[closed] california's a garden of eden

[metafictions]

Who ⬤ Kamui & friends
What ⬤ Kamui has a fun time at the festival-- until, of course, the festival stops being fun.
When ⬤ During and after the Night Parade
Where ⬤ Around the city
Content Warnings ⬤ slapstick dildo violence, the backdrop of the bathhouse orgy but no actual sex, actual violence later

while these prompts are closed, please feel free to hit my plotting comment if you'd like a starter!


[art source]

Comments

it's np!! i've been riding the struggle bus too, ahaha...

[deadtective]

[there's nothing accidental about anything here, no matter how deranged it may seem to an outside perspective, and when Hazel hears what she believes could be a familiar voice protesting her choices it only hardens her resolve. this was a guy just learning to enjoy festivals; how could she let somebody like that take her place in front of danger?]

You don't fucking get it - this can't hurt me. Sit the fuck down, dude!

[one, two bullets come screaming through the air and she doesn't so much as turn her head in the direction of the noise. whether she's bluffing about her impervious nature it's clear that any self-preservation has long since evaporated from this girl. she even makes a motion as if she's about to try and push Kamui by the shoulders to keep him down before that followup bullet does the job for her.

shit. those were definitely creeping in, weren't they?

she didn't have a gun. why would she have a fucking gun? her clan would probably suggest absorbing the bullets with her vulva or some stupid shit like that, to say nothing of the fact she's barely ever fired one in her life. she's got a knife, though, and more importantly - she's got some firecrackers she'd pocketed from the setup for the parade. they'd been intended for more mischievous purposes down the line, but it seemed as if those plans were going up in as much smoke as was presently surrounding them. fishing one out of her jacket pocket, she cast her gaze back to Kamui while digging around for the lighter. of all the fucking times-!]

You can book it when I start tossing these. Should pull in all the gunfire for a little while.

[metafictions]

Wait a minute.

[At last, the familiarity of Hazel's voice registers. Through the chaos of the crossfire, he calls:] Stitches? That's you, right?!

[He can't get properly in front of her this way, nor can he stop her from pushing him aside when he's still trying not to get peppered with bullets. And, either way-- blinded by the smoke like this and with the gunfire slowly drawing nearer and nearer, the two of them are sitting ducks whether or not he's providing cover. Fortunately, Hazel's got a plan B. Kamui has to admit: the firecrackers are as good an idea as any in the spot they're in now.

He's not going to question why the bullets won't hurt her, though. That's a topic for when they've found safety. ]

Better idea: we are booking it. [Whether or not she feels it, if she gets shot up, she's going to have a hard time making it out alive. (But that begs the question: if she can't feel it, can she... even die?)] It'll distract them long enough for the two of us to get out of here.

[A bullet whizzes by, missing his cheek by inches. He freezes.]

You've got a light, right?!