Sounds of CCTV
@soundsofcctv.bsky.social
More people are watching TV with closed captions. Follow along as we explore how sound is described. Fan submissions welcome; I can’t watch everything!
A traveler walks along a road, guitar strapped to their back, headlights occasionally sweeping past. Spacey folk music plays—a blend of soft strumming, reverb-drenched harmonies and a whisper of synth that feels like starlight turns the scene lonely and limitless, like the sky is humming along #Minx
November 11, 2025 at 8:36 PM
A traveler walks along a road, guitar strapped to their back, headlights occasionally sweeping past. Spacey folk music plays—a blend of soft strumming, reverb-drenched harmonies and a whisper of synth that feels like starlight turns the scene lonely and limitless, like the sky is humming along #Minx
Beneath the glassy surface, the currents throb with strange human magic. Harsh, overwhelming synth music drones from the sunken speakers above, pulsing through the water like a storm in my bones. It tangles in my hair, rattles my scales, and makes the whole ocean taste like metal. #UmbrellaAcadamy
August 11, 2025 at 10:42 PM
Beneath the glassy surface, the currents throb with strange human magic. Harsh, overwhelming synth music drones from the sunken speakers above, pulsing through the water like a storm in my bones. It tangles in my hair, rattles my scales, and makes the whole ocean taste like metal. #UmbrellaAcadamy
The tall humans toss the strange, jiggly orb — it explodes mid-leap, and slo-mo squirting sounds fill the air. Cool droplets land on my whiskers. I lick them. Not fish. Disappointing. I chase the biggest splash anyway. #ClosedCaptions #bb27
August 8, 2025 at 5:02 AM
The tall humans toss the strange, jiggly orb — it explodes mid-leap, and slo-mo squirting sounds fill the air. Cool droplets land on my whiskers. I lick them. Not fish. Disappointing. I chase the biggest splash anyway. #ClosedCaptions #bb27
In the gilt ballroom, a hush fell—then the band exploded. A cornet riff tore through the velvet air, sharp and wicked. Fans froze mid-flutter. Teacups rattled. Even Lady Hathersby’s toe betrayed her, tapping once beneath layers of silk and disapproval.
July 31, 2025 at 11:15 PM
In the gilt ballroom, a hush fell—then the band exploded. A cornet riff tore through the velvet air, sharp and wicked. Fans froze mid-flutter. Teacups rattled. Even Lady Hathersby’s toe betrayed her, tapping once beneath layers of silk and disapproval.
June 14, 2025 at 12:44 AM
Alluring vocalization, often sexualized or diminished under patriarchy, is reclaimed by feminism as a form of power and self-expression. A woman’s voice is not for others’ pleasure but a tool of agency, resistance, and identity. Embracing its allure is a radical act of autonomy. #Netflix #Sirens
May 27, 2025 at 6:00 AM
Rolled up to the abandoned mall, board in hand, crew behind me. Place looked wrecked — broken glass, graffiti. Dramatic, ominous electronic music plays from somebody’s busted speaker. Whole thing felt sketch, like we were about to drop into some no-turning-back kinda mission. #BattleCamp #Netflix
April 28, 2025 at 4:37 AM
Rolled up to the abandoned mall, board in hand, crew behind me. Place looked wrecked — broken glass, graffiti. Dramatic, ominous electronic music plays from somebody’s busted speaker. Whole thing felt sketch, like we were about to drop into some no-turning-back kinda mission. #BattleCamp #Netflix
In the hidden lounges of Seraphine’s Court, where whispered deals shape empires, ethereal sitar music coils through the air—lulling rivals into a daze while the true players move unseen, slipping promises and betrayals like daggers beneath velvet words.
April 27, 2025 at 8:35 PM
In the hidden lounges of Seraphine’s Court, where whispered deals shape empires, ethereal sitar music coils through the air—lulling rivals into a daze while the true players move unseen, slipping promises and betrayals like daggers beneath velvet words.
On a rooftop at dusk, the city buzzes below. Chill percussive music taps along—hand drums, chimes, and someone’s neighbor trying to join in with a rogue tambourine. Nobody stops them. It’s too chill for drama.
April 26, 2025 at 6:16 PM
On a rooftop at dusk, the city buzzes below. Chill percussive music taps along—hand drums, chimes, and someone’s neighbor trying to join in with a rogue tambourine. Nobody stops them. It’s too chill for drama.
Elira pressed her fingers to the resonance stone, releasing breathy oscillating tones that shimmered through the cavern. The sound stirred the ancient glyphs, each wavering note a whisper of forgotten magic. When the last tone faded, the stone answered with a pulse of light and a low, echoing hum.
April 22, 2025 at 3:41 AM
Elira pressed her fingers to the resonance stone, releasing breathy oscillating tones that shimmered through the cavern. The sound stirred the ancient glyphs, each wavering note a whisper of forgotten magic. When the last tone faded, the stone answered with a pulse of light and a low, echoing hum.
“Mock squealing” is the exaggerated, often high-pitched sound people make to playfully imitate fear, excitement or surprise—usually in a sarcastic or funny way. It lives somewhere between parody and play and is often accompanied by flailing hands or an exaggerated expression to really sell the bit.
April 20, 2025 at 4:07 AM
“Mock squealing” is the exaggerated, often high-pitched sound people make to playfully imitate fear, excitement or surprise—usually in a sarcastic or funny way. It lives somewhere between parody and play and is often accompanied by flailing hands or an exaggerated expression to really sell the bit.
That guitar riff was so sick, it called out of work to stay in bed with a thermometer in its strings. It shredded so hard, it gave the amp a fever and made the drummer question his life choices. Honestly, if that riff walked into a hospital, the other patients would get up and leave out of respect.
April 14, 2025 at 1:19 AM
That guitar riff was so sick, it called out of work to stay in bed with a thermometer in its strings. It shredded so hard, it gave the amp a fever and made the drummer question his life choices. Honestly, if that riff walked into a hospital, the other patients would get up and leave out of respect.
Smoke choked the battlefield as the sun bled through the haze, casting shadows over fallen soldiers. Amid the chaos, a lone fife wailed, its dramatic melody cutting through the roar of cannons. The piercing notes stirred the weary troops, a haunting call to one final, desperate charge.
March 23, 2025 at 8:03 PM
Smoke choked the battlefield as the sun bled through the haze, casting shadows over fallen soldiers. Amid the chaos, a lone fife wailed, its dramatic melody cutting through the roar of cannons. The piercing notes stirred the weary troops, a haunting call to one final, desperate charge.
Muffled upbeat gospel music drifts through the walls, somewhere between a Sunday service and a dance party. The bass thumps with holy enthusiasm, tambourines shake and every so often, a passionate hallelujah bursts through, as if someone just won the spiritual lottery.
March 23, 2025 at 8:02 PM
Muffled upbeat gospel music drifts through the walls, somewhere between a Sunday service and a dance party. The bass thumps with holy enthusiasm, tambourines shake and every so often, a passionate hallelujah bursts through, as if someone just won the spiritual lottery.
Chaotic klezmer music is a whirlwind of wailing clarinets, screeching violins, and blaring brass, tumbling through frantic tempos and clashing harmonies. The rhythm lurches unpredictably, held together by the wheezing accordion and thumping bass, creating a joyous, reckless storm of sound.
March 15, 2025 at 12:09 AM
Chaotic klezmer music is a whirlwind of wailing clarinets, screeching violins, and blaring brass, tumbling through frantic tempos and clashing harmonies. The rhythm lurches unpredictably, held together by the wheezing accordion and thumping bass, creating a joyous, reckless storm of sound.
He leaned against a pillar, eyes sharp beneath his hat. The scent of coffee and newsprint was in the air as the announcement chimes rang out, three notes echoing melodically through the terminal. The voice droned on, but he had already spotted his mark—a dark figure clutching a bag. The hunt was on.
February 28, 2025 at 4:33 AM
He leaned against a pillar, eyes sharp beneath his hat. The scent of coffee and newsprint was in the air as the announcement chimes rang out, three notes echoing melodically through the terminal. The voice droned on, but he had already spotted his mark—a dark figure clutching a bag. The hunt was on.
The circus tent echoed with maniacal laughter as the clown crossed the stage, his painted grin wide. His oversized shoes slapped against the floor, each step amplifying the eerie silence. The audience sat frozen in uneasy anticipation, unsure if his joy was real or something more sinister.
January 22, 2025 at 5:05 PM
The circus tent echoed with maniacal laughter as the clown crossed the stage, his painted grin wide. His oversized shoes slapped against the floor, each step amplifying the eerie silence. The audience sat frozen in uneasy anticipation, unsure if his joy was real or something more sinister.
The fire whooshes to life, nearly singing off my eyebrows. He smirks, unfazed, lounging like some kind of model. “Smooth,” he teases, while I pat my forehead to make sure I still have hair. The flames crackle, the mood almost romantic—if not for the fact that I now smell slightly of burnt dignity.
January 19, 2025 at 6:23 PM
The fire whooshes to life, nearly singing off my eyebrows. He smirks, unfazed, lounging like some kind of model. “Smooth,” he teases, while I pat my forehead to make sure I still have hair. The flames crackle, the mood almost romantic—if not for the fact that I now smell slightly of burnt dignity.
The phonograph needle scratches harshly against the old record, rough as a tumbleweed in a dust storm. Jed winced and lifted the arm, but the damage was done—the tune now skipped like boot tracks on a saloon floor. With a sigh, he ran a finger over the groove, reckonin’ time had worn this one down.
January 18, 2025 at 4:44 AM
The phonograph needle scratches harshly against the old record, rough as a tumbleweed in a dust storm. Jed winced and lifted the arm, but the damage was done—the tune now skipped like boot tracks on a saloon floor. With a sigh, he ran a finger over the groove, reckonin’ time had worn this one down.
Steve imitates blood gushing with his hands, flailing dramatically as the group stares in awkward silence. “I’m dying!” he cries, collapsing onto the couch. “No, Steve,” someone mutters, “you’re just ruining game night.”
January 16, 2025 at 3:21 AM
Steve imitates blood gushing with his hands, flailing dramatically as the group stares in awkward silence. “I’m dying!” he cries, collapsing onto the couch. “No, Steve,” someone mutters, “you’re just ruining game night.”