Your Muse, and your Beast

[SabbyNeko]

We all talk about it as if its a close friend or cherished pet. When we feel inspiration or a lack of it, we personify our Muses to express this, giving them very human emotions and tendencies.

So why not go all the way and characterize your Muse write out a full description, and even draw a picture if your so inclined. Make it either a spirit, a human, a mute animal, it doesn't matter, as long as its yours. Its your creative mind given form.

But then there's your Beast, your anti-Muse, the personification of everything wrong with you, all your anger, all your struggles, all your insecurity and shortcomings, and it knows exactly how to use all of this against you.

My Mews

His name is freefall, and he is a lithe, effeminite boy appearing in his late teens. His skin has a slight glow to it, shining brightly when my creativity is high, but sinking into a dull little glimmer when I'm not feeling very inspired, and blinking out completely when I'm depressed.

His hair is a light silvery brown, waves of it loose and floppy, like a bell shaped flower turned upside down. He has a wild, animal like face, eyes large, bright and only a few shades lighter then his hair, appearing gray, but sparkling and full of life. Little fangs can be seen even when his mouth is closed. Shaggy haired ears protrude from his hair, long and resembling a possums more then a cats.

He also has a very large set of white feathered wings, the tips splashed with mottled brown, same as his hair. They become almost limp when I'm depressed. From under his clothes flicks a long, shaggy tail, same colours as his wings.

His clothes change a lot, sometimes dressed as a school boy, or a school girl, or in a robe, or if I'm feeling really nasty and adventurous, full on Goth with boots and miniskirt ^^ He has no issues with girls clothing, but may decide on something that covers himself more, like a long skirted, good-girl uniform, or a blanky, if I'm feeling withdrawn and shy.

He is a mute, and cannot speak, but can hum if I feel elated, and is purposefully dramatic in his physical expressions. If I'm depressed, an aura of sadness will surround him, and he may pout and have large, watery eyes, and avoid me, holding his blanky close and trying to coax me into going to comfort him by moping and whimpering. If I'm feeling bored, he may dress in something fairly ordinary and sigh and annoy me. If I'm feeling really great, he may get in something adventurous and revealing and twirl and dance and hum, and act naughty around me to coax me into playing with him.

My Beast

While my Muse is whimsical and indirect, dealing with it's mood swings (whether high or low) by gently asserting them, my Beast is it's exact opposite, direct, firm, and oppressive without ever needing to express itself with actions. While Freefall will display himself and his feelings in many different ways, often with little reasoning towards the method, Gale is ever present and always looming over me, always enforcing her influence on me, still and serene.

Resembling Freefall, her furred ears and tail and wings are not shaggy and soft, but glossy and neat. Her skin is either dark gray or enshrouded in shadow that shifts too subtly for my eyes to see, fur and feathers also a deep gray, black at the ends. Hair as dark as coal lays straight perfect down her back, a simple, unadorned brown cloth wrapped about her chest and hips all to keep her modest, feet bare. Her face is cruel but passive, dark eyebrows narrowing if she feels agitated, eyes pools of black ink, with only a hint of a silver crescent in them.

If ever I feel insecure of something, she is near me, watching me, crossing her arms and willing me to believe things I know aren't true. She is my jealousy, my possessiveness, and while if I upset Freefall he will huff or sulk or make a scene, Gale will simply step in front of me if I ignore her, burning holes in me with her eyes. It is very hard for to look away and ignore her poisonous influence. I can only ever shun her until she gives up, and those victories are very hollow, but she will simply return, another time. It is my constant struggle.

Where Freefall is wild and untamed in both appearance, personality and actions, Gale is a foreboding and oppressive stillness, in her appearance and behavior. Their very names are polar opposites, Freefall a gentle and careless drifting, like a leaf, and Gale a powerful and fearsome storm that will always seem still and harmless whenever I am not engulfed in it, watching the edge from afar... yet when I am swallowed by that storm, I find it hard to concentrate on anything outside of it.

Freefall is... admirable in his attempts to shoo her away or usher me off, but she scares him >.> easily. If I'm feeling like crap, and Gale does that to me, Freefall is more likely to just sit with me and be miserable.

[KerantliDreamer]

My Muse’s (yeah... I have two)

My muse is 5ft 6, short brown hair and wears “geek” glasses. He is fun loving and very flighty, often leaving me for days or months on end (Or once, 3 years!). He has no set sexuality and is rather good with a whip... (Just ask Astraea on that one!)

He has had many names in the last ten years (I’ve been writing since I was 12...) but most recent, and one that has stuck is “Grey”, and has demanded to be a part of most of my stories with his appearance (and height!) changed. When I was younger he was called Devin, Callum, Devon, Jace and for a while “that damn arse of a muse!”

Grey can be very good when he wants to be, or he can be the devil in muse form. When he is hooked on an idea he will poke at me til he is satisfied that I’ve gotten enough down to be easily able to flit off again. He loves to dress up in baggy jeans and tight tops, but is also found in sweat pants and a very thread bare tee. And is usually found hiding at the bottom of my bed staring at me when I wake up.

---

My other muse is called Cleo, and is mainly the one to help me with any lesbian scenes. She has very long hair (long enough to sit on when she wants it to be...) but usually wears it in a plait down her back in many different colours. She herself is like Grey and flits off once the thinks that I’m okay with what I’m writing. Can also usually be found chasing down Grey, or even having fun with him... Other than that, she is Grey in female form

My Beast

What can I say about my beast... She is female (obviously) and will make my life hell when she takes over. She is a direct opposite of Grey, and has always had the same name, which is Black Rose. Standing at 5ft 9 with very bright blonde hair, she is a force to be reckoned with. She is my anger, depression and nightmares wrapped up in one big mass. If she grips me, people had better run as I don’t remember what I do when she does.

Usually wears black and red, and is constantly around me in the back of my mind. I don’t like to dwell on her too much though, and she has a male counter part too...

[ShadowsPale]

I only have one but that one has a split personality. Bell is a tiny white winged feline that sits on my shoulder and whispers in my ear. She is rather impish as she likes giving me plot bunnies just before I fall asleep because she finds the sometimes very bizarre dreams I have as a result, rather amusing. She urges me to write and can at times be a real slave dirver. She is also at times very annoying because she will often wait until I have several chapters written before whispering "What if..." She is also a bit delusional as she thinks my writing skills are much better than they truly are so will not stop feeding me these wonderful (or so she thinks) plot ideas. She is impatient and isn't happy unless I am posting something, regardless if i have a beta or not. She has gotten better about waiting however. She just gets very discouraged when her idea of a great story isn't well received and will disappear on me.

Bastian is a tiny black feline with red horns. He likes to take over and point out all the errors I make while typing. He gets bored easily so chews on my ear until he is satisfied he has me thoroughly distracted and then relishes pointing out that I have lost my train of thought. He also likes pointing out stories so well written I end up having doubts as to whether I should bother writing as I can't hope to compare. He likes whispering ideas in my ear that sometimes have me wondering where he got them and than gets pissy and won't let me write when i tell him it won't work or try toning it down to plausible levels. He can't sit still so has a habit of suggesting I do something else that is more entertaining to him than typing. He is sneaky about doing, he starts telling me all the things I am probably doing wrong until I have no choice but take a break.

[Keith Inc.]

My muse is Thalia.

She's not the original Greek muse, but she bought the franchise right from the first one.

She's about two feet tall. Curious and whimsical, she goes lots of places i'd never think to, finding inspiration that makes me marvel that it took me this long to figure it out. Blackadder as Gulliver? Of course. Rowan Atkinson on Simpsons? Perfect. A zoo with animals that are mythical in my world? Brillig.

She can't stand to be ignored. My current method to avoid burnout is to stop writing and read a book. THoughts seem to process in the back of my head. When i finish a chapter, it's time to turn around and write. She's only supposed to be my inspiration, but she ends up doing a lot of the heavy lifting until i'm ready to put it on paper.

THere are days when her mood is flighty, i can write a chapter for each of seven stories in one day.

And days when she focuses like a short blonde laser with a greek accent, and i write 80 pages of one story without relent.

SHe loves sex scenes. Writing them choreographing them, finding new positions, angles, erogenous zones. Love love love sexy.

My beast is Thalia.

She also drinks heavily. Sometimes on a pub crawl. I have had moments of writer's block that were extended until she made bail or slipped out between the bars. She punishes inattention. She will show me the opening of a story and the final scene. ANd connecting the two ideas...a vast, arid wasteland. I get into stages where i know the O's in Ohio like the back of my hand, but couldn't write 'hi' to save my life.

Or she gets into the illicit drugs (she can walk into parties like i put on a pair of pants. Comfortable and friendly, she's everyone's friend of a friend. I can't stand to go out for drinks after work with coworkers), which she says it's only polite to sample, and then goes on a plot bunny binge.

Always at night or when i'm driving, with no way to write down the inspiration, or preserve the dialogue that comes up. They flow up and over me, and only rarely come back to mind when i can take advantage of them.

And she hates my sex scenes. I'm a hack. Smut is so terribly unoriginal. Why bother? It's all the same. STuff goes in, unless it's stuff slides over or stuff spins around. I could just write 'and then the sex.' Like stage direction, or that wonderful scene in Shibumi. But no, i push out more stuff that i thought was different because now the woman is a redhead!

Edited June 15, 2011 by Keith Inc.

[Asexual Biped]

My Muse is Cat.

She's an actual cat: cunning, lazy and self-absorbed. She's an ordinary, long-haired tabby cat, with her gorgeous bands of gray and black fur and partial mane. She doesn't speak outright, but she has a knack for giving you the perfect look to portray what she thinks of you at just that moment.

She's very finicky and rarely comes when called. She likes to prance, right outside of my reach. If I try to forcefully grab her, she saunters off and laughs a feline laugh. She likes to mess with me: no matter how much I desire to get something written, she won't come to me unless she wants to.

When she finally comes to me, there are two ways she goes about it. 1) She'll rub her head along my legs, a gentle push and reminder that she's present. She'll only allow me a leisurely pace, from a few pages to a short chapter. 2) This is her insistent mode, where she purposely jumps onto my lap and demands I pet her as she lounges on her back an purrs up a storm. Pages and chapters flow at the speed of her purring and I can only stop when she finally gets bored.

Like all cats, she can be a lovable creature, but only when it suits her to be. You have to gain her trust and respect to get anything, but the world is at your fingers when you do.

My Beast is also Cat.

Because of her stingy, lazy nature, it's not often that she'll grace me with her presence. I can go a looong time without the desire to write (like now D: ) or the ability to get anything worthwhile down on paper. She can be apathetic to my frustration and need to write down the many plots floating in my head. I can be bored out of my mind, unable to find anything to read, wanting to write, and she won't care, just sitting back and watching me suffer.

She also doesn't help my writing in anyway, just telling me when I can write. I get no real help with dialogue, action or plot from her. When I'm chipping away at a plot, during a rare visit from her, she'll just sit or lay nearby and stare at me blandly with half-lidded eyes. The only thing she will do is allow me to write and give me overall ideas on plots I can use.

Edited July 17, 2011 by Asexual Biped

[moss gypsy]

My muse is a bard.

He wears a guitar strapped on his back, and he eyes pretty girls with glassy blue orbs as he sings them steely songs filled with lust.

At times, his rhythm is quick, and his voice is low and guttural as he growls and howls under the watch of a hard-edged crowd.

When the nights are brisk and I sit, transfixed before campfire light, he is there, haunting the heated air with mournful minor riffs.

In times of futile anxiety, his voice becomes lighter, softer, soothing me with lingering laconic lullabies.


My beast is the silence

when taciturnity takes the troubadour's tune, and his once mesmerizing melody slowly smothers under the weight of dead air...

His quiescence gets in through the skin, settles within the synapses, and cuts deep, unforgiving, with a reticent blade.

Edited August 26, 2014 by space oddity