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Who do you envy in the world, and why?

I don't really believe in envying anyone. It seems like a wasted emotion, a whole realm of misplaced and pointless exertion. Most things that are envied, a person can get if they want them enough or work hard enough, something like that. It's easy to hate someone for what they have if you're too lazy to try for it yourself. Hating is easy. It's getting further away from that hate and making it into something more that makes a person into something more. And we really can have anything that we want, it's just a matter of wanting it enough to go out and get it.

But with that all in mind, if I absolutely had to choose a person I envied and why, I think I'd choose a mindset rather than a specific person.

I would most envy a person who could go to sleep at night without any kind of burden on their mind. That's something, a luxury, really, that I don't get to do or experience. That would be someone worth envying, a person who can lay down and close their eyes and just drift into a more relaxed, content state of mind, a real kind of sleep. Something that was luxurious and real, restful and complete.

That kind of sleep is one I haven't had in years. I can remember the last time I did, and it was when I was much younger, when I still wore glitter on my cheekbones and shiny lip gloss to pretend at being more grown up than I was. When I was six years old I could still pirouette around in satin shoes, pretend they were ballet slippers and think I could dance if I wanted to. That was the last time I had a real sleep like that, when I was young and still believed in happy endings.

If there's anyone who still can sleep like that at night, that would be the person I would envy.

Muse: Lisa Cuddy
Fandom: House M.D.
Word Count: 328

“The child must know that he is a miracle, that since the beginning of the world there hasn't been, and until the end of the world there will not be, another child like him.” Pablo Casals

She was too small and young to know just how precious she was, but I knew. I'd known from the moment I saw her, from when I first took her in my arms and felt the tiny face press itself into my shoulder. There is, always has been and always will be something completely magical about the beginning of a new life, with all of the wonder and curiosity that comes from new, blinking eyes. When Rachel was seeing things for the first time I was there to see her see them, and while that sentence feels as if I've strung too many pronouns together, end over end, it's the truth.

For awhile, I thought that all I wanted was a child. But I realized later, somewhere along the lines of things coming together as they will and fate taking whatever kind of course it so desires (whether we want it to or not) that I had been given so much more than what I had wanted. And that's the thing about miracles, how they come in small and unexpected packages and in an equal means of places, how there's no way to know for sure when you think you see them, but that they do exist.

Rachel doesn't know how much of a miracle she is. But some day, I'll tell her. I know she won't believe me, but that's all right because I'll never get tired of telling her.

Muse: Dr. Lisa Cuddy
Fandom: House M.D.
Word Count: 241

Title: The Colour of a Kiss
Muse: Lisa Cuddy
Pairing: House/Cuddy
Word Count: 808
Notes: For katernater and a realmof_themuse prompt response.
Prompt: Lipstick.

( Spoilers for the season five finale of House )

Title: Playing a Hunch
Pairing: Lisa Cuddy/Fox Mulder
Summary: A strange murder at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital sparks the attention of Special Agent Fox Mulder who is certain the crime is connected to another case from the past.
Note: A gift for katernater.

( “Doctor Cuddy, to most people my work itself doesn't make any sense. That doesn't make it any less true.”  )

It's better to be looked over than overlooked. -Mae West

When I was in college, I used to hate being looked over. There were different kinds of ways to be looked over, sure, but I hated the dissecting, undressing looks that came from pompous graduate students who thought the world was handed to them on a platter just because they could play polo or some other equally pretentious game with a reasonable degree of finesse. There were mindless girls for that, who would care about falling into that category, but I wasn't one of them. I had other things to do with my time, better things, ones that required the actual exercising of brain cells and applying myself to something that wouldn't be easy to obtain.

But it's funny, how it feels to have someone look at you. And I think the funny part comes from thinking that you know what you want, then finding out just how wrong you were. Because I was sure I never wanted to feel another pair of roving eyes in my lifetime, that I'd had more than my fill of being visibly undressed by the eyes of a person I didn't know and didn't care to.

And then I audited his endocrinology class. And then he looked at me, and I realized that if he looked at me with the same dissecting gaze that I hated, chances were that I wouldn't mind.

Muse: Lisa Cuddy
Fandom: House M.D.
Word Count: 1,051

Prompt: We didn't plan this!
Title: Under Cover of Night
Notes: for katernater; our roleplay threads are used as backstory.

( Spoilers for 5x23 under the cut. )

Love me, because love doesn't exist, and I have tried everything that does.
- Jonathan Safran Foer.

Muse: Lisa Cuddy
Pairing: House/Cuddy
Notes: Inspired from my constant, wonderful writing with the House to my Cuddy, katernater

( three times he left (and one time he stayed.) )

Muse Name: Lisa Cuddy
Fandom: House M.D.
Prompt Number: Prompt Week 7
Warnings/Disclaimers: N/A
Title: Inquiries of Awe and Wonder
Word Count: N/A
Comments: Here.

Muse Inquiries - Awe and Wonder:

1. Would your muse consider himself/herself a cynic?

The knee jerk reaction to this question is to say no, of course she isn't a cynic, Cuddy is a doctor and focused on the medical profession, and how could a doctor be a cynic? But thinking more intently and closely on this, I'd say that to some kind of extent, Cuddy must have held a degree of cynicism. She'd keep it secret, or as secret as she could keep it from people who knew her well, but she's seen too much death and loss through her life and in her career to not feel some kind of cynicism, at least in the back of her mind. She'd wonder why something that happened tragically had to happen that way, what could have happened differently to to bring another, better outcome, or something along those same lines. It wouldn't become all consuming and she would never sink into a state of complete despair, but she would feel the ache of want for things to be different, for the better, and she would shed tears over the loss but she'd never become completely cynical.

2. What things make your muse emotional?

Anything personal. Cuddy takes personal criticism harshly, even if she doesn't always show it. She prides herself on making herself into the best person she can be, both at her job and off the clock, and if she's ever confronted with an imperfection of her own and forced to face it, she tends to shrink away rather than face it. She isn't weak by any means, she's strong willed and capable, but she doesn't like to openly admit to her own faults and face them. She also has a strong emotional attachment to children, and any time a child is admitted to the hospital she tends to take a personal interest in them. She doesn't like to see children in pain, and she wants to do whatever she can to make sure they're given the gift of a full, strong life.

3. Does anything trigger a sense of awe or wonder in them?

I think Cuddy is always brought to feel wonder by the miracle of life, even though she sees it and hears of it frequently when she's at work. She cares so much about children and wanting to have a child of her own that I don't think that kind of miracle would ever become repetitive or redundant to her. She always seems to care so deeply for children that I think this would have to be a consistent thing in her life.

4. What sorts of things impress your muse?

Cuddy is impressed on a professional level by the works of modern medicine and the things that can come from medical science. She finds comfort in seeing that the work she's devoted her life to is serving to make the world a better place, even if it's in one city, and I think those are feelings that comfort her at the end of every day. I also think she's impressed by love, not just passing infatuation but love that lasts and endures, because that's something rare and precious that can't be replicated. Cuddy appreciates the wonders in life, the things that can't be easily categorized and referenced, the things that are the most real and that should always be the most important.

5. Does your muse inspire awe in others? How do they feel about that?

I don't think Cuddy knows that she inspires awe in anyone else, or if she does she doesn't give it too much thought because she turns the focus of her mind elsewhere. But I do think she inspires awe in those she sees every day at the hospital, from the patients to the doctors, interns and students who interact with her, because she cares so deeply for the work she does and the lives attached and entwined to it. She has a good, strong and warm heart, and it comes through in the work she does.

6. What sorts of things immediately capture your character's attention?

A child's laugh, a loving look, the intensity of a touch that might or might not be accidental, the way a heart can skip a beat with a kiss, the promise and drive of a job well done, and many other things.

7. Are there things, whether secret or known, that are weaknesses in your character's defenses?

Her own feelings and emotions are Cuddy's biggest weaknesses, and the inadequacies she feels that she possesses in spite of her constant drive to be the best possible person she can be. It sounds concise and succinct, but it's probably the best way I can think of to describe Cuddy.

8. Describe a moment when your character was truly humbled/awed/inspired by something in nature. Maybe it was the first time they saw the ocean, or the first time they saw a new life.

I'm coming back to the moment when Joy was born. Cuddy was in the room where Becca was delivering her, even though the birth was early and in impossibly difficult circumstances. When Joy cried and Cuddy held her in her arms, there was awe and pure, unadulterated wonder there. She was happy, and it was a happiness that came from nature, from a place other than herself.

9. Does technology or science awe your character?

Both. Cuddy faces science and its mysteries every day, and technology at the same time. I think that if she had to choose one over the other it would be science because of the medical advances that come from it, but that doesn't mean technology is any less wonderful to her.

10. Is your character more awed by that which they understand or that which they don't?

The latter. Cuddy enjoys discovering mysteries, and even more wondering what the answers might be. It's the wonder of the unknown that turns her head.

I was going to submit an application to muse_academy because I wanted to join in the fun over there, and so I requested a hold for Cuddy. Today, I received a response back from the moderator saying that she's heard from another community's moderator what a delight I am to have in her community, so she's foregoing the application and extending me an invitation to join. It was such a kind, wonderful thing to hear, and to receive that kind of praise about Cuddy and the way I write her really made my day.

Thank you to everyone that writes with me - on this journal or on another for Cuddy! (<3 katernater) - for continuing to inspire me and just for reading what I put up here at all. It really means a lot to me to know I'm doing justice to a character I really love.

(a gift-fic for katernater and ticcyyy. )

"When shall we three meet again
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?" Macbeth

The slope of his shoulders was a downward signal of admitted defeat, not yet recognized but on the cusp of happening, with fine tremors in the back of his neck the last dying throes of resistance. Anyone could voice their unwillingness to give up, the vehement desire to oppose adversity and overcome the trials and tribulations that came with a day's breath or a life's opening of eyes, from great to small or significant to not. He was the kind of man who cared about the great and small and the significant and not, weighed out separately and all wrapped together, about the impacts they had on the people around him. It was in his nature to fix and repair and heal, by conversation or touch, and when he couldn't, he carried the weight of those times on his shoulders. Now, he looked as if the world were there, carving an indentation at the base of his neck. She was struck with the memory of a story of mythology from her school days, of Icarus rolling a great ball up a hill only to have it melt in the heat of the sun as it became closer. There was no reprieve, no melting of tension or weight from him, in fact it seemed to increase and solidify, double its mass.

Cuddy moved to stand behind him, to look over his shoulder by means of her peripheral vision. The rain hadn't stopped for hours, leaving the world in a crowd of pale, granite clouds that showed no break, instead covered the sky like a heavy winter's blanket. Her hand lifted, fingers outstretched in the means of touching his shoulder but she was moving uncharacteristically slow as if she were a weary swimmer treading water.

Wilson didn't look at her and at first she was grateful, because telling a grieving man their loved one was hovering at death's edge was easier done without eye contact. Later, Cuddy wouldn't remember what exact words she had used to tell him to say good-bye to Amber, only that it was a gentle deviation from the professional condolences she had been taught to give when she was a medical student with sprung curls and the rest of her life ahead of her. She wouldn't remember how long they stood there, her arms around his shaking shoulders and his tears soaking the shoulder of her blouse, or the confidences he gave up to her in choked whispers about Amber, admittances never made and now given to the open air, time and infinity itself.

What Cuddy would remember most would be the rain.

“Who wants to watch monsters not get killed?”
-Red Forman ‘That 70s Show’

Monsters don't live solely under the bed or in the closet of an unsuspecting child. I remember from childhood that a friend of mine refused to take the stairs at school because she was certain long, hard fingers were going to grab hold of her ankle from between the steps and yank her to the basement, never to return. It seems strange now, but at the time it was almost - almost - understandable. What child isn't afraid of things that they can't see?

But as I grew up, I realized that monsters were real. They weren't the fang-toothed creatures that imaginations dream up, but they did exist. They were small, sometimes undetectable until they had taken their victim, and dangerous. That's the problem with bacteria and viruses, no one can see them coming. We can take all necessary and proper precautions, do as much as we can to keep ourselves and those around us safe, but when an illness takes hold there's nothing to be done to completely erase it. Not, that is, by the person who's contracted it. They fall sick and come to us, and place their trust in medical science.

And that's where the fear sets in. Because monsters are frightening things to anyone that encounters them, not just out of fear for ourselves but for those around us - the same kind of fear we experienced as children. And even now, with monsters that we have the means and tools to fight, there's no guarantee they won't come back from their hiding place under the bed.

Muse: Lisa Cuddy
Fandom: House M.D.

“Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire.” – William Butler Yeats

Looking at the interns could be like looking into the dusty glass of a mirror with a surface clouded by years of uncleanliness. There could be similarities if someone took a cloth and bothered to wipe away doubt, but the interns were often too afraid of tripping over their own feet in front of the boss to worry about wiping anything away that wasn't physical. Cuddy had recognized the same fear in their eyes that had filtered through her bloodstream during her first few weeks of medical school. People combated those demons in different ways, but the hospital's structure and chain of being didn't leave room for too much trial and error. When someone failed, there was a chance someone else might die.

But there was something refreshing about seeing the new, wide-eyed possibility walk through the hospital doorways each morning. Every pressed, white coat was like a beacon of new enthusiasm and promise, of all of the potential that had to be inside, because no one would be able to make it to this place without it.

All of them wouldn't make it through, but to Cuddy, the ones that did made the process and progression worth every moment.

Muse: Lisa Cuddy
Fandom: House M.D.
Word Count: 200

What is the greatest joy you have ever felt?

Her name, ironically enough, was Joy. I remember the small roundness of her face and the way her eyes squinted away from bright light, the way that babies tend to do when they're too skittish about light and the world around them. It's what happens before that refusal gives way to the unrestricted wonder of youth, and I think it might be one of the most wonderful things a child can experience. It's just a shame they don't remember those years, what it feels like to see the world for the first time and have no impression other than those first feelings.

But the greatest happiness about Joy wasn't when I thought I'd be adopting her. It came later, after I'd shed away the restraints and shackles of my own heartache and let myself think about what had really happened. Yes, I'd been close to adopting her, but the truth was that Becca, somehow, made the right choice. And later on, when I'd had the chance to think, I realized that the best thing for Joy was to be with her mother, who wanted to give their life together a chance.

Looking back now, I'm not sure it's classified as the greatest joy I've ever experienced but it was definitely a joy I'll never be able to forget.

Muse: Lisa Cuddy
Fandom: House M.D.
Word Count: 218

Writers Block hits us all from time to time. What are some of the methods you employ to work your way through it?

I find that when it comes to Cuddy, I don't necessarily hit writers' block as much as I hit a stall as to what I want to do with her next. Cuddy has so much potential that I really love exploring her as a character, but sometimes I hit a dead end when it comes to what kind of situation she should belong in next. I have a soft spot for taking her back to the past and exploring the days when she was an undergraduate student - thankfully, I have an amazing writing partner who plays House for me who loves to do those same kinds of things - but sometimes when it comes to current happenings on the show, I find myself questioning where I want to take her in the next prompt response, namely because I'm a huge fan of continuity and might have reason to change my mind when the next week's episode airs.

But to get around these more difficult times, I tend to go through past role-playing logs and threads and explore what we've written together in the past. There's so much amazing, wonderful character development there, and after I read those for awhile I find that I feel much more comfortable taking on a new demon of a scenario that might have me a little bit nervous. The truth is that taking on complicated situations is one of the best parts of muse development, but I think everyone has the same kind of fear about writing something and falling on their face in the process. Granted, we are all free to fail, but no one likes to fail because it can be discouraging.

Still, when it comes to Cuddy, she's the muse I've been writing for the longest since I started these communities. And I love all of the developments I've been able to experience with her during that wonderful time. So that in itself is definitely a greater priority than worrying about failing.

Theatre

The lights had dimmed twenty minutes ago and the curtain had lifted two afterward. Murmured conversation punctuated sporadically in fifteen second intervals at first and then faded into the silence that came with appreciation for the arts. Two rows back a child was fidgeting, but by some kind of unspoken grace he wasn't kicking the back of the chair and antagonizing the person behind her. That would have taken on a world of “shh”-ing which couldn't have ended well before the first act, and Cuddy had wanted to actually spend the evening enjoying the theatre instead of walking away with a tension headache.

Wilson was shifting his position, his arm bumping against the outside of hers and his fingers making anxious patterns against the knob of the arm rest. It wasn't often that he expressed outward discomfort, but Cuddy hadn't seen him in this kind of setting since the hospital poker game, and even that was a bit of a stretch. Tuxedos weren't too far of a stretch when it came to imagining his dress-to-impress attire, but at the same time she hadn't been quite prepared for his holding the door for her, insisting on valet parking and the offering of wine, which she had declined because that shifted the balance of comfort in a way she wasn't prepared for.

But when his arm shifted across the back of her chair, a prickle of unease crept between her shoulder blades. There was no way to draw back without appearing rude and hurting Wilson's feelings was the last thing that she wanted. Not when he was one of the few people who had professed any kind of actual concern for her outside of the hospital. Cuddy's relationships and friendships were strained and complicated, either because she lacked the time to properly invest in them or because somewhere along the progression of her career, she had forgotten what it was like to do anything outside of the hospital's sterile, white walls.

Wilson had changed his mind, withdrawing his arm from where it had been considering her shoulders like a frightened animal. The retreat registered a reason to silently feel relief because that physical expression would transcend a boundary she wasn't ready for.

And yet she had to admit, if only to herself, this was the first kind of date she had let herself go on since the night House came to her door in the late night hours and interrupted what she had thought to be the first good chance at a relationship in months. It had disappeared as quickly as it had happened, fading off and away to no more than a blip on a computer screen, with perfectly logical reasoning behind it.

After all, what man wanted to date a woman who was in love with someone else?

The realization was there, creeping up the back of her neck like a small, clawed demon, preparing to make a nest and set up residence, and Cuddy was struck with the urge to reach a hand under the veil of her hair with the pretense of trying to scratch it away. But there was no cure for that kind of ailment, no way to dance around or avoid it, try as she might have been for the past years.

No matter who was sitting beside her or what setting the evening might be painted in, her mind would always be on one thing.

The colour of the back drop is the same blue as one of his shirts.

Muse: Lisa Cuddy
Fandom: House M.D.
Word Count: 587

I promise I'm going to get to all of that good writing I've been promising, but I saw something come up tonight and wanted to address it briefly before I went off to get some sleep.

There seems to be a good bit of negativity flying about in LJ world, a lot of injured feelings in regards to character portrayal and voice and things like that. And to be quite honest, it makes me sad. It seems like there are specified cliques and things of writers, and if you aren't "in" with those people then you run the risk of being either passed by or ridiculed for the way you're writing a character. While these things aren't life by any means, they are supposed to be a form of recreation and fun, and it can be hard to have fun doing something you enjoy when you're being picked at and picked apart, told you're not as good at a character as Person X, etc. In fact, it can hurt feelings and just take the fun right out of something that you used to love.

I won't lie, I feel this way frequently, and it hurts. I've even had it happen recently with Rose and Cuddy. Don't get me wrong, it doesn't feel good. But it makes me more sad to see others feel discouraged and saddened when they should be having fun.

So to all of you out there writing muse prompts, fics, role playing, anything like that - do yourself a favor and don't ever let it stop being fun. Ignore the popularity contest and all the things that can be negative, and just do something that you enjoy doing it. If the popular kids don't want to play with you, then it's not your loss - it's theirs. Just have fun, be good to yourself, and don't think for a minute that one person's critique is the final say. Because every person out there is going to write differently, see a character in a situation differently, and make different choices. That doesn't mean one person's right and the other's wrong - it just means there are two different stories or responses out there to read, and the more the merrier, right?

Have some fun. It's therapeutic, I promise.

♥