”

His lips crashed back onto yours. You started thinking of your career as you heard him removing his belt. Preparing yourself for what was to come. He pushed your upper body down onto the desk, making your head dip over the edge of the desk. You looked at his office upside down, staring at the expensive painting hanging on the wall. You felt him sliding your underwear to the side.

“What a pretty pussy you have, baby.”

He said before sliding himself into you, making you moan as you felt yourself being filled up.

“Better than I ever imagined.”

He groaned as he started to slowly move. You continued to look at the painting of the ballerina with a bouquet in her hands bowing down in a gracious pose. Your hands found his forearms, digging your nails into his skin. Your breath got heavy as you felt his speed increase.

But still you focused on the ballerina. You imagined it was you. Maybe that would be you after this. Bowing deeply to the applause of hundreds, maybe even thousands of people in the audience. They all applauding you. You moaned loudly once he hit a good spot.

“You like that? You want it, huh?”

“Yes.”

You said in a shaky voice. You wanted this, you wanted this more than anything. This was all worth it in the end. You would be a star, a prima ballerina. Someone little girls looked up to, and adults wanted to be. You would be like that ballerina in the painting. Gracious and beautiful in every way. Everything you ever aspired to be. Everything you were meant to be.

“God, I’m gonna-“

You belonged here. On that desk. In that studio. Alone on a stage, bowing to the audience after the greatest performance of their lives. You were Mr. Park’s new prima ballerina.

——————————————————————————

Thank you for reading! Do you want to read more?

Masterlist

[scribbleseas]

Straight Laced, Chapter V: To Be A Force of Nature…

Description: After the London’s Royal Ballet company’s prima ballerina goes missing within a string of mysterious disappearances among the ballet’s young ballerinas, you finally get your chance to debut in the leading role, taking on the position’s physical toil and immense social pressure. Although this role was supposed to be your grand jeté into the spotlight, it is quickly complicated when these disappearances catch the eye of Ciel Phantomhive — the Queen’s Guard Dog. He is a captious and shrewd man who also happens to be one of London’s most eligible bachelors.

For enough profit for you to secure your freedom for the first time, Lord Phantomhive double casts you as both his accomplice to solving these dancer disappearances and… his pretend lover. While debuting as London’s new prima ballerina, you must perfect a brand new routine: deceiving all of the nation’s polite society while actively searching for a serial killer — all while being an immigrant from France with a dancer’s reputation.

What could go wrong when you realize this off-stage performance of yours may not be an act at all?

Story Warnings: detailed description of gore, pain, and violence, detailed death, smut & explicit sexual scenes, allusions to non-consensual sex, objectification, prostitution, allusions to under-aged prostitution, smoking, drinking, eating disorder tendencies (food restriction, frequent references to wanting to maintain a certain weight, over-practicing & exercising), infidelity, fake courtship, swearing

Author’s Note: idk I have nothing to say for myself. i’m sorry this is so late. anddd keep an eye out for an upcoming poll! I need some input about which story you guys would like to see from me next, since we’re now officially halfway through this journey! As always, let me know what you think about this chapter! I love love LOVE audience interaction. So fun and so motivating. i love you all and hope you enjoy it!!

Happy Reading,

- dan (Depression Barbie LMAO)

MASTERLIST

⇐ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇒

The End of October

The Royal Opera House, The Practice Room

“Try it again, Y/n,” Natasha ordered. The bottom of her cane knocked against the floor to cue the pianist to start the music.

Despite your obedient nod, your whole body protested.

Every single muscle in your feet begged for mercy, and your legs and lower back began to do the same. The amount of complex pointe work and arabesques in the variation were what made it such a challenge— maintaining the perfect form but without being too stiff. The Sugar Plum Fairy had to be regal and majestic; you needed to be buoyant on your toes to create the vision of a fairy ready to flutter her wings and fly.

The Nutcraker’s Sugar Plum Fairy Variation was the physical and emotional equivalent of a chess game with Ciel Phantomhive. You watched yourself in the mirror, eyeing the streams of sweat that fell from your hairline and down the bridge of your nose. Still, your arms fanned to either side and your leg drew back to create your starting position: b-plus.

This was the piece that established the fairy’s power in the land of sweets. It needed to be perfect or near perfect by now or Natasha would have your head.

“Your pas de bourreé needs to be lighter,” the director criticized, catching every error in your movement. Her gaze was heavier than a magnifying glass. “It should be airy— and you must maintain the connection between your fingers and your head.” You frowned, your eyebrows knitting with concentration.

She has cautioned you about a heavy step sequence before, Y/n. Try harder— Tchaikovsky wanted this dance to be as light as raindrops; this is the second time Natasha has told you to land gentler.

Your throat felt dry with embarrassment, but you forced yourself to power through. The music hesitated to a short stop while you spread your arms as if you were bracing for a wide hug.

Seconds later, the music launched into its famous chorded sequence up the keys and you stepped into your piqué manége. While a pas de bourreé resembled a sideways sequence of you rapidly tiptoeing across the practice studio floor, the piqué manége and coupé jeté combination was a constant step and turn rotation. You had to spring into small jumps to make each turn, repeating the process until you outlined the perimeter of a square with your spins around the studio floor.

Your head swam, dizzied because you skipped breakfast and lunch that day because you wanted the extra time in the studio. The investigation with Ciel was eating more into your practice time than you wanted to admit— he summoned you to take short promenades through parks, short appearances at bakeries, and specialty boutiques, spoiling you. Showing the public that you were well provided for — frankly blooming under the warmth of his generous fortune— was the Earl of Phantomhive’s ‘love’ language.

“Keep your chest up,” Natasha’s voice felt distant, even though she was in the same room as you and the rest of the company. “You should be thinking of your spinal cord as a fixed structure that your ribs rotate around. And keep your arms controlled with these spins. You are delicate, but there is still a commanding firmness to you.”

You took your final spins, returning to the middle of the stage to chassé up— otherwise, arrange yourself into the performance’s ending position. Both of your arms were straight and angled upwards like you were reaching for a high shelf, and your back rounded to create an energetic arch. Your left foot extended behind your right leg.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Natasha inspected your chassé, peering at you in the same way Ciel examined whatever literature he happened to be reading at the time. Her cold fingertips guided your chin a few centimeters upwards before her head bobbed in a content nod. “Keep your gaze in line with your arms, in this position. Always.”

Natasha’s lips were relaxed in their frown. She was in a particularly stormy mood during this practice, all fortified scowls and impatient scoffs before this moment. Now, rather than completely vexed, the choreographer only seemed mildly frustrated. You struggled to hold her frustration against her— you had been having the same difficulties with this dance since the beginning of the month. You were frustrated with yourself.

“I appreciate your feedback, Natasha” you replied, maintaining your appreciative pretense for the rest of the company members present. Your smile was mechanical and fake, nothing more than the flimsy curtain that the backstage hands rolled in and out between every act. For you, harsh criticism gracefully was an act— smiling while your chest burned with indignation was incredibly blood-boiling.

Especially after you dedicated at least a full afternoon to perfecting the same piece.

She sent you a curt nod in response, only proving to you that there was something on her mind. Something unpleasant…along the lines of her husband being a serial rapist and potential murderer. Guilt sweat beamed in your hairline because, by Ciel’s orders, you still were not allowed to inform her of what you learned about William. But if she found out on her own…you could certainly comfort her, right?

“You are all dismissed,” Natasha addressed the class. “But remember! Soldiers have their designated costuming times with myself and the costuming director this upcoming week! Talk to one of us for your appointment.”

You waited until Natasha finished answering every post-rehearsal question, sending a nameless company member scurrying off with notes on the performance, or some set of miscellaneous instructions. Now that dress rehearsal was only a month away, it was time for each company member to make their dances technically perfect. Natasha preferred to focus on mechanical accuracy before adding the art and drama back into the ballet with the addition of stage makeup and glitzy costuming. Furthermore, Natasha was the heart and soul of the London Royal Company— it was a risk to so much as inhale at an undesignated time.

“Is there something bothering you?” you asked, your eyes breaking away from the door once you were sure everyone was out of earshot. “You were harsher than usual. I know dress rehearsal starts soon but—”

“Everything is fine with me, Y/n,” Natasha replied chillingly, jumping to the defensive. Her hand adjusted on her cane’s grip, bringing the walking accessory closer to her to re-shift her weight. She hissed through her clenched teeth at her bad leg, suggesting the old injury was hurting her. “If I were you, I would be more worried about my dancing than my director. Your rendition of Plum’s variation left much to be desired,” she said without a hint of hesitation.

Of course not— when it came to the choice of sparing a cast member’s self-esteem or breaking their confidence into jagged pieces of shrapnel for quicker results, Natasha would always, inevitably, choose the latter. She wasn’t the best prima ballerina in London five years ago because her feedback was obsequious. “Honestly. I would have thought you would have a breakthrough with your pointe work by now,” Natasha continued, disappointed.

With her sharp cheekbones and straight, raven hair, her visage reminded you of a slightly grumpier and career-driven Snow White.

“I will dedicate every free moment to it,” you insisted, your cheeks hot. Tears stung at your eyes, but you were accustomed to the suffocating feeling and managed to hold them in until you reached the closed door of your dressing room.

The moment you turned your lock closed, you turned towards the inner side of your door, resting your forehead on the cool wood. Your tears tracked down your cheeks, but you made no effort to flick them away. Not yet. You needed to sulk. You deserved to sulk.

“My wife doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” a man’s amused tenor told you, causing your head to jerk back in surprise. “I say, ignore her. I, for one, had a lovely time watching you today, my new prima.”

Ballerina, you wanted to finish the title. Prima felt much too familiar; much too oppressive.

William Wood was as relaxed as a lazy cat, his long and lean body poised comfortably on your couch. He gave a fleeting, yet bitter, look to the gold wedding band around his left ring finger before returning his gaze to you.

You made a rapid effort to wipe your distressed tears away. Normally, you were never one to cry over some constructive criticism, but you guessed it was your building stress— the amount of time and anxiety it consumed. The dark knowledge you had weighed on your mind heavily: knowing the truth about the man sitting in front of you, how he potentially murdered ballerinas like you. The fact that he was responsible for horrendous crimes and was still free to flash a winsome smile at you with the expectation that you’d fall for it.

Moreso, you imagined he used the same strong stare and enticing words to trap all of his victims; whether or not he persuaded them that he cared about them, or ripped all of their confidence away with his own surplus of it.

You cleared your throat, hesitant to meet his cool gray eyes. While Natasha’s were slightly blue, William’s were only a monochrome silver— as if all color was drained from them. His thin lips pulled into a half smile that he likely meant to be seductive and welcoming, but the longer you watched him, the more pursued you felt. He was watching you with the salacious eagerness a hunter would, aiming his rifle at an unsuspecting deer.

How could the other girls have reacted? Amélie, Eliza, Janet? Your heart was heavy with grief. The pain that these girls would never be able to share their stories with the rest of the world. Their lives were stolen from them. By this man.

“Thank you, Mr. Wood,” you greeted tersely. You knew your smile was unconvincing; you couldn’t bring yourself to bring the warmth of recognition into it, or the respect an employee would show to her handsome and potentially homicidal employer. All you could think of was the blood on his hands and the utter certainty across his lips. He was a huntsman. “I see you have returned from Paris. How was your trip?”

How could he live with himself?

“Just fine, Y/n,” William stood to his feet and took a leisurely set of steps towards you, casually crowding you against the door you just locked. There was enough room between you for him to deny his lack of respect for personal space, but so little room that you could spot every individual freckle across the wide bridge of his nose and his cheeks. “But I’m more interested in you. Your technique has simply flourished since that Janet girl left us.”

Left us?

You tensed, but you forced your body to remain open, fighting its natural urge to curl in and shield you from the danger. There was no hesitation in William’s face— not when he started flirting with you, and certainly not now, after he suggested that Janet simply retired from dancing and disappeared. Of course, the Yard was keeping these ballerina disappearances out of the papers. No one else knew there was anything wrong except for those clothes to the ten women, those investigating, and of course, the killer.

Ciel would tell you to talk about Janet and the recent company losses to gauge William’s response. His body language, what was saying, what he was not saying. He would tell you to either ignore the flirting or use it to your advantage, as rejecting Wood would likely bruise his ego too much for you to continue pursuing this…angle. Embarrassed, William would never speak to you again…or if you angered him, he’d simply kill you later.

You would need to use this interaction to set up future time with William. That way you and Ciel could make a plan to get his confession or gather concrete evidence, considering Ciel was too cautious to make the arrest if he wasn’t completely convinced.

If the course of the investigation was solely your choice, you would have already had William arrested for assault, abduction, and at least one murder. Unfortunately, your authority only extended to waltzing tips and how to make Ciel’s publicity smile appear less like a grimace.

William’s eyebrows raised, prompting your response. He was suspicious of your hesitation— which was surprising, given that he was married to your director. How could you fail to notice this…aggressiveness before this week? Now, it was clear to you.

“That is so kind of you to say, sir,” you paused, unsure of what to say next. How could you extract more information about Janet without appearing accusatory? “This opportunity has been extraordinary for my career. It is so hard for me to believe that Janet would give it up so senselessly.” You watched William’s face, looking for any flicker of emotion, but there was none beyond his pensive nod.

“You should know how it is, by now, Y/n,” William drawled with the wisdom of an experienced man who had been watching the ballet field for a near century, rather than a measly thirty years. While the Wood family owned the opera house since its construction in 1732, William only started running the Wood’s business empire five years ago — after his father, John, died abruptly. Heart failure.

The last production the opera house had under John Wood was the Sleeping Beauty run where William met Natasha, the new prima ballerina. They were both around your age at the time. You couldn’t imagine meeting your future spouse and marrying them only for your father to die a month or two afterward.

“Not everyone can take the heat. Not everyone should. They can’t handle it because they’re not like you. You’re a shark. A force of nature; someone special. I can see it,” William continued, taking a loose strand of hair that fell free from your bun and tucking it behind your ear. His fingertips lingered on the side of your neck, and the top of his thumb kept your chin tilted upwards towards his face.

“A force of nature?” You asked, almost as puzzled as you were uncomfortable. You wished you could take a step away, but your backside was pressed against your only exit.

William chuckled, pleased to have the opportunity to explain himself. It made him feel smarter than you— something that most men adored as much as staring at you. “Yes. That means, unstoppable, strong, and…unforgettable. Beyond control. Like I said: don’t listen to Natasha. You were flawless. You are flawless.”

Your breath hitched, unable to hide the euphoria that came with praise, but of course, not without recalling that these were lines he likely rehearsed. William knew how to attract his victims with honey before resorting to vinegar. Ultimately, it made you realize that this was how Amélie, Eliza, and Janet felt. Seen. Special. Noticed by the owner of the opera house. Frankly, if you hadn’t been promoted, you doubted you would have been William’s next target.

Still, even if you knew you were a force of nature before William said so, there was something more empowering about hearing so. For once, it wasn’t your ego; it was praise. Genuine, few and far between, praise. Something educated and intricate— it might have been nearly leagues more satisfying than faraway applause from an audience that didn’t know the first thing about ballet…if you didn’t know that William had ulterior motives. If you didn’t know that this was the trap the huntsman fabricated to catch his next meal.

William took your prolonged silence as encouragement. He leaned downwards, each gaining centimeter only pushing him closer to your lips.

“Mr. Wood…” you cut his advance short, hesitating as you remembered that rejection was not an option. You tried to soften your expression, and your body, given that your words came out somewhat flat. You thought of the weak-willed princesses in children’s tales; the submissive character you put on for all of your old patrons; the long set of polite society’s rules Sebastian branded into the front of your brain.

William’s approach was to take vulnerable and insecure girls and make them feel like a force of nature because of him. Not because they were, inherently.

But you were. This time, he didn’t know who he was messing with.

“I think…we ought to wait until we have more time together,” you said sweetly, your hand coming from your side and adjusting William’s shirt collar. It was folded unevenly, and even the minute gesture was enough for him to think you cared about him— that you were looking intently enough to realize that there was a problem with his wardrobe in the first place. Any special attention from intended prey was like a drug to these power-starved men. It made you wonder why they thought they had all of the power. “Could you imagine the scandal? If everyone in the company found out?” You asked, widening your eyes with ironic innocence.

You were the black swan, Odile. Mischievous, conniving, confident. Frankly, thinking about making the arrest and putting the bastard away was what created your reluctantly seductive grin— much in the same way as Odile’s excitement to manipulate Odette’s prince.

William’s back straightened as he considered you once more, looking over you with reignited vigor, now that you were fully committed to playing his game. He tilted his head, though his eyes were slightly more hesitant to leave your lips.

“I think you’d get some enjoyment out of all that attention, Prima,” William joked, taking your hand in his. He pressed a kiss onto your knuckles before doing the same for the inner part of your wrist. His thumb rubbed the same spot on your wrist as if he wanted the feeling of his foreign lips on your skin to linger. “But unfortunately, you do have a point. I think I have a remedy for us, though,” William looked ponderous before he fished out a ring of keys from his jacket pocket with his free hand— he was still holding yours until he needed both hands to sift through the crowded keys.

To you, it suggested he had several places he needed to keep locked away. That could be residences, safes, closed doors, drawers... the number of potential areas to hide murder weapons and implicating items could be limitless if all of the locations for these keys were his. It was suspicious.

Once William found the key he was looking for, he unlinked it from the key ring. He pressed it into your palm so hard that you could feel it indent in your skin. “Here. This opens the back door of my country house. We will meet there. Tomorrow— after your performance,” he ordered, closing your fingers around the key for you. He pointedly failed to ask if you were available, presuming you would make the time for him.

“The one in… Southampton?” Your mouth felt dry. You went to William and Natasha’s country home once— about a year ago. Natasha allowed you to spend the night after you arrived at the docks after midnight, returning from a short visit to France. Your director didn’t trust you to make it back to your home safely, and she insisted you stay the night with her and William.

The Wood’s Southampton house was a symbol of Natasha’s kindness to you, and now, you were about to use it to further betray her. Failing to tell her about her husband’s crime was the first; and now, you were about to seduce him in order to expose those misgivings.

“Yes. Natasha stays late with the costuming director on Thursdays and Fridays. It’s perfect,” William reminded you. While most companies started costuming for the lead dancers, Natasha liked to start with the ensemble. She claimed it was best to get all of the mass-produced costumes fitted and out of the way before focusing on the standout pieces like yours.

Thinking about your Sugar Plum Fairy costume made you giddy with excitement. While you haven’t seen the ensemble itself yet, Poppy (the costume director that William failed to name) showed you her beautiful sketches for it.

“Meet me there at eleven. Sharp,” William ordered decisively, offering you no chance to protest. Within seconds, he unlocked your door, made sure there was no one outside to see him exit, and swiftly made his leave.

The Same Day, Dusk

Ciel’s Carriage

“No. Absolutely not,” Ciel’s stoic, yet resolute frown pursed into a line. He angled his chin upwards, daring you to argue with him.

“What do you mean?” You demanded, your eyebrows knitting together incredulously. You wanted to stand up to punctuate your surprise and frustration, but the moving carriage wouldn’t allow you to. “This is the perfect opportunity. You said it yourself: We need to investigate William Wood. If he is with me, his guard will be down! And we need evidence and a confession!”

“We would do better to explore a…different angle. I would prefer to meet with him,” Ciel said boredly, opening his book to his current page. He clearly didn’t think much of this disagreement; you thought it was, by far, the most ridiculous one the two of you dealt with up to this point. He was being brainless— you had an opportunity to get into William’s home and make him vulnerable, and Ciel didn’t want to so much as entertain your idea! Your lead!

“But, why?” You insisted, protesting like a child fighting their mother for an extra piece of candy. “What could possibly be wrong with this plan? Setting a meeting up between you and him — without looking suspicious — could take ages!”

“It will not take ages,” Ciel said, emphasizing his use of your words. He skimmed over the words in the passage of his book — The Canticle of Saint Eulalie — idly, speaking while he read. The novel was a relic from medieval French literature, a name you vaguely recognized only to have Ciel snicker at you for not being as inclined to know every facet of your home culture. It was disquieting to know that Ciel was fluent in your first language. When he offered to speak to you in that language, you had denied it vehemently because it was simply too personal. Speaking in French took you back to your mother, dance school, and every painful memory you left back on the European mainland. “I want to extend an invitation to Wood about a business venture.”

“Ciel, it is too convenient. No one will believe that we are in love if you make a business deal immediately after courting me,” you insisted.

“It only matters if he believes that it is a true business meeting,” Ciel said, flipping the current page over.

“I guarantee you, he will not,” you shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “William might be a sadistic criminal but he certainly is not a moron—” unlike you, genius “…and he will make the connection between you and me. Natasha has to have told him already.”

“Honestly! You are being stubborn because this is my lead! It was my acting and my efforts that gave us this opportunity. You are insecure. You are selfish! If we let our investigation progress slower than necessary, more people die! Is it worth it? Is your—” You would have proceeded with your tirade until you and Ciel reached your destination, but he slammed his book closed with a start. The heavy sound caused you to hesitate, giving him the opportunity to intercede.

“Y/n! Your plan is too dangerous!” Ciel snapped. “You are an untrained civilian. You are not going to meet a man who has assaulted and likely killed ten other of your peers. Certainly not when he likely imagines you as his eleventh! Honestly! You must be mad. Do you have a death wish?”

“I do not care about that,” you admitted, taking in a long inhale through your nose and quickly glancing out the window. Your fingers intertwined in your lap as your shoulders fell sheepishly. “The danger,” you clarified at the Earl’s perplexed expression. “I truly…it is of no importance to me.”

“And why is that?” Ciel demanded.

“Why do I have the right? They all…died. Why do I get the privilege of…” You let the sentence die, gesturing with your clammy hands because you couldn’t string the proper words together. How could you to know to be careful when these girls didn’t know what they were getting into? They deserved the same warnings you had, but that would never be.

“Come on, Ciel. We need access to his home and his belongings. We will not get it if we pursue your business meeting idea. Please, please, let me do this,” you said, fishing William’s house key out of your jacket’s pocket. The silver key had his matching initials engraved down the side of it in cursive. “While I keep him occupied, you and Sebastian can find the spare office keys in the studio and—”

There was a new grudging respect in Ciel’s face, paired with a thoughtful frown. He was considering your idea, freshly reminded that you were extremely committed to the investigation. After all, it was a personal matter, now.

“No,” Ciel started. He quickly sent a silencing look at you, noticing the confrontational way you leaned in toward him. The carriage was rather small, putting you in the same proximity William was to you, earlier that day. “Not without us. I will not, in good conscience, permit you to go tomorrow without Sebastian and myself. We don’t know what William might try with you.”

A slow smile spread across your face, victorious. You truly were a force of nature.

“You care about me,” you grinned, nose wrinkling with glee. “How kind. Who knew the magnificent, oh-so-powerful, Lord of Phantomhive could care for someone besides himself…” Your hand flew over your heart dramatically. “I’m touched!”

“I had no idea it was controversial to ensure a civilian’s survival,” Ciel smarted, his exposed eye-rolling. His face flushed, but you couldn’t decipher the cause. Frustration from having to accommodate your ever-shifting mood? Embarrassment? No, Lord Phantomhive could never view himself as lesser-than!

Or perhaps, you were right. He did care about you.

Your cheeks grew warm at the thought, causing your head to jerk away before you could regard his lips anymore. (Were they always this plump when he scowled? And that pink?) You were all too aware of your closeness, given that you hadn’t moved back to your original position in the carriage and had been leaning towards him with the severity of either someone enraged or in love.

Enraged. You were enraged.

“Admit that I persuaded you,” you demanded, unable to keep the play stoicism on your face.

“I will not,” Ciel shook his head, relieved that the carriage was coming to a stop because it gave him an easy reprieve from the conversation at hand. “We need you to confirm the body’s identification. Will you come inside?” The Earl asked, gesturing to the Yard’s station outside the carriage. He reminded you of the meaning behind your excursion: confirming that the body found floating in the River Thames was Janet Fischer or a nameless victim. While there were numerous pictures of Janet, they needed a person to confirm her remains.

“Yes, I can.” Your heart sunk, bringing your joy with it. Your smile melted as you nodded gravely, well aware that there was no need to maintain any pretenses in front of the body. Ciel forced the Yard to clear any non-ranked personnel to avoid conflict with your public appearance versus your intended utility to the case.

Within minutes, you were facing Janet one last time. She was truly perfect— the type of beautiful that belonged between pages of a storybook. Her cheekbones were high, but her cheeks were full; her lips were soft and pink. Her blonde hair fell in wisps, too thick to stay in her bun perfectly. Even in death, her eyelashes were long and curled, kissing her cheeks.

Unlike Amélie, there was little sign of death on her, save for her lack of breathing and the obvious bruise on her temple. Otherwise, there was no foul smell, no bloodshot eyes, or gaping mouth. Janet looked as if she was only napping, her face serene without the deep sadness that used to inhabit it. No one in the company carried the same innocence and melancholia— that was why she was Natasha’s first choice for Odette.

“This is her,” your voice hardly registered above a whisper. “Janet…what happened?” you asked, blinking rapidly to keep tears from falling. You wished she could wake up and tell you. There was nothing you wanted more.

“She was officially reported as missing on the night of September 28th,” Ciel said, his presence somewhat comforting to you. Janet was already dead— there was nothing to be done except to bring her killer to justice and ensure this doesn’t happen to anyone else. “Exactly one day after the last time everyone has claimed to see her— the night of Thursday, September 27th.”

“This wound seems as if it was from a blunt object,” Sebastian noted, peering at the purple bruise on the side of Janet’s right eye. “But she was found near the Tower Bridge, the rest of her wounds consistent with a high fall.”

“Could she have been hit with the object and subsequently pushed?” Ciel wondered, not truly looking for a response from either you or Sebastian. He crossed his arms, searching for answers from Janet’s body.

You battled a fresh wave of nausea.

“The bruise appears to be circular. I believe the object we’re looking for is slightly round — like a hammer, the pommel of a dagger, or even the end of a cane might create this shape of bruise,” the butler continued, the broad number of potential items doing nothing of note.

If the bruise wasn’t leading to anything concrete, you opted to focus on something — anything — else. Janet went missing on a Thursday… Today was Wednesday. William wanted to meet with you on another Thursday. You had full Nutcracker rehearsals on Thursdays and Sundays, but William said that Thursday would work the best because Natasha always stayed at the studio to work with Poppy.

That made Thursdays the ideal day for him to kill someone: Natasha was out of the picture, and the whole cast was exhausted after a full show rehearsal and a showing of Swan Lake.

You stiffened, your head jerking to look at the Earl. He startled at your sudden movement, knitting curious eyebrows together. What is it now, Y/n? He asked without having to speak.

“Ciel, do you have the dates for any of the other disappearances?”

“Sebastian?” Ciel prompted.

“Annalisse Sterling’s last sighting was Thursday, September 14th and Harriet White’s was August 31st, and…” Sebastian continued, as you flipped through a calendar. You ripped off one of the officer’s unoccupied desks. You circled every date Sebastian said until he stopped at Amelie’s disappearance date.

“The majority of disappearances have taken place between these three weekdays,” you declared, showing Ciel and Sebastian the months of circled Thursdays, Fridays, and Sundays. “Look. And these are days where we have full show rehearsals and his wife is thoroughly distracted…it cannot be a coincidence.”

Ciel considered the theory, nodding slowly with perceptible hesitance that you wanted to kick out of him. There was absolutely no basis for him to doubt you! Why did he need to be this stubborn? All of the time? “Is there anyone we can speak to regarding Janet? We have already spoken to her family and Lord Taylor, but—”

“She never had friends,” you shook your head. It was true— Janet always distanced herself from everyone. Even Natasha, who seemed to be the entire company’s older sister. “What did Lord Taylor tell you?”

“He has a solid alibi— hosting a birthday dinner for his niece in Tanglewood. His son’s betrothed,” Ciel said. “The party location puts him too far away from the Tower Bridge at that time, and there is no evidence that Taylor told Janet to meet him there.”

“She had to tell someone that she was going out of her usual way,” you shut your eyes for a moment to organize your thoughts. “Janet was not stupid, she would never leave without notice. Her mother and her brothers relied on her income to live.”

“The mother insisted Janet found a note in her dressing room, but there was no one — and no note — to corroborate that,” Sebastian recalled, as perplexed as you’ve ever seen him. Anyone could have left a note in Janet’s room— the murder had to be premeditated if that was how the killer lured her. They knew to leave it there after the performance and to either dispose of it themself or take it from Janet after killing her. Not only that— they had access to those backstage areas. It needed to be someone who blended in at the opera house, otherwise, the interviewed dancers and stagehands would have noticed a suspicious character.

“Ciel, we need to look into William. He owns the opera house— no one would think anything of seeing him backstage. William knows when rehearsals are, and his wife’s work schedule,” you demanded, wide-eyed. Honestly, if Ciel continued to doubt you, you would suspect he was in the wrong line of work.

“Say it is William,” Ciel pinched the bridge of his nose, “how would we proceed?” He asked flatly, guessing that you had a few ideas.

Your expression wasn’t gleeful. You were unsure what to call it, besides fierce and unyielding. It was forceful, it was serious. A real force of nature would do this. You were going to do this.

“We get a confession, then. Tomorrow night.”

[alwayswriting101]

The Nutcracker (Fanfic)

Hi everyone,

I've been working on a Flora/Helia Christmas/Ballet AU for a while...and even though it's nowhere close to being done I just wanted some thoughts on my prologue chapter to see if this is something people are even interested in or.... not. So here it is! Please provide any thoughts or opinions below. And to give some context this fic is loosely based on Barbies "The Nutcracker" (iconic, I know). Thanks! (And if anyone is willing to beta-read any of my future fics it would be much appreciated)

Ethereal string music projected from the orchestral pit, floating into the rest of the music hall as the prima ballerina danced in perfect time. She was a fairy, floating on the harmonies as her body delicately spun, stretched, and leaped into the air.

The ballerina performed for the hundreds in the audience before her, yet little did she know there was another admirer behind the scenes, watching her every move with bated breath. 

The music began to swell as the trumpets and the woodwinds flourished with the string instruments and choir, so young Flora peered from behind the wings of the stage, very obviously neglecting her duties, to view her favorite part of the performance. The ballerina lept and glided across the stage as Cinderella, somehow looking as delicate as she was powerful—and Flora, selfish as she was, imagined herself on that stage in Cinderella’s place, soaring. It’s all she’s ever wanted,  to dance until her lungs burned, until her legs were numb, but her heart and mind ascending above any amount of pain. She would dance before the world, dance until she died of happiness, and then continue to dance before The Lord and all of His angels, until she was commanded to stop. 

It’s all she’s ever wanted. 

The prince has now joined Cinderella on stage, their partnership enhancing the performance as they skillfully danced together. Flora held her breath as the prince carefully lifted Cinderella above his head, but they together showed no hesitation. It was as if Cinderella belonged there, lifted and admired above the prince’s heart. 

The prince gently placed Cinderella back on the ground, to which she then continued to perform a series of twirls to the offstage wings as the prince began to perform his solo…which was right towards Flora. 

…uh oh. 

Flora quickly rushed deeper into the wing, grabbing her small broom and dustpan, busying herself with sweeping nonexistent dust off the floor, and the ballerina rushed to the wings. The ballerina practically collapsed onto the floor, breathing in gulps of air as if it were water and she was dying of thirst. For a moment, she didn’t even notice the little stowaway hiding in plain sight. 

“Hello,” the ballerina called, “My name is Isla, what’s your name?”

Flora shirked back a couple of steps, “My name is Flora, madam.”

“Flora,” Isla giggled, “And what are you doing here, little Flora, are you lost?”

“No madam,” Flora whispered, “I’m supposed to be cleaning…”

“Cleaning?” Isla raised an eyebrow and looked around the wing, which had been spotlessly cleaned by the adult maids not even two hours ago, “It looks pretty clean to me.”

Flora, hung her head in shame. “I am supposed to be cleaning in the back, with the other girls, but I wanted to see the ballet!” 

Isla couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from her mouth, which became even heartier as Flora blushed heavily. “Well, I can’t blame you…the costumes are really pretty aren’t they?”

“They are so pretty, you look like a princess!” Flora bounced on the balls of her feet as she looked up to Isla, “but I also really like the dancing! I want to be just like you when I grow up!”

“Really,” Flora swore Isla’s eye twinkled like the stars from above. “Well Flora, then here’s something to jump-start your career.” Flora held her breath as Isla slowly reached around her neck, pulling off a silver necklace with a small silver nutcracker on the chain. It glistened as the stage lights reflected off it before Isla placed it on Flora’s neck. “This is my lucky charm…with this necklace, all your dreams will come true.”

“Really?”

Isla never answered, for her cue to return to the stage had arrived. Flora stared from the sidelines as Isla performed a perfect arabesque, and joined her partner on stage. 

Flora looked down at her new necklace. It felt cool against her neck.

(DONE)

So I'm thinking of going for a magical fairytale vibe, where the narrator speaks in these dramatic, overly detailed sentences...but I'm not sure if it's good! 🥲. Please advise.

[barbie-movies-tournament]

Round 1A Results:

Barbie in The Nutcracker VS Barbie: Starlight Adventure

Sorry, Starlight Adventure fans, but Barbie in The Nutcracker hit the ground running and never stopped. The nostalgia factor is strong, but is it enough to get to the top? we'll see!

WINNER: Barbie in The Nutcracker (81.1%, 132 votes)

Barbie and The Three Musketeers VS Barbie in A Mermaid Tale

There were clearly conflicting feelings in the tags of this poll. Mermaid Tale started out strong, but just couldn't hold on to that lead. It was a close competition, but the queen of the waves will not be the queen of this competition.

WINNER: Barbie and The Three Musketeers (53.2%, 171 votes)

Barbie Fairytopia: Mermaidia VS Barbie: Mariposa and the Fairy Princess

Fairy girlfriends may have been able to beat the mermaids in the preliminaries, but this is the main event. Despite a passionate fanbase, Mariposa and the Fairy Princess couldn't overtake the OG Barbie mermaids.

WINNER: Barbie Fairytopia: Mermaidia (72.6%, 146 votes)

Barbie in the 12 Dancing Princesses VS Barbie in the Pink Shoes

Was there ever really a question of who would be prima ballerina?

WINNER: Barbie in the 12 Dancing Princesses (93%, 114 votes)

Barbie as The Princess and The Pauper VS Barbie: Dolphin Magic

Princess and the Pauper fans SHOWED UP for their fav. Dolphin Magic didn't have enough magic to take Princess and the Pauper's place.

WINNER: Barbie as The Princess and The Pauper (94.5%, 200 votes)

Barbie and the Diamond Castle VS Barbie: Princess Charm School

Soooo.... I may have made a mistake and accidentally set this poll for one day instead of one week. Diamond Castle had a clear lead, but this poll got less than half the votes of some of the polls in this round. Should I make a new poll for a week to give Princess Charm School a fair chance? Or should I stick with the shorter poll's results? Lmk in the comments/tags.

WINNER??? Barbie and the Diamond Castle (62.4%, 85 votes)

Barbie: Fairytopia VS Barbie and the Secret Door

Bibble and Elina are fighting HARD in this tournament, and it is paying off. The Secret Door has closed for this competition.

WINNER: Barbie: Fairytopia (86.6%, 142 votes)

Barbie: Mariposa VS Barbie: A Perfect Christmas

Christmas will not be coming in July this year because A Perfect Christmas was not perfect enough to beat out Mariposa.

WINNER: Barbie: Mariposa (94.5%, 110 votes)

Round 1B polls should be out Monday! Keep an eye out for a potential Diamond Castle vs Charm School take 2 poll.

[cantevenbeachhere]

Dear Ken Diary,

So I got to see something pretty cool today.

As you know, Barbie Land has a ballet company called The Dancing Dolls. They’re world renowned; I’m sure you’re aware. They were called The Barbies in the Pink Shoes, but since there’s Kens in the company, the name is under construction. We’ll see if The Dancing Dolls name sticks. I kinda like it.

Anyway! They put on a lot of shows, and they’ve been used in movies like Barbie of Swan Lake and stuff like that. There’s even a Barbie here that looks like the first prima ballerina from a place in the Real World called America. I don’t know how close that is to the state of California, but I don’t know Real World geography. I bet Weird Barbie knows, but I haven’t seen her today. She’s been busy as of late. I don’t know with what though, but she’s been more popular in the, uhhh, the post-patriarchy era of Barbie Land. She seems pretty happy with all she’s doing now. And she’s changed her hair again. She really likes changing her hairstyles, and ya know, she’s a Barbie. That’s totally her right. She likes to keep us on our toes…

How did I get on this topic…uhhhhhh, oh yeah!

Okay so, anyway, The Dancing Dolls. Artist Ken has been very busy painting backdrops for their latest production, and honestly, they couldn’t’ve picked a better person for the job. He’s so good at what he does. I think he’s the happiest when he’s got paint smears all over his face and hands. Sometimes I think he just adds smears for no reason except to make him happy. And he asked me to bring him some stuff from the Mojo Dojo Casa House that he forgot to grab. No big deal I was happy to do it.

And the company was practicing this bit called The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. It was really, really pretty! Although I don’t know who the Sugar Plum Fairy was supposed to be. None of them wore plum colored clothes, and none of them had fairy wings on their costumes. But it was still super pretty!

And they made it snow! IN THE BUILDING! Dude! It was so cool! I really wanted to go up on the stage and make snow angels, and I reeeeeally had to fight myself not to do it.

And lemme tell ya, some of these dancers could bend and twist in ways that honestly probably would make Weird Barbie jealous.

I think I’ll try to go and see the whole production! The music was really good, and the dancing was like totally mesmerizing. I don’t know how they stand on their toes like that all the time. Wouldn’t that hurt? I guess not though since like they’re so cool, and even if they do, Doctor Barbie can fix it in the time it takes to tell them what’s wrong.

I wanna make snow angels. Still. Maybe I’ll make sand angels instead.

I want hot chocolate with marshmallows. I’m gonna go make sand angels then make hot chocolate with marshmallows.

[daimonclub]

Dal Natale del 2005

Auguri di Buona Natale E' vero che a Natale tutti diventano più buoni? La risposta la troverete nel vostro albero di Natale: tutte palle! Walter Di Gemma E’ Natale da fine ottobre. Le lucette si accendono sempre prima, mentre le persone sono sempre più intermittenti. Io vorrei un dicembre a luci spente e con le persone accese. Charles Bukowski Pensiero natalizio farcito con un aforisma biblico. Polvere eravate, e polvere ritornerete. Memento, homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris. Per adesso accontentatevi della merda, e del panettone! Carl William Brown Il Natale serve a ricordare a quelli che sono soli che sono soli, a quelli che non hanno soldi che non hanno soldi, e a quelli che hanno una famiglia del cazzo che hanno una famiglia del cazzo! Charles Bukowski Nella penombra della stanza, riscaldata solamente dal camino, lei si inginocchiò e cominciò a fare ciò che più le piaceva. Lo toccava, lo spostava di continuo stando attenta alle palle. Tuttavia la punta rossa non stava su e lei era insoddisfatta delle dimensioni. Ancora qualche minuto ma non ci fu nulla da fare, nonostante usasse entrambe le mani. Lui la guardò allora impietosito: "Cara, ma perché quest'anno non compriamo un nuovo albero di Natale?". Brancaleone Ok, Ok ... mancano poco più di 7 ore al Natale... e sta giornata non poteva essere peggiore di così. Godzy ha avuto una contrattura muscolare e quindi è tappata in casa, delegando alla sottoscritta TUTTA la spesa natalizia - precisamente i menu del 24,25 e 26 da comprare ex nihilo. E ciò significa file incommensurabili al supermercato, orde di umane genti con le quali fare graziosamente lo slalom tra un "tanti auguri" e un "buon natale" -__- per non parlare della fiumana che si intrattiene per le strade ad osservare le vetrine con sguardo assorto... quasi perso in quella fattispecie di ninnoli perversi che incantano gli acquirenti ogni anno... quegli oggetti, che nel loro inebriante sbrilluccichio sembrano emanare un inevitabile invito suadente: "comprami... comprami... ti starò sul cazzo dopo una settimana ma tu comprami... dai, lo so che mi vuoi. Il consumismo è l'anima del commercio"...

Natale in casa Cupiello Poi ovviamente ci sono i giocattoli che, se guardati attentamente, sembrano prenderti per il culo e dire: "non ho bisogno d'incantarti con facili raggiri... tanto se non mi compri, tuo/a figlio/a ti farà un culo così... piangerà e poi avrà un trauma e da grande ti costerà milioni e milioni in psicanalisi, dicendo ad ogni seduta quanto ti odia e quanto desiderava Barbie-bordello-deluxe e quanto questo abbia intaccato in modo irreversibile la sua carriera di showgirl fallita mantenuta da un ricco industriale di 20 anni più vecchio di lei, col pannolone e la bava! HA-HA. Quindi vai alla cassa velocemente e zitto." Mi chiedo se non sia proprio per questa miriade di voci che precedono inevitabilmente spese folli succhiasangue che la gente ultimamente sia più nervosa ed acida del solito - io non faccio testo, sono acida soltanto a guardarli -. L'altro giorno un conducente di autobus ha sbottato per una semplice domanda di un vecchio: "mi scusi... ma la fermata non era qui?". Ok, i vecchi rompono... però non c'è bisogno di reagire come se t'avesse chiesto quanti peli pubici c'ha tua moglie! Tutto torna secondo la mia teoria della Sindrome Rabbiosa Natalizia. La gente s'incazza per un nonnulla... orde di popoli si precipitano tutte nello stesso posto, allo stesso momento, per comprare lo stesso oggetto, che poi puntualmente si esaurisce e allora scene apocalittiche si profilano all'orizzonte. Sguardi degni del più grande spaghetti western s'incrociano in vista dell'ultima scatola di Balla Ballerina Barbie-Bottana (...che inoltre allittera!) e battaglie all'ultimo sangue stile kill bill s'intravedono tra chi sarà il fortunato ad accaparrarsi l'oggetto tanto raro e prezioso quanto una nocciolina di cacca di un australopiteco fossilizzato. Altro che influenza dei polli, la SRN fa vittime crescenti ogni anno che passa.

Non tutti amano il Natale Quest'anno, la mia cara e gioiosa famigliola ha giocato a rimpiattino fino all'ultimo momento per decidere dove, come e con chi festeggiare il tutto. Si è giocato d'astuzia, si è tentato di risparmiare fino all'ultimo centesimo, togliendo la polpetta dal piatto alle cognate ed alle nuore... scroccando tutto lo scroccabile... Alla fine Godzy - che in quanto a perversa cattiveria ne sa più di mille - (e in questa occasione l'ammiro) ha incastrato tutti nel portare qualcosa da mangiare in uno stesso posto: la lugubre, ragnatelifica, impolverata e dispersa nelle sabbie della lettiera di qualche gatto dell'aldilà - dimora nonnica paterna -. Se riesco a scrostarmi le caccole dal vestito dopo essermi seduta su una qualche sedia lercia, e se sopravvivo al tifo ed alla salmonellosi, vi racconterò il tutto. Pregate per me. Morirò. Cavalla Golosa Se amate il Natale, le feste e la letteratura potete anche leggere i seguenti articoli: Aforismi e citazioni sul Natale Aforismi divertenti sul Natale Barzellette sul Natale La fiaba del pupazzo di neve Aforismi di C.W. Brown sul Natale Pensieri e riflessioni sul Natale Un buon libro per Natale Numeri sul Natale Odio il natale (Umorismo) A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens Other books by Charles Dickens Fairy tales and other stories by Hans Christian Andersen Best Christmas songs videos and karaoke Christmas markets in England Christmas markets in America Christmas markets in Italy and Germany Christmas quotes 60 great Christmas quotes Christmas tree origin and quotes Christmas jokes Christmas cracker jokes Funny Christmas Stories Amusing Christmas stories Christmas food Christmas thoughts Christmas story Christmas in Italy Christmas holidays Christmas songs Christmas poems An Essay on Christmas by Chesterton Read the full article

[swanssparkle]

ᅠᅠ

ᅠᅠᅠ 𝐖E ALREADY KNO𝐖。。。 ᅠᅠ W͜͡E 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑬𝑫 IT LONG AGO ❠

౨ৎ ' 𝓔s melliza de Artem, siendo Artemisa mayor por unos minutos. Aprovecha aquella diferencia de minutos para molestarlo y aunque ella no posea porte intimidante y sea más calmada, está dispuesta a protegerlo de todo; él es la persona que más ama en el mundo.

౨ৎ ' 𝓓esde pequeña inició en el ballet. Su madre la inscribió a clases y a Artemisa le quedó gustando bastante, convirtiéndose así en su sueño llegar a nivel profesional y ser prima ballerina, que eventualmente logró, tanto en academia en Estados Unidos como en la de Corea del Sur, ya que por tiempos vivía junto a su familia en un país y por tiempos en otro.

౨ৎ ' 𝓐prendió a tocar el violín también a corta edad, aunque instrumento es más como un pasatiempo y no inclinado a aspecto profesional. Practicarlo le ayuda en momentos de estrés o para pasar el rato.

౨ৎ ' 𝓛enguas maternas son inglés y coreano. Y aprendió japonés porque le gusta el anime/manga, así que le intereso idioma y no querer necesitar subtítulos o traducciones.

౨ৎ ' 𝓢u anime favorito es One Piece y el amor de su vida es Portgas D. Ace, tiene un obsesión y colección inmensa de él.

౨ৎ ' 𝓛e gusta quedarse viendo el fyp en TikTok, también hacer de éstos y le manda mínimo 30 tiktoks al día a Artem, que si no ve, ella se sienta al lado de él y lo obliga a verlos todos.

౨ৎ ' 𝓐ma Barbie y todo lo que hay sobre la franquicia. Sus películas favoritas son Barbie en el Lago de los Cisnes y Barbie en una Aventura de sirenas. Y sí, también ha hecho que Artem vea todas las películas de barbie con ella.

౨ৎ ' 𝓐 diferencia de su mellizo, Artemisa no está tan involucrada con lo de los casinos. Por supuesto sabe todo lo que allí se maneja y de lo que está encargado hermano, sin embargo, nunca quiso dedicarse nada de aquello, prefirió seguir carrera de bailarina de ballet y familia siempre le permite hacer lo que quiera, así que no hubo ningún problema en mantenerse al margen.

౨ৎ ' 𝓝o sabe cocinar, la cocina y ella son enemigos. Y como buena estadounidense es exagerada con la cantidad de los ingredientes siendo empalagoso.

౨ৎ ' 𝓔s social, amable, energética y de buen corazón. Parte mimada y caprichosa es únicamente con familia, especialmente con su mellizo, ya que siempre la trataron/tratan como la princesa de la familia.

౨ৎ ' 𝓝o se escandaliza por las cosas turbias que pasan en el negocio familiar, creció en un buen ambiente pero también conociendo mundo bajo, así que no le asusta nada de eso.

౨ৎ ' 𝓟adece de claustrofobia por un evento en el pasado, su mente ha bloqueado parte de los recuerdos, pero el miedo reside allí a pesar de todo. Para subirse a ascensores debe estar acompañada de alguien de quien tenga confianza o de lo contrario no es capaz, prefiere usar escaleras.

[haylanmakesstuff]

New Barbie inspired Jewelry

Up on Etsy today; lots of Barbie, pastel goth inspired jewelry I made. Find me on Etsy at www.etsy.com/shop/HaylanMakesStuff and on Instagram @HaylanMakesStuff. 

“The Ultimate Barbie” tiered necklace. 

“The Dena” shoe necklace. 

“Prima Ballerina” ballet slipper necklace

“Tassel Hassle” clip on earrings (also a matching necklace in the shop!)

Up close of “The Trixie” necklace (matching earrings available for this one!)

[themakeupbrush]

Cannes 2022 Fashion Favorites: Part 2

Click here for part 1

We’ve made it to the end, so now it’s time for the round up! These favorites are in no particular order, and are based on the overall look (dress, hair, makeup, accessories, etc). I did separate posts on best jewelry which you can find here and here

Deepika Padukone in Sabyasachi 

One of the first looks from the festival, Deepika wore this as her opening ceremony outfit as a member of the festival jury. I was hoping to see a sari on the red carpet this year, and we got it night one! It’s beautiful, and the jewelry really takes the regality to another level. 

Nidhi Sunil in Manish Malhotra

I know I said I was judging overall looks, but this skirt is so amazing it’s really the whole look to me. Apparently the skirt took over 450 hours of labor to create, and it really shows. 

Jessica Michel Serfaty in Nicolas Jebran

This so easily could have been a mess, but it wasn’t. There’s so much going on between the overskirt, pattern, plunging neckline, necklace, and hood, but they all somehow come together. The other nice thing about a dress like this is it gives her a million ways to pose for a dramatic red carpet shot. 

Coco Rocha in vintage Galliano

Of course Coco made the best dressed list. This feels like a ballerina, Black Swan fantasy look, complete with a prima ballerina tiara and stage makeup. On anyone else, a look this theatrical would look a little ridiculous, but she’s Coco Rocha. 

Coco Rocha in Iris van Herpen

Speaking of Coco and the theatrical, here’s her second look on this list, and actually the only amfAR look to make it to my favorites. Not everyone can pull off an Iris van Herpen design, let alone make it look effortless and natural, but again, she’s Coco Rocha. 

Marina Ruy Barbosa in Valentino

This look, as well as the remainder of the ones on this list, is more of a “love the overall vibe” situation. The dress is very pretty, but on it’s own it wouldn’t be as standout. The hair is really what makes it. I swear it’s glowing. 

Frida Aasen in Elie Saab

She looks like an old-school barbie doll. The red dress/red lip combo is beautiful on her, and I’m in love with the back necklace with a backless dress. Back and hair jewelry are such underrated ways to incorporate more jewelry. 

Shakira in Mônot

If Shakira makes an appearance, I’m including Shakira on my favorites list. It’s very simple. Beyond my obvious bias, she looks incredible. The dress is so insanely simple, which just emphasizes how gorgeous she is. I feel like we never really get to see Shakira glammed up for a black tie carpet, usually if it’s a red carpet event she’s in cocktail/club attire. I still don’t know how she managed to make those sheer gloves look classy. 

Anne Hathaway in Armani

This to me is the epitome of the woman wearing the dress, rather than it wearing her. On most other people, I don’t know that I would have really looked twice at this, really the only standout thing is the sleeve/bow/train thing going on in the back, which is lovely. But she, along with that necklace, make this look noteworthy and memorable. 

Click here for Part 3

[gamerbearmira]

A rant about how much I love Ballet

I've never expressed how much I love ballet. Like, I always wanted to do it when I was little (couldn't afford it though--closest I got to an extra curriculum activity was choir and playing the recorder.). But I love ballet.

I go on youtube and just. Watch recorded shows. The way the prima ballerinas spin in stage is so beautiful and graceful. And I love The Nutcracker, its probably my favorite. I actually enjoy The Nutcracker and the 4 Realms too. But around Christmas, I always try to watch The Nutcracker when I can. I've actually made an AU with that ballet; One for my ocs and one for Encanto, but I doubt I'll ever showcase them here lol.

And then Swan Lake??? Made an Encanto and OC AND Jojo (Phantom Blood) AU. Bro, I love it. Whenever I downloaded Barbie movies, I would always watch the Swan Lake one (along with The Mermaid and Fairy one.) I love Odette and Odile's costumes, they're so beautiful.

Also men in ballet??? Its so amazing to see how gracefully they can move while still portraying their characters. Its just. Wow. Just wow.

I have concluded my rant on how much I love ballet.

TL;DR: I love Ballet.