Dancing

[hellboi]

Dancing Meme👑

Dancing well takes serious skill and talent, but just about anyone can shake their hips or tap their feet to a beat. No matter your competency in cutting the rug, there's some pleasure to be found in letting loose and moving your body to the music. Not to mention... sometimes it's fun to get all dressed up! (And if not, then perhaps in seeing a partner all dressed up?)

So, let your cares go and let's dance!


Prompts

1. prom
It's the biggest social event of the year - provided you're still in high school! Do you have the guts to ask your crush to the dance, or are you more the shy wallflower type? How about a platonic date with your bestie?

2. ballroom
Ah, the formal gala: it's prom for adults! Dress in your finest and get yourself a partner for a tango or a waltz. It's for charity, after all.

3. alone
Do a little jig in the kitchen, or enjoy a living room slowdance with a significant other to the dulcet tones of your smart speaker.

4. club
You're hitting the clubs and you're ready to grind! What better place to meet new people who know how to have fun?

5. competition
You take dance very seriously. Like, competition-level seriously. Practice with a partner, or face off against a rival.

6. traditional
Let me show you the dance of my people, from the village-wide revelry of a summertime bon odori to the sensual swing of the hula.

7. adult
Some dances are For Adult Eyes Only. And yes, poles and laps may be involved.

8. wildcard
Anything goes!

[ Get Memes! ]

Comments

Jamie Waller | original

[seemssopleasing]

[[He will dance Anywhere, Anytime. Bio & preferences. M/M for shippy things, but super open to anyone for gen.]]

The Swede | Our Flag Means Death | OTA

[ourlittlenordicangel]

O-oh... I can't dance.

Clark Kent (Superman) | My Adventures with Superman | OTA

[anormalman]

2

[roseeclair]

[Some days, it really pays to be sister-in-arms with a world-famous violinist and her partner-slash-accompanist. Michiru Kaiou is one of the headline performers for Metropolis's latest charity gala, and managed to swing a few invitations for the rest of their group, so a flock of young collegiate ladies are mingling among the city's finest, featuring one Makoto Kino. Decked out in a new dress, Makoto's been having a great time chatting with the girls and sampling the canapes (and maybe taking notes for future recipes)... but she hasn't been able to find any partners for the dances yet, most of the men here either too old for her tastes or gravitating towards richer- or maybe just shorter- girls.

But then her eyes wander back to the refreshments table and... oh. If she's not wrong, that's the guy whose jogging route crosses paths with hers, the one she's WAY too tongue-tied to talk to. And he's here, wearing a simple but still well-cut suit, and... damn. Welp, time to hastily excuse herself from the girls (who just smirk, they know where her mind's at) and briskly walk over before he disappears or gets snatched up or she chickens out.]

Uh... hi. Having a good time?

[anormalman]

[The evening had started out alright for Clark. He'd gotten his old chess club tux drycleaned in time for the event, and he'd managed to secure an interview with a certain Michiru Kaioh like Perry had asked him to. But now that he's done what he'd been assigned, he feels a bit lost. As fancy as this gala is, it still reminds him of all the middle school and high school dances he'd been a wallflower at in Smallville, because he couldn't bring himself to ask someone to dance with how much he'd distanced himself from others by that point.

Luckily, he's taken out of being too wrapped up in his own head when Makoto approaches him. He's seen her before while out jogging, but he hasn't had a chance to talk to her yet, and he didn't think he'd see her at an event like this.]

Oh! Um, I suppose so. I'm mainly here for work, but...the refreshments are good. [Smooth as usual.]

[roseeclair]

[A soft laugh, more out of her own nervousness than laughing at him.]

Yeah, yeah they are. I wouldn't have thought of pomegranate arils with scallops, but it actually works really well. [Wait, no, focus, squee about food later!] I mean... what kind of work do you do?

[anormalman]

I'm a reporter for the Daily Planet. [Which he can actually say with some conviction now that he's no longer just an intern.]

Um...correct me if I'm wrong, but have we met before? I think I've seen you while out jogging.

1/2

[roseeclair]

Wait, you remember me?

Rebecca Bluegarden | Edens Zero | M/F

[catleaping]

junpei tenmyouji | zero escape | m/f

[grumpei]

mion sonozaki | higurashi no naku koro ni

[penalizing]

chiaki nanami | super dangan ronpa 2 | m/f

[cheatcoded]

kiritsugu emiya ( fate/zero )

[originbullets]

( m/f for shippy things, ota for gen. )

dolph laserhawk | captain laserhawk

[laserhawk]

( m/m, 20+. ota for gen )

nilou ( genshin impact )

[xpadisarah]

[ This is her type of meme. ]

Grand Admiral Thrawn | Star Wars | OTA

[admiralchiss]

[M/M for shipping]

Anders | Dragon Age | OTA

[rebelhealer]

[M/M for shipping]

Chrissy Cunningham — Stranger Things

[ephemerios]

margaery tyrell | asoiaf/got | ota

[neverbedded]

(Darth) Maul | Star Wars

[survivalthroughhate]

[He's never really danced before but fighting is just like dancing, only with killing the other person at the end of the steps.....right?]

aedan trevelyan | dragon age inquisition | ota

[firstimpression]

for @chaotictide

[firstimpression]

[ Oh Gods he hated formal affairs. The moment they entered the lavish ballroom with it's extravagantly high ceilings and glittering chandeliers, musicians gathered upon a raised platform while dancers were already twirling along the marble floor, the haughty tones of shallow conversation filtering in from left and right... he wanted to immediately turn back the way they'd came.

Everything about this setting was uncomfortably familiar. A reminder of of his past he thought he'd be ready to face without it tearing at a part of him deep within; but apparently not. Apparently no amount of time could dull certain emotions. He'd suspected that, of course. But foolishly, he had hoped the impulse to run would not be so ever pressing.

The only thing keeping him from doing so is Tav's grounding presence beside him, and the agreement he'd come to with the Harpers - he'd never, in all his years of being involved with the guild, failed to deliver upon an assignment. He was not about to start now.

While technically this was a task that Aedan could have done alone, he'd asked Tav to join him. He wanted him there for reasons he wasn't really sure he could give voice to, even in his thoughts just yet; but when he's asked and Tav said yes, an immediate feeling of relief washed over him. As well as that damned flutter his heart seemed intent to occasionally do around Tav, just to remind him of what he was avoiding thinking about.

And now, as they stand near the entrance while a variety of individuals and couples filter in alongside them, Aedan glances over at Tav looking incredibly striking in his ornate attire, and manages a small smile in spite of his discomfort. Scanning him from head to toe, his keen gaze not missing a single detail; he reaches up to smooth out the edge of one side of Tav's collar. ]

They're absolutely ridiculous about appearances. One tiny speck of lint and you might as well be a goblin in their eyes. [ Said with a teasing lilt to his tone as he removes said speck of lint from Tav's shoulder. He resists the urge to tug at his own restrictively tight collar as his gaze moves back across the expansive ballroom. While they're both wearing the required 'theme colors' (he had groaned every time he'd had to call it that when they were getting dressed earlier) of dark blue, black, and silver accents; Aedan's attire is finely tailored to his form in a way that his typical leathers and linens simply are not - because he hates clothing like this. It feels like he's too bound up to even move properly. And as a rogue, it's hardly beneficial, though blending in was the greater necessity. He'll just have to ignore it as best as he can for the night, until their task is done and he's retrieved the information he came here for - seeking out the true sources of this family's stockpile of wealth. Suspiciously acquired in a very short amount of time. Which was rarely a good sign. And tonight was a clear and flagrant display of flaunting that wealth, not that anyone particularly cared - if they wanted to scheme and gossip and be vapid, fine by Aedan, so long as they didn't take much notice of him. ]

Do you know any formal dances? [ He asks, offering his forearm to Tav as he leads them into the fray, heading first for the table of refreshments with a practiced ease to his movements and impeccable posture for all that he's sure Tav can see on his expression that he's less than entirely comfortable. They'd had so little time to discuss or prepare for the evening's event; once the Harper's had supplied them both with their outfits it was basically 'good luck, don't screw it up'. ]

[chaotictide]

[On Tav's side of things, all had been the opposite. The idea of crashing a stately ball had been something that had struck him as fun- if not for the opportunity to get free food and drink, then for the fact that deceiving and tricking their way into the residence proper had a thrill which didn't come all too often. Breaking their way into abandoned dungeons lost to time was one thing. But a living, breathing high house- with all manner of ways to get caught? Quite another.

All was fun and all was games until he had been presented with his attire, something which... decidedly was far too elven a thing for him. He was no stranger to robes, no. If anything, it was a small mercy that he was not crammed into the tight britches, waistcoat, cane and ridiculous high collar that cuts into his chin (With an actual cape! Precious!) Aedan was forced to endure. But truly, the Harper's choice of attire for him, though it matched the colour scheme quite well, and was certainly fine enough to denote unspeakable wealth, was...

Well, uncomfortable. In more ways than one. He hadn't been dressed this way since he was a child, for a start. Yet regardless, he is here- very much the picture of Elven elegance (even if his human side was sorely underrepresented enough to make him feel as though he was in costume) and drawing quite a few glances and whispers as Aedan dislodges the lint from his shoulder- and all indication that the garment had been in storage for quite a long time.

He does note Aedan's discomfort. Had from the moment the Harpers had gave him the job- took stock of it while they had both changed, surveyed it throughout the entirety of their carriage ride here, even while the Harpers that rode with them, the Harper coachmaster- had gone through all of their contingency plans, what to do if they were discovered, where a cache of weapons lay in the servants quarters just in case things went really south, a rendezvous place for when the task was complete- Aedan had seemed somewhat distracted. Almost in a world of his own.

He had assumed the opposite. That Aedan was simply staying focused. That perhaps something the Harpers had said privately to Aedan, some detail about this task which was not for Tav's ears, had set the wheels in the rogue's head to turning, and that he was quietly seething underneath a mask of quiet, distant calm.]

Really? I had intended to do that by pulling the lords and ladies here into a game of Orcish Toast.

[He is kidding, of course. To reference such a base drinking game- of making insulting toasts about everyone else in the room (and their mothers), let alone insinuating it was something he would do.

Yet there it is, that unease again. Even if Aedan, as ever, had opened with humour, even if he is attentive and quite sweet as he deals with a particular crease on his high collar, and holds out his forearm for the sorcerer to link his arm around- there seems to be an edge underneath it. A quiet, rumbling unease that made his own reservations seem like nothing.

He walks to the table with him, tilting his head toward him as his hand moves across the table, plucking a red grape from a vine brimming with them, holding the thing between thumb and forefinger, and guiding it to the other's lips.]

I do not. Though I think I can follow along adequately enough.

[firstimpression]

[ Tav's humor is, as usual, appreciated. Especially as it helps temporarily ease some of the discomfort Aedan is experiencing being in this environment. As much as he'd rather be elsewhere (preferably back at their rented room), Tav's suggestion to treat the wealthy and snobbish elite to a game of Orcish Toast has him grinning with amusement. The typical carefree spark is absent in his eyes, but his smile is still genuine. He chuckles to himself as he thinks that if they both got enough wine in the guests such a game might just be possible, purely because they'd be too drunk to know they were even being mocked. Though it would require a lot of wine. So much so that he's pretty sure everyone would end the night passed out flat on their fancy and uncomfortable marble floors. Which would be quite the sight. But, he reminds himself internally, not why they're here. Embarrassing the nobles will have to wait for another day. Today he's just here to steal from them. Oh, and gather information. ]

It's not too difficult. I'll lead, you just do your best not to step on my toes, and I'll do my best to refrain from yelping too loudly when you inevitably do step on my toes. [ He teases, followed by taking the grape that's offered to him and following it up with a press of a kiss against Tav's fingertips in the process because he can't help but sneak in a bit of affection even in the slightest of gestures. ]

This, however, will make things a lot easier. Let's both get a drink in us, to better tolerate the crowd. [ He gestures toward the various offerings of wine, scanning each label with a practiced eye until he comes across one in a dark red tinted bottle - a very expensive, very delicious vintage that he's not seen nor had a taste of in years. The faintest remnants of nostalgia pass over his features for a moment as he holds it in his hands, turning it over slightly to feel the edges of the label, the thickness of the glass a marker of it's steep price and high quality. ]

Antivan Red. [ He states, while pouring the rich, dark, and fragrant wine into two separate glasses; handing one out to Tav first, then holding his glass up in a toast. ] To... making new friends. [ He'd been about to say something far more overtly lewd, when in the moment a young couple had wandered over to browse the table's offerings and Aedan decided that was not the best moment to toast to Tav's ornate and elegant robe that he would absolutely be tearing off later with little regard for it's finery. With the way his eyes travel across Tav's form however, it shouldn't be too difficult to intuit. ]

How do you like it? [ He asks after taking a modest sip from his own glass. It's quite potent wine, for all that it tastes sweeter than honey while not being the slightest bit cloying. A wine meant to be savored, truly. His gaze wanders the room covertly, splitting his focus between Tav and the people coming and going - the exits, the staircases, the halls. Mapping out the room and committing it all to memory the way he would any place he needed to exploit for resources or information. ]

[chaotictide]

[Oh, that is a lovely thought. This collection of eccentric, spoiled, venal and so very staggeringly rich Waterdhavian nobility passed out after letting their impeccably coiffed hair down in a series of alehouse games- their pockets likely all the lighter for their experience. And that, really, was one way of finding the information they sought. As Aedan grins, he cannot help but smile his own smile at him of agreement, incredibly bright eyes all but dancing at the sight of the beautifully attired rogue finding his first bit of amusement in the night.

And then he loses himself, just a little. To him, Aedan was a vision- even in his usually nondescript attire of plain clothes and armour, worn purely for the purpose of blending in. Yet here, in this light, in splendidly tailored (though uncomfortable) clothes, with a clean face and dare he even think it- a fresh shave- he looks so very handsome. Gallant, even. Almost as if he was born for this role, this part when Tav felt like nothing but an imposter.

Perhaps someone with more insight would have thought about it further. Would have noticed the way that Aedan's posture had changed so perfectly. How he walks, and stands, like a man who had experienced years of training. How he seems to know this bottle from so many others that appear just like it- even how his sharp eyes soften with the faintest look of fondness as he reads the label. Yet he does not. He had no such insight, after all. Tav was a man who was intelligent. Remarkably so- He possessed a quickness that certainly wasn't commonplace. He had a wealth of information, concepts, theories, that certainly weren't well-known, and a hunger for understanding that rivalled a wizard's. But insight? The more common side of intellect? Absolutely not. For all of his learning and his desire to learn, all of his quickness, and all of his intelligence, he was as good as a fool in terms of perception.

Yet even then, even if he had powers far beyond his capability, he would not have noticed. For he was too preoccupied with gazing at Aedan's face- at lowering his eyelashes and visiting upon him a gaze that was the epitome of coquettish as he takes the offered grape from between his finger and his thumb, his mind turning to meeting his lips as his fingertips are kissed- but settling for pressing each of his digits to the side of Aedan's jaw shortly after they are touched, one by one, by one- as if he is kissing him back with them- gently. Softly. Tenderly.

But yes, a drink. He does have to cast his mind back to something he had read long ago, illustrating the realms beyond the Sea of Swords. The Principality of Antiva- known for exquisite coffee, wine- fine weaving, and silks in colours previously thought unimaginable. Even Baldur's Gate itself coveted imported goods from Antiva. Judging by the wine here, The Crown of the North was no different when it came to what the elite wanted.

...That, and the House of Crows. Yes. That particular guild of assassins had been mentioned in great detail. As well they should have, given their reputation.]

To new friends. And to...

[Ah, he spies that look. His smile turns somewhat sultry, as the intensity of Aedan's appraisal washes over him, incredibly, just that look and the unspoken promise it provides going straight to his his loins. He averts his gaze, flicking it away in a (playfully) shy manner, the smirk twisting at the corner of his mouth and the little laugh that leaves him anything but coy.]

...To what is to come.

[His eyes move back to Aedan, and he takes his own drink. Just about the same amount (as he was watching how much seemed appropriate to take from Aedan) but... there was no hiding the fact that he was quite used to plonk. Instead of being tasted and savoured, the wine is swallowed immediately- and his eyebrows do furrow slightly when no acrid, vinegary aftertaste presents itself. Instead, there is a faint sweetness. Black cherries, peppers, and a faint ...spice?

The moment he is about to comment, they are approached. A couple, apparently, has made a beeline for them. Two humans, it would seem. Each wearing giant, poofy white-powdered wigs which are almost as tall as their bodies- decorated with all manner of things. Pearls. Silken roses. Hells- a 1/50 scaled ship proudly stands at the forefront of the woman's head of (purchased) hair. Their attire, is of course, Waterdhavan. The woman's dress is a diaphanous gown of silk and sequins, her upper body enshrouded in jewels, her skin itself covered in glued-on gold dust. The man wears knee-high boots and tights which show off the shape of his well-defined legs, with a jacket which... truly, appears as though it took an entire lifetime to embroider. His ruffle is... quite frankly, staggering- almost as large as his torso itself.

Upon his belt is a crest of three daggers. A green gauntlet, four white skulls, a gold half-shield, a white book, and a quill pen. House Estelmer, apparently. A very noble family, possessive of a villa within the North Ward, which took up an entire city block. And if Tav remembered correctly...]

I say, [the man booms, with foppish confidence.] I've not seen either of you at any of the festivals this year! Not Wintershield, Midwinter, The Grand Revel, Fey Day- [With that, his gaze moves to Tav. And the woman titters.] Fleetswake, Waukeentide, or Greengrass!

[His eyes survey the both of them. And Aedan should be certain he is probing. Good-naturedly, of course. Yet still, probing.]

Do tell us! Are you new to our fair city? Visiting relatives, perchance? Or here to drink the wonders of the Crown of the North?