Lucy Saxon

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"Hello. The caller you have tried to reach is unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone."

[beeeeeeeeeeep]

The I'D HIT IT Meme


x-posted to dreams_in_red.

[Because the idea hit my head like the proverbial anvil during the paradisa kink meme and then the others wanted to see it written. *is shot* Guys, I hope you don't mind the liberties I took with your muses, especially Inara as I don't know her canon AT ALL, and Bria, I hope this brings you some cheer during your work hours from hell! makemethe_hero, spongetastic, and gracefulwoman used with permission.]


Adam is the first to get to Lucy after she comes back; he knows her room number, and he knows well the way there. When he enters, she's huddled up against the backboard of her bed, still in the underwear she died in, looking into a hand mirror and tracing a finger along the faint spidery scars on her face. Those strange, jagged symbols weren't there, the last time Adam saw her. She looks up at him, and he's crossed the room before he can even really think, and crushed her to his chest. Lucy doesn't seem to mind the roughness of it. He knows he ought to be gentle, but his relief and--dare he say it--joy at finally seeing her alive again is too strong. He strokes her hair and kisses the top of her head, over and over; when she shifts to look up at him and his mouth awkwardly catches the corner of hers by mistake, they both naturally slide together into a full-on kiss.

( And precisely because the moment is ripe for misinterpretation, that's when Peter arrives. )

1. Go here to generate 10 random numbers between 1 and 100.
2. I will answer the corresponding questions from here.

CROSS-POSTED LIEK WHOA.

Get your own valentinr

Lucy thinks if she keeps very quiet--which is not a problem, considering what the castle took from her--she can hear pieces of her mind splintering away. Little slivers of her sanity, cracking and flaking into nothingness. It's been this way for a while, creeping and growing steadily like her head's the inside of a pressure cooker. It's said that you can't actually be insane if you yourself think you're so, that the insane think they're perfectly sane. But Lucy knows. She knows what she's sliding into.

She doesn't sleep well any more. When she does, she always sees the vision of her future the Doctor showed her. That skinny idiot. She'd called him on his bluff and he'd actually had the goods to back up his claims. Harry had assured her it wasn't true. The Doctor was lying. She wasn't really going to become abused and neglected and then, completely ignored by everyone, pick up a gun and shoot him dead. And she had believed him. Harry's word meant more than the Doctor's, after all.

But that was before the little signs had begun to manifest themselves.

Harry was locked up in the skinny idiot's TARDIS for a bomb threat he'd made on the town. Lucy had been angry about that, but she hadn't thought it would last very long. Silly her. She'd gone to the trouble of ransoming his release, and he had gone straight back. He'd given her reasons. She still couldn't understand. It was like... he wanted to stay, cooped up in house arrest on the TARDIS.

Then the skinny idiot's predecessor began visiting Harry in the TARDIS, and they didn't always bother to either filter or shut their journals. Or, when they did, it was sometimes too late. Lucy could hear everything. Absolutely everything. And it was like her heart had been placed in a vise and the handle turned all the way in.

She told the Doctor to stay away from her husband. He said no. Then he went and had sex with Harry, and she'd found out, and then she had snapped. That was the moment she knew it was all going to come true. The skinny idiot, damn him, had been right all along. The things she'd seen in his memories of the future were beginning to mirror themselves in Paradisa.

Lucy had taken her gun--Jan Valentine's gift, her first Christmas at the castle--and shot the Doctor.

Harry, in turn, had told her he would always come back to her, and then snapped her neck.

Another hole in the wall, so to speak. Another crack in her crumbling sanity.

After she returned, she asked Harry--if they had been home on the Valiant, and she had killed the Doctor, what would he have done?

"Then I would kill you. I am ever the hand of justice, Lucy, and justice cannot be stayed."

Being home has the unfortunate side effect of not bringing her back in two weeks after a death.

Her life has become a waking nightmare. She can't bear to be apart from Harry, yet she can't bear to be with him. The loneliness she feels is nearly crushing. Even when Harry was free, Lucy very rarely saw any of her fellow residents; the loss of her voice always felt like an insurmountable roadblock to socialization. She'd been attempting to teach herself sign language, but there had been no one she'd wanted to see enough to brave using it until very recently. Her contact had been almost exclusively limited to those residents with telepathic ability. Namely--the resident Time Lords. And her one ally among them, her Doctor, has gone home. She's even more alone now than ever.

Sometimes she thinks she might see a way out, a way to save herself before she collapses into madness, but even then she doesn't want to take it. Harry is her everything. Even in infidelity and murder, he is still her everything.

What would she be, Lucy wonders, without him? Without those memories and visions haunting every moment of every day?

Her pen hovers over her journal for a long time before she finally marks an entry for Adam Monroe. They're like souls, and he knows of people with certain... talents.

Her heart and her mind are ripping themselves in two, but she can't continue on this way.

"Might I ask you a few questions about an ability you mentioned the other day..."


[Based on RP in paradisa; kudos to iheardrums, not_from_mars, charmandsmiles, and makemethe_hero. Also the dearly departed eatinurdudez.]

♥ the fanficcers love meme, continued ♥

The Fandom Appreciation Meme: My Thread

Post a CONFESSION Meme

Pass a Secret Note ✘ Meme

So, I don't know anyone who doesn't feel like they aren't getting enough feedback. So... let's give some. What do you like about my pup? What do you think could be improved? What things about them do you not understand that you'd like elaborated on?

Like not_from_mars, I have enabled anonymous comments and screened comments, even though it kinda makes me want to flee. DO YOUR WORST.

Describe ME in one word.....just one single word. Post it in my comment section. Then put the same request in your journal so we can visit you and do the same thing and see how many strange and interesting things they say about you.

Paradisa!Lucy:


RS!Lucy:

Warning: By posting this up you are subjecting yourself to other peoples tastes in music. First rule of Play List is do not get offended by the music people share with you. Your cup of tea is could be someone else's leafy water.
Warning: By posting this up should be willing to seek out the same meme on your friends list and give them some music too!

01. How it works: Place this post up in your journal.
02. Fellow friends list members [and their writers too] are to then in turn comment to your post with music.
03. Said music is shared via an upload that you can download, or a link to lyrics for the connection challenged that reminds them of you.
04. When you comment leave the song title and artist in the subject line so that if someone else thought of the same song they don't have to send it to you again, ;)
05. With enough people and enough variety of songs you should end up with a lovely playlist inspired by those that know you pretty well. [or so you hope]
06. Download and enjoy!

[generic standard pre-recorded faintly computer-ish female voice saying "So-and-so is not available, please leave a message by pressing 1 etc etc etc"]

You are The Wheel of Fortune

Good fortune and happiness but sometimes a species of
intoxication with success

The Wheel of Fortune is all about big things, luck, change, fortune. Almost always good fortune. You are lucky in all things that you do and happy with the things that come to you. Be careful that success does not go to your head however. Sometimes luck can change.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

1 question...
1 chance...
1 honest answer...

That's all you get. Ask me one question. Any one question, anything, no matter how crazy it is. An honest answer. No catch.

All comments will be screened so your question stays private between you and me, and only you will get to see my answer to your question. But I dare you to repost this and see what people ask you.


[ooc; Comments are not really screened, but each conversation is private.]

She has a moment of weakness, after she closes her journal and sets her pen down and goes outside the Danger Room to wait. She really does care for this Doctor--cares for him a great deal, in fact. Sometimes, she thinks she may even love him a little, in the same vein as the way she loved her father. (Because she could never love another person the way she loves Harry.) So why is she doing this? Why is she luring him here to hurt him?

Perhaps it's the very fact that she cares so much, she thinks, and her resolve hardens. She cares, she trusts, and he's gone and betrayed that. She wants him to hurt for it.

But she still thinks "I'm sorry" before she brings her gun down on the back of his head.

Harry has him chained up and helpless at their hands. He wants to see her draw blood, she knows--he likes to see it run, she's always been fascinated by it, and he has the added pleasure of watching her turn the tables on someone who cares for her--but she wants the Doctor to see. Both of them, him and the skinny idiot, ever since Harry arrived (and even before then, really) they won't stop with the claims that Harry's only using her, that he'll end up both abusing and ignoring her, and it's seeping into her head and making her feel like her mind might split. What the skinny idiot showed her was a lie. She knows it is, because Harry said so. He would never hurt her; he loves her. He chose her from amongst all the silly little humans on Earth to be his, because they understand each other. She's special. She's not just his plaything.

She wants the Doctor to see the proof of that, because simply telling him hasn't worked.

It's simple enough. They put him into an old toy of Harry's, one that keeps the eyes forced open. Harry's already been leading her into that ancient lovers' dance as it is, and Lucy can think of no better way to show the Doctor that her husband truly loves her: to show him Harry making love to her, both as gentle and as passionate as can be. (And the Doctor doesn't want her anyway.)

When that doesn't seem to get the point across, that's when she starts drawing blood.

Harry doesn't want her to kill the Doctor, because that would make already complicated matters rather messy, and she's fine with that, because she doesn't want to kill the Doctor either. She only wants to make him hurt. He's hurt her by continuing to speak the lies his skinny self started when she had thought he would never lie to her. Never mind all the other hurts, like the abandonment for the other Master that had left her to die alone at the hands of a superpowered brat, and if she's really being honest with herself, his physical rejection of her. It's all built up in her heart and her head and she wants him to hurt.

When it's over, she feels much the same way as she did the night she killed her brothers.

They'd come to kill Harry, because something had roused them from their routine of drinking and womanizing and partying to look deeper into their new brother-in-law's past, and they'd discovered the truth. They had wanted to save their precious little sister and their country all in one shot, and they didn't mind going to prison for murder, they said, because explaining their motive would bag them an insanity plea. She'd been terrified, watching Andrew point the gun at Harry, and she'd begged him to please, give me the gun, you're making a horrible mistake. They had refused to stand down, but somehow, she had managed to snatch the gun away from him. She'd wrapped shaking fingers around it, and whispered "I'm sorry", and then shot him in the chest at point-blank range. Edward followed a moment later.

Harry had had to pry the gun out of her hands, and she'd promptly doubled over and vomited out of sheer horror at what she'd done. Then he'd gathered her to his chest and they sank down to the floor together, she sobbing and he murmuring comforting nothings in her ear, and the blood on her clothes had soaked into his.

She knew she'd done the right thing, the only thing. It would have been too dangerous to let her brothers leave with their knowledge, and her brothers weren't going to leave without killing Harry. Her choice had been easy. Making it had been harder. Living with it had been harder still. (She'd gone on bed rest for a week, and Harry had canceled his campaign activities for the duration to stay with her.)

Lucy wonders if this choice--a right one, but a heartbreaking one--will haunt her the same way.

Well. At least she has Harry to help see her through, just like last time.


[sort of stream-of-consciousness writing fffffff. X( apologies to those who get this twice.]