STEP ONE: Figure out why your muse isn’t cooperating with you.
Perhaps it’s because you’re not in the right mood, or because you have writer’s block in general, because suddenly the muse for another character comes up and replaces that one, if it’s temporarily or for a while. Whatever the reason may be, figure out the root of your problem and solve it. If you find it? Great. If not? Keep trying. You’re bound to get something.
STEP TWO: Look at all the different things your muse enjoys and immerse yourself in them.
You’ve chosen your muse for a reason! If you go through their interactions, their interests, their thoughts, their entire CHARACTER, I believe that you’ll reconnect with them again. Observe how they act around other characters, why they act a certain way, create headcanons for stuff you think would be reasonable for them. It should help make the muse interesting and fun once more.
STEP THREE: Find music which fits the character, look up art or fanfiction ( if your muse is the Canon sort ) and it could spark a muse.
You may have lost the feel of your character because you think you don’t play them well, or because they’re just so far from your own personality that you can’t grasp them well. If so, listen to music that suits their general mood and search for other characters who are similar to them. You’ll almost certainly have a deeper understanding of who that character is and how they would react in certain situations. Again, if your muse is a Canon Character, research about them and their world, how they’ve grown and changed throughout their lives. Add in your own headcanons to give depth, and most importantly…
STEP FOUR: Practice, practice, practice.
If you continue writing for them, you’re sure to get better. And when you do, it will be so much easier for the muse to cooperate with you because you’ve practiced their character! So keep with the muse(s) you’ve chosen to portray, and hopefully they’ll stick with you.
Our character wake up in a room, tied to chairs, facing each other, with bombs strapped to their chests and remotes tapped to their hands. They’re informed via an intercom system they’re part of an insane man’s makeshift social experiment. Each remote will detonate the other person’s bomb and deactivate their own. A countdown is on the clock in the center of the room for 30 minutes, and if it gets to zero one bomb chosen at random will go off. Send me “Let’s Play A Game” and I’ll make us a starter.
I love when my partners remember small things about my character that came up in a thread, like a favorite flavor or scent. It makes me smile that they pay attention to something so small that means so much.
Careful calculation of movements, pupils continued to scrutinize her every movement. If there was one word he could possibly use to conclude his latest finding, he wasn’t aware of it. All he could do was let time slow itself, although the people around them didn’t change pace. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint how he felt, scattered emotions were definitely ready to bring themselves to life. Was he ready for such? Probably not, but things like inanimate and abstract, as said sentiments, were not meant to react to the daily life of someone who had given up trying. Perhaps he was better off not trying to provoke any kind of emotions from the younger, simply making small-talk was enough for him.
Expectations had been worn down, now unable to resurface. He soon had given up keeping a facade, instead letting a strange emotion that was indecipherable. Something overwhelming, radiating almost vividly from a presence nearby. Of course, it wasn’t strong, but someone who possessed such great power could say that much. Eyes had scanned themselves across the surroundings, head shifting right and left, yet could detect nothing but the dull frequencies of day. All a simple drone to the ears of a wary contractor.
And as his eyes befell white hair once more, it almost pained him to. He didn’t exactly know how to depict it, like something had shocked him and had made an endeavor to kill him. If atmosphere could be noticed, it had changed. Countenance hadn’t, however. He had taken his time with this encounter, but now it pained him, some kind of excruciating pain. Maybe it was the chain, trying to steer him away from the girl with snowy-hair. Or maybe it was him, being intimidated in some kind of obscure way. But not giving in to the sudden discomfort, he stood there.
Scared? Was that how he felt? That feeling of fleeing the scene? No, that want it at all, in fact, he was too curious to recede. The need to stay was great, and definitely not ignored. Not visage seemed to waver, a kind of surprised-look had taken over. Widened eyes as golden orbs stared forward, unable to comprehend. He wouldn’t, no, he couldn’t, refused to, leave. Even if everything in his power had turned against him, coaxed him into leaving the current scenario he was placed in, he hadn’t. Instead, he stood there, mouth opening, the closing. The action displayed one of wanting to speak, but nothing audible leaving his lips.
’ Leave.
Leave now~!
I’m unaware of this power.
She’s dangerous. ’
That voice, Raven. He had heard it once before, the voice was deep and resounded with such fury. Yet the winged-chain seemed to only make little to no sense, being unaware of a power wasn’t worth retreating for. No, not at all. If this was the instinct of the being inside of him, he had completely disregarded it.
❝ Scared?
No.
Just surprised. ❞
His name?
❝ I prefer,
to go by Gilbert. ❞
♕— She didn’t make a sudden movement out of fear that she might scare the other — as he didn’t seem to be the most stable of the two of them like she could be considered to have been. She wouldn’t make a move even when he pulled away from her or looked her in the eye this way. Anna didn’t make a single complaint of her own tone about being observed this way like she knew she was being. In fact, she welcomed the actions if it assisted in helping the other’s nerves settle down even the slightest bit. Anna let him look at her and look away if he so wished to — she wasn’t preferable to attention when it came to the matter.
He is hiding something.
He is strange.
How strange, I wonder?
♕— The Strain’s eyes remain dully lit as she continued only to witness his strange movements and his thoughts he seemed so deeply forgotten in. Anna, not having the heart to really break him from them, lifted her hand once more, about to lay it upon his form when he was so last inside of whatever it was he was thinking all about. Among this action’s halfway point, he seemed to jolt back to life again on her, the female retracting her hand and keeping it back towards her chest, fingers drawing into a curl as her grey eyes laced his form of equal grey.
♕— “ … Gilbert. ” She repeated for her own sake before she said something else, another sentence that required much more concentration to understand and to hear due to their differences in height and atmosphere. The only reason she continued to speak on her own will, however, was due to the fact not only did she owe him her information, but at least some kind of indication of why a young lady like herself was even trespassing in the first place. It that was what she was doing. " … Gilbert is hiding something. Something … Something like … Power. I can … sense it inside of you. It’s strong. It’s why … I’m here with you. Right now. “
I am here.
I am here because you are strong.
I am here because I need help.
I am here because I need your help.
Digits had pressed themselves on fabric once more, feeling the smooth material against coarse skin. Running it across towards the hem of his sleeve, he had found out exactly why he was reacting in such a pointless manor. It was because he was indeed frightened. Although having no real theory as to why he was behaving like the way he was. He had dropped every ounce of a facade almost instantaneously, which was not something he normally did, especially not in the company of a stranger. Yet here he stood, on the brink of what seemed to be a lack of facilities, if he was feeling warily self-conscious at the moment, it had not surfaced.
A fine line between abnormality and normalcy had been drawn the second he had been retrieved from the womb, becoming one to live an extremely difficult life and not having the ability or time to cope with it. So of course, he was struggling with his emotions at the very second. He had never been one who could easily plaster on a face and assume it was true, but over the years it had grown into such a tedious task that it seemed to be essential in a part of his life. And the true inquiry was as to why it had escaped him now, but it wasn’t exactly necessary to ponder such when it was obvious.
A repetition had been heard, subtly pirouetting over the trembling silence that had broken out. The words had been spoken with such care and restraint that it seemed like silence itself, and it was soothing to the ear alone. He didn’t have a way with words, no, not at all. But if he could depict how her tone resembled silk entwined to the touch then he would, because now he had garnered enough attention to the existence of the other. And as she continued, he had strained to listen, disregarding his chain’s next warning. If only he could tell the bloody thing to shut the hell up.
