Theatrical Muse

I feel like there's some big expectation for me to start waxing poetical about redemption and of course it's possible, don't be silly, it shouldn't even be a question. But I'm not going to, because while I think the idea of redemption is amazing and there are certainly people who have striven for and would be considered to have achieved it, I also think it's a very subjective concept. And that it is just that: a concept.

People do questionable things every day. Some of those things are deemed horrific and evil by society's standards. Some of them are deemed to be only minor infractions. Naturally, we think the latter is easier to overcome than the former, but if someone consistently errs on a smaller scale is it really better than someone committing a more major crime once? Are they more worthy of being “saved”, a “better” candidate for redemption? Society seems to think so. We'd rather help and rehabilitate the habitual petty thief than the one-time murderer.

What does that say about us as a society, then? What makes the majority the final word on who has been redeemed, who is worthy to be considered a good person again when we don't really want to put the work in to help everyone on the same level? It's a bit hypocritical, frankly. Only those who conform, who act the way society thinks we should are acceptable.

I suppose the better question to be asked is what is redemption? Is it acceptance by the general public? Is it truly enough for everyone else to think you've changed, you've bettered yourself if you don't feel it yourself? There are plenty of people out there who can fool most of the people most of the time into thinking they're truly repentant for their past behaviour. Does it make them redeemed because society believes them?

I don't think so. To me, redemption is something that only you can give yourself. You have to accept your past deeds, realize there's something inside you that needs to be changed and then make that change for yourself, not because someone else wants you to. Support is wonderful, occasionally vital, but when it comes right down to it, you need to be comfortable with who you really are, mistakes, flaws and all.

It's also not something I think there are half-ways about. You either have to want to make up for everything you feel badly about, or not at all. You can't pick and choose; the change has to be complete. Being okay with robbery but not with murder is splitting hairs. You either want to be a good person, or you don't, and you have to make that choice for yourself. And if you're okay with who you are, regardless of what you've done in the past, then you don't have anything to be redeemed for.


Comments here.


Muse: Clark Kent
Fandom: Smallville
Word count: 481

The way society seems to be going these days, I don’t think a lot of people would do anything. Most would just walk right past the person, and a few might even spare a quick glance. Here’s the thing: if I were the one crying in the street, I would appreciate it if someone took a few minutes from their lives to see what was wrong. So, what would I do? I would stop, ask the person if they needed any help, and try to get them somewhere a little safer.

 Most people would likely scoff if they heard me – Yeah, sure, they’d think; she’d really stop. I guess just because you say something doesn’t mean it’s true, but actions speak louder than words. I know what it’s like to need help, to reach out to those around you and be turned away every time. I know what it feels like to be alone and scared, and if I can do something to help that, damn right I’ll do it.

 There’s a major lack of human interaction these days. Everyone is so concerned with themselves; they don’t have time for anyone else. But the next time you see someone who looks like they need help, stop and think. If that person were you, would you want someone to take a moment and care? Or would you want them to walk right by, as if you didn’t exist at all?

Muse: Nancy Thompson
Fandom: A Nightmare on Elm Street
Word Count: 293

Cheer someone up.

Brooke Davis
One Tree Hill
724 words

The low grade, tabloid paper wrinkled and smudged under the Joker's fingertips as he went through the motions of smoothing out the page again. It had only just been retrieved from the other side of the dimly lit room he had been using as a hideout since his last production. Artists -- true artists -- required time between projects to reflect and recharge. The bruised ribs from his last brush with the Batman had required healing, as well.

Batman. The grainy photo on the page was the focus of the Joker's attention. Just as it had been for the last few hours. Poor quality to begin with, it was now nearly unrecognizable after several trips across the room in ball form.

"Batman. The Batman. Gotham's brooding hero." His tongue snaked out across his split bottom lip that would have healed by now, if he'd only left it alone. He wasn't the sort to leave well enough alone, though. "And what, pray tell, does he have to brood about, hmmm? He has, if I do say so myself, a rather, ah, unique reason to smile."

His own smile stretched his face into a rictus mask. To say it made him look deranged would be to suggest he ever looked anything but.

"You need to get out more, Batsy. Circ-u-late." He patted the picture as he looked over to the worktable shoved into the corner. A mass of gears, wires, and tubes shined merrily under the warped lighting. An LED display waited patiently to count down. "A man needs a purpose to make him smile. Let's see if we can find you one, shall we?"

The Joker
Batman
Word count: 273

Let’s be honest here – some strangers are more user-friendly than others. Some strangers inspire you to stop somewhere between the foyer and your limousine – you ask if you can help, maybe you invite them out to dinner, ask them to join you – there’s those kind of strangers. In my experience they have long legs and long hair but every man has different tastes. And what man ever could resist that damsel in distress, if only for a night? I’m a busy guy but even I can spare a night of my life in the interests of helping out a fellow lost soul.

I’m a helpful guy.

Just ask the Gotham Ballet Company.

Then you have other strangers. Not so user-friendly. Little rough around the edges, little peculiar, little… let’s just say it. Crazy. They’re busy working the strange back into stranger and more power to them – but – I have my hands full with my enthusiasm for the ballet and really I believe in knowing your limitations. I’m not a social worker or a caseworker or whatever those people are who deal with strange random crying people are called. I believe in leaving that sort of thing to people who --- aren’t me.

I just sign the cheques.

And support the arts.




Bruce Wayne/Batman
210 Words

( The boy wasn't a patient of Cecily's. )

Muse: Cecily Stephenson
Original Character
Word count: 296

289 - Cheer someone up: No. 290 - You pass a complete stranger on the street and notice they are crying. What do you do? I am not even dignifying this with a response.

Isabel Giovanni // World of Darkness // too few to count
A proper response for TM#288 to follow this weekend.

As an angel, Castiel doesn't need sleep. Sleep is a human requirement after all, and not being human, Castiel has no need for it. This is not to say he does not rest at all, but rest is different from sleep.

( ...... )



Muse: Castiel
Fandom: Supernatural.
Word count: 782.

The topic for the week of 3 - 9 July 2009 is:

You pass a complete stranger on the street and notice they are crying. What do you do?

1. Put current season TV spoilers behind a cut.
2. Your post must be a minimum of 150 words to count towards your community membership.
3. Put posts longer than 450 words behind a cut.
4. Put the topic number and/or text in the subject header of your post.
5. Sign your post with your muse's full name and fandom.

Reminder: To remain current, you must have answered at least one of Topics #287, 288, 289, 290 by 9 July 2009

The monitor lit up and crackled just a moment before the angry wail of a displeased infant flooded the room and woke Laine. Anrai was already getting out of bed, those keen púca ears of his not needing an electronic gadget to alert him to the baby down the hall. Irritating to Laine at moments like these. Still, she sat up and scrubbed a hand over her face before addressing her husband. “Don’t bother, darlin’. I need to feed her anyhow.”

Seeing as it was nearly two a.m., the Irishman didn’t argue. He simply flopped back onto the bed and turned over, face in pillow. Laine smacked him on the ass on her way out of the room. “Damned fool. What I even seen in you…” ( Read more )

Why would it not be possible? Every one of us deserves redemption. None of this is permanent, none is worth treating that some slight is worth an eternity of disownment.

I suppose it would not be possible if you did not truly want it, or you did not believe it was possible. In that situation, redemption falls squarely on your shoulders.

If you compare it to redeeming a voucher, then what I say may make more sense. You have this slip, and to collect what you want, you must turn it in. You must 'redeem' it, but the power to do it is in your hands. If you lose it then you must find a way to replace it. If your chance is missed, then you must find another.

Concluding, I will say again that redemption is possible, but only if you want it. It will not walk to your door and say 'you have your redemption'.

Muse:Addie (Idunn)
Fandom: Mythology
Wordcount: 162

Me? Cheer somebody up? Huh. That's not usually my department. Kermit and Piggy and Fozzie and the others - they're the stars. It's their job to cheer people up and make them happy. Me? I'm just the go-fer. All I get to do is run errands for people.

Although, I did cheer somebody up the other day: Robin, Kermit's little nephew. He was sitting backstage on the stairs and looking pretty bummed. Apparently Kermit had promised Robin that he could have a spot in this week's upcoming show. But then there was a snafu with the scheduling and Kermit had to go back on his promise. I knew that Kermit hadn't done it out of spite, and Robin knew that too but it didn't help much to ease the disappointment.

I didn't have any more work to do for the day. So after getting permission from Kermit I spirited Robin away from the theater and took him down to the ice cream shop. We ordered milkshakes and sat and talked, and I was able to get Robin's mind off of being angry. By the time I took him home he was feeling a lot better.

Guess I'm better at cheering people up than I thought. And whaddaya know? I cheered myself up.

Muse: Scooter
Fandom: The Muppet Show
Word count: 212

Is redemption truly possible?

( Redemption )

Muse: Methos
Fandom: Highlander Universe
Words: Enough
Disclaimer: This answer is based on canon. Locked to those that know about him and what he is.

( except for some stubborn leaves (or, Domesticity for Dummies) )


Muse: The Doctor (Eleventh)
Misc Fandom/Doctor Who OC
Word Count: 367
Comments go here.

Yesterday was Canada Day. Canada Day is a lot like the fourth of July in the USA in that there's lots of fireworks, parades, and a national outpouring of pride and public drunkenness. Er, the latter is something I don't personally engage in.

I, and my team, were part of the festivities in Ottawa. Which in theory is fun, except it means a LOT of standing around, flashbulbs going off in your eyes, people yelling at you, and reporters asking stupid questions. (Do they really need to know what I had for breakfast?) So. "Fun" isn't exactly on the agenda, although you have to act like you're loving every minute.

And you know what you really don't want when you're surrounded by cameras and politicians and children? A grumpy ten-foot tall orange furry guy, or a skittish smartass feral mutant.

I am the leader, you know, so it's my job to keep morale up. Or something. So I did the only thing I COULD do once Walter started snapping at Eugene and Kyle looked ready to bolt.

I got everyone popsicles.

Hey, growing up it always shut my brothers and sister up. Apparently it works on everyone! Smiles all around.


Heather Hudson/Guardian II
Alpha Flight
200 Words

It was a prison: more than any jail could ever be. At least in jail she'd have other people around to talk to, and television and food and visitors. Here, she had nothing but Dave and her own thoughts as company. Three months she'd been trapped here, with no way out and no respite. Three months that, thanks to the weird way time passed on this side of reality, felt like at least a year. Maybe three years. She'd tried to count, but with no windows to follow the passage of the sun, there was no way to tell when one day ended and the next began.

Her sentence was finally - almost - over now. Just one more day, she thought. Or two? Again, there was no way to tell until Dave showed up and told her the date. The last time he'd been there, he'd told her she had 3 left. That felt like two days ago, but who knew? Until he was called back, or she was released, she wouldn't know for sure.

While she waited, she made a mental list of everything she had to do once she was free to resume her old life. Imagine that: Cordelia making lists. That only goes to show just how bored she's been.

( Time to prioritize )

Cordelia Chase
Buffy/Angel

Julie Madison – film star, the old fashioned kind that put effort into their celebrity and behaved with a sort of reverence towards it. Film star… and professional girlfriend to the rich and famous – in her own way as close as Gotham would have to a Princess, at least until the Crown Prince settled down and started to behave himself with the dignity his position required.

That, of course, seemed less and less likely with every passing year. The parties got wilder and the girlfriends less suitable and the rumours more colourful and Wayne himself made no attempt to repair his reputation, in fact he seemed to enjoy it. He lived his life as if it were either one wild party or one huge joke or both – a life of instantaneous gratification that revolted some and amused others. Wayne was flippant about the fact – he said it was a public service to ensure that the Good People of Gotham had someone they could always feel morally superior to. After all, nothing cheers someone up like a sense of self-righteousness, of superiority.

Not that in Gotham it should have been hard to find yourself a position of moral superiority. Gotham was rapidly declining into one of the most notorious cities in the country – known for her corruption and collection of career criminals and psychopaths and, of course, her masthead, her Dark Knight. She still thought of herself as the greatest city in the world but perhaps, more rightly, she was the greatest catastrophe – built with every advantage and yet turning on herself, killing herself from within.
( Read more... )




Bruce Wayne/Batman
1041 Words

( It's okay. )

X-Man II / X-Men

“I just want to go home, Daddy.” Nancy wraps her arms around her knees and fixes him with a stare. For a moment, father and daughter stare into each other’s eyes, before Donald Thompson breaks the contact and looks away.

 “I know that, baby. But you need to get better first.” His jaw tightens. “I need you to get better first.”

 Nancy glances around the visitation room – there’s no one within earshot, so she leans her body forward, lowering her voice. “You know I’m not crazy. Please, Daddy… you know I’m not. Why are you doing this to me?”

 When her father finally raises his eyes, she’s taken aback by the pain within them. If she looks hard, she can even see a thin sheen of tears. “Oh, Nancy. Nancy…” he trails off, his voice breaking. She’s in shock at the sight of her father, who she always thought of as invincible – he was a cop, for chrissake – displaying such raw emotion. “Nancy, why can’t you just admit it was all a dream and come home?” He’s actually pleading with her now, begging her. In that moment, Nancy realizes that her father will never be able to accept the truth. He knows what really happened to Tina, Glen, Rod, and her mother… but for all his strength, it wasn’t enough for this.

 She can continue to stick to her story, and spend the rest of her life – or at least, a good portion of it – in this damn hospital. Or… she could deny the truth, like her father had. She could soothe his pain with a few simple words.

 Nancy hesitates. Three years she had been in this place, and for three years she and her father had been opponents on opposite sides, each refusing to back down. Maybe it was time to cross the line, to get her life – and her Daddy – back.

 She reaches out and grasps his hands in hers, smiling sadly. “Okay,” she says softly. “I’ll do it. I’ll say it was all a dream, and Krueger was just a figment of my imagination, and I realize that now.” Somewhere within herself, she knows it’s a lie – she’ll never truly deny the truth – but for now, he doesn’t need to know that. He returns her smile, the first she’s seen from him in a while, and gives her hands a squeeze; and she knows that she did the right thing… for now, at least.

Muse: Nancy Thompson
Fandom: A Nightmare On Elm Street
Word Count: 408

The room is dark when she enters, the only light is that of the moon outside. It casts a bright yet yellowish glow into the large apartment, creating an eerie and almost ghoulish atmosphere. Jeanne-Marie pauses at the threshold, if she did not know who lived here she might feel uneasy. Scared even.( But she isn't.... )