#kobra my friend kobra

[ravenxbones]

updated kobra kid design! as i mentioned in my party poison post i’m redoing all of my killjoy designs so i have nice clear fullbody refs and can therefore be more consistent moving forwards!

untextured plain version for accurate colors & details under the cut!

[dykobra-kid]

"Hold the hand of the god-child”, they said, "as he falls from the sky"

Lyrics from That Unwanted Animal by The Amazing Devil

[aestheticforthewin]

Boy besties and their “biblically accurate” shopping cart

[hum--hallelujah]

you rise in your heart when you're breathing - 1.5k words, Jet and Poison hurt/comfort

Things can get foggy in the desert.

Jet Star can't remember parts of his own life. Things are a blur to him, facts and conjecture blended together until he doesn't know which way is up. He thinks it's a trauma, mental, thing more than a trauma, physical, thing. It started after the accident that took his eye. Like the chemical burns fried his brain along with one of his eyes. He tossed and turned mostly unconscious for most of a week after it happened. Sometimes he doesn't know what of that was dreams and what's real memories.

He knows he was born in the city. His parents were named Maria and Arthur. They were doctors. He has some of their books, stowed away when he ran for the Zones, still, dirtied and fingerstained. This is why Jet Star is the medic of the Four. He grew up around these things. No amount of blood can faze him, even pouring from his best friends.

He sometimes can't remember the events leading up to his departure from Battery City. He knows his parents are dead. He left after they died. He can't remember how they died. They weren't replaced, like Party and Kobra's mother was. Jet isn't ever sure if he came home to bodies on the floor or to an empty apartment. The versions are mixed up in his brain.

This is part of why Party is de facto leader of their crew. Jet cannot trust himself anymore. He has to remind himself who he is when he wakes up in the morning. Has to stare in the mirror and work hard to recall why he only has one eye, why the skin of the right side of his face is mottled and puckered and the eyelid melted shut. Sometimes he wakes up lying on his good side and panics before he remembers, thinking he's gone blind in the night.

Maybe it's a mercy that he can't remember that his parents died because of his deception, or the moment the Trans-Am's engine came to its detonating point. Maybe it's a mercy that he can't remember the pain he's accidentally caused himself and others. He never means it, but it always happens. This is why he can't trust himself with leadership.

And Party Poison is a good leader. All charisma and color, with a mind as sharp as the decadent glint in his eyes when he finds the missing piece of a plan. They've made it this far because Party has brought them here. Jet thinks that Party is beautiful. He'd once thought he was wickedly smart, able to wean himself off of City prescription pills at the small age of ten and plot his own escape at eleven. Then he met Party Poison.

Jet can't remember how they met. There's not even a piece of that left in the patchwork of his own brain. In his memory, it goes from one day he was on his own, a Zonerunner, lonesome smuggler just himself and his car, and then the next there was so much more color. Party's always been on the smaller side. A couple years younger than Jet, but he's larger than life. It's always been like this. One day Jet was alone and the next Party was there, with a little brother hissing and spitting before he learned to make space for words.

They'd never have been friends without fate. Poison isn't the kind of person to make friends anyways. Not with someone who can never stay. Sometimes Jet believes in the Phoenix Witch. He has to, when there's no other way they could have found each other.

Some days are particularly bad. Accumulation of trauma, stress, and exhaustion take their toll. Jet has to sit on his bed, staring at the floor, for several minutes just to remember why he's this tired. They'd saved those girls, though. Barely teenagers, bound and gagged in the back of a neutral's rig. Not a Zonerunner. No one who claims that title would smuggle kids for that kind of trade. The last thing Jet remembers is dropping the kids off with Gertie. They'll be safe there. He thinks Poison drove them home.

He blinks, trying to clear the blurry feeling from his eyes. ...Eye. He presses the heel of his hand into the good one, soaks in the familiar darkness. It catches him off guard sometimes. He feels unfamiliar to himself. A stranger in his own body, like the him that had two eyes has just been transplanted into the body of a him that only has one. When did he get an eyepatch? Who painted the lopsided glitter-glue star on it?

If he thought hard enough about it he could sort out the answers. The Girl. The Girl painted the star on his eyepatch. He spent an hour looking for it and receiving faux-innocent denials of knowledge from everyone else until she brought the little piece of leather out from behind her back and proudly handed it to him. But everything feels fuzzy and dull, uncertain. He sits with his head in his hands, willing himself to leave his room and join the others even though he might hesitate over names he's known for years. He can't do it. It's too blurry and tiring.

There's a knock at the door. He doesn't answer it, but it clicks open anyways. It's Poison. It's always going to be Poison.

"Ah, shit," says the well-known voice. "Bad day, huh?"

He nods, head still in his hands. "Fuck, Poison," he whispers, and feels Party step forward and crouch down in front of him. He opens his eyes. Eye. Drops his hands between his knees. Party could take them if he wanted. He probably won't. "Who am I?"

"That bad, sweetheart?" Party asks, voice surprisingly quiet for a person who's never once turned down a volume knob.

"It's just... fuzzy. Blurry. I know, but do I really?"

Poison looks up at him, and then unexpectedly reaches out, takes one of his hands. The other one raises to rest at the side of his head, halfway in his hair. "You're my Star," Poison tells him. And maybe that's all he really needed.

Jet nods his head sideways, bumping Party's hand. Poison isn't very touchy. It's always a choice. "You know, I still don't know how I met you," he murmurs.

Poison laughs, a soft, lyrical sound. Jet loves when Party is loose like this, sweet like sugar. It doesn't happen often. Most times, Party Poison is a flashbang, a firework. Wild and free, louder than the bombs they set off and brighter than the sun. This... is the sunrise, soft against Jet's skin.

"Sandstorm your fifth or sixth year outta Batt," Poison says, like it's the hundredth time he's told this story. Maybe it is. It probably is. Jet watches as Party's face turns misty with memories that Jet's missing. It's sad, in a way. Jet wishes he knew this. "You had the 'Am already, parked her to wait out the storm. I was at Tommy's, tryna make it back to the Kid before it hit but I didn't make it. I couldn't barely breathe by then. You saw me somehow," Party pauses, head tilted to look side-eyed at Jet.

"Your hair," Jet says softly, and reaches out to catch a strand of fiery red between his fingers.

Party smiles. "'S what you always said."

Jet hums. "What then?" He asks.

"By the time I'd hacked all the sand outta my lungs you were in the backseat thumping my back, helped me get my breathing back. Never planned to be friends with a smuggler," Party says, and shrugs. "Musta been fate." A wry smile that lights up the room. Jet puts all his focus on that smile. "Kobra freaked when we went back for him," Party continues. "Thought you'd nabbed me, tried fighting you off. Took him a while to warm up to you. Remember that?"

Jet nods. Kobra had been wary of him for a long time when the three of them first joined up. It wasn't until shortly before Ghoul joined their crew of three that Kobra started to consider him a friend. Jet's always considered Kobra a little brother. "Yeah, I remember," he says.

Party is quiet for a few seconds. Jet can hear them both breathing. "You okay, Jettie?"

Jet sighs. "Fuck, Party. I miss knowing all this." He doesn't know when he started forgetting. He just knows it happened. Sometimes he can claw his way back, but sometimes the more he fights it the worse it gets. He needs someone, sometimes, to lead him out of it. And that's Party, bright blazing beacon through the desert. Jet thinks he'll always find his way to Poison. Or Poison will always find him.

"Don't," Poison says, standing, still holding Jet's hand. "I got it for ya. C'mon." Jet follows, snagging his eyepatch on the way out of his room.

Kobra and Ghoul are up and clattering haphazardly around the front of the Diner as they recount and act out how a clap went down, eliciting shrill giggles from the Girl. Ghoul sees them first and stops playfighting, tilting his head in a silent question that asks, is stuff okay? Kobra freezes with his hands still formed into finger-guns, then shoots a lopsided grin and a chin-up nod their direction. "Yo, Jet."

Jet smiles back. The Girl scrambles off of the countertop where she's been seated and slams into his legs full-force with her arms wrapped around him. Party drops his hand. It's brighter out here and burns off some of the fuzziness around Jet's mind.

That's the real reason Jet isn't in charge of this operation, and never could be. It isn't an operation, it's a family. And Poison can always lead them out of the fog, into the light.

[ru5t]

here's a ⭐️ (or however many you'd like) for julieta/gem

Every ⭐️ exchanges for a headcanon about our characters’ (potential or existing) dynamic.

squid n i have been talking about weather in the zones the last couple years being on the fritz a bit (as in more dangerous than usual across all the zones, not just the outer zones) and with them both having this tendency to bounce around i think it's possible they met(/meet?) in an instance that's like, pure chance. on the same route, maybe heading the same direction or for the same place? and they get caught in some kind of big weather bullshit that they need to shelter from and so they kind of. set aside some of the trepidation of not knowing each other and in the spirit of overarching killjoy values help each other endure and Survive this latest bullshit the world is throwing around and maybe go away from it barely even knowing each others names but like, you know. weirdly trust bonded at least a little bit?

which could turn into seeing each other around and eventually begining to like. trade info on trading posts and news and stuff and. slow slow warmup i think? that starts almost more like ... work colleagues? contact points for traveling news and whispers of the underground and tech can always bring news from the city out and so on, you know. and it just... goes where it goes from there?

aaaannnd............. i saw a post from gem/julieta brainspace i think was about kobra and i need you to know it's technically an open relationship in the sense that neither of them are particularly a committing type and so it just makes sense for it to be. almost really a thing when they're together that stops existing the rest of the time? labels. who needs 'em. but uhhhh anyway this does not stop tech (or kobes!) from getting Jealous so uuuuhhhhhhhhh. we could go there it would be fully within reason and character for him (oohhhhhh so in character for him) but just know. there will be scratching and hissing and biting and murderous glares involved if we go here slfdkjgw;ltgj;sldkjfg

[blood-injections]

Work in progress posting bc I have a funny feeling i might scrap and restart this

[eggbagelz]

Poison and kobra resenting their parents in this bittersweet sort of way because they knew that they were under the control of the city but didn't try to break out like the twins did. ghoul not really caring about his parents cuz he was basically raised by cherri and to him that's all he needs. the girl missing her mother in an abstract sense bc she never knew her but desperately wishes she could have. jet missing his family with everything he has. Can u hear me

[pnuk-r0ck]

One of my friends literally called another friend one of my friends Kobra Kid on accident earlier. He doesn’t even like MCR.

[elis-corner]

Had a blast at OZCC Sydney today!

Highlights were getting cool merch from an artist I follow, and meeting two really cool cosplayers in passing!

[th3-bl00d-on-yr-hands-rom3o]

my son: daddd can we have link and kobra kid scissoring

me: we have link and kobra kid scissoring at home

link and kobra kid at home:

(dont ask why loom band kobra is wearing that hat, he belongs to my sister, she likes to dress him up and gets mad if i take it off)

finally . link and kobra kid can scissor just like god intended <3

[kv003]

more rlly quick sketches of my recom ocs, aka vipers only friends. they're both snipers and the one w the beanie has a british accent. kobras the more talkative one while boa is just happy to be here. jacques is french and kobra is british. bffs for life

[hum--hallelujah]

built this life and now it's mine - Fab Four fluff + jetpoison* (platonic or romantic, up to interpretation) (for @caffeineecold)

-

Kobra got the jukebox in the corner working two days ago and Jet's just returned from a run that nearly killed him but also scored them a crate of real booze — not the shitty moonshine brewed in the Zones that everyone pretends they like even though it tastes like the inside of the boot that gave bootlegging its name, real stuff.

Party's already sloppy drunk, sitting at the counter, and Jet doesn't usually let himself get this tipsy. Kobra and Ghoul sit in the corner next to the jukebox, picking out tunes and passing back and forth a bottle of champagne, of all things. For being a sandpup, Ghoul has expensive tastes.

Something bass-heavy is playing when Party slips from the stool and nearly topples over. Jet's reflexes are sluggish, but he manages to slide from his own seat and catch Poison. Party's pissed at him for nearly dying, again, and Jet expects a shove and dark look, but that's not what he gets. Instead, Poison leans into him, fitting them so naturally together that it's almost frightening.

"Y'okay?" Jet asks quietly into Party's hair.

"Dance with me, Star?"

Jet blinks, shocked. This is the last thing he expected. But he's just drunk enough, inhibitions just low enough, and he always crumbles when Pois calls him Star. Nobody else really ever does. "Sure," he finds himself saying, and Pois curls even more against him, their hands finding their places without even looking. It's too easy to sway back and forth together, in some facsimile of dance that's really just more an excuse for the comfort of touch that they both need, to the lilting gravelly guitars playing through the jukebox speakers.

The track skips and Kobra thumps the side of the box to get it playing again, a rising guitar interlude without words. Poison's head is nested against Jet's jaw, red hair filling his entire field of vision. On an impulse he doesn't resist for once, probably due to how tipsy he is, he presses his lips to Poison's temple.

"I'm sorry, sunshine," he whispers. "Fuck, Poison, I love you. Not the way... you want me to, probably, but I do. I love you so much." His eye is wide and staring, a little bit desperate. There's no other way he can say it.

"Don't leave me," mumbles Poison softly into the skin of his neck. The song is different now, something softer. "My Star..."

Jet closes his eye. "I'm not trying to," he says.

Poison sniffs, still swaying to the new tempo of this song. "Try harder."

Pois probably won't remember this in the morning. Kobra and Ghoul will give them weird looks, like they've completely lost it, and Jet will know why. Heck, they're giving them weird looks now, over the top of a champagne bottle and between smirking giggling asides to each otherm But Party is too drunk to retain much. They won't ever talk about it, except maybe when it comes up in an argument they force everyone to hear. You said you wouldn't leave me, you said you love me. I don't care how it is I just want you to love me whatever way you can.

The future is unfolding in front of them in so many ways. But right now it's just two friends, irresponsibly drunk and folded into each other.

[knifesxedge]

ok this got two notes so i’m going to talk about it

i don’t honestly have a plot in mind rlly but i feel like at SOME point SOMEBODY would connect the dots whether it’s some random tumbleweed or juvie hall that is like uhhhh the lives these droids are describing if even in the vaguest possible sense sound like they were killjoys or it’s someone who knew the four hearing about the unkillables from a runner and it starting some gears turning it a combination, idk

that being said. let me tell you about the droid bodies they’re in

party is in a red model android girl. the droid is missing both its legs right below the hip joint with just like. raw machinery and wires exposed there. it’s also missing its left hand at the wrist, with the same deal, exposed inner mechanisms and live wires that occasionally spit sparks, etc. it still has its wig though even though it’s really dirty and has engine grease and god-knows-what-else in it. the droid is also missing its battery so there’s just a cavity in its back where the compartment is. (something i really want to emphasize is that these droids should not be moving around on their own. But They Are). they just go by “red” since that’s what all the other red-model girls go by and they can’t really think of anything they’d prefer to be called

ghoul is in this BLTV droid that they staff the film crews of BLNews and all their entertainment programs with. imo the way BLI sees it humans are imperfect so the less of them that are involved with the tv they show the public/use as propaganda the better, hence all of the staff with the exception of executives and whatever people are on camera are droids specialized for TV/newscasting/etc. it’s the sort of droid meant to have a camera built into its shoulder that can dolly up and down and move around on tracks in the studio to film, only ghoul’s model is missing its film camera leaving a huge reservoir in its right shoulder. there’s also a missing panel in its chest underneath which is where its “vocal processor” (these droids don’t really speak per say but they can communicate in binary) should be connected but is cut, leaving sparks (what ghoul-droid goes by) incapable of communication unless the circuits and wires inside are reconnected + a current is run through it

jet’s in a Citizen Replacement Unit modeled after a female citizen presumably that has died. the only thing they have to identify her is a BL ID that only has her first name (Denita) legible so that’s what they call the droid. anyways, they’re not particularly recognizable as whoever they’re supposed to be anyways because said droid is missing an eye, has no synthetic hair or wig, and has a giant gaping jagged hole in its chest. it wears the tattered remains of a grey BLI office suit which is what they found the ID clipped to.

and kobra’s in a cleanodroid unit that’s missing both its arms. cleanodroids have all of their sanitization and cleaning apparatus in their arms so 6275 (the model number of the droid) is functionally useless. cleanodroids are what clean the city streets and BLI buildings at night after curfew when the citizens are asleep so they’re not really meant to look friendly or human-esque in any way. they’re more like spindly exoskeletons with clamp feet that can hook into panels and such allowing them to clean inside ducts and vents and stuff like that. full disclosure the design is inspired by the cleaning droids described in graffiti tarot by tlon which has some crazy-good + complex + creative worldbuilding for the universe of danger days (on a side note, i’d def recommend giving their series a read if you can ignore the fact that it’s tagged as fr*rard. trust me when i say that aside from using some band members’ names as city names in the first fic it really doesn’t come across as an mcr or rpf AU fic at all. like i will openly admit I think these fics are quite good examples of the killjoys not being mcr with super strong worldbuilding. ANYWAYS.)

ALL THAT TO SAY. sparks carries red everywhere because they can’t walk on their own with two missing legs and red uses their missing hand to stimulate and reconnect the circuits (basically by shoving the metal and live wires of their wrist into the panel) in sparks’ chest so he can then speak. being a crew of droids all members of their party understand binary so they only ever need to translate for him if a human is present.

yes this was largely an excuse to think of cool android designs and think about robot funpoison. okay

*guy who’s been thinking about five nights at freddy’s too much voice* what if like. okay. an AU where when the four die in the city during SING their souls get trapped in the electricity but like specifically in discarded droids. and they don’t remember their lives or who they are even really but they know what they all are to each other and that they’re a family. the city keeps trying to throw these guys out because they’re droids the city finds obsolete/too broken to repair so they’ve just junked them but now suddenly they’re moving and doing stuff and talking when they shouldn’t be able to so they keep just walking out of the junkyard and back into the lobby

[fabulous-joys]

party: maybe i die. skydiving explosion. and then you go and get with ghoul. and it makes me sad. but if he's gonna be with somebody, i'd like it to be you

pony: strange, but sweet

party: only, i didn't really die. i was faking it. and i come back. i spy on you from my red corvette. and i'm planning to kick your ass, but i see how happy you make him. and i have to walk away. i have to. and i do. slowly. in a rainstorm

pony: okay, i don't know where this is-

party: but as time goes by it eats away at me. you're out living it up with my boyfriend. and i'm alone, in a cave. training

pony: anyone else want to chime in?

party: i thought you were my friend... I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FRIEND!

kobra: no one would believe you faked your death like that, poison. you hate skydiving.

party: THAT'S BESIDES THE POINT!

pony: WHAT IS THE POINT??

[s1ushyz]

MCR ARTISTS I HAVE A VISION AND I NEED TO KNOW IF YOU GUYS SEE THE VISION TOO!

Okay so you know the line " I won't go down by myself, but I'll go down with my friends" In you know what they do to guys like us in prison? I can't draw this but imagine the fab four surrounded by a shit ton of dracs, the killjoys are all types of busted up and the lyrics are like,, written around them,,

Here's a shitty demonstration of what i mean

Something like this yk?? Do you guys see the vision?? 😭 I wasn't gonna draw the masks but the whole die with your masks on thing, imagine they have them on ^_^"

I WANT TO CLARIFY they're standing in v formation (ha!) With both party and kobra at the front and jet and Ghoul behind them a little

[natonship]

Quotes from our Danger Days DnD sessions

(aka me and my friends being hilariously in character)

__________

(Kobra orders the group to go back because Poison almost fucking died)

Cherri: That’s quitter-attitude, Kobra.

__________

Pony: Hey, how are you doing?

Cherri: Great, just found a corpse!

__________

Kobra: It's only a clown car when Ghoul's inside!

__________

Ghoul: I can cook!

Kobra: I think you've proven that you can't.

Ghoul: People change!

__________

Ghoul: Do birds light on fire naturally?

__________

Cherri about Ghoul: He's intelligent, he's just full of shit.

__________

Cherri: If we have any more family time, Ghoul might actually die.

Part 2: