☠︎ howdy, fraggers!~ CZAR here (they/them, 18+) this is a canon-inspired Lobo portrayal with my own lore, AUs & crossover nonsense~~~expect violence, dark humor, and cosmic chaos! adults only, if you've got a bounty or a plot come say hi!
𝓚𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓓𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓸𝓷
@screamsofasongbird.bsky.social
Ｈｏｗｄｙ ｈｏｎｅｙｂｅe. // 25+ // literate and descriptive // #Parody // #DBDRP //
"The cruelest~" Kate hums with a grin then she slowly nods. She didn't know what she expected, really. "Do you? That's shocking, actually. I didn't think you killers socialized like that, though now that I really think about it, it makes sense." She has a faux scared expression. "Oh nooo —
“No, no they don’t. Don’t trust everything you hear.” Kate replies but there’s a smile on her lips as she says this. She’s being a bit sassy now. She scratches at her cheek and notes his words on that. “Unless you killers talk like us survivors I’m pretty confident you’d find out from —
“Most of us can’t stand her. I don’t mind her, really, but I don’t really talk to her that much.” She couldn’t help the snicker that left her. “Ditto, I can’t stand most of you killers either.” For a moment it seemed as if she was contemplating the idea. Of being the bitch that turned away —
… She hasn’t ever been in one of those so… maybe? Guess she’ll find out!
Kate hummed. “There’s only one of us that wanted this and that’s Sable but of course she would.” There’s a shake of her head and a little roll of her eyes. Though, there’s a little smile on her lips at his reaction. “Eh, sometimes people need reassurance or another perspective to really —
"If it's gonna be anyone, it's gonna be Dwight or Claudette. I'm not saying they're weak just that... they're good at getting overwhelmed." She mused though she probably shouldn't be calling her fellow survivors out like that. She froze at the words and let them settle. "I didn't ask for this ——
“Striving for some sense of normalcy is why we haven’t honestly. Someone has to try and keep the peace, act like this is normal and not a never ending nightmare. We never asked for this, to be taken and tortured.” The more Kate spoke the softer her words got and not because she was ashamed or —
You ever feel like you’re being watched? No? Just me? Eh— [💧]
She never could understand the hype of cigarettes, could never get into them herself, but she kept her eyes forwards. No matter what she’d hear on the other side. Don’t want to break the illusion or ruin the mystery. To keep the curiosity at bay, she leaned over for her guitar and plucked —
There’s a roll of her eyes before she’s sticking out her tongue at him. “Stubborn motherfucker.” Kate grumbles and scoots away from him to the other side of the log and turns away from him to patch herself up. That’s as much privacy as either of them will get being out in an opened space —
Kate didn’t say anything. Not yet. She watched him try to process her words and struggle with it. Beneath the mask he was human just like her. Right? Facing someone over and over again, one tends to grow a certain type of way. For the guitarist it just so happened to be the mask bearing, —
A wince leaves her lips. There’s surely gonna be bruises from his grip when their version of the morning happens on them. The struggling stops when the blade comes in contact with her skin and she holds her breath, waiting and watching. Fire sears in her side and she makes a pained yelp. —
Kate winced at the hold on her wrist and the sudden rush of wind passing by her as she was moved in closer. There’s a fire in her eyes along with a spark of mischief and triumph. “I learned from the best.” She hissed out, tugging her arm and trying to get him to let go. “Do it,” she taunted —
The thought hasn't completely left her. This was her turf and she knew it like the back of her hand. It's hard not too with the amount of times she'd sat here. "Of course you do." Her tone is flat and she rolls her eyes. "Doesn't it ever get old?" Fingers take great care over the carvings —
Kate bristled but she didn’t take it— didn’t say anything to the burst of laughter and the mocking. That’s just what they do, the killers of the fog. It’s truly a game of wills and cat and mouse to the extreme. “It’s not that fucking funny.” She mentions while staring at the blade in her —
“It’s better than none.” She grumbles and moves to place her guitar against the log on her opposite side and out of the way. He was right, though, and part of that makes her feel… sad while another part of her felt vindicated. Her music wasn’t for everyone but if they don’t like it that means —
For a moment her gaze darted to the blade in all its menacing glory. Her body remembers the many times it’s been sheathed inside her back. The phantom pain sending a shiver down her spine— making the hair on the back of her neck stand straight. “‘Tis a pity. At least I can be famous here to —
Kate rolled her eyes but there’s a faint twitch of her lips. She’s fighting back a smile. “I was known as an up and coming singer before I came here, you know.” She mentioned while taking the guitar back and running her fingers across the finished surface of it. There’s a pause before she —
A scream left her. It was short-lived and loud enough to make a few nearby crows caw and fly away. The guitar jerked up and fell against her knees but wa otherwise unharmed and caught rather quickly. “Mother of fu—!” Kate turns her head back to gaze at him, huffing softly. “An original I —
It’s a pretty ordinary camp but it’s nice and all theirs. The fire crackles and there’s only the sound of crickets and the tuning of a guitar as she tries to get it just right. Completely oblivious. Sitting on the log turned bench.
Idly strumming as her friends appear back around the campfire.
