Sunday, December 18th, The Midnight Channel

[thepull_mods]

Who: The Port's Latest Shadow Televisions Stars! And Thousands of Home Viewers!
When: Midnight, Sunday, December 18th
Where: In front of your Television Sets or Streaming NV TV. (Digital Cable? You'll still get the analog effect.)
Summary: Full Plot Details Here
Warnings: Please Put 'em In the Subject Lines As Necessary, Kids?

Comments

PG-13 for suggestive themes | 1/2

[merely_a_doll]

[ The integration between moonlight and shadow bestowed life to the threshold between a balcony and a gilded, marble room. Human skin and bone gave form to a woman that took center stage, crisply delineated and defined by a white as colorless as snow. It gleamed in the sliver of teeth, revealed when lips glossed in violet drew back to revealed them tightly clenched. It sparkled in the restrained tears, welling at the corners of her eyes, and the sweat, beading at the edges of her temple, like diamonds. It swathed quivering fingers that seized her arms for support and clouded the air in a single breath as she grounded out: ]

It...hurts... [ It was a weak voice, rife with agony. Even the words sounded torn and ripped from vocal chords as if it hurt simply to choke them free. ] It hurts...p-please...help me...please...

[ Her head hung low like a prisoner sentenced for execution. Tremors fiercely traveled along her shoulders as they rose and fell with her staccato breathing. An audible sound, like a whimper or a softly murmured ‘

2/2

[merely_a_doll]

[ Her hands ascended towards her face, her fingers curved and pressed against the sides. Her back came against the banister as she inclined herself back with nearly indolent leisure

reaction;

[quadrifoliate]

[ Balthazar's isn't the only broadcast to disturb Clover's sleep tonight, it seems. When Caster's face comes on the television, she isn't sure what to make of it at first. She wants to turn the television off-- it doesn't seem right to keep watching, somehow-- but she can't make herself reach for the remote. ]

[ reaction ]

[drinkthebleach]

[By now, he knows what these television programs were and what they weren't. It wasn't the real person that he saw; it was their inner demons trying to be heard or whatever. And everyone's "shadow" seemed to be acting out like emo teenagers.

Caster's episode was just hard to watch. There's a sense of vicarious discomfort that lines the pit of his stomach as her shadow tears at her clothes and cries between statements that doesn't make much sense to him--together or on their own. He almost feels like it was happening in real time. It feels wrong to be there and not someone who knows how to handle this crying shit

[soul_scatter]

[The static appears and then resolves into a chubby-faced Japanese boy with big gray eyes and his hair in a ponytail. He's holding a fukutaichou badge of the Sixth Division of the Gotei 13. There are tears welling up in his eyes as his knuckles are white from holding it. He sniffles, wiping an arm across his nose.]

Daddy? Daddy come back. I p-p-p-promise, Daddy. I'll never miss practice again.

[His voice cracks with grief and his sobs as he keeps clutching the badge in his hands. Black hair falls in his face, as tears streak down the chubby-cheeks.

Daddy, please. Don't leave me. Mommy's gone. You can't go too. Daddy... Daddy please. I'll be good, Daddy....

[Static fades in and then out.

Now, he's a teenager. His gray eyes are still large, but now there's anger, frustration and hurt there. He's clutching a kendo sword.]

You bitch. You chose him. Him. Over your family, over me.

[Tears slowly leak out of his eyes and he dashes them away with his forearm, angry at himself and at whoever he's talking to.]

How dare you! You gave

Reaction: (Action for Hitsu if he wants)

[soul_scatter]

[Byakuya hadn't been expecting that, so soon after being released. But it seemed that the island was determined to shame him.

He stared at his NV, too shocked to do much.

Then, it clatters to the ground and he drops his head into his hands, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. He reaches over and drags Senbonzakura into his lap but doesn't move otherwise, loathing himself and hating the truth.]

Action

[icy_heavens]

[Hitsugaya is awake, of course. He keeps his weekend schedule as similar to his weekday one as possible. Kuchiki is probably one of the last people he would have expected to see subjected to these disturbing broadcasts. And disturbing is certainly the word.

[He strides into the kitchen, passing behind Kuchiki and taking note out of the corner of his eye how he’s clutching Senbonzakura. It’s not a favourable sign. He’s not completely sure what to do, and just starts brewing tea.]

If you’re thinking of doing something foolish, then don’t.

Action

[soul_scatter]

Do not dare -

[It's the most emotion anyone has seen out of Byakuya - well, excluding the de-aging incident - since before Hisana died. His jaw clenches and he clutches Senbonzakura until his knuckles turn white.

He stands up, half out of his chair, before he realizes what he's doing. Then he just collapses into his chair, his head dropping into his hand again.]

[frankengambler]

[Even as the static clears, the picture retains a grimy, fuzzy look to it, the sound wavering in and out. Stark, gaudy lights and neon signs illuminate the main hall of a casino through a layer of sleaze and smoke. The picture is framed by red and black bars and in the corner is the word “TeiaiTV” in a big, black heart. A blurred phone number, with the invitation in swirling writing to “Place Your Bets, Ladies and Gentlemen~! Calls cost $300 per minute, plus your local rate” run along the bottom

[action]

[12second_orz]

[Tonegawa sits in stunned silence as the picture drowns in static and Kaiji's face vanishes behind the sea of dots and blips. The gin and tonic in his left hand has barely been touched, and now he's certain he doesn't need it; he all but slams it down onto the table next to him, glass rattling and nearly spilling its contents, and then he flips his NV open to slam in a contact number. His fingers drum impatiently on the arm of his chair as he waits, and he mutters under his breath.]

Come on, Itou, answer me.

[He's unsure of what to make of this, and perhaps that's why he's so on edge. Context will deliver him and provide an obvious reaction.]

[action]

[frankengambler]

[Tonegawa's position oddly mirrors Kaiji's own; the broadcast has stunned him into silence, leaving him staring at the leftover white noise with his mouth hanging open. He's not sure how he should react, a myriad of emotions swirling around his mind. It was taunting him. It-

The sound of an incoming call makes him start. Without thinking or even checking who it is, he accepts it.]

[numbly] What?

[action]

[12second_orz]

[He doesn't bother to reign himself in.] What the hell do you think? What the fuck was that? Was that a joke?

The Joker (Suggestive themes, standard Joker warnings)

[he_is_wild]

[The screen is filled with flickering static and this holds for quite some time. For a while, it seems like this might be all there is, but then an image, in black and white, and still static-filled, starts to appear.

There is a man sitting on a rock in the middle of a wide river. The water rushes past him and he shivers, curled in on himself. It is raining and the water soaks the man's hair. A sound manages to crack through the static. At first, it sounds like laughter but after a few moments it becomes clear that the sound is sobbing.

The man looks up, into the rain, showing the features of the Joker. But instead of his usual, feral appearance, he seems mournful, lost, and confused. He is naked but there is no sexual suggestion to his nakedness. He is vulnerable and exposed. Human.]

They look and don't see, hear without listening.

Just look at me!

Feel me! Don't just feel me, but really feel me.

[He tips his head back and lets out a strangled cry, clutching his chest in heartache. The rain and the river drown out his sobs and

[proxysearch]

[This is something she does see, wide-eyed and watching as she gets ready to hunt her own. She doesn't even know what to say. She's always known that he's sought attention, but even this is heart-wrenching.

No. That's not quite right. It's pathetic and it's sad. He could reform himself if he tried...and he doesn't want to. He's too far gone. This need for attention, these emotions, just drive him further to madness, despair, and homicide.

She feels no sympathy, though it's a sad display to see.]

reaction;

[he_is_wild]

[Joker stares glass-eyed at the screen then rises from his beanbag with a snarl.]

Some yutz blows up my backyard and now this. What a week.

[It's wrong. He's been hearing the news but this time it's wrong. That thing that is probably slithering around out there now has nothing to do with him. He's not a victim of the world, dammit. He embraces its cruelty. This isn't funny.]

[He grabs his pistol off the rickety coffee table, steps over Ollie and makes for the heavy door of the old personnel access tunnel.]

Be right back, boys, daddy's gotta go kakk off a doppleganger.

[kingofrooks]

[ It's a strange thing, this. Bruce hates it- hates the very sight of it even as he watches every second and commits it to memory, saves each frame into the computer. He hates it with a passion that is bitter at the back of his mouth, that sits on his tongue and stops him from speaking.

Yet at the same time he can't help but be thankful. He can't help but look and look and look at each plane and angle of that face, and pick out the vulnerabilities and humanity in it. This is why he will never kill this man. There is no sympathy within him, only a kind of grim determination at the sight.

There's still something within the Joker to be saved. He has to keep hold of that. He has to believe in it. Even though it would be so much easier to simply kill him and even though he hates the very idea that someone he despises so is still human- he holds onto that thought.

Joker is human. Joker can be saved.

And Batman won't kill him because of that. Not just because of his creed. ]

[flipdatpage]

[Rip. Rip. Rip. Fade in to a close zoom of Destiny sitting in a chair with his book folded open in his lap. His cowl was down, silvered hair drawn back into a loose low ponytail. His blind eyes fixed on his work at hand. A subtle smile weaving across his features. The aspect's nimble fingers sliding between the pages and tearing them from their binding. Rip. Rip. One at a time the old, weathered parchment flutters to the ground like cast off feathers. Rip. Rip. Rip. He crinkles a few of them in his hand before tossing it away. Rip. Rip. A small, red thread peeks out from between the pages. Easily mistaken for a piece of binding. Destiny thoughtfully grabs it and the walls fold away to reveal space. Stars...galaxies. Vast and encompassing. Empty and void.

He stands on nothingness, the thread still clasped between his fingers. It spiraled forward, woven into the cosmic tapestry. He reaches out, touching the intricate web. His pondering expression darkens, slipping into a scowl.]No longer shall I observe the traceries of the galaxies as