#Lord Drakkon x Coinless Jason Scott

[augment-techs]

couple headcanon prompts: expressing love/bad date/soulmates and Tommy/Jason or Coinless Jason/Drakkon?

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm... Both. Both is Good.

Expressing Love:

Training together, performing weight challenges, running and running along the ocean from the first traces of morning light until they stop because one caused the other to laugh and trip or tumble over each other like bear cubs in a play fight wrestling match.

Sometimes it's with soft touches when the other isn't expecting in; after a bad battle, or a long fight, or a disagreement where neither of them were really right. Forehead touches and hugs from the back.

Bad Date:

They really have been fortunate not to have more than one--and that was mostly the result of placing an appointment at a really fancy restaurant and showing up after a torrential downpour had resulted in them both becoming sopping wet. The hostess wouldn't let them in when they started dripping water all over the lounge and then some assholes started slinging homophobic slurs their way in that tone and way that reminded Tommy of some shitty foster homes he'd been in.

They ended up gong back to Jason's place to change and just passing out in his bed together after drying off and wrangling some clean sleepwear out of his drawers that weren't too small from all the muscle that Jason could never seem to keep up with when buying clothes.

Soulmates:

One of the lovely rare soulmate types where an injury sustained by one is marked across the other in flowers or weeds. If the injury is like a broken bone or deep laceration that requires stitches, the flowers are permanent like tattoos. If the injury is a graze or a bruise or a nick, the weeds bloom and dry up. Keeping the buds in little mason jars and presenting them to the other soulmate on confirmation of the soul-bond is considered the height of romance.

Jason had a mason jar full of dandelions, daisies, thistles, ivy, and snowdrops that he handed to Tommy the second he saw a rosewood blossom tattoo along his shoulder in the same place Jason once had his dislocated. And Tommy actually cried until he's teleported to his home and back to give Jason the little tin he'd managed to hold onto in the group home; full of chicory and red sorrel.

Expressing Love:

Egregiously mocking pet names, aggressive fondling, pressing each other up against a wall at the first chance.

Ordering a literal feast in Jason's honor is sometimes something Drakkon will do, just because. But only after he's had Jason on a steady diet of too dry or too wet oatmeal and skim milk for two weeks; so Jason will actually eat the food like a starving animal instead of knocking off the table like a huffy cat.

Bad Date:

Could the entire time in which Jason was entombed inside the full-body prison while Drakkon cooed flirtations and lewd fantasies at him for a full year before getting bored and commissioning an entire wing of the palace to keep Jason before letting him out to perform head games and "proper courtship" qualify as a prolonged date?

Soulmates:

In a bit of insane irony, these two have the soul-tie in which one is unable to physically harm each other. Which makes for quite the party trick when Jason gets out of his prison cell and manages to knock out all the sentries coming for him and Drakkon can't do a thing about it except stalk him and remind Jason that he can still catch his cute little mouse.

Of course this sucks for Jason when he is caught and he can't kick, snap, or bite like he would be pleased to do. Especially when Drakkon pins him down to stick his tongue down his throat and make it pretty obvious from the line in his suit at the crotch that such activities are just a warm up.

(.....@ajgrey9647 was this you?)

[ajgrey9647]

The Quad Life

Honestly I don’t even know what this is. Its an AU of my already AU fan fiction. Inspired by a prompt for something else... so yeah here ya go:

Pulling his long, dark hair back into a ponytail, Tommy cleared his throat to get the others’ attention. His partner, Jason, reclined next to him on the couch, already focused on the solving the logistical problems that would surely arise on this new adventure. A thick notebook of lined paper was balanced on the White Ranger’s knee and a pencil dangled from his long fingers.

Raising his eyebrows, he glanced at the muscular, aloof man draped over the arms of an old recliner. His long hair brushed his shoulders on one side; the other was completely bald. Taking a long gulp of the large Mountain Dew at his elbow, he rolled his eyes.

“I’m listening. Can we get on with this?” he whined petulantly. “I don’t see why we need rules anyways.”

Another man lounging in the kitchen doorway, munching on a small bag of ruffled chips spoke up.

“That’s exactly why we need them. Things are different now,” the grey-haired man scolded.

Tommy nodded.

“That’s right. If we’re going to be serious about this, we have to have clear expectations. It can’t just be a messy free for all.”

“Well, I used to make rules all the time so I fail to see why Tommy gets to decide how this is going to be,” Drakkon continued.

The White Ranger shook his head in frustration.

“It’s not just me. We all decide what we will or will not agree to. When it comes to your body, Drakkon, then it’s strictly your rules. But sex isn’t the only area we have to come to an agreement on,” Tommy sighed.

Jason spoke up, sitting up from under his boyfriend’s arm.

“He’s right. We need to figure out the logistics first before we get into the spicy stuff. If we get busted, then none of that other stuff will matter,” he pointed out.

Drakkon took another big pull on his soda and groaned.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to be drinking that?” Red nodded at the beverage.

Hazel eyes narrowed and the tyrant scowled at his former pet.

“Someone’s enjoying their new freedom,” he snarked, flipping Red the finger.

Tommy rapped his pencil loudly on the end table, cutting into Drakkon’s insult.

“That’s the point. He is free now, but he’s choosing to be with us.”

Pointing the sharpened end of the writing utensil at the soda bottle, Tommy added.

“He’s right about the Mountain Dew by the way. You have a hard enough time calming the fuck down.”

Giving a dramatic sigh, Drakkon replaced the lid of his drink and waved his hand.

“Alright, lets move along with this conversation. I’ll just lay here and dehydrate.”

Jason stood and paced as he thought, a common tactic when he was strategizing. Tapping a finger to his chin, he mused to the assembled group.

“Well, we have a place of our own now. Thanks to the mysterious interested party who offered Tommy’s uncle a large amount of cash for this lake cabin,” he started.

Drakkon now waved his hand like a prom queen.

“You’re welcome!”

Jason ignored him and continued down the list of possible issues that could come up. Tommy scribbled notes as his boyfriend spoke. The Red Omega was in charge of coordinating the terms and conditions of their quad relationship outside of their new home.

“We’re far enough from Angel Grove that those two can go out in the community without anyone recognizing them for who they really are. If anyone from the team is out this way, we need to let each other know so Drakkon and Red can lay low. Otherwise, the agreement was that Red is my uncle and Drakkon is his partner, correct?” he asked, looking at the other three faces for verification.

“Fine by me,” Red answered, shrugging. He crossed the wooden floor to settle onto the opposite end of the couch.

Drakkon merely twirled his finger in the air.

“Whatever,” he grunted.

Jason now looked to the older men and raised a finger.

“That brings me to my next point. Drakkon and Red aren’t going to work as names here. We can’t have people talking about the two newcomers with strange names. That might get around. So you two need to pick regular names,” he instructed, before another thought occurred to him.

Looking to Tommy, he raised a brow.

“They’ll probably need ID’s, won’t they? Not that they are probably going to be doing any driving, but if someone asks or something, we need one.”

The White Ranger frowned as he jotted that point down on his list.

“I used to have a fake one. But I got it from someone else. I can try to do it though,” he offered.

At that, Drakkon gave a loud laugh, his head tilted back.

“What?” Tommy snapped, indignantly.

Drakkon whipped a faux tear off his cheek.

“Kiddo, you and I both know that wasn’t our forte. They always came out like ass for one reason or another. Just let me drop a discreet wad of cash in the right hands and have someone else do it,” he snickered. “Its not like buying this place drained all my resources.”

Jason looked pointedly at Drakkon.

“Can you do it without it coming back to bite us?”

Now the tyrant pulled a face.

“Look who you’re talking to, duckling. I have always been excellent at explaining the risks of crossing me,” he grinned, looking over at Red, who just nodded and stuffed another chip in his mouth.

“So that just leaves the issue of picking names. Do either of you have any ideas about what you want to go by now?” Jason asked, looking from one face to the other.

Red shrugged, licking the salt from his lips as he struggled to think of a suitable name.

“Maybe something with a ‘J’ since I used to be Jason. Know any good ones?” he answered.

“Isn’t Jay a name?” Drakkon tried, before dismissing it. “Never mind. I don’t think that suits you.”

Tommy ran through a list out loud while the other three men mentally tried them out on the bespectacled partner.

“John, Jonathan, James, Jayden, Jamie…” he muttered.

“That one!” the tyrant shrieked as Tommy got to the last one, making everyone jump.

Jason glared at him.

“Why do you get to pick his name?”

Drakkon looked at him like he was stupid.

“Because that’s the name I’ll be moaning. Plus aren’t Tommy and I the dominants here?” he snarked again. “I also picked his name the last time.”

Red tried it out a few times softly as he slowly nodded his head, fingers threading through his trimmed beard.

“It’s fine with me,” he shrugged. “I can live with that.”

“Alright, if you’re fine with it, then that’s what we’ll start calling you,” Jason sighed, then looked at Drakkon. “And you?”

Giving Jason and Tommy a sly look, he admitted.

“I already picked one. Didn’t have a choice when I had to sign the paperwork your uncle brought when met at that restaurant to finalize our deal. Luckily, he didn’t worry about ID when I showed him the case full of cash.”

He grinned, drawing out the anticipation of his name announcement.

The other three just stared at him, not giving the indulgent man what he wanted.

Drakkon huffed.

“My name is David. You know, like David Hasselhoff!”

Jason burst out laughing, Tommy stared at Drakkon in disbelief, and Red just shook his head and smiled.

“Fits you,” he smirked at his former master.

The tyrant spread his arms and looked at Tommy and Jason.

“Ok. What’s next?”

Fighting his laughter back, the Red Omega struggled to get back on task. He moved behind Tommy to read the notes over his shoulder. He nodded silently at what his boyfriend had written out so far.

“So, that would be clothes. Drakkon, I mean David, you need to take Jamie and go shopping for clothes. Regular stuff too, not all kinky leather costumes. You have to be able to go out in public.”

“Am I just a purse with legs to you all?” he accused, before giving a possum-esque grin. “Just kidding. I love playing the rich benefactor.”

Jason shook his head.

“You’re getting something out of our arrangement too, David. Don’t forget that.”

Drakkon raised a finger abruptly.

“If I’m paying for home décor too, then I get to make all the decorating decisions,” he demanded.

Jason glanced at Tommy and Red. When they both denied caring about picking out dinner plate patterns, the Omega rolled his eyes.

“Fine. But can you keep it normal? Nothing immoral or warped in case someone shows up. And if you pick a bunch of super expensive shit, that’s not going to work either. It doesn’t fit the backstory we’ve already decided on,” he instructed the former evil Ranger.

“Fine,” Drakkon huffed. “I’ve been there, done that anyways.”

Tommy also read over the list of logistical issues.

“Ok, we’ve talked about names, ID’s, clothes, when to lay low, the backstory… what else?” the White Ranger asked, looking at Drakkon and Red. “Anything you guys want to add?”

“Can we discuss sex now? All this other stuff is boring,” Drakkon pressed. He defiantly grabbed his Mountain Dew again and slung it back, daring someone to say something.

“Is that all you can think about?” Tommy grouched.

Drakkon laughed and winked.

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” he answered.

Jason threw his hands up and sighed.

“Fine, if that’s something we can get out of the way, we can discuss domestic responsibilities later. Drakkon, oh God, I mean David, I assume you want to start?”

Now the newly christened David stood and paced before the assembled group.

“If I’m making rules about my body, then I’m letting you all know now, I’m a dominant top. I know Jason and Jamie don’t mind playing with each other, but I don’t think Tommy and I will match well in the sack. You know, we’ve had a past of despising each other,” he declared. “But I’m more than happy to bed the other two.”

“Fair enough,” the White Ranger added. “I have no desire to fuck around with you either, David. I also want Jason and Jamie.”

He scratched behind his ear with the pencil, thinking.

“I’d say I’m usually a dominant top but I’m open to taking orders on occasion.”

Jason reclined against the side of the couch, arms crossed.

“So overall, the big picture is David/Jamie and Tommy/Jason as our main relationship with Jamie and I being submissive pets and you two our dominant masters. But pets can be swapped. That sound right?”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“Then Jamie and I need to take extra measures to ensure our safety and that our boundaries are known clearly. Because we are not just interchangeable sex dolls,” he stressed, looking directly at the tyrant. “What is ok with Jamie might not be for me. Especially since he has more ‘experience’. But he might want to do some of that wild shit anymore since he has a choice now.”

Red tilted his head, thoughtfully.

“Right now, I’m fine with what I’ve been doing. I’m pretty used to all of it. I just want it respected if for some reason I do say ‘No’ to something,” he murmured. “Like if I get too sore from rough-housing with three muscular guys.”

Tommy paused his notation and stared at Drakkon intently.

“We will respect it, right?” It wasn’t really a question.

“Of course,” Drakkon sighed.

Jason smiled.

“Good. Jamie and I can compare notes later regarding specific acts and situations he’s done with David so I can decide if I’m comfortable performing it or not. Then we can discuss those with you.”

Jamie put forth a topic next; he had so far been pretty laid back about all the decisions, which concerned Tommy. It was important he feel he was an equal partner in this quad. In the overall relationship, they each had a say with their own boundaries and hard limits as well as what they wanted to experience.

“We should probably discuss the issues of ‘marking’ and ‘collaring’ especially since we will be seen in public,” the soft-spoken man advised.

Jason’s eyes widened and he nodded.

“Good idea. If Jamie and I always walk around looking like we got our asses beat, people will talk and someone might call the police. Especially since we sometimes get carried away. I think we need to be discreet if we have a black eye or busted lip and if we have a bruise or cut we can cover, we should do so. Just remember, we want to avoid trashy gossip,” he stated, watching as Tommy wrote this item down and turned the page.

His hand then went to his collar, a thin black leather necklace that was in reality a discreet collar. Tommy’s version was actually a key but no one could tell by sight alone. Looking to Jamie and David, he decided to ask what their thoughts were regarding a collar.

“Jamie, I’m going to guess David is in favor of a collar. Do you want to wear one? Obviously, it won’t be some golden, blinged out monstrosity like you had before. Something less obvious,” he asked his doppelganger.

“You know I’m pro-collar, darling,” David spoke up. “Rest assured I can pick you out something socially appropriate.”

Jamie crumpled his empty chip bag and pitched it into a nearby can.

“I’d prefer a collar. My neck has felt pretty bare ever since my other one broke,” he commented.

Now, Tommy spoke up as he stood for his turn to speak.

“Does it matter who marks who as far as biting and all that? Like David and I can mark either of you? David, I need to know if you have any objections to that too.”

David shrugged.

“I personally don’t care. We are basically the same person and so are they. Yes, we all have personal preferences but I won’t feel territorial if you bite my pet as long as I can do the same.”

Both Jason and Jamie nodded in agreement.

“I’m going to suggest we take it easy on that like I mentioned with the bruises and cuts so people don’t talk. Maybe do it in areas we can cover,” the Red Omega suggested.

The group easily agreed.

Then Tommy brought up an overlooked situation.

“What about Jamie and Red marking each other or playing without us present? We haven’t discussed that since you and I are the dominants and don’t have any interest in each other sexually.”

“Interesting point, Tommy,” David commented. “I’d be sad to miss such a delicious sight but again, it’s like they’re doing some futuristic masturbation.”

Jason and Jamie looked at each other thoughtfully. Each knew the other was on the same page.

Jamie fielded the question.

“I think Jason and I are more interested in playing with each other for our masters’ enjoyment, not just because we want to fuck each other. But I say we just leave it open. We haven’t all lived together like this before,” he answered. “He might want me to teach him some things.”

He gave Jason a wink then as David and Tommy growled in arousal.

The White Ranger shook his head to clear it so he could get to another important area.

“Something I think is vital is checking in with whoever we are playing with to make sure they are comfortable. Having appropriate safe words is another thing. Jason and I don’t use ‘green’ or ‘red’ as code words due to our Ranger colors. We might be role playing and it could get confusing.”

Jason put his arms around his partner’s shoulders.

“Also, Tommy always makes after care a priority. He doesn’t just use me like a sex toy then abandon me. We talk about what we did and if there was something that bothered us or made us feel upset for some reason.”

David pulled Jamie up from the couch and gave him a nuzzle, kissing his temple.

“You know all that is new to me, but I will make sure we keep communication open. Especially considering our prior dynamic. I don’t want you revert back to feeling like you can’t refuse me. But with our history, I think we both got pretty good at reading each other’s body language and facial expressions,” he whispered against Jamie’s lips.

“Same with me,” Tommy spoke up. “I might not be as good as reading you as David is, so I think it’s a good idea for us to move more cautiously.

Jason squeezed his boyfriend more tightly.

“The list Jamie and I come up with for our boundaries and wants will help. But we should never just assume anything. We can all stop this at any time for any reason. Understood?”

All four men agreed.

“I don’t think any of us could have seen this in our futures,” the White Ranger laughed.

“Definitely not,” David smiled, caressing Jamie’s jaw. “But I think I much prefer this life to the one I had before.”

“Same,” Jamie quipped, grinning back.

“Oh my God, you guys. You know if we ever get caught by the others, they will fucking kill all four of us, right?” Jason warned.

David gave his Cheshire Cat grin, all teeth showing.

“Don’t worry, duckling. I know a thing or two about being sneaky.”

[augment-techs]

This is all very accurate and the general consensus; I mean, am I right @ajgrey9647​ ?

Send a ship ask: World of the Coinless Drakkon/Jason

Send me a ship and I’ll list three things I like about it, regardless of my overall opinions of the ship:

@augment-techs

The intimacy between the would definitely be... something, that's for sure? Definitely battling it out every time when things get hot and heated.

They really don't like the idea of someone else kicking the other's ass and will pretty much jump into the fire and beat their asses.

They'll never admit that they worry about each other when they clean up each other's wounds, and have a silent but loving moment between them when no one else is insight.

[augment-techs]

Moving my ask. I think it was 26 or 15 and Lord Drakkon/Coinless Jason. It had to do with erotic branding or marking/claiming ownership. Just putting thus in the correct spot lol

There was a gallon sized pickle jar, in the fridge in Drakkon's old bedroom in the palace, full of blood kept fresh and clean to add to his food, a condiment for eggs and meats instead of barbecue or Tabasco.

There were flash-frozen packets in the freezer marked with words like 'liver' and 'thigh meat' and 'rump'--that last one having a disgustingly innocent little heart tacked on in the corner--without a trace of freezer burn, and another packet that looked like the liver that was half-eaten; a little note taped to the side that read 'use with dirty rice instead of chopped cauliflower; very rare'.

When Kimberly closed the door to the fridge, she really took the moment to read the little recipes posted on a notepad that was taped to the top of the fridge that only came up to her chest, wondering about the measurements, but also about the timetables attached that didn't seem to make a lot of sense...

She considered the words with the same levels of trepidation that she did with everything involving the fucker, who now sat in a room not terribly unlike the one he'd stored Jason in for years on end, (except his had one glass window and was all white; the very best kind of fuck you that had been inadvertent, but savored by literally everyone else). The feeling of something creeping up on her, like a little girl in a dark forest, a hard thing to shake off.

'Can't take too much blood; have to wait another week. Anemia causes loss of potency,' and, 'Maybe give J. some of the skin from the thighs at our next dinner,' and 'Infection. Need to wait until the whole course for treatment plays out. Might try another option, even if none of them taste right.'

And so the terrible handwriting continued on, not a lot of it making sense to Kimberly as she thumbed through; tips of her fingers feeling the indentations where Drakkon had pressed down too hard in something like anger and the pen spurted and blotched the ink.

Until she pulled all the paper up and found a collective of pictures there, in almost stylized black and white with a little pinch of other colors edited in, sort of like models used for headshots she remembered from when she was maybe ten and her mother thought she would do just as well in the pageant circuit as in gymnastics (before her parents realized that it would make their squabbling and inability to be in the same room as each other for a prolonged period of time especially apparent; gossip being poison for them before they moved to Angel Grove and made it a hobby).

The first one was Jason, haggard and maybe in his early twenties in the clothes he'd been placed in while in solitary confinement in the bowels of the castle prison where the softest thing he could touch was stone and his iron shackles, seated on the bed he'd been given, now in the highest room in the tower Drakkon built especially and just for him. He was so thin, his five o'clock shadow a mess, his hair greasy and washed out, and he looked downright pissed to be made to sit like a pet, but also like something was keeping him back from attacking the bastard. His eyes were fixed behind Drakkon with the camera, but Kim couldn't tell anything beyond that. There were no reflective surfaces in that cloistered set of rooms; Jason largely having to rely on Drakkon or what could have been called friends (something Kim still wasn't sure about; Jason had asked for them often enough when he'd been let out, but had also been cautious around them and..sort of sad) in Skull and Adam when it came to his appearance.

The second picture was dated a year later on the front in overly curled scrawl with a sloppy pen; Jason in the exact same spot, but with the light coming in from the window without bars, without glass, with only one way out. He looked almost like his old self, much stronger and clean and practically perfect but for the fake smile he was aiming at the camera in an attempt to play seductive and submissive; and of course Drakkon had made sure to take away all of his clothes for this shot, really get a look at the defined and healthy skin and muscle that he, doubtless, jacked off to more often than not.

The pictures after that was more posed, still on the bed and Jason still not wanting to do this in the eyes of anyone with a basic sense of decency, but Kimberly was brought to think very much of old ads made for Marilyn Monroe for movies where she was still dressed, but was little more than an empty headed bimbo that the executives of Hollywood loved thinking of her as. Though with Jason, Drakkon made sure that there was no clothing and he was displayed in every lewd way the tyrant could think of: propped up on his knees with his hands wrapped in striking red ribbons behind his back; curled around an oversized rabbit plushy as if half asleep and very sweaty from what the camera light gleaned off of him; standing with his arms holding onto a sheet hanging from the ceiling, his right hip on full display to show an ever present bite mark from Drakkon's own mouth that was constantly being reopened.

The last pictures at the bottom gave her pause, courage suddenly hesitant, and sent something curdled and heavy into the pit of her stomach.

More set up, more in order, less wild than Jason in his first picture, was Skull in his Red Sentry Captain's uniform, sans the helmet, standing straight and tall in what looked like a bathroom brought about in the palace; one of Drakkon's luxury suites for visiting warlords and despots and demons; one hand on his lance, and one perched on the shoulder of Adam Park. Adam seated on the rim of the expensive looking tub, in Black Sentry uniform, also sans helmet; legs crossed in an attempt to look proper, with his hands together in his lap. Both looking…resigned. Straight ahead like they were ordered to, and tired.

Bulk had shown Kim old history books with pictures as such; Russian Czars and empresses, Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, those little princes locked in the Tower of London before vanishing in the night.

She couldn't stop her hands from shaking as she finally lifted them up to see the final photo, slightly bigger than the others, and more wrinkled and worn at the edges from continued adjustments.

...After Kim muscled her way into not vomiting down between her feet and onto the cold floor, she was left with a sort of memory of when her parents took her to a museum for a little bit of culture and could not help but draw comparisons between two works of art and the plight of the two who were, apparently, just as much captives of Drakkon as Jason ever was. Kim was left struck, insanely, by how much Eugene looked rather like John Sargent's masterpiece of Madame X; pale figure, smooth continence, extremely dark hair and altogether gorgeous under the sight of the artist themself. Except that woman in the portrait could not be further from undergoing the ministrations placed upon the spy. Drakkon had taken care to highlight and edit in just how RED Eugene's blood was against the marble white of the inside of the tub he'd been placed in, limbs limp and unmoving, and eyes glassy with what had to have been unending agony without the reprieve of medication or even basic drugs to numb him to the cutting. As for Adam (oh, and now she could understand why he seemed to stay so close to him even now, both sheepdogs with a bit of wolf blood or witch hares out in the open and watching out for weak sheep and rabbits against the snapping teeth of a dragon), Kim was still reminded of grand art in gilded frames. Something of a Titian portrait sprung to mind, a showcase of a Greek myth in which a very pompous satyr challenged the god Apollo to a music contest and lost, thereby losing his life by being flayed alive by the god and other satyrs as some mortal king looked on with interest.

Except there was no joy in what Adam was being made to do, hand much steadier than Kim's would have been as he stood on his knees over the tub, a pale imitation of the Dragon Dagger in hand as he sliced a mortician's incision in Eugene's skin, pulling back the edges like a pale wrap to see the pulsing insides.

There was a metal tray off to the side of the tub, stainless steel and with a China plate with stenciled golden flowers on it, holding pieces of extremely dark meat at the center, also edited to show the almost purple hue trailing blood drops that had landed on Eugene's cheek.

And apart from all of these grotesques, Kim's brown eyes had grown almost black with a little ring of dark Pink each as she zeroed in on the finger mark bruises ringed around both men's necks, a ring around Adam's that looked like black paint as his spare hand carefully pressed down just above Eugene's beating heart; and what looked to be dozens of bite marks all along Eugene that hadn't just settled against the skin like they had with Jason. Drakkon had bitten into Eugene and yanked. Her mind did her no favors, reminding her of the sound Drakkon sometimes made when he took a mouthful of rich meat and swallowed.

Putting the pictures back down with every part of her wanting to run away from the room as fast as she could, Kimberly could also not help but stand rooted to the spot, blankly staring at the fridge that had just moments earlier seemed to be entirely harmless, but as she took in frightened little rabbit breaths, seemed more like a collection of all the world's poison and disasters.

And then there was a memory…

[ajgrey9647]

Taking the Mantle

Time did not exist in Drakkon’s prison, no way to tell day from night or one season from the other. Locked away in utter silence, the darkness stretching away into forever, Jason’s mind was fracturing. Unlike a bone, there was no snap, no swelling or deformity to call attention to the injury.

Yes, the former Red Ranger had those and more, thanks to the devoted attention of Lord Drakkon. Half blind, weak, and traumatized, how could this be the rest of his life? How many years that would feel like eternity?

The intense pressure grounding into his psyche like shards of glass while the tyrant laughed and ripped pieces of his identity away, piece by treasured piece. His name was forbidden, his life seemingly ended in the Command Center, his coin perverted into bastardized guards for this psychopathic asshole.

Drakkon kept him isolated, drugged at times, deprived of sleep and food, constantly on edge with the warlord’s unpredictable behavior. The old leather belt would drape over his knee as his sat on his throne correcting his new pet’s behavior. Favorite targets were the captive’s lower back, tops of his thighs, shoulders, and belly.

Jason resisted so hard for so long, mentally panting and gasping, while Drakkon insisted he was merely a pet, a dog, no longer a human being. The ‘Jason’ in his mind was squeezed so tightly he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, desperate for relief.

Desperate to the point he allowed the cruel torturer to take his virginity, fucking him in Drakkon’s private bathing chamber. All the while, the tyrant continued to refute his humanity, ignore the ‘Jason’ inside bawling for him to stop, to please not do this.

Finally, it happened.

A nudge to ‘Jason’s’ side, a soft whine and brush of thick fur on his bare arm. The cool damp nose glossed his cheek and a comforting tongue gave a gentle lick.

‘Who are you? How did you get here?’ Jason asked the strange canine with the large, dark brown eyes lit through with shades of honey.

‘I’m Red,’ the dog answered, shaggy head nestling in Jason’s lap. ‘I’m going to take over from here. You can rest. Drakkon wants a pet, so I’ll wear that mantle. I can survive this way.’

‘I’m afraid,’ Jason confided, a tear rolling down his cheek.

A soothing paw lifted as if to ‘shake’; it landed atop Jason’s hand in solidarity.

‘You’ll go to sleep. No more pain, no more shame or humiliation. He gets his way but maybe someday, the tables will turn. There are few certainties in life, Jason,’ Red gave a wide toothy grin.

Jason stared blankly ahead and swallowed sadly.

‘Am I going crazy?’

Red’s head shook side to side.

‘No, you’re going to live. I’ll survive Drakkon for us both.’

Jason inclined his forehead against Red’s.

‘Thank you, Red. I can’t bear this anymore,’ he sobbed.

This primary personality closed his eyes then, curled softly like a baby on his side, and quieted. Red’s eyes glowed as he took control of the body, still crouched protectively by the traumatized alter.

 Drakkon grinned at Jason over his shoulder, looking into the mirror together. The metronome ticked maddeningly on the rough wooden table, a bright light flashing in the captive’s eyes.

“Tell me your name,” the tyrant hissed, hands on the trembling shoulders.

Eerily the shaking ceased, the sobbing and tears wiped clean from a now expressionless face.

“My name is Red,” the rough, gravelly voice answered.

Drakkon’s head tilted to the side and his eyes darkened to black.

“There’s my good boy.”

[ajgrey9647]

Why does this sound familiar???

[ajgrey9647]

Hand’s Off

When it came to surviving under Lord Drakkon’s tyranny, there were a few key rules that one should always abide by. Obviously, you wanted to keep your head down, do your job, and not draw any unnecessary attention to yourself. Even drawing Drakkon’s notice for a successful endeavor was unwise; when you inevitably fucked up, the warlord ensured you were thoroughly fucked.

There was another very important tenant you wanted to keep front and center:

Never, ever put your dirty paws on Drakkon’s property. Don’t even dream it.

Three Red Sentries had become too complacent in their roles as Drakkon’s higher ranking guards. They were envious of their master’s decadent and lavish lifestyle and it wasn’t just the material possessions they coveted. There was a great deal of mystique surrounding the grey-haired man who accompanied Drakkon around the palace.

The man was lithely built, the black and grey silk caressing his powerful lean muscle. One of the men remarked that the mute man reminded him of a champion racehorse. He was enticingly compliant and subservient to Drakkon’s demands, typically shadowing the tyrant behind his right shoulder.

When asked about this mysterious prisoner, none of the other Sentries would elaborate on his history. The man’s name had been forbidden years ago and once he had been broken, Drakkon created this spooky human-pet. That’s all that needed to be said, according to the older guards. Best to leave history in the past.

The trio watched the man discreetly over the coming weeks, waiting for an opening to play with their master’s puppy. It appeared that there would never be an opportunity as Drakkon always present. Frustrated, they had grumbled amongst themselves how unfair it was that the tyrant kept all the good stuff for himself.

Then one chilly October day, the timing was perfect. Lord Drakkon had abruptly departed the palace on an excursion to dismantle a disruptive cell of Coinless that had been vexing him for some time; they had earned his personal attention. He departed in the early morning, leaving his pet behind to wait for his return.

Once the Sentries were sure the tyrant was no longer in residence, they tracked the man known only as Red to the throne room. Pushing the heavy double doors open, they entered the chilly, dimly lit room where Red knelt on his knees beside the large stone chair. The trio grinned at each other evilly as they secured the door tightly shut.

“Here, boy!” the ringleader called, patting his thigh and whistling. “Good boy!”

Red lifted his head slightly, one dark eye glittering ferally, the hazy blueish white one even appeared ominous. He made no moved to comply with the order or even get up.

“Get over here now!” the Sentry commanded sharply, pointing to the floor in front of the group.

Now, Red’s lip lifted in a snarl and he growled in warning. But the men didn’t care. They descended quickly on the odd prisoner, hands grabbing at his hair, his clothes, touching him intimately, commenting on his body.

“Don’t be such a frigid bitch,” one scolded. “We just want to play with you.”

“Yeah,” another added. “We’ll be much nicer to you than Drakkon.”

“He does have a gorgeous ass, doesn’t he,” another cooed, his fingers teasing along the taut muscle.

Red continued to shove their hands away before a fist slammed into his face, stunning him. His uniform ripped under the demanding tugging; the sound of the silk tearing almost sickening. The attackers attempted to pin him to the floor, arguing who would get the first go.

Roaring with fury, Red easily tossed the Sentries to the ground, surprising them. He pulled himself to his feet and, head lowered, eyes locked on the three men, he advanced angrily. He was a frightening figure, like a rabid dog circling them.

Too late, it became apparent that Red was just as cuckoo as his master.

When Drakkon returned to his palace that evening after a successful squashing of Coinless resistance, he frowned at the inability to open the doors to his throne room. Who in theee fuck thought they would lock him out of one of his own rooms? With sudden energy, Drakkon kicked the doors open; they splintered under the powerful blow.

“Goddammit, what the fuck happened here? Red?” he bellowed, looking around at the bright splashes of blood congealing on the walls and rugs, oddly shaped objects scattered across the floor.

It took a moment before he recognized that he was standing in the midst of a disemboweled body or, more accurately, bodies. Arms, legs, intestines, brain matter smeared almost the entirety of the entryway where the victims had attempted to escape whatever demon set upon them.

“Master?” a hoarse voice rasped.

Red knelt at his customary place beside Drakkon’s throne. His hair was disheveled, his beautiful uniform ripped, and blood had dried around his mouth. It also soaked his arms and chest where he had ripped into the unwitting prey.

Drakkon briskly darted towards his obedient pet.

“What in the hell went on in my throne room?” he demanded.

He motioned with his hand for Red to stand and gave another command.

“Look at me,” he said firmly.

Red’s face showed exhaustion and confusion, but he looked lovingly at his owner.

“Forgive me for making such a mess, master. I’ll clean it up promptly.”

His eyes glanced to the other side of the room where the body of a man was propped against the wall. Red nodded towards him and explained to Drakkon what had occurred in his absence.

“Those men broke in here. They were grabbing at me, to play with me. I knew they shouldn’t be touching me without your knowledge. When they wouldn’t stop, I made them stop,” he whispered.

A low groan came from the direction of where the man, the ringleader, had crumpled. Drakkon’s brow raised in appreciation.

“I see you saved one for me, my good boy,” he grinned.

Red nodded and replied, “He was the instigator, master.”

Drakkon’s heavy boots caught the Sentry’s attention as the tyrant approached. He knelt in the man’s face and screamed venomously.

“I never did learn to share, motherfucker! Who told you that you could touch him? Put your disgusting hands on my good boy? You and I are going on a little walk!”

He grabbed the man in his strong grip and hauled him to his feet by the neck.

“Come along! It’s getting dark out and our audience won’t get to witness your punishment adequately.”

He gave a sharp whistle and immediately a Yellow Sentry appeared in the doorway.

“My lord?” she asked in confusion, noting the gore covering the grand room.

“Gather the other Sentries. All the colors. I want them in the courtyard this minute. Drop everything and get their ass over there. We need to make something crystal fucking clear to those fuckheads!”

The Red Sentry groaned in Drakkon’s gloved grip and gestured to the Yellow.

“Help me,” he croaked, extending a broken arm towards her.

Before he knew what was happing, the warlord’s hand snared his jaw and, with a flick of his wrist, snapped the bone at the joints. The Sentry tried to scream and could only heave with the pain.

“Shut your goddamn mouth, you foolish sack of shit!” he snarled.

“I’ll gather them right away, my lord,” the obedient Sentry responded fearfully.

When she departed, Drakkon turned towards Red, who stood at attention again, head bowed. He looked dead on his feet, the fight and the raging had taken a lot out of him.

“Go into my private chambers, Red, and wash up. I’ll allow you to wear some of my bedclothes while I have more uniforms made. Wait beside my bed until I come for you,” he ordered.

Red nodded and limped noticeably to the door; the brawl had aggravated his weaker knee. Drakkon’s eyes narrowed as he watched Red obey.

“Now then, you putrid meat sack, let’s go have a discussion on touching other people’s property.”

An hour passed as Red waited meekly beside his master’s large four poster bed. His thick hair was still damp and he relished the feel of the expensive material of the bedclothes against his unworthy flesh. He’d never felt anything so comfortable.

When Drakkon returned, he was grinning his ominous possum smile, pupils almost black with the thrill of this newest fuckery.

“Come, my good boy. I have something to show you,” he cooed.

Submissively, Red followed his master out of the palace into the courtyard.

No one else appeared to be around. Drakkon continued toward a patch of earth that had recently been disturbed. There was an odd stick-like projection jutting at an odd angle into the air.

“Listen,” Drakkon hushed, putting a finger to his lips.

Very faintly, Red could just barely make out a terrified scream broken up by intermittent unintelligible begging.

“Hear that?” the tyrant grinned, showing sharp teeth.

He kicked a white boot at the dirt pile and laughed evilly.

“No one will ever touch you without my permission again,” Drakkon vowed, as he turned towards Red and stroked his cheek.

[ajgrey9647]

Elaborate Theatrics of a Psycho

So I got this little plot bunny and it creeped me the hell out. I should make this a series of the outlandish fuckery Drakkon wallows in. 

December: 

At this point, even the Red Sentries thought Drakkon had absolutely lost it. They tried not to stare or act in any way that this behavior was bizarre. Staring squarely ahead into the lightly falling snowflakes, the men merely nodded as the tyrant passed by.

Skull’s amused eyes tracked along as Drakkon skipped and pranced through the gathering drifts, the frigid air not seeming to bother him in the least. The warlord pranced and twirled along the path through the courtyard as he approached the door to the dungeons. He even merrily waved a thick white gloved hand at the guards.

What would normally be considered eccentric theatrics was positively horrifying in this scenario. It was not funny in the slightest. Whoever Drakkon was on the way to visit was most likely in deep shit.

‘Poor bastard’, Skull thought to himself, shaking his head.

Drakkon shouldered the door open, his arms carrying a wrapped gift topped with a shiny red ribbon knotted in a bow. He whistled cheerfully, his heavy black boots thudding on the stone walkway. With every movement, the delicate tinkling of bells could be heard.

When he rounded the corner to the cell where Jason crouched on the floor, knees drawn to his chest protectively, the psycho grinned. It was barely visible but wouldn’t have comforted the frightened teen at all. Drakkon’s normally hazel eyes were almost black, his pupils dilated widely the way they always did when he was in the throws of some outlandish fuckery.

Jason could only gape up at Drakkon, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He pressed his back flush against the icy wall and braced for whatever game was in the works. The sight was absurd, and he wasn’t entirely sure that he wasn’t hallucinating.

Twirling grandly so his captive could appreciate the intricate detail of his costume, the evil Ranger chuckled in a deep voice.

“Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas, sunshine!” he bellowed in a faux Santa Claus voice.

The costume he wore was custom made and very expensive considering it was only created to enact this shenanigan. It was bright red and very soft, the overcoat cinched at the waist by a wide buckled black belt. A white fluffy beard covered most of the lower part of his face and an elfin red hat with a white puff dangling off the end perched on his head.

Holy fuck, Jason shuddered. He’s going to kill me! He’s fucking lost it!

Drakkon looked like he walked off the pages of a Stephen King novel.

“Have you been a good boy, Red Ranger? Be honest,” he continued in the same Santa-esque voice. “You know how the song goes, right? ‘Santa knows whose been naughty or nice.’”

Jason squeezed his eyes shut; a tear rolled down his cheek beside his trembling lips.

“Awww, don’t be scared. I brought you a gift!” he soothed, holding up the garishly decorated box. “Feliz Navidad!”

Opening the cell door as he whistled ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’, he crossed to where his prisoner cowered and crouched in front of him. Drakkon plopped the offering near Jason’s hand and waited expectantly.

“Open it!” he chuckled deeply again.

The Red Ranger shook his head and hugged his legs tighter.

“I don’t want to,” he whimpered, eyeing the gift in terror.

Drakkon tilted his head, the bells on his costume jingling ominously.

“What’s the matter, sunshine? Need some help?” he cooed.

Reaching out he removed the red velvet bow stuck to the top of the present and pressed it onto the top of Jason’s head. The terror gripping the teen made it impossible for him to move away as Drakkon christened him, mockingly. The decoration attached haphazardly to the dark hair.

“Come now! I put a lot of thought into this! You don’t want to know what the bad boys on Santa’s list get,” he whispered, stroking Jason’s cheek with a white gloved finger.

Shoulders heaving and his breath hitching, the former Ranger reached out and pulled the box into his lap. Who knew what fucked up thing was inside? Hesitantly, he started pulling the tacky wrapping paper away.

Drakkon eyed him, eyes still a deep black, and whistling ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’. Periodically he would move slightly making the bells sound again in the cold room. The puff attached to his hat jiggled with every merry head bob.

“This is something special that made me think of you,” he murmured. “I thought you might enjoy using it as well.”

Jason’s muscles were tensed as he waited for something painful to happen. He was down to the cardboard box itself now and he paused, struggling not vomit.

“Please, just tell me what’s in here,” he begged.

“But that’s no fun!” Drakkon moaned, cupping the teen’s cheek.

Continuing his silent sobs, Jason freed the flaps from the tape holding the box closed. Inside, all he could see was white feathery packing peanuts. Obviously, the expectation was for him to put his hand blindly into the contents.

“Go on, feel around in there,” Drakkon Claus prodded.

Slowly, he moved a tremulous hand and tried subtly to move the peanuts as he lowered it in. Straining to see between the annoying fluff, Jason hoped he could discern what hateful item was lurking beneath. It was useless.

The tearful captive nearly jumped when his fingers brushed something soft and warm. He wrapped his fingers around the mystery object and pulled it out. Confused, he blinked the moisture from his eyes as tried to understand what he was looking at.

The battered, brown stuffed dog hung limply in his hand, one black button eye missing and its nose rubbed threadbare.

“What is this?” he whispered carefully, not wanting to set Drakkon off.

The man in question was quiet a moment as he gazed at the little dog. Finally, he sighed.

“That’s a little puppy that’s seen a lot of pain, mopped thousands of tears, and heard endless, broken prayers,” he answered. “I kept him all this time, hidden away from the world.”

Those devilish black eyes slid back to Jason’s face.

“And now I have you. My good boy.”

Reaching into the box himself, Drakkon pulled out a thick metal choke collar. Jason sucked in a horrified breath as the asshole slid it over his head.

“It’s time we started working on your training, my little speckled pup.”

[augment-techs]

I don’t know if @ajgrey9647​ was making an implication or an ask, but here’s something, anyway. Title: in a different place and time Rating: Unrated Relationships: Lord Drakkon/World of the Coinless Jason Scott; World of the Coinless Billy Cranston & Ranger Slayer Kimberly Hart; World of the Coinless Billy Cranston/World of the Coinless Eugene Skullovitch & World of the Coinless Adam Park; etc. Characters: Lord Drakkon; Coinless Jason; Ranger Slayer Kim; Coinless Billy; Sentry Skull; Sentry Adam; Coinless Bulk; Coinless David Trueheart; Coinless Zack; Coinless Trini; etc. Additional Tags: Domestic Imperfections; Rebuilding the World; Alternate Universe - Drakkon isn’t a TOTAL lost cause; Major Illness; Physical Violence; Blood and Gore; Sleepy Cuddles; Hardcore Sex; Hurt/Comfort; Angst with a Happy Ending; Alternate Universe - No Shattered Grid. Summary: Perhaps a bargain could have been made, between the moment Drakkon snatched up the White Light from Jason and when he assigned himself as ruler of all the Earth. Perhaps it wasn’t so much that he wanted everything, just... a few small things that he always found were missing from his life. Before Rita, there was a woman who tried to be his mother, but never managed to properly bond with him. Before that there were only group homes and the streets and the half-there memories of a hand only a little bigger than his reaching for him and screaming while he was being taken away. Drakkon--...Tommy spent so long feeling like he’d never be good enough for anything, so once he had everything he couldn’t help feeling a sort of...disquiet. He took Jason to his new palace; he snatched up Cranston months later instead of shooting him through the chest; he did not use the obedience spell on Kim first thing after she’d tried to put arrows through his head a year after that. Once he had three of them, the Green Dragon that had made a home in his chest since the Sword of Darkness was broken seemed to be less hungry, wanted to scream and rail like a barn door in a hurricane less. He put them in a massive set of rooms, made sure they were cared for, and...heard them out instead of goading horribly when he asked them about what they would do to make the world a better place through him. Cranston was actually rather perfect for infrastructure, Kimberly was lovely when it came to people and helping him find a way to sort of...settle the Coinless into assisting the new world order. Jason could not and would not be held in place like a pet; kept thinking everything was a trick and tried to fight him at least once a month. So, of course, the best that Drakkon could think of to make him knock it off, was take him to his training stadium, kiss him on the mouth, and watch the chips falls where they would.

[ajgrey9647]

Naughty Boy

Pulling his head from beneath the pilfered button up, David hissed a rude curse at the bright sunlight blasting him in the eyes. This day promised to be off to a fantastic start, he could tell by the tender part of his anatomy tucked under the quilt. Both his ego and his balls still felt bruised from the previous day’s bullshit.

Goddamn, his nuts throbbed! Gingerly reaching between his thighs, he cupped the area and tried to rub the pain away. It helped but not much. Filling a tight, hot, bruised ass would have felt way better than his own scarred fingers stroking his sac.

He stared up at the ceiling rafters in embarrassed rage. How dare that mongrel do this to him! Clearly, a strong hand was required to yank that disobedient beast back in line. His pet had a lot of nerve for a subhuman make-believe creature.

David knew that one day he’d catch Red out again. When that happened, he swore that he’d find a way to get a belt and strap that fucking mutt’s hide until he was covered in bloody welts and drenched in his own piss. Maybe being so damned sore that it hurt to fucking breath would give his pet time to reflect on his errors. The mad man grinned evilly imagining the crack of the leather across Red’s muzzle and flanks.

David would enjoy making his pet display that soft belly again. He just needed a clear demonstration of who was really the meanest motherfucker in the jungle. There had to be a way to put that psychotic pound puppy on notice.

An outer door slammed suddenly, and footsteps sounded in the kitchen. Quickly, David rolled to his side facing the wall, drawing the button up back over his head. The footsteps clipped through the living room to the bedroom doorway and paused as Jamie cautiously checked in on the snoozing warlord. David slyly slowed his breathing into the steady, easy rhythm of sleep.

[augment-techs]

Sappy sentence Come lay with me. I want to hear your heart beat. + Lord Drakkon/Coinless Jason

This is a little bit like cheating, but I'm trying to close out Pride Month with a few more than started with.

@ajgrey9647

[ajgrey9647]

More smutty shenanigan's.

[ajgrey9647]

This!

making a collection

[ajgrey9647]

wip wednesday: no lie, this feels a tiny bit like a trap, but...hm.

A Momentous Occasion – Drakkon, Red, Prime Tommy Oliver, Prime Jason Scott, Prime Billy Cranston, Prime Matthew Cook, Coinless/Red Sentry Eugene Skullovitch. It’s a holiday celebration with our quad and the throuple….

lol this is a little long but I'm excited to show you what I have on this one :)

“You know…all those years ago, when you first took a shine to me,” Eugene began softly, “I was utterly terrified of you even if I never showed it. Why me? What was it that drew you to me in a manner that wasn’t all rage and hate?”

Red looked thoughtful as he searched the recess of his old ‘canine’ mind, his dark eye staring at the deep veining in the wood of the picnic table. He vividly recalled the fury that consumed him whenever a Red Sentry was in his line of sight, those lucky souls only spared from his jaws if Drakkon was present to bring him to heel. That darkly blossoming emotion was oddly missing when it came to Skull and their interactions. 

“Do you remember that day? You crept up on me with that old Chinese finger trap, high as a kite and giggling like a schoolgirl…” Eugene prodded, giving the other man a gentle smile. “I truly thought I was going to shit my pants.”

The sentiment brought a mirthful chuckle from Red, his gaze coming back into focus as he looked up across the table at Skull’s mischievous face.

“I apologize for that… though it was my intention at the time to needle you, to keep you off balance,” he laughed. “Being a creepy asshole was something that brought me joy back then.”

The former pet tried to find the right words to answer Eugene’s initial question. It was difficult as he didn’t quite fully understand everything that was happening in his own mind in those terrible years. At the time, Red believed himself to be fully in tune with himself and his thoughts, never questioning the things that didn’t make sense or went against his delusional reality. 

But there was… ‘something’... that pulled at him whenever he looked upon the Red Sentry captain, even before their one-on-one conversations. From his place beside the cold slabs of stone that made up Drakkon’s throne, the gray-haired man found his eye drawn to the same guard over and over again. A tickle of a memory…somewhere in the tangled and tattered ribbons of his mind, his ‘Swiss cheese brain’ a source of constant frustration though he was never allowed to voice it.

“I’m not sure what it was about you that I found so appealing. Yes, you made me laugh and amused me, as I told you that day, but I feel like I noticed you before. An aura maybe? A feeling of safety, of protection? I knew red wasn’t your real color,” he frowned, brow furrowing. “I’m not sure what that means.”

Red’s response surprised Skull. 

“Interesting… how would I make you feel safe and protected? You were a literal living weapon in those days. And you were the one who eventually saved me. I was so sick that I’m sure I wouldn’t still be here if not for you nursing me back to health.”

Red was quiet as he cast his mind even further back, back to a time before ‘his’ memories began, to his ‘other’ self’s thoughts… CJ’s mind. It wasn’t as scary or as difficult as it used to be…not after CJ had unexpectedly surfaced and caught them all by surprise. The primary alter was a silent observer, an anxious child that the older man coddled under a protective wing. 

“I think a part of me…the part that was ‘Jason’...maybe recognized you, that you protected me once before…” he whispered, seeing the memory coming slowly to life. “You and Bulk did. At the Youth Center… When Tommy…errr Drakkon…was waiting for me.”

Skull’s eyes brightened at the reminder of his and Bulk’s heroics in those early days before their world went to absolute shit.

“Yes! That’s right! You remember that?”

Red nodded, smiling gently at Eugene’s excitement.

“Yes, I remember now. This is a momentous occasion, isn’t it? Can you believe how far we’ve come?”

The sky looked as if it were on fire, brilliant orange, red, and pink streaking the horizon as the sun descended, the vivid colors playing across the lake’s idle waves. Faint laughter and merriment could be heard from the other cabins as families celebrated the holiday festivities, punctuated by the occasional pop of an errant firework. Skull sipped his icy beverage, a virgin strawberry daiquiri, before responding.

“Definitely wasn’t on my bingo card,” he quipped. “Who would have thought I’d be sitting at a Fourth of July cookout and asking Lord Drakkon to slip me a hot dog?”

Both men snickered, neither missing the childish inappropriate innuendo that always seemed to shadow the Coinless orphans in this universe. Humor helped a lot in their healing, though it frequently gave Tommy, Jason, Matthew, and Billy pause when they happened to hear one of the off-color jokes or snarky commentary about what the older trio had experienced. Even after all their time together, it could be difficult to reconcile that such horrific trauma was being used as teasing fodder.

Red grinned at his friend.

“I doubt he’d imagined such a ‘normal’ interaction after our years in the palace.”

Eugene tilted his head in consideration of the other man’s words. 

“‘Normal…’ There’s another thing I never thought I’d see again… To get a second chance to live in a world that ours used to be and should have been right now,” he mused, his gray eyes sliding out across the water, appreciating the wealth of color this universe had to offer.

The action wasn’t unnoticed by the former pet and he reached out a hand to give his friend’s hand a friendly squeeze of camaraderie. 

“I never get tired of it either,” Red whispered reverently. “Not after being locked away with only black, gray, and brown to look at outside my window."

He favored Eugene with a teasing wink, nodding at his bright orange shirt.

"In fact, I think now what color rightfully belongs to you..."

A deep laugh sounded from where the grill still smoked near the deck as a shadowy figure worked to scrap it clean.

"Yes, Eugene. Resembling a giant orange creamsicle is much more in keeping with your style..." Drakkon razzed playfully.

[ajgrey9647]

Little update for now... Packing in a lot of work with new cases and a shit ton of paperwork before I go on vacation next week with the family. So I'll be MIA for a minute.

On the plus side, I'm sure I'll find lots of inspo for my precious guys while I'm out relaxing :)

[ajgrey9647]

My Quad Life crew

FOUND family??? you think i just found them like this??? babes this is FORGED family. Me & the bros were scrap metal in a junkyard (very valuable, very sharp, very dangerous, uncared for) and we GOT IN THE FUCKING FIRE TOGETHER. WE did this. we said I AM NOT LEAVING YOU and melted into each other for better or for worse (it’s for better) and we are A FUNCTIONAL UNIT now. DO NOT SEPARATE. BATTERIES FUCKING INCLUDED. FOUND family my ass, we built this non-nuclear family unit from the ground up, don’t devalue this!!! it was is and will be a labour of love!!!