#Coinless Adam Park

[augment-techs]

For the sending lyrics and you’ll make a fake wip summary;

If I could only get back to yesterday,

Today would be a perfect day

If I could only get back to yesterday,

Oh, the different things I'd do and say

I'd be so good to you

If I had a second chance

Yes, I would (Yes, I would)

Yes, I would

Drakkon and Eugene

Title: all that has been, all that will be (has no meaning anymore) Rating: T Warnings: Attempted Infanticide, Violence. Relationships: World of the Coinless Eugene Skullovitch/World of the Coinless Adam Park; World of the Coinless Eugene Skullovitch ^ Lord Drakkon | Tommy Oliver; World of the Coinless Kimberly Hart/World of the Coinless Farkas Bulkmeir; Coinless Trini/Scorpina; Coinless Zack Taylor/Coinless Jason Scott; Ninjor & Dulcea. Characters: Coinless Eugene Skullovitch; Coinless Adam Park; Lord Drakkon | Tommy Oliver; Prime Tommy Oliver; Prime Billy Cranston; The Blue Emissary; The Omega Rangers; Ninjor; Dulcea; The Green Dragon; The Orange Power Coin; The White Tiger. Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Found Family; Families of Choice; Aftermath of Violence; Unresolved Grief; PTSD; Literal Infantilization; Planet Hopping; Good Parent Eugene Skullovitch; Good Parent Adam Park; Eugene Skullovitch is Not Having a Good Time; Redeemed Lord Drakkon; Verbal Abuse; Past/Implied Child Abuse; Hijinks. Summary:

The Emissaries realized their mistake, just before Kiya had slaughtered Blue and set forth the Orange Empyreal on the Prime universe. Drakkon deserved a punishment for all his misdeeds, but perpetual solitary confinement wasn't the way to do it. They could shift the balance of Power throughout the cosmos if the Grid deems it necessary, why not shift other things? So it went like this: The Red Emissary removed the toxic will of the Green Dragon from Drakkon, the Yellow Emissary removed his memories, and the Blue Emissary removed everything that made him a threat by turning back the clock and arranging a meeting with the World of the Coinless; an infant Tommy Oliver in hand, naked and confused and not quite a week old. They gathered the surviving Rangers--including the ones Zordon made a grave error in excluding--in the throne room and set the child on a table with the proclamation that it was them that would decide on what constituted justice. When they vanished, leaving the child behind, there was the mounting horror that came with it; showcasing that there was little left of what one would call mercy, with suggestions such as doing as mankind did centuries ago in leaving the infant in a vase out in the elements, or sending it away to the courts of the united planetary systems that also wanted a crack at Drakkon. Or simply setting the newborn on its stomach to let it stop breathing.

The real horror came from only Skull stepping forward when the child--he was an infant, like so many that he'd pulled out of the rubble and spirited to the others in the Coinless--mewled pitifully with the chill of the air and the man wrapped him up in his sentry's cape. (Skull was always meant to be a parent. And Orange is always benevolent in its choices. Even in enraged and in want of vengeance.)

*

(Just for fun; a little theoretical excerpt below the cut)

He was thirty-eight, worn down to a thread, and feeling a little disgusted and fed up with just about everyone. Why bother defending choices that were going to be torn to shreds because nobody was willing to look beyond their own feelings of revenge and the unfairness of it all? Why bother looking for help even in the face of a bestfriend that had been so far away for two decades? (It probably wouldn't have hurt as much if he was as heartless and disgusting as everyone seemed to think he was. There was something akin to despairing familiarity in that.) Continuing his tramp along train tracks that had not been used since before The Final Battle, the long stretch of them familiar even after years, Skull tried to ignore how heavy the bag he'd brought along was, how his eyes were starting to become sore from the receding sun--as well as his trying not to embarrass himself with tears--and made sure his grip along wrap sling he'd had to fashion out of curtains was secure. Taking his eyes off of the horizon and tracks, just for a moment, Skull looked down again at the little bundle that had caused such a hubbub and breaking of any sort of civility. The barest traces of brown hair soft to the touch, skin much darker than it had been over the last few years, tiny little hands curling into Skull's shirt as the little hazel eyes twitch under petal soft lids in sleep. Tommy Oliver, reduced to a foundling that couldn't have been more than a week old; not even five pounds and completely helpless at at the mercy of every other being on the planet. For some reason the unfairness that everyone else seemed to feel didn't come to Skull. Not even the feeling of being cheated. He wouldn't pretend he understood it. Like he wouldn't pretend he couldn't hear the slightest steps of someone that had been trailing behind him for a good hours. "You really shouldn't be following me, Adam. What would Rocky and Aisha say?" He turned gently, not swaying and careful not to suggest vertigo in his own exhaustion, and looked over to the trees along the tracks that came part and parcel with the wilderness taking back the earth far faster than anyone would have guessed so long ago. It took a moment, not even three seconds, but exactly where his eyes were trained, grey and piercing as any wild animal, the tree branches in full green parted, the tall grass parting against knees as Adam Park loped out of his carefully hidden place and tried very hard not to look...embarrassed? ...And also like he wasn't obviously carrying a much bigger pack along his shoulders that was at least twice the size of the one his former captain carried.

[ajgrey9647]

Offering them up as the entertainment to party guests to do with as they please: Sentries Skull & Adam~

The Real Lady Drakkon

She cast discrete glances through her long lashes, lifting the crystal wine glass with its pool of deeply scarlet liquid to her lips. The flickering light from the chandeliers played across Lord Drakkon’s angular features, which were more pronounced than the Tommy Oliver of Scorpina’s world. He was older than the boy she’d once fought alongside during the height of Rita’s Green Ranger days, twenty years older by the tyrant’s estimate. A fine weaving of black veins ghosted the flesh of his neck, reaching as high as his hollowed cheek bones as if the man bore an infectious disease.

‘An overload of Grid energy,’ the woman noted. ‘Mere humans were not meant to use the power of two coins at the same time. Their pitiful bodies can’t handle the side effects.’

To her discerning eye, however, Lord Drakkon appeared to be tolerating the combined energy quite well. Strapped with thick muscle unlike the lanky, leaner Green Ranger, he boasted an impressive physique under the elaborate formal attire that stretched snugly over his biceps and chest. Definitely not hard on the eyes if Scorpina could ignore the memories of the freckle-faced, childish Tommy Oliver, who somehow turned into quite the wet blanket once freed from Rita’s obedience spell.

She hadn’t foreseen becoming trapped in an alternate universe in her future, certainly not one as dystopian and… ‘Gothic’ was the term she needed, yet the alien bounty hunter wasn’t familiar with such human terminology. Here in the Coinless realm, Rita Repulsa had won, destroying the Rangers and taking over the Earth.

But such feats had cost the witch her life, dying at the hands of those snot-nosed little brats before they’d scattered like a nest of cockroaches. Scorpina found herself under the protective gauntlet of this ‘Lord Drakkon’, a more aggressive and lethal version of Tommy, who’d taken the reigns and ruled over this bizarre Wonderland.

Tonight, he’d thrown a grand ball to celebrate her arrival and make the proper introductions to the aristocracy. The cavernous room seemed to sparkle as the array of candlelight reflected off the cut crystal vases, wine decanters, and goblets, twinkling upon the handles of sterling silver and ivory utensils, and highlighting the intricate engraving of the fine China plates and bowls.

Fragrant blooms tumbled over the lips of vases situated in the middle of linen-covered tables and the music of stringed instruments floated delicately through the air, playing music of a by-gone era. Several of the aristocracy, bedecked in jewels, silks, furs, and sweeping ballgowns twirled across the dance floor in something Drakkon informed her was called a ‘waltz’, before taking his place at the head of the table.

As he sat staring down at the grandeur of his wealth and power, the man’s expression was impassive, almost bored. Idly, he swirled the wine in his chalice, taking the smallest of sips as an afterthought. The plate before him boasted an aromatic cut of lamb with mint sauce, new potatoes swimming in rich butter, and bourbon-glazed carrots, all untouched. It smelled delicious to Scorpina and she was confused as to why the evil Ranger allowed it to grow cold as the band continued to play and the dancers gracefully executed the elaborate steps in a harmonious rhythm.

Lord Drakkon must have felt her eyes trailing over him and, when he slowly turned his head in her direction, she quickly averted her face, cheeks flaming. Quickly, the petite woman pretended to be engrossed in the activity taking place just across the room from where all the gaiety was taking place. For those uninterested in dancing or feasting, the tyrant had thoughtfully catered to a different sort of appetite, one that jarred with the fancy, ethereal ball going on about them.

A select number of Sentry guards, boasting all colors and ranks, were contorted in various positions in all stages of undress as they serviced Drakkon’s sycophants, each man’s face etched in sheer passion and enthusiasm though they truly felt anything but…

There was a steep price to pay if one didn’t play ball, so to speak… If they were to sour the illusion and the fun being had…

One of them, a dark-haired Red Sentry Captain, artfully managed to sit astride one partner while also being mounted from behind before a third cock found its way into the inviting mouth. The sweaty drunks grunted and groaned, sounding like pigs in mud as they used this guard like an old gym sock.

Scorpina had to admit that the Sentry had talent, moving in tandem with the motions of the bloated bodies crushing against his own.

“Enjoying yourself, my dear?” Drakkon’s rich, elegant voice cut into her thoughts.

The evil Ranger’s deadly fingers uncurled from the stem of his wine glass, the action strangely mesmerizing, as he settled it on the tabletop before he hooked one to summon one of his servants.

“Refresh the lady’s beverage,” he ordered icily.

His mouth smoothly shifted into a flirtatious smile when he again met Scorpina’s eyes.

The warrior curled her moist ruby lips, slowly licking the lingering drops of red wine from the lower.

“Yes, your lordship. I appreciate all the generosity you’ve bestowed upon me,” she purred.

Lord Drakkon favored her with a grin of his own, the sight more one of horror than friendly endearment.

“You are most welcome, Scorpina. A friend of my former empress is a friend of mine,” he responded, the sentiment sounding as if read from a script. “Rita was a remarkable woman. It was an honor to serve her.”

The loud moaning of several men reaching climax erupted from the ‘dark side’ of the ballroom, though the tyrant remained as nonchalant about the interruption as he would a bird swooping through the sky.

“I’m sure that you long as much as I do to avenge our empress’s demise at the hands of those troublesome Coinless filth.”

Tears pricked Scorpina’s eyes, and they glistened in the candlelight.

“I can’t believe they killed her… I thought Rangers had some type of hero’s code or something,” she growled.

This Coinless universe was very different from the one she knew, a place ‘out-of-time’, relegated back to the days of old. The social hierarchy was something the woman warrior intended to commit to heart, knowing that the best odds for survival came with aligning with the one most powerful.

Drakkon grunted dismissively, his eyes staring out into the bustle of the ballroom.

“As I did as well. However, teenagers can be…fickle. Impulsive. Temperamental.”

Pushing his chair back from the table, he hauled his large form from the upholstered seat, garnering the attention of the others in attendance. Gracefully, Drakkon strode to Scorpina’s side, pausing to hold out a gloved hand, his glossy, gray-streaked mane brushing his waist when he bowed.

“Care for a waltz? I’m an excellent teacher,” he cooed.

A chilly aura radiated from his proffered arm, whether due to the combined, bastardized coin or his own person, she was uncertain. But clearly, this was the one she needed to beguile; she would just have to ignore the fact that this was essentially the more deadly twin of the boneheaded Tommy Oliver.

Batting her lashes playfully, she pretended to dry her eyes and accepted the invitation.

“I’d love to, Lord Drakkon,” she whispered breathily as she daintily placed her fingers over the glove’s alarmingly cold silk.

He assisted the woman to her feet, then the pair skirted the length of the expansive, linen-draped table; the villain guiding her gallantly as if they were in some old-fashioned romance novel. All eyes were on them when they reached the dance floor and Scorpina pressed her svelte form seductively against the tyrant’s body.

Lord Drakkon seemed to loom over her, his hulking build dwarfing her own, much like a grizzly bear balanced on its hind legs. The thought of those rippling muscles sent a tingle directly to her groin and she wandered if the man could feel her nipples, not constrained by any bra or bodice, through the silk of their garments. If he did, his expression didn’t give it away as he began to grandly twirl her about the ballroom.

From the head table, Drakkon’s two ‘head guards’ kept watching, their attention sweeping the grand room for any signs of dangerous foe.

The Ranger Slayer, an older, more hostile version of that annoying Kimberly Hart, was dressed in a daring black and pink ball gown, the skirt split up the thigh to accommodate a tussle if one was called for. Her brown hair shorn and ears sporting multiple piercings, along with a battle-hardened brittleness to her pretty features, almost made her unrecognizable as the former Pink Ranger.

Watching with detachment as her master moved about the room with Scorpina on his arm, the Slayer’s expression never altered much as if she were incapable of expressing any emotion.

Not so with the lithe, gray-haired man that had been eating at Drakkon’s right hand, his lowly position accentuated by his place on the floor instead of at the table proper. However, his formal attire was a black, form-fitting suit accentuated with flashes of silver. His hands were covered by fancy black gloves that appeared to somehow sparkle when he moved his arms.

Even as he dutifully assessed the assembled party, he glared down at Scorpina with glittery eyes, though his mouth was fixed in a facsimile of a wide grin, showing all his beautiful white teeth beneath a dark beard. Whoever he’d once been, or whatever version of some Prime universe human, Scorpina didn’t know.  But it was evident that the pet didn’t like her touching Drakkon as the woman looked up at him, feeling the weight of his fury on her.

“You are quite the dancer,” she complimented her partner, daringly tracing a red lacquered nail along the villain’s jaw, an obviously flirtatious move designed to aggravate the human-canine. “There must be some way I can repay you for you protection and hospitality.”

Watching the impertinent tart throwing herself at his master, Red’s grin shifted into a jealous snarl, his gloved fingers hooking as if they claws were they rested on his powerful thighs. He nearly growled aloud when a firm hand settled over his thick, shaggy hair. Ranger Slayer had quietly moved down to sit beside him, and she imperceptibly shook her head.

“Down, boy,” she ordered robotically.

Lord Drakkon continued to sway and dip the errant Prime visitor as if he didn’t notice the overt way she was trying to seduce him. Whether he was truly oblivious or just fucking around wasn’t yet certain.

Now, Scorpina’s fingertips brushed the tyrant’s jaw, teasing at his lower lip as she lifted herself on tip-toe under her mouth was very close to his.

“Surely, there’s SOMETHING I can offer in return,” she breathed, letting the implication linger as she upped the ante.

Ranger Slayer could see the woman was pushing it with Red, who’s mouth now gaped open in a version of a canine lifting its hackles, promising swift bloody death. Kim’s hand had glided to the back of the pet’s neck, scruffing him, while the sharp point of her bow, obscured by the tabletop, poked his chest, dissuading him from bounding over the elaborate feast and tearing into the woman.

“Stay!” she hissed. “Behave yourself, bad dog!”

“I’m going to tear that little bitch to shreds,” he rasped vehemently, daringly pressing into the sharp blade of the bow as if he didn’t even register the growing cut, beads of blood appearing on the cold steel.

The Slayer cursed, the word sounding bizarre with no emotion behind it as she gripped Red’s neck more tightly and lifted the pointed heel of her stiletto to hover it over his groin.

“No, knock it off! Heel this minute!”

The notes of the dance slowly faded away then and the dictator briskly stepped back from Scorpina’s cloying embrace.

“Allow me to consider what would best please me,” he simpered, lifting a delicate hand to his lips. “In the meantime, I wish to present you with a special gift… A token of my appreciation for the promise of your future assistance in dealing with my quarrelsome Coinless resistors.”

He gave a piercing whistle.

An almost angelic looking Black Sentry appeared at his side within moments.

“He will escort you to your room, my lovely. You may use him for your pleasure however you see fit,” he smirked. “I would prefer to keep him in service as he’s also an excellent seamstress, so I’d appreciate whatever activity you undertake not end in his death. But…”

He shrugged.

“Things happen. I can understand that better than anyone.”

Drakkon clapped his hands twice and emitted another sharp whistle to get the other guests’ attention.

“Party’s over… Now get the fuck out of my palace!”

As if anyone needed told twice…

Scorpina had looked confused even as she took the Black Sentry’s elbow and allowed him to guide her from the ballroom. Drakkon played up wide-eyed obliviousness until the petite woman was out of sight. It took much to reign in the mischievous laughter that threatened to bubble over at the whole sordid situation.

He strutted comically back towards where Red and Ranger Slayer sat, grandly scooping up his chalice for another sip of wine, a job well done.

“Such a gullible one, isn’t she? A little disappointing from the Scorpina that battled the Rangers at my side,” he idly commented. “Still, she warrants keeping a careful eye on, my darlings. There’s information she possesses that could be most helpful to my cause…”

“I don’t like her!” Red suddenly snapped, speaking out of tune in a way he knew would earn him the strap. “She’s a little bitch!”

He’d leapt to his feet, almost toppling Kim onto her ass, and he looked like he was about to stomp his foot in a childish tantrum.

Even the usually emotionless Ranger Slayer looked taken aback by the spiteful outburst. She knew that Red knew better than to speak without express permission, to curse in Drakkon’s presence, or give his opinion without it being asked for. The mutt was asking for it at this point.

But the tyrant chuckled tenderly, reaching out to grab a handful of the front of the pet’s fancy attire. He tugged Red over the table until they were face to face.

“Aww…. Got a touch of the green-eyed monster, darling,” he teased, before slowly lapping his tongue over the other man’s lips.

“Don’t fret… I only have eyes for you, my beautiful Red.”

The anxious pet was still not soothed, his dark eye large and wet, as if he might burst into nervous, insecure tears.

Drakkon sighed, rolling his eyes at the mutt’s dramatics.

“Why don’t you show me just how much I mean to you in our chambers tonight? I might even spare you getting the strapping you so rightfully deserve for bumping your gums like you just did…If you do a good job expressing your devotion, of course.”

Strolling arm in arm with the waif-like Black Sentry, a man who’d quietly stated his name was Adam as if she gave a fuck, Scorpina puzzled on where exactly she’d went wrong this evening. The woman knew she was attractive with a toned, trim figure, perky breasts, and a tight ass. Normally, human men drooled over her appearance.

Her eyes cut over to this ‘Adam’, who’d wisely remained silent, an obviously submissive little worm. The Sentry wasn’t bad looking either, his features still maintaining a patina of innocence despite his day job. She could do a lot with that and as horny as she was, that was a good thing for them both.

But something nagged at her.

“Let me ask you a question,” she demanded, visibly startling the dark-haired man.

“Yes, milady,” he politely responded. “How may I be of service?”

She paused as she considered how to phrase her musing.

“So, Lord Drakkon…” Scorpina began. “He’s a very handsome man… Powerful…rich…”

Adam nodded slowly, his expression hesitant as if he didn’t want to talk about his lord. Or maybe he was too afraid to.

“Yes, ma’am, he is,” he carefully answered.

Was this insect daft? How did he not get what she angling to find out?

“Well…” the warrior prodded impatiently. “Surely, there’s a…I don’t know… a ‘Lady Drakkon’ in residence?”

The Black Sentry came to a sudden halt, nearly causing her to fall backwards.

“I’m sorry… What? A Lady Drakkon?”

Adam looked genuinely lost.

“I think the lady’s asking if our dapper dictator has a lover. Am I right?” another voice echoed up the corridor, sounding somewhat amused, though exhausted.

Looking over his shoulder, the Black Sentry caught sight of Skull limping his way towards them, his hair pulled in sweat-dried tufts, lips swollen, and stinking of body odor and sex.

Scorpina curled her lip in disgust.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking, you breathing sex doll. Is there a lady who has his heart?”

Suddenly the men erupted in a roar of laughter, the Red Sentry Captain even slapping his thighs as he bent at the waist, grimacing through the giggles.

“A woman who has his heart…” Skull crowed. “A fucking HEART!”

Adam at least tried to reel it in in order to spare her feelings.

“Oh, there IS a Lady Drakkon, I guess… I mean, technically…”

He looked to the other man, unsure how to explain the wildness in his own words.

“That isn’t the title I’d use exactly,” Skull snorted. “Well… sometimes it works…”

Scorpina pushed the soft-spoken Sentry off her person, planting her hands on her hips.

“What are you two going on about? How is there a ‘sort of’ Lady Drakkon? Is she like a high-priced whore or mistress or something?”

This only caused the men to laugh harder.

“Something you should know around here,” the Red Sentry Captain explained between guffaws, “you won’t get anywhere with Lord Drakkon. But word to the wise… You’re better off just not discussing it or asking questions when it comes to his personal affairs.”

Scorpina rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Let me guess who the lucky gal is,” she snarked. “It’s the same in my universe! Little Miss Kimberly Hart!”

Adam tried to hide the look of distaste behind a gloved hand.

“Lord, your universe is messed up!” he remarked. “That’s sort of nasty. Ranger Slayer? And Drakkon?”

The woman couldn’t see what the big deal was.

“Why are you acting so grossed out? Tommy’s got a thing for the Pink Ranger in my world too. Big whoop!”

She was starting to get pissed now at being the butt of their laughter.

“Lady,” Skull drawled. “This isn’t the Prime universe… Pigs fly here but no way in hell has Drakkon ever diddled Ranger Slayer…”

“You talk too much,” she decreed hotly, looking at the Red Sentry with contempt. “Get lost.”

Then she stared imperviously at Adam.

“And you… take me to my chambers. I’ve got an itch to scratch, and I’m bored playing these mind games!”

To her delight, this ‘Adam’ showed much promise when it came to pleasing her. If he was feigning being aroused by her bossy, bitchy demands, he was one amazing actor. Scorpina had been willing to sacrifice being in control in the bedroom if that’s what Lord Drakkon required, though it truly wasn’t her forte to be the submissive one in the dynamic.

Perching on the edge of the vanity’s plush stool, she spread her legs beneath the flowing skirt of her ballgown and pointed to the carpet immediately before her.

“You… power down or whatever it is you guys do here…”

She smiled dangerously.

“I’ve got something for you to taste…”

Scorpina spent a fair amount of time busting Adam’s balls, wearing the soft-spoken into a writhing, sweat-drenched shell before she decided the pitiful human could take no more. She orgasmed at least five times and, while it took the edge off, she wanted…

More.

Surely, a man of Drakkon’s immense power, bolstered with the Ranger strength and endurance of two coins, could finish her off…

Her panties were still soaking wet, clinging to every curve and crevice as she crept up the winding staircase to the tyrant’s private chambers. She hoped the aroma of her arousal would inspire the clueless Ranger as to where her desires truly lay tonight. With all that he’d accomplished, Drakkon couldn’t be as ridiculously boneheaded as his Prime counterpart.

Deciding between leather and lace for the rest of her ‘gift-wrapping’ had been difficult, but she ultimately decided that the tyrant must prefer leather. Scorpina could just…tell. She’d heard the wild stories of his theatrical fuckery and leather just fit.

Of course, she thought must of those tales had to be greatly exaggerated.

Lord Drakkon was a little…’off’ but he hadn’t behaved as nutty as she’d been led to believe.

Adam and Skull were clearly full of shit. She’d been utterly confused as to how they couldn’t answer a simple question.

Was there a Lady Drakkon?

She’d gotten something of an answer when her manicured fingers wrapped around the Black Sentry’s balls and gave a ‘friendly’ but authoritative squeeze.

He’d cried and wept and screamed something about a…trinket. And something about that loony territorial mutt. Then Adam had passed out in a puddle of sweat, piss, and cum to her growing frustration.

Quietly, she moved up the stone risers, her ears straining for any noise coming from above. The notes of a song echoed faintly to her ears, the delicate, yet yearning notes of ‘Swan Lake’. Reaching the shadowy entrance to the outer chamber, Scorpina’s bare feet made the barest of whispers on the emerald green rugs as she moved closer to the sitting area.

Reclining on a jacquard chaise lounge, Lord Drakkon was completely nude, the dancing flames from the fireplace highlighting his broad chest and toned abdomen. Powerful thighs were spread languidly, a thick, prominent erection dripping a clear fluid of anticipation.

He was watching something like a feline would watch a beautiful songbird hopping along the ground, waiting to pounce, to bite…

As she watched, Scorpina realized there was someone else in the room, their graceful body poised near the fireplace, back to her. Shiny black ribbon circled their ankles, feet standing en pointe in satin ballet shoes. Sheer dancer’s stockings covered the woman’s legs, a flowing black tulle spilling down from her waist. Diamonds dripped down the open back of the leotard, glittering like stars in the night sky as she moved.

A thick head of ebony ringlets brushed the ballerina’s shoulders, like an old pin-up movie star.

Drakkon was riveted by the woman’s graceful poses as she moved to the music, teasingly coming closer and closer as she leapt and twirled, the muscles of her legs and back bunching under…scarred skin??

Scorpina frowned.

“You excite me beyond reason, Trinket,” the tyrant groaned, a hand starting to reach for his shaft then resisting the urge. “How could you believe my head could be turned by another?”

Was this ‘Trinket’ Lady Drakkon?

Why didn’t Adam and Skull just SAY that? And what did that nutty mutt Red have to do with her?

Speaking of that spooky bastard, where was he? He clung to Drakkon like a second skin whenever he was in the same room.

The ballerina glided on pointed toe to where the evil Ranger lay. He reached for her with his large hands pulling her astride his waist to grind his cock between her silky thighs. Trinket rained kisses over his stubbly cheeks leaving behind bright red lipstick.

Scorpina observed that the dancer was rather tall and muscled but given the rigors of her chosen dance she would have to be strong.

It was when Trinket arched her back, allowing her lover to rove his lips down her neck and chest, that she caught sight of the gold collar and the facial hair.

Trinket was Red…

Drakkon was fucking Red…

Red was in essence ‘Lady Drakkon’…

Well, Scorpina wasn’t one to kink shame; she could play nasty with the best of them. This ‘Trinket’ roleplay wasn’t about to throw her off her game. It only meant that she needed to not only win over Lord Drakkon, but also that crazy canine.

‘He might believe he’s a dog, but a man’s a man…’ she erroneously told herself…still not getting the big picture. ‘I can play games too.’

And when the tyrant flipped his beautiful ballerina to his back, shoving the tulle aside and tearing the silky bodysuit to mount his lover, Scorpina made her move. Both Drakkon and Red were so blissed out…and inebriated on some exotic line of coke…that they didn’t initially register her appearance.

Until she lowered her wet, swollen cunt over ‘Trinket’s’ mouth, her own pressing harshly against Lord Drakkon’s did the pair realize they weren’t alone. Red was too stunned at first to even think about swatting at the intruder or biting her or…anything. Finally, he managed to emit several muffled shrieks of outrage and garbled threats as the bitch continued to ride his fucking face!

He’d never even entertained the idea of pleasuring a woman, though the subject certainly came up in his ‘research’.

Drakkon must have been stunned as well because he also didn’t speak or move for several moments, pausing mid-thrust in a way that aggravated ‘Trinket’ greatly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he finally demanded, Red’s incensed squalling continuing to float up from between her legs.

“You two looked like you were having fun,” she pouted, jutting out her lower lip but still rocking her hips over the ballerina’s mouth, so close to cumming again that she physically couldn’t stop.

Red seemed to sense it as well, feeling the rush of heat and the quivering of her muscles.

“Don’t you DARE!” he gasped angrily.

But it was too late.

The only reason she didn’t immediately lose her head was because Drakkon needed the information she possessed. It took all his self-control not to make an example out of her…

Hell, she’d just defiled his darling’s luscious mouth!

“Well, my dear…this is a PRIVATE party!”

[skyland2703]

Quietly just gonna slip a couple of these moodboard prompts in just for the fun of it:

Coinless Stone Canyon Trio~

HHHHH ALL I KNOW IS PAIIIINNNNNN—

[ranger-ribbons]

Telling each other "I'm here" + "Why haven't you been eating?" & World of the Coinless; post-Drakkon, Adam & Skull

Sure sure sure! This is more one-sided than each other, I'm sorry about that.

~

Adam's eyes flicker open to face another day. He groans, twisting to lay on his back and stare up at the ceiling. Rocky and Aisha won't be back for a few days, helping with relief efforts in the Coinless and Adam's just so tired. He sits up with a long sigh and looks around, checking his watch to see it's almost five o'clock in the afternoon. He's positive he didn't use to do this. Drakkon had required that his Sentinals be up at 7, drills at 8, and positions at 9. No breaks, no hesitation, no mistakes.

Adam doesn't know what to do with himself now that Drakkon is gone and he's got more freedom.

A loud knock echoes through the house, followed by the door opening. "Park!" shouts a familiar voice. "Let's go, we got things to do! Get breakfast and let's get out there." A pause, then Skull continues, "And don't try to bullshit me! I know you haven't been eating! Why haven't you been eating?"

Adam groans and falls back onto the bed, dragging the pillow over his head.

~~~

Skull hands Adam another juice box and drains the last of his water in one long gulp. They've been out here for three hours, the sun's beginning to set. Slowly, it sinks down behind the trees. Adam watches it go and wishes, not for the first time, that he knew what he was doing, what he could do with his life now that it didn't revolve around Drakkon and drills and missions against the Coinless and survival-

"Hey."

Adam jolts as something- the back of a hand?- hits his shoulder. He turns, finds Skull watching him intently. "Get out of your head and focus, Park. You're here to watch a sunset and talk. So, watch the sunset and talk." Skull twists open another bottle- some kind of exotic drink, Adam thinks when he sees the color- and takes a swig. "Or don't," he continues. "You don't have to talk to me about shit if you don't want to. Just." Skull sighs, meeting Adam's eyes with weary eyes. "I'm here, okay?" he asks. "So, don't bottle shit up when you can talk to me about whatever."

Adam thinks about that. It would make sense to talk to Skull, who knows what it was like under Drakkon's thumb. Adam could talk to Skull, who was a Sentry like him, Red instead of Black but still the same job.

Adam could. He could talk to Skull. He could talk ad talk and they could take comfort in the fact that they're still alive. They're still here. They survived the war, didn't they?

Adam slowly leans against Skull, eyes watering. "I'm here, too," he says softly. "I'm here, too."

Skull smiles. The sun sets and with the darkness comes the knowledge that Adam, while still hurting, is not alone. He doesn't know what to do with his life and he has way too much time on his hands, but he's not alone in that.

"I'm not okay," Adam says softly.

"Okay," Skull replies. "Let's talk."

~

@augment-techs

[ajgrey9647]

lol Can totally see Skull here!

@augment-techs

Whumper, the tall one: They beat my ass.

Caretaker: Who?

Whumpee, the short one, coming in covered in blood: Me.

[lordkingsmith]

Snippets of a coinlessverse Ollie/Jack fic I probably won’t write further than this, and this is probably a part one. The scenes trapped in my head rent free.

But @augment-techs @skyland2703 enjoy my brainrot with me XD

When Ollie had been captured with Aiyon, he’d assumed that would be it. He’d be tortured, degraded and if he was lucky allowed to just starve to death and expire with some dignity. Aiyon had gone by infection after they’d both been beaten to hell and back for information, so Ollie wasn’t too worried about that likelihood.

Even when Lord Drakkon graced Ollie and Aiyon’s cell, Ollie was still not worried about what was going to happen. Even if he assumed he was too low on the ladder of the Coinless for Drakkon to bother with him personally-stranger things had happened. Maybe he’d be made an example of. Annoying, but at least he’d be dead.

Instead Drakkon crouched to where he was sitting, curled in the corner as far away from the now rotting corpse of his ex as he could. The Dictator’s smile was chilling. Chipper to the point of mania. A gloved hand grabbed his face, forcing his head into different angles as his hands partially came up and clenched, trying not to resist. “You’re right.” He said to the two sentries filing in behind him. “He’s the right look. Dirty, but that’s fixable.” Ollie stared at him, confused now.

“Congratulations” Drakkon said gleefully. “On your new career and promotion! Do your empire proud” Ollie tried to bite him and his face was let go before he was slapped, the force sending him into the dirty floor. “Luckily for you, that biting habit is one of the reasons I need you.”

Ollie stared, cheek stinging like hell and felt an impending sense of doom. “Park, Skullovitch. Get him cleaned up. Tend to his wounds and make sure he actually looks like he’s eaten by the time they arrive. We only have three weeks.”

He turned his attention back to Ollie, eyes cold. “I’m going to make an offer you’re not going to be able to refuse.” Drakkon said. “And then I’m going to tell you what you’re going to do to earn it. And then you’re going with my head sentries to do what I tell you. Do you understand?”

Grid damn him, Ollie nodded.

-*-

Sitting in the room full of his mind controlled friends was, frankly, exhausting. Pretending this was fine, and he wasn’t bothered, and he was just as insane as they’d gone actually, was draining. Generally he could get away with letting the other four do their thing and be quiet and in the background; this had always been the group dynamic. It just got complicated when he had to balance that with also being his mother’s right hand beside Cygnus.

Night Swan, with the chosen one and his friends in tow, had made quick work of the other Danciverses. Corrupting or killing or simply capturing the rulers of each as she saw fit. She kept Traveler in her chambers, and Si’ha her personal guard, a swan soldier and unresponsive of the man who still loved her. She wouldn’t hesitate to kill herself on the orders of her mistress and neither would their son, and for that Traveler did what Night Swan told him.

Once Night Swan became self titled empress of the danciverses she decided perhaps it was time to turn her attention back to her birth reality. Unfortunately for her, someone else had already conquered it. Jack and Wanderlust had gone through some weeks ago with an unusually reserved Sara.

Drakkon was not someone even a mind controlled Sara wanted to deal with. Which was concerning to Jack, for a variety of reasons. Sara talked about him the same way she had before the corruption had twisted her. He was the only part of her past she held with the same fear and caution as before.

Making contact had been tense, to say the least. First was the initial meeting, then Night Swan inviting Drakkon and a few of his inner circle to Cygnus City. It’d sparked appearances of the Spectronizers, which had unfortunately led to the rumor Jack was head over heels for Adam Park.

To Jack’s utter chagrin Adam had a knack for almost discovering Jack’s involvement with the Spectronizers and the the rebellion against his own mother. The only way he could get Adam from realizing anything was borderline sexual harassment. However, it seemed to be what everyone expected, Night Swan included for intimidation tactics, so nobody thought twice.

Or so he’d hoped.

Being invited to the earth castle of Drakkon in his city for an extended stay had hit him like a suckerpunch. Despite his protests, he and Cygnus and Brezziana had been volunteered for an extended stay while Drakkon sent over three of his own. The night of their arrival had been a party, and thankfully he’d been surrounded by his friends during the depravity. Temporarily evil or not, having a buffer between himself and the activities of Drakkon’s court. He didn’t like drinking, or drugs. He didn’t like using someone’s body for his own amusement, sexual or otherwise.

He could, however, sit in the room while the other four made fun of it and commented on the human origami and food. Watching, nodding along, quietly looking for an excuse to leave without being rude. They’d been forced to dance for Night Swan and Drakkon when he’d come to their reality. Dancing the whole night until their feet bled and even Wanderlust was starting to hallucinate from fatigue. Jack wasn’t blind to the similarities, even while his friends couldn’t comment. He just braced himself waiting for it to be done.

The night of the first time he’d had to distract Adam Park by attempting to kiss him, he’d had a rare moment with Traveler. Traveler had been pulled out of Night Swan’s rooms for the time being. He looked completely haggard, and Jack had tried to offer him a drink. Might as well be completely black out to deal with the night. They watched Wanderlust, Mihaly, Sara, and Brezziana dance. “You should be there, protecting him.”

“I am.” He muttered. “I’m always protecting him.” He was here wasn’t he? Instead of leading the resistance in person and not with a pseudonym and secrecy? He was here, keeping Wanderlust safe, and alive and away from Night Swan. He was always making sure Wanderlust was the happy one in the situation. But no that wasn’t enough was it? It never was. “I talked her out of poles” he hissed, just to watch Traveler grimace. “I’m trying. Or do you want me brainwashed too? Then who’d help them? You?”

He shoved the drink into his father’s hand and walked away, suddenly needing to cool off. He was handling it. It wasn’t going the way he wanted but he was handling it. There was a problem with a mysterious “Coach Sunset” leading the rebellion, orange and red and dancing hope and chaos into the overrun danciverses.

And okay maybe that wasn’t the best way to do it; but he was working on it. He was! He was doing the best he knew how. Facing Night Swan head on never worked. Subterfuge had to be the way they could defeat his own mother.

Which had led to seeing one of the Spectronizers in Swan Tower conversing with Cygnus with a small drive of information, Adam almost running into the pink, and Jack throwing him against the wall so he didn’t see the two being suspicious. Stuttering out a flirtation and then pretending he was drunk and walking away. Too bad for him it kept happening.

As well as the interesting point of several of Drakkon’s army were now Swan Soldiers, due to badly executed espionage. This had led to them agreeing to a shaky sort of truce, and now here they all were. At this creepy party welcoming Jack Rose as a political hostage.

“C’mon, let’s see your room.” Wanderlust said finally, and Jack nodded gratefully. “This is just getting boring.” Yellow swan eyes swept over the party, glancing over Jack among the throng, uncaring and unimpressed. Jack wanted to shake his little brother. It wouldn’t fix the spell problem but it’d make him feel better.

They went as a group, walking among the mostly empty halls. Sara swung her arms around Jack’s neck, giggling. “Are you ever impressed by anything?”

“The city is impressive” he offered her, hands fisted into his suit pockets. “Maybe I’ll find more to be impressed by the longer I’m here.” She pouted before pinching his cheek and waggling his face back and forth. “Prude. You liked some of Drakkon’s sentries. None of that impressed you huh.”

“I-” he cleared his throat. “They didn’t strike me as having fun? I’d rather be in a place where everyone is having a good time. But” he rolled his eyes. “Yes the naked bodies looked nice, get off now.”

She did, giggling meanly when he rubbed his stinging cheek. He liked her better when she wasn’t…a little witch. Brezziana pointed at their rooms, happily located near each other. And the two sentries next to the doors. Jack groaned low in his throat when his took his helmet off.

Mihaly laughed. “A boy toy closer to your age!” They told him as he could only smile weakly at them, and the guard. His was a red sentry who could almost be Adam’s son, and Brezziana’s was a yellow, a young woman. He could scream.

“Lord Drakkon wishes to show his hospitality” the yellow said. “We’re here as your guards, guides, and whatever else you could need.” Said the young woman. “I’m Rose”

“And what’s your name?” Wander asked after a long moment, smiling wolfishly at the red. The man’s eyes narrowed and Wanderlust laughed. “Oh you’ve got a spicy one Jack!”

He lunged, forcing the red to step back. “Oh how adorable. He’s trembling.” Jack pushed past Wanderlust and the others with a sigh.

“What’s your name?” He asked quietly.

“Ollie. Ollie Akana.” Jack nodded. “Lord Drakkon wanted to make sure no-one here could want for anything.” Jack patted Ollie’s head.

“I’m going to bed” he said, reaching past the sentry. “Alone. I’ll see you all in the morning.”

Brezziana snickered. “What the younger model not doing it for you?”

“I just don’t like having sex after parties” he decided on before opening the door and slipping inside. He eyed Ollie watching him almost helplessly, and at the other three looking at Ollie and Rose like they were steak. He gestured for Ollie to come in. “You can guard me better if you’re actually with me.” He decided. Sit by the windows, watch the door.”

When they were both safe inside Jack began undoing his feather capelet. “I know you’re here to spy on me.” He said with a shrug. “So ferry this back to your Lord. I really am sorry about Adam.” He grimaced. “That was incredibly inappropriate.”

“It happened six times!”

“I’ve decided I’m going to not drink anymore. It was a problem, but alcohol is currently off the table. So no more problem.” Jack said after a moment of blanking. “Now. Good night, sentry Akana.” He toed off his shoes and fell face first into the bed, nearly immediately out to the world.

-*-

“Ollie, do you even…like men?” Jack asked, half naked and watching Ollie intensely. Ollie swallowed wrong in quick succession, processing the question and the twining tattoos along Jack’s arms and shoulders. Next thing he knew Jack’s chest was to his back and his fists were wedged under Ollie’s ribs. It didn’t really help. Eventually the sandwich piece dislodged from Ollie’s throat and Jack went from heimleck to hug, wrapping his arms around Ollie’s waist and burying his face in Ollie’s neck as Ollie gasped for air. Olly elbowed him in the stomach when he was able.

“You almost kill me with your question and then just hug me half naked, huh?”

Jack let go, though reluctantly. “It’s not-I’m just glad I didn’t kill you on accident.”

Ollie turned to him, slowly. “I don’t think my preferences matter, here.”

Jack scowled and folded his arms. “They do to me. And I want to know how to treat you. Friend or…” he trailed off, shook his head and tried to walk past Ollie. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry.” Ollie grabbed Jack around his waist, the ensuing small struggle sending them both tumbling onto the bed. Jack pinned under Ollie, and Ollie staring intently down at him.

“Could always kiss me” Ollie said. “See if either of us like it.” Jack grabbed the helmet off the nightstand and nearly slammed it onto Ollie’s head. Jack patted the helmet like he would Ollie’s cheek as he slid away from the arms.

“Poor thing” he murmured. “Shaking like a leaf” Jack snatched his shirt off the end of the bed and looked at Ollie still standing there, feeling shellshocked and stupid.

“I don’t know.” Ollie said. “What I like. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Ollie Akana” Jack was business like as he began sliding into his suit jacket. “You’re here because your boss wants you to get every secret they can wring out of me. Unfortunately for you I was raised by my mother. You think seduction isn’t something she did? She chose partners based on what they could give her.”

Jack sighed. “So what did Drakkon promise you for fucking me. That’s more important to me.” Ollie felt his cheeks go blazing hot.

“Nothing!” He snapped. “Why do you even care.” Jack shrugged.

“If it’s nothing I guess I don’t. C’mon, I want to see more of the city. Show me around.”

Ollie stared at Jack, who stared at him coolly back before nodding curtly. “Yes, sir.”

-*-

Jack kept the spectronizer orange helmet on as Ollie and the other sentries stared at him, along with the duplicate he’d made before slipping out for the night. Thank the flow, too. He had the urge to grab his little sentry, but saluted them and took off running instead. He had a bag full of medicine pulled directly from Drakkon’s personal med wing, and he knew exactly where to take them.

The only song he could think of was in the hall of the mountain king as thousands of sentries took off behind him. Jack bounced off walls, spun in dance steps and kick flips while protecting the precious goods he’d nicked. Once the Coinless and the Dancers had met, there’d been a synchronized effort to help each other. And ‘Coach Sunset’ was in the perfect place to aid both groups. Orange streaked just ahead of a horde of yellow, red and black. Sunset indeed.

He was close to one of the small side doors to one of the many gardens when a hand pulled him into a small alcove. The helmets were the only things keeping Jack and Ollie from being nose to nose. “Who are you?”

“Spectronizer Orange”

“Got balls, stealing from in the castle itself. What makes you think I shouldn’t go get Drakkon?”

Jack was speechless and he clutched the bag tighter. “There are sick people in the Coinless. Even you-”

“This is for the Coinless?” Jack nodded. Ollie sighed. “Follow me, orange.”

There was a small hole in an evidentially forgotten courtyard. Jack stared at it, and looked back to Ollie.

“Me and-a friend. Used it to get in for medicine.” Ollie said. “He died. I never told them how, and it looks like they never figured it out.”

“When was this? How are you here? Is there anyone I can tell you’re alright?”

Ollie shook his head. “Drakkon offered something I couldn’t refuse. It was a little before that prince and his friends showed up from the dance world” a snort. “And no. Aiyon was the last person who’d care. Plus. I’m sort of a traitor so.”

Jack reached out to Ollie, thought better of it, and used the escape offered. Though he made himself stop and turned back. “Jack Rose…the prince…he works with us.” He said, hoping this information wouldn’t be somehow ferried to Drakkon. “He’s how I got in. You can help us by helping him.” And then he was gone, leaving Ollie in the courtyard.

When he snuck back in as Jack, Ollie was dozing by the window. Jack brushed hair from his face before flinging himself onto the bed, back to Ollie.

Ball was in his court, as was the very real possibility Jack had somehow gotten into a love triangle with himself. He wouldn’t know any of it till he came to it, and with nothing else he could do, he fell asleep.

[bombseel]

He wants her to own him... 😳

[mateushonrado]

Status Post #7291: Boom Studios Black Rangers.

Row 1: Jamie Gilmore / Black Ranger [MMPR 1969], Zack Taylor / Black Ranger [MMPR Boom-GGPR] and Zack Taylor / All-New Black Ranger [MMPR: Pink]

Row 2: Adam Park / Black Ranger [MMPR: Pink] and Zack Taylor / Black Ranger [Coinless]

Row 3: Phantom Ranger [Coinless], Doggie Cruger / SPD Shadow Ranger [MMPR: Shattered Grid] and Mike Corbett / Magna Defender [MMPR: Shattered Grid-Beyond the Grid]

Row 4: Billy Cranston / Black Ranger [GGPR] and Gent / Supersonic Black [MMPR - Psychotic]

[augment-techs]

Character Voice Tag Game

Thanks for tagging me, @ajgrey9647 This is what I assume is the source of the game, for the others to be tagged:

Rules: Rewrite the line of dialogue from the person who tagged you into the voice of your Fandom Characters/OC’s! (You can include a short beat of action to help establish character if you want.) Pass on the tag with a new line of dialogue.

Bulk *third in command of the Coinless after Zack and Trini, looks halfway between absolute fear and the kind of sorrowful acceptance that has come with the new world order*: You should not be here. There was no warning-- Adam *not of the Coinless, part of Drakkon's army out of necessity but not wanting to be; in grungy civilian clothes, with a look of bitchiness that usually does not grace his features*: I'm not here for a friendly chat and get together, I'm here because Skullovitch could not make it. He won't be back from space for a good month, maybe more, and I'm perfectly aware that your lot don't appreciate radio silence without getting antsy. Or, at least the selfish bitch doesn't. Bulk: Don't talk about Trini like-- Adam: After the shit she puts Eugene through on the regular because she's apparently incapable of being happy with what he can provide if he can't get Jason out of an impenetrable fortress in the mouth of hell, I'll talk about the manipulative slit however I want.

Bulk *grinding his teeth but unwilling to rebuke the truth of Trini's bad behavior towards his bestfriend*: Fine. Am I to assume that this is Drakkon's version of punishing Skull for showing him up over the Hartunian attack? Adam: Yep. Bulk: Terrific. So no warnings, no food, no medicine, no being let out of friendly fire for the month? Adam: Not...exactly. Most of the rest of our Division are not nearly as stupid as Drakkon thinks we are, and are willing to be...half-blind, half-deaf, half-forgetful for as long as a couple of weeks. If you can hold out asking for things for fifteen days, I can secure you at least enough goodwill from the others to provide enough to keep you afloat.

Bulk: I...I don't think Zack would be willing to risk letting you in on our private communications. You understand that Eugene isn't a risk and we can trust him, but not even Aisha and Rocky can vouch for you since The Last Battle. I'm sure you mean well, but I just...I can't see anyone trusting you.

Adam *all demonic smile and a light in the eyes that could almost be considered jade or aurora ice; a very disconcerting flavor against the rich brown that was almost black*: I don't think you understand. You have no choice. Me and mine have no love lost for Drakkon, and certainly not from your Coinless given that the bastard just loves dumping us into zones your lot are more than happy to shoot first and ask questions never within. But if more of you died than was necessary, it would turn Jason into a sloppy, mouthy, whining little princess at Drakkon's ear in their shared bed; which, in case you haven't figured out by now, would end up getting Eugene dumped on. I am not going to allow his suffering even more for your hubris, thank you very much.

Tagging: @estel-eruantien @skyland2703 @lordkingsmith @ranger-ribbons @koragg1

Your line: never, ever holding hands Bonus: someone come home with me

Tagged by @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling

My line: What is wrong with you?

Finn: "Why would you say that?"

Rose: "What the FUCK"

Jak: "If you ever do something like that again, I swear to the 12 gods I will kill you"

Pherun: *starts crying* (Jak kills you after)

Silas: "Wh-what?"

Lyra: "You need Therapy"

Taka: "Well... uh... that was uncalled for... could we... not? Please?"

Khaz: "I'll give you a ten minute head start."

@ajgrey9647 @agirlandherquill @smudged-red-ink and anyone else who wants to join in :]

Your Line is: "There's only one way to get out of here"

Bonus Line: "You need me"

[augment-techs]

POV for the no excuses writing asks!

There was a dried sheet of vomit all across the bed and Adam could smell the reek of opium poorly covered up with too much vanilla extract cooked far too long in the little mini-oven that miraculously still worked in the little base the Coinless held. The half-dozed, half out of his mind grin across Billy's face did not make anything better in the least and Adam was sorely tempted to just drop the bin he'd carried along that morning and walk out to find a pillow on the ratty sofa in the 'lounge' area, scream into it, and then go and tell Trini to fix the problem for once. Or at the very least, find a bucket of water (maybe the one that held the leak constantly dripping down from the ceiling courtesy of the busted pipe runoff from the underground river the new empire had converted in an effort to save the half of Angel Grove that was still standing) and dump it over the sorry excuse of a former Blue Ranger. But. Adam glanced at the calendar that had been pinned to the wall with a knife for about a week, the big, ugly circle of calligraphy set ink pointing out the day's date the occupied. Then he looked down at Billy's right hand, clutching something to his chest like a lifeline; totally blanked out as he was, uncomfortable as that must have been.

He had to maneuver and be careful of the vomit surrounding and upon the man, but he managed to get his fingers to let go of the object he held. An old photograph, tear stained and at least two decades old by that point. Two little kids playing around; one blond, one black as ebony. Both blue eyed and happy. "Ah."

[augment-techs]

Jason (in a sleek red outfit not terribly unlike members of court in China or Japan at the turn of the eighteenth century, staring out into the courtyard of Drakkon's palace, overrun with alien war ships and downed sentries and foreign warriors running amuck while also trying to get into the fortified walls to seek an audience with Drakkon, despite the tyrant being off world to deal with another issue with the Interplanetary Defense): There's no place to hide, the walls won't hold, and I can't imagine what the Coinless are going through right now...

Adam (trying not to sound bored, as if this was something that hadn't happened at least four times already since Drakkon began his career as an eager young upstart amongst intergalactic tyrants and empires): Hiding was never an option, and it would be a fool's jest to try and run. You're forgetting that humans have quite a few more tricks up their sleeves than just bluster and cowardice and self-interest.

Jason: Drakkon--

Adam (scrunching his nose in distaste but still smiling not unlike a sly cat): Is not available at the moment to punish me for that comment or deny the truth of it. Nor First Division, or Second, or the rest. There is only the lot of us sad and forgotten Eights that go utterly unnoticed in the grand scheme of things. And what a boon that will be by the time this is done!

Jason: ...I don't understand.

Adam: You don't have to. You just need to continue to sit on the throne and pretend to know what you're doing, as if you you've always been in command of this sorry situation you've been thrown into by the universe and its funny sense of humor and let my Captain and my comrades do our jobs.

Jason (finally allowing himself to look somewhere between afraid and justified in his anger at this predicament): You're not warriors, though! You're not fighters or techs or powerful in any way! The meager amount of Power you get for your suits doesn't even hold a candle to what is necessary to fight off even one band of Hartunians, let alone the entire envoy they've brought along to take over. How can I be expected to act like nothing's wrong when I've seen what Eighth Division does and none of it is something that can be used to defend against a full scale world invasion?!

Adam (taking a deep breath in pantomime, waving for Jason to do much the same before setting a hand on his shoulder like the man was still that teenager who got rattled to his care at facing monsters sent by Rita while still having a curfew set by his parents): See, Jason, that's where you're wrong. We have everything we need; not to defend against an invasion, but to stop it from happening in the first place. It is not an invasion yet, merely a show of force from one blustering egomaniac towards the palace of another that isn't even here right now. The King of Hartunia will come down in less that an hour from his ship, probably with his Queen--who hates him, too, I should add--to seek an audience with who they think is Drakkon or at least the next best thing; you, the one he's courting. Which, to an asshole like that, is just as good as a Queen or Regent. All you have to do is be polite and a little pompous and keep the king talking.

Jason (still wanting to argue, still so very out of his depth and afraid and wishing more than ever that he had his coin instead of a collar around his neck, or golden bracelets he couldn't take off; rubbing his face to feel at the smooth skin still fresh from a shave he'd had before the first explosion went off and he was lucky Adam had nerves of steel and didn't cut into his jaw): And what will you and your Captain and Eighth Division be doing?

Adam (giving an even wider, sneaky grin, before turning around like a showman, arms stretched out and away from him as he walked off to the wing of the throne room with the little old fashioned strings and buttons and bells that lead to other places that only Eighth Division ever seemed to be aware of, given that they were always the ones fulfilling the needs of Drakkon and everyone else, whether they knew it or not): Everything else. Do not worry~

Tagged by: @ajgrey9647

Tagging: @lordkingsmith @skyland2703 @madhare0512 @estel-eruantien and anyone else who might like to try.

Your phrase is: Oh please, please, please, please.

Bonus phrase: Huh. That actually felt...good.

Character voice tag game

Line provided by @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling: "We have to Go"

(With characters from TCOT and I'll reblog with J&R Side WIP)

Kasi: Please, go.

Xhaazi (Shady): Let's get out of here!

Chrin: Come on, let's go!

Sokuna: We can't stay here!

Mouse: Can we leave yet?

Marril: Hurry up.

Viasaki: *just picks you up and leaves*

Kila: If you spend another second staring at that wall I will Feed you to the wolves

Shyre: Please, we need to leave, now.

(I will be doing these for a while because I am now obsessed)

@ajgrey9647 @smudged-red-ink @clever-naming-convention and anyone who wants to, your phrase is: "I can't do this anymore"

[skyland2703]

Write a scene without any dialogue + World of the Coinless/Pre-Shattered Grid; Sentry Adam & Sentry Skull~

Ah, writing without dialogue. A special treat for me, indeed.

It was a little cardboard carton. It was probably all that Skull had managed to save, and to bring along, when he'd become a Red Sentry. That box had always intrigued Adam, because neither he, nor any other sentry of the entire coinless ranks had ever had a chance to peek into it.

It wasn't that nobody cared for the contents of the box, everyone was curious. But there was something about it, a strange aura of it, and the way Skull was around it, that made everyone respect his privacy, and not go snooping around. Adam imagined it was probably old picture frames, knick knacks from their school days, or maybe something a little more precious than that.

Skull was usually seen sitting with that box after an especially hard day, when things didn't feel all that right; days when Drakkon's assignments to him involved murders of innocents, or reimbursements of loans from people who had way too little money to pay back the principle amount, let alone the interest. Sentries sometimes doubled as debt recovery agents, and since the loans from Drakkon's treasury came at a forty percent interest rate, (which was also less, considering the way Drakkon's greed ran his finances, and something that was there as a reason of Finster arguing with him that nobody would take the loans if he kept it above 50%, no matter how necessary—) it was especially painful, and Skull more or less landed up with the job once in every few weeks. It was extra horrible than the others, such as manning the granaries or guarding the Bastard's royal chambers, as it involved humiliation and harassment of those who were a little too beneath them.

And Skull didn't have the heart for it.

He was especially depressed when he came back from events like this, and Adam, who was usually paired off with Skull on duties like this, saw him taking a shower— which often involved some shenanigans with Adam himself, for some stress relief— and then settling onto the bed in the railway station issue quality blankets, which barely protected any cold at all, and pull up the little cardboard box from under his bed, and turn off the lights.

One day, though, he decided to ask about it. As they settled onto their beds after a relatively less stressful day, Adam on his bunk across a narrow strip of floor from Skull's, and Skull nestled into his blankets, and turned towards Adam, a small melancholy smile on his face. Adam flashed him a big grin, and wondered if he should ask, if that were the right moment to ask such a thing. And seeing that Skull didn't look as haunted today, as he didn't even need to bring up his little box of memories, Adam raised his eyebrows, and wordlessly, pointed towards under Skull's bed. Skull looked down, his eyes following to where Adam's fingers were pointed to, and he realised what the Black Sentry meant.

Skull sat up, tossed his blankets to a side— this was definitely a good day to ask about this— and gestured for Adam to come over, to his bed.

Adam followed, still grinning at his success, and mentally telling his curiosity that it was about to be satisfied. He climbed onto Skull's bed, and sat in front of him, as Skull dragged the little box out. It had, in a terrible handwriting, with a sharpie that had stopped running by the end of it, written "Memories. DO NOT OPEN". Adam chuckled to himself, realising he, and the other sentries, was right, the box did indeed contain mementos from Skull's life.

Skull opened it, and placed it in front of Adam, as if urging him to look at it, and figure out what it contained. Adam dipped a hand in, and came up with a few... were those fairy lights? Little fairy lights, all white and golden. He wondered if Skull would ever have a room of his own, he'd put them up, like a little teenage boy's room. There were posters in there, old bands, My Chemical Romance, Green Day, Lana Del Ray, people he didn't particularly recognise.

Then he dug further, and saw a little snow globe, with a white bearded wizard trapped in it. He eyed it curiously, and Skull, understanding what he was going for, picked it up, and turned it around in his hand, watching Adam's stunned, and childlike reaction to the glitter that, now disturbed, was falling over and around the wizard like snowy magic.

Then there was a little bandana, which Adam felt like belonged to Bulk... it wasn't one that Skull regularly wore himself, it was violet with black stripes, and he felt he'd seen Bulk wearing it a little too many times when they had been in school. There were old polaroid pictures— Kimberly Hart, the Ranger Slayer had had a polaroid camera, back in the day, if he remembered correctly. There were polaroids of Skull and Bulk, and one of Skull in a ridiculous costume that made Adam chuckle slightly. Kimberly used to take pictures of everyone from her camera, and present them to them on their birthdays, it was an adorable tradition, and made for memories that people, including Skull, cherished to this date.

Then there was a little toy robot sitting in one corner of the box, and Adam picked it up. He watched Skull's eyes flick onto the robot, and a sadness filled them immediately. Adam decided it wasn't his place to touch that, and he was just about to put it back in the box, when Skull's hand stopped his, holding the robot in both of their hands, and the Red Sentry's scarred fingers gently turned it over, and under its feet, Adam saw a little sticker sticking in, that read "William Cranston". That made sense.... Billy... that robot had belonged to Billy... but what was it doing with Skull?

He placed the robot respectfully back into the box, and pulled up what looked like a little toy sword— there were two of them, plastic, about the size of his forearm. There were also various other little things, like pirate eye-patches, more bandanas (apparently, they were a thing Skull liked to collect) a bunch of ragged clothes... and a broken spectacle frame.

The spectacle frame was so small. As if it belonged to an eight year old, and it was blue... Adam couldn't imagine who it belonged to, but a part of him said it was the same child to whom the broken robot had belonged to. A part of Adam told him this was the reason why Skull looked at these things when he was sad... he had some memories he liked to relive, and yet, the way the box said 'DO NOT OPEN', there were memories that he didn't want to come to terms with, and were tucked away in the bottom of the box.

The last thing Adam noticed before closing the flaps of the box was an old, torn and forlorn photograph of two six year old boys, one with fluffy black hair, and one with blonde ones. They were both tiny, a little smaller for their ages, and the blonde one wore the exact same spectacles he'd just seen in his hands a few minutes ago. They were both dressed up as pirates, and that one photograph had the words "Skull and Bones" scribbled on it in a child's wobbly handwriting.

Adam understood everything, with that one.

He looked up at Skull, who was smiling at him, reading every expression of Adam's as he dove through Skull's treasure chest. Adam heaved a sigh, and then reached around his own neck, pulling out a little charm he always wore with himself, as a thank you, and as a 'remember me too, would ya?' and handing it to Skull, no words said, but he looked down towards the box, and implied what he had meant.

Skull smiled gratefully, and placing everything back in the box, he gently rested the charm on top of the little toy robot, and tilted his head, and laid back in bed.

That was another memory he'd like to cherish.

[ranger-ribbons]

"Why haven't you been eating?" & "When's the last time you slept?" + World of the Coinless Sentry Adam & Skull~

So, forgive me for any mischaracterizations, I know zip-zero-nada about these versions of these characters. Also, apologies for how short it is. Here we go!

~

Adam throws his helmet down on his bed. It's been a long day and he just wants to shower and sleep. Well, not sleep. He knows damn well he won't be sleeping.

Adam gronas, letting his head hang back.

"When's the last time you slept?" asks a new voice from the bed.

Adam snaps to attention, turning on a dime and dropping into a fighting stance. His eyes adjust to what he's seeing and he relaxes. "Oh, it's you," he says.

Skull's eyes flick up and down Adam's body with such critism, Adam can almost see the cruel twist of lips Skull must've worn in highschool. "Yeah, it's me. When's the last time you slept, huh?" he asks again. "Or how about, why haven't you been eating?"

Adam makes a noise, looking down and away. He crosses his arms.

Skull scoffs. "Fine. Let's go." He stands.

Adam yelps as he's suddenly tugged off and away from his bedroom. "Hey," he snaps, twisting his wraist.

Skull moves his hand with Adam's twist. "Nope," he says. "Let's go, Park. We're going to get you some food."

"Skull," Adam protests.

Skull doesn't budge. "Take better care of yourself, idiot, or Drakkon's missions will kill you before you can get the glory of dying for him."

Adam goes to protest again, but then he hears unexpected warmth in Skull's voice. He sighs and lets Skull pull him on. "Alright," he murmurs.

~

@augment-techs

[augment-techs]

@skyland2703

[augment-techs]

The Coinless Universe. I would like to see a new team cobbled together from the veterans of the war on both sides facing what they assume to be Dark Specter amassing his hordes. I would, ideally, like to see them realize he is nothing more than a name and presence casting a shadow on the wall. I would like this team to include TJ Johnson, Kai Chen, and Kelsey Winslow picked from their Sentry duties after months working under Kim’s regime. I would like Rocky DeSantos, Aisha Campbell, and Kat Hillard recruited from the highest of Coinless ranks. Bulk would be the best person to take point, but as a bonus, it would be great for Jason to be called back into action by Kim so he can at least feel more useful than he would out in the wastes (which I still think was almost as much bullshit as Adam being killed in New Dawn, so there will also be retcon to suit myself). As it is, oddly, Jason (having cut that god-awful beard) is still excellent in a fight, but Bulk is the one the others really listen to; especially Rocky and TJ. The colors they wear would be assigned as so: Jason: Zeo Gold Bulk: Mighty Morphin Purple  TJ: Turbo Red Rocky: Zeo Red Kai: Turbo Blue Aisha: Turbo Yellow Kelsey: Zeo Yellow Kat: Turbo Pink There are some emotional highs and lows between Bulk and Jason--mostly because Jason wasn’t around in the Coinless long enough to realize Bulk was an incredibly good person--but it’s the Coinless/Sentry divide that seems to bother everyone. Save for Kat, because we all know what Pink is for on any team. Kim gives them Power from morphers Drakkon had stowed away in his palace while sending a B-Team to the planet Phaedos just in case things go downhill and they need to mount a rescue. Unsurprisingly, this team is mostly younger, composed of Trent Fernandez-Mercer and Kira Ford from the Coinless, Conner McKnight, Ethan James, Cassidy Cornell, Devin De Valle from the Sentries; with Adam Park and Skull taking the lead more for protection and experience than anything else. Adam keeps his Sentry Black and is given the Mastodon Power Coin temporarily, but Kim gives Skull the Mighty Morphin Orange Power Coin that was hidden right next to Bulk’s Purple (which were actually inside the remains of the Command Center; not a great reminder that Zordon had secrets). This lot are actually almost perfectly functional, if for no other reason than that when they land on planet Adam keeps the peace after they are attacked by lich, and when Dulcea comes out of the woodwork, she treats Skull with high respect as Orange is probably the rarest color to acclimate to with the Power and it didn’t take him any effort at all. This is all a very Batman+Robin dynamic because this piece can’t be a total downer. Also, for the record, before anything else, I must be clear that I headcanon the Ninjetti animals change as needed as directed by the Power. There will be no Frog, thank you very much.

If you could give any power rangers team a comic story, which team would you pick? And what kind of plot/conflict would you have them face?

[augment-techs]

OC in 15 (or less)

I was tagged by @ajgrey9647 to play this game. Thanks for the tag!

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Ahhhhhh-hah-hah-haaaaah.... This is a trick, because I don't really have a solid configuration of an actual original character. BUT, I decided to play because, incidentally, it works for Alternate Universe versions of characters I'm working on in fandom. So for this go around, I think I'll play up the version of Adam Park in the 'all our injuries rhyme' series I'm working on. Because he is NOT like the Adam Park of the Prime Universe and a bit more of the simple sentry in the Coinless Universe as we know it. This Adam has a bond with this AU's version of Skull that never would happen anywhere else. Second Green Adam Park:

"If I love you, I cook. Simple as that."

Looking directly at Trini, her terrified in the face of his solemn wrath, "Are you satisfied now?"

"I've gotten to the point that I could probably ride or deepthroat a baseball bat with no ill effect, yeah."

With soft eyes as Rocky and Aisha suddenly look ashamed of themselves, "My wife, child, and the whole of my family are dead. They know everything now."

"Exactly one person ever asked to leave 8th Division to be granted a promotion to Captain," a curl of the lip, amused without pleasure, "Because he thinks of this as a Career."

To Jason, not so coinless anymore, "I no more delight in wearing Green than you do in wearing White; but at least White didn't need purification through blood, just words. Bit of a theme with this little fucker."

With nostalgia, staring off into rain falling down at the top of the Command Center, "Leftover bread pancakes. Those and a loaf of oatmeal honey bread and a baked apple," inhales a drag of the blunt he nicked, "First time I actually wanted to suck a cock in a decade."

"And that is what forgiveness sounds like."

With deep, deep, deep sarcasm, complete with the hand signs, "Naaaaaaaaaaaaamaste."

"I'm okay on the floor."

And I think I will gently tag: @lordkingsmith @skyland2703 @koragg1 @estel-eruantien and wrapping right back around to @ajgrey9647 (I cheated, you can too. You can choose an OC or a favored character.)