#billy cranston x eugene skull skullovitch x matthew cook

[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.

[augment-techs]

I have so many ideas for the headcanon asks ugh~

I’ll start with this v for our beloved Billy/Skull???

(Also, are there any couples you are against or can I like throw wild cards at you for the fun of it? 😂)

Warning: reference to assault and underage.

Billy headcanons: Growing up reading everything under the sun that he could get his hands on, he once stumbled upon a book that told him that sex wasn't just intercourse; wasn't just penetration of a penis into an orifice. It was what one called it, what made someone light up and think back on it years and years later. When he was ten, before he made a terrible mistake and made Eugene feel ashamed of...being...himself... The two of them saw an R rated movie, which was a little ridiculous at that age, but then again they were at the Skullovitch house and nobody gave a rat's ass about what anyone did. It was a French film, something to do with one of the first great women artists; the opening scene involved the main actress undressing in the dark and sketching her own anatomy, followed less than twenty minutes later by multiple incidents of sex in a brothel. They didn't understand it, except on an intellectual level, but when the movie was over and he stayed the night in Eugene's room, they got...well, bored. And curious. Their sleep clothes remained on, but their soft hands traced the edges, legs twining, lips finding purchase and staying on with giggles and tickling, but also something tugging in their bellies they didn't have a name for. This is what Billy always thought about, when he thought of his first time, truly. But then...it felt too private. To share with other people. So when the issue came up in shared company, even with his best friends, he always just shrugged and hummed and changed the subject. And if truly pressed, he told them it was sorta-kinda with Matt, when they were fifteen, when there was a party at his house, and games among horny teenagers, and they got dared into a closet and Billy got...overexcited. Skull headcanons: Eugene knew what sex was in the old fashioned sense much sooner than was remotely deemed proper by most of society. His parents weren't exactly shy or quiet when they thought they were alone and had the house to themselves, and his father had the habit of leaving porn on when he shouldn't have. He had soft, wonderful memories of his first kisses and his first acts of almost with Billy, trying to find footing as puberty approached, but there was a sharp drop just before middle school when Billy cut him off and Eugene was alone before Bulk took him up like a stray. Then something terrible happened, when he was eleven, before Billy strayed. His father was moving drugs for people a lot more powerful than him, stopped over at the house with "business associates" for a drink while waiting for a call; Eugene happened to be there, happened to be dozing in his room with the TV playing some appalling music video on one of those MTV stations. He didn't hear one of those associates come into the room, didn't hear the door open...but he did hear the door click shut, and the sound of a zipper being pulled. There are hospital records on file with the date and injuries and stitches of that event that Skull has to very carefully not think about when asked, "How'd you lose your cherry?" Instead, he thinks about the time Bulk and he got overeager after playing a particularly large prank on Jason Scott and Zack Taylor coming out of the Juice Bar; out of breath and in Bulk's truck and full of energy they didn't know what to do with. Or he thinks about Candice, before the lie came out, before his world turned upside down; her sneaking them into a bathroom stall after one of those indie bands finished and she was excited as a puppy to pull up his shirt and taste him, hands wandering down under his underwear to squeeze at him with a little too much strength as his hands settled on her hips and he did his best to ignore the touch that left bruises as he breathed against her neck. He thinks about Billy and him finding each other again, tired and lonely in Billy's new place; hands pulling him into Billy's bedroom, their tongues deep inside of each other on the bed, panting and moaning and feeling the noise the mattress springs made under their combined weight.

[ajgrey9647]

For @augment-techs

Inspiration song is Snow in August from Nanny McPhee soundtrack...

[ajgrey9647]

Character Ask Game:

Blue and Orange with a Dash of Green/Quad Life Matt/Billy/Skull:

Do they have any injury stories? What is a topic they would be excited to talk about? What is a talent they wish they had? Do they have a high pain tolerance? What words could tear them down? Do they believe in myths and fairy tales? What is their favorite form of affection? Do they prefer company or solitude when sick? What animal would they say best represents them? What element best represents them? What food or drink do they consider a treat? Do they prefer restaurant food or home cooked food? Is there a type of object they don’t like? If they had to get a tattoo what would it be? What is something they would refuse to wear? What are their opinions on scars?

Sorry this took so long...but it was a lot of FUN!

Do they have any injury stories?

Matt: He has a faint scar on his scalp, situated on the upper back part of his head. It’s hard to see with his hair, but easily felt if one runs their hands through it. When they were children, roughly 9 to 10 years old, maybe, Matt was showing off in front of Jason and Zack, racing his bike up and down the street sans helmet of course, popping wheelies and taking his hands off the handlebars. It was all fun and games until he wiped out, cracking his skull of the pavement and opening a cut that took 7 stitches to close. The wound bled like hell, being a scalp injury and all; Jason had pressed his t-shirt to it while Zack ran back to Matt’s house to get his mom.

Billy: Almost concussed himself in the Command Center trying to repair the damage Tommy had caused when he was the evil Green Ranger and decided to go ham on all the consoles. In his haste and stress over the situation, he’d made a careless mistake and crossed the wrong wires. The resulting discharge knocked almost into the Viewing Globe. It was such a stupid and rare mistake that the gravity of what happened fully set in and for the first time during the clusterfuck, Kimberly burst into tears and Jason bellowed his first public f-bomb.

World of the Coinless Skull: Wow, this would be hard to narrow down. There were injuries aplenty in Drakkon’s bullshit world. Probably the most obvious would be volunteering for castration in order to join the Red Sentry guard. He’d earned other scrapes and bruises from various skirmishes as he worked undercover for the asshole. And when his ‘buddy’ Red discovered he was a Coinless spy, he’d done his share of damage. The pet had knocked Skull’s head around, splitting his lip and making his ears ring; however, for some reason, instead of  following up with a killing blow, Red had oddly dropped his hands, lowering his defenses just long enough for the injured Sentry captain to return the favor, rendering his frenemy unconscious so he could escape.

What is a topic they’d be excited to talk about?

Matt: Sports, sports, and more sports… the newest action movies… cars…

Billy: The intricacies of interdimensional travel… Promethea’s newest discoveries (the ones Grace allows him to share)… Theories of time lines and ‘canon events’…

World of the Coinless Skull: Photography, specifically modeling… the newest fashions… the appeal of vintage attire compared to modern day… In fact, now that he and Red have reunited in the Prime Universe, Skull models for him and their work is displayed on an anonymous website that has garnered a lot of attention. Eugene loves striking a pose in silky, Victorian inspired gowns, showing off his pale, almost translucent skin, the back of his still dark hair (never showing his face for obvious reasons). He loves uses props in the photos such as parasols, pocket watches, delicately painted hand fans, bouquets of Red’s roses… large old-fashioned hats, broaches and pearls…

What is a talent they wish they had?

Matt: He is quite inspired by Red’s photography and wishes he had the eye for detail that he and Eugene seem to have, the imagination to pull off the grand still-lifes that they capture. Hell, he even sometimes wishes he could sketch like Drakkon so he could draw Eugene in all the elaborate poses and costumes.

Billy: He wishes he were more coordinated when not morphed. As the Blue Ranger, he is able to balance, leap, twist, and flip in ways he can’t otherwise pull off.

Skull: He is working to manage his demons from his former life. Sure, he utilizes humor and witty comments but he actually wants to try to heal some of his inner wounds. When he and Red aren’t shooting their masterpieces, he is trying to teach Eugene some of the techniques of meditation and mindfulness that he’s read about in books, as well as journaling and other techniques he’s learned from his friend, Jane, the former camp store clerk who’d moved into a cabin down the road a few months after he, Tommy, Jason, and Drakkon moved into theirs.

“I think Jane was a therapist in another life,” Red jokes, not knowing the half of it.

Do they have a high pain tolerance?

Matt: Yes, playing sports and getting into stupid scraps has a way of toughening one up.

Billy: Somewhat, not as high as Matt and Skull by a long shot. And he can definitely take more damage when morphed. But he loves being babied by his partners, so a little distress isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

World of the Coinless Skull: Considering the world, he’d come from, Eugene definitely has a high pain tolerance, mentally and physically. It’s a special type of pain to watch your balls being removed and knowing you signed up for it… And Drakkon couldn’t have given a shit about making sure his future guards were given anxiety or pain medication prior to completing his ‘protocol’.

What words could tear them down?

Matt: Imposter, second choice, sloppy seconds when it comes to being selected to be a Ranger. Subpar… fake… not a ‘real’ Ranger.

Billy: Not good enough, failed, disappointment (if his smarts weren’t enough to solve a problem), weakling…

World of the Coinless Skull: Hearing the words that one of his partners have died… the first time, he’d almost thrown himself off Angel Pointe in his anguish.

Do they believe in myths and fairy tales?

Matt: He has some superstitious beliefs like step on a crack, break your mother’s back…don’t open an umbrella in the house… These annoy Billy sometimes because there is no scientific proof to support the statements.

Billy: Not really. He’s a man of science. But clearly there’s more than the eye can see, as evidenced by Grid energy (and their respective animals), etc… However, in his mind he can make the connections to skirt myths and fairy tales… He can back up the existence of such powers.

World of the Coinless Skull: Yes, considering he’d met the Jabberwocky, spending time in Satan’s den with Drakkon and Red and their fucked up, unexplainable shit. Who’d have foreseen someone as evil as Dictator Dick skipping along to take over and turn their world topsy turvey into some godforsaken black and white, American Gothic hellscape? Would fairy tales or myths really be so hard to believe in after all that clusterfuck?

What is their favorite form of affection?

Matt: Definitely physical, with hugs and kisses and hot sex, arms around the shoulder, ruffled hair…

Billy: Acts of service… he loves making his partners’ lives easier, especially Eugene’s after all he’s been through.

World of the Coinless Skull: He’s not so much on physical affection per se… it has to be the right circumstances. He is big on thoughtful gifts, especially anything homemade or even custom if he can manage it.

Do they prefer company or solitude when sick?

Matt: He prefers solitude as he’s used to be the friendly, big brother backbone for his partners and friends. He doesn’t want that to be tainted by them seeing him frail and fallible.

Billy: Company… he loves being babied by his partners and being sick or injured is a good excuse. He’s used to his smarts pulling them through much trial and tribulation as Rangers so its nice to be the one getting taken care of.

World of the Coinless Skull: He’s used to solitude in his old life. In the Coinless world, if you popped up sick or injured, you were essentially already dead depending on the severity. No one else wanted to risk catching your cooties and taking a dirt nap along with you. Most times, the sentiment was ‘Piss on you.’ It was every bastard for himself. But when Red lovingly tended him, bathing his feverish body in cool baths, sponging the sick sweat off his flesh, spooning broth into his mouth…it made things seem more hopeful. It was nice to be cared for, though odd. He’s working on getting comfortable allowing his Prime partners to be there for him as Red once was…

What animal would they say best represents them?

Matt: A labrador retriever… excitable, loyal, nutty, fun-loving…

Billy: A wise old owl, for obvious reasons…

World of the Coinless Skull: Red often referred to Eugene as a ‘little rabbit’ and he wasn’t too far off when equating him with something small and timid in appearance. However, Skull was resourceful, cunning, and could be mean as fuck if the situation warranted… He was lanky, unassuming, sometimes amusing to watch… Billy was the one who mentioned Skull reminded him of a mongoose and it just seemed to resonate. Especially when he learned about being impervious to snake venom…

“Hell, I think I rolled with the most dangerous snakes to ever exist…and I didn’t die.”

What element best represents them?

Matt: Much like the OG Jason Scott, Matt is fire…warm, compassionate, athletic… daring, fun, dedicated to his partners and friends with a ferocity that could be frightening.

Billy: He is air…intelligent, quick thinking, ambitious… can appear cool at times or detached though that is often not the case at all.

World of the Coinless Skull: Like Red, Eugene is water. Creative, whimsical, intuitive, colorful in personality. It was pity he had to cover much of it for so long as a merciless Sentry captain… Now that he is free to be himself, to heal his interior world, he and Red are growing closer as friends due to their overlapping artistic interests and talents. As Red had been learning under Jane’s tutelage, meditation and mindfulness helped to center his mind when the ‘bad thoughts’ started howling. He and Skull can sometimes be found out on the back deck, sitting cross legged with their fingers held in specific positions, eyes closed, and faces lifted towards the sky.

What food or drink do they consider a treat?

Matt: Pastries… cake, cookies, muffins…donuts… Milkshakes. All the ‘bad’ stuff.

Billy: Has a secret love for sour candy.

World of the Coinless Skull: Compared to fare in the Coinless world, everything here is a treat… but he loves cotton candy, elephant ears, popcorn, waffles with lots of syrup, whipped cream…gum, of course… cream sodas… pizza…

Do they prefer restaurant or home-cooked food?

Matt: He loves going out to eat…Mostly because dishes are the bane of his existence.

Billy: Home-made as one can never be sure of the cleanliness of what’s going on with the food when it’s out of sight.

World of the Coinless Skull: Home-made for similar reasons, but also with the concern for what someone might be doing to your meal or slipping inside it without your knowledge…poisons, pills, cum, shit, boogers… None of that was beneath his former cohorts in the Sentry guard.

Is there a type of object they don’t like?

Matt: Anything that has an instruction manual thicker than a phone book or takes hours to put together…has lots of pieces…

Billy: Things with Velcro. The sound is gross… Things that don’t have a specific purpose.

World of the Coinless Skull: He has a similar mindset to Red… things with loud noises, flashing lights… fast or unpredictable movements… highly detailed or involved electronics… He’s of the mind that simpler is better just like Red. They understand this well about one another.

If they had to get a tattoo what would it be?

Matt: Something large over his back, probably a ‘sick’ dragon design coming out of the water… You know, on the grand scale…

Billy: Unsure about permanent ink… would have to be meaningful…and small… and easily hidden. Something intimate that his partners know about.

World of the Coinless Skull: You only live once so he’d have fun with it… tramp stamp… a corset style ribbon threading his flesh down his spine, a constellation on his ribs…A large open vintage pocket watch with the date and time he’d arrived in the Prime Universe: December 31st at 11:59 pm.

What is something they would refuse to wear?

Matt: Underwear…why bother? Save time going commando. And no lines in the Ranger silk…

Billy: Wool… too hot and itchy.

World of the Coinless Skull: Underwear… Again, why bother? Unless it’s something artistic for his photos with Red, like a g-string, garters, and thigh high stockings… or a lacy number juxtaposed with an old fashioned petticoat and skirts… oh or a leather piece with a bustier…

What are their opinions on scars?

Matt: Bad-ass… Macho… Intimidating… in other words, ‘rock on’.

Billy: He prefers to hide his own, but his eyes love to trace the ones decorating Eugene’s naked flesh like lady’s lace.

World of the Coinless Skull: They tell a story… a personal history… In his and Red’s case, it was a chronicle of their own private hell. Now that they are free (and sane), they swap stories about the various marks marring their bodies that they were too polite or oblivious to ask before. Though it sometimes makes Eugene hate Drakkon more, despite his turning over a new leaf, and even Tommy earns a side-eye, it releases some of the venom polluting the darkest places in their souls.

[augment-techs]

SONG LYRICS PROMPT: Hey they found a body//Not sure it was his but they’re using his name; (Past the Mission, by Tori Amos)

Billy and Skull?? PWEASE?!

Apologies for the delay, but @skyland2703 and @lordkingsmith are gonna have to share this...brick.

Rita grinned with the onset of the best kind of idea. Her plan could still follow through, exactly perfect as-is; untouched... But the Blue Ranger was practically daring her to call his bluff. Who was she not to teach Zordon's little children a lesson? * * Yeah, the lady that had been standing over Matt in the chaos of a monster attack sure hadn't been an ambulance driver or EMT. Skull had to resist every urge inside his body not to roll his eyes and sigh heavily when Matt woke up from where the witch, Rita Repulsa as she'd been introduced by the little blue man that had slapped cuffs on Skull's wrists first thing, had him suspended and--of course--immediately overreacted. He kept his mouth shut when Matt woke up and flinched back with all the grace of a startled puppy, edging away on his rear into a wall trying to get away from the tall...bat? spider?...presenting alien that Rita called Baboo. He'd screamed a little and it hurt Skull's ears, aggravating the small channel of pain already forming behind his eyes as the blue one--Squatt--assisted Baboo in cornering Matt and getting cuffs on him from behind. It would have been nice to be able to help the poor, stupid jock, but Skull was infinitely aware of the limited options available to them. On the moon, protected from the vacuum of space only because of the witch's power or alien technology, only probably allowed to live because they might be useful--otherwise Squatt and Baboo would have simply struck Matt to get him to settle down, rather than trying to wrangle him into submission. And the witch had her eye on Skull in his corner of her throne room, Goldar towering only a few feet away with the chain to his cuffs in hand. If Skull acted rashly, if he made a move without any means of defense or ability to get away, he wasn't completely certain that Rita needed both of them alive. He'd have to be smart about this. Looking away from Rita and Goldar, the pain in his head pulsing as Matt stated the absolute obvious about being on the moon, Skull tried not to be too cruel, even in his mind, at the note that if he wasn't smart about whatever came next, Matt certainly wasn't going to be. * * A very beautiful woman. An order from the Empress.  A face split perfectly down the middle as Baboo gave a potion in the exchange of the two humans.  Two faces, two bodies, their mind (minds) no longer connected as Finster's clay was stretched thin and resolved to accomodate the creation of one from the other. Not quite like, but not so different from a tree dropping a ripened fruit to seed and make another. One went to the hospital bed the Rangers would be visiting as the fight with another monster died down. He/They would have to figure out things very quickly, having only the bare essentials for interacting with people and no knowledge about the parents that would pick up "Matthew" and take him home, the sister that would hug him full-body around his middle; the girlfriend who came with flowers and kisses; the dear friend he'd known since childhood glad he was alright. (He would be confused, the delay of information from his Empress causing a few more small problems that would turn into small gifts. He would be confused by the worry, and the fear, and...oh, the word was guilt. He wouldn't want to leave.) One went to the house given as addressed in the wallet of the leather coat Baboo had checked in the trade of bodies. There were three little orange bottles as well, with pills clacking around inside; but They/He were not "Skull" and didn't need them. They set them in the medicine cabinet of the boy's bathroom down the hall from the bedroom that had his homework on the table with his name written on them. And then he searched out information on the Rangers, their families, Skull's family (what bitterness and farce that was spoken with as the Putty scoured the house and phone and internet and found they weren't even in the boy's life often enough to be called such a thing), Farkas Bulkmeier; carrying on to history of the world, science, literature,

cooking channels, the TV in general, music-music-music--Skull had little sheets of music hidden everywhere in his room, rolled up or folded. It was impossible for the Putty in his place not to see the appeal. (They were much less surprised by the lack of information Rita would give them on Eugene Skullovitch, Bulk, Matt, the Rangers. But Skull's Putty found journals reaching backwards by over a decade, and it wasn't like it was all that difficult to change shape in the darkest, loneliest part of the night to go and ransack the Ranger's houses and find out their secrets in a similar fashion. They would learn more than Rita and Finster ever thought they could. They would leave on their own.) * * While Kim was worried over Matt's odd walking and the way he seemed to halt and stammer, change what he was going to say, Zack hovering nearby as one of his older friends that worried, but differently than Kim; Billy was occupied with his own concerns. That tiff he and Skull had on Angel Day should have earned him the wounded puppy look from the other, even after his confrontation with the Blue Ranger almost sneering that Skull was never going to be anything like a Ranger. He should have been receiving buckets of slop in his locker or more water balloons to the back of the head in the morning. But Skull seemed...off. When he asked for the signatures for Bulk to run for Homecoming, the smile had seemed forced, his offer of the board and paper much more hesitant and then like he'd scored a goal in basketball with Zack and Trini signing it. When Bulk patted Skull on the back, his shoulders seemed to widen outward with the blades pitching his coat up, anticipating pain, and blinked awkwardly when Bulk asked if there was something wrong. He'd said, "Sorry. Sorry, I thought...that I, uh, had to sneeze." And when Billy found himself with the others at the Juice Bar, enjoying themselves and the like, he would feel eyes following him. When he turned, sometimes Skull was eating with Bulk (not his usual fair, either--none of the malts he loved, or the fries with ranch and ketchup; but that peanut butter candy Ernie couldn't get anyone to eat unless it was half off, or the chocolate-sauerkraut cake that Kim dared Bulk into eating without telling him what it was once) and seemed perfectly at ease and normal. But it seemed as the days carried, Skull didn't care if he met Billy's eye--he stared right back, almost cold, until Billy looked away; his shoulders up by his ears and the fine hairs on his neck standing on end. It wouldn't have been so bad, if his brain didn't keep reminding him about Angel Day, like it was somehow important. "...Because Power Rangers see everything. Everything..." * * The watch on Skull's wrist was the only thing that allowed the two in the shared cell--for the first five days, then Finster made a suggestion that the witch took credit for--to judge just how long they were on the moon, how long the two Putties were doing...whatever they were doing. A blessing and a curse. Skull could calculate how long Matt would take to heal from his concussion after he insisted the other calm the fuck down before he threw a clot--and how long they could go without imbibing in the food and water Squatt and Baboo brought around each day at what the watch said was noontime, seeming blasé rather than terrified they were being poisoned or obstinate to annoy their Empress. It was harder to use time to tell him when Rita herself came around, when she would wave that stick and snap her fingers and suddenly Matt thought she was Kim and the only thing Skull could think to do was trade Matt's pleasure at seeing his girlfriend for pain. Punching the jock in the stomach, kicking his feet out from under him, wrenching his own arms nearly out of their sockets to reach out and to snap Matt out of it wasn't the dream come true that most would have expected. Every time Matt came to himself, he still said something stupid, just not what Rita was hoping for and got locked back up in his own chains on the wall. Rita, of

course, tried the same spell on Skull, but... Another blessing and a curse: they'd taken his medication that treated his migraines, his anxiety, and his clinical depression. Her first attempts hadn't done shit and she'd gone away angry that he'd laughed in her face, startling her minions out of the way and leaving Skull on the long chain to curl up in a corner and think about escape while also trying to remain calm and pointedly not think about how utterly fucked he was going to be if they were there longer than two more days. (Which they were, and which he was.) This turned over mostly into keeping Matt calm, otherwise he started yelling for Squatt or Baboo to let them out. Or he made stupid demands, trying to call Rita or Goldar into the cell--like he could fight them and they could get away ('Idiot'). This was not an act of bonding, their being in the cell together for hours and days and weeks. They had nothing in common except going to the same high school and gravitating around the same people in a way.  Case in point: they could have been tortured, fully and truly; knives and splayed on a rack and run through with nails--but they weren't. They were fed adequately, given water, allowed access to a toilet. They only had to deal with Goldar hissing threats at them through the bars when Skull had to pull a back breaking maneuver to get in range and divert Matt's attention and Rita took her anger out on her minions. They only had to be polite with the others for the short amount of time they came to perform their duties or ask their own questions about Earth--which Skull happily supplied; because he knew how to read people, and this lot had been trapped in their own prison for thousands of years until recently. As long as personal information wasn't exchanged, Skull answered whatever they asked, paying no mind to the look that Matt always threw his way--as if Skull was the idiot playing into a trap. And still, Matt thought this was unbearable. Being in space and being asked the same questions, and Skull offering up word games and history lessons and anecdotes that couldn't be used against them even if the witch and her underlings ever touched down on Earth just to see the sights or stepped into the cells without intent. Skull was free to lie.  (This was the worst thing that had ever happened to Matt up to this point in his life. This meant nothing to Skull; didn't even make it to his Top 10 life events.) When the fourth day rolled around, he insisted Matt drink the water if Skull did and nothing happened--which it didn't--which pleased Baboo enough to maneuver Matt's chains so he could lay or sit down rather than stand all day long. (Thankfully he didn't try to attack the potion master.) On the fifth day, when the shaking from withdrawal hit Skull like a truck, he wheedled Matt into eating some of the food, keeping eye contact so that the guilt of how pathetic Skull looked really drove home, "If you don't eat, how can I eat? It wouldn't be right." Squatt was more than happy to let Skull keep an entire pitcher of water, as well as an empty pail, when Matt ate the food with no problems, but Skull couldn't keep anything down, waving off Matt's concern and the alien's thought to call on Finster or Baboo, "I'm fine, this is normal." (Like biting at his nails, the inside of his cheek, and--when Matt was asleep--parts of his arms to keep himself from screaming was normal.) Then Rita had the humans separated and damn if Skull could have kept his anxiety at bay if he'd tried. Skull still kept track of days. Still kept an ear out for Matt--just down the hall, but out of reach for Skull's interference when Rita visited, every day at cockerel by Skull's estimation--and still thought about escape. Another five days; his hands shook, he sweat like a fever was raging in him even as he felt freezing to the touch, he couldn't sleep until his body wore itself to exhaustion, he always drank the water and still never felt like it was enough regardless of the pitcher Squatt kept leaving; food was no comfort in

his belly and the witch stopped visiting his cell after he'd retched at her feet--twice. By the time a plan aligned in his head, perfect as a polished diamond and likely to run smooth as silk, he had realized that it was Homecoming, had realized through quiet observation exactly why Rita kept asking questions--asking for secrets--about Matt's friends; and was miserable and sick as ever as he went through the motions. He had to time it with the kind of math skills Billy probably would have been proud of: removing his coat to fold it neatly where he could grab it in a hurry, removing his shirt to soak it in the water pitcher, wrapping it between the bars with the chain he'd picked out of its bearing with a spike stud from his jacket held firm in the center. The wet cloth covered up the sounds of the bars bending-bending-bending just enough that he could fit through them, and once that was done, he wound the chain up to carry it with him. The shirt was left behind, and he didn't put his coat back on until he was out of the cell and hiding just outside Matt's own holding area in the shadows with his chains. When Squatt unlocked the door, Skull's head was full to the brim with agony, pain enough to make him not care about what just might happen to him if he was caught, but a little voice in his head that sounded like the Blue Ranger--ah, huh--kept him aware that freedom wasn't too far away, and Matt had a family, and Skull couldn't be selfish. The chain wrapped twice around Squatt's middle, binding his arms, and once around his neck, drawing his eyes up to Skull's blank looking smile--far more terrifying than he'd been days before and with nothing to lose but his life if they got caught. "I'd like it very much if you'd let us go home now." (Matt had gotten out of his own predicament with a fork Squatt and Baboo had left behind, had been waiting in the shadows himself; and Skull was glad he didn't have to do much but stand behind Squatt with the chains as Matt threatened to small alien and implied it was better that they left before Squatt could be blamed for it.) * * Skull--or the Putty that was revealed as it pealed back part of the face it had been wearing for weeks--glanced over his shoulder at the heavily panting young men in the doorway. He paid no mind to the motion of his colleague running through the crowd towards the other end of the school, dropping his bowtie on the gymnasium floor in a mad rush to get away.  Bulk's date, and the girl that was meant to be Skull's who wrote just terrible poetry, and the surrounding students backed away in an ever growing, nervous circling pattern that reminded the Putty of that movie he'd watched alone in the Skullovitch house; some sort of deep sea documentary about sharks being noticed by lesser fish.  The Rangers that were far more concerned with the Putty-Matt harming the integrity of their group dynamics--or whatever--took off after the much more volatile of Finster's creations; only the Blue one standing still and looking between the two in the doorway (Cook having to be lowered to the ground by Skullovitch, the jock breathing heavier and faster and showing all the signs of those lovely panic attacks that the Putty-Skull had read up on; Skullovitch himself with a vacant expression, gaunt and drained but still trying to retain some control of the situation for the jock's sake) and Bulk on stage. With a little head tilt, the Putty-Skull looked over to find Bulk looking an interesting cross between what humans must have categorized as horrified, and grotesquely aware of...well, everything. But unlike his fellow, he wasn't going to panic. He'd planned for this. Raising his hands above his head in the 'surrender' pose, he made complete eye contact with Cranston. "Your old friend's been off his meds for ten days. He should see a doctor." And then he clapped his hands perfectly above his head and turned into a swarm of every beady-eyed, long-legged, chittering creature he could think of, spreading out among the students most likely to scream the

loudest (they did not disappoint) and festering very-very-very carefully back into a uniform shape under the food tables in the dark where nobody would think to look in the chaos that truly followed. On four legs with a fluffy tail (he admired the predators from the snow covered mountains in the late night shows he'd watched when Farkas fell asleep, so what) and green eyes that glowed, the No-Longer-Skull-Putty paused, just a moment, to look back. He wasn't surprised to find Farkas had jumped off the stage and gone straight to the two injured parties in the doorway, tearing off his jacket to place on Cook's shoulders as he'd started to shake like a baby doll on a washing machine; the boy could be considerate with his hidden talents of knowing what other people needed.  The Putty was surprised to find Cranston doing the same for Skull even as he was being summoned by the other Rangers, the perturbed young man completely out of his depth pulling Violet over to the three and asking her to watch them until he got back; his rented jacket an almost sorry sight on Skull's too calm, too thin shoulders, but appreciated from the nod the real Skull gave him as Billy disappeared down the hallway. Skull himself just tried to make himself comfortable, tightening Billy's coat over his terrible shaking frame, letting Bulk pull him into his side much like a massive wolf checking on a newborn pup; Violet being the only one with enough sense to call paramedics as it became more obvious than not that one or both of the boys were in shock--or going into shock, which was worse. The Putty turned away and made for the hallway his fellow had bounded down; not one of the scattering students paying mind to the fox-coyote-wolf, bound-tuck-roll-leap and then a woman in black that the much more in control Putty was better accustomed to. The only change was in the eyes. From carnal, terrible red, into the kind of grey that soaked into the bottom of a river--she'd come to like the color. * "Change your face, you idiot." The tension that was set to snap and bite for days now, standing on the precipice, went limp and hovered instead as the Rangers that had been facing the Matt-Putty turned their heads just so to find footsteps nearing them with a figure. Jason remained at the ready, blocking the Putty that was the cause of their rage from the exit, but only Billy actually moved to mirror the Red Ranger at the approach of the not-Skull Putty that was almost enjoying the knowledge that at least Cranston could recognize the real danger. The no-longer Matt looked at his sibling like he was an actual human, with anguish washing over his face as he tweaked his features to something a little sharper, hair a little darker and long down his shoulders, but retained a image still not too different from Cook himself--perhaps he could have passed for an older sibling or a cousin. It didn't stop Kimberly from keeping her bow in a position to fire again, but the black haired Putty wasn't expecting that to change anytime soon. Not-Matt had sucked face with the Pink Ranger, so the girl was obliged to be more pissed off than the others had been. Which was fair, when it came right down to it. Zack and Trini looked between the two, twinning like butterfly wings, and the elder of the two Putties made sure that their face was more like Skull's (they kept the hair long, though, and the high heels) to smile with all of their suddenly very sharp teeth, lips drawn back ("Oh Grandma, what sharp teeth you have,") at their trying to form a plan. "Well, I suppose this is a bit of an awkward situation for you," Not-Skull started off, voice carefully curated to the exact way Eugene Skullovitch would sound if he was even a tenth of what his life experiences should have made him into, "Two people you sort-of care about abducted and traded out right under your nose? You must be feeling just awful right now, eh?" They kept their hands in their coat pockets, smoothly changing the color of their suit to as black as they could think to go (a little shiny

rather than matte; they were going for intimidating after all and had paid attention in the science classes they'd had to attend) and kept their posture downright perfect. Lifting their head a little, they looked at their sibling and almost sneered, without sympathy and doing their best to mimic Eugene's brother the one time the Skull-Putty had seen him in the Skullovitch house, asking "Eugene" if he was being an idiot and gone off his meds (the little pills had come again in the mail, little doubles of the ones still in the cabinet, been sitting on the dining room table; the Putty had nearly changed shape when the man had come up behind him in the morning and smacked the back of his head before leaving again; the Putty-Skull had been angry and bitter for the rest of that day) with the simplest inquiry, "Why are you still here? You don't want to fight them, so just leave." Jason in his red suit with his posture slowly coming down from rigid steel, They could tell, seemed almost stupefied when the Matt-Putty answered, despairing and still with Matt's voice, "The... The Empress..." The Not-Skull-Not-Woman-Putty sighed, most dramatic and disappointed, pulling a sharp, old fashioned shaving razor--Sweeny Todd's My Friends rang out in Billy's head, a memory of Skull's terrible father keeping them like buried treasure in his bathroom in a locked box that none of the family went near, even years after the man was dead (Billy prayed he was dead, still, to this day) or in prison somewhere far beyond the reach of the American Justice System--out of it's coat pocket, opening it with a flick of the wrist, "You really are an idiot." Then it cut its own throat, all the way through, grabbed its long hair like a rope, and tossed itself with Skull's face and disappointed look still painting its visage right into the Matt-Putty's hands. Kim finally sheathed her bow to step away, her back to Billy's and Trini's to Zack while Jason seemed to tighten his stance even more; their fight or flight instinct screaming as the black hair from the Not-Skull-Not-Skull (NOTNOTNOTSKULL--Billy was going to be sick, he was going to be so sick; the thing's body was still standing up and tossing the razor from one had to the other like a juggler) wound tight around the Not-Matt's neck and face, sharpened like claws and pulled something out of its neck. The Not-Matt gurgled in pain before tossing the head back to its owner's body, their hand going to the puncture wound as Billy and Zack had to tamp down the urge to vomit on the spot with the Not-Skull replacing its head--smiling at them when the sounds of the neck realigning stopped. But the wound in Not-Matt's neck closed up with ease, like any Putty, and it--he?--looked back at the elder of the two, some kind of amazed look flashing in their eyes. "Now, go away little brother," the other Putty spoke with something of an unhinged echo, losing its features, the thing it had grabbed folding into it, black and vile as a potion taking hold (which it was, because not everything in the world can be fixed so easily) causing insidious veins to streak over its skin like lightning strikes, "A fight still has to be had here." None of the Rangers expected the tidal wave of what felt like moss and sand that the Not-Skull Putty turned into to push them out into the school courtyard away from the Homecoming teens still scrambling to go out the other exits. It was almost as if catching them and pulling them out the door as the Not-Matt Putty turned into a magpie and flew out the door and off into the sky, getting them out of the way of causing massive damage to the property and putting lives at risk was on purpose before Rita took hold. (Billy knew it was. Rolling over and over, no weapon in reach and blind in the dark of the mass pushing them away from the building, the Putty had every opportunity to crush them like ants in a square of toilet paper. Pop them so their blood mixed with the clay and be done with it. But it didn't; because even if it was the darkest reflection that Rita could make,

full of craft, and cunning, and hatred--it was still a being that was made in Skull's image.) * * Tears ran down Billy's face as he rode with Zack to the hospital, the older boy still on his cell with Violet as she awaited them outside the entrance to the ER where the paramedics had taken the former hostages of the moon. He didn't make a sound, just looking out the window with his head in his palm as the streets passed by in a blur; and thought on the little snippets of rage and truth the Putty had hurled at the Rangers before Rita truly took over and they'd defeated it in the Megazord. Well, defeat was possibly a stretch... "My comrade spent ten days learning the brighter side of human habits, but I had stuff to actually do. I broke into your homes and went through your dirty little secrets. It was easy." With a sense of impotence, the object of her previous rage out of reach, Kim took the first shot--quite literally--energy arrow loosed for the Putty's head as she picked herself up from behind an almost totaled Honda Civic. The Putty changed shape, fluid, but somehow sharp to the eye under the moon; split its head in two and Kim was faced with who Billy had seen earlier in the night, when he and the Matt-Putty had picked up the girls. Mr. and Mrs. Hart sharing one hideous amorphous body as it advanced on Kim. She was too shocked to dodge when its arm snatched her out of the air from the flying kick she couldn't curl out of, twining muck and claws around pink before taking aim and tossing her as high as it could--not at anything; just up. "Kim, dear, you really should stop worrying about whether or not your parents are going to break up, and cheer when they finally go through with that divorce. They're spoiled, they're rich, and it'll be a cold day in hell when they put your needs before sniping at each other." Kim couldn't help it; she screamed on the way down--before Jason caught her and rolled over by a thatch of trees. The Putty didn't give him time to comfort her, or even get out of the way, as it pried a tire out from the car that was already damaged (Billy thought it might have been Marleau Eskin's) and managed to hit a tree branch, just above them. The mass of wood and leaves fell right atop Jason and Kim, pinning them as the Putty approached, menacing and changing its face to what could have passed as a much older Jason, except Jason never looked that...contemptable. Like he'd never been less impressed. It certainly worked on Jason. Kim felt all of his muscles tense and coil at the same time, arms wrapped protectively around her as the others tried to get up and over to them as the Putty continued on. "Jason--maybe you should let your father suffer a little when those doctor's tests finally come in. This might be karma's way of making up for him being a piece of shit that condescends to you when you're trying your best, despite his massive failings." The Black Ranger almost seemed to come out of nowhere, his suit blending perfectly on the tarmac as he swung his axe and cleaved the Putty's raised arm from where it was changing into some kind of ball full of spikes. But it did very little as the face changed again, back into the black haired woman as the arm simply scuttled over and grabbed at Zack's foot, earning a change from axe to cannon--Zack even managed to pull the trigger and burn off one end of it as it changed into a weird cross between an eel and massive ant, crawling up his leg and squeezing his calf before he bashed it, kicked it. Almost made it seem like he wasn't trying to keep the Putty's attention as Trini stayed low and quiet fifteen feet away, circling the others like Billy and trying to get a better position. The Woman-With-Half-of-Skull's-Face-Putty seemed unnaturally amused as its appendage lost interest and wriggled back over to attach to the stump it left behind, "Zack, oh, what is there to say about you? Your inferiority complex will die down once it becomes glaringly obvious that the others would be pretty fucked without you. Some of your jokes could use a

little work, though." Billy could almost see the way the Putty was losing itself with every sentence, simply moving a step back when Trini came up from behind and missed the mark of its back. It swayed and just sort of...batted Trini into Zack with the kind of indifference an aged cat on its last life had towards a baby bird that literally fell into its path. One swipe and both of them were out of the way; Billy could almost feel sorry for it as he got into position and the stump reattached itself. The black was still growing and the voice was shallow," Trini, I just...go to therapy. Your parents are great, your siblings are nice, but that weird superpower army brats have to tuck away feelings you had for people, and being okay with losing them every couple of years? I'm not even a month old, and I know that's fucked up." The Blue Ranger took a breath and, after the Putty swatted at Zack and Trini one more time, took his shot. His Power Lance hit the space along the Putty's arm that was trying to merge beyond the black, Billy levering it up so he could charge up the electric conduits at hit it through the middle, maybe slow it down. But then they--the creature with Skull's face (Eugene never looked like that, never never never, no matter how badly Billy behaved when he was embarrassed of the other for trying his best when nobody was there for him anymore--stopstopstopFOCUS)--looked at Billy and... And then the Blue Ranger was on the ground; Billy could almost imagine the colors his stomach would be over the next week from the hit he took. He looked up to find the Putty tossing the lance away, like trash, stepping forward. "Oh, and you should all probably keep an eye on Matty," the Putty sneered this, viciously going after Billy, trying to rend him through with arms made out like lobster claws, ripping apart the parking lot instead when it kept missing, going on with vitriol as the others tried to get up from where it had tossed them after each round of not-even-remotely-friendly advice, "He's probably going to be doubly annoying after all of this." Billy wasn't sure where his voice came from, low and angry and raw after being blocked up for the better part of half an hour in the fighting and pushing down bile, but the way the Putty kept hedging over the subject of the issue at hand had pissed him off, "And Eugene? What about him?" The claw that had been raised was still pulsing with the black that signaled Rita's immanent possession of the Putty, but the Putty itself had paused its assault to really look at Billy. Look down at him with so much exhaustion and hatred and outrage that Billy had almost started crying on the first word. The words and the Putty turning into a mirror image of the Blue Ranger, voice a perfect echo of his own and slamming the last nail into the coffin of any doubt Billy might have had about any of this concerning Skull, left Billy motionless as the Putty towered over him, but didn't make a move again to kill. "What about Eugene? Why Billy-Billy-Billy BONES... I thought Power Rangers could see everything." Billy could have died. But then the Putty said one last thing, slipping between the guise of the Blue Ranger, the guise of Skull, the guise of a woman, Rita slipping her control over it entirely just as the last words left Billy to feel as if he was choking on ashes. "I suppose you'll just have to wonder about Eugene. Which is more than anyone else, excluding Farkas but including Matty, will ever do." Rita had seemed too amused by the mental and emotional anguish her Putties had inflicted on the Rangers that she didn't seem to mind when her control of the elder one lapsed in the last moments of their battle. She didn't send down more monsters, she didn't broadcast her contempt through her magic screaming through the air like a demonic sound system radio. The absolute monster of a Putty had fallen in a great mass under the Megazord's fire and beating, but the Not-Matt Now-Magpie Putty had flown back from the safety of wherever it had been hiding, to the

swiftly decaying corpse; it had pecked, and scratched, and cried out pitifully while the Rangers looked on from their positions in their giant metal knight. Every last one of them stopped breathing when a little grey clump started wriggling out of where a red eye had been, falling to the ground by the other in a heap. The Magpie-Putty had stood perfectly still, watching what became a little black Fox-Putty form, stand to its feet.... The Rangers let them go, watched them disappear into the alleys they all knew led away from town. They seemed to come to a mutual, silent agreement, that those Putties were too...much. They seemed genuine and hurt and sad, and maybe they deserved to live. If they came back, they would deal with it then. But they had friends to see in the hospital. * * The room that held Matt was full of people and activity, joy at him being pronounced as only slightly dehydrated, sporting old bruising and chafing at the wrists, lightly sedated so he wouldn't keep trying to get out of bed to go look for Kim and the others; his parents worried at the frenzied way he clung to his girlfriend and Zack when they got to his bed first. But they were glad to tell Trini and Jason, in the interim that Matt would be signed off to go home the next morning. Violet had ridden along with the two boys, had waited outside the ER with the coats they'd been given tucked around her arm for safe keeping, had greeted Zack bashfully when he'd given her one of his patented bear hugs and had her lead the way to Matt's room. She'd been a little nervous, however, when Billy stopped outside the busy room, slightly annoyed despite himself even while he was still grateful Matt was gonna be alright--a spiteful, hideous part of himself was angry that he knew the words Violet was going to say before she even said them. "He's on a different ward," she said very quietly as she handed him a slip of paper with the room number on it, also giving him the rented jacket he'd given to Skull that felt soaked in little spots along the back, "The doctors wanted to give him more tests and were only letting Bulk in the room because he's listed as his emergency contact and...other things." "So you're saying they can't get a hold of the mother or brother, can they?"  He didn't mean to seem cold, like frost, but he'd already had to stop himself from crying twice inside the hospital at all the happy faces, and he was merely asking the question as a courtesy. Nobody could ever get in contact with the mother Skullovitch unless they were one of her clients; Stan Skullovitch was probably across state lines with his band or whatever he was doing since last Billy bothered to know.  Violet shook her head and Billy nodded once, closing his eyes and barely stopped himself from saying, 'Of course.' * * The door to 274 was a mellow sepia color, like all the doors bordered by brackish blue painted walls on the Psych Ward.  Billy knew it wasn't locked, because this floor didn't have bolts or buttons or door jambs. He could have stepped through without pause or warning or care. But that would be wrong. He knocked once, tapped twice, knocked three more times. This was an old habit, a memory of days gone by when trust was given freely and Billy wasn't sick with guilt and shame, when they really were just children and weren't walking the edges of strangers with memories. "Come in, Cranston," came Bulk's voice after a moment, no barbs and soft to the ears. Taking a breath, letting it out, Billy did just that, door opened, door closed, and stepped into the room. It was dark. It was clean. It was silent and warm as a womb. (Which was the point; a lot of the hospital nurses and attendants knew Skull, knew Bulk, knew this would help the young man get better faster. Never mind just how they knew.) Bulk was resting upright, book in hand whose title Billy couldn't see from the uncomfortable angle he held it, but that mattered far less than Skull's position. Bulk would never put anything before that, even before...everything

else. Skull looked so small in the white hospital gown, piercings removed from his ears, no watch or coat or clothes to make him seem bigger than he actually was. His hair had already been a mess when Billy had seen him at Homecoming, but Bulk had been--and still was--running fingers through it on a loop. Grey eyes blinked over at Billy from where Skull had been watching his hand rise and fall over Bulk's stomach with each breath, ear tucked against Bulk's barrel chest to listen for his heartbeat, while the rest of him curled up against Bulk's side like the saddest baby deer in the world. The bags under his eyes looked like purple thumbprint bruising against the white of his skin, and almost a hideous flourish when he looked at Billy and managed a smile. "Hey-ey-ey, Bill-y-y-y-y," the escapee from the moon spoke for the first time that evening (for ten days, tententenTEN DAYS, you blind cunt) to the other, lifting his arm away from Bulk's belly to wave him over with a droopy hand, fingers trying to curl and just kind of twitching, "How'd the f-f-fight go? You get to use th-...the Zord thingies?" The silence of the room was a lot less comforting as three facts hit Billy all at once: The door did not lock; a doctor had failed to use the right dosage of sedative to lead Skull into sleep and left him in what basically amounted to a weird combo of drunk and high; Bulk was looking him in the eye with the attitude of someone who knew everything. The guilt still stood tall over every other emotion in Billy, though. Even more-so than the anxiety and fear. And he wasn't going to run away. ...Bulk set down the book on the side table bolted to the floor and pointed towards the chair closest to the door that held Skull's belongings in a giant black cotton canvas bag, his own book bag and homecoming jacket there as well, "You might want to block the door for this." Billy wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, even if its level of civility radiating off of Bulk was unusual, it was also a chance to calm himself down as he moved the objects to give them half a modicum of privacy, before turning back to approach the side of the bed with Skull facing out. His hand was still absently swatting the air, fingers twitching like a spider's legs as it died, and it became fairly apparent that he wanted his hand held when Bulk jerked his head from Billy's own empty hand to the one Skull was reaching out to him.  When he did hold the hand, he was surprised that Skull managed to jerk him into the bed, making Skull the sardine in the box between Bulk and the outed Blue Ranger--even if the position was exceptionally precarious until Bulk scooted a little over so he was on his side and Skull's back followed after him. Billy barely felt Skull's ankle twine between his own legs as the drugged up punk hummed peacefully at the new position, finally warming up between the two bodies and more comfortable than he'd probably been in years--regardless of the situation, he couldn't have asked for more. And he was still smiling when he spoke again to break the tension; Bulk's internal firestorm buzzing to be unleashed since the whispers in the ambulance spoken in exhausted urgency, Billy's internal snowstorm building up inside of him with all the apologies and things he couldn't confirm and words he couldn't say wanting to break loose since those Putties stepped into the dark. "I don't think you can...say anythin' to con-confirm or deny-y-y the...color coding ya got goin' on," his words were really painful to both Billy and Bulk, drawing out and fading in because his tongue wasn't responding to his commands; the insomnia he'd been suffering on the moon probably didn't help either, "The witchy-witch was kinda...weird abou' that. But, like, when she played dress up wit' yer faces...wasn' hard to guess. Kinda worried 'bout Matt figurin' it out. But Matt's dumb." No argument was heard on either side of him at that. Billy was finding it harder and harder not to cry as Skull continued smiling, holding his hand and curling so

he was nestled between his two favorite people. He'd pulled Bulk's arm around his middle with his free hand and tucked his head under Billy's chin. "Glad he's dumb," was mumbled into Billy's shirt, earning the first smile Bulk had probably made in hours as Billy snorted into Eugene's hair while he wrapped his own free arm around the underside of Skull's middle to mirror Bulk; the last vestiges of awareness before sleep folding over Skull in very simple, honest words, "Don' want you guys to get hurt." He took one-two-three breaths, and then he was out like a light, medication and exhaustion and everything else taking him under; but really, it was the feeling of protection. And the trust. * * Bulk explained what he could in the hours between Skull asleep and morning coming on; how Skull figured things out, how Matt's only injuries came because he couldn't tell the difference between a comfort and a trap, how Skull made him swear not to tell anyone else and that they would help however they could. He wasn't happy about the last exchange between Skull and Billy--both inside and outside of Blue--but he still handed Billy a handkerchief from his pocket when the smaller boy started crying, sympathetic, "You're human. You were angry. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition." The chair in front of the door only moved once when Jason, Trini and Violet finally remembered, unlike Kim and Zack, that Matt hadn't been alone in his capture. All of them looked about as run through at the sight of Skull as Billy thought he'd looked at first blush, but Bulk was far less kind to their getting close to the bed until Violet mentioned a doctor wanted to talk with him about Skull's stay. Bulk wasn't happy about leaving Skull, but Billy gave him a look (months later he'd find it a hilarious turning point that neither of them were aware really happened to solidify their understanding of the other; their changed course from antagonist and target, to subtle equals with different points of view) that promised Billy would still be there; and woe be it to anyone that tried to fuck with Eugene while Billy was in the room.  The big guy still fussed over Skull before leaving to speak with the medical professional who had gotten Skull's sedative dose wrong, tucking the blankets around him to make up for the lack of Bulk's furnace level heat, before telling the three visitors in all seriousness, "You wake him up, I throw you around like a piñata," and marching off to get information it turned out Bulk had already guessed at. (Skull would remain on the psych ward for a week, while Matt went home. Skull would have to adjust his medication due to weight loss, dehydration, and withdrawals, while Matt stayed in his in his room and thought about why Rita had abducted them; reaching all the wrong conclusions. Skull would get a loving boyfriend, with Bulk and him slowly being integrated into the group of Rangers, with Violet tumbling along after Matt burnt down his bridges because he could not imagine silence having a reason behind it--and Violet was nothing if not perceptive.) But for the moment, Billy ignored everything else, including his friends in their hushed whispers and tones and worry. He just held onto Skull and took up where Bulk had left off, combing fingers through his hair, breathing him in, tired and content and real.

[augment-techs]

*deep breath*

SOFT THIIIIIIIIIIIINGS!!!! SOFT THINGS FOR THESE TRAUMATIZED BABIES HEALING!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!

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.

[augment-techs]

For @augment-techs

Inspiration song is Snow in August from Nanny McPhee soundtrack...