#cctv music video

[goodgarbs]

Music| "Hello Miss Johnson" by Jack Harlow Is His Smooth Return w/ Single and Video

Since releasing his 2023 hit “Lovin on Me“, Jack Harlow has been fairly silent but has decided to return with a smooth addition to his already amazing catalog. Utilizing CCTV surveillance scenes, Jack presents a love interest themed visual set in a suburban neighborhood. Dubbed “Hello Miss Johnson“, the new record places the Generation Now/Atlantic Records artists back in focus. The video for…

[circeyoru]

Nightmare Catcher = Requested

[Alastor | Vox | Lucifer x Nightmare!Reader] - separate

The Request

Alastor, The Radio Demon

Alastor’s a light sleeper or he doesn’t sleep. You do and he doesn’t find fault in that. He’d sit on his side of the bed with a book in hand or some times he’ll be writing in a notebook gifted by you for some broadcasting ideas, all while the his bedstand’s lamp is on at the lowest possible lighting

He’s notice you groaning and shifting in your sleep. The shifting was normal, but not the groaning and the way your face crunched up in distress. His eyes turn to you and observes for a while before muttering soft, “Dear? My darling?”

You don’t reply but the groaning and shifting continues

Now that he’s positive you’re having a nightmare, he’ll try to wake you up as gently as possible to not freak you out too much. Probably nudging you or shaking you awake

If you wake up, like snap awake, he’ll apologize for waking you and explain you were groaning and shifting more than usual. He doesn’t ask if you have a nightmare, he’ll let you say it to him. Either way, he’ll reassure you the same. Whatever you dreamed wouldn’t happen to you. Whoever was trying to cause you harm wouldn’t be able to come near you. 

He’ll be there to protect you 

If you don’t wake up, he’ll put away his stuff and lay down next to you, turning off the lights. As gently and smoothly as he could, he’ll wrap his arms around your waist and hold you close to him. Adjusting you so you’d be listening to his heartbeat while his hand patted the back of your head

His humming calms you down and you unconsciously latch onto him too

When you wake up the next day, neither of you will talk about it unless you bring it up. Otherwise, Alastor will comment how he had another lovely night with you and the two of you would make breakfast together

Vox, The TV Demon

Here’s a question. How do you sleep with a demon with a TV for a head?

Funny thing. Vox doesn’t sleep on a bed, he sits in a very very comfortable giant chair without any hard surfaces and sleeps like that

Now you don’t do that. Nope. You sleep on the bed

So when you have a nightmare? You wake up in a cold sweat and looked around. You got your barings hugging a pillow and wrapped your blanket around you for comfort. You mutter Vox’s name, hoping he hears you somewhere since you didn’t know if he was awake or asleep

If he was awake, he’d catch your name calling and zap through the technology to your room. “What’s wrong? There an intruder?”

You hug onto him, still wrapped up but your pillow was discarded. While he hates dealing with childish acts (Valentino), you were an exception

He brings you back to the bed and has you comfortable before asking what’s wrong. Whether you tell him or not, he plays you funny videos on his TV screen to lighten you up or music to calm you down until your eyes get droopy and you yawn. He stays by your side until you sleep, he silently works beside you though

If he was asleep. Haha. Good luck. Oh, not you, it’s Vox. If it’s one thing he doesn’t like people seeing it was his sleeping form. Because he shuts down, with a black screen and all that. He has like a fixed schedule set to wake up after shutting down

Still, he gave you a special code to his quarters when you need to come. You wrapped up in your blanket and hugging your pillow tip-toed to Vox’s room. On the way, you’d be debate whether to go or not. You went

You poked his screen first, he doesn’t wake up. His chair was big and comfty, matching that of a bed’s. So you got comfortable on Vox’s lap, leaning on his chest with your ears on top of where his heart would be, your pillow on the armrest to cushion your back then you covered the both of you in the giant blanket

You kissed the side of his face (screen) and said night. Slowly falling asleep

Next day, Vox thought Valentino or Velvette played a prank on him. Imagine his surprise to find you on his lap peacefully asleep. He checked last night’s CCTV to make sure you weren’t in danger, just a nightmare, he bets

But he delays his schedules and shows just to enjoy you on his lap

(a full day of work was gone and Vox got a vacation from taking care of Valentino)

Lucifer, The King of Hell

I swear he’s the one with nightmares- But this time it was you with the nightmares

He immediately stirs when you shift too much, even getting warmer to the point that he felt like he was hugging a heater. He wake up and notice immediately you’re having a nightmare

He copies what you do for him. Wake you up gently and holds your cheeks so you’d be focusing on him. “Look at me, My Apple. You’re safe with me.”

He leads you to do a breathing exercise with him, when you were done and more calm, his forehead connects with yours. He asks if you want to talk about, since he felt better when you listened to him, he offers the same to you

You nodded

Lucifer immediately starts snapping his fingers, conjuring so much familiar objects and items. They were all your favourites. From comfort items, entertainment, food and even drinks. He spared no expenses for you

His goofy attitude lightened you up and you almost forget about the nightmare. Still though, you tell him

Midway, he summons his wings and wrap you around with them, a comforting reminder that he was there with you. You comb your hands through his wings, even leaning against them with a comforted sigh

Lucifer laid you back down, this time with his wings as the blanket and his chest as the pillow. He sings softly to lull you to sleep, humming after you were sleeping until he was positive you were dead asleep, then he’ll sleep

Next morning? He surprises you with a day at his Lu Lu Land. He’s such a goof ball you can’t resist him

Note: Ha! There! How you like this? Next try on Vox actually. Surprised I got more to write for him than I imagine. I thought he'd have the least content

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland

@crowleysthings

@donustellaron

[borathae]

hey! i don't understand what is happening rn... i tried reading a few articles but i can easily make out that it's fucked up propaganda and are highly biased. ik that yoongi got in a case. i've seen the vid too so ik that it isn't THAT BIG OF DEAL. so idfk know wtf is happening at this point. cud u break it down pls? I wouldn't mind a link to a genuine article that's just facts...

thnx!! much luv ✨️

On the 6th of August, Yoongi drove around 500m on an electric scooter (something like this, not the correct model idk the correct one but something like this) from a restaurant he had dinner at to his house. He drove on the sidewalk in a straigth line, very slowly and carefully then when he took a turn into his apartment's street, he fell. He wore a helmet and the only person "who could have gotten hurt" was himself but he didn't. He got up right away but three patrolling officers saw him and confronted him. They suspected him to be drunk, so they did a breath analyser test and the results came out to something under 0,08% (idk the exact results, but they were under this number or this number exact. and to give a perspective, that's around the number you have after one and a half beer) and because of that, he got fined and his scooter license revoked. The punishment was done. The case was closed.

Or so we all thought.

Yoongi instantly came onto Weverse and confessed. HE WAS THE FIRST PERSON WE EVEN HEARD OF THIS INCIDENT FROM!!! HE LEGITEMATELY WAS THE FIRST AND HE APOLOGISED RIGHT AWAY!!!!

And it should have been done by then. He apologised, he got the legal punishment and IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN DONE BY THEN.

But it wasn't. South Korean Media (aka Satan's spawn which came outta his asshole) blew it out of proportions, they spread false information, spread falls cctv videos, spread lies about him in his service, slandered his name and shamed him. They literally tried to fucking murder his public image and many "ARMYs" jumped on the hate train as well (they're another species of Satan's asshole spawn). Obviously Knetz did as well because they're jobless, loveless assholes. They wanted him to apologise over and over again, wanted him to leave BTS, wanted him jailed, wanted him dead. It is literally fucking insane.

It came that far that it has been literally almost a month and it's still going on (bear in mind, Yoongi was the first person who dropped the news on the night of it happening and he apologised right away and took responsibility. It should have ended with that).

Then on the 23rd of August he was called to the police station because the entire backlash started an investigation (like WTF???) and K-media reporters were illegally (or legaly? please correct me if I'm wrong) waiting in front of the station, bombarding him with cameras and making him publicly apologise for everything (I thankfully didn't see anything about it except one video on tiktok I had forced onto my FYP about him literally bowing while too many camera flashes went off. I reported and blocked this account so fast, seeing this video upset me so much).

It should have been over then, fuck it never even should have come that fucking far, but it wasn't.

Now today, Yoongi comes online and writes this heartbreaking apology letter and it breaks my fucking heart. It should have been over when he wrote that first post, he got legally punished and he apologised. It should have been over then, but instead it escalated into this.

If you want to help check out Cam's twitter page, she has templates we can send to companies etc. which will help Yoongi. Also check out Min Suga HQ and their template. And keep reporting people who spread hateful lies about him on social media. Please don't share any pictures/videos about the incident or police station and don't engage with these accounts except for reporting & blocking them.

Let's keep sending him loving messages on Weverse and stream/buy his music! istfg I wanna do so much more for him, but at least like this we can show him that he is loved 💜 let's keep fighting for him and showing him love 💜

I hope he is surrounded by people who truly love him and that he finds some sort of rest soon 💜

[count-alucard-tepes]

Headcanons for my Kengan Ashura/Omega hotties😍 - What they're watching on TV and the snacks they're eating📺

Raian Kure👹: true crime documentaries, he snacks on a lot of sugar even though he shouldn't

Kanoh Agito😁: the history channel, he's eating a whole family size cheesecake...he needs the calories

Kaolan Wongsawat🥊: kitchen nightmares, thai fried bananas and mango sticky rice

Kiryu Setsuna🥰: CCTV footage of Ohma🤣 JF, he watches the bachelor with his step sisters and snacks on pizza

Adam Dudley😬: American football, he snacks on all the junk food he can find at the import store

Hatsumi Sen😍: k dramas, he has beers

Sekibayashi Jun🤼‍♂️: wrestling, popcorn and beer

Hassad❤️‍🩹: Bollywood dramas, hummus and falafel

Himuro Ryo🤍: the amazing race, cup ramen

Inaba Ryo🖤: cartoons, whipped cream sandwiches

Kiozan Takeru🤼‍♂️: wrestling, doesn’t snack so he’d have some tea

Muteba Gizenga🪖: listens to music, he usually just drinks wine

Nikaido Ren🤩: storage wars, he’s a healthy snacker so peanut butter and apples

Sawada Keizaburo💅: say yes to the dress, he snacks on cold cuts

Yoroizuka Saw Paing😜: American ninja warrior, he likes to snack on jaggery

Retsudo Katahara🕵️: bar rescue, he snacks on sushi being the bougie bitch he is

Takamaya Minoru😷: formula 1: drive to survive, sour cream and onion crisps

Long Min🥷: shark tank, egg salad sandwiches

Misasa😎 : special forces, he eats a lot so usually he gets bento boxes as snacks

Takeshi Wakatsuki 💪: strongman YouTube videos, whipped cream in a can

Narushima Joji 🍺: mukbangs, all the beer he can find

Shen Wulong 🔌: cat videos, lots of alcohol

Xia Yan🪱: wildlife documentaries, cup ramen

King Rama XIII👑: anything with beautiful women, fruits from his palace gardens

[accio-victuuri]

wang yibo - cctv new year’s eve party behind the scenes

How popular is "Dragon"? A video will give you a first-hand experience! Hit @武彤's Shengyin WuTong @UNIQ-王一博at the rehearsal site and feel the passionate collision of electric guitar and traditional suona! Lock on "Sail 2024 - China Central Radio and Television New Year's Eve Party" at 8 o'clock tonight. The Chinese style rock music is majestic. Follow the rhythm of the music and sing together this New Year's Eve!

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Rachel Daly x Millie Bright x Reader

Part Eight - ReUnited

Posted: 13/05/23, Edited: 26/09/23

Leaving you fast asleep in bed Millie was up and quietly packing, she’d booked flights home for you both separately from the team; they weren’t due to come back until tomorrow but she wanted to get you home as soon as possible. She called Rachel to let her know what had happened and that you were coming home early. She’d also taken a phone call from the police that the man had been charged, the video footage from the team and CCTV making it easy to convict him. The video had gone viral meaning there were hundreds of comments and an outpouring of support waiting for you when you got home, praise was also given to Millie for her quick thinking and take-no-shit approach.

Stirring awake at the zips being pulled around the suitcase, for a split second you’d forgotten what had happened in the early hours of the morning. Your best friend noticed your morning stretch immediately and offered a soothing tone of voice letting you know what was happening. Surprisingly you were feeling a lot better than yesterday and were thankful you had such amazing friends, knowing that it could have been a lot worse if it wasn’t for them. Undressing in the shower your fingertips ran over your forearm that was now a giant blotch of colours but found comfort in knowing they will fade and you’ll never have to see that horrible man again. Vowing to never go off by yourself in the future, you weren’t going to let this get to you; if anything it had made you feel more empowered to stand up for yourself and others. Glancing at your phone after washing the night off you to see all the notifications, only one name mattered. Rachy 👑.

“Good morning beautiful! You’re the strongest woman I know, I love you so much and can’t wait to have you home 💜 I know you’re sleeping but I’ll be at the airport to get you later with lots of kisses for my number one 😘😘😘”

A smile spread across your face at the thought of seeing your girlfriend, you’d missed her more than you realised - solidly confirming that you never wanted to be away from her again. You’d always thought you didn’t have to spend 24/7 with a partner, you didn’t want to merge into each other but maybe that’s because you’d never been in a relationship like this before.

Choosing to wear a long sleeve dress so you didn’t have to look at your arm, you tried your best to not let it ruin your last few hours in the sun and finished your book on the balcony until it was time to go. On the flight home Millie was much more subdued than when you arrived, letting you watch a musical with her knowing they’re your best medicine. The happy songs making you want to dance and sing, leaving the Barcelona drama on and off the pitch behind you.

Walking through the terminal the doors opened to show the love of your life waiting patiently for you to arrive, flowers and balloon in hand you launched yourself at her. Her arms squeezed tightly around your chest as your legs wrapped around her waist letting the balloon float up to the ceiling and the flowers drop to the floor. The only thing that mattered was each other. The only thing you cared about was each other. “My sweet girl” she whispered as her hand clutched the back of your head. Nothing compares to smooshing your face into Rachel’s neck and feeling your bodies pressed together as one. “I never wanna leave you again” your voice muffled into her “I’m never gonna let you leave me again!” placing you back onto the ground and holding your cheeks in her hands. Feeling her lips connect with your forehead you sunk back into each other; your safe place, your everything, your home being her and only her. Your anxieties blown away from simply being in her presence.

Millie had wandered off to find a trolley for the suitcases as Rachel took your hand and offered you a seat on top of them, pushing you through the airport like the queen she viewed you as. The three of you chatted about all the good parts of the holiday; she didn’t mention the incident because she knew you’d talk about it when you were ready.

After loading everything in the car, Rachel’s hand found her place on your thigh “I can drop you home before my game if you want?” she suggested quietly. “I don’t think so! What happened to never leaving me again aih?” you joked. “I didn’t know if you’d feel up for it?” she shrugged but you weren’t having any of it. “What a better way to cheer me up than seeing my girl in her kit for 90 minutes?” you laughed. She smiled as she reached through to the back seat unveiling your shirt “I bought it just in case” the love she has for you washed over her face. Jumping out of the car and dragging the suitcase back out of the boot the girls looked at you like you were mad, grabbing a bag, your jeans and trainers you made your way back to the front of the car. You handed your girlfriend a bag of presents and pulled your jeans on underneath your dress. She slyly watched you pull them over your bum then slip your dress off and her shirt on. Twirling around in front of her “like I never left” you announced as you plopped back in your seat. Rach watched you intently as your glow started to come back but she couldn’t divert her eyes from your arm that was now on show. You could feel her staring so distracted her with the bag “open your presents then!” She was shocked at the amount, looking at you in disbelief “I bought everything that reminded me of you!” you laughed. Mostly silly things like magnets, keyrings, a stuffed animal and a friendship bracelet. Stomping your foot onto the dashboard as you slipped your trainers on, “we’ve all got one! It was Millie’s idea to put them round our ankles, then you can hide them in your socks when you play” you told her, pleased with the idea. Bringing her knee up to her chest immediately to tie it around her ankle too before driving to Bescott Stadium.

During the drive you rummaged around your handbag trying to find any bits of make up you’d left in there, topping up your face carefully as Rach drove around the pot holes in the road. “Babe, you already look beautiful” she said, “yeah but your ex is gonna be there tonight, I need to look my best!” you announced. Villa are playing Man U today which probably means Rachel is going to be defended by her ex - Millie Turner - a topic that rarely gets brought up into conversation; you knew it was a mutual decision to split but that was about it. “I could put you in any stadium in the world and you’d always be the prettiest girl there” she beamed at you, leaning to place a kiss on your cheek as she pulled into her parking space. She opened the door for you, pulling you out and into her arms as she did. “You are the love of my life, don’t you forget it” placing a kiss on your forehead, each one of your cheeks and nose before ending on your lips. Her finger tips slipped down your arms and linked your hands in hers “do you want a jumper?” she asked quietly, wondering whether you’d want to cover your arm. “How’s anyone gonna see your name on my back if I wear a jumper? I’m okay, I promise” you reassured her. Linking your arms in hers and Millie’s who’d been sitting in the back quietly letting you both have your moment then strutted towards the stadium together.

Arriving at the entrance as the Man U bus pulled up and the players poured out Mary was the first to appear and spotting you all standing there let out a high pitch scream of excitement at seeing her friends, forgetting for a second that for tonight they were rivals. She offered her support to you and then congratulated Millie on her bravery, shocked to see you both there when a matter of hours ago you were in Barcelona. Millie T had heard the commotion and came out next, about to head over to her teammate before she spotted you and Rachel and quickly diverted into the building. Saying goodbye you told Rach to score which made Mary scoff, game face firmly etched on her now! You knew beating Man U would be tough, but not impossible “score more than one” you winked as the England teammates walked in together leaving you and Millie to find your seats.

Sure enough 2-1 to Villa at halftime, Rachel Daly on the score sheet for both of them. She had celebrated with her team before holding heart hands up to the stands towards you knowing she had done what you had told her to do, on a day like today making you feel even more special than usual. She really knew how to make you feel like the only girl in the world. Man U equalised in the second half and in the 87th minute Millie T was subbed on. A mere 6 minutes later she had headed the ball past Hannah, making your heart sink. To come away with a draw against the team at the top of the league would have been amazing but of all people it had to be your girlfriend’s ex that scored the winner. Knowing how gutted the girls must have felt you watched the teams fist bump and shake hands, noticing Rachel and Millie T exchanged words before she came running over towards you. “I’m so proud of you!” you shouted over to her, seeing the smile she started the day with had disappeared. “We lost!” her eyes rolled as she threw her arms into the air in frustration. “Only by one! It could have been a lot worse!” she shrugged at the truth in your statement as you watched Millie T walk towards where you all were. “Hey, I just thought I’d say I saw what happened to you. That guy’s a dick, I’m glad you’re okay” you nodded and thanked her “it was nice to meet you, you clearly make each other very happy” she smiled solemnly as she jogged away. You all pulled a face to each other that showed pleasant surprise - you didn’t expect that today!

The car ride home was a somber and pensive one, arriving home the ritual of the kettle flicking on as soon as you walked through the door warmed your soul. Immediately pulling your sweats on to feel comfy then lounged in the garden drinking your teas before Millie went back to her house. Before she went, Rachel stopped her “thank you for looking after her bestie” they hugged “hey, any time you know that” she reassured her “I’m just sorry I lost you in the first place (y/n/n)”, “hey you were there when I needed you, that’s all that matters” you said joining the hug. As the door closed behind her Rachel’s hand grazed your back, the slightest of touches making you feel a sense of calm and comfort. “I’m so glad you’re home beautiful” wrapping her arms around your waist “I’m so glad to be home” stroking her cheek and gazing into those beautiful blue eyes you had missed so deeply “never again do I want to be apart from you”.

Part Nine - Our Girl

[jmpeytiaotiao]

doodle (and the second design of some clothing details) (facsimile of some scenes from CCTV music video)

[lensman-arms-race]

Miscellaneous Skibidi Toilet ideas (part 3)

The only way to kill a Skibidi for good is to properly destroy the head (shooting, stabbing, etc.). If you only flush it, the Skibidi head is only temporarily out of action, and will later respawn in another empty toilet. (That's why the war is still going on - the alliance doesn't realise this and relies too much on flushing.)

---

Microphones and speakers are the same thing, just specialised in different directions. (That not a headcanon; that's literally true IRL. Any speaker can function as a crude microphone and vice versa.) Therefore, some cameras can learn to use their microphone as a tiny speaker, enabling them to audibly vocalise a bit (just very quietly and tinnily).

This would also explain why the Skibidi-possessed cameras are able to join in the 'skibidi skibidi skibidi' chant; they're sounding it out through their microphones.

They probably can't use their microphones as a mic and a speaker at the same time, so if they choose to talk out loud, they can't hear anything as they say it.

---

Imagine speakers enjoying discovering a cache of human-made music, until they stumbled across Lou Reed's Metal Machine Music and were like '…no no no no NO NO NO not that one!'

That album was made by Reed playing an electric guitar and putting a microphone between 2 amplifiers and recording the resulting feedback. Speakers would probably think that was so wrong!

---

Imagine hardware-heads being fascinated by humans being able to increase their strength through weight-lifting and other training. It means that humans can effectively self-upgrade. They'd probably be in awe of our tissues' ability to self-repair too.

---

Cameras see at a fixed framerate, resulting in some interesting effects when recording something that's in sync with the framerate. (This is a thing IRL; you've probably already seen clips of helicopter rotors or plane propellors in sync with a video camera, making it look as though the aircraft is mysteriously hovering without moving its engines.)

Therefore, with a bit of 'Hollywood logic', you could write something with Skibidis developing stealth technology that takes advantage of this effect, blinking out of existence during each frame. The stealthy Skibidi is undone when the hardware-heads call in a human ally to help - human eyes' saccades are too random for the Skibidi to keep up, and the human can see them!

(I won't go into saccades to avoid derailing the post, but look them up when you get a moment. The way eyes work is nuts!)

---

Silliness: imagine a hardware-head trying to access a human webpage but they can't because they don't tick the 'prove you're human/not a robot' tickbox. They think it's just a preferences thing; they don't realise it controls access to the page.

---

What would hardware-heads think of normal human-made hardware? Would it be creepy to them? If an Alliance camera saw a human-made CCTV camera on a pole, would that be disturbing because it's like a severed head? Or would it be fine because it's clearly a different thing from themselves? Or maybe it would be funny like a Halloween decoration, in the same way we might be amused by a funny skull on display.

---

The Titans' brains are so colossal and powerful that they could do Bitcoin-mining calculations in their heads just for fun.

---

Part 1 | Part 2 | Feel free to add more!

[moviesstoriesandbooks]

What if Chay moves on healthily because no matter the reason , Kim's actions were shitty? Ok how about if Chay goes to therapy to deal with the "murder cat leaving bodies in the bar" incident , and talks and figures out his shit with a mafia approved therapist (I'm looking right at you , the person who wrote the ff) , and she is adamant about boundaries and respect , trust and basic needs in a relationship ??

And Chay , being the good boy that he is , listens. And understands. And actively works towards bettering his mind . He understands what Kim did is wrong on many levels and also that he should never settle for less , that he should never throw himself away , or be sad over other people and their horrible behaviour.

And he rediscovers his passion for music , goes to the very same college , and focuses on his life.

Gets an internship, moves to the US , where they specifically ask him to stay because they'd love to have him full term. And he builds his own life there , Vegas and Arm keep him off the radar , and he lives his life almost normal. No involvement with the mafia on a surface level.

Porsche though , still cursing himself for undermining Chay's safety during the coup , makes him take self defence lessons. Which quickly progress to advanced defensive tatics, much to Porsche's shocked surprise. Porchay has particular penchant for throwing knives . He's been trying with axes these days , more damage and incapacitating, Chay says on facetime to a proud but worried Porsche .

Kim doesn't know about any of these. Any information he craves about Porchay would have to come from Tankhun , Kinn or Porsche , and it's not like he's on speaking terms with any of them . He could visit Tankhun and fish for gossip , but even he seemed very tight lipped about Chay and his US college life .

Had Chay asked them all to keep it quiet? Kim did try to track the transactions and Chay's daily bodyguard tail info. Even that was so heavily underground that the only thing he could be sure about was that Chay was alive . Was Chay ordering it be this way??

Till one day , Kim realises that the ever present tightness in his chest , the heartache when he hears Chay's old studio recordings , videos they filmed together and even the major family cctv footage from before he left , is all Kim has left of his love. Because yes , Kim did love Chay , and he was too much of a coward to say it openly ,to even admit to himself and now he wants to say it out loud to the entire world , but there's no one to hear it.

Meanwhile Chay only ever thinks about Kim in anger and hate over what he did , and pity for Kim's supposed reasons , but also derision at the fear those reasons were trying to hide. Only ever thinks about him when his music is on his mind , but that music no longer making the bridge towards love .

And after two years when he returns , Chay is Porchay Pichaya Kittisawad , a man who has lived content with his friends and lovers , grown into his role as the minor family heir : with eyes that could melt hearts and hands that could stop them.

Kim doesn't even get notified when Chay returns , and the news is unceremoniously dumped on him five minutes before Porchay is walking into the ballroom clad in his pristine navy suit, fluid even in his stillness , joking with Porsche and Kinn , looking every part the heir , that Kim suddenly fell short. He used to be the mysterious heir , who everyone gravitated towards. Noone was looking at him anymore. While the years made him grumpy and unapproachable , the same seemed to have bettered Chay , like the finest of wine.

He even looked different. No more the stumbling shy blushing kid , he stood tall , taller than Porsche , and was making smalltalk with the snakes who Kim had threatened for trying to monopolise the profits last month , with the air of a prince meeting his long lost distant relatives.

The more Kim watched him , the more his confidence shrunk. Maybe he could make himself known after a few guests leave.

Porchay caught his eye at that exact moment , stopped and stared , then smiled at him and raised his glass.

Kim bowed his head slightly and turned away. He had lost track of whatever conversation he was pretending to be a part of.

He had to excuse himself to the bathroom to get his bearings and there , the gilded mirror pointed out the unwelcome red dusting his cheeks. His eyes looked overly bright and he looked like he'd run a mile.

Had Porchay forgotten everything?? The silent touches , the night spend cuddling , the days spent making music together , did they mean nothing to him anymore?? Maybe he doesn't want his brothers to notice anything. Of course he definitely hasn't told anyone anything because Kim would've known from Porsche , for sure, if he had.

Maybe Porchay wanted to keep things on the down low. Maybe they'll talk after the guests leave and he'd slip back into the old comfortable familiarity. Right now ,he was anything but familiar. And it didn't feel comfortable when Porchay looked at him so casually.

There was no longer that twinkle in his eyes for Kim , that used to be only reserved for him.

------------------------

Porchay was lounging on the couch by the kitchen , drinking juice straight out of the carton , Porsche sitting with his feet on his lap and torso supported on Kinn's when Kim entered. Tankhun was taking the other couch all to himself while paying strict attention to whatever Porsche was saying. They looked every bit the picture of family , that Kim suddenly felt like *he* was the outsider.

That he was the one who was introduced into this less than 3 years ago , and he was the one who had went away for two of them .

When his entry caught everyone's attention , tankhun patted the seat next to him and offered him a smile , which Kim returned while he lowered himself by his brother's side. He could easily fall into the conversation that resumed, about music , business , gossip they'd missed , bodyguards who joined , vegas, pete and macau and even little Venice.

After they all left tired to their rooms , Kim wondered if Chay would pay him a visit that night. He couldn't sleep till sunrise , but Chay still didn't show up.

[coldfanbou]

It's my request again haha.

It's inspired from the Misamo music video.

You are a security guard who is newly employed by an art museum. Today is the first time that you work alone at the night shift. Some experienced staff tell you that no matter what you hear, you should not leave the security room and do not touch any drawings, otherwise you will be in trouble.

You did not put that in mind, and you are just too bored for watching the cctv, so you decided to take a walk in the museum. Everything remains normal until you walk past the painting of the three beauty goodness (which are Misamo). You feel like they are alive in the drawing, and they are looking at you seductively. You are tempted to walk closer. You feel like the painting is becoming a 3D figure. Their body seems real. Your hand slowly touch their body on the drawing.

At the moment you touch the drawing, a flash light forces you to close your eye. When you open your eye again, you are surrounded by Misamo, their touch is real, which makes you feel horny. They keep teasing you until you can't hold on, you want to fuck them immediately, but they ask you something for exchange, your mind is occupied by their sexy body, you say yes even they finish.

Then you have sex with them in different drawings. (Maybe mi sa mo each with different MV customs and a foursome in the church?) Your body already drained after the marathon sex, but you could not stop, their sexy body keep triggering the lust in your body.

When the sun comes out again and other staff back to work, they could not find you in the museum, but no one noticed there is a new dead body hidden at the corner of the drawing, which is you. And there are a lot of dead men's bodies in the drawing already, so no one would notice.

Alternative ending: When you wake up again, you are lying on the floor right in front of the drawing, you rub your eye and can't believe what have happened. You feel like it was a dream, but your body is really drained, and you misamo in the drawing are smiling at you. You just can't wait to work night shift again.

I think it's really to imagine a smut scenario with a mv, if you think it's good, I may send more request about them in the future

I like it. For me personally it reminds me of a Courage the Cowardly dog episode where the people in a painting have the power to leave at night

[roo-bastmoon]

LOCK IT DOWN, Y'ALL

Puppykitties, I do not mean this harshly, but distractions, drama, and sabotage happen with every comeback and never more so than with Jimin.

We are in the fight of our lives for placement on the charts and awards on music programs. We need fewer filtered streams and much higher sales.

WE HAVE MONEY TO SPEND FOR JIMIN AND VERY FEW TO STEP UP AND MAKE AN ACCOUNT TO BUY:

We absolutely cannot focus on trash talk and ship discourse right now.

Yes, I know today there was a lot of excitement. Joon, Yoongi, Tae, JK, and others (many others in the industry) went to Harry Styles' concert today and it very much appears that Jimin and J-Hope did not. How do I know? Because there's photos of the Tannies on their personal time all over my timeline when there should be screenshots of streaming and voting.

It's disappointing because Jungkook just got done saying he was human too and asking us not to stalk him during his private time. I know some folks feel like if you're out in public, you are "fair game." But that's my point: they aren't game, they aren't prey--they are people and they deserve to be able to hang out with their friends and not have it scrutinized and weaponized. So just know it's always best to let THEM be the ones to share such info, like Joon and Tae did on their insta.

You best believe, the more we pressure them like this, the less we'll get of them.

The last time we saw Jikook together off-schedule, just the two of them alone, they got in a car to leave from the airport in April of 2022. A few days later, the gossip rags sabotaged Jimin's first OST With You with a bullshit scandal about missing insurance premium payments and his apartment "seizure" (on paper).

And ever since that day, we have not seen Jikook hang out in any personal capacity, unless you count the arcade in DC with Hobi and Her. Not once have we seen them alone. POINTEDLY.

There's been blurry CCTV photos of two people in a mini mart and whispers from K forums of folks seeing them around the neighborhood, but nothing concrete; they don't even mention each other in TMIs any more.

We KNOW they have hung out, as per inferences from their family, tattoo artist, and boxing coach, but no solid evidence from the primary source, even when directly asked. Again, POINTEDLY.

And yet when they are together for a work thing or online, they get along like a house on fire. They slap butts and tap hands and do cute things for each other's birthdays and get into giggle fits and compliment each other and flirt like crazy on WeVerse. Jungkook has issued several emphatic invitations for Jimin to come to him and told us to look forward to his teaser at midnight.

But they aren't sharing their relationship with us like they used to, so we honestly do not know if they hang out in person much these days.

P.O.I.N.T.E.D.L.Y.

Not because there's any indication of bad blood or a whiff of a breakup. Our little perfectionist is booked and busy, and our golden maknae was taking time to recharge.

You need to remember that since solo era was mentioned, Jimin has been writing, composing, and recording his own songs.

He's traveled abroad multiple times--Chicago, LA, NYC, Paris--to name a few.

He's hosted people who have traveled to Korea to work with him.

The producers admonished him for not taking breaks to eat or shower and in fact sleeping in the studio for many nights.

He's had to rehearse for music shows, concerts, his collab, and his own music videos.

He's been training so hard on new choreo that he was in too much pain to join Jin for his birthday and you KNOW how our boy feels about his members' birthdays.

He's filmed RUN content and commercials and a documentary and all sorts of stuff for his own album.

He's had work as brand ambassador for Dior and Tiffany's beyond just Fashion Week, which was huge.

I've lost count of the number of high-end photoshoots he's done for Vogue, W, Elle, and I don't know what all else.

The man JUST got off a plane the day before from traveling half-way around the world to interview with and perform for Fallon for TWO NIGHTS.

If I were him, I wouldn't dash over to a packed concert less than 24 hours later, either. Doesn't mean I don't love my members, or my partner, or Styles. It means I'm TIRED and I'm protecting my health and energy.

Especially considering there are appearances on television coming up and god knows what else to promote FACE.

AND FACE IS WHAT WE SHOULD BE FOCUSED ON.

I love you all, but I swear to God, if you give your time and energy to the assholes on the timeline attacking Jikook, you are robbing Jimin of the time and energy you should be giving to voting, streaming, buying, and hyping FACE. Which is what they want. They want to siphon that energy from you. Please don't be stupid.

We are grasping for every INCH of space on the charts up against absolute giants this and next week. It would be different if all of ARMY got behind Jimin 24/7 but you know how many little 7s actually behave when push comes to shove. To say nothing of the antis, mantis, multis, and cult working against him with purpose.

Please don't let this kind of crap sabotage Jimin's hard work. Celebrate the fact that some BTS members got to hang out at a concert, and honor the fact that some BTS members had other things to do.

PLEASE snap out of it and stick to our goals. We can debate Jikook all day long after FACE is safely to bed. FOCUS FOCUS FOCUS.

We are in lockdown.

SO LOCK THAT SHIT DOWN.

Love, Roo

[jarenka]

Sudden guest post under my music tag.

My friend @erlenwein recently introduced her students to the different styles of Chinese opera. She also showed a video of these styles to me with some commentaries and I asked her to translate them into English (these commentaries very much expanded in the process).

Fragments of 2024 Lunar New Year Gala from CCTV-1 (main TV channel in Mainland China)

Here are @erlenwein 's commentaries:

1:33 Beijing opera 京剧 presented by two laodan 老旦，the role of older women. The play they're presenting is called ”杨门女将“ ("The female generals of the Yang family"), one of many plots based on the fictionalized story of the military Yang family (Song dynasty period). https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Generals_of_the_Yang_Family

2:36 Yuju 豫剧 (Henan opera)， Kunqu 昆剧 (around Shanghai, one of the oldest forms of Chinese opera), presented by wenchou 文丑 (comical role, in this case literati). The name of the piece ( “话梨园” ) can be translated as "Talking about the Pear garden" (Pear garden being the metaphorical name for the opera world), but I couldn't find any specifics, and I frankly couldn't be arsed to read the subtitles, sorry. Fun fact: the white patch on their faces is called 'a piece of tofu'.

3:15 Chuanju 川剧 (Sichuan) presented by a huadan 花旦. The play is ”别洞观景“ ("Looking from a different side of the cave"? Seems like it). The main character singing is 白鳝仙 (Immortal White Eel?) who came to the world of mortals. Check out her use of pheasant feathers! Usually the most known thing about Sichuan opera is their technique of 变脸, changing the masks really fast, but they decided to showcase a different role here. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ayy7wcfeHU - Face-changing performance.

3:57 Chaozhou (Teochew) opera 潮剧 (Chaoshan region, southern Fujian and eastern Guangdong), presented by xiaosheng 小生 (young man, usually a romantic character) and huadan 花旦 (young woman in a romance plot). The play is “苏六娘” ("Su Liuniang").

4:34 Pingju 评剧 (Hebei opera), presented by huadan 花旦. The play is “花为媒” (“Matchmaking flowers").

5:07 Yueju 越剧 (Shaoxing opera, from Zhejiang), presented by xiaosheng 小生 and huadan 花旦. Both performers are women — it's typical for Yue opera, since the art form switched to primarily female troupes in 1930s. The play presented is “梁山伯与祝英台” ("Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai"), a very popular story often referred to as "Chinese Romeo and Juliet". You might've seen it also being called "Butterfly Lovers".

6:31 This part is just called 武戏, "military opera". It starts with a wuchou 武丑, comical military role, then wusheng 武生 (military male role) and wudan 武旦 (military female role) come out to present their fighting, juggling, and acrobatic skills. The flags behind their backs show their status as generals/officers. I can't imagine the skill needed to do this all so seemingly effortlessly. *I've seen mentions that the flags 靠旗 represent an army under the command of the character wearing them, but I can't find any info on it again to back up my claims. If you know something about it, please let me know! The piece is titled “杨威奋勇” (I'm not quite sure how to translate it, but it seems to refer to the Yang family again).

8:32 And back to 京剧 with laosheng 老生 (older men, also known as bearded sheng 须生). The play is “龙凤呈祥” ("Dragon and phoenix bringing prosperity").

[summercourtship]

stay to burn (only to drown instead): chapter three: all that for this? [part I]

masterpost | ao3 link

jonathan crane x reader; bruce wayne x reader; edward nashton x reader | warnings: canon typical violence, sexual content | word count: 8244 words

DISCLAIMER: these chapters are not meant to be read alone. not every chapter has content for one of the three pairings listed. this is an ongoing fanfiction that I am cross-posting here on tumblr, not a series of one-shots.

chapter one

A black dress with the tag still on was draped over the back of your couch, a pair of heels thrown haphazardly on one of the cushions. You were sitting at the tiny kitchen table squeezed into your space, a desk mirror in front of you propped up with a stack of books. Your hair was, for all intents and purposes, cooperating with you tonight as you pinned and placed it exactly as the smiling woman on your phone screen was showing you- the tutorial had been labeled as easy although you were finding it anything but. Turning your head to the side, you tried to view your profile but the mirror simply wasn’t big enough. Sighing, you swiped the video off, deciding to just wing the rest of your hairstyle.

But your attention was soon drawn away from your hair to the TV you had playing in the background even though you weren’t watching it. You turned to look back at it from your chair. You had put the news on even though you wanted to cultivate better vibes for the night than the depressing 24/7 news cycle of Gotham City. Putting it on must’ve been a force of habit, you supposed.

“...new reports of the criminal dubbed the Scarecrow by the Gotham Gazette have been coming in after an alleged robbery at a pharmaceutical warehouse last night where the criminal was spotted on CCTV. He was allegedly first spotted in November, although his actions have escalated from small break-ins to terrorizing city officials…”

As you watched the news broadcast, eyes roaming over the grainy figure of the Scarecrow, something lit up in a back corner of your brain, an itch that you couldn’t locate and couldn’t scratch. But maybe you were just uncomfortable with the idea of another masked criminal running around the city. Your experience with the last one was enough to put you off of them for the rest of your life.

Breaking yourself out of the trance-like state you’d been staring at the TV with, you got up and turned it off. You didn’t need any of that tonight. You could learn all about Gotham’s newest villain tomorrow. Tonight your only job was to enjoy yourself. Maybe even have fun.

Scoffing, you plopped back onto your seat, resisting the urge to run a hand through your half-done hair. You turned back to your mirror to continue working on your appearance, opting to listen to music instead of the news. Queueing up a playlist of party jams, you skipped every song until you found one you knew, immediately bouncing your head as you began to dance along in your seat.

You decided then to make a quick promise to yourself, a mantra to get you through the night without losing your mind: this is going to be a fun night out and I will not spend any time worrying about silly little things.

When your hair is complete, you moved to pick up the dress you’d bought two days ago. It had, admittedly, cost more than you had been expecting to spend for the night but it had looked good on you and when were you going to have the opportunity to attend a gala again? You might as well go all out.

Zipping the back of the dress up, you cringed when you realized that you couldn’t get the last stretch closed, even with the awkward angle you had your arms at.

Well. You could just ask Dr. Crane to finish zipping it up for you.

You imagined the way his hands would caress your back, holding you steady as he slowly closed the dress. And then you started to imagine his hands moving the other way, unzipping and pulling the dress off of your body-

Your face burned at the thought, the skin of your back tingling in anticipation for his imagined touch. You cursed yourself for thinking about this ten minutes before he was due to arrive because of course, he’s driving you to the event.

Contorting yourself, you managed to zip the dress up. See? You don’t need to embarrass yourself. You don’t need Dr. Crane.

You were stepping into the pair of heels (that were maybe a bit too tall for you to comfortably exist in but you’d apparently been feeling yourself on that shopping trip) when a text lit up your phone.

Here.

Stomach swooping, you stood up a bit too fast causing your legs to wobble slightly on your heels (which you were now certain were definitely too tall for you). You’d given Dr. Crane your phone number a week ago, in between classes where you’d done your best to minimize the amount of contact you’d had with him as you had still been reeling from your earlier conversation in his car. You’d had a lingering bout of anxiety that had lasted the entire weekend, simmering low in your stomach and you naturally connected it to the nerves from being in the car with him.

But this was the first time he had texted you since you’d given it to him and seeing his name show up on your phone was like a straight shot of caffeine into your heart, more effective at energizing you than any early 2010’s club hit. Even if the text itself was lacking in any personality (who uses periods in a text when they aren’t pissed off? Dr. Crane, apparently) it was still an overwhelming reminder that Dr. Crane had pulled his phone out, found your name, typed out a message, and sent it.

And also that he was currently outside your building, waiting.

Checking yourself one last time in the tiny mirror, squinting to make out your form in the small glass, you nodded in affirmation that yes, you looked as good as you were going to tonight. You grabbed the tiny purse you’d bought just for this event and after making sure your keys and pepper gel were in the bag you left your apartment.

The light flickered as you briskly walked down the hallway to the stairwell, building your confidence with each step. You passed the old elevator that no one used even though it was technically in working order. But anything that dusty wasn’t being used for a reason and at least the stairs won’t break down on you.

As you opened the door to the stairs, you caught a glimpse of yourself in a stained hallway mirror. Seeing yourself outside of the tiny mirror that seemed to hone in on your biggest insecurities squashed any lingering doubts you had about your dress or your hair or your body. You looked good.

And damn it, you were determined to have fun tonight.

With renewed vigor, you hurried down the steps, purse swinging behind you as you circled around the switchbacks. Your heels clicked satisfyingly against the tile flooring, loud enough that anyone else in the stairwell must have known you were rapidly approaching.

Taking a deep breath you pushed your building's door open, stepping into the cold February night. Luckily for you, the forecast said it would be a clear night, a decidedly rare occurrence in Gotham. And sure enough, the stars were out and the moon was bright and full in the sky. Not a cloud in sight.

And there he was, waiting outside his slick black car like he said he would be, leaning against the driver’s side door. His normal clothes had been replaced by a formal three-piece suit, tailored to accentuate his frame. He’d forgone the glasses for the night, leaving no barriers for you to see how his gaze swept over your body.

“You look lovely.” Dr. Crane pushed off the car, taking a step forward to meet you.

“Thank you.” You were aware that you had, perhaps, gone a bit overboard with your appearance and you were honestly afraid that you would arrive at the gala and see knee-length skirts and khakis. But with the way Dr. Crane was looking at you right now, you decided that you couldn’t care less if people thought you were overdressed for the event.

You moved to walk over to the passenger side, wanting to get all of the awkward pleasantries out of the way as soon as possible. Maybe it would make you seem more confident to not linger too long outside his car, to get straight to the punch and take control of the night.

“Wait-” He stopped you as you turned away from him, pulling something on the back of your dress. “The tag is still on.”

“What?!” You turned your head back to look at him and sure enough, he was holding the price tag between his thumb and index finger. There goes any chance of seeming cool and confident tonight. “Oh. That’s embarrassing.”

And it was even more embarrassing when you realized that meant he saw how much you’d spent on your dress- and it wasn’t cheap. After all, all you had thought about when purchasing it was the way it had hugged your curves and hid the parts of you that you were insecure about. The price, at that moment, hadn’t mattered. But it was still frivolous and you didn’t want him thinking that you normally spent your money so recklessly.

“Don’t worry.” He put a hand on your bare shoulder, steadying you before he cleanly ripped the tag off. “It’s taken care of.”

“Thanks.” God, you were trying your best to not cringe yourself into oblivion.

Wordlessly, he moved past you to get into the car and you took another moment to follow suit.

The same style of music was playing in his car, the warmth still as inviting as before. You sighed in relief, already starting to regret not bringing a jacket with you. It was a stupid decision but you’d thought your dress looked better without it and you’d wanted Dr. Crane to see you for the first time without any barriers to your complete outfit. Certainly not a worn out rain jacket.

But still.

You could have at least bought something that matched to go on your arms because they were bare and shivering, covered in goosebumps. Who would have thought that February would be cold? Now you were starting to think that maybe your desperation for Dr. Crane to notice you in a very specific way was going to get you killed.

“You look nice tonight, too.” Your voice was quiet, like you hadn’t been sure if you were allowed to speak to him yet. His face turned to you, quick, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly. He blinked once at you before a soft smile graced his features. Though he didn’t say anything in response, you knew that your compliment had meant something to him.

“I appreciate you coming with me tonight.” He didn’t speak until he had started driving, merging into the traffic hell that was Gotham on a Saturday night. The gala was held at one of the university’s fanciest buildings, right next to the bay and across the city from the main campus. With this traffic, it could take thirty minutes to get there.

“I’ve always wanted to go to a gala.”

“They’re not very exciting.”

“For you, maybe.” You laughed, your carefree attitude toward the night apparently extending to your conversation with Dr. Crane. It was like you had decided to not be intimidated by him for one night and miraculously you were actually doing it. “I like an excuse to get dressed up.”

He hummed, switching lanes. It was like he was saying “Oh, I noticed.”

“Anyway, there’ll be free food and-” You gasped, remembering the best part. “Alcohol!”

“Right, the college student’s two motivations. Free food and alcohol.” You scoffed in response to his incredulous tone.

“What, you aren’t excited that it’s free? And readily available for you?”

“I am financially secure enough for free food to mean less.” He paused. “And I’m not much of a drinker. I prefer to be fully aware of what’s happening around me.”

“You’re no fun.” You laughed. “Don’t you like to just… let go?”

He gave you another look, equal parts surprised and amused. You were a bit surprised at yourself, too. It seemed that the confidence you felt tonight had indeed extended to your conversation. You weren’t normally this outgoing or talkative with him (sure, you talked but not in this… casual, bubbly way). It was like you were a completely different person, like you were one of the girls who had no fear about the city’s crime rate as she went to parties and clubs for a good time.

“I can be fun.” He said, his eyes focused back on the road.

“Oh yeah? How?” Your question was pointed, and you didn’t miss how he worked his jaw back and forth slightly. Thinking. Again, you got the feeling that he was debating whether or not to say something before he ultimately decided not to, keeping his mouth shut and his eyes away from yours.

You weren’t really one to talk about having fun. This was the first night in months- if not a year- where you were allowing yourself to go out for no reason but pleasure and it was all because he invited you. You opened your mouth to apologize for teasing him when he cut you off.

“I’m a busy man. Between the university, the asylum, attending court cases, I barely have time for my research. Let alone fun.” He sighed. “I’m lucky enough I’m able to come to this tonight.”

You looked down at your hands, now unsure of how to respond.

“I’ve really been looking forward to tonight, thank you for inviting me along.” You felt like you had been going through the same few comments about how excited you were for the night but it was all you could think of to talk about. Your attempt at asking him what he did for leisure backfired, so it seemed any small talk would need to be initiated by him.

Was it frustrating to be aware that he knew significantly more about you than you knew about him? Very. But when he shot down every attempt you made to change that, there was little else you could do but allow it to happen.

He didn’t respond, and the only thing you could think about now was that you had ruined the night with your unintentional prying.

You watched his hands as they moved on the steering wheel, guiding his car into the driveway for the venue. The street was lined with trees adorned with fairy lights, creating a magical glow over the damp road, their light dully reflected.

As soon as the building was in sight- the exterior lit up with spotlights, valets waiting outside, the whole nine yards- Dr. Crane turned to you.

“You won’t be expected to talk to anyone tonight. I, however, as someone whose research is partly funded by the school which is in turn funded by the donors, will be speaking to some of the wealthy sponsors there tonight.”

You nodded, even though he probably couldn’t tell. You could grin and bear it through some boring conversations as long as you were able to enjoy a few drinks and the aesthetics of it all. Though you were interested to know how Dr. Crane would describe his research because he’s never talked about it with you, or rarely mentioned it in his classes. You knew it had something to do with fear and the human psyche but that was it, really.

He pulled up to the valet, climbing out of the car. You were just opening the door when he appeared, offering his hand to help you out. You almost refused him on some sort of half-formed principle (something about being independent) but then you remembered your heels and decided that you could abandon your principles for one night. More so, you saw it as a reassurance that no, you hadn’t ruined the night by being awkward in the car. After all, he was notorious at the university as being hard to get along with and it was a miracle you managed for as long as you had.

Really, you should be giving yourself a pat on the back for even getting this far with him.

Gently resting your hand on his own, you placed one heel out onto the pavement which was still glistening from the rain earlier in the day. You looked up at the building, smiling at how picturesque everything was now that you were sure Dr. Crane wasn’t upset.

The Martha Wayne Memorial Hall was the most ornate building on campus and it was the one that was used the least by the school. Conferences, career conventions, and this, apparently, were the only things it was used for. You’d been inside once before during your college orientation’s tour of campus and it had been a very brief visit. Unlike a lot of formal event venues, it was styled like an old opera house, fitting the Gothic style favored by most of Gotham’s architects. There were even some gargoyles hanging out on the eaves.

As soon as you were steady on your feet, Dr. Crane let go of your hand, handing his keys to one of the valets who had come up to the pair of you.

Inside the building it was no less ornate, with marble floors and small chandeliers lining the ceiling. The atrium had three rooms off of it, a large ballroom, the banquet room, and the theatre. Occasionally, touring Broadway shows would come here for a few nights but you’d never been able to afford tickets, even with a student discount. In the center of the room was a grand glass staircase, leading to the upper levels of the building.

However, even more impressive than the interior was the people. Any fears you had about being overdressed were wiped away when you saw what the other guests were wearing. You were surrounded by Gotham’s elite, wearing their best jewlery and furs, things they would never dare wear out on the town. You could also tell who the people from the university were from the way their skin seemed more lived in, the way their hair wasn’t completely perfect. They had more important things to do than sit in front of their mirror making sure they were perfect before leaving the house.

“Somehow, I feel underdressed,” You were staring at a young woman in a sequin-covered floor length gown, tiny pearls woven into her complex hairstyle. You made brief eye contact with her before she looked away, her facial expression blank.

“Then don’t concern yourself with other people.” You looked over at him, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was right, though. What did it matter if people spent a thousand dollars on a dress for this event (which made the two hundred you spent on your own seem like nothing) if you were here to have a good time?

Before you could respond, a voice came over the loudspeaker, effectively drowning out the mindless chatter of the guests. The lights flashed once in the lobby, slow enough that you knew it was deliberate and not them simply flickering. The universal theatre signal for ”get in here, the show’s about to start.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you would please make your way into the auditorium for tonight’s presentation. Thank you.”

Like one being, the crowd began shuffling towards the theater.

“Looks like we arrived just in time.” Dr. Crane hadn’t started moving yet, watching the crowd amble away. You turned to him when you started walking, raising your eyebrows.

“Did you plan it so we’d be here right as the presentation began?”

He smiled, his eyes sliding to you. “Yes.” You caught me, his face seemed to say. But I wanted you to.

And you smiled back, more from relief at seeing him relaxed again than what he’d actually said. You knew you had a bad habit of overanalyzing every encounter you had with him, searching for clues of his true feelings in the minimal amount of words he used to communicate with you. But just because you knew you had a habit of doing it didn’t mean you were going to stop anytime soon.

Ushers- who were definitely students making a maximum of eight dollars an hour- stood by the double doors leading to the orchestra level seats, making sure everyone got one of the programs outlining the order of events for the presentation as well as informing them that there were no assigned seats (with a few exceptions for some of the extremely wealthy guests in the boxes. Of which you were not so it didn’t matter to you).

Dr. Crane walked close to your side, and as you passed through the double doors into the auditorium, the back of his hand brushed yours, just for a quick second. Though your heart skipped a beat at the sudden contact, you quickly told yourself it was an accident on his part, born from your close proximity as you moved into the theater.

Which was huge and you racked your brain trying to think of the last time you were there. Maybe freshman orientation? Either way it had been a long time since you stepped into the theater and it was even more ostentatious than you remembered it being.

Red carpet ran down the length of every aisle, the seats upholstered with a matching color of crushed velvet. The house went up three tiers, gold filigree covering the black walls, hiding the lighting fixtures in their details. And at the very top of the painted, domed ceiling was a large glittering chandelier.

“How much money do you think they spent on this?” You whispered to Dr. Crane as your gaze roamed around, who chuckled low in his chest.

“A couple million, at least.” He responded, his voice matching yours in its volume.

“I feel like I’m at an opera.” You were staring at the chandelier,

“The presentation-” his voice was dripping in sarcasm and you hid your smile by ducking your chin- “will kill that, don’t worry.”

You liked this side of him. Humorous, not worried about his classes or what was happening down at the asylum (you assumed that’s what he worried about, he didn’t disclose that sort of thing to you). He seemed so much more at ease here in his well-pressed suit than he ever was giving a lecture. You would almost think he was in his element, if you didn’t know him better.

He placed a hand on the small of your back as he pointed to a row of seats that had two empty and wasn’t too close to the stage (the fronts and center rows were reserved for potential donors) and gently guided you over to it. You could feel the texture of his hand through your dress, surprisingly rough fingers separated from your own skin by a single layer of thin fabric. It was an innocent gesture, you told yourself, just to make sure you knew where he was going.

Either way, you followed his guidance, shuffling into the row after him. You sat in the seat, the plush cushion as comfortable as it had looked from the aisle. You allowed yourself to sink into it, so much more comfortable than the wooden lecture hall seats you were used to. It wasn’t comparable, honestly.

“How long will this last, anyway?” You turned to Dr. Crane, the program unopened on your lap.

“It will feel like forever but-” He paused when you laughed, throwing another curious look your way. Maybe he hadn’t meant it as a joke, but you were amused by his blunt delivery. “It should only be thirty or forty minutes.”

Internally, you groaned. You never were good at sitting through boring programs.

Opening the program, you scanned past the thank yous and ads for shows that were coming to the theater and local businesses, looking for the order of events.

Yeah, it looked pretty boring.

The lights dimmed and the President of Gotham University stepped on stage, her hand raised in a still wave to the crowd, who was clapping politely at her entrance. There was no cheering, no whooping. This was a civilized event. She had one of those obnoxiously big TED-talk style microphones taped to her cheek and you knew you only had a few more seconds to steel yourself before the masturbatory worship of the university began.

You loved your school, of course. But you didn’t know how anyone bought into the blind loyalty that colleges demanded from their students, alumni, and donors. From the tone that Dr. Crane had used when he mentioned talking to potential sponsors or the presentation, you would hazard a guess that he at least somewhat agreed with you. Maybe you could make fun of this after, laugh about it during the ride home.

Once the applause (quickly) died down, the President began speaking, outlining why it was so important to support the school. She highlighted some of the professors’ specific research topics (Dr. Crane’s was not included and you wondered if he was upset about that but you couldn't bring yourself to peer over at him, not so soon at least), emphasizing all of the good the university was doing. You could barely keep yourself from rolling your eyes, knowing that most of the money given to the school tonight would probably end up in someone’s pocket and not anywhere near the students.

The bitter thought surprised you, but it was hard to believe that the millions of dollars people gave to the university were used for good when your own department was severely underfunded and wasn’t even unpopular.

You wondered how much Dr. Crane received for his research.

You were trying your best to focus on the presentation but he was so close to you, your thigh just barely touching his own. (Couldn’t they have made these seats a bit farther apart, with the millions of dollars they spent on furnishings?) You shuffled your feet, slowly starting to pull your leg away from his, shrinking in on yourself slightly to give him more space.

Only for his leg to just take up the space you had created, your bodies once again connected at a single point on your thighs.

You told yourself it was a subconscious action on his part. That he somehow didn’t realize he was chasing you.

You peered over at him from the corner of your eye, watching as he seemed to concentrate on the President’s speech. Then his eyes flicked over to you and back to the stage, a small smile ghosting across his mouth.

He knew what he was doing.

But what did he mean by it?

On your other side was an older man, engrossed in the presentation. You didn’t want to be close to him at all, didn’t want to give him any funny ideas about what you were doing. So there was only one option for your legs.

You squeezed your legs together, moving them once again next to Dr. Crane’s. At the same moment, he moved his hand from the armrest to his thigh. You stared for a moment at how close his hand was to your leg- on which the slit of your dress was laying in such a way that your bare skin was exposed.

Wrenching your gaze away from your legs, you forced yourself to watch the presentation again. Which, honestly, had to be at least halfway done by now. It wasn’t dragging on as much as you had feared, but it was still not how you wanted to be spending your time.

You wished you had at least gotten a drink before you’d been corralled into the auditorium.

You closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the seat for a moment. The presentation wasn’t even for you, who would care if you weren’t paying attention?

Then you felt it, and your head snapped back up.

A small brush against your exposed skin. And without even looking down, you know exactly what it was.

Dr. Crane’s fingers were warm on your thigh, not moving, just resting against you. When he doesn’t move his hand away, when he doesn’t do anything to suggest that this action of his was an accident, your heart rate goes into overdrive because you had fantasized about him touching you since your first class with him three semesters ago and now, in a darkened theater, he was. It didn’t feel real- it couldn’t be real.

But more importantly, what did this small action of his mean for your relationship? Because this had thrust it far beyond professional, or even the platonic relationship that you had resigned yourself to.

His hand remained there for the rest of the presentation, a grounding presence that did little to actually ground you to the present because you were occupied with worrying about how to go forward from this moment. (There you go again, overanalyzing and worrying about everything.)

And then the lights came back on.

He stood up and pretended like he hadn’t just kept his hand on your bare thigh for the last fifteen minutes. You remained in your seat, barely registering that the crowd was leaving or even that the presentation was over.

“You look hungry.” He stated, pulling you out of your mind. He looked down at you and you jumped up, smiling tersely at him.

“Sure, that’s fine.” Your response wasn’t quite aligned with his statement but you didn’t care as you led the way out of the auditorium and back into the atrium. If he wasn’t going to bring up what he did, neither were you.

Being back in the crowd woke you up, bringing you out of the stupor that his touch had induced.

The chatter was louder than it had been before the presentation, the guests clearly ready to finally enjoy the refreshments and music- you could faintly hear a string quartet from the ballroom and a piano from the banquet hall. Peering into the latter, you saw crowds of people around the buffet tables and decided that you would wait until it died down to try and get any real food.

Sighing, you turned back to Dr. Crane.

“Is there anyone specifically that you want to talk to tonight?”

Then you realized that Dr. Crane was looking past you and you followed his gaze behind you. A young man, only a few years older than you, was walking through the crowd. A bit awkward, smiling tersely at everyone trying to speak with him. And people were clambering to speak with him, smiling and laughing when they saw him. He looked over at you briefly, then seemed to do a double take as he looked back.

Leaving his current conversation, a bit unceremoniously if the looks his previous conversations partners gave each other was anything to go by, he came over to the pair of you.

“Mr. Wayne.”

Dr. Crane was the first to speak, reaching across you to shake Bruce Wayne’s hand. You watched as they exchanged greetings and introductions, content to stay silent while they talked. After all, Dr. Crane said you could and you’re not even sure what you would say to Bruce Wayne, of all people.

“Nice to see you out tonight.”

“I needed some fresh air.” You couldn’t help but notice how tense the younger man was holding his shoulders. Dr. Crane, in comparison, was relaxed, not even batting an eye at the sudden conversation with the Prince of Gotham.

“I’m sure.”

There was a brief, awkward moment of silence as you looked between the pair. Bruce Wayne, though he was certainly better looking in person than in his pictures, was clearly out of his comfort zone, and you couldn’t blame him. He’d been a reclusive figure for many years, really only becoming social (which, for him, meant leaving his house every few weeks to attend an event) in the past year. Without him saying it, everyone knew it was because of the Riddler’s attempt on his life.

It was almost funny how the Riddler made the once anti-social Bruce Wayne social and you, someone who used to enjoy going out at night, into a shut-in who only left the house for school and work.

“My teaching assistant.” Dr. Crane gestured to you, and you nodded. Until you remembered that you could actually speak. You held out your hand to Mr. Wayne, giving him your name, and he grasped your palm with a firm handshake that he must have learned before he could even attend events like these. But there’s something else that his touch reminds you of, the roughness of his palm inviting and grounding, but you can’t place what it is aside from a lingering sensation of safety.

“It’s very nice to meet you.” He smiled at you, his eyes crinkling. You didn’t know if you’d ever seen a picture of him smiling like that. Not a polite smile, reserved for business partners or cameras. But a genuine smile. You couldn’t help but return it, beaming at him as you continued holding his hand.

Dr. Crane cleared his throat and you dropped Mr. Wayne’s hand, smiling nervously over at the professor. He’s looking at you strangely, in a way you’ve never seen him look at you before (and there are many strange looks he has given you). It wasn’t angry, per se, but there was certainly some unpleasant emotion simmering in his chest.

“Have a nice evening, Mr. Wayne.” He said curtly before guiding you into the other room, his hand on your shoulder, his pace quick.

“It was nice meeting you!” You spoke over your shoulder to Bruce Wayne, still smiling despite Dr. Crane’s odd behaviour.

As you walked, you resisted the urge to ask him what the hell that was all about, reminding yourself about the promise you’d made. This is going to be a fun night out and I will not spend any time worrying about silly little things.

Starting a fight with Dr. Crane would certainly ruin the evening. And besides, his answer would most likely be mundane, right? He probably hadn’t even realized that he was coming across as possessive- or dare you say, jealous- with his sudden dismissal of the younger man. Even if you were in a weird gray area relationship wise now, he didn’t own you.

You could shake other men’s hands.

He led you into the ballroom, stopping once or twice on the way to talk with colleagues that he came across. Those conversations were always short and stilted, his desire to be anywhere else clear on his face and in his language. If the other professors acknowledged you, it was with a simple nod. But they never spoke to you which was fine. Considering how Dr. Crane had acted with Bruce Wayne, you didn’t exactly relish the thought of speaking with more men, especially ones he knew professionally.

They always asked the same questions- how his classes were doing, how his research was going, how his work at the asylum was coming along, if he met any new “crazies” that he could gossip about. His answers were always good, good, and good. He declined to answer any questions about patients at the asylum, and you bristled at the language the other men used to describe them.

They’re still people, you wanted to say. Even if they killed and maimed others. But you weren’t in the mood to be accused of defending them and their actions (which you weren’t), so you kept your mouth shut.

Finally, he had no one else to speak to and you reached the ballroom.

The large windows that had covered the walls in the atrium continued in here, the ballroom overlooking the garden. You could faintly make out some people walking down the well-lit walkways outside. The string quartet that you’d heard playing earlier was set up on a small platform in the corner and quite a few couples were swaying to the music in the center of the room.

On the other side of the room was a cluster of small tables, most of them occupied. A few caterers walked around with plates of fingerfoods and trays of drinks, and you were about to grab something when Dr. Crane spoke up from beside you.

“Dance with me.”

You whipped around, staring at Dr. Crane, afraid you hadn’t heard him correctly.

“What?”

“Dance with me.” He repeated, smiling at you. “I’m bored.”

You looked down at his offered hand.

“Okay.” You returned his smile, allowing yourself to be swept onto the dancefloor. It wasn’t ballroom dancing, certainly not something out of a period piece at all. Dancing with him was really just a glorified verison of swaying back and forth. But you didn’t care because all you could focus on was his hand on your hip, your hand on his shoulder- the points where your bodies were connected.

Even though there were layers of fabric between the two of you, you could swear you felt vibrant electricity from his touch, sparks coursing through your veins as you tried to focus on everything at once. You didn’t want to forget how it all looked and felt when the morning came. You wanted to keep it in its own little bubble in your memory, preserved for all time.

“I’ve never really slow danced before.” Sure, you’d gone to school dances growing up. But you never went with anyone and slow dances were the perfect time to escape to the bathroom.

“Neither have I.” He smiled and your heart fluttered.

Maybe this would be a good moment to ask him just what his intentions were for the night, to pinpoint exactly what he wanted from you. It was forward, yes, but you were slow dancing together. It warranted questioning, especially if any prying eyes from the university saw and recognized the two of you.

He was playing a very dangerous game and you had no choice but to play with him.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you-”

“May I cut in?” A newly familiar voice broke the spell that had fallen between you and Dr. Crane, the isolated bubble you had been dancing in popping. You turned to look over your shoulder, smiling politely at Bruce Wayne.

“Of course.” You let go of Dr. Crane’s hands, speaking before he could. For a moment, the hand on your waist flexed and tightened against you like he wasn’t going to let you go but then he let go, releasing you to take Bruce Wayne’s outstretched hand. You spared one more glance at Dr. Crane, smiling as reassuringly as you could. “We can talk about it later.”

You placed your other hand on Bruce’s shoulder and he swayed you in a different direction, leading you away from Dr. Crane.

You were, admittedly, a bit starstruck. Sure, you had spoken to him earlier, but this was intimate, not something he had to do for pleasantries or to maintain face (not that he had to introduce himself to you for that. You weren’t important enough to need to meet the richest man in the city. Or for him to care how he came across to you).

The string quartet transitioned smoothly into their next song, the tempo the only thing changing. A few couples left with the change, and a few more walked onto the dancefloor. Once you were in rhythm with one another, you took the opportunity to speak with him.

“Well, Mr. Wayne, it’s nice seeing you again.”

“Please, call me Bruce.”

It had felt a bit odd to call a man who was only a handful of years older than you ‘Mr. Wayne.’ You smiled, nodding your ascent.

“Alright. Bruce. How are you enjoying your night so far?” In your ears, your voice didn’t sound like yours. It sounded too much like the other socialites there tonight and you cringed internally.

“Well, one of the last times I was at a public event like this a car almost hit me, so I think comparatively, it’s going good.”

Heart sinking, you realize he’s talking about the former Mayor’s funeral. So suddenly too and you’re not sure if he’s poking fun at it until he smiles softly. You smiled back but it faded quickly as you worried your lip between your teeth. You waited for another moment before bracing yourself to resond. “I was there, too. At the funeral.”

Well. At least the fake-socialite intonation was gone from your voice.

Genuine surprise flickers across his face before smoothing out into an empathetic but distanced frown. He doesn’t say anything, which you’re grateful for. You’re so tired of people apologizing as if they had anything to do with what happened. There was only one man who could do that and he was currently locked away in an asylum.

“Mhm, I was writing a stupid paper and when all that started happening it was… Well, it felt important to document it.” You chuckled. “As if a paper like that would be important to the historical record.”

“You never know.”

“Anyway, I had just managed to make it through the crowd of normal people-” You flashed a quick smile at Bruce, trying to show him that your comment was just a playful jab- “to the upper balcony above the main chapel when the car came crashing through, so…” You sucked your teeth, trailing off. What an absolute downer of a conversation. “Not as bad as you know… almost being hit.” Oh god, please stop talking.

His hand on your hip moves to your lower back, pressing you closer.

“So, why are you here tonight?”

“Enjoying the scenery.” You don’t miss how his eyes remained on you, and you certainly don’t miss how your cheeks heat up.

“And here I thought you were a shut-in with no social skills.” Like me.

“A lot has changed over the past year.”

The song you were swaying to ended, scattered applause moving throughout the room from those who were even aware that music was being played. The violinist of the quartet announced they were going on a break.

“What do you m-” You started to ask, but another well dressed man came up to Bruce, murmuring something to him. You overheard a snippet about donations and sighed. This event was not about you and certainly not being held so you could have a lengthy chat with the Prince of Gotham. When the man looks at you, raising an eyebrow like you were something he found on the bottom of your shoe, you sighed. “Thank you for the dance, Mr. Wayne. I’ll leave you to it.”

You turned and began walking from the dance floor, not looking back at Bruce as you began scanning the crowd for Dr. Crane. You weren’t really sure how long you and Bruce had been dancing but it couldn’t have been long enough for Dr. Crane to completely disappear, right?

You took a full wine glass off a tray from a passing waiter, taking a sip of the dark liquid as you continued walking through the crowd in search of Dr. Crane. The wine was just okay (you’re sure they could’ve afforded something better for this event, but you were also the farthest thing from a wine connossiuer) but drinking it gave you a purpose. Or at least, something to do with your hands as you weaved between well-dressed couple after well-dressed couple, searching for the man who was the reason you were here tonight. You had no one else to talk to, no goals to achieve for the night. You weren’t even sure you knew anyone else at the event.

Instead of letting your anxious thoughts take control, you took a deep gulp of the wine.

And another.

And when you realized the glass was empty, you just grabbed another one off of a different waiter, not even blinking when you took a sip and found that the drink was a different one from before. Maybe champagne.

You shrugged it off. You weren’t driving tonight, you could drink as much as you wanted.

Halfway through your current drink, you felt (or at least, acknowledged for the first time) the tell-tale twinge in your core that meant the alcohol had really started to seep into your bloodstream. And, combining your lowered inhibitions from the drinks and this sudden bout of horniness, you decided you really should look for Dr. Crane so you could do or say something you would definitely regret in the morning.

With renewed vigor in your search, you entered the large banquet hall off the side of the ballroom, tables lined with snacks that you knew wouldn’t crave your hunger. Still, you wandered closer to the food, remembering that free food was also good, if not better than free alcohol.

It was amazing, actually.

Because now you had a small plate with finger foods and desserts and a new drink and your search for Dr. Crane had morphed into a search for a place to sit. After wandering the room, you finally found a small empty table tucked away in the corner, perfectly secluded for you to enjoy your food.

And you did. But then you realized that you got too much food and you didn’t want to eat anymore, so you got up and searched for the trashcan and boy, were you wobbly on your feet now. Taking a gentle step forward like a newborn fawn, you made your way to the trash cans lined against the wall. Maybe you were more tipsy than you had realized before.

With a flourish, you dropped your half-eaten plate into the garbage. And grabbed another wine from a different waiter. (This will be my last of the night.)

A voice by your side said your name. You turned, unable to immediately place the voice to a name, finding an old professor and your previous advisor by your side. Her gray hair was pulled into a tight updo pinned to the crown of her head and her outfit was simply an upgraded version of the suit she normally wore to work. You smiled, a bit too wide. You’d always liked her- had even aced her class and had been sad when it was announced that she would no longer be the advisor for your major.

“Hi Dr. Hall!” At least you weren’t slurring.

“What in the world are you doing here, and looking so pretty?” She was smiling, her thin lips painted red and stretching over her teeth. You couldn’t help but think of a skeleton, and then immediately felt bad that you had made such an unflattering comparison in your mind.

“I’m here with Dr. Crane! I’m his assistant.” You took another sip of your wine. The more you drank, the better it tasted.

“You’re a TA? For Dr. Crane? The Dr. Crane from the Psychology department?” You were too tipsy to pick up on the disbelieving- almost incredulous- tone to her voice, the way her smile was slowly fading from her face.

“Yeah!” You winced when you heard how loud you were being, taking a moment to pull yourself back. At least you could try to seem sober around your professors. You cleared your throat before beginning to speak again, intentionally lowering your voice (probably too much). “Yes, I am. For his class on the psychology of fear.”

“I didn’t know you studied psychology.”

You nodded, a bit too enthusiastically, but you were already at your maximum focus in controlling your vocal level so you couldn’t be expected to also control your physical movements. Really, you should just be grateful that you didn’t also move your hands and spill your drink at the same time.

“Mhmm, I have a minor. Dr. Crane’s been very helpful.” Amongst other things, you barely stopped yourself from tacking on to the end of your statement. Or winking, which would have been worse. You didn’t need allegations leveled against you and Dr. Crane’s relationship, which was strictly professional.

Right?

You thought back to all of your encounters with Dr. Crane that had left your heart racing, the number of which was steadily increasing. You thought about his hand on your thigh. About the look in his eyes when you’d danced together, the possessiveness when you’d spoken to Bruce Wayne.

Your cheeks grew hot and it certainly wasn’t from the wine.

As you were pondering the true nature of your relationship, Dr. Hall gave you a concerned look and pat on the back, leaving you to your thoughts. It took you a few more moments to realize that she had left you in the first place, but then you shrugged and moved on.

You walked through the crowd, smiling at everyone you saw. It was so different from your normal behavior in Gotham’s crowds (which was to duck your head and ignore everyone) but it felt right. Like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and thrown into the sun, far away from you.

Looking down, you saw that your glass was empty, and instead of getting another you kept your promise to yourself and put the glass down on a nearby table. And you had the sudden undeniable urge to pee.

Next item on the to-do list: Go to bathroom.

part II

[jadedsnowtiger]

Tim had sent them a new video called.  "I saw this, now you have to suffer too." 

It was Robin's GoPro as he walked through a wearhouse. 

Robin was softly humming,  he walked around the corner, looking for  whatever he was searching for.

"Selina. I need to--- Oh my god!"

Tim stopped walking as the video showed that Batman had Batwoman spread out on the table under him.

"Robin!" Batman jumped, as if hiding Catwoman from view.

"That's my Mom!!" 

Tim ran from the screen, the GoPro jumping around as he ran.

Gar was laughing beside her, as Rachel looked at her phone.

"Why did I need to see that?" She asked, as she turned to Gar.

Gar nodded, laughing beside her.

"Shared, Sibling trauma." Gar nodded, as he took his phone back. "Tim doesn't want to suffer alone."

Rachel nodded, as Gar rubbed her back.

"At least it wasn't you." He reminded her.

Rachel nodded, there was a reason Damian went in the room before her whenever, she was at the mansion.

"Oh gods there is a second one!" Gar laughed, as he showed Rachel the phone.

It was CCTV of the mansion Tim was innocently walking into the kitchen, before walking off screen screaming, and running off of the kitchen, spilling his coffee as he ran.

Clark came out to check on him, his shirt half way done, as Bruce was fixing his pants, walking out to find Tim.

"My poor baby!" Rachel just looked at the screen. "Twice in one week."

"Bruce must be in heat." Gar shook his head laughing.

Rachel looked at him disturbed, as she shook her head.

"There is a third one?" Gar looked at his phone, "What the Hell, Bruce?"

A CCTV of the bedroom hallway of the Mansion, as Damian was walking with a sword down the walkway, before screaming that he would fight whoever was hurting Jason.

Damian broke the door open, as the loud music filled the hallway, before going inside. Three minutes later, a naked, scared Roy comes running out of the room, as Damian quickly chases him down the hallway. Jason followed him, although slightly limping, as Tim looked out of his bedroom, seeing the madness as he tried to get the sword from Damian.

Somehow, that video made Rachel laugh until she was crying, that was life in the Wayne Manion, and it put the Bunny Ranch to shame.

"This is your family, and I got the near virgin?" Gar teased, kissing her head. 

Rachel nodded, wiping her eyes, compared to everyone, she was the innocent one.

"It's okay, I'll keep you." Gar smiled, kissing her softly.

[erigold13261]

For some reason I think it would be rad if [IBN] played "unconventional" instruments

like an electric fan harp (aka a fan made to act like a guitar) or using CRT TVs to make sound or a barcode scanner

kinda like this video

https://youtu.be/A0VYsiMtrNE

I've seen this before! But only on tumblr! Thank you so much for sending me their youtube channel!!!

But honestly, yea, I can see them doing that. Especially since Carna does not see being in a band as a life career and just as a hobby so fae would be having a lot of fun with this instead of doing anything legitimate and conventional.

And honestly I can see Synthia having the same mentality. He would probably be so fucking done with traditional music (especially full EDM) and want to just have fun.

Both of those two have enough money that they never have to actually work hard to make it (Synthia already made his own wealth, that was not something Sharon kept from him because she didn't want any ties after he grew up, so all the money he made is his and his alone. And Carna comes from a family who would absolutely help faer no matter what so no need to ever get a job because faer family is so family-oriented that it could be seen as toxic and enabling for someone like Carna).

And then Riko I can see as having some money from family, but not nearly as rich as Carna and Synthia, as well as not having as much of a musical background as the other two so wouldn't have burnout from traditional style music. However, she absolutely is a little silly and would love playing "instruments" like that!

So yea, I can honestly see these three playing music like that video! Especially since Carna already would have some mechanical know-how since Neon would make sure all his kids have the basic ability to fix themselves (or at least know what is wrong with them and can communicate that. I would say that only Purl-Hew, and possibly Eloni and Rin, would actually know how to fix the rest of 1010 and siblings other than Neon J or special mechanics on stand by if they break down. But hey! Carna would know how to make a makeshift guitar out of a CCTV lol).