eleven dancing

What if

The swimming club from Free!
The basket club from Kuroko no Basket
The volley ball from Haikyuu
The SKET DANCE from Sket dance
The baseball club from Ace no Diamond
The soccer club from Inazuma eleven
The American football club from Eyeshield 21 
The tenis club from The Prince of tenis
The Kurata club form Chihayafuru

- Were all clubs in the same school.

Basement Ball

It had taken three hours. He’d sacrificed crucial campaign time for this, but to Mike, it was totally worth it. As he stepped away from the light blue sheet draped on the basement wall, he felt satisfaction grip him.

It didn’t look too great; the snowflakes were choppily cut and some didn’t even have glitter (also two had fallen, he kicked those under the sofa), and there was no music just yet — it wasn’t even December.

But there was space. And their friends wouldn’t be by because they were busy at the Palace. It was the perfect time to do this. To make it up to her.

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Preferences: The Doctor Dances

Requested by… um… I honestly don’t remember who requested this, sorry.

How the Doctor dances with you…

The Ninth Doctor isn’t big on dancing, but he tries. It’s not that he doesn’t like to, because he does, but he’s not too sure of his own abilities. He knows that he used to be able to dance, but this body is a bit more… well, just a bit bigger than his other bodies were, and he doesn’t think that it’s too conducive to dancing. And, in a way, he’s right. He’ll never be as graceful as most of he’s other bodies were, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t dance. If he wants to, he will, and if it means dancing with you, he definitely wants to. You’ll just have to help him remember how it’s done.

The Tenth Doctor has his love for seventies music, but as far as dancing goes, he usually prefers something a little more traditional. Although, traditional doesn’t mean traditional in the human sense. The Doctor has introduced you to alien versions of ballroom dancing, and trust me, it’s a lot more fun than the human version. You don’t have to ask the Doctor for a dance; he’s the one who drags you out. You’re pretty sure he has a thing for seeing you in fairy-tale ball gowns that are all the fashion in places he takes you, but he says it’s the banana cocktails, because for goodness sakes it’s a banana cocktail. Now, don’t let the Doctor keep you out too late, because if you let him, he’ll be dancing sunset to sunrise.

The Eleventh Doctor dances with you like a little kid. Or maybe just a soppy teenager. He twirls you around and skips and spins in a dance that has no exact steps or rules, to any light-hearted music that has a good beat. It usually calls for some serious effort on your part to survive the ordeal, since Eleven’s coordination isn’t best, on top of the fact that sometimes you get jerked around a little bit. But he likes to do the dips, even if the music you’re dancing to isn’t really meant for those moves. But the second the music starts, he’s ready to dance, so be prepared.

The Twelfth Doctor is a bit like Eleven in that he dances without rules or regulations, but he’s not nearly as likely to step on your toes, so there’s that. He likes to mesh together old dances with new ones. He’s managed to morph the waltz into something that seems more like it should be danced to with rock n’ roll (which, thankfully, is his specialty). It takes a little cajoling to get Twelve to dance. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, because he loves dancing, but teasing him into the mood for a dance is sort of a tradition. One might consider it dance-foreplay. Or whatever. He’s happy to dance, if you can find the time. 

“What are those?” Eleven asked, looking at the bundle of dark red flowers in Jonathan’s hands. 

“These?” he held them out to let her look closer, “They’re roses. A special kind of flower for Valentine’s Day.” 

“Why are they special?” Eleven tentatively brushed a fingertip against the soft petals of one of the roses. 

“Because you get them for a girl you really like, the way I really like Nancy.”

“Love.” It was a statement, not a question. Eleven may not have been the best at speaking, but she was certainly good at feeling. Jonathan’s cheeks turned almost as red as the roses in his hand. 

“Yeah,” he ran his fingers through his messy hair, “I guess so.” 

“Pretty,” Eleven smiled. Jonathan reached into the bouquet and plucked one out, handing it to her. 

“Careful,” he said, “Sometimes the stems have thorns.” 

“But they’re not for me,” Eleven hesitated, her hand hovering over the stem.

“This one can be,” Jonathan assured her, “Like you said, they’re for girls you love. And I love you like you’re my little sister.”

An excerpt from a Valentine’s Day fic I wrote a while back. 

Imagine Hawkins Middle School holding an annual Father-Daughter dance and Eleven proudly insisting that Hopper go with her. Now imagine Hopper in a nicely pressed suit and El in a fancy dress she picked herself out as they waltz together in the school auditorium, just like they practiced so many weeks before with Eleven’s feet resting on Hop’s to learn the rhythm 

“Another Dance” - Digital Oil Painting

Another Doctor, another dance. Rose loves it when the Doctor dresses up with her for time travel adventures.

This is NOT a Photoshop filter, every stroke is painted by me.

Sometimes, when Hopper’s still at work and Eleven has the house to herself, she digs through all the dirty laundry and forgotten memories in Hop’s closet to reveal the ancient, disintegrating cardboard box at the bottom where all the records are kept inside. She peruses his collection with care, pawing through colorful albums and familiar artists, and retrieves a few of her favorites—an all-encompassing variety of music with rock ‘n’ roll and new wave and classical, just to name a few. Carefully stepping back to the living room with the precariously leaning tower of records in her arms, El hefts them down onto the coffee table and muses over which one she’ll play first. Eleven always admires the vinyl before placing it onto the record player, forever in awe of how something so deceivingly simple can bring such powerful feelings of warmth and joy and butterflies in her chest. As the tracks begin to play, she lets herself be absorbed by the music and practices her dance movies with grace. She’s never embarrassed or frantic if Hopper comes home early to his waffle-loving kid twirling in the middle of the living room in time to the music, and her smile could brighten the darkest of universes when he takes her hand and joins the dance. Eleven hasn’t told Mike about her secret paradise, though…but someday, when she’s confident enough, they’ll practice together


If you haven’t watched the new music video for Sigma’s latest single yet, there’s a wealth of reasons to do so immediately. First of all, the London production/DJ duo imbibed Find Me with a spectacular amount of sweeping power and stunning beauty. Secondly, Find Me features singer songwriter Birdy whose emotive stirring voice is like dazzling fireworks in this heart rending explosion of symphonic drum and bass. And last but certainly not least, the music video for Find Me stars Millie Bobby Brown, the 12 year old actress many know and love as Eleven from Stranger Things. So yes, feast your eyes and ears on the pure rhapsody that is Find Me.

At this point, I’d be okay with a Mileven reunion that has them sitting in the basement listening to the RADIO and I’d be happy. Snowball or no Snowball. Both would be fine. I… I just want them back together, okay? Happy and safe and together. And Mike showing Eleven how to dance while they’re listening to the radio and Karen opening the basement door to tell Mike that it’s fifteen after but seeing the two of them giggling and concentrating so hard on each other’s feet (and faces, when the other isn’t looking) as they stumble through the steps and just being adorable that she soundlessly shuts the door and decides to give them at least a few more minutes. That’s all I want. That’s all I want, guys.


On the twelfth day of Christmas, Studio Ghibli gave to me twelve ohmu’s a'singing

Mileven at the Snow Ball (Big Fic)

By Strangerthingsaus

(disclaimer: I never write stories, I know nothing about how to do this, please forgive me)

Mike looked at his watch to see 5:34pm on the screen. He was sitting at home on the couch, his knee jumping up and down quickly from nerves. This was it, the night he hoped for and dreamed of for months. His suit felt like it was suffocating him as his nerves kept growing the more the minutes went by. He looked over to see his father on his La-Z-boy passed out with the newspaper on his chest. That’s all his dad ever seemed to do lately, just sleep and ignore all that had happened to the boys and especially El. He looked back down at his watch, 5:37pm. Three minutes left.

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