#small medium and large || danny & bastian & steve

[ruginite]

There's something about his smile that just...I feel like I don't get to see it that often, so when Baz smiles, it feels like the whole world lights up around him and you get that warm flutter in your chest.

What does your muse think is my muse’s most attractive feature? Status: Acceptin’

Well one might just believe the Jersey born bird, not at all incorrect. And there is something to be said the brightness of rarely seen stars.

                 “Wha’ever y’say, Penguin.”

[ruginite]

♔♔

Send me ♔♔ for a photoset/edit/gifset of our muses Status: Acceptin’

We are never so lost that we can not find each other.Because our home shelters heart beats.That echo into the eternity of our breathing.Of our being alive. Of our knowing it’s all of us or none.

[ruginite]

“The world will eat you if you let it. That’s why it’s everyone for themselves. But here, you’ve got loyalty.”

DARK/VIOLENT STARTERS Status: Acceptin’

The words are spoken with a level of experience, that only comes with seeing the worst in people. Something he knows Danny must see (Steve too) on any given day of the week, considering what they do for a living. And he wonders exactly when it was that Danny figured out most people are good might just be a lie. How young he was or how old, that most people only look out for number one became a reality. Because Bastian knows the precise moment it dawned on him. He was fresh out of Ranger school. Got his first taste of combat with his unit, and he learned fast the difference between most people and his team.

The barest move of a lip, that catches a bit between his teeth. He knows what Danny’s trying to say. That even though Bastian’s team…his family…are gone. He’s not alone. That the world is going to continue to play for keeps, but they’re not going anywhere. That they’re going to stick beside him no matter what. That they are his new team, his new family, that aren’t going to become just another memory to haunt him when it’s quiet. 

But to know fault of their own, that pin prick of doubt is still there isn’t it? That worry that one day they’ll get tired of the hassle. The constant…everything wrong that he causes because he sometimes he just can’t.  That one day enough will be enough and he’ll be right back where he started when he met them. Lost. Alone. Confused. With no safe harbor from the monsters inside his head, and no anchor to keep him from drifting out to sea in a permanent sort of way.

But he doesn’t say it. He holds it in, and pushes it down. Blue tracking up from where it had settled in the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Focuses on the hand on his shoulder, that’s weighted but not in a bad way. Focuses on the face across from his own. And it’s a few precious seconds before he’s just leaning forward. Resting his forehead against Danny’s shoulder. Because he may not entirely believe it, but he does a little. Wants to believe it completely. And maybe someday he will. But for now he will take what he can get.

            “Sum’one should tell it t’go on a diet then…cuz m’tired a gettin’ chewed on                               cuz it thinks there’s sum’m left a me t’peel off.”

Is it a terrible joke? Yes. But humor never really had been his forte.

[ruginite]

✩

My character has died and is now a Reaper. They must escort a certain number of souls over to the other side before they may rest in peace themselves. Send me a ✩ and my character will react to yours being the last soul they have to take. Status: Acceptin’

If you had asked him when he was alive, younger and lost–if this is where he would be, what he would be doing–he’d have thought you more cracked than he was. He would have laughed it off. He would have thought for sure it couldn’t be him you were talking about. Because he was alone, forgotten, guilty of things that maybe weren’t his fault, but he’d never been able to completely convince himself of that.

He’d slipped away in his sleep. That old heart of his that had been through far too much, just finally gave up the ghost. Literally. And he watched as the people that had become the corner stones of his life, become his family–mourn the loss of him. Watched silently as they laid his body to rest, and little by little stopped making the long trip to see him every year. Little by little moved on with their lives. As he moved on with other things.

Of guiding the fallen and the sick into the life after whatever limbo this was he was stuck in. Soul after soul after soul, drawn from the pain of life ending. Sending them on their way without words, but a lopsided sort of grin that those he’d come to love, knew all to well what meant. The sort of smile that though small reached his eyes. And in his form now. Washed clean of all the mistakes and the pain and nightmares, how much brighter is shines.

Fish had been collected by someone else. Bastian never did know who. And how much harder his job became. Knowing that Penguin was alone in that house. Kids and grandkids and maybe even great grandkids by now–but they weren’t around all the time. But he keeps to the job he’s been dealt. Keeps to the rules that frame his existence, in this in between. But now and then…now and then he checked in. 

But there is something…almost finite in the way his steps carry him today. As if they echo against worn carpet and linoleum, though that is perhaps impossible. For how can a ghost hold weight? But blue takes in every facet of the house. Incorporeal fingers trace the counter has he moves passed it, out the door towards the ocean. The twitch of lips, that two empty chairs still stand there, on either side of the occupied on. And for a moment he simply…enjoys the view, along with his unsuspecting company. Until the draw pulls at him. Makes his fingers itch. And he knows….oh he knows why he’s here.

It’s slow and easy, with a hand that no longer trembles and quakes. That’s steady as ever it had once been. That ghosts fingers over a shoulder and down an arm. That coaxes the other from the body that can no longer sustain him. Watches with a captured sort of expression, as the years melt away. Watches as the care lines, fade; and hair that had long lost it’s color turns a familiar shade of blonde. 

A hand held out. That lopsided never quite his whole mouth smile, hitching up his features. And there’s an easy sort of toss of his head, behind him.

              “C’mon, Penguin. S’get outta here.”

[ruginite]

Common Goals

He’s not ever really been that much of a people person. There’s more than one reason why his unit had called him Wrench, mind. But with new people it’s hard. And with kids? Even harder. Not because he’s afraid of them so much as simply...well he’s a little off kilter now--and kids are a lot like dogs. They can sense it. Or at least he thinks they can. So he usually steers clear of them. But it’s Danny’s weekend and...

Well Bastian had spent a good bit of time just leaned too against the counter in the kitchen. Watching Danny and Grace outside on the deck. Staying out of Steve’s way as he clangs pots and pans and does tail spins in the kitchen. Because Danny’s weekend means more than just Grace being around for two days. It means Steve and him...doing what they can to make sure Danny can maximize the time with his daughter. 

Eventually though....Steve chases him out of the kitchen (more or less). And he’s got two options. The living room to stare at the TV or...outside. And whatever’s left of his confidence turns his feet. Has him finding a chair on the deck, watching the ocean in the distance. Listening to Danny trying to coach Grace on her foot work. And maybe there’s a little snort as blue drags over to watch the pair. Because as much as he loves the shorter male, Penguin’s spitting mostly bullshit.

             Danno....does this look right to you?

             That’s never good....                  Keep working on passing the ball between your feet, Monkey. I’ll be right back.

And then rather all together suddenly....it’s just Bastian and Grace. The ten year old seventy-five pound tops dragon he’s been avoiding. But she doesn’t seem to notice him, so there is that. Moving the ball about in the yard and here it comes. Flying in the complete opposite direction from where she was clearly trying to kick it. Coming to a bouncing rest at Baz’s feet and....oh hell here he goes--Not so confident hands picking it up before he’s pulling himself out of the chair. A hitched step down off the deck and holding it out to her. Gaze kept on the ball more than her.

“Y’need t’hit it with t’back inside a’yer foot...not t’inside a yer toes. Toes r’meant f’passin’ not keepin’ it juggled n’away from yer competition.”

Because yeah it isn’t something he’s mentioned to her dad and Steve before. But there was a time back in high school when he hadn’t just watched futball. He’d played it too. And been on hell of a forward and defensive mid-fielder when the occasion called for it.

[ruginite]

Picked up from ( X )

It wasn’t that hard. It was fucking simple. Put the groceries away. He knew where everything was. It wasn’t hard. And he’d managed most of it. Hell he’d gotten most of it put away but then, his leg had hitched he’d lost his grip on the fucking milk and---

Well the milk was intact but dinner....dinner went crashing to the fucking floor. Shattering and splattering on impact.  All over the tile, the cabinets...his pants and bare feet. And to be honest the silence had...well the silence had been his brain fucking catching up with everything. And the cursing had been because could he go a single fucking day without being betrayed by his own fucking body?

And he stands there. Milk carton still in his hands. Staring at the red sauced mess. And it’s....his mind slips backward. Starts tilting over that edge he sometimes can’t help but fall over. But just when his lungs start complaining, just when screams that chase him in his sleep begin to echo in his ears and hands twitch into a noticeable shutter...

          ...Hey...look at me.....

Weight on his shoulder, words; he jumps. But even as he does the dark that was trying to swallow him up recedes. Goes skittering back into the corner. And he’s left in the here and now. A mess that needs cleaning up, Steve trying to reassure him that Penguin won’t be mad. But the truth is that’s a lie. Danny might not be hell’s rage about it, but he’s not going to be happy either.

                   “...y-yea...yea okay.”

And he milk gets set down. Bastian turning to find the paper towels and the broom and the trash can and...hot water. He should probably make hot soap water to get the red off the cabinets before it stains first. Because red stains everything. He should know.

                  “S-sorry’ll...I’ll clean it up.”

[ruginite]

Picked up from ( X )

[ Text to: Fish ] sry 

[ Text to: Fish ]  3111 Diamond Head Rd 

[ Text to: Fish ] lng story

[ruginite]

Picked up from ( X )

[ Text : Fish ] stuk @ grocery store [ Text : Fish ] queen of clippins n front of me [ Text : Fish ] do we REALLY need milk?

[ruginite]

Picked up from ( X )

          “Ain’t r’fault if yer comfy, Penguin.”

[ruginite]

We've got your back, now and forever.

Tell my muse something they need to hear.Status: Acceptin’

Sometimes it takes him a minute. To work around words. To work out their meaning. Sometimes he’s a bit slow on the up take. At least now a days. But work them out he does, on his own time. And maybe they hit in places Danny hadn’t meant them too. Maybe they hit exactly where Danny had meant them too. Bastian can’t really be sure. But what he is sure of, is while he believes Danny-whole heartedly–maybe he doesn’t think he deserves it all the same.

                  “I know….”

               “S’just sum’times I ain’t sure s’good f’ya health’s all.”

[ruginite]

I trust you beyond a shadow of a doubt. You're one of the best people I know, which isn't something I expected given our first meeting. Not that it reflected badly on you, but that we were a little at odds, being us. I trust you, I trust you with my daughter.

Tell my muse something they need to hear. Status: Acceptin’

Trust.

Just a word, yet it holds so much inside of it. Light and dark. Good and bad. Fills up the cracks in him, and yet feeds the shadows at the door. Bitter sweet. In ways that he can’t ever explain. In ways he honest to christ hopes Danny Williams never finds out….Because trust? Is a two edges sword at best.

His parents died trusting him. Trusting that some day the son they had said good-bye too on that grainy dropping every twenty seconds call…they would see him again. The men who had trusted him with his life and vise versa…all gone. Some carried home in pieces…some…still missing. Because they’re was nothing left to bring home. And still one more whose trust he had failed in ways a man doesn’t come back from.

But right then…thousands of miles away from that desert hell. Thousands of miles away from where he should have died–what who used to be him had. Thousands of miles away from hard city streets lined in people who never saw him. Thousands of miles away from the home that had turned into a dust cover museum of lives that could never be again. He tries to feel the silver lining and nothing else.

Here in the fading day, where an easy tide licks at his feet instead of fire. Where a life had constructed itself around him. Where he wasn’t alone. Where trust had started becoming a word that just might could mean something good again. Where one particular pair weren’t going to turn him out. Forget that he existed. Just because he got to hard to live with. Where one particular little girl looked at him no different than any of the rest of her O’hana. Where glimpses of who he used to be…came in greater numbers. And the good days had started to out number the bad.

So maybe there’s a twitch of a smile, before his head ducks. Before that curtain of hair hides his features away. But maybe too there’s a hand that can never again be steady on its own, reaching out. Covering Penguin’s own, that’s resting on the table. An easy squeeze, that perhaps feed the tremble. It’s not a verbal response. Nothing close to what that sort of statement deserves but…its the best he can offer right now. 

[ruginite]

Pro: The bed isn't empty when the SEAL decides to be a masochist and go swimming at some godforsaken hour. Con: We really need to find a bigger mattress.

Give me one Pro and one Con for living with my muse Status: Acceptin’

[ruginite]

tag change dump. nothin’ to see here. move a long.

[ruginite]

Picked up from ( X )

Sometimes damaged nerve endings misfire. Sometimes he can’t control it when he flinches at the contact of something against his hands. But right then thank fuck no ill timed twitch occurs. And even though he can’t close his fingers around Danny’s as tightly as he wants, he manages to do so enough to be noticed. And maybe there’s twitch of smile. A chuckle at being told to shut up and a second later Steve’s sanity being questioned.

Honestly Bastian’s done crazier shit than building hopping. But maybe that isn’t something Danny needs to know. Penguin worries himself in circles enough as it is. And blue a few shades darker than Danny’s shift up from the table. Flicker in the general direction of his face. Trying to work through all the words. Not miss any. Not let any of them fall through the cracks. And maybe not for the first time he’s glad he didn’t meet them sooner in his life. When he was still all forward motion and bullet proof.

But the truth is no matter how scrambled he is on a good day he’d do anything and everything he could to have their backs too. Even if most days that’s just making sure the pizza delivery’s still warm when they get home at past given fucks in the morning. 

             “Yea okay, Penguin.”

             “Eat yer pie for Fish gets down here n’clears t’rest.”

[ruginite]

When I see you, I think of where we started, how far we've come, and realize I never would have predicted us ending up here.

“When I see you, I …” finish in my askbox Status: Acceptin’ 

             “…yea m’either, Penguin….”

                 “…m’either.”

[ruginite]

Picked up from ( x )

There’s a shifting shadows but he doesn’t dare move. Not until the cat’s jumped down from the roof anyway. Which is about when he decides to move. Or at least that had been the idea. But no matter how much he pushes against the back seat and pulls on the front seat he’s....not moving. And there’s a groan. Because his legs are going to sleep. But he keeps shifting, eventually managing to get his not so great leg extended. Yet it does almost nothing to help with the fact he’s wedged in. And rather frustrated his head falls back against the door with a thunk.

          ...Pup?

             “M’here.”

He sounds about as thrilled as a wet cat, oddly enough. Still when the opposite backdoor is opened, he tries to look as comfortable as possible. Though he’s clearly not very convincing because Steve see’s right through him and yeah he probably responds a little too quickly.

               “No, no I ain’t stuck. I was jus’.....”

Another failed attempt to pull and push himself out.

             “Yea’....yea m’stuck.”