Susan Foreman is a very sociable young Time Lord. She loves meeting new people, and is, consequently, always open for plotting and RP.

As a mun, I welcome criticism and advice, as well as canon corrections. No one is infallible, and, although this is my interpretation of Susan, I welcome input from other fans. It’s nice to know what works and what doesn't!

Comments are screened, just in case, but you're very welcome to contact me on AIM or by email, if you prefer. The details are all in my journal profile.

I can also be reached fairly easily via my personal journal, atraphoenix, but please note that I am in the UK and currently operating on GMT.

Hello? This is Susan Foreman. Did you want to speak to me?

David would say, later, that it hadn’t been much of a wedding. They had a home then – a farm and a life and two beautiful children who loved to hear the story of how their adopted parents had met – and it was easier to joke about the past than dwell on it.

( Susan would always say that that really depended on what you wanted a wedding to be.Collapse )

Prompt: Home
Word Count: 614

Susan didn’t dream of Gallifrey anymore. Not really. She dreamt instead of a planet with twin suns and shining silver trees, a haven of peace in a universe filled with wildness and uncertainty. She dreamt of a glittering citadel and a population of laughing, happy individuals.

Gallifrey certainly wasn’t like that. It had never been peaceful. Beautiful, perhaps, but laughter was as alien to Time Lords as any of the technology she’d encountered in Foreman’s junkyard.

Time Lord politics rippled constantly through the Capitol. Each fresh wave tarnished the walls and turned the elaborate robes of the High Council to rust and ruin. Her departure hadn’t changed that. Even her grandfather – who had been more influential that he’d wanted to be and more influential than the other Time Lords had ever expected – hadn’t changed that.

( She smoothed out the creases while she slept.Collapse )

Prompt: Alien
Word Count: 449

[An Extract from 'The Journal of Impossible Things'.]

( There was a new face in my dreams tonight.Collapse )

Prompt: Love
Word Count: 573

Somehow - and I really have no idea how - myself and Susan have made it into the arpea_awards! This is the first time I've ever been nominated for something like this and it means an awful lot.

Susan has been nominated for 'Choice Female Canon Character' and I've been nominated for 'Best Drama / Action Writer' and 'Best Romance Writer' (as atraphoenix).

Although it would be wonderful to win - and you should all, you know, hurry and vote for me - I'm delighted to have been nominated in the first place. Thank you so much!

( “It’s up to you, my dear,” he said, softly. “I’ve lived out my life on Gallifrey. I’ve loved and I’ve lost and I’ve grown old. Your life is stretching out ahead of you. I can’t make your decisions for you anymore.”Collapse )

Prompt: What is your 'turn left' moment?
Word Count: 2399

Luke Smith has a new friend. She lives in the shed at the bottom of his garden.

Her name is Susan Foreman.

( Maria and Clyde are fairly certain that she’s imaginary.Collapse )

Prompt Friendship
Word Count: 1061

Susan Foreman had the same ridiculous capacity for hope as her grandfather.

She was desperately willing to believe that she could find some trace of the person he’d once been. Little Susan - no longer that little, actually - was all too happy to kiss the same man who’d bounced her on his knee when she was a Time Tot, trying to draw out the less than savoury memories as if she was sucking poison from a wound.

The Master had seduced her, luring her into his bed and away from her husband and her life on Earth, yet she refused to consider him a true villain. She was still so deliciously naïve, and it was rather nice to know that some things never changed.

( They’d been rather close, back on Gallifrey.Collapse )

Prompt: It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.
Word Count: 725

Susan was washing the dishes when she received the call from Gallifrey.

It was a ridiculously domestic image, as well as an unnecessary one. By the 22nd century, machinery had rendered most chores irrelevant, but, from time to time, Susan liked to do them herself. After all, nothing brought you down to Earth more than ironing.

The plate fell from her hands, shattering as it hit the ground in a shower of bubbles and lukewarm water. David came rushing in a moment later to find his wife leaning against the draining board with her head in her hands.

“Susan?” he asked, touching her shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

She looked up at him with wide eyes and suds in her hair. Her beloved husband. Older now, but not old. Not yet. There were traces of grey in his hair, and fine lines around his eyes, but his smile hadn’t changed.

Her lips formed the words before her brain had really processed the question, let alone the event that had prompted it.

“Oh, nothing. Don’t worry about me, David.”

( They came for her three days later.Collapse )

Prompt: My life is changing every day.
Word Count: 1034