#kobra kid is the brother we all wish we had

[ghostinthez0nes]

Kobra Kid Headcanons lets go

Likes tight clothing, makes him feel more secure and safe.

Will teach you karate if you bribe him enough, but it takes a’lot of bribing.

Doesn’t really care about gender or pronouns, but likes xe/xer pronouns because they sound cool.

Touch his hair and he’ll bite your hand.

Motorbike stunts for days.

A short fuse but a master at keeping cool. When he’s really pissed tho someone will get their teeth knocked in.

Doesn’t admit it but relies heavily on Party to keep his head above water.

Prefers driving around at night when it’s quieter and less bright.

Loves sweet and spicy food, bonus points if its both.

Becomes aggressive when overwhelmed and scared.

Loves sunrises. He will sometimes stay up all night just so he can watch the sun come up early in the morning.

Party helped make his helmet, they’re to thank for the paint job.

Keeps a little dino keychain in his pocket at all times.

Has horrible tan lines from wearing his sunglasses too long in the sun.

Flappy hands and stompy feet when excited.

Light sensitive, thus the sunglasses. Wears them indoors and at night too.

The most anxious around injuries, he doesn’t like blood.

Snorts when he laughs.

Loves the desert and the freedom that comes with it.

Has a very keen sense of smell and is very good at figuring out where the smell is coming from.

Knows sign language and uses it instead of speaking to communicate sometimes.

Absolutely HATES powerpup but forces himself to eat it if theres nothing else even if it makes him sick. Party tries really hard to look for other kinds of food when going on supply runs so his poor brother can eat.

Chews on the straps of his leather gloves when anxious.

Really likes bubbles.

Sleeps in his jacket for security.

A troublemaker with Ghoul and always finds ways to pull off stupid shit with him.

Likes Michael Bay movies.

Hardly ever cries, but when he does it’s cathartic. The others need to intervene because he chokes up while he’s heaving.

Prefers comics over books, he likes looking at pictures better.

Only the girl is allowed to doodle on his bike, if the others try he will deck them.

Most terrified of being captured by Bli, he doesn’t ever want to go back to the city.

Can play the harmonica really well.

Loves old and broken technology because he thinks its cool and likes to fix things.

Teaches the others to read, especially Jet and Ghoul. Ghoul can read but has dyslexia, Jet never really learned how to read properly at all.

Will try to pet any reptile he sees, even if its venomous or poisonous.

Can sleep sitting up, the others sometimes need to do a double take and check if he’s awake or not since he always wears sunglasses.

Obsessed with VHS tapes and has a collection of them with god knows what on them.

Freezes when panicking, will stay in shock at something until someone needs to move him.

Likes close range combat so he can show off his karate skills.

Instead of cussing in an argument he’ll just look at someone like they’re stupid.

Makes action figures for the girl out of spare parts, responsible for all of her robot toys.

Takes AGES to do his hair, hence why he wants no one to touch it.

If he’s not in his room at night, he’s on the diner roof watching the stars.

When the girl was a toddler, she would call him Kobi instead of Kobra.

Has a wide vocabulary due to being educated in the city, but refuses to use it.

Lost a tooth after an accident on the crash track, he gave it to Ghoul who turned it into a pendant.

[xxfangirl365xx]

Kobra Kid's answer to : "What is a day you'll never forget?"

Written in my wattpad a few months ago, i posted Jet's here so I'm doing Kobra's too (: enjoyyyy

Mines nothing in comparison to Jet's. I'm gonna go with a nice one. I'm not huge on being sentimental but the day Poison won a bunch of awards for his art in a zone wide exhibit was a great day.

It was mid July 2017. Girl had just come to live with us maybe a month earlier. We had gotten word about a big exhibit that was gonna happen in zone five. Poison had always been a bit of an artist and that's what he always wanted to do with his life before BL/I. He tried to keep his skill sharp in the zones but with limited supplies it was really hard. Honestly it made me really sad to see his dreams crushed. We had been trying to convince him to enter for several days before he gave in. He painted and drew all sorts of things. Scenery, people, emotions...it was really cool. We drove out to zone five and he submitted almost a dozen pieces. We walked around to look at the other entries while they were being judged.

" I wish I hadn't done this." He whined

" Why?" Jet asked

" Because...Look at this stuff... Mine's nothing like theirs." he said sadly gesturing to all the colorful papers and canvas spread out around him.

" Oh stop it." Jet said playfully smacking him

" Your stuff is way better, Pois." Ghoul said trying to cheer him up

" If I were a judge I wouldn't even bother looking at the rest of this stuff. Yours is clearly the best." He finished

" Mmm."Poison said, still not buying it.

" It's really good." Girl said running up next to the red head.

" You're an amazing art dude." She said smiling

He smiled at her, " Thank you Missile." He said bending over to give her a hug.

We all kinda separated and walked around separately but I stayed with my brother.

We walked quietly for a while just looking at the many painted and pastel cacti and sunsets... I'm not an expert but it seemed a little generic to me. I could tell he was getting sadder by the second feeling so much more inferior to the more established artists. Poison has always lacked self confidence in everything. His appearance,personality, skills. And he shouldn't feel bad because he's a unique human being and that's something to be proud of.

Poison sighed.

" You know even if you don't win I'm still proud of you Pois." I said

" You should save the pride for something worth it." He said sadly looking at a charcoal sketch of yet another cactus.

" Nope. I'm still proud of you. And I always will be no matter what you do." I said again.

"..."

" Alright Poison. Enough self pity. Look at this stuff. It's all the same thing. Sunsets and cactus. Boring bland colors and no emotion behind it right?" I asked

" I mean...sorta."

" And you put thought and emotion into your stuff. Colors and variation. "

" Thats-"

" Let me put it this way." I interrupted turning to face him.

" These guys may have some talent and knowledge for sure. They have no creativity to back it up. It's just knowledge.It's kinda like how most people can write...but only a few people can ACTUALLY write, and have a story to tell or a message to get across." I finished. He thought for a second.

" So please...don't be down on yourself for having something a lot of people can only dream of. Both knowledge AND creativity." I said, pulling him into a tight hug.

He hugged me back and I could feel him release all the tension in his body.

" Thanks Kobra." He said

" Anytime. "

*STATIC*

"WILL PARTY POISON PLEASE MAKE THEIR WAY TO THE JUDGES TABLE AT THIS TIME" a loudspeaker screeched out

" I saw a flash of fear in my brother's eyes.

" relax. You got this alright?" I said

" Yeah... " He said walking away. He looked back at me and I gave him a thumbs up.

I found Jet, Ghoul and Girl.

" Why did they want Poison?" Ghoul asked

" Dunno..." I responded.

*STATIC*

"WINNERS HAVE BEEN ANNOUNCED AT THE JUDGES TABLE! THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO PARTICIPATED THIS YEAR AND WE CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU ALL AGAIN NEXT YEAR!"

They went to the front as they were instructed and saw Poison grinning ear to ear with all his colorful creations displayed hung with diy ribbon's. He ran up to us and immediately hugged me.

" Thank you for always believing in my Kobra." He whispered

" Anytime." I said

He was wearing a scratched and chipped gold metal with the engraving of " Track and Field champions" crossed out with a sharpie to read " Reigning Zone art champion."

Everyone hugged and congratulated him. He picked up Missile Kid and spun her around while she laughed.

" I told you you'd win!" she exclaimed.

I Know it's nothing I really did but I'm still proud of my big brother for everything he has done and has yet to do. He's been competing and winning competitions all over the Zones ever since and I'm so happy to see him being what he always wanted to be.

Anyways, thanks for listening to me ramble,

Kobra Kid out

[life-love-and-lotr]

@chaos-in-bright-pink-hair-dyes Killjoy Week Day 4- Waste

My parents called me a waste all the time. A waste of space. A waste of energy. A waste of resources. All because I lived my life differently than what was expected of me.

It's funny looking back on my life in the city and realising how fucked up it all was. I was 10 years old when my wonderful father said that to me for the first time. I was playing with Kobra in the living room and I broke my dad's favourite statue. He didn't take it very well and screamed in my face about how disappointed he was. It really felt like he didn't like me and I think he wished he never had kids. But that was what top Exterminators where expected to do. Kill joys and pump out children to carry on the family traditions. That didn't go very well and soon after we where out of his hair.

It took me so long to unlearn all that hatred. My first year of being out here was awful. I constantly doubted myself, worrying about whether I was worth being here with other amazing killjoys. Self-doubt kills you in the desert. Almost got myself ghosted in a clap because I overthought a shot and the dracs got there first. That made the feelings way worse and sorta made me a recluse.

Then you all came along. The day Ghoul arrived in our lives started the whole healing process. You taught me how to roll with the punches, take things as they come and have a bloody good time doing it. The world just thinks I started out confident. But it was you who taught that to me. Then Motorbaby stormed in, taking us to her brother and changing my life yet again. Jet is the type of person who can take a panic attack and calm it down in silence. You taught me to take my time, find moments of inner peace and gave me permission to get it wrong. You taught me the impulse control needed to be a true leader. Motorbaby, the most joyful joy this side of Zone 6. You are just the sweetest most creative of us, teaching me how to let my creativity flow and also influencing my now impeccable sense of fashion. Now wherever I go I can share that with the world giving hope to those who need it.

Last but certainly not least there is Kobra. You have been by my side for as long as I can remember. The day you came home from the hospital was the best day of my life in the city. I can instantly recall the feeling of your tiny hands as you gripped my pinky finger. That was the day I decided to be better than my father. To show you how a true man treats the people he loves. And I know I did well because look at you. People on the outside only see you as a stone-cold killer, but we all know it's a shield to protect yourself. We all see your kind side, the one always on hand to help. The one that was the first to get to Jet when he needed to get medical attention. We all see your gentle side. The one that tells Motorbaby (and Ghoul) the best bedtime stories. And I see the love only a brother can give. The type of love that doesn't pretend. That is brutally honest when needed and knows when to back off. That saved a boy broken beyond repair.

You all helped me realise that I am not a waste. I belong here just like all of you. Thank you.

[killjoysfromyesterday]

all her skies are yellow

new drabble! wrote this during english today. not proofread whatsoever but it’s 10pm pls cut me some slack lmao

summary: set a few months after sing, jet survived.

content warning: slight su*cidal ideation, bl**d, raygun usage

word count: 2,176

"you let us die. why were you the only one to get out? you're a monster, jet." jet can imagine the way kobra's lips turn up into a snarl with his words, the same way he'd talk to dracs during claps, and jet recoils.

jet can't even get in a word to kobra because poison's stepping up, footsteps always so hard, and once again he can see it in his head: poison's eyes always lighted with fury that almost matches the cherry red of their hair.

"you think you're brave? that you're a killjoy like we were? you can't even see anymore." their voice is cruel and jet's heart is going rabbit-fast in his chest, he's pretty sure he's gonna pass out.

"it's all dark, isn't it? that's what you deserve." ghoul pipes up. jet can't help but agree.

and then there's soft footsteps around him, and he braces because he expects to be kicked, but then somebody's got a hand hooked under his jaw to force him to look up. of course, he can't see who it is, but their presence feels familiar. too familiar.

"you're nothing." the voice says, words light as feathers but hitting jet like a ton of bricks.

ma.

the hand on his face is snatched away, and he barely manages to catch himself with his hands and avoid faceplanting onto the ground below him.

there's a cold barrel of a ray gun pressed between his eyes. he knows it's her, because he can hear the far-off cackles of ghoul and the venom siblings.

his ma is going to kill him. he disappoints her that much. he wants to talk, wants to beg for his life, but he can't. the words are stuck in his throat. why would he beg? it's not like he's got any purpose here any more. the girl's got pony, doc, and cherri; she's in good hands. he only weighs them down, hiding away in the shadows and never leaving his room. he's another mouth to feed, and he can't even fucking see now.

"you should've been a better son." she says, voice just like he remembers it as a kid when she sang him to sleep, except now it's nothing but knives that cut straight through and lodge so deep he thinks her words are just enough to kill him. he wants her to just shoot, he doesn't want to think about it anymore. he hopes the witch has room for him.

except she doesn't shoot, just rears back the barrel of the gun and hits him between the eyes so hard that the blackness of his vision fuzzes and spins before he jolts awake with a start, still in his bed at the station.

he's gasping for air, hands flying up to his throat because it feels like his lungs are simultaneously working double time and not working at all, he's getting lightheaded and there's alarms going off in his head.

it's all so loud, he needs it all to stop. he can't think, it's so, so loud, he can hear his blood rushing in his ears. his ma's voice is playing over and over in his head, he can't, he just needs it all to shut up, he-

"you're nothing." her voice repeats like she's standing right there next to him, and he falls off the mattress trying to flinch away from her. he's scooting back, the noises of things falling and breaking with his scared movements are so loud. something falls and he whimpers, clamping his hands over his ears.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i don't know, i'm s-"  he's choking, coughing and sputtering and he thinks he's dying. maybe this is how he's supposed to go, the witch just kept him alive for longer than the others as a cruel mockery. she's gonna come and take him away any minute.

poison's talking again, and it's drowned out by ghoul's cackling and kobra's snarling. he's got his legs curled to his chest, and he buries his head between his knees.

he wraps his arms around his torso protectively, trembling so hard he can barely keep himself backed into the corner. his shirt feels wet, and he knows he's most likely torn a few of the stitches on his chest. the stitches over the raygun blast that nearly killed him that night. he wishes it had.

he can still feel the hood of the car, he's staring up at the city sky, thinking the witch was gonna take him. no, instead she had just frowned at him in his dreams and swiped her hand over his face, and the sight in his working eye was no more.

now he's sniffling, arms wrapped around himself so tight he can feel his ribs. he needs to eat. that's what doc tells him. maybe doc would agree with his mom, he's a failure. who would willingly parent such a wreck?

he's twenty-three, he's lived in the desert his whole life. he should be able to process death by now. but instead, he's hiding and shaking like a stray dog. witch, the blood is seeping through his shirt now and onto his hands.

the words of his ma and the others hit a crescendo and he digs his nails into his face, hands clapped over his eyes. he wants to hide. he knows he's probably getting blood all over himself, but better that it's his own than someone else's. he's had too much blood of others on his hands, both figuratively and literally.

he can hear other voices, there's footsteps out in the hall and he knows they're looking for him. shit, he woke them up. he just hopes the girl hasn't woken up.

the door creaks open and he cringes, and little footsteps patter across the floor. well, that question is answered. he grimaces.

"found him!" the girl shouts back in the direction of the hallway.

"you should go back and rest." cherri's voice is hoarse with sleep. it makes jet feel a million times worse.

"but-" she asks, voice trailing off.

"girly. go on." doc says. he sounds the same, he's likely been up for hours. he almost never sleeps anymore. the girl huffs but her footsteps disappear down the hallway and jet assumes she's gone back to her room.

"you opened your stitches." cherri says. he's closer now, his voice is soft. jet doesn't answer, and when cherri goes to touch his arm, jet's hands tear away from his face and he curls himself closer into the corner.

"oh, jet..." pony's voice is behind cherri now, soft and sympathetic. jet wraps his arms back around his torso, fingers digging so hard into his sides he knows he's gonna have bruises. it's the only thing grounding him right now.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry-" he's rambling again.

"sorry for what, tumbleweed?" doc asks. doc hasn't called him that since he was a kid. it just makes jet feel even worse.

jet doesn't know how to answer him, doesn't know how to tell him he's sorry because he lived and they didn't. so instead he just shakes his head and digs his nails even further into his ribs.

he doesn't know how to tell doc that he feels so alone, that his bedroom feels like a prison and he thinks he'd be better off with his mask in the mailbox.

doc always tells him the girl needs him now more than ever, but jet has a hard time believing him. jet can't even see her anymore, her smile has been replaced by the permanent black fuzziness that is his vision now.

poison and kobra are yelling in his ears again, and ghoul sneers so sharply it makes his head hurt. he just wants it to stop. his ma was right. he's nothing.

why did he have to be the one to get out that night? and not the others? poison is- no, was (it hurts to correct himself) poison was a natural born leader, kobra was a genius, and ghoul had so much spirit.

who was he? just the damaged, desertborn kid they hauled around with them? the fact that he made it out was a sick joke.

witch, it's all too much. he's gonna be sick.

"c'mon, let's get you cleaned up." cherri says. jet doesn't want to get up, he just wants to be left alone, but he still stands up on shaky legs and follows cherri to the bathroom.

jet slides onto the edge of the tub, hands gripping onto the sides harder than necessary. cherri's turned the sink on, jet can hear the water running.

"look up." cherri says, and jet tilts his head up so cherri can swipe a washcloth across the scarred mess that is his eyes to wash away the blood that smeared from his chest to his hands and ultimately onto his face when he was panicking. it reminds him entirely too much of the encounter with his ma in his nightmare, and he resists the overwhelming urge to pull away.

"jet, i'm sure you can understand why we're worried." cherri says. his way of enunuciating every syllable is odd to jet, city kids in general are weird, but kobra and poison never had the poshness in their voice like cherri does. it doesn't match cherri, jet thinks.

"these nightmares are getting worse. you're not eating too well, either. you of all people should know how important food is." cherri says.

jet knows that cherri didn't mean it that way, but his words felt like a jab at the fact jet was homeless as a kid. jet just clenches his jaw as he hears cherri put the washcloth away. cherri turns back to him, sitting on the edge of the tub next to him.

"what's really going on?" cherri asks. and then the words are tumbling out of jet's mouth before he can stop them and shove them back in, permanently bottled up in the pit of his stomach.

"i'm a monster. it's my fault, isn't it?" jet asks quietly. the question's been weighing in his head for so long that it feels strange to speak it out loud.

"what?" cherri asks.

"it's my fault they're gone."

"jet." cherri's voice sounds firmer than before.

"no, it's true. please don't try to-"

"jet, you're not a monster. you're like a little brother to me. the others were too. and doc? doc can't handle losing you too. he's already gone a little funny in the head, he's asking where kobra and ghoul are constantly. the girl, she's..."

"she's fine without me." jet interrupts, voice small.

"you have no clue." cherri sighs.

"what?"

"she's not okay without you. she's so scared, jet. pony dropped a pan yesterday and she ran like a bat out of hell. she thought it was a raygun blast." cherri says.

"she misses you so much. you know, she still sets aside the blue crayons for you when she colors. all her skies are yellow now.” cherri chuckles sadly. jet can imagine it in his head, and it makes him too damn sad to think about it for long. the girl setting aside his favorite color for him, and he's barely left his room since they both came back.

"i'd just scare her now." jet mutters. the texture of his face is enough to tell him he doesn't look the same. the gnarled scars covering his face are mostly healed now. sure, he's been missing his right eye since before the girl was born, but it wasn't as bad. she grew up knowing the singular, thin scar across the bridge of jet's nose. what she doesn't know nearly as well is the raygun blast scars from that night, the ones that hit him before the final shot to his chest that sent him back against the hood of the trans am.

"i know you think you're doing the best thing for her by staying away, but she needs you, jet. now more than ever."

"you're slipping, jet. we don't want to lose you too. the girl can't handle losing you." cherri says, and his voice sounds suspiciously tearful.

"you won't."

"then promise me. promise me things will change and we won't have to have this same conversation in a month." cherri's practically begging now. jet doesn't answer.

he can't.

they've had this exchange before, and nothing changed. he can't promise to cherri that things will change this time either, because witch, it's so easy to just hide away. it's so easy to curl up in his bed and think about what could've been. it's so easy to sit there until the grief washes over him like a wave and he's practically drowning himself to feel past the ebbing and flowing numbness that settles in his bones now.

"if you're not gonna do it for me, do it for her. please, jet." cherri pleads, but jet barely hears him because he's thinking about the girl drawing pictures with yellow skies.

"i promise.”

[always-and-forever-a-killjoy]

Good afternoon fuckers, I wrote approximately 3k words in between roleplay, looking after kittens, and

Title: knight in a beat-up green jacket

Wordcount: 3055

Summary: Jet Star and the Kobra Kid are injured. Party Poison is having a rough time. Cherri Cola just wants to be helpful.

Warnings: Major warnings for hospitals, mentions of/implied serious injuries, and mentions of death as well as general awfulness. Please be careful when reading!

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

Party Poison was going to cry. Or scream. Or pass out. Because the report had come in, Dr. Death Defying’s gravelly voice echoing through the radio with the dreadful news. Bad news from the zones tumbleweeds. It looks like Jet-Star and the Kobra kid had a clap with an exterminator that went all Costa Rica and uh, got them selves ghosted, dusted out on route Guano. And Poison’s world had shattered.

They and Fun Ghoul had driven out, as fast as the Trans Am would take them, searching for their brother and friend. Kobra’s bike had been lying on its side by the side of the road, broken and scorched, just like his brother’s body would be-

But Kobra had been alive, if barely, and so had Jet. So Ghoul and Poison had bundled them in and rushed them to the hospital, and the doctors had taken then away without even a single reassurance. All they had gotten was a grim “We’ll do our best,” from the head medic. And now Ghoul had xyr head in xyr hands as he and Poison waited anxiously and Poison was going to pass out. They followed Ghoul’s lead and buried their head in their hands, trying to breathe and mostly failing. Kobra could be dead right now, Jet could be gone and Poison wouldn’t even know, not until the dour-faced head medic came out and told them so. Their brother could be dying, in pain and without his friends, and Poison wouldn’t even be there. 

Just as it seemed like they couldn’t bear it any longer, rough, scarred hands materialized in their field of vision, pulling their hands away from their face.

“Poison. Poison.”

“Fuck off,” Poison choked out.

“Poison,” Cherri Cola’s voice said again, very patiently. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“Nothing is going to be okay!”

“It is, I promise. I’m here-“

“And what’s a fucking wavehead going to do?”

They almost regretted the words, watching Cherri flinch. His voice was calm though, when he next spoke. “I checked in with the medics. Kobra is stabilized, but not ready for visitors. Jet isn’t out of the woods yet, but they think he’s going to be okay.”

Poison froze at that, hardly daring to hope. “They’re going to be okay?”

“They’re going to be okay.” Cherri was still holding their hands away from their face, squeezing them gently in his rough, calloused ones, but he let go and reached to wipe a couple of tears Party hadn’t realized were there off their cheeks. “It’s okay, don’t cry. They’re going to be alright.”

That only made them cry harder, more tears pouring down their face. A strangled sob made its way out of their throat, and they crumpled entirely, throwing their arms around Cola. His arms were warm when they wrapped around Poison in return, rocking them gently back and forth. 

“Shh. Shhh. It’s okay.” Cherri kept repeating that until Poison’s sobs turned to sniffles, making vague noises of comfort as they took a few shuddering breaths.

He didn’t release them until a medic came over to tap him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, are you Cherri Cola?”

“That’s me. Is there word on Kobra and Jet?”

“The Kobra Kid is ready for visitors, if you want. He’s not awake yet,” they added as Poison sat up straight, clutching Cherri’s shoulders. “But you can go see him.”

“All of us?” Cherri asked, frowning.

“Only one visitor at a time.”

Poison leapt to their feet. Their throat didn’t seem to want to form words, so they gave Cherri their most pleading glance, practically begging. Thank the Phoenix Witch, he quickly nodded. “Poison will go, of course. I’ll stay here with Ghoul.”

Ghoul didn’t question that, and Cherri gave Poison’s hand a quick squeeze, flashing them a small smile. “Go on, see your brother.”

They tried to smile back, letting go of his hand as the medic led them through the whitewashed halls. It was too similar to Battery City for their liking, but at least in this building the paint was chipped and scratched, bits of graffiti scrawled occasionally here and there. Poison tried to focus on that instead of what this place reminded them of or where, exactly, they were going. 

It felt like both too long and too short before they were entering a hospital room, staring at the figure on the bed. Kobra was so still, unnaturally so. Not that he was usually energetic, per se, but he was never perfectly still, always fiddling with something or other. He looked small lying there- he always looked small to Poison, even if they were a frankly unfair amount shorter, but now he looked even smaller than normal. There were bandages wrapped all around his shoulder and upper arm, and an IV sticking out of his other arm. Poison wanted to cry just looking at him, but their tears were all cried out so they settled for sitting in the chair beside him, grasping his hand tightly even though they knew he couldn’t feel it. 

Kobra didn’t wake, but Poison thought they caught a tiny bit of movement, and their heart skipped a beat. “Kobra? Kobra?��� He didn’t stir, and Poison settled back again, not releasing his hand. They were never letting him go again, they decided. 

True to their resolve, they didn’t move an inch until the medic came back to kick them out, insisting that the doctors needed to look at their brother. Poison was left to find their way back on their own, winding through the too-white hallways and trying not to think.

Ghoul was asleep on Cola’s lap when they arrived back at the lobby, curled like a cat, and Cola put a finger to his lips in the universal motion of ‘shh’. 

Poison approached quietly, settling next to the other two. “Ghoulie fell asleep?”

“Cried xemself to sleep,” Cola whispered, brushing a hand over xyr hair. “How’s Kobra?”

They could feel tears prickle their eyes again, remembering Kobra’s still body, but they blinked those away fiercely. “He’s…alive. Still passed the fuck out, but alive.”

“Thank the witch.”

“Any word on Jet?”

Cola shook his head. “I’m assuming they’re alive, since no one’s come to tell me otherwise, but no word otherwise.”

“That was so reassuring.”

He just sighed, the sigh turning into a yawn halfway through. “I wish I had more news to tell you, but no one’s told me anything- the reason I was the one being told news earlier is because I technically ‘checked them in’. I think you and Ghoul were having too much of a rough time.”

Cola’s yawn made Party yawn as well, rubbing at their eyes. “They just rushed Jet and Kobes in, didn’t ask us anything. We went and sat down, and then you showed up.”

“Ah. Yeah. They were looking around for people who were with the two injured ‘joys when I came in, I figured I’d just give them the info they needed.”

It rankled their pride to admit they had needed help, but “Thank you, Cola.”

That earned them a faint smile. “Never thought I’d live to see the day you didn’t call me Pepsi.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Of course not.”

They definitely weren’t leaning against him, not at all. That would be very undignified for Party Poison, leader of the Fabulous Killjoys. But they didn’t protest when Cola wrapped his free arm around them cautiously, pulling them closer on the shitty hospital waiting chairs as Ghoul snored quietly. And if they leaned a bit on his shoulder, who was going to say anything?

-

The next morning, Party Poison woke up in a shitty hospital chair with Cherri Cola’s head leaning on top of theirs and Fun Ghoul stretched across both their and Cola’s laps. All in all, not the weirdest place they had ever woken up, but it was definitely up there. Especially given that there was a killjoy (neutral?) in the colors of a medic standing in front of them. 

“Ahem, excuse me?”

Poison blinked at them. “Fuck off, my crew’s sleeping.”

“Your friend is awake.”

They sat straight up, knocking Cherri’s head off them (to a lot of swearing from him, which they ignored). “Which one?”

The medic checked their chart.  “The killjoy known as Jet Star.”

“And they’re awake?”

“Yes, but there are some…complications.”

Cola was somewhat more awake by now, blinking and yawning with another muttered “Shit.” He pushed his hair out of his face. “What complications?”

“They’ve lost an eye.”

Poison appreciated, in some distant corner of their mind, the way that the medic didn’t try to sugarcoat the words. They just said it, straight-up, which was far better than dancing around the subject, in Poison’s opinion. But the greater part of their mind was involved with worrying about Jet. How were they going to take the news? Would it be harder for them to do what they needed? Would they be freaked out? 

“Fucking shit,” Ghoul swore from Poison’s lap, and they almost jumped. They hadn’t realized xe was awake. “Can I see them?”

“Yes, but only one visitor at a time.”

Ghoul cast Poison a pleading look. Although they would never admit it, not in this lifetime or the next, his puppy-dog eyes were very convincing. Not to mention that the worry in them broke Poison’s fucking heart. “Go on. I saw Kobra, you can see Jet.”

“Thanks, Pois!” Ghoul leapt up, almost toppling to the ground, and hurried after the departing medic.

Cola yawned and blinked at Poison. “Good morning, I guess. Sorry about falling asleep on your head.”

“I fell asleep on your shoulder, it’s fine.” They weren’t paying much attention to him, busy worrying about Kobra. “You think the medics would let me see Kobes?”

“Worth a shot.” He yawned again, running a hand through his messy hair. “If you want, I can talk to the head medic. They seem to have a soft spot for younger ‘joys, they’d probably let you see your brother if we ask nicely.”

Poison ignored the weird surge of guilt that Cola still hadn’t gotten to see either Kobra or Jet. They hadn’t seen Jet, and Ghoul hadn’t seen Kobra, so why should Cherri fucking Cola get to see either of them? “Great, let’s go ask.”

Cherri led them across the room, heading up to the tall and dour medic who had told Poison “We’ll do our best.”

“Hey.” Their voice was flat and calm.

“Hey…senior medic Dowdy, was it?” Cola’s voice was neutral bordering on friendly, and the medic’s face softened as Poison came to stand next to him.

“That’s my name, yep. And you are…Cherri Cola?”

Cherri nodded. “And this is Party Poison.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m assuming you two are here about seeing your friends?”

“We were hoping Poison might be able to see their brother, the Kobra Kid, since our other friend Fun Ghoul is with Jet Star right now.”

“Ah.” Dowdy frowned. “Well, Kobra isn’t awake yet, but I don’t think some visitors would hurt. Come on, both of you.”

Poison glanced at Cola, finding him already staring back.

“I don’t have to come,” he said quietly. “If you’d rather visit Kobra alone.”

Even though Cola had offered, and even if they didn’t trust him all too far, Poison didn’t have the will to keep him from seeing their brother. “You can come, but it’s not pretty.”

“Believe it or not, I’m rather used to not pretty.”

“Oh, I believe it.”

Cola’s voice softened slightly. “I think it’s harder for you to see him than me to see him, so the only question is if it’s harder for you to have me there.”

Why was he so goddamn fucking nice? “I don’t care.”

“I’m coming, then.”

Poison would never have admitted it, not in a thousand years or more, but it was nice to have Cherri next to them when walking the halls of this too-clean building where they weren’t in control of a single goddamn thing. They hated feeling helpless, always had, but at least with Cherri Cola there (and still trying to get his fucking hair to stay out of his face), they didn’t have to feel alone.

Another thing they would never admit to was the way they reached back, fumbling for Cola’s hand as they entered the room. It was long habit, forged by a good while of reaching for Jet whenever shit went south, but they never intended to reach for Cola of all people. Ghoul, at least, would have been understandable- xe was a member of Party’s crew- but Cola? Absolutely fucking not. 

Thank the Phoenix Witch, he said nothing about it, simply giving their hand a small squeeze. Poison didn’t squeeze back, but they didn’t let go either, not even at Cola’s tiny gasp upon seeing Kobra. Their brother looked not much better than yesterday, still far too small and far too still, but as they watched, he shifted slightly.

“He’s on his way to getting better. Assuming he does recover, we predict it will be one or two more days before he’s awake,” Dowdy informed them. “Now, I’ve got other patients to attend to, I’ll come kick you out if I need.”

Poison damn near cried, thanking every deity out there that Cherri was too absorbed in watching Kobra to even notice. He had moved. He was alive, and on his way to well. Poison thanked every deity out there for that as well, even muttering a few prayers under their breath.

Once the initial relief had worn off, it was back to watching their baby brother lay there, quiet as anything and still too fucking still.

“He looks so still. Still and small,” Cherri said softly. 

Poison hated that his first thought was the same as their first thought. “He’s too fucking small. And too fucking quiet.”

Cherri nodded and squeezed their hand again. “He’ll get better though.”

“You trust the medic?” It wasn’t like they trusted his word much, but Cola did know just about everyone in the Zones and the reputations thereof.

“Dowdy’s been working at this hospital for as long as I’ve been in the Zones. I’d trust them with my life- and I trust them with Kobra’s, which might be worth more.”

Poison shot him a glance. “Look, it’s not like I wouldn’t be sadder if Kobes died than if you did, but I’d still be sad.”

His smile was wry. “I didn’t realize you cared so much.”

“You’re a decent person, even if you’re insufferably nice.” They shrugged. “Plus, Kobes likes you.” 

“So not too personal then.”

“You’re my brother’s friend, nothing more.”

Cola gave them a small nod of acknowledgement. “I don’t mind, so long as all of you are safe.” 

“Stop being insufferably nice.”

“Then how will I be insufferable?”

“You could try not being insufferable,” they muttered.

He grinned. “I could, but there’s no fun in that. Besides, my plan is working. I’ve distracted you from worrying.”

Poison glared at him, but something he had said jogged at their memory. “You’re a bastard, but uh...sorry for being a dick to you when you first got here.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“No, it was shitty of me. I should’ve dealt with stuff without being pissy at you, even if I was worried.” They stared at the floor.

Cherri sounded both surprised and happy when he next spoke. “Well. Thank you, Poison. That was a nice apology.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

“No, seriously, I’m proud of you. You’re getting better at acknowledging your actions.” 

Poison looked up and made an ick face at him. “You sound like every other adult.”

“I am almost thirty, you know.”

“Old person.” 

“Hey! Rude youngster!” He was smiling though, and so was Poison, the shitty situation briefly forgotten.

“You guys are fucking loud.”

Party Poison’s head whipped around so fast their neck hurt, turning to see Kobra Kid blink sleepily from the bed. “What?” was all they could think to say.

His voice was quiet, but it was there. “Said what I said. You guys are fucking loud.”

The noise they made was halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Of course the first thing you do when you wake up is complain.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re a little bitch.”

There were tears rolling down Poison’s cheeks now, but they couldn’t muster the energy to care. “Fuckface.”

“Bastard.”

“Bitch boy.”

“Baby fucker.”

“Dipshit.” 

“Asshole.” Kobra turned his head vaguely towards Cherri. “So how long have you loud bastards been stuck with each other?”

“Only since yesterday,” Cola told him. “When you and Jet came in.”

“Is Jet okay?”

Poison shot Cola a warning glare as he opened his mouth. “They’re going to be fine.” Kobra could find out later. 

Thank the witch, Cola nodded along. “They’ll be okay.”

“Good.” Kobra’s eyes were drooping again. “Now shut up and let me sleep.”

Dowdy arrived back a few minutes after that, and kicked them out just as promised. And thus began their second round of waiting, this time waiting for their friends’ recovery as opposed to news of them.

Cherri Cola stayed with Poison in the lobby as they waited for Fun Ghoul, and then he offered to wait with Ghoul while Poison went to see Jet. He waited with them through the next night and most of the next morning, until Kobra was awake again, and he stayed right by Poison’s side when Jet Star came down to the lobby for the first time, soon to be released from the hospital. Cherri was there when they had to help Kobra limp on out to the Trans Am, and he took the papers with all sorts of instructions on wound care from Dowdy. Cherri Cola was with the Fabulous Four from the moment he arrived at the hospital to the moment they got back to Dr. D’s radio station, where the Girl had been staying, and she came running into their arms. 

Later, when Ghoul would laugh and say “You’re a fucking hero, Cola. Like a knight in shining armor and all that”, he would smile and say “Not a hero. Just a poet.”

Maybe not a knight in shining armor, but Poison certainly thought he had been their hero in a beat-up green jacket.

[mychemicalficrecs]

!!!! could you rec some killjoys fics that actually include the girl? (so many dont :(((( ) just no waycest please n thank u

Sure!

The Killjoys and the Girl

measured out in miles by orphan_account, Gen, Fun Ghoul/Party Poison, 3k, Teen And Up Audiences. motorbaby learns how to drive.

Hugs Gimme Hugs by jedusaur, Gen, 2k, Teen And Up Audiences. Grace learns the lyrics to Queen's entire oeuvre when she's two, how to kill a drac when she's four and a half, and what a flush toilet is for when she's nine.

The Getaway Mile by strobelighted, Gen, 4k, Teen And Up Audiences. Fun Ghoul, Jet Star, and Grace have left the City Slums to live in the desert with Kobra Kid and Party Poison, but desert life doesn't sit so well with Fun Ghoul.

Family Always Comes Back For You by ChokolatteJedi, Gen, 1k, Teen And Up Audiences. As she plays with the ball, she remembers the first time that Poison taught her how to make a Molotov cocktail

Sparrow by Go0se, Gen, 7k, Teen And Up Audiences. They never meant ‘dust angel’ literally, but apparently whatever Powers That Maybe do not give a fuck for their literality or lack of it. Five times the littlest Killjoys' wings were noticed.

Missile Kid by Psyche, Gen, 12k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. 'It wasn’t that she wanted to die exactly, because she didn't, not really. It was just that every single time she woke up she would wish so fervently that she hadn't. When she closed her eyes she would dream that she was safe in bed in Battery City. Her parents were in the other room and Luna, alive and safe, would sneak in to play with her and tell her stories. Then, without fail, she would wake and be hit with a sucker-punch of despair; realising that it wasn’t real. That it would never be real again. ' The zones, 2017. How Grace came to be a zonerunner.

Life Lessons with Ghoul and Grace by casesandcapitals, Gen, 2k, General Audiences. Grace needs a favor from Ghoul.

Four Killjoys and a Baby by forgoo, Gen, Fun Ghoul/Party Poison, Cherry Cola/Kobra Kid, 19k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. "We are not keeping a baby!" "How hard can it be?" The story of how four teenage outlaws became the guardians of a tiny helpless baby and then raised that baby to be the tiniest Killjoy, messiah of the Zones.

Make A Wish When Your Childhood Dies by Tempxtempx, Gen, 4k, General Audiences. "Yeah, that's it," Dr. D said to The Girl, wiggling the finger that she'd latched onto with her tiny hand. "You're okay now. We've got you. You're going to be just fine." Five times the Phoenix Witch crossed paths with The Girl, interspersed with four scenes from The Girl's life in between.

The Girl, Signing Off by Fame_Is_Now_Injectable (DaisukiRose), Gen, 2k, Teen And Up Audiences. The year is 2079, and I can honestly say that the zones hold no more surprises. The draculoids move in a pattern, the motorbabies are all the same, and the radio station still pumps out the same slaughtermatic sounds that it did when I was growing up. Jet Star told me that Dr. Death Defying had ran the radio station for as long as he could remember, and when he returned to the Phoenix Witch, Show Pony and I ran it. That was after the Killjoys were exterminated by the dracs, naturally, and I had been on my own for a few years by then. Nineteen year old motorbabies don’t usually survive the zones alone, but I was never alone. I had Show Pony, I had the wind and the sand and the Joshua trees. You were never alone, if you really looked.

Like my mother's by queen_of_shanath, Gen, 784 words, General Audiences. The days in the desserts can be hard - especially when you have a hungry little girl by your side and you cannot cook.

Aftermath by kryptidkat, Gen, 7k, General Audiences. After the escape they holed up in the bunker for a week. Licking their wounds. Barely able to believe they made it out. When they’re finally forced back into the desert sunlight, none of them are the same. Will another rescue mission help the Four regain the spirit they lost? Or will it just reveal how shattered they've become? The aftermath of Sing.

Everybody's Just Full of Surprises by Oncemorewith_tension, Gen, 3k, General Audiences. For a request calling for Ghoul babysitting the Girl and despite popular predictions, doing quite well.

Yesterday, Today by Arowen12, Gen, 3k, General Audiences. It starts with a whisper. Whispers travel fast in the desert, there’s nothing to stop them, just the wide-open plains with scraggly bushes and they cut through it all like a dry wind, on radio waves, on word of mouth at little burnt out trading posts from zone 1 to 6 and beyond. And suddenly, if its true, everything is different. Motorbabies stare at the horizon each morning and imagine the hull of white creaking through the sand, the Crash Queens in their little strips of insanity mutter to each other over cigarettes but they watch the same horizon just as intently. What’s left of the Killjoys, the outlaws, the rebels, all begin to stir.

Blood and Water by costumejail, Gen, Killjoys & Motorbaby, Cherri Cola/Kobra Kid, 20k, Teen And Up Audiences, Mature. Sometimes, a family isn't a mom, a dad, and a couple of kids. Sometimes, a family is a couple of teenagers, a barely-23-year-old, their younger brother's boyfriend, and the baby that they stole from under the nose of a tyrannical megacorporation.

no rays from the holy heaven come down by Nightwing_Hunter, Gen, Killjoys & the Girl, 25k, Not Rated. You watch as the world burns away, again and again around you. You see the rise and fall of the Fabulous Killjoys. You see the soul of the desert change over time. You are the one that sets BLi ablaze; you are the bomb that turns it to dust. But every bomb starts as scraps—metal and batteries and chemicals set into a chain reaction. The metal is your childhood. The battery is the power you never realize you have. The chemicals are the truth that you spend years uncovering and learning. This is how you build a bomb.

Killjoys Never Die by viviqueen, 21k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. "What do you mean, 'they're not dead'?" "I mean that somehow... The original killjoys... They're alive." ~~~ A story that takes place after the events of the comics of The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys. The Girl (also the protagonist) gets caught in a chain of events that unravels a conspiracy. Almost all the named characters from the comics appear at some point, it focuses mainly on The Girl and her own internal battle with her guilt, while she fights for a better future and to protect those she loves that are still alive.

Keep the Chain Going by Flick (raynon), Gen, Jet Starr & Motorbaby, 2k, General Audiences. The Girl finds a rare commodity, and she gets Jet to tell her a story.

Superstar by That_One_Wierdo, Fun Ghoul/Party Poison, 8k [WIP], Not Rated. The Fabulous Four are a lovely little catastrophe. A bunch of teenagers with laser guns and a kid are bound to have some wild rides. Let's just hope that The Girl doesn't find out some of their antics.

Choke by Teethteethteethteethteethteethteeth, Gen, Fun Ghoul & Motorbaby, 1k, Teen And Up Audiences. Fun Ghoul and the Girl walk into a bar(n). And it’s on fire

burning down the batteries by KilltheDJ, Gen, 8k, Teen And Up Audiences. It's been twelve years since the Fabulous Killjoys died for the Girl. Twelve years since they fell from grace, and twelve years since family has been a word in the Girl's vocabulary. Tonight, though, she's not a little girl anymore, and she's more than what Better Living Thinks she is. She's a Fabulous Killjoy, and she's going to save the same Fabulous Killjoys that raised her

[dngrdyke]

Kid Valentine Part 1

"Drive, drive, drive!" Faggot shouted as he jumped onto the bike. Dyke revved the engine and sped away, spitting dust into the face of the Scarecrow behind them.

"Motherfuckers!" she screamed, pointing her gun behind her and steering with one hand. She glanced back and took three shots in quick succession.

"Shit! You got her, Dee!" Faggot whooped.

Dyke grinned and put her gun away. She leaned down and sped up across the plains. They'd been chased by that unit since leaving a pile of dead Dracs at an abandoned store at the edge of Bat City.

Dyke had wanted cigarettes.

And it wasn't even her fault they were in that mess, anyway! Faggot had decided to be loud as shit and use his bat to try break open the tobacco cabinet. All he did was make a huge clanging noise and summon all the Dracs in the area.

Good news: they got outta there alive and with Dyke's cigarettes.

Bad news: Blind sent a Scarecrow.

They only ever sent Scarecrows after the iconic rebels. The Killjoys themselves.

"Shit," she muttered.

"Whatcha say?"

"Shit!"

"What now?"

"Fuckin' Blind think we're Killjoys."

"Fuck!"

Dyke was not a Killjoy. Sure, she knew 'em. She was on pretty good terms with them, even. But damn it if she'd be lumped in with pretty-boy Poison and his dumbass crew. He didn't care about staying alive. He'd be more than happy to become a martyr, have the rest of the outlaws rally around his dead body and unite against the oppressive force that was Blind. And, don't get her wrong, Dyke sure wished she didn't have to run at the slightest sign of trouble. But that's what you had to do to stay alive. Those were the danger days. You played by your own rules, and if they said run, then you ran.

"What're we gonna do 'bout it? I don't like Scarecrows!"

"Shit, Fag, there's only one thing to do," Dyke said, pulling a hairpin turn in the other direction. "We gotta talk to the Killjoys."

"How's that gonna help?"

She took a cigarette out of the inside pocket on her denim jacket and stuck it in the side of her mouth.

"I dunno," she said out of the other side. "I guess we're gonna have to figure that out."

They rode for hours across the desert, passing barely anyone, save for the radiation addicts strewn out on the ground.

"Where are we going?" Faggot asked after a while. His voice cracked which snapped Dyke out of her thoughts.

"Shit, you're parched." She slowed to a stop and killed the engine. "Picnic break, kid."

Faggot hopped off the bike and Dyke kicked down the stand.

She drew another cigarette and lit it, taking a drag before speaking again.

"You, my friend, need a goddamn soda."

He scrunched up his nose but said nothing. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

Dyke popped open the back part of the bike seat. In it was four cans of soda, some Twinkies and a can of dog food. For extreme emergencies only.

She tossed Faggot a Twinkie and a soda.

"Eat up, kid. If we're gonna make it to the Meetup before sundown we gotta keep going."

"What is the Meetup?" Faggot asked and shoved the Twinkie in his mouth.

Dyke sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"Me and Poison- years ago, now- promised each other that if ever anything happened, we would go to this one place. In that place is a stash of fireworks. Either of us see the fireworks, we haul ass to the Meetup, and fuck the consequences."

"So, you're sayin'," he said, taking a glug of soda, "that this Scarecrow is enough to get you to talk to Poison again?"

She took a drag and kicked the ground, watching as the dust swirled around her shoe and made their neon pink even more faded and dirty.

She blew the smoke up and out through her hair. Fuckin' Poison stealing her hair.

"Yeah."

"Is it enough to get you to apologise to Kobra and Ghoul for beating them up?"

Dyke glared at him. "They painted my bike. Nobody touches my baby but me."

"I ride your bike."

"Yeah, but that's different. You're with me when you're riding. And you don't spray paint it bright pink."

Faggot chugged his soda and crushed the can by swinging his bat over his head and bringing it down on it. He threw it to Dyke, who caught it and put it in the compartment under the seat. She finished her cigarette and stubbed it out under her foot as Faggot stood up.

"How much longer?" he asked.

"As long as it takes. You wanna take out the radio and listen to Doctor D while we drive?"

His face lit up. Dyke never listened to the radio while she drove, unless she was in a really good mood or really nervous. And she wasn't the most talkative of people, either, which meant a lot of long silences with nothing but the bike to listen to. Faggot found himself falling asleep once or twice and had to jerk awake before he fell off. But that was only on super-long journeys.

"You mean it?"

"Sure do, kid. We can get some more supplies when we find the Killjoys, too, so neither of us'll have to eat the dog food."

He grinned and grabbed the radio before hopping back on the bike. Dyke smiled to herself. He was a good kid.

They rode again until the sun began to set and Dyke asked Faggot to turn down the radio.

"I gotta concentrate. Gotta remember where this place is."

Eventually she stopped the bike and, with a satisfied "ha!", she grabbed a bush by the roots and pulled.

It came out of the ground easily to reveal a padlocked metal box inside a plastic bag. The box itself had an X on it and a tiny spider insignia in its corner.

"Thank Destroya it's still here," Dyke said and blew a kiss to the sky. She reached into her top and drew out a key on a string.

"Have you had that the whole time?"

"Yep."

"How in the hell have I never noticed it?"

"I keep my secrets secret."

She picked up the box and took it out of the bag. Sliding the key into the lock and turning, it popped opened with a small click. Dyke stuffed the key back down her collar and flipped the lid open.

The box was packed with fireworks and flares of all colours and sizes.

"Each one means something different. That one there," she said, pointing at a red flare with a skull drawn on it, "means that the other got ghosted and the location of the box has been passed on to the person we trust the most. For me, it's you. For Poison... I dunno. Maybe Kobra. He's like a brother to him. It doesn't matter, anyways, 'cause I ain't dead yet. There used to be two of 'em, but after Carla..." She trailed off. She'd had to light the flare.

She pushed some fireworks gently out of the way.

"This one," Dyke continued, pointing at a blue rocket, "means we're in deep shit."

"So let's set it up, then."

She nodded and took it out before closing and padlocking the box. She put it back in the bag and into its hole before placing the bush back over it and patting down the surrounding dirt.

"Watch carefully, kid. When I get ghosted, you're gonna have to do this."

She stabbed the stick of the rocket into the ground a few times to make a small hole, and wiggled it around to make sure it was secure. She nodded to herself and took out her lighter.

"Faggot, you're gonna wanna get back. Real far."

Slowly and carefully with all the precision of an open heart surgeon, Dyke crouched down by the fuse and flicked the lighter. It caught immediately and she stood up and ran.

"Faggot! What are you doing? GO!" she screamed.

He seemed to catch on then and followed her, feet pounding on the hard ground.

A screaming sound filled the night and a spray of white and blue sparks preceded a loud clap.

"That'll give the desert something to talk about. C'mon. Let's get to the Meetup."

"You mean this isn't it?"

"Nah, it's a few minutes ride towards the moon."

"Oddly specific," Faggot said with a furrowed eyebrow.

"That was a joke, kid," Dyke laughed. "We go ten minutes east 'til we get to the abandoned Analogue trench."

"This is why I make the jokes," he grumbled. "That wasn't even funny."

"Lighten up, kid. We've a price on our head!" She started walking back to the bike before stopping and looking back at him.

"Race ya!"

[strangewerewolf]

Fluffy Fun Ghoul x Party Poison oneshot fic!

i wrote this a month or two ago, was just waiting for my friend to read it before posting it 

It was a cold night in the Zones. Poison was trying to sleep, but he couldn’t get a blink. He was worried about the girl he and the other Killjoys raised. She’d been taken hostage by BL/ind, and the Fabulous Four were going to rescue her tomorrow. He felt nervous about the rescue mission, wich was risky. He and his friends might get injured, or worse, he could lose his brother and his closest friends.

 A few minutes later, Poison quit trying to sleep. He got out of the body bag he was using as a sleeping bag and walked towards the trans am. Fun Ghoul was already sitting there, on the hood of the car,probably not able to sleep either. Poison climbed onto the car hood and sat right next to Ghoul.

“You’re worried about the rescue mission, aren’t you?”Ghoul asked. 

“What if we all die there,what if they already killed the kid? It’s all going to be for nothing and we might get killed too.” Poison replied, “I don’t want to lose anyone. Kobra’s my baby brother, and you and Jet are my closest friends.”

“I’m worried too,but now you should try to get some rest” Ghoul told Poison.

“I can’t. I tried but there’s too much on my mind”

“Look, I’m scared too, but freaking out over it won’t help”

“You’re right.... but I’m still worried” 

“Maybe we could stay here for a bit and try not to think about it for a while.” Fun Ghoul suggested

“Sure.” Poison replied, as he laid down on the car hood.

Ghoul laid down next to him,and they looked at the starry sky for a while. It was beautiful, but not as beautiful as the boy lying next to him.

“Poise, you awake?” Ghoul asked.

“Yeah. You doin’ alright?”

“I’m fine,just a bit cold”

Poison inched closer to Ghoul and put his arm around him.

“That’s a bit better” Ghoul said, resting his head on Poison’s chest.

Poison blushed. He found Ghoul really adorable and he was so happy to be there with him .He’s so cute,he thought, i love him,so much, as more than a friend... I need to tell him....but what if it ruins our friendship. I want him to be mine, he thought. He needed to tell him, no matter what. Poison sat up and took a deep breath “Ghoul,” he said, “there’s something I need to tell you.....” “Go ahead.” “I think I’m in love with you...well, I don’t think I am. I’m sure of it,”Poison admitted.

“I’m sorry if I ruined our friendship.... I thought it would be better if you knew... I didn’t want to keep any secrets from you, and since we might die tomorrow....well, I thought I should tell you.”

“It won’t ruin our friendship. I promise.”

“But what if-“

Ghoul sat up and cupped Poison’s face with his hands and leaned in as he gazed into his brown eyes. “I’m in love with you too, Poise.” he said before kissing the redhead. It was a short, soft and romantic kiss. Both Killjoys were blushing as they pulled away,their faces as red as Poison’s hair.

“I- I love you, Ghoul.” Poison said.

“You too, babe.”

Hearing those words from Ghoul made him have butterflies in his stomach~ well, more than he already had. Poison wrapped his arms around Ghoul. They shared another kiss, a bit longer and more passionate than the first one. Poison moaned softly as Ghoul ran his fingers through Poison’s hair. They pulled away for air after a bit.

“I was thinking, maybe we should stay here and snuggle a bit until we fall asleep” Poison suggested.

“Sounds fun.” Ghoul replied, as he wrapped his arms around Poison and buried his face in his shirt.

He was so happy with Poison and wished he could stay in this moment forever. They snuggled for about half an hour before falling asleep in each other’s arms, not knowing what was going to happen to them the next day.

the end. hope u enjoyed  

[createuntiltheendoftime]

Okay so this is that fic/one shot i wrote all night. here i guess. its inspired by @discocritic’s post and also gokarting yesterday godammit don’t judge me

im so sorry, this is terribly formatted and there are so many poorly written sentences, its basically word vomit. I'm so disappointed but so not surprised.

“Party, the race is gonna start and we don’t have much time!”

Of course. Of the seven word quota Kobra spoke per day, it had to be complaining that Party was taking too long.

 “Phoenix Witch, Kobes, cool your jets.” Secretly, Party wished his brother would stop racing. He loved the fact that Kobra found something he loved, but it was so damn dangerous, and their lives were already filled with enough of that.

But Party walked out the door with him again and again.

And again today, to Kobra’s insistent hand waving and gesturing to the Trans Am. “Any longer and I woulda left without you, asshole. Ghoul’s already at the Track, Jet’s... somewhere. He’s with the Kid.”

Even more words. Weird day.

Luckily, the two of them weren’t all that far from the Crash Track, only an hour or so, and they got there and hour before the race started.

“You’re paranoid, Kobes. You have all the time in the world.” Party grinned as he stepped out of the car

Kobra pulled off his helmet and glanced down. “Phoenix Witch, Party, I wanted to hang out with Sand.” Kobra said grudgingly.

“Ya shoulda said so.” Party winked. “You know where I’ll be.”

Kobra grunted and turned away. He took his bike down to the track, into his stall he claimed for himself, when he first became a Motorbaby. Surprisingly, you didn’t have to worry much about sabotage, unless some really nasty asshole was racing that day, which Kobra had checked the roster, and that was a hard no.

“Bettin’ on ya!” a ‘Joy called out, and Kobra half waved in response.

Betting wasn’t really betting. You bet the amount of carbons you wanted. Half went between the people around you, like normal betting, half went to the racers, which was how they made their carbons. On one hand it was great, the better you got, the more people were willing to bet on you. The downside was a single bad race, a single crash could throw you back to the bottom, and you had to pay back a quarter of what everyone bet on you. When you’re good, a quarter is a lot of carbons.

“Kobra!” Sand waved him over to where a group of racers were standing in a circle, holding coveted cans of Monster, and chatting about the race to come.

“Hi Sand.” Kobra said quietly.

“Damn. I have got a feeling in my bones, this race is going to be a good race.” Sandman grinned, and leaned against the wall.

Kobra nodded, even though he was only half feeling it. He was excited to race, of course, but Party never had the greatest attitude toward his racing. Maybe he was right. Wouldn’t stop Kobra.

“Hey y’all Motorbabies, we got five minutes til race time so get your asses on the track and get ready to eat shit!” Some Race Runner was yelling up and down the lounges.

Kobra smiled wanly, and walked back to his stall, checking his bike for problems. Trust, but verify.

Slowly, he made his way to the starting line, and pulled on his helmet.

The hum of his bike settled him, and the anxiety he felt about the race turned into excited apprehension.

“Three!” Kobra tightened his grip on his handles. “Two!” He licked his lips and tensed. This was so familiar. He knew this. Understood it. Lived it. “One!” Kobra shot forward, throwing himself to the inside and causing four or five racers to skid and swerve. It was a dangerous move, and Kobra was oh-so good at it. It made him giddy, the feeling of racing against other people. He loved racing, even against Sandman. And he loved racing with Sandman.

Speaking of the Motorbaby, Sand pulled up just behind him, having just cut off another racer, who had barely recovered from her skidding swerve enough to stay upright.

Kobra grinned, and poured on speed, pulling ahead of Sand and the others. This race was almost ten miles long, and would take almost five minutes. Kobra glanced around in a half-second, relishing the blurred gold and brown of the Crash Track.

There was a roaring behind him, a massive jolt threw him off balance, and he was flying.

Everything happened slowly, and he heard Sand yell “are you fucking suicidal!?” And when he noticed what was happening, his scream of Kobra’s name, carried away by the wind. Then he hit the ground, and his bike landed on one of his legs, and searing pain burned into his whole body. After a moment, Kobra tried and failed at pushing the bike off him, only succeeding in moving it further down his leg as he tried to stand. He dropped back into the sand, and the last thing he remembered was that thought he had, right before the race. What if Party’s right?

Party watched as the first bike crossed the finish line. First Sandman, to a round of enthusiastic cheers and shouts. The someone he recognized, but didn’t know the name of.

Ghoul voiced his thoughts. “Where’s Kobra?”

“Maybe something happened with his bike and he’s coming soon.” Party said, his voice shaking. But the race ended, and there was still no Kobra. Sandman sprinted up to Party, face worried.

“No.” Party said. “No no no.”

Sand looked at him with an apologetic expression. “It’s Kobra. Some dumb fuck tried to get past him an’ me an’ flipped him off the track. I woulda stopped but if I tried Ida ended up right next to him.”

Party’s breath caught in his throat and Ghoul saw him pale.

“Where?” Party’s voice cracked.

“Roundabouts mile three.”

“Whose the asshole?” Ghoul asked, but Party was already gone. Party shoved past the race runners, who tried to stop him from running onto the track, and he punched one out before the other backed off.

The breath in his chest was burning by mile two, and the third mile passed far too slowly for his liking.

Finally he saw a mangled bike, and someone lying underneath it. Party sprinted the last twenty feet, and made sure Kobra wasn’t caught in the bike before shoving it away. “Hey,” he said softly, choking on a salty lump in his throat. Three people came up to him, slowly, as if worried by what he’d do.

“As soon as Sandman reported what happened we got down here and tried to help him. We left him there cause we didn’t wanna hurt him further.”

Party heard them, but didn’t acknowledge their existence. “C’mon, Kobra.” He muttered. Party didn’t shake him, scared it would hurt him. “C’mon, Kobes, I told you this was a bad idea!” Party shouted. That wasn’t true, Party had never told him that about something he loved so much. “I told you, and now look at us! Kobra, wake up! Wake up, goddammit!” He was practically screaming now, his voice hoarse, and the people around him unsure of what to do. Party looked up angrily. “Radio!” he snapped.

Someone put a radio in his hand, and he tuned into Ghoul’s frequency, one of the only people he knew that carried a personal radio, something he and the Missile had been working on.

“What do you want.” Ghoul’s voice answered.

“I-I need Jet down here. Right now. Keep Missile with Sand or someone up there, she shouldn’t see—“ Party broke off.

“You got it, Crash Queen.”

“We have medics.”

“Then get them down here!” Party snapped. Kobra looked like he shouldn’t have survived the crash, with his arms twisted at horrifying angles, one of his wrists swollen black and blue. One of his jeans legs was burned away from the heat of his motorcycle, and the skin was red and shiny from the burn. It looked like his bike cut him across the chest, and there was blood blooming on his shirt. “Please wake up, Kobra. Please, please.” After a moment, Party shook his head. “This is taking to long.” Party moved to pick up Kobra, ready to take him back to the starting line.

“You shouldn’t do that, you could hurt him further!” Someone protested, but Party shrugged them off.

“If I don’t, he’ll die from heat stroke, so shut up.”

Kobra was heavy, and about an inch taller than Party, so carrying him was a bit awkward. “C’mon Kobra, just a little further.” Kobra’s blood smeared on Party’s jacket, contrasting violently with the blue leather. Party heard him take a shuddering breath, the deepest one so far, and he relaxed, just slightly.

It took him and hour to get back, with Kobra’s added weight, and the three Race Runners following him up the track, offering to take his weight for a bit. Party snapped a no at them each time.

“Kobra!” Party heard Sandman yell across the lounges. Ghoul ran up with him, with noticeably bloody knuckles. “Please tell me he’s alright.” Sand said.

“Where’s Jet.” Party said shortly.

Ghoul jerked his head behind him, and Jet ran up. “Missile’s hanging with a couple other kids who came to watch the race... Ghoul, you didn’t tell me it was Kobra.” Jet’s voice shook. “Put him down.” After a second, he continued. “He broke his wrist, and a couple ribs, and his leg’s burned real bad. When he wakes up he’s gonna have a nasty concussion, and’ll be out of it for a while, but he’ll survive, thank the Witch.”

Kobra groaned and slowly blinked his eyes open, glassily staring at the four ‘Joys crowded around him.

“Wha’ ha’end?” Kobra slurred quietly. Party turned away as Sand started explaining.

Party’s torn mind churned over a paradox. On one hand, if this happened again, and Party wasn’t there, what would happen to Kobra? On the other, Party wasn’t sure he wanted to know until it was over, one way or another.

One thing he knew for sure was he never wanted to be at this track again.

[collapser-collateral]

The killjoys were terrorists. Mikey knows this well, having previously been one himself. He destroyed and fought and killed, just like terrorists do. Fighting a company that only had his, and everybody else’s, best interests at heart. But how does he tell that to Gerard, who believes he is one of them? Mikey knows he wasn’t. Not anymore, not since…

Mikey shakes his head. He can’t remember the accident.

Gerard’s paralysis had finally worn off and the two of them were sitting in the chairs that BLi allowed in his re-education room. Temporary. They didn’t intend on putting him fully through the re-education process again. They had plans for Gerard and they trusted that Mikey could bring him back. But he was broken after everything. After what the killjoys did. He doesn’t remember what happened, but he certainly remembers what BLi explained to him after everything. 

“Gerard,” Mikey says calmly, “You’ve called me Kobra, but do you remember me as Mikey?”

Gerard, he’d been going by Alien when he’d been alone in the zones. Alone with no memories, they had said. Mikey hated to imagine it. Gerard deserved to at least have something to comfort him when he was alone in such an awful place. Mikey wishes he could’ve been with him, that maybe he could’ve brought him back. When BLi offered him a position as an Exterminator, he took it, not only because he knew he had to make up for his troubled past, but because he needed to find Gerard. To save him from himself, even if there wasn’t much of what Mikey remembered left. He wasn’t going to just leave him out there. 

Mikey doesn’t get a response from him at first, Gerard staring out at something, seemingly behind him. There wasn’t anything there. The room was empty. He furrowed his eyebrows in concern.

“Gerard?” He asks patiently.

Gerard seemingly startles out of whatever he had been focused on, his eyes coming to rest on Mikey, “I-I don’t-I don’t know.”

He still seems so skittish and afraid and Mikey just has to hope that they won’t need to do another round of re-education. His mind is already distressed and convoluted as is, after that there may be nothing left of Gerard at all. Mikey thanks re-ed for saving him, but he knows it took a lot out of him, especially sorting through his trauma he faced because of being a killjoy. He knows it would help Gerard, but there’s that selfish part of him, that doesn’t want to lose Gerard. The Gerard he knows. 

Mikey grabs Gerard’s hand, and he’s surprised when he doesn’t flinch away. He clenches it reassuringly, “That’s okay. We’ll find it together, okay?”

Mikey remembers when Gerard took care of him after their parents were arrested for crimes against Better Living. He was always there for Mikey. It was Mikey’s turn to be there for him. And that meant making sure that nothing else could hurt Gerard anymore. Not while he needed to recover.

BLi has plans for Gerard. They think he’ll be a great role model to others once he’s recovered. 

Mikey believes in Gerard, he knows that he’s in there somewhere, waiting to be brought back. 

Gerard looks at him cautiously, like a startled animal, “You can- help me get them back?” 

“Yes, Gerard,” Mikey says, still holding his hand, “BLi can help you,” 

Gerard still looks unsure, lowering his gaze to the floor, “Where’s Ghost?” 

Mikey doesn’t know how to answer. He comes back everyday, and talks to Gerard. He tells him about what he remembers and what BLi’s told him. He doesn’t talk about when they were killjoys. He doesn’t want Gerard to remember that time. He doesn’t want him to have to live with the guilt that comes with that. He’s not allowed to talk about it either, so he’s glad he doesn’t have to bring it up. But still, Gerard always asks:

“Where’s Ghost?”

Gerard tends to shrink up when Mikey mentions BLi, and Mikey curses the killjoys for putting that fear into his brother. Everything would’ve been okay if it weren’t for them. Gerard and Mikey could get on with their lives if there were no killjoys. Instead, Mikey has to take on the role of Exterminator. Not only to protect BLi, but to protect his brother too. The killjoys have done enough damage. Mikey, himself, has done enough damage. It was time for him to right his wrongs. 

But sometimes when he looked at Gerard, he got reminded of bright fiery red hair and other people he can’t quite grasp. He knows who they are. Jet Star and Fun Ghoul. But not because he remembers them. He knows because BLi told him about them. How they manipulated him and his brother. But there was something familiar about them that he couldn’t place. A sense of safety, strangely enough. But Mikey didn’t question it further. 

To do so, would be illegal. 

About a week in, Gerard really begins to open up. And Mikey is relieved, that maybe, just maybe, Gerard really is still there. 

“Where’s Ghost?” Gerard asks first thing, that day. 

Mikey doesn’t answer as he walks in, “Hey, Gerard. Sorry about being late today. I had work that took a bit longer than expected,” 

Gerard has a forlorn look on his face when Mikey, yet again doesn’t answer him. 

“How are you doing today?” Mikey asks, sitting in his usual chair. 

Gerard sits cross-legged on the bed, glancing at something he must see that isn’t real.

Gerard doesn’t answer him at first, “Fine- I-,” 

He doesn’t continue, but it’s better than his responses from before. Usually asking if he could leave. Mikey always has to explain that he will, once he’s recovered enough. 

“That’s good,” he says calmly, “You might be able to leave soon, once you’re feeling better,”

“I-I am- feeling a lot better than before,” Gerard says. 

Mikey smiles slightly. 

“Who was I?” Gerard asks, “Before-,”

“Before the accident?” Mikey asks softly.

Gerard nods. 

“You were a good person. A good citizen. You took care of me when we were kids. We were really close.” Mikey wants to go on, but he’s not sure what to say. 

Gerard looks at him curiously, “You’re Mikey,”

Something stirs inside Mikey, “And you’re Gerard,”

“No,” he says as if he’s had some kind of revelation, “You’re Mikey. The one- my little brother,” he says quietly. 

Mikey is elated, though it doesn’t show, “Yeah- Yeah, that’s me,”

Before he can become too happy, though, he’s called away for Exterminator business. But things make progress after that. 

It’s around two months later and once again Mikey had been called into action. BLi’s plan was finally coming to fruition.

Mikey had been following James’ tracker since they had entered the city. He had tried to find them when they initially crossed the wall, but there wasn’t a breach at any of the exits, so that meant one thing. They were underground. BLi had been suspecting for awhile that there were underground tunnels that the killjoys and juvie halls used to traverse the city out the eye of BL/ind. But until now, they hadn’t confirmed it. But thanks to James, a lot of things were possible now. 

[zonebunny]

Hello, Old Girl

AKA the moment when Party Poison finds the Trans AM 

Puffing his freshly-dyed hair out of his eyes, Party Poison’s features are punctured by a wince as he hauls himself out of the deep pit he’d been exploring for the last twenty minutes or so; letting out a heavy sigh of defeat.

“Nope, just junk over here! Any luck over at your end, Kiddo?”

“Just a load of ol’ papers!”

The Fab Four were currently standing in the middle of the scrapyard that spread out from Zone 1 and way out beyond as far as the eye could see; almost touching the border of Zone 2. This huge junkyard was where everything Better Living Industries couldn’t stand the sight of usually ended up - hence why the Killjoys were stood in the middle of it. For scavengers like themselves, this was practically a goldmine on some good days; but on others like today, their luck ran out and their hopeful searches came up empty.

It also didn’t help that today was one of the hottest days of the summer, and when you were out in the middle of the desert that certainly wasn’t a very comfortable experience to be out in, let alone working. The Killjoys had only been out scavenging for about an hour or so and they were already badly sunburnt, filthy and starving hungry, each carrying a pitifully-empty sack each.

“Ugh, this is fuckin’ pointless! All I’ve found is a few shitty pieces of scrapmetal, and they’ll only get a couple of carbons each if we’re lucky!” 

A whine to Poison’s left made him squint up at the shorter figure hunched over one of the more towering junkpiles, the scarlet-haired leader raising his hand up to shield his eyes as he focuses on Fun Ghoul, who was waving his bag in the air to emphasise his statement; the contents clinking against each other dully.

“Whatcha find? Droid parts?”

“Yeah; got a few batteries and what looks like part of a hand - actually, might be a foot…” As Ghoul speaks, he looks into the depths of his bag and tilts his head at an odd angle to examine his finds, frowning in distaste. “What a shit haul.”

“Hey, don’t give up hope yet. At least you didn’t get oil in your hair…” Another voice pipes up as the figure of Jet Star appears from behind what looked like the remains of an old refrigerator, the wild-haired Killjoy tugging at his ‘fro to prove that his hair was in fact matted with old oil, his face screwed-up in disgust.

“Yikes. That’ll suck trying to get that out of your hair…”

Kobra Kid finally rejoins the group, and like Ghoul he was holding a rather empty sack in his right hand. Jet’s sat on top of the fridge, containing a burnt-out toaster that he figured he might be able to salvage some parts from and a few stray half-empty battery packs. Poison had been the most successful so far, with a handful of old records he’d found at the bottom of an old box of Murder magazines and a couple of BLI-issued blasters that he reckoned he’d be able to polish up and paint for commissions.

“The sun’s gonna start getting low soon. Wanna call it a day or keep on at it?” Kid suggests, looking to his brother for answers - as leader, it was his call. As Poison dusts his hands off on his already-filthy jeans, he glances between his friends; noticing how weary and exhausted they all looked. It had been a tough day for them all.

“We’ll finish up here for the day, then check out that ghost-town nearby that Doc told us about the other day. Pony reckons that it’s been untouched, and I sure want first-dibs on anything decent we can find.” Poison states, the other three nodding eagerly in agreement - they were keen to finish up and head home as soon as possible.

After another hour of thorough scavenging, the Killjoys finally admit defeat as they haul their sacks of scrapmetal and other trading goods back to Show Pony’s van, ready to hit the road again and explore this desert-town. Once their finds had been stashed safely in the back of the van, the Fab Four pile on into it and settle down for the journey; Jet Star climbing behind the wheel with Kid sitting up in front beside him.

With a low groan, Poison slides himself down the side of the van and spreads his legs out in front of him; looking like a broken toy puppet. Ghoul mimics his pose across from him, tucking his knees up to his chest and resting his back against the cold metal of the van’s door, rubbing the back of his aching neck and wincing.

“Fuck, I got burnt bad…”

“I got some aloe vera in my bag!” Jet calls over his shoulder, waving to Kid to go get it. Kobra does so instantly, ducking down and pulling the brown satchel up into his lap and proceeding to fumble around in it until he found what he was looking for; the cutting of aloe vera that Jet carried on him practically at all times. Kid holds out the green stalk to Ghoul, who accepts it eagerly and squeezes the end of it to make it ooze sap.

“Oh, thank Destroya.” Ghoul sighs out happily in relief as he rubs the end of the plant along the back of his neck, his expression one of pure bliss. The look on his face was almost erotic, which causes Poison to go pink and quickly look down - he could easily picture that same look on Ghoul’s face when he was doing something else…

“You alright, Poise? You’ve been pretty quiet today…” Kobra then pipes up, turning around in his seat and folding his arms over the back of it so he could see and talk to his big brother. Poison couldn’t help a small smile appear on his face at the sight of Kid - the sun looked good on him, his features flushed and tan beneath the smears of dirt and oil on his baby brother’s face. Kid’s shades were now balanced on his bright blonde hair, which was all messed-up over his forehead from working all day.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just wish we could’ve gotten a better haul than we did…” Poison shrugs, letting out a low sigh through his nose. There had been days when they’d found so much good stuff that they’d had a struggle getting it all to fit in the van to take home; it made the huddle of sacks in the corner now look even more pitiful in comparison.

“It’s alright, man; it’s like you said - good days and bad days…” Ghoul pipes up, smiling reassuringly and holding out the cutting of aloe vera to Poison; he’d burned his hand on the top of the bumper of a wrecked-up car earlier on. With little smile of gratitude, Poison accepts the cutting and smears the cooling gel-like sap over the shiny red burn running along his thumb and down towards the middle of his palm, wincing as it starts to tingle.

“Hey, we might get lucky at this place! Ponyboy sounded excited.” Jet comments, his eyes still fixed on the road ahead. Ghoul laughs at this, rolling his eyes.

“Pony gets excited over everything, Starman. It’s part of what makes them so...well, Pony.”

“Got that right.” Kid agrees, smiling fondly at the thought of their fabulous sparkly friend back at the Diner, who was currently looking after the Girl while the Fab Four were out scavenging. They made the best babysitter.

“Let’s just hope they’re right…” Poison murmurs, a hopeful look in his eyes as he turns his gaze out the back windows of the van as he watches the Zones zip past behind them; dust billowing into the air in their wake.

                                                  ==============

As Jet pulls the van up to the rotting gates of the town, the Killjoys peer through the window at their surroundings in both curiosity and caution - the place sure was abandoned alright, which gave it that creepy haunted vibe that made them feel like they were being watched, though the only life around aside from them were a few scraggly stray desert cats that prowled about and watched them exit the van with wide lamp-like eyes, before scurrying away back into the shadows.

“Stick close - any sign of trouble, shout.” Poison murmurs to the others once they bundle out of the van, his hand resting over his holster where the handle of his yellow blaster stuck out. The others nod curtly before they disband, heading in different directions in order to spread out and cover more ground quickly.

As Ghoul makes his way towards what appeared to be the old town hall and Kid towards the nearest run-down store, Jet remains on the main street while Poison ventures off towards a row of old houses - by the looks of things, the people who once lived here simply dropped everything and disappeared. There were a number of old rusted cars littered about the street, so as Jet started exploring them Poison makes his way towards a house with a front porch and cracked windows; the front door hanging off his hinges.

Something had been here, definitely; but it was impossible to tell if it had been fellow Killjoys or desert-dwellers or Draculoids. As Poison carefully steps onto the first creaky step of the patio, his hand comes to rest firmly over the handle of his blaster as he peers into the depths of the house through the broken windows - or what remained of them, anyway.

Tattered curtains drifted ghost-like in the hot desert wind as Poison slowly steps past the threshold, sand crunching under his feet. The winds had blown sand and desert debris right into the interior of the house, the carpets now looking more like a beach than flooring. However, Poison spies a few cupboards that looked pretty promising and so quickly gets to work; pulling them open and rummaging inside.

Pony had been partially right; he doubted that Killjoys had been here, as there was plenty of supplies and items that they wouldn’t have just left behind. However, he had a suspicion that perhaps some Waveheads might have used this place as a pit-stop at some point once. It made sense; the town was a perfect suntrap, and the way there had been furniture littered about the street gave Poison the idea that a group might have stopped by here while in the search for a hit - those junkies would follow the sun even when it set if they could.

That would explain why so many abandoned belongings still remained here; Waveheads didn’t care for material items.

The chest of drawers Poison was now looking through was proving to be already much more successful than the scavenging site - he was finding jewellry, old photos, papers, books. Anything of trade value or personal interest he slipped into the open sack at his feet, pleased to see it gradually swelling in size; especially when he comes across a whole rack of jackets and shoes, some of which would clean up rather nicely with some TLC.

As Poison passes through to the kitchen, he follows his reflection on every mirrored surface - he felt like such an intruder into this home, despite the fact it certainly hadn’t been a home in a very long time. His gaze then lingers on a countertop that was littered with picture-frames, depicting the same family - a mother, father, and two sons.

Poison felt a hard lump suddenly form in his throat as he slowly extends his hand towards the frame taking centreplace, which was the largest photo of the lot - a cracked and faded portrait of the two sons, two brothers. The oldest was blonde, the youngest was brunette; they both looked to be no older than between ten and twelve years old.

Poison then wondered what had happened to them; what had caused this family to suddenly leave their entire lives behind, to run away. He couldn’t understand why he was feeling so odd about this - he didn’t know these people, they were strangers. He figured he was feeling so strange because it was most likely that they were dead now, and this was all that remained of them - the only proof that they ever existed…

Quickly shaking it off, Poison sets the photo down again and looks away; no, don’t think about it too much. You’re here for a reason.

With a low sigh, Poison rearranges the sack he was carrying over his shoulder and slips into the kitchen, setting the sack down again at his feet with a low grunt before starting to rummage through the cupboards. To his dismay, they were mostly empty, but he did manage to find some pots and pans and utensils that would still come in handy, so into the sack they went. Just as he loops a frying-pan to the outside of the bag, Poison’s eyes then linger on an object lying in a decorative bowl on the kitchen table; his eyes widening in realisation.

Keys. Car keys.

And where there’s car keys, there may be a working car…

Excitement bubbling up inside him, Poison picks up the keys and gazes down at them sitting in the palm of his hand for a second; his thumb brushing against the grooves of the main key. Could he really get so lucky…?

Picking up his bag as quickly as he could, Poison’s eyes dart around the room and he spies a backdoor at the end of the hallway; that sure looked promising. Figuring that he couldn’t really carry much else and that he could always return to this place to explore further if needed, Poison pads silently down the hallway and nudges open the backdoor with his shoulder, which to his delight led straight out to what he could see what appeared to be a garage.

Oh please, please, please…

Almost stumbling over his boots in eagerness, Poison sets his sack down at his feet again as his eyes scan over the garage door, looking for a way to open it. At the bottom he sees a padlock, and at first he curses; thinking he’d reached a dead-end. But then he remembers the keys and quickly pulls them back out of his pocket, and with a jolt of excitement he sees that it does have a smaller key that looks like it could work out with this padlock rather nicely…

Taking a deep breath, Poison kneels down and carefully starts to fumble with the padlock; feeling shock vibrate through his bones when the key actually fits. He then takes a step back logically, calming himself down - he shouldn’t get his hopes up, after all. There was a very slim chance that there could be anything behind this metal door…

Not wasting a second longer - and unable to wait - Party Poison unlocks the padlock and takes hold of the door, sliding it upwards. Poison immediately wafts away the dust that had clouded up into the air as he does so, coughing quietly, and as sunlight filters into the interior of the garage for the first time in years, Poison takes a careful step forward and squints inside - and when he sees the sight that met him he stumbles back a step in shock; his eyes as wide as saucers.

Under a grey tarpaulin lay a large object that dominated the majority of the room; a big, car-shaped object.

Trembling in awe and excitement, Poison manages to unfreeze as he slowly steps inside; wandering around the back of the object in an almost trance-like state. This thing was huge, and by the shape under the protective tarpaulin, it certainly wasn’t anything like the lumps of scrapmetal rusting outside on the main street.

Poison then reaches forward, grabs hold of a handful of the plastic, and pulls.

As the protective layer rustles loudly as it starts to slide off the vehicle, when Poison sees the words revealed on the back he freezes up again as if he’d been stunned by a Draculoid, stumbling back a step in shock; TRANS AM.

No. Fucking. Way.

And the next thing Party Poison knew, he was standing in front of a 1979 Pontiac Firebird Trans AM. In perfect condition. Not a scratch on it’s pristine white surface.

“Holy shit…” Poison’s hushed voice seemed so loud as it echoes off the walls of the garage, extending a trembling hand to touch the bodywork of the magnificent vehicle before him; to check if it was really real. Feeling the cool metal beneath his palm, a wide slightly-crazed grin spreads over Poison’s features as his hand flies to his belt; scrambling for his communicator.

“Guys! Guys, you’ll never guess what I’ve fucking found - I’m around the back of the blue house off of Main, come and get me!” Poison hisses excitedly into the speaker, hearing the crackle of static follow for a second before a familiar voice replies through the airwaves - Ghoul.

“Oh c’mon Poise, I’m almost on the other side of town! Just spill!”

“No, you have to come see! Over and out.” Poison abruptly clicks off the channel as he clips the communicator back onto his belt; his eyes drinking in the entirety of the Trans AM eagerly, as if he were afraid it would vanish into thin air.

Poison hadn’t believed in love at first sight; not until now.

Dust crunches under Poison’s feet as he eases his way around the side of the Trans AM, not taking his eyes off of its sleek surface as he manoeuvres his way towards the driver’s seat, wanting to inspect his discovery closer. He couldn’t believe his luck; he had no idea how this family could have owned such a vehicle, let alone just left it here to rot. It was unlike any car he’d ever seen - and although Poison had to admit, he wasn’t exactly a pro on cars, he’d definitely heard of a Trans AM before - it was as almost as iconic as the DeLorean. It looked pretty similar, too, as the overall shape definitely reminded him of it.

Shielding his eyes from the setting sun, Poison leans in and peers inside through the window; praying that he wasn’t going to discover the remains of the family inside. Thankfully, he didn’t; the car was totally vacant, not so much as a child’s car-seat or a pair of fluffy-dice hanging from the wing-mirror in sight.

Poison came to the conclusion that this definitely hadn’t been the family car; it was much too pristine, unless this family had been a serious bunch of neat-freaks. He figured that this must’ve been the dad’s pride and joy, which he’d chosen to keep out of the harsh sun.

Poison then felt a pang of sadness; a car like this didn’t deserve to be locked away, kept in the dark. She deserved to be out on the road, speeding through the Zones, exploring their world…

“You beauty…” Poison breathes out loud as he spies the interior - brown leather seats, black harnesses. This car definitely had a history - one that Poison was eager to discover.

Just as Poison made to unlock the door, two sets of footsteps could be heard approaching; causing Poison to snap his head up and rest his hand over his holster. But when he heard his own name being called by a familiar voice - Kobra - he relaxes, a smug smile creeping onto his face.

“Over here! ‘Round the back, guys!”

Seconds later, a flustered Jet Star and Kobra Kid jog around the corner and come to an abrupt halt when they see what Poison had found; Kid’s expression falling into one of utter shock and amazement beneath his shades while Jet’s jaw literally drops open at the sight of the Trans, his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

“Is that…?”

“It sure is! And she’s all mine!” Poison grins like a madman, patting the hood of the Trans AM fondly as the other two approach, their eyes flickering over the bumper of the car in awe.

“How on earth did you come across this?” Jet then exclaims, walking around the passenger side and taking a peek in through the back window. “Dude, she must be worth a fortune! Look at that condition - she looks like she’s barely seen the sun!”

“I know…” Poison’s expression suddenly softens, turning his gaze back to the car as he rests his hand over the handle; hesitating just as the incoming footsteps signalled Ghoul’s arrival. 

“But that’s all gonna change, hey ol’ girl? She’s coming home with us…”

[the-cult-classic-bitch]

Final days of the fabulous killjoys

Basic backstory: reader is a member of the fabulous killjoys along with the others, reader is the mechanic and the one that makes the tools and gadgets that hacks into the BL machines that dispenses the guns. (K/j/n) = KillJoy Name (Y/n) = actual name MCR x reader (3rd person POV) ~Look alive, Sunshine 109 in the sky but the pigs won't quit You're here with me: Dr. Death Defying I'll be your surgeon, your proctor, your helicopter Pumpin' out the slaughtermatic sounds to keep you alive A system failure for the masses, antimatter for the master plan Louder than God's revolver and twice as shiny This one's for all of you rock'n'rollers All you crash queens and motor babies Listen up! The docs static voice played in the background as the sounds of tools and machine parts clatter through the small workshop. In the middle of the unforgiving dessert was a small but decent size building that was old but liveable, it was split in two, One half had tables filled with tools and odd machines, sheets of paper stuck to the wall, some with drawings and blue prints and others with wanted signs and pictures of 5 people. The other side of the building was occupied by an old, worn couch, a table, a fridge and two doors leading to a bathroom and a bedroom. But in the middle of the spilt building was a garage door allowing vehicles like the one currently occupying the space to enter. It was a an old BL/ind car, covered in different paints with an infamous black spider on the hood, and a pair of brown boots sticking out from underneath the vehicle. "Unbelievable.. how on earth can they mess it up so much.. I'm going to strangle them when I next see them..." a muffled but feminine voice said from under the car. And just as fate would have it the perpetrators slammed open the old door causing the female to crack her head off the car causing a nasty scrap and some very colourful curse words to spill from her mouth. "F#*$!" "Oops... ..sorry (k/j/n)" (Y/n) POV I wheeled out from under the car to see Fun Ghoul sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. Behind the small male stood a much taller one with blond hair and a stoic face ,Kobra kid, and another male with a large fro ,jet star,. "I'm going to kill you guys... stop driving so carelessly and maybe the car wouldn't need to be dragged here in the first place!!" I shouted with my wrench aimed at ghouls head. The smaller man held up his hands in surrender "I ain't the one that drives it though!" Just as I was about to throw the tool at the hyperactive mans head i hear a younger voice. "(K/j/n)!!" Behind the , now, cowering fun ghoul stood a little girl with a boom box in one arm and a giant smile of her face ,the girl, and our fearless leader with a smirk on his face and hair the colour blood, party poison. Girl jumped over ghoul and ran up to me just in time for me to give her a hug, I heard party telling ghoul to go and hide next to jet star on the couch and I hear the scared man shuffle over to the worn couch. "I missed you too girl" my voice muffled by girls helmet. I let girl go and whispered in her ear that there was Neptune pop in the fridge for her. Her face light up as I winked at her, as she ran over to the fridge next to Korea kid my smile disappears as I glare daggers at party who's eyes go wide in fear. I stalk over to the taller male, I may be short but at least I was taller than ghoul, hitting his head softly. "Drive more carefully you idiot, i can't spend all my time fixing your god dam car you know" I say as I walk back over to the large metal machine, hitting it twice on the hood to make a point. Party sheepishly grins as he follows me to a table covered in odd mechanical pieces, circuits and wires. His grin falters when he sees me staring at the five wanted posters nailed to the wall. Pictures of the people we once were back in bat city. His gaze goes from me to the poster I was staring intently at, it was a picture of me before I met the guys, before I became (k/j/n). In the picture my normally wild (h/c) was tied back to keep in with bl/ind rules, my (e/c) eyes void of any excitement or life and my lips set in a scowl that was aimed at the camera. I was so caught up in thinking of my old life I didn't notice the weight on my shoulder until I heard ghoul speak from my far left. "You know, I don't look half bad in that photo" I looked over to my left to see fun ghoul with his arm on my shoulder and jet star next to him, nodding in agreement with his arm on ghouls shoulder. " I admit I must agree with ghoul on this one" This time it was Kobra kid speaking from my far right with his arm on his brothers shoulder who was next to me with his arm on mine. We all stared up at the picture of our past until a young voice from the other side of the room called out. "Guys, what are you doing?" I looked over at the young girl on the couch with a gentle smile on my face. "Nothing girl, just thinking" I said as I fell down on the couch next to her, she curled up next to me as party sat on girls other side and kid sat on mine whilst Jet and ghoul sat on the arms of the couch. Girl then scowled up at me "Thinking about what?!" "It's a secret" I heard jet speak up from his side of the couch. "What why?!" "When your older we will tell you" kid said putting an arm around my shoulder whilst patting girls head. We looked like a family all sitting on the couch, a dysfunctional family but a family non the less, if only we knew that our time as family was coming to an end.... -Hiya, I hope you enjoyed my first x reader because why the hell not, I will take requests for what ever character your heart wishes and I lee you guys in the next chapter. BYE!!!-

[always-and-forever-a-killjoy]

Good morning fuckers, I wrote over 2k words in twenty-four hours (and a good portion of that at ass o’clock in the morning because I was up with cats).

Title: will you drive me back/can you take me home

Wordcount: 2427

Summary: When a run goes south, Party Poison gets stuck out in Zone Five with Cherri Cola. This leads to some interesting conversations, mainly involving Kobra Kid and a lack of emotional intelligence.

Warnings: There is some very lightly implied past sexual harassment (it's only one line, but I figured I'd warn for it). Also the usual amount of swearing.

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

Party Poison did not like being here. 

Here, being, of course, a dusty road in the middle of Zone 5, where they were currently standing, in the middle of the fucking night, watching Cherri Cola fiddle with the engine of his truck. They found the Zone poet annoying at best, and they certainly didn’t trust him, so it had taken quite a bit of convincing for them to come on this run in the first place. Just a short run with Cola, Poison. It will be easy, just a tiny trip to pick up some supplies. Cherri just needs a companion. It’s safer together, Poison. That’s what Dr. Death Defying had said back at the radio station as he talked Poison into this fucking train wreck.

The run had turned out to be neither short nor easy, filled with disasters from beginning to end. First, they had been attacked along the way, and then the neutral who had promised the supplies had attempted to backstab them. After a lot of negotiation and some mild threatening from Poison, they had been given the supplies. After that, plus fighting off a rather bold (and stupid) killjoy who tried to take their stuff (and managed to get Party’s jacket covered in fucking slime), they had finally been able to get back on the road...only for Cola’s stupid fucking truck to break down. So now Poison was stuck in Zone Five with a broken down truck and no jacket at one in the fucking morning, what was supposed to be a simple afternoon supply run having turned into a many hour slog. Frankly, they were getting pretty tired of it.

“Hey, Pepsi, any luck with the truck?”

Cherri Cola raised his head from where he was fiddling with the hood. Even in the moonlight, Poison could tell that his hair was a mess and his cheek was streaked with motor oil, disheveled as ever. “Not a bit, I’m afraid.”

“Fuck,” Poison swore. “Just what we need.”

“There is some good news, though,” Cola continued. “I think I know what’s wrong, I just don’t have the tools to fix it on me.”

“Well that’s not very helpful then.”

The other didn’t reply, busy rooting around in the glove compartment. After a minute or so, he looked up again. “Nope, not here.”

This night just got better and better. “Fuck. So now what?” 

Cherri Cola was fiddling with a handheld radio now. “Newsie isn’t far from here right now, I’m going to radio her and ask her to bring over the tools we need. Hello?”

“Cola? You good?” NewsAGoGo’s staticky voice crackled from the radio.

“Party Poison and I are stuck out in Zone Five, the truck broke down. Can you bring the full toolkit?”

There was a moment of silence from the other side, followed by “Damnit, Cola, tonight was my night off.” Poison heard a faint sigh. “Radio me your location and I’ll be there in twenty.”

They tuned Cola out as he gave Newsie the details, staring out at the desert night. Ghoul and Jet were bound to be worried if Poison didn’t get home soon. Whether Kobra would be worried was a toss-up; if he was, he certainly wouldn’t bother to tell Poison. Either way, they were supposed to be home three hours ago. Ghoul and Jet were probably already worried, come to think of it. Well, they would just have to suck it up and deal with it, since Poison had to suck it up and deal with being stuck with Cherri Cola.

Speaking of Cherri Cola, he had come over to tap them on the shoulder. “Hey, Poison, Newsie’s on her way. It’ll probably be a half hour or so, though, do you want to get back in the truck?”

Why was he so insufferably nice? “I’m fine.”

“You sure? It is pretty chilly out here, and your jacket is covered in slime, I don’t want to be bringing you back to your crew like ‘hey, Poison nearly froze to death’.” They swore Cola was grinning, although it was hard to tell in the dark.

“Fine, you’re going to be insufferable if I don’t.” 

“I’m fairly sure you already thought I was insufferable,” Cherri Cola said with a laugh, hopping back into the driver’s seat as Poison reluctantly followed him.

“Yeah, I do.”

The Zone poet glanced over at them. “I’ve always been a little curious about that- why do you hate me so much?” 

“Just curious?”

“Well, a bit hurt, yeah, but I’m hated by a surprising number of people. You get used to it.”

“I don’t see why anyone would ever hate you,” Poison snorted. “Perfect poet Cherri Cola, nicest person in the Zones.” They might have been revealing a little bit too much, but fuck it all. They were tired and done with everyone’s shit.

“But you still hate me, so I can’t be perfect.” His voice held a hint of a smile, but he dropped that as he went on. “I’m not infallible, Poison. I’m human, and I’ve done a lot of things I’m not so proud of.”

Poison actually bothered to turn and look at him this time, taking in his face in the moonlight. “You? Not proud of yourself?”

“Not everyone has your confidence.” Cola’s mouth twisted into a wry smile as he turned to face Poison. “And I have a feeling your confidence is more of a very good shield.”

They jerked away from that kind gaze. “Shut up, Pepsi.”

“As you wish.”

The silence of the desert invaded the car for a few moments more before “I always forget no one gets that reference.”

“What?” Poison eyed him suspiciously.

“It’s from an old movie D and I like; I’ve gotten in the habit of saying that instead of just ‘yes’ to a request.”

“Oh.”

“So really, I’m curious. Why do you hate me?”

“Don’t hate you, just don’t trust you,” Poison muttered. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled.

“Because of my past?” Cola’s eyes seemed infinitely old in that moment, shadowed by things no killjoy should have had to live through. “I won’t blame you if the answer is yes, you know. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I don’t know shit about your past. I don’t trust you because of how much you hang around my brother.”

Cherri Cola looked more startled than anything. “Kobra? He’s a good kid.”

“So you should stay away from him, then,” Poison snapped. The peace of the desert at night was nowhere near a suitable backdrop for their anger, burning and burning in contrast to the gentle desert sky. Stupid fucking Cherri Cola and his stupid fucking gentle eyes and the stupid fucking way Kobra trusted him, practically more than Kobra trusted Poison, it seemed.

To their surprise (and irritation), Cola didn’t even seem angry. “I don’t mean to hurt your brother in the slightest. He’s just a kid who could use a friend. Reminds me a bit of myself at that age, actually. Although you do even more.”

If you had asked Party Poison at age twelve where they thought they would end up, ‘sitting in a broken-down truck in the desert listening to Cherri Cola say that they reminded him of himself’ would not have been on the list. “You really don’t want to hurt him?”

“No, of course not! Kobra is a very kind person, and I don’t want to hurt anyone if I can avoid it.” 

They scanned his face and decided he seemed sincere. Cherri Cola was many things, but a good liar he was not. “Kobes got pushed around a lot back in the city. Harassed by older kids, older people. There’s always some creepy guy who hangs around the young, handsome trans dude.”

Cola’s face was nothing short of horrified. “Destroya, no, Poison. I’ve been there, I’ve been that young trans dude. If Kobra is uncomfortable with me around, I’ll leave him alone. Is- is it okay? Has Kobra asked you to talk to me about this?”

Poison was forced to admit he hadn’t. “No, I just worry about him.” Cola’s words caught up to them. “Wait, you’re a trans guy?”

Cola cracked a small smile. “What part of my personality made you think I was cis?”

“Now that I think about it, none of it.”

“Oh, good, I would hate for that to happen again.” 

They glared at him, but they had to admit it was a little bit funny. “You’re pretty fucking bad at acting cis, but you had me fooled.”

“Ah, I’m so clever and trickster-y.”

“I don’t think that’s a word.”

Cola shrugged. “I don’t have to use real words as long as people know what I mean. But back to our original topic, is there any other reason you don’t like me hanging out with your brother?” 

Yes. “No. Just worry about how much time he spends with you.” 

“I promise I’m not that bad of an influence.” Cola’s teasing grin dropped away again as he glanced over. “I think you worry he doesn’t want to spend time with you, but that’s not true. He does, and he cares. He’s just bad at saying it, and so are you.”

“Fuck. Off,” Poison growled. Why did he always have to hit touchy subjects like that?

Cola shrugged again. “Just saying what I’ve noticed.” 

They would have gotten further pissed at him, but a cold gust of wind swept through the car, cooling their anger and making them shiver. They desperately wished their jacket didn’t have to be sitting in the back, covered in some sort of chemical-smelling slime from their run-in with that rude killjoy who turned out to be somewhat of a scientist. He had been not only a ‘scientist’ (really, a bomb maker with some chemistry knowledge) but a dick as well. Poison really wasn’t happy that Cola has stopped them from punching his face in, and especially so now that they didn’t have their jacket.

Speaking of Cola, a hand passed in front of their vision, holding a familiar green jacket, and they figured they better actually listen to what he was saying.

“-not cold anyways, and your brother would kill me if I brought back popsicle Poison instead of Party Poison.”

“I hate you.”

“I know. Take the jacket.”

Poison groaned and took it, finding it warm and quite a bit too large for them. “How fucking tall are you?”

“Hmm. Five foot nine, or about that, I’d guess? I think that was what it was, anyways.” 

“Have I mentioned that I hate you?”

“Twice already.”

Poison glared at him again, still shivering a little, but just then, Newsie’s motorcycle pulled up with a roar of engines, nearly blinding them both with the headlights. NewsAGoGo themself leaned over to yell up at the truck.

“Hey, Cola, fucker, brought your toolkit!”

“Thanks, Newsie,” Cola called back. He turned to Poison. “Seems like you won’t be stuck with me much longer, which I figure you’ll appreciate. I am insufferable, after all.”

Poison huffed a sigh. “You’re a bastard, Pepsi, you know that, right?”

“Love you too, Party Poison.”

- 

By the time Party Poison arrived home that night, it was probably around two am. Cherri Cola had driven them back to the diner, insisting that it was only fair after putting them through that terrible run. Poison could have pointed out that it was actually Dr. D who sent them with him, but it was easier to just let Cola have his way. Besides the fact that they didn’t know how they would have gotten back to the diner without his help, given that Jet had dropped them off at Dr. D’s radio station that afternoon. 

The diner was silent as they walked in, but to their surprise, Kobra Kid was awake and sitting at one of the tables. 

“Hey, Pois.”

“Hey, fuckface. What are you doing up?” They kept their voice low as so not to wake up Fun Ghoul, who was snoozing in a different booth. Xe was curled up tightly- remarkably like a cat, actually.

“Waiting for you, dumbass.” Kobra didn’t look up at them, absorbed in whatever he was working on.

Poison’s throat felt strangely tight. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I would have been fine if you didn’t.”

“Yeah, well I wanted to know you were safe. Jet did too, but I made him sleep.”

They blinked a few times, trying to ignore the burning in their throat. It must have been the dust that was making their eyes water. “Well, I’m safe and fine. Didn’t appreciate being stuck with Cola, but he’s not that insufferable.”

Kobra snorted. “Why the change of heart?” 

“Talked to him a bit,” Poison shrugged. “Still insufferably nice and a bit of a pushover, but there are worse things to be than nice.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my sibling?” Kobra actually looked up this time, not waiting for a response before he muttered “Thanks, Pois.”

“Of course, fuckface.” Poison headed towards the back of the diner, where they knew Jet would be firmly passed out on their bed, but they paused to pull Kobra into a hug first. “I love you, you bastard. Even if I don’t say it.”

“What are you, sentimental?” Kobra didn’t pull away, despite his harsh words, and Poison could hear what he didn’t (and wouldn’t) say as he threw his arms around them in return. “Also, why are you wearing Cola’s jacket?”

“Fuck, I’ll need to give that back to him tomorrow. Was cold out there, and mine is covered in slime- and in the back of Cola’s truck. Fuck.”

“You’re an airhead.”

“Fuck you.”

"Fuck you too."

Despite that, Poison didn’t pull away and neither did Kobra, until eventually they did have to let go because Poison was starting to yawn.

But when they got up, Kobra followed them to the back of the diner, pausing in front of the door to his little room. “Night, Poison.”

They shot him a tiny, tired smile. “Night, Kobra.”

Their room was dark and quiet, and for once the presence across the hall felt like warmth and security as opposed to a reminder of one more way they had failed. Poison climbed into the bed, snuggling up against Jet Star, who stirred briefly before falling back asleep. They didn’t bother to take off Cola’s jacket; it was cold in here, alright? But Jet was warm, even if the desert night was freezing, so it was only a few minutes before Poison’s exhausted eyes slid shut.