EVENT: That Stuff Never Winds Up in a Pocket, Honest (July 2023)

[citycenter]

THAT STUFF NEVER WINDS UP IN A POCKET, HONEST.

THE THINGS I GAVE YOU. » THE BANK — INTRODUCTORY NOTES District 2 is open, bringing with it access to new and interesting locations—including the city's main bank branch. The bank is a large building with a stone exterior, wrought iron grating on the windows, and large, heavy metal doors that take surprisingly little effort to open, their hinges silent and well-oiled. Early in the day on July 19, characters in the vicinity of the bank will hear first a low, metallic creaking sound from inside the building, like metal straining against metal. This is followed by the sharper noise of locks disengaging, and then the large, heavy doors on the front of the building swing open slightly, enough to let a person through. Directly inside the doors is the bank lobby, and beyond that is the main banking floor, with elegant marble flooring and dimly lit chandeliers. It would appear that this was once the main commercial bank of the city, although it is now completely empty, with no tellers behind the counters and no cash in any of the drawers. You may rifle through the tills and filing cabinets to your heart's content, but similar to the files in City Hall, there is no useful information to be found—all the papers are blank, or are empty forms without any personally identifying information. There are no monetary devices to be found either; this is, after all, not a city that operates on a cash system, so there are no coins or paper bills in any of the tills or, indeed, anywhere within the bank. What you might be able to find, though, is a rack of delicate, burnished brass keys on a wall toward the back of the main banking hall. Each of these keys is attached to a stamped metal keychain bearing a name on one side and a number on the other. Some of these may be names you recognize, and some of them may not, but they are all names belonging to current residents of the city, and each key corresponds to a safety deposit box within the vault at the back of the building. Can you remember what you stored in that box for safekeeping? Maybe you had better go find out. At the back of the main banking hall is a vault secured with a large circular metal door. The door is currently unlocked and propped open; it can be closed, but cannot be locked (intentionally, anyway) from either the inside or the outside. The vault contains row upon row of safety deposit boxes, each locked. Participating characters who are in possession of a key can open their own safety deposit box, but it is not currently possible to force open any safety deposit box that does not belong to them. After August 1, players will be able to use their safety deposit boxes to store their own belongings, and break-ins will become possible with prior player permission and appropriate consequences. Below sections detail the safety deposit boxes for both choose-your-own-adventure players and randomized players! Please see the randomized matches for this event HERE. JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS IT'S TRUE, PEOPLE TAKE THINGS BUT RARELY. » SAFETY DEPOSIT BOXES — A SELF-GUIDED TOUR For some of you, getting into your safety deposit box is quite straightforward. You take your key from the rack behind the teller's counter and make your way back through the building and into the vault. It's cool inside, the temperature well-regulated and the air dry. On the walls are rows upon rows of safety deposit boxes, and it may take you a moment to find the one that corresponds to the number stamped on your key. Does that number mean anything to you? It may, or it may not. When you find your box, it takes very little effort to open it. A slide of your key, a quick turn, and the safety deposit box's door springs open to reveal the metal container within. You remove the metal box from the wall and bring it over to the table in the center of the room, clearly placed there for this express purpose. Maybe there are others around, or maybe you're alone. Do you remember yet, what it was you put in here? Well, there's no time like the present to check. You open the safety deposit box to find—something that shouldn't be there. It's yours, that much you're sure of, but you didn't bring it with you to the city. You reach into the box to pick it up, and the surge of memory is immediate, sending your mind back to your strongest memory associated with the item in your hand. Then the vault door swings shut, trapping you inside with whoever else has the misfortune of sharing the vault with you right now. No matter what force you try, the door won't open again. There doesn't appear to even be a mechanism that unlocks the door from the inside, and from within several feet of metal and stone, no one on the outside will be able to hear you shout. It seems hopeless—how long can anyone last, trapped in a place like this? Should you turn back to the open safety deposit box, you might notice a slip of paper resting on the bottom. The paper looks aged, like it's been in the box for quite some time, and in printed text it reads: "Nothing is yours. It is to use. It is to share. If you will not share it, you cannot use it." Maybe it means you should let another hold the item you've retrieved from the box… or maybe it means you should share the weight of memory. Try to interpret the meaning in whatever way you can. But should you decide to unburden yourself, and share with someone else the weight of the item you're holding in your hands, you may find that there's a means of escape after all. Once you free yourself from the vault, for the next several days you find yourself feeling rather honest, like you may not be able to stop yourself from confessing the truth about the item you now carry… Characters who wish to participate in the event, but who do not wish to randomize the contents of their safety deposit boxes, can open their safety deposit boxes to find an emotionally significant item belonging to the character—player's choice as to what the item is. The only guidelines are that it should be small enough to fit reasonably in a pocket and may not have any magical or weapon properties. Similarly, players are able to choose the memories associated with the items in the safety deposit boxes. The vault door will remain closed until the characters in the vault explain to each other the significance of their items and the memory associated with them, at which point it the vault mechanisms will disengage and the door will swing open as if it had never closed to begin with. However, for the four days following the event, characters who carry their safety deposit box item on their person will feel oddly compelled to tell other characters about its significance and meaning. JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS A CRASH-SITE IS SACRED, WE'RE FAITHFUL. » SAFETY DEPOSIT BOXES — A JOINT VENTURE For others of you, the contents of the safety deposit box may be considerably more disconcerting. You also take your safety deposit box key from the rack behind the bank teller's counter and make your way back through the building and into the vault. It's cool inside, the temperature well-regulated and the air dry. On the walls are rows upon rows of safety deposit boxes, and it may take you a moment to find the one that corresponds to the number stamped on your key. Does that number mean anything to you? It may, or it may not. When you find your box, it takes very little effort to open it. A slide of your key, a quick turn, and the safety deposit box's door springs open to reveal the metal container within. You remove the metal box from the wall and bring it over to the table in the center of the room, clearly placed there for this express purpose. Maybe there are others around, or maybe you're alone. Do you remember yet, what it was you put in here? Well, there's no time like the present to check. You open the safety deposit box to find—wait, what is that? It certainly doesn't belong to you. Tucked inside the safety deposit box alongside the item is a slip of paper with another name on it, as well as a cryptic message: "Nothing is yours. It is to use. It is to share. If you will not share it, you cannot use it." The item isn't yours, but it does appear to belong to another resident of the city. Maybe your safety deposit boxes somehow got mixed up? It seems like it would be a good idea to find this person and return their property to them. Whether you encounter the owner of the item in the vault or elsewhere in the city, when it comes time to hand the item over, two things happen. One—the doors are locked tight, refusing to allow either you or the item's owner out until you both understand what the item is and what it means to the other. To unburden your heart is the only way to free yourself. And two—as the owner of the item explains its significance, you find yourself oddly captivated, resonating strongly with whatever emotion the item's owner most closely associates with it. You may not be able to see the memory that the other person describes, but you can certainly feel the emotions they felt—after all, the easiest way to unburden oneself is to share the load with another. Isn't that right? Once you free yourself from your enthralled state, and once you have your own belongings returned to you, for the next several days you find yourself feeling rather honest, like you may not be able to stop yourself from confessing the truth about the item you now carry… Characters who opted to randomize the contents of their safety deposit box during the plotting post, or who plotted a joint experience with another character, will open their safety deposit boxes to find a small, non-magical but emotionally significant item belonging to another player character in the city. They will need to find the owner of that item and return it to them—this can either be inside the bank vault or in another location within the city. Regardless of where the meeting takes place, the character holding the item will find themselves unable to leave until the character who owns the item explains its significance; as they do, the holder of the item will find themselves swept up in the emotional highs and lows of the memories associated with that item, allowing them to share all of the feelings, regrets, joys, griefs, and rages that the owner experiences in the telling. Additionally, for the four days following the event, characters who carry their safety deposit box item on their person will feel oddly compelled to tell other characters about its significance and meaning. JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS WILDCARD. The city is by no means small, and there are plenty of things for you to see. There's no rush in exploring, so feel free to take your time looking around and peering into various nooks and crannies and alleyways—and don't worry, you're not very likely to find anything peering back. If none of the above prompts appeal, feel free to check out the Locations and Maps pages and write your own freestyle prompt using one or many of the available locations. This month's event headers come from "The Things" and "The Gatherer," two poems by Brendan Constantine. The text of the paper slip comes from Ursula K. LeGuin's The Dispossessed. JUMP TO TOP ↑

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EVENT QUESTIONS.

[citycenter]

[metafictions]

Can characters destroy or get rid of their items? If so, is there any limit on this happening over the 4 days characters are compelled to talk about the items?

(all open)

[furibund]

🌌 I. BANK-BUSTING

[ A new area of the city means more of their prison to investigate. While she's doubtful there'll be any clues worth while it doesn't stop her from looking. The too elegant building earns a scoff on first look. It's big, ornate, and in a different time too easy to break into — at least by the opinion of a space-faring alien. How they protected anything around here is beyond her. Even the computers they do have around are lack-luster, Tony Stark and the Avenger's Compound had more security and better tech than this place does. ]

[ That's what makes her think that whatever holds them here it can't be something technologically related. Magic, perhaps, an anomaly that it is. ]

[ Nebula spends some time looking around the bank, but just as she thought any paperwork or the like is empty. Whatever means they had for money, long gone. The only thing of note is a wall. A wall that makes her stop and pause at the sight of a name. Someone familiar and she passes it over until her own is found and she glowers at it with a rough turn of her head, bemusement crossing her features: ]

What the hell is this.

[ She was under know illusion that this place didn't somehow keep a track of all of them. After all, didn't it force them to do that god-forsaken survey? If there was any proof that it did something with it, it was staring them all right in the face now. ]

🪐 II. VAULT HOPPING (CHOOSE)

[ Eventually, after any discussions are had, it's time to bite the proverbial bullet and see what exactly these keys lead to. Nothing good, she tells herself. Definitely not hundreds of thousands of units, not in a place where money is seemingly meaningless. She thinks she's prepared for whatever it is in a place that seems to covet it's anti-harm policy. Of course, she's not.]

[ The interaction goes one of two ways: (a) Nebula is simply checking out the vault as someone else is and when they open the box the vault door slams shut. Or (b) She discreetly - or as discreetly as one can - opens the box and freezes at the contents... It's nothing special, just some football made out of scrap paper. But she doesn't need the rushing of the memory, of twenty-one days and meetings after, to remind her of it's meaning. ]

[ Still, it's just a stupid piece of scrap paper and the person who made it is long dead. ]

[ In either option, she's quick to make it to the door and bang the metal fist into the vault - hard, like it would open if she did (it doesn't, of course, and thankfully the metal is durable enough it doesn't shatter immediately). And she rounds on the other person, whoever it is, and demands with acid in her voice and a snarl: ]

What did you do?

[ Look, it's not their fault. It's not either of their fault, but her first instinct in this is to fight. I'm sorry. She'll probably feel bad and roughly apologize in a few moments, depending. ]

☄️ III. AFTER

[ She had half the mind to leave the stupid scrapball behind. It was pointless to hold onto something that had disappeared long ago. Maybe it's the fact that there was meaning it and this place had found it - brought it here - that had her bring it with her to find a way to take back. Not for any emotionalistical issue, but because it was evidence. Information they might need for later, about why this particular thing or that appeared. No, don't ask her to logic that she could just say it was there. She won't. ]

[ So she takes it with her to return to their stupid apartment - it's not home, she won't call it that. And it's with her for those few hours after the bank opens and it's retrieved (but only that). She feels some kind of unnerving bubbling in her throat, a want to talk about something. Nebula never wants to talk about things - certainly not her feelings or anything in between. So it just makes her slowly more and more agitated. ]

[ Especially the more the growing urge to talk becomes significant that she might be anywhere: On the train back, stopping in the convenience store, passing in the street that she stops and huffs at whoever is passing: ]

I don't want to talk to you.

[ Thank you... Thank you Nebula. ]

🚀 IV. IN THE OPEN

[ In the days after, she doesn't carry the item with her anymore. It doesn't mean she stops what she was doing before. Peter and her had agreed that they needed supplies, information, and allies. The only way to do that was to play nice and so far she had done about as well as she expected — which was not manage it well at all. If the growling at strangers was anything to go by. ]

[ Still, she spends her time investigating and gathering. And when someone looks like they're not busy, giving half a glance before sighing. It's not a long suffering thing, but the sound of someone who's telling themselves they better try. Eventually, she does approach, a foreboding figure who looks like she's on a mission without a smile on her features. Or her eyes, but those... well, they can't exactly show emotion can they? ]

I'd like to speak to you.

[ It's gruff directness and then she glances away, half clearing her throat and adding: ] ... If you have a moment.

☄️ V. OOC NOTES

[ Please feel free to respond to whatever prompts you want! I'm happy to take multiple vault prompts through the power of nebulous RP time. If you would like a custom prompt please feel free to make your own and I'll follow up! If you want to discuss more please feel free to PM me here or hopewillbloom (plotting for me is a lot easier on place's like plurk where I feel less formal). Even if we didn't plot on the OOC plotting anyone is welcome to tag!! ]

(closed) peter

[furibund]

[ The irritation that had lingered with her from the bank to their shared apartment is in full-force by the time she swings the door open and slams it shut. The wall the door is attached to shutters at the force and if she paid attention she'd... probably have heard one of the paintings from the last residents fall to the ground. There's glass near the door now, but she'll deal with that later. ]

[ It's one thing to remember. She hasn't forgotten that man or the near month they were trapped together in space, thinking they'd probably die there with no results to show for it. Thanos had won and it would have stayed that way. There's a loneliness and comradery that comes attached with those memories. She feels it distinctly, the change from the Nebula that was the Daughter of Thanos and the one who would become a Guardian. It hadn't started then, but that was the first time she'd felt truly free of those weights.]

[ To know what winning was, what fun was. And the strange feeling of being praised. It was - a moment. ]

[ So to have it put in front of her with some strange feeling she should tell other people about it... That's a problem in and of itself. The sensible part of her says she should keep it, just lock it back up. The less sensible part - the more emotional - tells her to throw it away and never look back. And it sits on the table for a while with her in a chair, staring at it as she might an enemy she needs to take down. ]

[ Before finally giving a growl of frustration, age-old in its irritation, picking it up between her fingers and... flicking it into the open trash can at the other end of the room. The satisfaction of doing so isn't fully lost from her annoyance, but it is by the door to the apartment opening in full view of it at exactly that moment — ]

Tsunayoshi Sawada | Katekyou Hitman Reborn

[theskyaccepts]

A - Locked in

[ Tsuna gazes up at the bank with trepidation.

A new location always brings questions and somehow Tsuna doesn't think he's going to find any answers here, if trends are to be trusted. Banks aren't something he's had a lot to deal with. His parents always dealt with the finances and with the way Tsuna's luck usually worked, entering a bank would likely trigger a robbery that he would either be called upon to stop or encourage. And more likely the latter, if Reborn had anything to say about it.

But standing around looking nervous wasn't going to get him anywhere, so he wanders in.

By this point he should probably be used to finding an empty building but it's still unsettling and so his guard is up. Though, it might not look it since Tsuna also looks nervous, shoulders up by his ears, back slightly hunched. He does find the keys, does find his name, is definitely not sure he likes that, but maybe there are answers.

The deposit box is heavy, but it's really only the weight of the box. Otherwise it's mostly empty, save for the small, worn omamori charm inside. Tsuna's hand immediately goes to his jacket, to an inside pocket and the realization that the charm wasn't there. (Even though it should have been, it's always with him, he keeps it close). He's so shocked to find the charm that he almost misses the vault door swinging shut, only reaching it as the lock mechanism clicks loudly.]

Hie? I...I think it's locked!

B - Sentimental Stories

[Now that he has his charm back, Tsuna is unwilling to really let it go. He often has it in his hand, or close by in a pocket and he checks for it regularly. It's a connection to home, and it scares him how much he almost forgot that. That's not something he's supposed to forget.

So, it's not that odd to see Tsuna looking at his charm as he makes his way through his errands or just in exploring. Might as well start familiarizing himself with this new district.

But, even that can get lonely, and unnerving, so he'll probably look with relief at the first person he sees. And wander over with a wave and a smile.]

A-are you exploring to?

[ooc: urbaninja or hit up Tsuna's plotting post for plotting or if you want a description of what the charm means to him]

b

[fanstheflames]

Just getting my exercise in!

[ ... Because Tsuna appears to have caught her mid-jog, not that Tsuruno seems to mind having been called out to. It's true, this is a newer area to check out, but she's still pretty new herself. ]

Not that exploring's a bad thing.

[bemist]

[ BANK BUSINESS (or lack thereof) ]

[ See, the problem with Gebura is that she continues to not trust a damned thing. And so she'll check out the bank when the door creaks open, diligently checking the file cabinets with an air of resignation as though she expects to find nothing (and she's right!), and she'll even pick up her key!

... And then pointedly not go anywhere near the vault, not yet, preferring to observe for now, it seems.

Make contact with her, whether you're heading for the vault or staggering out of it, and she'll idly tilt her head. For some reason, she's got a few dark shadows under her eyes, as though she hasn't been sleeping well. ]

This whole thing just sounds like some kind of trap to me.

[ CLOSED TO MIDNIGHT. ]

[ So why is Gebura inside of a fast-food restaurant with an obnoxiously garish child's play area? Is she really craving a burger that badly?

Not really, no, but she's stepped inside anyway, to apparently just chill inside for a minute in a place where no self-respecting person would think to duck inside. Maybe. Who knows how some people think here, but with all the chaos she's noticed from people finding their boxes and their contents by now, she sure is glad she didn't actually open hers and went about her business!

Surely that will in no way bite her in the ass! ]

[ SOME RANDOM PARK (cw: some eye body horror if you pick this one ]

[ She did not escape The Box. The Box came for her. And this will either be the first or second day of this nonsense, because after that, she's going to not be carrying Certain Things around. For the time being, her hand is shoved deep into the pocket of the long jacket she's got on, her other hand clutching at a cigarette like she will legitimately murder anyone who comments on it. She might.

She's also sitting on a park bench, eyes narrowed, and if you make eye contact with her, she exhales a plume of smoke. ]

Think we're past the point of assuming this place is worth lowering your guard for.

[ Because personally, she hates this place even more now?

WANNA SHARE ITEM STORIES, FRIEND?? ]

[ OOC: wildcard if you want, or pm me if you want something else, I'm simple! ]

jaws theme

[unrequite]

[ Midnight is off to deliver his first item while he waits for a reply for the individual missing a jar of sugar; he now knows that Miss Gebura does a lot of patrolling, and... Well, while he hasn't stalked her — absolutely, certainly not, especially not after the way they parted last time — he does have eyes and a particularly good head for locations and times. Miss Gebura's as strict about routine as he is. He has, thus far, used this information to make his way around her.

But here he is, crossing paths with her, at the right time, in an area the he knows he's seen Miss Gebura favor, and the burger restaurant... Well, it's on her path, but it's definitely not a place one would think to look for a serious adult lady with a few secrets to keep. It's a good guess on his part. An educated one.

Right. Just go in, check if the movement in the window was actually her, and hope the doors don't lock randomly this time so he can make a polite exit. (He's perfectly aware that they will, but knowing and hoping are two different things.)

He opens the side entrance to the playplace, closes it behind him, and hears the lock click in place. Welp. ]

There goes that bet. Miss Gebura?

[ At least he knows that she's here for sure, now. He glances around, the small paper gift bag hanging from his hand. ]

[unrequite]

[ Once Midnight's letter is returned, he will very willingly carry it around with him! The locations below are just suggestions, feel free to make up your own or pm me for your own starter! ]

a. Walking

[ If one hasn't made specific plans with Midnight (and people rarely do seem to make plans here — understandable, still disappointing), the only real way to catch him on any given day is to look outside and spot him going somewhere. Or coming back from something. He spends several hours in the day at City Hall, but it looks like if he's not occupied at the gym or poking around restaurants in the area, he's walking very briskly somewhere.

He does smile easily if he spots someone he knows, though. And his letter is sticking out of his pocket... ]

Fancy running into you here. Did you miss me?

b. Park Bench

[ The weather in this city is so mild that one could be forgiven the temptation to take a nap in some sunny spot in the park. As long as the eerie feeling of being watched, like, constantly doesn't stop you, why not, right?

This appears to be Midnight's motivation here, except he is laying down on this bench as though he had never experienced the concept of "sleep" before and was working off a vague impression of needing to be horizontal for the process. He's... either face down or sideways. It counts as both from this angle, honestly. His entire face is smushed into the seat as though he tripped and fell face first into the seat and just never bothered to get up. His legs are splayed out and in the path. It honestly looks like he bellyflopped and somehow didn't sustain any personal injury.

Did... did he pass out here after yet another bout of drunkenness? Either way, he does look a bit silly. Wake him up, save his dignity. Or, uh, tie his hair into pigtails. Either one works. Just... just don't take the letter. He really, really would like to keep it safe. ]

c. Bank

[ He got here pretty late. He's in no rush, so it'll be quite easy to run into him staring at a jar of sugar in mild confusion. He has his hand terminal in his other hand, staring at the names in the common directory... ]

I wonder if this person bakes...?

d. Wildcard

i'm very uncreative please just run over him with a shopping cart. Will match both action brackets and prose!

@thelastb1

[unrequite]

[ After the debacle with the ball pit, Midnight is trying to make sure that wherever his next handoff happens, it doesn't trap him with someone who clearly would like to be away from the situation. Less because he doesn't want to calm another person down — he has patience for days — and more because he doesn't like the idea of someone else being trapped anywhere with him. Doesn't sit right with him, honestly.

So he agreed to meet R0-GR at the park, but he did completely fail to remember to buy something to drink today — no time to eat, just too busy — so he stops by a small convenience store just at the edge of the park, not far from the promised meeting place, to pick up a bottle of water. There's no way his recipient is going to just randomly walk in literally the two minutes he needs to run in, get his water, and run back out. No chance at all of getting trapped in this convenience store. Right? ]

monts | original

[nerine]

☕ Name Unlock — Outside the Vault

[The young woman with blue-green eyes and an airy disposition is scanning the keys toward the back of the main banking hall. Like so many of her other fellow residents, she's been exploring the bank that has finally opened up. It's about what she expected when it comes to any paperwork — nothing revealing, no banking history, credit, deposits, etcetera; nothing. Alright, keep your secrets.

But the keys are proving interesting and she grins at whoever is close to her.]

I'm just trying to guess whether I'm going to find my name on one of the keys or not and if it's going to be my name or my real name.

What about you? What's your name?

☕ Then We Took Too Many Shots - Inside the Vault

[To her surprise, the box she removes is light, as if there's barely anything in it at all. But there's a rolling sound something like the faint tinkling of glass. Monts opens it up to find...

And it's a bottle of a shot of whiskey.]

... Okay?

[She doesn't move to pick it up just yet though there's something about the shot that is stirring a certain memory within her. If you're within her vicinity and see the shot, she'll just remark:]

Sorry, they only gave me one bottle so not much to share. Do you have anything more interesting in your box?

[And then she takes the shot bottle in her palm...]

☕ Coffee Break - Sharing Afterward

[Why is she keeping the damn bottle?

Monts is sullenly rolling the shot bottle back and forth across the counter. The corner coffee shop has its lights on and she's behind said counter wearing an apron as if waiting for customers to come in so she can begin work. Not that it's an actual job; it's been something to do and it helps her get back into a rhythm to stay sane.

But her time in the vault has been... Trying.

If someone comes in, without looking up, Monts will say:]

If you found something from the bank and wanna share, I'll make you a drink in return. Only if you really feel like it though.

🃏 Wildcard

[ooc: HMU at my plotting comment if you'd like something specific or just go for it.]

coffee break

[cranekin]

(The rosary tucked away in his robes feels heavy and he handles it the same way he's always handled things like this.

He looks for a distraction. When he spots a worker in a coffee shop, his attention is caught and he goes to investigate.)

... You work here?

(This city has workers? He can't tell if she's another kidnapped soul like the others or if she's a part of this city... the feeling he gets from her doesn't really help, either. )

Will Byers | Stranger Things

[willtheunwise]

Rummaging Through The Bank

It seems odd that the city would have or create a bank considering nobody uses or needs to use money here. And that there’s nobody around to even run the place anyway. It’s that uncanny feeling that has Will stepping through the doors in the first place. It’s easier than lingering by the mall that he still hasn’t set foot inside anyway.

He doesn’t do much rummaging himself, not quite comfortable enough here to want to touch very much, like something might jump out or ensnare him if he goes properly rifling through the draws. It feels wrong to even go behind the desks, like he’s breaking the law and something is going to happen; some unforeseen consequence.

So he doesn’t do very much touching, just looks around with a frown trying to decide whether it’s really worth the risk of having a more thorough search.

“Have you found anything?” He asks the moment he encounters another person, possibly one braver than he is about trying to uncover the places secrets.


Vaults
cw: all fairly vague but; “demonic” possession, mild homophobia and a dash of memory of suicidal ideation

The key isn’t heavy, but it feels it. Part of Will wants to put it back and not deal with it, leave the whole thing alone and allow the city to keep its secrets.

He knows just enough to know that it’s probably going to throw something hurtful in his face, like the fortune teller that reminded him that ‘friends don’t lie’ unless they’re lying to help he tells himself over and over but he knows it didn’t help, not really, it just hurt everyone involved. Or the strange washer that he pulled clothing from the past out of, each piece with some emotional significance that he really doesn’t and didn’t want to deal with and now they’re all in a plastic bag shoved down the back of the couch in the apartment he’s claimed.

So really he knows better, or he should, and that’s why he has a distinct aura of anxiety as he enters the vault and tries to find box 2203. The number itself feels significant, but he just can’t remember why, it triggers something he can’t grasp, out of reach like it’s taunting him.

He succeeds and he succeeds in opening the box and there it is. The sting in the scorpions tail. A photo of a group of kids dressed in almost identical outfits, ghostbusters costumes to any who would recognise them, only it’s watermarked, a little crumpled and torn right down the middle, where it separates what anyone could reasonably work out is Will and a taller boy with freckles and curly hair. It looks like it was torn deliberately and by hand.

It takes him straight back to -

A cool hand on his. A promise - “Crazy together.”

Fighting through the haze and smoke clogging his own mind, making him feel like he couldn’t breathe, keeping him trapped as he watches somebody else take the reins in his body only for “It was the best thing I ever did.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

A baseball bat in his own hands, smashing the thing he and his brother had built that felt like his, felt safe, so convinced he’d never, ever feel safe again - everything was ruined, everything he touched was ruined - feeling like a monster and a mistake and they shouldn’t have saved him, wasted effort saving something that should have died by now anyway.

He doesn’t read the note or look too long at the picture - his chest is too tight from the flashback, tears are already threatening and god he wishes he didn’t cry so easily - instead slamming the lid shut on the box, prepared to put it back and scream at whoever is controlling this stupid place to leave him alone, he knows he fucked up, he knows the situation with him and Mike and El is an absolute disaster. He really doesn’t need reminding constantly.

And then the door swings shut trapping him and the other person in the room.

OOC:
- I will match your preferred format always!! I’m easy lol
- If you want something more tailored or just to plot a bit first you can find my event plotting post here!

Placeholder!

[willtheunwise]

( Please don’t reply to this yet I want an aftermath placeholder comment in case I need it!! )

gregor | limbus company

[blattella]

vault lockdown

[Of course, if there's a new place opening up in town, then it stands to reason that Gregor's going to end up there. He's been a constant fixture over the past few hours of its grand opening, just poking and prodding around at his own pace, rifling through whatever he can find, but it's not until he spots the rack of keys that he really, really perks up and starts going ham. Sure, the fact that there's a bunch of keys with names on (and quite a few names he recognises, not that he's going to go handing those out until he knows what's in the boxes) is fucking weird.

But that's about standard.

And this...This is something. It's something promising. He actually looks rather pleased with himself, genuinely smiling for the first time in a while as he looks for his own box, even letting out a celebratory whoop when he does find it.

And then he finds what's inside. A roll of soft fabric, worn at the edges, smelling of smoke and metal.

The vault door slams shut. Gregor drops to his knees, fabric dropping, unfurling into a flag with a young man printed on it. Uh. ????????? Okay. Give him a moment to be responsive, then he'll realise he's not alone and his company's also freaking out, ok.]

24 hours post-propaganda, cw insect body horror

[Whatever goes down in the vault, it's not pretty. It's not. And he can feel his body betraying him, itching, pieces and bits and plates and limbs and wings and antenna all shifting and forming beneath his skin in slow motion. He's not even sure if he can make it home before the first signs start forming, stumbling about as his centre of gravity shifts and his skin begins to break, slowly, agonisingly so, around translucent white, soft palps sprouted with little rhyme or reason.

Catch him near a District 2 store, trying to crawl his way in to go through this for the next 24 hours, bubbling and twisting and writhing a completely new thing, a nymph not yet hardened, voice hoarse from the meltdown only the day prior. Everything's moving, twitching, trying to burst through his clothes and harden in the air, stubble interspersed with twitching appendages palps upon palps and antenna wet in his hair.

He can't wait for it to be gone again, to sink back into his skin. This is hideous. Repulsive. Disgusting. He wants to be sick.]

for @codenametesla

[blattella]

[So, in all of his paranoia, in his desperate drive to do and achieve something, anything, Gregor sifts through the usernames, the people, the uses.

He plucks another one out. Techie sort, just like the anonymous friend who gave him that very gift. But a name's more concrete than the anonymity, and he'd like more hands on board. More hands on board means more people invested in this than just him, and an effort being made even should he be out of commission for a day in the future.

(Or worse. He doesn't want to know what worse is, here.)

Anyway, that's all to say that he dms Althea completely out of the blue one night, already grimacing with how weird he must sound to everyone he's trying to recruit into this harebrained effort. It'll be worth it if he can just...Get something together, he's sure of it.]

This is the second time I've sent a complete stranger a message, and I don't feel any less of a creep for it. Really sorry for the intrusion, but I

You know your way around electronics, computers, that sort of thing? I have a little project that needs more skilled hands than what I've got, and maybe someone with more ideas on how to do this.





Okay this sounds really mysterious and stuff but it's really just me trying to make a database, a bank of information we've discovered, the theories people have, that sort of thing. That's all! I just don't know what'd be easiest, or how to do it on the machines we've got.

Also hi, I'm Gregor. Sorry about this. Hi. Hope you can help me out! Thanks.

Tsurumaru Kuninaga | Touken Ranbu

[cranekin]

❀ ( BANK ) BANG AND KAPOW

(His footsteps echo, lacquer sandals clicking on the polished marble in a way that makes him smile. He even stops in the center, tapping the toe of the sandal against the floor, listening to the way it sounds, and jumps so his feet land with a loud clack.)

Hah!

(Even his laugh resounds in the bank halls and he turns his head to whoever is nearby and calls out,)

What a good sound! Kind of makes you want to scream, doesn't it?

(Don't you wanna scream? Go a little crazy? Lose it just a bit?

Or maybe there's no one around and its just him in this big ol' empty bank and he inhales and—)

BANG!

(Just gonna casually yell at the top of his lungs no big deal.)

❀ (AROUND THE CITY) WHY KEEP QUIET?

(He'd been right after all. The bank had, indeed, been a place with precious things. After his exchange with Nehan, he worries about others finding things that don't belong to them. Given his own past, he also doesn't trust others to leave things alone. What if someone did, in fact, try to look through the other boxes with or without a key?

While it's new and has everyone's attention, he feels safer keeping this with him for now. When he feels like he's alone, he takes a moment to sit— a bench in the park or subway, a booth at a restaurant, (anywhere quiet, really)— and he reaches into the sleeve of his robe.

Raising his fist up into the air, holding it up to the light as if to block it from view, he opens is hand. A simple, black rosary tumbles down, the gold cross turning in the air.

Leaning back, stretching, he lets out a sigh,)

... Paraiso~! Eh?

❀ ( SUBWAY STATION ) TEKE-TEKE

(Or maybe you don't want to think about the fancy new bank. Maybe you're drawn to older and more familiar places. There's nothing wrong with that! In fact, Tsurumaru finds himself at the station but you might be a little pressed to look for him.

There's a sound coming from the tracks and if you look beyond the safety barrier that divides the platform and the tracks, you'll find Tsuru skipping on the tracks below, balancing on one of the beams.)

Karan, koron~ Karan, koron~

(The sounds he makes matches his steps. Click, clack, click, clack. The sound of wooden shoes clicking on metal.)

Ah, wait. (He stops like he has a sudden realization,) Maybe it should it be, "teke-teke" instead?

(Why is this man making strange sounds on the tracks.)

❀ WILDCARD

Hit me! My plotting comment is here. You can also reach me on plurk yosakoi.

( closed to nehan)

[cranekin]

❀ A QUIET PLACE

(Like a crow, intelligent and curious, he's drawn to the deposit boxes. It all feels unfamiliar but he can feel it in the air. There are precious things here and he recognizes the names of some of the people he's met in this city. He doesn't have to stretch his imagination very far to guess what might be inside these boxes. Briefly, he considers taking another key if only to learn more about what this city might hold...

... His honor is stronger than his curiosity. The heavy and serious air, the silence, the security... it's different but all too familiar. Never. He would never—)

...

(He takes the key bearing his own name and goes to the box. It's too small for what he's really looking for. Maybe if he were a dagger instead of a proper sword, he'd be more excited but unless this box is longer than it appears, there's no way it could be his true form.

Opening the box, what he finds is a mask.)

Woah…

(He picks it up with both hands and holds it up to the light. He recognizes it in the sense is image is familiar to him but... this definitely is not his. This isn't what he expected to find and he laughs,)

Haha! What a surprise!

(He holds it up in front of his face and laughs again,)

Is this room full of gifts?

(Did he really misread the air that bad? Hah!)

henry creel | stranger things

[vecna]

EXPLORING THE BANK.

[The bank lobby may be designed to be elegant and welcoming, but Henry sees only an overbearing building meant to keep things locked away. Empty as it is, there's little that compels him into this place other than to see if there are further secrets tucked away to unearth — a few minutes searching will disappoint him, then, finding all the papers to (once again) be blank, all the forms full of nothing. Not even a slip of cash in a teller’s drawer.

But there are the keys.

Henry plucks one from the rack, holding it up and watching it dangle before him. On one side, a name. The other, a number.]

I guess there is a mystery to unlock here, after all.

[Like, maybe literally.

Eventually, with a bit of rifling, he finds a key with his own name engraved upon it. Turning it over in his hands, something about his cordial expression twists, tilting wry at the number.]

And this city thinks it has a sense of humor.

RETURNING AN ITEM. (Closed to Mob)

[The key might have had his name and “number” engraved on front and back, but the safety deposit box held an item that he does not recognize. He’s already spent time turning it over in his hands, wondering what on earth its significance could be, if it is supposed to be a further practical joke employed by the city (after all, the title of this thing is ironically striking), but the slip of paper coupled with the book came with a name. He can only assume that name belongs to someone nearby.

Henry is not… terribly obligated to find whoever it is; in fact, it’s only the idea of this stranger potentially owning something of his—and the curiosity surrounding that fact—that compels him to seek in the most unhurried manner possible. But luck is on his side? (Citation needed.) It’s not too long before he finds himself wandering inside another building/where-have-you/whatever-is-funniest, only to find the doors slamming directly behind him. Locked up tight.

Well, then.

He looks at the young man who shares this same predicament with him, apparently.]

I’m going to assume that— [BEING TRAPPED IN HERE] —has something to do with this. [He holds up the book, waggling it ever so gently in his hand.]

AROUND THE CITY.

[It’s only a day or so after the bank decided that trapping people in its vault was its new pastime, and Henry has decided in turn, with some fervency, that he has grounds to hate this city. For all of its little ironies here and there, he’s had his real item returned to him, and it’s an old family photo that dredges up very little more than feelings of—

(deep roiling anger, bone-deep bitterness)

—discontent that makes him question why he’s bothering to hold onto it. In fact, should someone draw near in curiosity as he’s looking it over, perhaps after he’s taken a seat somewhere on a park bench, or inside an empty restaurant, he’ll offer them a strained smile, actually hold the photo out to them, and say:]

Looks like a perfectly happy family, doesn’t it?

[Okay, BUT DOES IT THO. Maybe for all but one.]

(( ooc; feel free to wildcard or hit me up over at aurajen if you want to plot something out! ))

around the city!

[blackwaterchild]

[Miu is a curious person by nature--curiosity killed the cat--so it's no surprise that she wanders over to see what this guy's got in his hands. Especially since she knows there were tons of those lockboxes in the bank with people getting random stuff back.

She's pleased he reveals the picture to her before she can ask (or pretend to just be walking past behind him while straining for a look), but the picture isn't quite what she expected.

Miu raises an eyebrow, looking skeptically between him and the picture, as if wondering if it's a joke]

Why does the boy look like someone's holding a gun to his back to get into this picture?

Miu Hinasaki | Fatal Frame V | OTA | will match format style

[blackwaterchild]

A. Bank Heist

[Of course she's going to poke all around the newly opened bank, who do you think she is? She flutters about, pulling open every drawer and cabinet she can get into. She pulls drawers out entirely to flip over--just in case--and then loudly drops to the floor before moving on, not bothering to put anything back.]

I thought this was going to be exciting, but this sucks.

[She sounds very disappointed as she sits at a desk, leaning back in the chair, her feet dropped up on the desk in front of her. She peers around some papers in her hand at whoever's wandered by] Find anything good?

B. Locked In (cw: if asked too much about her parents, there might be mentions of incest)

[Curiosity killed the cat. How many times had she heard that? She stares at the shut door, then at the ancient-looking book that had been in her lockbox. And the note along with it. She sneers at them both, huffing]

"Nothing is yours. It is to use. It is to share. If you will not share it, you cannot use it."

Great. Love that this place is going out of its way to teach us 'sharing is caring.'

b

[odasaku]

[ well, they sure are locked in. oda turns around, listlessly observing the closed door. he should have tried to bring a pin but, honestly, who has those handy?

with his expression ever so calm, he turns back towards the stranger. she doesn't seem to be panicking, or at least is trying to act like she isn't. either way, oda feels a sense of responsibility towards her and, thus, feels like it's his job to get her out.

...somehow. ]

I guess so. We might not come out of here until we learn that lesson. [ ... ]

Maybe you should show me the book?

junpei | zero escape | ota

[coolerjunpei]

I. the appropriate way to handle a bad day

[Junpei has already been to the bank. He's suspiciously taken his key, he's opened his box. He's already had a bad time abruptly recalling in perfect clarity the few hours, iterated again and again over too many timelines, that he spent wearing the ugly thing, and so now he is both a) exhausted, and b) low-grade pissy.

The bracelet has to go. He's been keeping an eye on it, just in case it springs out a bunch of needles and tries to put him to sleep, but it seems like that particular feature has been switched off for now...

But who's to say, really. So in his new quest, Junpei can be found variously around, attempting to:

A. Leave the thing on the subway tracks, carefully arranging it in a spot that looks like it will get run over and then hauling himself back up to the station floor and immediately turning around like he might hop back down there and grab it again, OR,

B. Clutching it as gingerly as he can around town, looking for a place to chuck it or at least hide it where no one else will see it. He's not going back into the fucking bank to get locked in a room again, no sir!!

Either of these instances, if he catches someone's eye, he will sigh and say:]

Who thought we weren't here just to get screwed with...? Come on.

II. a valiant attempt at obfuscation

[Or: as he doesn't want to talk about his ugly bracelet full of needles, Junpei eventually comes up with the grand idea to stash it in his pocket and pretend his bank vault gift was something else, because "oh uh there wasn't anything in there" sounds like a stupid lie even to him. Unfortunately for Junpei, the only other authentic item (that is to say, not overtly picked up in one of the available stores, which he considered) is a ring with its own awkward backstory, but here he is, slouched on a bench outside the bank looking at it glumly.

The bracelet is still in his pocket, however. It'll go just fine. He still doesn't want to volunteer to ~*share*~ first, so it's... theorycrafting time. So:]

Hey—uh, hold on.

[hi. welcome to junpei.]

How old is the thing that was in your deposit box? I know you got one. Do you think we've been here before...?

[He didn't check every key for any suspicious names of people who aren't here, but what if they stocked this vault themselves...!!]

III. danger birds

[Once he's feeling less prickly, Junpei ventures back into the bank—For Art. Literally, he's capitalizing on his own very good idea from The Code Words Meeting, that being: they should have some kind of a quick symbol for danger, and all he could think of at the time was a canary—as in, in coal mines—and so now he is... trying to draw a bird on the wall beside the wall of keys behind the counter.

Operative word being trying. He's got a marker in hand, and two variants crudely doodled on a piece of paper he's held up to the wall. First drafts...

As he squints and frowns at his work, he mutters,] What the hell do birds look like...

[What are birds. Indeed.]

IV. wildcard/misc

[junpei is available for all your Bank Exploration needs, i just didn't write a prompt for that, lol... feel free to approach him about code word meeting things as well, per my plotting comment! he will ultimately not be destroying or throwing away his cursed bracelet so a dozen stupid attempts to get rid of it is just fine. hmu at jojoveller if you need anything...!

engaging about the bracelet means hearing a junpei-ified version of zero time dilemma's murder game plot, so there will be murder, quantum antics, and spoilers in there.]

vaultstuck for lenore

[coolerjunpei]

[Junpei heads into the vault with his key without paying much mind to anyone else being in there; he gives the young woman he passes like, half of a cursory nod before he sets about finding the proper deposit box.

...And he does talk to himself, so just ignore him as he mutters:]

Not here... Not here... This one, huh? Alright, let's see what we've got.

[He opens the box... and pushes it away from himself on the table, turning away from it to look at the slot where it previously sat in the vault wall. The chunky, utilitarian bracelet (well, it's more like an ugly watch) sitting in the box he leaves where it is, for now—he'll get to that in a minute. First, he wants to shove his arm into the wall space as far as he can, looking for some sign that this box can be accessed from the other side, or that there's a false compartment in there; anything that suggests someone else can get in without "his" key.

It's going great. He's just past elbow-deep in there and finding not much at all besides the pinch of metal when he turns to the other occupant of the vault.]

Hey—this place opened today, right? No one's been in here before?

[The door still hasn't shut, but it's only a matter of time before one of them touches their generous gifts.]

peter quill | mcu

[nostalgiabomb]

i. mama told me not to come — the bank

[ So here's the thing:

Even if Peter Quill spent his most recent years as a interplanetary hero, even if he put behind his life of professional thieving, even if he would tell people who accused him of being a criminal that he had left that all behind and that he was now, in his own words, "a nice dude," he never quite set aside his appreciation for valuables and money. And having it. And having a lot of it.

Then there's a vault. And it's wide open. And even if it doesn't house the riches that he was kind of hoping for (because of course it didn't, and even if it did, what was he gonna do with it while trapped in this place?), it was still, at least, something to explore.

... even if the exploring is turning out to be boring as hell, evidenced by the way he's only halfheartedly picking his way through a stack of files. He tosses a pile of blank paperwork to one side. ]

Good news is, I found the forms for if you wanted to refinance your house.

ii. come and get your love — inside the vault

[ So here's what happens: Peter finds his key and cautiously enters the vault. He locates the appropriately numbered box and gives it the stink-eye for a few heartbeats. Clearly he's expecting to unlock the thing and, like, get a face full of acid, or find a disembodied hand, or maybe discover a desiccated orloni, or something fucking weird.

It's with no small amount of trepidation that he opens up his safety deposit box. He stares, dumbfounded, at an old, well-loved Sony Walkman before picking it up out of the box, like it's the most delicate, breakable thing in the world.

When the vault door slams shut, he nearly jumps out of his skin and blurts out on instinct, ]

I didn't do anything.

iii. show and tell — around the city

[ Peter's normal attitude while wandering the city, these days, is Highly Distracted and Preoccupied.

He's had a lot on his mind, okay? And he knows that given where he is (a Mysterious City™), and given what's going on (that he has been Mysteriously Kidnapped and that people are getting kind of murder happy) and what's already happened (see: previous parenthetical), he should be on his guard.

But he's not.

(Don't @ him, Nebula.)

It doesn't help, either, that he's currently plugged into a cassette tape player, which is clipped his belt. He's already spent hours examining the thing, and short of taking everything fully apart, he's, like, 98% sure this is the real deal.

So distracted as he is, it's why, in a big, empty city, with big, open expanses – while strolling through the park, while wandering through a grocery or convenience store, while raiding some nondescript electronics store for AA batteries – he still somehow manages to walk right into someone.

As he's scrambling back, yanking down his headphones so that they're hanging around his neck— ]

Shit, sorry. That was my fault.

[ Obviously. ]

iv. hit me with your best shot — wildcard

(( feel free to PM me or message me at lampshading if you need anything! ))

iii

[willtheunwise]

[ Will isn’t really paying attention to where he’s going either and funnily enough the same person would probably not be impressed if she saw him aimlessly wandering without paying attention to his surroundings too, if the interaction from a few nights ago is any indication ]

Shit! Sorry!

[ For someone who wasn’t looking where he was going and has to duck really quickly so he doesn’t burn the stranger with the cigarette he isn’t really smoking, just letting burn out in his hand, Will recovers extraordinarily quickly when he hears the familiar and tinny sound of music playing through headphones ]

You have music? How did you..? Did you find it here?

[ Ordinarily he’d have music playing whenever he’s awake and the extreme quiet of the city has been getting to him in a way he finds hard to explain ]

heero yuy | gundam wing

[heeroics]

ooc: i decided to provide two options here! i don't mind handwaving timey-wimey jamjar overlap if you don't. Heero's backstory includes cws for the themes you see here, and i'm happy to accommodate specific opt outs as best i can.

「01」the memory bank

A.

[ Heero may be paranoid and distrustful, but he is also easily bored, and determined to make something useful of their endlessly empty time in the City. When word gets out that the bank is open for... business? He goes to investigate, knowing there must be some purpose behind their captors' decision to suddenly yield this new territory to them. Heero's suspicion is duly rewarded when his roughshod rifling through myriad banking paraphernalia yields a brass key that is allegedly his.

So the City wants to show him something?

Perhaps it's foolish of him to proceed on his own, but Heero does. He takes, unlocks, and reaches inside the deposit box that is "his" without reservation. His fingers touch plastic. At first, he doesn't seem to understand what he's looking at, until he gathers the item into his hands and its significance comes rushing back to him all at once.

He's dreamt of his mother many times since then, but never in such vivid detail. It happened so long ago in his past that when recalling it, the moments come more like blur of distant sensations than a true episodic memory: the acrid smoke stinging his eyes and burning in his lungs and throat; a woman's body disappearing behind a wall of accelerant-fueled flame, and the stars opening up beyond her. Then the monstrous teeth of the bulkhead batten down with a such an incredible SLAM! that it rattles his whole tiny body, and it's deafeningly loud - so loud it silences all the screams at once.

Heero gasps quietly.

The toy in his hands - a bulky humanoid figure in army green, its plastic joints and surfaces molded into sharp angles to mimic metal, and with a gun of alarming size in one hand - falls from numbed fingers and clatters to the floor. With a cheaply resounding snap!, the replica's helmeted head and gun arm both pop off upon impact, each scattering in opposite directions. ]

...

B.

[ Sheer stubbornness holds two people prisoner in the vault, and this will remain the case until it's become firmly, undeniably apparent that there is no escape. If it isn't a joint effort that brings them to this conclusion, then it certainly comes after a completely exhaustive search on Heero's part - but he wouldn't have asked for help unless it was provided, nor does he think he needs it.

That leaves only one thing left to try: the obvious thing.

He spreads out the note against the immovable metal wall of the locked vault, hastily smoothing out the creases formed in the paper by his clenched fist until he can read the words again.

And again.

Finally, he sighs; it sounds like concession. The paper gets crumpled up and shoved back into his pocket. ]

Here.

[ Heero shoves a single yellow buttercup in his fellow captive's direction, his expression severe and set in stone. The simple flower smells sweet and freshly picked, like honey and sunshine and grass.

The note said he has to share. ]

「02」sleepless in the city

[ Night terrors aren't exactly new to him. It's only rare - a year removed from the Eve Wars, now - that new material enters his dreams to make them vivid and fresh and real again. Even so, it usually doesn't affect his performance in any way. A perfect soldier can make do with minimal sleep. And, he doesn't let whatever is keeping him up at night encroach upon his mission during the day.

But every time he wakes up from that dream - the dream of Don Quixote's death that has inexplicably haunted him since he'd stood by at the sidelines of her and Wufei's battle to the death - Heero has to muffle a scream of searing pain into his pillow and remain there, curled up into the fetal position just like that, until the shaking of his shoulders and the throbbing of his head finally subside. It's unbearable. It's embarrassing.

Heero chooses not to sleep.

Perhaps you'll run into him: jogging the streets at night, investigating the buildings and streets that are open to them, picking up plain black coffees from cafes run by ghosts... and exercising. So much exercising. Join him on the gym floor of their high rise apartment building! He's probably got the lights on all night, lifting stupid weight without a spotter. ]

「03」other wildcards

My plotting comment is here if you'd rather hash something out first!

Bank, A

[braidedwonder]

[ Of course Duo would follow to the Bank. There's nothing better to do around here than to sort of tag along with the people he trusts the most to have his back should the shit hit the fan and .. it's a bank. Duo Maxwell is inherently too damn nosey to stay home and not do anything while Heero has gone off to wander and explore the bank.

He stays behind, for a few moments, to take a look behind the counters, tempted by the money drawers to see if there's anything inside. While Heero is taking in the safety deposit boxes, Duo is fishing a bobby pin out of his hair to wiggle in to one of the drawer locks, careful in how he maneuvers it, even though he knows he can be possibly cuffed (again) for this kind of thing. However, all of the punishments here seem sort of light, coming from the kid who was once almost suffocated on a moon base, and so with a light sentence in mind he bumps a drawer open simply out of curiosity.

No need to steal when everything is free anyway, right?

At any rate, Duo is mid-drawer-opening when he hears a clatter from the safety deposit box room, attention immediately diverted into the other room as he stands, reaching for a pocket as he comes around the corner -

To Heero, still alone in a room, though there's now some sort of action figure on the floor. ]

Is that a Leo?

( open ) — heine rammsteiner | dogs: bullets & carnage

[kampfgeist]

break the fruit into quarters;
THE THINGS I GAVE YOU

[ back home, heine had never accumulated enough wealth to bother even looking for a bank—and he knows if he had, he would have found them all mob-controlled and corrupt just like every other service in the underbelly of the city.

similarly, he already knows that there's not likely to be anything of value in the bank. the city hall has already proven to contain no records of value, and the vault would be far too obvious a place to store the valuables that were stripped from them on their arrival.

…is that going to stop him looking? somehow also no!

which is why heine can be found sitting in one of the chairs behind a teller's desk. depending on when you find him, he may be either…

a) flipping through file after file of either heavily redacted or totally blank paperwork, absolutely failing to make any sense of the numbers that he can see. he's surrounded by perused and discarded files, the mess of someone interested in finding information but not interested in cleanup; or

b) looking intently at something on the computer screen, brow furrowed with intensity as his gaze tracks around. occasionally he curses under his breath, then sits back in the chair to rub a hand over his face. (it's tetris. he's playing tetris.) ]

learn open-heart surgery;
IT'S TRUE, PEOPLE TAKE THINGS BUT RARELY

[ having liberated his own key from its place on the bank wall and shoved it immediately deep into his pocket for later use, heine makes his way back toward the vault. he's undecided—is this him being proven wrong on his earlier assumptions about the contents of this vault? or is this yet another extremely bad idea about to come to brilliant, brutal fruition? or possibly both, at the same time?

he pauses when he sees he has company, then lifts his hand in greeting. his own key is in ]

I don't know about you, but I don't remember putting anything in here.

[ which, now that he says it aloud, is probably one point in favor of this being a bad idea.

but once again, is that going to stop him? not at all, which is why he's going to spend the next few minutes seeing if he can force open any of the other safety deposit boxes. (he won't be able to, naturally, but it'll take a few before he gives up.) ]

do not become the hungry animal;
POST-EVENT CITY WANDERINGS

[ heine is deeply shaken as he slumps onto a bench just inside the limits of the city hall park. his head aches—the wound has finally closed, but his fringe and the side of his face are crusted with drying blood, and the collar of his shirt is stiff with it. (head wounds bleed a lot, as it turns out.) his stomach churns, and he can't decide if he needs to take a deep breath, have a smoke, or throw up, or some combination of the above, all at once.

you've always known you're a monster, the dog says. ]

Shut up. [ muttered, his voice raw. to anyone walking by—except maybe those especially attuned to the dark shit that sometimes lurks in people's minds—he may as well be talking to himself. ] Shut the fuck up.

[ who do you think you are to talk about justice? redemption?

heine leans forward to bury his face in his hands, fingers catching and pulling at his hair, a jolt of bright pain from the barely-healed flesh of his scalp. the flower in his hand presses to his temple, and its delicate scent makes his shoulders shudder with barely-repressed rage and grief. ]

ooc notes;
FOR THE ADVENTUROUS CROWD

I already have plans for the contents of Heine's safety deposit box, but are more than happy to have him get involved in someone else's trauma! over and over again, by the power of RP magic, amirite?

if you have an idea not represented by the above, hit me up at maehwa or via PM for plotting!

( closed ) — badou

[kampfgeist]

be careful not to kill anything with your starvation;
A CRASH-SITE IS SACRED, WE'RE FAITHFUL

[ six years of partnership means heine doesn't need to ask if badou thinks this is a bad idea—he already knows badou thinks this is a bad idea. it's written in the way he's been chainsmoking somehow even harder than he usually does, and also in the scowl he gave heine when he asked badou to join him at the bank.

but also, badou's here anyway, which means that he and heine are probably on the same page about it being a bad idea they need to have. or at least a necessary evil in the name of figuring out what the fuck is going on around here.

time for badou to do what he does best (gather information), while heine also does what he does best (make bad choices and get in trouble). ]

Did you find yours? [ he lifts a hand to dangle his key, jingling softly where he has a finger looped through the ring. ] I knew they were keeping track of us, didn't think they were going to start giving us gifts.

[ it's said so very wryly. heine rammsteiner, professional jokester. ]

What're the chances of my guns being in there, ya think?

kamui uehara | no more heroes

[metafictions]

01; network
text, un: UEHARA

Would you classify the item you found in your deposit box as:

A. Positively associated

B. Negatively associated

C. Neutral

D. It's complicated

You don't need to go into specifics if you don't want to, but if you could elaborate (i.e. it was very positive/negative, or what might have made it complicated) it might help us find a pattern.

[He doesn't add anything else, nor does he bother turning on anon. The more he tries to sort this into making some kind of sense, the less he's thinking about the implications of what he found inside his own box.]

02; doing bad!

[Kamui is... filing.

Wait. He's filing?

On the desk behind the young man are several sizable stacks of paper. One by one, working in complete silence, he's sorting through the bank's files, checking them for any notable names or information, then replacing them in their cabinets. Unfortunately, everything is blank, useless, or unfilled-- so this is turning into an exercise in painstakingly re-sorting empty sheets of paper.

In spite of the drudgery of the task, Kamui works with a focus that never once wavers, nor does he look up if addressed. At long last, he glances over his shoulder at whoever's approached him:]

If you aren't going to help, can you leave? [he says, tone matter of fact.] I don't want to talk about what I saw in there.

[So, yes: he's already been in his own vault.]

03; still doing Bad
(possible thread cws: child abuse & neglect)

[Once the initial rush of interest in the bank vaults has passed, Kamui makes his way out to the nearest park. He's got a contemplative, distant look on his face as he stares down at the burnished key that he, like everyone else, has received. It rests on top of his item: a child's sticker book, slightly dog-eared and worn, but otherwise intact.

He'd forgotten all about this. He had been content to have lost those years of his childhood, really: knowing that whoever has brought them all here has unearthed this long-buried part of himself is, to say the least, unnerving.]

They really do know us. [he says to no one in particular. There's a troubled frown on his face as the thoughts race through his head.]

This is going to be a problem.

wildcard;
[feel free to hmu at smithsyndicate or at the plotting post if you'd like something different!]

02

[gradenine]

[ after calming himself down from that incessant and utterly embarrassing mental breakdown from the vaults, roland comes out of it... looking fine? his suit may be a touch wrinkled and his eyes look bloodshot with tears, but at least he ain't a blubbering mess anymore.

he's still looking for a decent enough distraction from all that, and he spots some guy... doing paperwork? tf. ]

Depends on what you need help for in the first place, jeez.

[ that's the thing, they all need help..... lmao ]

I ain't gonna ask about that, since we just met and all and there are better icebreakers out there. Like what you found here so far.

[codenametesla]

i. gonna need more coffee for this

[The bank open was a big deal, apparently, and so it wasn't long before Althea heard about it, even as out of it as she was from a few nights straight of vivid nightmares.

She wasn't sure she frankly had the energy to join in the investigation of this new building though, so instead she sat outside, a little ways away, with the largest coffee she'd been able to find, just watching.

Find anything interesting? [Called out to anyone leaving who appears to be in a more talkative mood, or perhaps just someone who looks familiar.]


ii. the walking deadtired

[Somehow, she looked even more like a zombie than when she first went into the vault, wandering around as she was with her key clutched in one hand and the letter she had found within clutched in the other.

She had no idea where she was going, frankly, simply wandering in straight lines till the urge overcame her to stop somewhere, sit down, and reread her letter again, as if checking to make sure it was real and she hadn't dreamt the whole thing. Then she'd get up again and start walking once she was unable to sit still any longer.

To say she wasn't doing well would be an understatement.]

iii. wildcard!
[Feel free to hmu with anything we've already plotted out (or I'll try to put some starters under this if you want!), or come plot with me at the plotting post!]

ii.

[indwelt]

[ Once again, he ends up finding her at a less than ideal moment. Sure would be nice if they could bump into each other on a nice day, both with smiles on their faces and good news to share, but it seems like this city has other plans for them.

He leans over the park bench where she's seated, forearms resting against the back of the bench, a sad smile on his face. ]

You look tired. Haven't been sleeping well lately?

[ Goodness knows his own sleep has been fitful at best this past week. ]

Midoriya Izuku | My Hero Academia

[fullgauntlet]

[🧩 a. locked inside the vault]

[There is something very anxiety-inducing about standing in such a strangely lit vault surrounded by hundreds of square boxes. The dim fluorescent lights hurt his eyes and the drum of dry air from the vents above seems way louder than it should be.

It only takes a moment of Izuku wandering over to unlock his safety deposit box to realize something about this is very wrong. The holo hero card he finds in his box makes his fingers tremble and his lungs struggle to get a breath in. And then...

Slam!! The vault doors swing closed with a loud bang that sends Izuku jumping on the spot.]

Eh!? Hey- What is going on now?!

[Izuku immediately goes up to the vault door and tries to pull it open by the large bar but nothing happens and it won’t budge. The frustration makes Izuku's fists clench and sparks of green electricity crackle around him. What is he going to do? Punch it?!]

Let us out!?

[Izuku frowns in frustration and glances over his shoulder at whoever is trapped in here with him. And uh he really hopes this isn’t one of those rooms where you have to do something weird with the other person to get out...]

I hope there's no weird trick to this...

[🍵 b. a grocery store stake out]

[A few nights later Izuku can be found at one of the grocery stores very late at night. He looks up at the old janky sign above the store and nods with determination. Tonight he’s going to stay up the entire night to see if he can catch anyone (or anything) in the act of stocking up the store with goods when no one is around. He wants to find answers to who the heck is stocking everything up?!

Find Izuku standing there outside of the store looking nervous and contemplating on breaking in. Or maybe you had decided to join Izuku on this little stakeout in the first place. And what better place for a stake out than a store that has a lot of snacks and drinks inside too?]

There has to be a way to get into the store without breaking anything... Maybe a back door or something?

[He doesn’t know. He's bad at this part. And he looks incredibly nervous about it.]

[☘️ c. exploring the train tracks]

[Sometime after the bank incident Izuku finds that it is high time that he searches for some answers of his own. Izuku thinks that if there is a way to escape this empty city it has to be the way that they all came into it. The train station.

Izuku is there now with a backpack full of supplies like rope, food, water and medical supplies. And in his hand, he has a paper brochure that has a map of the city on it with the train station marked in red.]

It makes sense that if we go down these tunnels and follow the map we should find a way leading out to the outskirts of the city. And ... We won't know what's out there until we try.

[📗 e. wildcard]

[have something else? feel free to put it here or you can plot with me on my ooc comment to plan something out!]

b. grocery store

[braidedwonder]

[ Duo... is up to his usual. A prowl for a snack late at night (and avoiding sleep because it's had the extra magic of a brand new night terror added, of late, since he'd watched Don Quixote die. He supposes that's a rather light sentence for not stopping a murder, all things considered, but a young man like Duo Maxwell does not have to try very hard for a night to be ruined by nightmares.

So he may look a little tired as he wanders toward the corner store nearby where they've decided to stay, head tipping slightly as he notices the other man outside. ]

You good? [ This is also an opportunity to get a cigarette in, as Duo removes one from between his lips to tap off the ash to his side. It isn't all that usual to see many people out and about at this hour, is all. ]

Did someone break in somewhere? Seems kinda unnecessary.. they're all open no matter the hour so far as I've seen.

Zelda | Breath of the Wild

[luminously]

a. the things I gave you

( Zelda doesn't hesitate to explore District 2 once it's open to explore, but she keeps her wits about her. They still know almost nothing about this world and what may be in it. Besides, she's grown used to be cautious when it comes to exploring. Even if things were more peaceful in her world now, there were still the occasional monsters that could be found within Hyrule.

She first finds herself at the bank branch, pushing the door open but finding herself surprised at the loud noise that seems to echo through the building. )

… It is similar to City Hall. ( She begins quietly as she steps inside. ) It does not look to have been abandoned for a long period of time, but it is almost as though this world is without its natives.

( No matter what theories she comes up with, that's all they can be really be – theories. There hasn't been any sort of records that could disprove or prove her theories to be the truth. )

b. it's true, people take things but rarely

( Zelda takes her key to her safety deposit box carefully. The last thing she wants to do is lose it. Not when it may be something that can start solving the mystery of why District 2 had opened up so suddenly. Carrying it to box that matches with her key, she opens it easily – but, there's a hint of nervousness in the way her brows furrow and her lips press together tightly. What could be inside? Why was this key intended for her?

What she pulls out from the deposit box appears to be a small-looking tablet. It's not nearly as large as some tablets are, but it may seem out of place for her regardless. Zelda looks over it with a stifled breath, shaking her head.

It's off – even when attempts to look over it, the screen remains blank. )

But.... How? How could this item be brought here? Has it been here all this time?

a

[strongroots]

There been any proof there were people before us? It just looks like an elaborate movie set to me.

[ Maybe there has been proof, maybe there hasn't; a city as big as this should be a sign of people before, of it being used, but the city only wears age in the way the plant-life snakes up the statues in that one park, and even then, the graves there don't really prove anything, to Robby.

But he asks, because he doesn't know: doesn't know like many of them don't know, and doesn't know what is known. So it always feels. ...and he might glimpse at the girl's ears, in a way that doesn't make it too obvious.

There's also things he's been told, but has been finding it hard to believe. The sheets of paper so far are empty, but maybe he's trying to learn something for himself. ]

[gripper]

（ closed to halbird ）

( the first day this distract opened, kromer tried to get into the bank to see if there was anything worthwhile—

and now the door is open, and what she finds is about as useful as anything in city hall. no money, no written word... like a child's playset waiting to be used. kromer thumbs though the keys, pausing on a certain someone's and considering it, reaaally considering it, before she slips it off its chain and grips it tightly in her hand.

it's not the first time she has a key of his! and it won't be the last. she'll be trying to get into his box but when it doesn't open for some reason... she'll just wait for him to show up. )

（ it's mine, but it isn't mine ）

( the object of her desires properly harassed, kromer turns her attention to actually looking at her own box... but is what she has actually hers, or is what she pulls out her companion's instead? you decide! either way, both of you are trapped in here until someone starts fessing up.

for those who might be getting her item, it looks like an ordinary house key. because it is just an ordinary house key. )

（ generally around ）

( after getting her key into possession, she'll be wearing it as a necklace. you know, to further harass the object of her delight, but this ain't about him. it's something connected to a very important memory of hers... so of course she wants to keep it close.

she'll be generally around the city, so this is your open free talk prompt for the four days of "weirdly compelled to talk about this important item" that happen! listen or trade or complain, it doesn't matter. this also works as a wildcard prompt, but if there's anything in particular you want to do, you can DM me or hit up her plot comment. )

YUCK

[halbird]

[ sorting through the keys and not finding his own (and another), well, there's only one place it can really be with the people (person) here being who they are. it's a realization sinclair makes with a sinking feeling in his stomach — knowing the answer to the uncomfortable question silently gnawing in his mind would only be discovered after an increasingly uphill struggle, and knowing that she probably finds great joy in gripping a reflection of a memory alongside all the other ones, alongside whatever is held behind the locked door.

he's surprised, honestly, that she's not opened and torn it all apart when he gets there. and he honestly tries not to make it another callback, another picked scab that this place seems to be so eager and ready to give to him, over and over. another cursed deja vu, another echo in the tunnel, when he comes up to where she's waiting, where he gathers everything he has and says— ]

... Give it back, Kromer.

[ it's not as uncertain as that time in the classroom. just as drawn back, of course, for entirely different reasons. the taut hatred that would normally clip through his words is translated, instead, to the way he tightly holds the makeshift halberd don quixote's made him in both hands.

will this be a mess? of course it will be. he prepares himself for that. more things to add, alongside the dreams, that try to wear him down carefully to a blunt edge. ]

OTA!

[abit_ofboth]

Must Not Be a Bank Holiday

Even if money had been a thing in this world, Loki wouldn’t have much cared. At least at first. He’d grown up rich, after all and money had never been an object. Even then, he’d lived most of his life with the ability to conjure up anything he might need, making money essentially useless to him. Or at least something he didn’t ever feel the need to think about. As such, he was only vaguely aware of what a bank was. He was aware that it held money for those of a lower stance than he was, but he’d never really thought about what that meant before.

And even now, as he heard something about another district being opened and one of the buildings now accessible being a ‘bank’ hardly meant anything to him other than another building to investigate. He doubted he would find anything interesting or useful, but he hadn’t yet given up hope that he could get some answers somewhere. Even now he was sure he had died back home, he still didn’t like the idea that he’d been stolen. Whomever had brought him here had saved his life, but that only meant he wanted to meet them and find out why.

So, Loki made his way down to the newly opened area and walked into the bank. It was a stately old building with a decor he actually quite liked. He looks around and as expected, there is no information on what is actually happening around here. He gave a frustrated sigh when suddenly he looked up and noticed a set of keys. Quite a large number of keys, if he were honest. As he looked over the keys, noting names on all of them, he heard someone enter behind him.

“It seems there might be one for everyone here. I had no idea there were so many of us.”


The Vault

After finding his key, it was actually a while before Loki actually decided to use it. He was curious, of course. When was he not? But he was also a little worried as to what he might find. He, of course, had never put anything in a safety deposit box in his life. He’d never had a reason to with his pocket dimension. So why in the world was there one with his name on it? It must be something that was left for him. It’s really only that thought that made him go check it out finally. It could be a clue, it could help him figure out what was going on here. It could do a lot of things, really. It was like anything else around here, he had to check it out if only to rule it out.

Making his way into the vault, he thought he heard someone else unlocking their own box as he made his way inside. He had thought he’d be the only one who had come so late to find out what might be in their box, but it turned out he was wrong. Loki froze in the doorway, unsure if he wanted to enter when he would not be alone.

For Afters (sent out over video on the network)

[Loki adjusted the camera on his device, looking sternly into the camera. He was, needless to say, very confused by what he found in the safety deposit box with his name on it and Loki did not like to be confused.]

I finally bothered to open my little box in the bank and it held something that I do believe was a mistake. I have heard that others have found items that are personal to them, and although I do quite enjoy tea, this particular cup means nothing to me. So, if this- [He holds up a white porcelain tea cup with a bamboo pattern on it] - is yours, I will happily hand it over. If not, well, I could always use another tea cup.


Wildcard

[Got something else you want to try out with Loki? I’m up for pretty much anything.]

vault

[100more]

When Hob received a key to the newly opened bank, he was a little concerned about what it meant. Who delivered the keys? Hob knows he's not the only one to receive them. It seems like they all did. Unable to resist, Hob eventually made his way to the bank and thought to open his box while no one was around. At least, he thought he was alone.

Hob didn't hear Loki come in. He had just opened his box and pulled the item from within. Once he sees what it is, he's completely shocked and transfixed, unable to stop staring at the small item in his hands.

He doesn't even notice when the door shuts behind Loki and locks itself. The sound should alert Hob to their situation, but he's just unable to process anything other than the memento.

Peter Graham 👑 Hereditary

[possessum]

AFTERMATH — FOR FOUR DAYS

[ The photograph is telling, probably. A story whose surface details aren't terribly hard to grasp: the teenage boy stands a noticeable distance away, hoodie pulled up, and no one's touching him. The father stands as a link to the rest of the family, hands placed on the shoulders of the mother and daughter who have the same strawberry-blonde hair. The boy couldn't be any more of a black sheep than he appears to be, though it may be chalked up to a typical teenage male attitude.

But there is so much more to this story. Things stretch down deep, roots that spread into the darkest depths of the soil, where so many unpleasant wet things live.

And receiving the photograph in this place knocks Peter completely sideways again. Ghosts that only freshly settled within him are pulled back up and out, wailing cold things. He's sick, restless. The usual tendency to stay holed up in the apartment becomes unbearable; when he's there and alone, he hears them. The whispers (and the weeping, and the screaming) of his family. He can't escape. He can't stop looking at the photograph.

He wanders the city in those four days. More intentionally than he has since his arrival here, not lost in his usual fugue state but looking for people. It goes against the instinct to hide, to run, but something... compels him, bone-deep and small and desperate. He doesn't stray too far from the apartment complex, but if you're out and about somewhere, you may see him lurking around there, tall and thin, purple bruises still rimming his eyes, nose still visibly broken. Healing is a long process. There's a fresh bandaged splint on it, someone's been helping him, but it's not enough help. He needs more, needs—

—someone to listen. To see. With the photograph in his hands, he may approach you, wet eyes wide. ]

I'm sorry— I'm sorry. [ For approaching you, bothering you; he looks afraid of you. But he holds up the photo; he can't be sure what he sees is what someone else might. In any case, he needs to ask. ] But can you see.... this? Do you see people in it?

[ Of course, maybe you also have your own item on-person, your own nagging urge to share. ]

AROUND THE CITY — REST OF JULY
CW: SYMPTOMS OF DEMONIC POSSESSION ARE SPRINKLED IN THESE PROMPTS / THREADS. IF YOU PREFER TO OPT OUT OF SOMETHING SPECIFIC, PLEASE FEEL FREE TO LET ME KNOW!

— APARTMENT COMPLEX.

[ After those four days, the odd compulsion to show the photograph of his family wanes, and Peter's left feeling a quiet, tired defeat. His horror hasn't dissipated, and if he thinks about it too much, he won't be able to stop, but— he's so tired.

He can often be found at the apartment building he's been staying at, and while he usually stays inside his own apartment, he might be caught outside of it. Sometimes he's just there sitting in the hall, back pressed to the wall, long legs stuck out. It's a way to get fresh air without going too far; if he needs to retreat inside again, he can. Maybe you happen by him; maybe you live in one of the units near here.

Or maybe it's late at night, and you hear something outside your door, something moving down the hall. Peter's there — only he's moving slow and strange, legs shuffling heavily. Abruptly, he seems to convulse, gives a harsh gag-sound, neck tilted back to expose a throat that shudders with movement. The episode will pass by and he'll keep moving; he'll travel slowly like that, back and forth down the hall. Overhead, the lights may flicker, a droning hum growing louder and louder.

It's fine, he's not The Ghost That Haunts the Apartment Building, just a possessed guy! ]

— SUPERMARKET.

[ Peter hasn't really been.... taking care of himself. He's relied on the help of others he's been meeting in this place, people who bring him food and help him keep his clothing washed. It's mostly thank to his next-door neighbour that he hasn't died yet. But as the month stretches on, he actually heads to stores himself sometimes, on the days that could be considered "good days", anyway. They're few and far inbetween, but the rare sight of Peter walking around a supermarket isn't entirely implausible.

He's there now, slowly pushing a little shopping cart along... looking nervous and nauseated, as he usually does. He collects random items, and some of them are a little.... odd. Some he wouldn't even remember putting into his cart. (A pair of scissors? A roll of twine? He doesn't even Do Art....)

At some point, you might come across him picking out some cereal.... only it seems like Peter has left the building on all levels except physical. He's just standing there with his buggy of miscellaneous weird little items, staring blankly at the row of cereal boxes. Completely unmoving. Overhead, the bright fluorescents are blinking here and there, like something's glitching.

Or maybe you're at the back of the store, and notice that the door to the backroom is open.... that's funny. If you head in, you might find a cart of random items off to the side — is someone back here? If you keep going and find the employee break room, you'll see a teenage boy curled up on an old sofa, conked right out. And as he breathes in and out, he's giving little noises. It may be hard to distinguish them; you may need to come a little closer. If you do, you'll hear soft clipped movements of his tongue, and an odd chitter here and there. Most disconcerting of all may be the growls that ripple from his throat.

There is also always the option to encounter Peter on a random aisle, looking completely stricken, eyes wandering around and tense as he grips onto the handles of his cart and slowly moves around, then backtracks, giving a soft whine under his breath, like a dog working itself up into upset. (Is he.... lost. Lost in the supermarket..... He seems to be. Help him....) ]

— BOWLING ALLEY.

[ The bowling alley is a rare place that Peter actively seeks out for something that might be akin to comfort. There's something about the place that makes it easy to fade away the way he needs to. Once upon a time, a few years ago, he might've frequented places like this back home.

He mostly sits off by himself, but occasionally... he can actually be seen attempting to bowl. It's even less than a half-hearted attempt, ball released with no gusto behind it, no aim, he just lets them roll slowly down the lane again and again..... (Is he even having fun? He doesn't really look like it....) But it's something to do. He doesn't have to think. If someone wants to join in, however, he wouldn't be against a little game (although he won't try at all....)

Or, maybe you come across him behind the counter at the snack bar. He's here very late, when night bleeds into morning, and his dark-circled eyes are heavy with exhaustion. Is he pulling an all-nighter at the bowling alley? Seems like it. He's helping himself to nachos with copious amounts of cheese, and on the counter he also has a chili cheese dog and large slushie waiting.... While his hands work the cheese dispenser, his mouth is clamped down on a packaged pickle. Anyone else up for a late-night junk food feast? ]

---

ETC.

^{I'll be doing closed starters & tagins for event things, but all the general city / event aftermath stuff here is ota!
plot post / horreur / pm if you'd like to do something else 👻}

it's true, people take things but rarely. ( 𝑽𝑨𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺𝑨 𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑺 )

[possessum]

[ It isn't the thrill of exploration that leads Peter to the bank — or even the necessity of exploration; some others may see it that way, the newly-opened bank doors as a threshold to potential answers about this place. Its secrets.

Peter doesn't want to know. Whatever secrets are to be found in this empty city, they should stay buried with all of the other dead things he knows.

No, the only reason he ends up standing outside of that bank is because he's wandered close to it in one of his typical fugue-states, a thing that's more ghost than a person, drifting aimlessly. It happens so often to him now, half-lidded and lost. He could wind up anywhere. He does now — and it isn't curiosity that leads him inwards to step carefully against thick marble floors, breathing in cool, still air. He just doesn't know where else to go but forwards. And maybe some part of him still thinks he's dreaming, thinks if he keeps walking he'll find someone eventually, he'll wake up. (Into what, he doesn't know.)

So he moves. Though he's been cleaned up considerably since he first arrived in this place so broken and bloodied, he's still something of a startling sight. A bandaged splint is evidence of a freshly-broken nose; purple bruises blossom out from the injury, and around his eyes.

When he finds a key with his name on it, something slick and unpleasant worms its way into his stomach, then coils itself tightly there. He doesn't like it, things knowing him. Doesn't like the implication of something that needs to be found, and opened. (But despite his fear, he's so small on the inside, and enough days have passed that he's begun waking in the night crying out for his mother. He misses his family, even if....)

He has to wake up. Keep going, wake up.

He steps into the vault. And there is a box that matches the key, and all of Peter's focus is vexed on it, eyes wide. When he draws it to the table, his hands are shaking so hard that it's difficult to turn the key, and he's oblivious to anyone else who may be stepping up into the vault behind him, someone mere moments behind his journey forwards. His breath is a staggered thing as he unlocks the box and sees what's within — frozen for a long moment, before everything crumbles. He can feel the chilly wind of that afternoon, the way the grass smelled. The waves of irritation, tucked beneath the layer of numbness he'd learned how to forge for himself over the years. He only wanted to go home.

(His mother's smile that never reached her eyes, his father's smile that was always too strained. Charlie, so small and always out of place, like a little bird who fell too far from her nest—)

—Peter cries out, hands dropping the photo like it burns. It flutters to the table, and behind him, something he doesn't even register, not yet— the sound of the vault door slamming shut, and sealing everything within. ]

Alhaitham | Genshin Impact

[justscribing]

[Outside the Vault - A Side]

[Much like everyone else, the change of scene with a previously inaccessible building draws Alhaitham to the area as well. Sporting some sore bruises, but that was the interest of yesterday and today, he needs something else to do.

Outside he opens a journal to the page with a hand drawn map of the district and jots some quick notes. Once inside, he goes straight for the tills. Shaking one makes it clear it's empty, and the filing cabinets continue to have nothing but blank paper. There is so much blank paper in this place.

Next, the keys. Some have already been removed, but he takes his time finding his. Instead what he does is open the network search on his phone and start cross-referencing names he doesn't recognize. He doesn't need to check all of them, just enough random ones to confirm that these are all people who have been placed in this situation. If he's blocking access to your keys... well, wait or tell him to move.]

[Outside the Vault - B Side]

[At some point while inspecting every part of the bank except inside the vault itself, the seemingly inoperable and immobile door swings shut. Alhaitham stares, then approaches with slow curiosity. He tries the handle. He can't even budge it. There's no indication of some sort of trigger. It really seems to have just shut itself up. How curious.

So he pulls up a chair from one of the fancier banking desks and parks himself a few feet away. He takes the opportunity to open his book-turned-journal and start writing notes in the pages.

Until the vault door thunks and swings open again. He watches impassively at whatever poor souls are now staggering out of being locked in with the deposit boxes.]

Ah, so you managed to get it open.

[Around the City]

[Interest in the bank only lasts so long, and while settling in is done with some reluctance it isn't like depriving himself of comfort is going to get him out of this place any faster.

So, collecting. Can't really call it shopping when there's no actual commerce in this place. So, he spends a few days here and there stocking up on various essentials: food and hygienics, extra clothes, the usual.

The trip to a pharmacy isn't necessarily to get anything, but instead to look into something that caught his eye before: modern medicine. Over the counter aids and reliefs are noted, but Alhaitham first decides to literally jump the counter and start checking out what usually requires a prescription. Nothing in the records, of course, but he's really here to just read the descriptions and side effects and long list of chemical names.

And then there's the furniture store. Rather than looking at large pieces, Alhaitham has honed in on table décor and lamps. And he picks through them with careful consideration, thoughtful, gravitating to the most tacky, visually offensive thing he can find.

At the sound of another person's footsteps he picks up an ugly ceramic he was looking at and holds it in view.] Your thoughts?

[He's pretty confident but a second opinion on whether this is suitably terrible to put into his apartment is welcome.]

[Wildcard]

[Hit me up for anything else! My plotting comment is here and I can be reached by monochromic or PM!]

furniture store

[plunges]

[ Xiao hadn't paid much mind to the furniture store. His apartment is very bare bones, and it's somewhere he doesn't care to stay in much anyway, so he had no need to check out the store. He'd rather just look for things that he can use out of necessity.

What draws him there on the same day that Alhaitham is there, however, is that he realizes he needs a better lamp. The one he has is too dim, and he would rather grab a new one than replace the lightbulb, which he...does not know how to do. So he's here, gives Alhaitham a glance just as the other man stops to wave him over.

His thoughts, huh... ]

On what? Its usefulness, or its design?

ichigo kurosaki | bleach (closed-ish)

[zangetsu]

（ PM for a custom starter or hit me with a wildcard! ）

nebula;

[zangetsu]

（ he doesn't actually give a shit about the bank. it's a non-starter as far as he's concerned — and he never had much interest in money to begin with. when he hears the announcement, he mostly just rolls over and goes back to bed.

but he hasn't quite given up on the idea that this place is going to go sideways on them — that one day, one of these innocuous events is going to result in a lot of people being dead. what sort of awful shit can the powers-that-be get up to in a bank? probably not much, but he's not dismissing the idea out of hand.

so once with that in mind, he goes. just in case. he can be found with his hands shoved in his pockets, slouching a little. he blends in with the crowd easily enough — what's one more lanky teen with weird-coloured hair in a sea of them?

inside the vault, he mostly just wanders. checking labels, curious. maybe he'll see the name of someone he knows while he carefully chooses not to dwell on how fucking weird this all is. he wouldn't wish this place on anyone, even if it means being alone. except maybe urahara. if he could snap his fingers and will urahara here he would — as much because the guy owes him one (more than just one, but he hasn't kept score past rukia's shitty gigai) as the fact ichigo's confident he could figure out what makes the whole city tick and tear it down.

he's so lost in rumination that he doesn't even notice that most of the others have filtered out — leaving him alone with just one woman. what he does notice is that the instant she opens her security box, the doors of the vault begin to swing shut. ）

Oy!

（ the exclamation is to get her attention, as he bolts for the door. he's faster than a human has any right to be — but his efforts are still done in vain. the door seals with a hydraulic hiss, locking them behind several tonnes and nearly a meter of concrete and steel, and he collides with it a moment too late. one final, futile thump of his open palm, and then he rounds on the woman. ）

You okay?

[stubboarn]

BANK.

[ he went to explore the new area, as always, curious as to what the city has to offer this time around. a bank is new, sure, but it’s also, in his opinion, relatively useless considering there’s nothing else to put in it or exchange in it with — there’s no currency in this world, after all.

he does eventually find the rack of keys on the main hall. that his name is there worries him. he takes his name, wondering if anyone’s gotten to his box before he has considering there’s no one guarding them, and heads to the vault.

in the safety deposit box is the hilt of a familiar dagger. no blade.

dimitri stares at it in his hands, a feeling of dread passing over him. ]

Why, for all of that trouble — it must be an omen —

[ he grits his teeth and puts it back.

he’s halfway on his way out and then he takes the hilt back from the vault. ]

What am I doing? What am I doing …

[ never mind him as he talks to himself. he’s feeling agitated. ]



WILDCARD.

ooc; if you want something more generic, i’ve got a catch-all log for this month as well.

[lockingout]

[ Lockon's with Dimitri in thinking that the bank is an entirely useless place to have. It's just that they don't really have anything better to do than explore it and hope against all reason that it turns up something moderately useful.

So. Here Lockon is, holding a key with his own name on it in hand.

He gets the feeling he walked into a private moment for Dimitri here, so he gives him a sheepish smile. ]

I think we've all asked ourselves as much in our time here. Are you alright?

[ Weird vibe aside, it's nice to run into him again. Dimitri was the first friendly soul he encountered in the city after all. ]