FSE

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"Bandit? You in here?"

The familiar voice drifts over to my ears. I'm still not used to hearing things on top of my head when I come in here. Then again, I don't really notice if I don't think too hard on it. I notice it now as the sound of her footsteps gets louder. She's not wearing her workboots.

"Can we talk?"

"About what?"

I'm not really working. Just huddled over my workspace with several gems of tales cluttered around it. Or is it clear? I can't really focus on it hard enough to cement the reality. Just enough to give the appearance of work. She taps me on the shoulder and I turn to look at her. In her hand is something I really don't want to own up to.

"This look familiar?"

"...a little."

"It has your style."

She plunks it down on the empty desk. Guess even my muse has enough clout to determine what goes on in here. It's only her right. I stare at the thing, noticing the faint glint of a new idea under layers of lustful fantasy. It's attractive in its own way, but in terms of writing it's sloppy and a mess. There's no heart or soul to it. Some of my other risque stuff at least has some of that. This is just idle fantasy. It's not solidified yet, though like many fantasies I've considered writing it, to give it concrete form. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Hun, why were you working on this?"

"I dunno. I just..."

Distraction comes from the internet, from sites I dare not mention lest some poor soul gets curious. Things I had wiped from my browser history, but not my memory. New comics to read that feature naked, furry bodies in...

"Hey! Are you listening to me?"

"...sorry. It's just..."

"Hun.... whatever it is, please. Shut it down. Turn it off. You don't need it."

Thank God for her. Sometimes, she says exactly what I need to hear. Even if it's only myself talking through her. I close the window and tab, then wipe it from the history, along with anything else not fit for my heart. Then I get a little distracted again.

"This is why we never get any work done. C'mon, turn it off."

"Okay, okay, fine."

I manage to pull myself away, though not without a little more distraction. Internet addiction is a tough thing to deal with.

"So... you wanna talk?"

"I know you do. That's why we're here. Pretty meta."

I forget how genre savvy a muse can be. I should remember that if I ever write that version of myself that can manifest her and the others. Intelligence and wisdom are useful traits as well.

"What's bothering you?"

"A lot of stuff. Family, my virginity, pressures of life. Just kinda weighing down on me."

"Anything specific?"

I sigh and run a hand through my hair, bumping into my ear as I do so. Being fuzzy in my imagination has some weird side effects. At least the chair doesn't bother my tail.

"Just been doubting myself. And I kinda felt 'burned out' this past week. Like not even porn could arouse me much. And thinking about... her... didn't seem to do much either. And with that stupid condition I have, I started worrying, something I'm far too good at. Combine it with my age, and you can see how that'd..."

My mind stops as she taps my forehead with my finger. Some rather hot and heavy images race through my thoughts and I'm soon blushing. Except something other than my hormones is stirring.

"The hell was that?"

"Proof that you're not 'spent', hun. You can still come up with stuff like that, so your passion isn't a problem. And I know when the time comes, your body will respond."

"But what if it doesn't?"

"Then you deal with that when the time comes." She sighs and straddles me in the chair, wrapping her arms around my neck. I blush harder and now the hormones start working. "Hmmm... and it would seem your body responds well enough, even if you're 'past your prime'."

"Hun, please... if he sees..."

"Oh, don't mind the Ruskie. He and I know nothing will happen here. And so do you." She giggles and winks at me. "Besides, you need a cute girl in your lap now and then, even if it's just your mirror image."

"Sheesh... stuff like this makes people wonder if it's incest or masturbation." She laughs and smacks my shoulder.

"Neither, you... goof!"

"You were going to say pervert."

"Was not."

"Ruby..."

"Okay, okay." She smiles, blushing a little, her tail wagging a little. Why does that arouse me so much? "But enough about that. Shall I find other ways to convince you? Or have you had enough?"

"I think I get the point. Off, please."

"Oooooh, no. Not getting out of it that easy!" She repositions herself to sit on my lap sideways. This doesn't help much. I find myself wishing she was someone else.

"You're an evil little mischief-maker." She just sticks her tongue out, which looks a little goofy coming from her muzzle. I suppose I look the same when I do it. "So... guess we move on to another topic then?"

"Soon as you stop undressing me with your eyes."

"Heh. Says you. I don't need eyes when it comes to you."

"Less creeper, more confession."

I chuckle and shake my head, finding my arms already holding on to her. She's right. I make an effort to stop imagining dirty things and focus on what's next.

"So... family?"

"Mostly my mother. I don't think our relationship is all that healthy. She asks and sometimes presses me to do stuff. And while it's productive... something in me rebels. Something resists. And I'm not sure whether it's the real me... or just the sin."

"Self doubt, huh?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. I just... I don't know if my opinion counts. I know I don't see clearly. But... that doesn't mean I'm completely blind, right?"

"You've been good about that, hun. Though I have noticed you drifting a little."

"I know, I know! Argh... I just... I want out. I don't want to live here anymore, under her roof, under her rules. I just feel like she doesn't get me. That she doesn't... she doesn't..."

"...doesn't believe in all this?"

I nodded. What else was there to say? Mother would think I was insane for having a conversation with my muse, with my imagination. Ye gods, if she knew about Lucius... I just couldn't, or wouldn't, take the risk. What do you say to someone who doesn't seem to really believe in all your dreams? Who just keeps bringing up all the negatives and the slim odds? Who happens to also be your mother? I didn't need to say much to Ruby. She kinda already knew.

"You just want to know it's not just you, right?"

"Yeah. I want to know that's she's not right about me. That the words... the words she used aren't true... or not the truest thing about me. I can't live under that."

"Have you talked to anyone else about this?"

"No. I never really know who to talk to. And... pretty sure the devil keeps me from doing it."

"Don't let him." She smoothed down my hair and... kissed me? I don't know. But there's a Russian tiger nearby, watching. He doesn't seem upset. Not as far as I can tell. But my focus isn't on him.

"It's hard to fight. I can't do it alone. And I don't know who to ask..."

"Ask anyone and everyone. Tell them what's going on. You'll get more help than you realize."

"Probably. And I should stop saying 'I dunno' so much. I think I'm using it as an excuse."

"There, see?" She smiled at me. "You're not lost yet. You still try to keep an eye on yourself."

"Not too hard to do. I live in this body anyway, even if I don't always know what's going on or take measures to protect myself."

"Good. Keep it up."

"I'll do my best." Ruby seems satisfied with my answer, and I feel a bit better now too. Though I'm still uncertain with the situation.

"In the meantime, be sure to get some second opinions on your mother. Can't hurt to find someone objective."

"I suppose not. Just so long as God's voice finds its way to me."

"Ah. More loss of contact, huh?"

"More like avoidance. Might be tied to my mother, or just my own reluctance. Or using mom as an excuse." I sigh and roll my neck a little. This is something of a sore subject for me. "After that message back in January, I just didn't know what to do. And no one close at hand seemed to think what I'd heard was positive. I never sought out God to figure out if that was what he wanted or not."

"For you to quit school?" I nodded. "Why don't you ask him now?"

"Fear and doubt. Fear that I won't like the answer, or that it'll be hard. Doubt that I can actually hear him. Or that it isn't something else talking. And then I think about my parents and I know their feelings on these things."

"You've talked with them?"

"I don't remember. I think I told them what I heard. I know I told the guy at church. He said it was a red flag."

"He also said the King James Version was something that 'we need to get you out of'. How much do you trust him?"

"Hah. Might as well ask me that about everyone. I'm cautious to trust. I don't want to follow someone who will lead me back into church culture." I sigh again. I sigh a bit too much at times. "He's a good guy. And yet, I hesitate to share things with him. Maybe he does say what I need to hear... or maybe he's another one who 'doesn't get it'." I shake my head in disgust. "But I hate those words. Who am I to judge others?"

She grabs my face and makes me look at her. I stare deep into those ruby red eyes, full of passion and mystery, full of a strange magic that I will never fully understand. I swear I glimpse infinity in them.

"You know who you are." She whispers the name God gave me in Colorado. "Maybe you don't see clearly. But listen to your heart. You have a good head on your shoulders, and good instincts. Perfect? No. But still good." I admit, I'm starting to tear up. "I know it may be hard to trust others, and yeah, maybe some of them don't get it. Maybe sometimes you don't either. But that's no reason not to speak truth."

"I know. Thank you, Ruby."

"Anytime, boss." She almost gives me a friendly nuzzle, but the sound of a tiger clearing his throat stops her. "Heh. Sorry, hun. Old habits die hard." She settles for ruffling my hair a little. "Just keep moving forward. You'll get there."

"I hope so." I smile and shrug. "So... about the knife thing..."

"It may not be worth staying in. You need income, hun. Nice as the money is, it's not going to feed you. Either get your fluffy ass in gear or find new work. But whatever you do, don't dawdle. Remember the words on your door?"

"Yeah, I do. Adam brought great trouble on us by dawdling. By doing nothing. And then just going with the flow, for whatever reason."

"Aye. So decide. And try not to get all uptight about whether your mother is right or not. You still have good judgment. It just needs a little workout."

"I suppose so."

She smiled again, gave me a small peck on the cheek, then got up and pulled something out of her pocket.

"What's that?"

"A present. For you."

My hands take a moleskin journal from hers, the cool leather smooth to the touch. The front is... embossed? Embroidered? I don't really know the right term. There's a pause as I'm pulled out by dad's alarm going off. I need to tell him when he gets back from his run. Upon my return, I look at the names on the front, mind and hers. I open the journal. There, written on the inside in colorful ink, including separate colors for prose, my lines, and hers, is this entire event. I can't help but turn it a few pages, briefly scanning things. I reach the end and my vision blurs, making my head swim.

"Whoa, easy!"

Ruby shuts the journal and the feeling's gone. I look up in shock and wonder.

"What the hell?"

"Sorry. You can't look at the last page, boss. The meta fiction paradox will drive you nuts. I had to take steps."

"Ah. So this dizzy feeling is your fault then?"

"Hey, we all have to live in that head of yours. I'd prefer my home didn't resemble Cthulu's penthouse. Things are twisted enough in here."

"Tell me about it."

She laughs and shakes her head. The tiger whose name I never can remember comes over and holds her from behind. Ruby blushes because he's pretty damn big. Certain parts of his anatomy are no doubt making themselves familiar with her lower back. Sometimes, I think he's even bigger, but she'll never give me details. Well, except for the earlier images, but only as flashes.

"So, what's this then? A record of some kind?"

"Yeah. It'll jot down whatever happens here, between us. And I think I can make more for the others, or just modify this one. If you ever need to talk, we're always available."

"Heh. I guess talking to myself is sometimes the only way to get a proper conversation sometimes."

"Yeah. And a reminder of who and what you are." She stretches up and back, grasping a pair of striped shoulders. His arms come down and encircle her. I could only guess at the full range of motivations. "If you can't get a cheer team elsewhere, you can always come here."

"Yeah. And if I ever doubt my passion, I suppose I can just camp outside of your room."

She blushes while he laughs, a full and rich thing that echoes through the caverns. She bats at me, but can't escape his grip. I dodge the blow with ease, grinning back at her.

"Pervert. But at least you're an honest one."

"Damn straight." I smile and look down at the journal. I run my fingers over her name and mine. It doesn't quite feel right, like the other should be here too. But I guess she can just make more. Might be only fair. "I guess I should work on filling this then. Might prove useful."

"Yeah. Share as you see fit. Just don't put anything scandalous in it. And... do try to avoid anything that might cause more drama then it's worth."

"Like some of my thoughts from... this weekend?"

"Yeah. You should keep that to yourself. Besides, I think the devil's influence is too strong on you sometimes during those things. You've gotta start wearing your armor to them. If nothing else, it might get the demons off your back."

"Aye. I won't waste another weekend or evening on being restless and... well..."

She giggles at my blush. I just stick my tongue out at her, remembering how it looked on her earlier. I sigh and put the journal down on my desk.

"Thanks, Ruby. Good to know you're looking out for me."

"Have to, boss. If I didn't, things would get pretty dark and empty in here. And none of us wants that to happen." She looks up at the shelf with the box and the My Little Pony figurenes and scowls. "Almost none of us, anyway." I try to ignore the ghost of a chuckle that floats through my mind.

"Yeah. I know." I stretch and sit up straighter. Except in reverse order. Reality is affecting things a bit, and my brother-in-law's piano playing is drowning out my personal music. I stop the player for now. "Thanks for the pep talk. I needed it."

"What's a muse for? Just be sure and get employed. We can make things fit to any schedule, hun. You know that. And I want you independent. The stronger you are, the better the writing." A flash of mischief and joy glints from her eye as she smiles. "And the better the writing, the brighter you shine."

"Heh. Right. Thanks again." I get up and the tiger lets her go long enough for me to hug her. "Take care of yourself. I'll cya in the morning, or as soon as I can manage."

"You better! These things aren't gonna write themselves!" She chuckles and walks away, before two striped arms grab her and lift her off her feet, a shriek and giggles bouncing around the rock walls.

"Give her a reward from me, man. I think she deserves, oh... maybe a couple hours, give or take... two..."

"Oh geez... you're gonna kill me, hun!"

"Not a chance, Ruby." All I can see is her blushing face and her toes around that buff, massive frame, her eyes twinkling despite her consternation with me. Their bedroom door shuts and the sound-proofing does its job. I pick up the thing on my desk and regard it. It has potential. Oh, sure, I could make a killer of an erotic story. I know I could. Maybe it wouldn't be as good as some of the others out there, but it's not hard to do. All it takes is knowing what to say and how to say it. That's all there is to writing. It's the subtleties, the little character quirks and tying up loose ends, that trips up so many people. Subtlety I grasp, if not well. But I don't want to be known for that kind of writing. I give it a rinse in the sink as I take it apart, flushing the lust slop into the waste disposal. When I'm done, there's a few interesting characters and a single, gleaming gem of an idea in the remains. The characters still have some lust and grit on them. I can work with that. Sometimes, in the forging process, such things just burn off. All that matters is that I keep them safe.

I dry them all off and deposit them into a container together, closing it and setting it on the desk next to the journal. I can tell things are wrapping to a close. It's a gut instinct, a feeling I've had for years. I've still managed to stretch it at times. I guess I'll learn how to cut it down eventually and end things earlier. For now, I sit down, take out a label, and figure out what to call this thing.

Sometimes, all I need is a few moments to myself. Even if that means talking to imaginary friends. Doesn't bother me none. There are worse ways to treat this brand of insanity. Wouldn't you agree?