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“Relax. You look gorgeous.”
“People are looking at us.” “Yeah, they’re jealous about my hot date.”
“May I have this dance?” “Only if you don’t mind me stepping all over your toes.” “It’ll be worth it.”
“You look…wow.”
“Sorry, I don't normally dress like this..." "Well, you should. You're stunning."
"I've never slow danced before." "That's okay. Just lean on me and follow my lead."
"You smell fantastic." "Thanks. I broke out the expensive perfume/cologne for the occasion. I was also kind of hoping you'd notice."
"When did you learn to dance like that?" "Oh, it's just something I picked up on over the years. Try to keep up."
"I feel stupid in this dress/tux." "You certainly don't look stupid." "What was that?" "Nothing."
"Why don't you dress like this more often? I could get used to this look."
"Here, take my jacket. You're freezing." "No, it's fine. It looks better on you, anyway." "Funny. I was going to say it looked better on you."
"It might just be the champagne hitting, but god I could kiss you right now."
"We're running late; can you zip this up for me?" "Actually, I'd rather unzip it. What's a few more minutes?"
"You're, by far, the hottest one at this stupid gala; and it's not even close."
Don't we all love some chaotic siblings shenanigans at the gala?
Ah! The annual Wayne gala...
Every year, Bruce Wayne attempts to throw a normal gala.
You, know. The kind every other billionaire throws.
But somehow
Somehow
Something weird happens.
Whether Damian lets Batcow into the ballroom, or Steph sets off the sprinkler system, or (God forbid) Jason mixes laxatives into the cake; something always goes wrong.
And. It. Is. Always. His. Kids'. Fault.
It's become a running joke in the media!
"The Wayne Kids at it again!!! Read their latest gala antics below!"
Bruce just wants to jump into that bottomless pit in the Batcave...
Why WHY are his... lovely children like this? Can't they just give him some peace.
Of course not, Dick is sitting on the chandelier and everyone is staring.
Dick waves at him.
He can only stare blankly until Tim comes over and hands him a cup of coffee, Tim holding one himself.
Not really a typical gala drink, but he deserves it. Takes a big drink and almost spits it out. He give Tim and incredulous look.
The coffee is spiked.
He can't tell if it has monster, whisky, or a fucking 5 hour energy in it though.
Tim just shrugs and takes the cup back.
"More for me"
Cass walks over and gives him a pity pat on the shoulder.
God help him.
He loves these kids.
But God help him...
So you know how some beloved childhood favorites (ie, Hello Kitty, the Smurfs, etc.) Are described as being three apples tall?
But the question is- what apple? Like, what specific apple? Could be random, yes. Am I crazy to think this? Also yes.
But it's just bugging me since they never specify the apple!
Apples come in all sizes and shapes, right? And that also includes height and stackability. So what apple would be a reasonable apple to measure our beloved Smurf friends or Kitty companion? Out of curiosity?
Don’t fucking look away from Rafah, don’t look away, if you are willfully looking away then you should be ashamed of yourself.
Fuck the Met Gala, it means nothing but a distraction for those of you who are willingly looking away.
The Palestinians need our attention, they need our support, they need us to witness and remember and help when it is asked for and when we can.
All Eyes on Rafah, All Eyes on Palestine!