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Send a symbol for my muse to respond to your muse….

♥ - Stroking/brushing their hair

♡ - Rubbing their shoulders

❥ - Holding their hand

❤ - Hugging/cuddling them

❄ - Staying close to them to keep warm

☆ - Reading to them

★ - Sitting at their bedside

☾ - Taking a nighttime walk with them

✚ - Bandaging their wound

✕ - Clasping their shoulder

❀ - Giving them a flower/flowers

♞ - Playing a game with them

◆ - Standing up for them

✪ - Defending them in a court/before an authority

♬ - Singing to them

◯ - Rescuing them

❇ - Stargazing with them

♛ - Comforting them

☁ - Washing their face

☼ - Camping with them

✔ - Hiking with them

☄ - Listening to them

✏ - Telling stories with them

This past year has been incredibly difficult for me but I’d be lying if I said I was happy to see it go. I have learned so much and met the most incredible people online and in real life who have gone beyond what I thought the definition of a friend entailed. 

There will be some big changes in my life this upcoming year and I am very excited for them. In advance, I once again call on your unwavering patience with me - I would like to make more time to write and be on here and I anticipate that will become more constant once I am setup with a stable career and new housing which I have begun searching for. So, many changes the next 6 months alone! 

Thank you to everyone who has been patient while I navigate these ups and downs with writing and feeling unconfident in my abilities - it may be obnoxious and frustrating and I always fear it distances my muses and myself from others but it also makes me feel supported in more ways than you might think. 

I’m grateful to everyone I interact with and want to be better about communication for the new year. Always know it is never something you have done that has caused my silence : ) 

     Despite his confident demeanor it was obvious that he didn’t have a story at all. She’d expected something about bravo in the wastes. Some story about taking down Buzzards during a raid or something about Valhalla. But instead he spoke about a flower and a girl. Joanna had no idea that Widget new stories that were so… Well soft. But not in a dying soft way.

     A flower and a girl? Joanna’s hair fell over the side of her shoulder when she bent down to inspect the flower. “So the girl was a fairy? A fae girl who was born in a flower? What did she do?”

A fairy? Widget stifled a snort, softening once she touched his cheek to rid him of the pollen. It made his nose tickle, after all. “Sure. Yes.” The end. 

Or so he thought. 

More? “Yes,” he said quickly as if she had interrupted him, scoffing haughtily. “Of course there is.” He’d have to think fast if he wanted to give her a really good story... This would require more thought. The War Boy crossed his ankle over his other one and sat down where he was, oddly graceful for his stature. “The... fairy girl,” he mused, because that’s what she was now. “She loved living on her flower. But she had nowhere else to go because the flower was so high off the ground. And she wanted to see what else was out there.” Just like how Joanna wandered every nook and cranny of the Citadel. 

Send me “‡” for my character’s reaction to yours climbing into bed with mine.

He was right on the cusp of sleep, eyelids growing heavy as he looked out of the netted  fabric of the tent at the star-speckled sky. So many stars without the interruption of city lights. It was becoming a more and more normal sight and Widget wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep without it. He’d opted for the tent tonight, letting Astra and Alek take the Roarer with its lockable doors. The Rust was in full swing tonight and it gave him peace of mind to know both of them were safe in the belly of the Humvee. 

Iv didn’t obey anyone’s orders, but still she stopped. Even though it was not an order. It sounded like an ordinary request. Oh, and she hoped and wanted to believe that it was an ordinary request.

Narrowing her eyes and staring at the tall man, who asked her to stop, Iv, as it said before, stopped, but at a sufficiently safe distance from him. You never know, what’s going on in people’s head. And Iv didn’t want to figure out, what was going on in his head. If only it wasn’t something against her.

- I see, you really like names, Widget - Iv smiled. - It is a tradition of the place, where I came from. To give the name of the child, the parents mix their own names. In fact, I don’t know the real names of my parents and I was never interested. My grandmother gave me that name. Iv didn’t really understand, why he was so much interested in her name, but she didn’t mind sharing a little story of her life. - If you want, you can call me Iv. This is a short version of my name.

The junket wasn’t going to cut it but he had a feeling that would be the case. She’d basically saved his life and he was offering her bits of scrap and parts from the garages. Of course, to him they were incredibly sacred Widget shrugged and offered her the trinket once again. “Anything she likes, really. Sometimes he needs a picture or description, but... Mostly he can make anything.” His chest puffed out some with that last statement, pride clear on his features. 

ADAM K posing for Polish Brand Kas Kryst in their 2015 S/S Collection

Send, ‘Pumpkin!’ for my muse and your muse going trick or treating!

Usually, Halloween was reserved to celebrate their collective escape from the hospital. Halloween, 2011 - when they’d fled the hospital and started their lives on the road, taking whatever and whoever they could in the process.

This year was different. This year there was a kid in their midst. The shenanigans had to be kept to a minimum. Or at least away from Widget, Astra, and Alek while they traipsed the streets in search for candy. 

The masks came in handy any night but on Halloween it felt a little more… cohesive. It was easy to blend in, to feel apart of the regular populace for one night if only because they weren’t so regular. Everyone was on the same playing field - sickly and deformed, hidden by masks, stuffing their bodies with poison sugar. While the others might have been off smashing mailboxes and lighting firecrackers in the streets Widget was perfectly content to don his own mask and wander with Astra and Alek, watching the little boy dart from front door to front door. Front doors they may have, at one point or another, invaded and raided for supplies.  

However as soon as they were parked within the Rust, she could not follow his instructions. The woman opened the door and stumbled out into the ruckus. Making sure she was out of the sights of her son, she finally let herself purge herself of this feeling. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks as she heaved, emptying her stomach.

As soon as she was finished, Astra tried to make her way back to the front seat, but the task was too overwhelming. Feeling herself sink to the ground, she curled up against the warmth of the car. Knees were drawn to her chest and soft features were buried into them to hide her weakness from any that might pass or may see her. She especially didn’t want Widget to see her. She knew he thought she was strong, but in the wake of being threatened, she could only feel scared.

However, after a few minutes of self-pity, Astra sucked in a deep breath and glanced up. She couldn’t give up. Not now. She still had to protect her son and she had something real here with Widget. As long as she had something to fight for, she couldn’t give up. So, wiping away the tears, she forced herself up and made her way back to the car.

What was going on with her? He could have chocked it up to candy if he hadn’t seen her eyes or heard the panic in her voice when they’d first gotten into the car. He caught her walking back and felt some relief, raising his head. It quickly fleeted as she fell and didn’t get up, a worried sound loosing from his throat. Widget did get out of the car then but she was already standing up and dusting herself off, putting on a brave face. He resigned to get back into his own seat and wait for her to shut the door behind her, frowning in the face of her smile. 

“A story?” The request made him blink, suddenly feeling on the spot. Stories? All the stories he knew were about engines... About Immortan, about sand and the sun and blood... Those things wouldn’t interest her, would they? He glanced around the room frantically for inspiration while her back was turned, offering her a confident smile once she turned to face him. “Once there was...” His eyes drifted again, settling on the flowers at their feet. “A flower.” Good so far... Just keep it going. “And...” Another glance around. “A girl.”