#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

[tranquilitybasehotelcasino]

i think of them frequently. in terms such as these

[aestheticforthewin]

Boy besties and their “biblically accurate” shopping cart

[punk-o-ween]

omg danger days is so splatoonable i totally won 5 of my matches while having vampire money on repeat (we lost those 5 matches and screamed in rage and my friend is dying laughing at me)

[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

[richie-shitlips]

it's finally happening! i'm gonna cosplay party poison! in public! and logan's gonna be the kobra kid! so exciting! (might post pics, might not. really depends on what my parents allow me to do)

[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.

[reborn--maggot]

the fab 4 when they get more fab 4-y

[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!

[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.

[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