athene

happy birthday szychogirl

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 20:56:33 GMT

Happy birthday szychogirl!!!

Hope you're having a good day. I thought you might like a picture of the Cuddly Yellow Hoodie of Doom (and the rather good looking young man who is wearing it as well, of course! *grin*)

drabble: Unthinkable

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 20:13:47 GMT

written for the primeval 100 challenge 131: new pairings. Thanks to fredbassettand lukadreamingfor the second opinion on warnings.

Title: Unthinkable
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Leek/Connor
Rating: 18
Warnings: non-con
Spoilers: 2.7
Challenge: New pairings
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.

Long, thin fingers claim his naked body and Connor shivers. His throat is dry and his gaze skitters around the room, even though he knows that escape is not an option. He has to do this. The alternative... no, there is no alternative.

“Look at me!”

The sudden anger is frighteningly intense, and Connor tries not to flinch away. He has to keep up the act.

The predatory leer returns, and Leek becomes preoccupied once again.

Distracted.

Connor glances up at the surveillance screen showing Abby and Caroline in the cell. He has to do this.

The alternative is unthinkable.

drabble: Twisted Together

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 01:12:06 GMT

written for the Primeval 100 challenge 131: New Pairings

Title: Twisted Together
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Helen/Connor (Helen/Nick and Connor/Nick implied)
Rating: 12
Warnings: none
Spoilers: 3.3 implied
Challenge: New pairings
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.

He hates the ways she reminds him of Cutter. Helen has the same fascination with nature, the same determination. The same stubbornness.

Sometimes they argue long into the night; about the past, about the future, about Nick Cutter. Sometimes they hold each other in the darkness. Fear, comfort and pain twisted together. Afterwards, they both try to pretend they don’t care.

They are the last two people alive, searching for a way to prevent the future, and united in their love for a dead man.

Connor wonders if this is why he can’t leave Helen, even when he hates her.

shiny new header! And fic: Room For Two

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 23:25:48 GMT

I have a lovely new lj header, made for my birthday by auntypam , which was a complete surprise, so thank you very much. Of course, I had no idea how to upload it, so over the course of about three or four hours this morning, the wonderful munchkinofdoom talked me through the whole process until I got it the way I wanted it.

So, to say thankyou to these two ladies, I wrote gratuitous Connor/Ryan bath!porn fluff. Hope you like it.

Title: Room For Two
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing/characters: Ryan/Connor
Rating: 18
Warnings: gratuitous fluff, smut.
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.
Word count: approx 1800
Summary: When Connor yet again ends up looking like a wet, muddy, and thoroughly bedraggled drowned puppy, Ryan decides there’s only one thing for it: bathtime!
AN: Written for auntypam and munchkinofdoom as a thank you for my shiny new lj header.

“Connor!”

Ryan raced through the forest, his feet slipping in ankle deep puddles, his own speed and momentum the only things keeping him from falling flat on his arse. Rain poured into his eyes and the almost constant crash of thunder and blinding flashes of lightening overhead meant that his awareness of what was going on around him was narrowed to a single focus – the stampeding creature directly ahead that was dragging Connor along in its wake.

“Connor! Let go of the bag!”

He saw a light ahead in the gathering darkness. With a sickening jolt Ryan realised they had run full circle, the light was the anomaly and the creature was going to take Connor through it if he didn’t act fast. Ryan made his decision, stopped dead, took aim, and fired. The creature twisted round, bellowing. Its legs kicked out, and finally the strap of Connor’s bag snapped and his limp body was tossed unceremoniously through the air and into a tree. Ryan fired off another round, and the creature took off through the anomaly, honking its anger.

Ryan raced over to Connor, vaguely aware of voices shouting from somewhere behind. The young man was slumped against a tree, his eyes closed.

“Connor? Connor, talk to me.”

Connor cracked an eye open and looked up at him.

“Gallimimus.”

“What?” Ryan started mentally reciting the symptoms of concussion.

“They run pretty fast.”

Oh, right. He was talking about the creature.

“Connor, are you okay?”

“I liked that bag,” he said, staring at the torn, tangled remains of the thing that had accidentally attached him to the creature before it ran off.

Connor picked himself up, wincing with every movement. He was sopping wet and covered in mud practically from head to toe. On the plus side, it didn’t look like anything was broken, though.

“When we get home I think I want the biggest, deepest bath in history,” Connor decided, looking particularly disconsolate at the state he was in.

“There isn’t a bath at my place,” Ryan reminded him.

“Oh, yeah.”

Further conversation was forestalled by the arrival of the rest of the team. Claudia found a blanket from somewhere and wrapped Connor up and forced him to sit down and be examined by the medic while everyone else formed a rather wet and downcast cordon around the anomaly, which waited just long enough for them to finish arguing and organising themselves before it winked out of existence.

“I can see it’s going to be fun sharing a car with Connor for the next three hours until we get home,” Abby commented, not unkindly, as she eyed her sodden and muddy housemate.

Ryan had been thinking along similar lines, although with rather more emphasis on the fact that it was very late at night and Connor was quite obviously exhausted, and shivering despite the blanket.

“Abby, I’ll take Connor,” Ryan decided. “I want to get him somewhere warm as soon as possible so I’ll find us somewhere nearby for the night.”

“Are you sure?” Abby looked concerned.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll bring him back tomorrow.”

It was an indication of how far gone Connor was feeling that he acquiesced to having his evening arranged for him without being consulted. Abby dropped them off at the nearest hotel, and Ryan steered Connor into the building, still wrapped in the blanket.

“I need a double room with a bath, please,” Ryan told the woman on reception. She had rather a look of disgust at the state they were both in, but Ryan suspected that the fact that Connor was dripping muddy rain water all over their lobby floor went a long way towards expediting the booking in process.

Ryan didn’t properly start to relax until they were finally in the room and he had closed and locked the door. Leaving Connor standing in the middle of the room, he went to inspect the bathroom. He felt a grin spreading on his face when he saw the size of the bath. Ryan set the taps running and poured in both of the complementary sachets of bubble bath. Then he went back to find his young lover.

Connor was still shivering. He peered up at Ryan through the dripping curtain of hair, and Ryan couldn’t help the mental comparison to a half drowned puppy. It was worrying how often he found himself making that comparison, to be completely honest.

“Come on, let’s get you out of those clothes and warmed up a bit.”

“I like that plan,” Connor said blearily.

Ryan propelled him into the bathroom, which was starting to steam up nicely by that point, and then set about stripping Connor’s clothes off, with occasional instructions along the lines of, “Arms... no, the other foot.”

It wasn’t until Connor was completely undressed and standing naked in the middle of the bathroom that Ryan really noticed the bruises. Most of the left side of Connor’s chest, and his left arm were already turning an interesting shade of black and red.

“Conn, why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

Connor glanced down, and looked as surprised by the bruises as Ryan had been.

“I was so cold I didn’t notice.”

“Better do something about that, then.”

Ryan paused to turn the taps off, and then helped Connor to get into the decadently deep and hot bubble bath. Connor sank in with a moan of extreme pleasure, rested his head against the rim and closed his eyes.

“Hey, you can’t go to sleep yet,” Ryan warned as he stripped off his own clothes until he was only wearing his boxers. He knelt beside the bath, and started to carefully rub shower gel all over Connor’s body, avoiding the bruises as much as possible. By the time he had moved on to massaging shampoo into Connor’s hair the young man was practically purring with pleasure.

“Better now?” Ryan inquired, smiling at him.

Connor opened his eyes and smiled back. “Feel like a lobster now.”

“You look like one as well,” Ryan laughed. Any part of Connor’s skin which had been immersed was now a shocking shade of pink.

Connor reached out and tugged on Ryan’s wrist. “There’s probably room for two if I move up a bit.”

Ryan had been considering that, but his priority had been to get Connor warmed up and comfortable, and not in imminent danger of pneumonia. Now, however, there were distinct possibilities.

He stripped off his shorts and climbed in behind Connor as the young man shuffled far enough forward to make room. Water sloshed over the edge, and it belatedly occurred to Ryan that he should have emptied a bit out first. Connor seemed to be contemplating this with an expression of interest.

“I wonder if Archimedes really did say eureka when his bath overflowed?”

Ryan just shook his head with an amused smile, and slipped an arm around Connor’s waist and pulled him to lie back against Ryan’s chest.

“Happy now?”

“Oh yeah. Could go to sleep like this.”

“You’d better not,” Ryan said. His hands began to trace patterns across Connor’s chest, and Connor wriggled against him. Ryan felt his cock twitch, and smirked. “Keep that up and I think we’re going to end up getting messy again,” Ryan whispered into Connor’s ear.

Connor responded by wriggling even more vigorously.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Ryan’s hand tracked lower until he found Connor’s cock, which seemed to be the only part of his body that wasn’t half asleep at that moment.

“If that’s supposed to be an incentive to stop I think it’s doomed to failure,” Connor murmured.

“What am I going to do with you?” Ryan chuckled. Connor was apparently back to his usual cheeky self, and all was well in the world as far as he was concerned.

“I could give you a few suggestions, but you seem to have got the idea already.”

Ryan nuzzled Connor’s neck, and began to stroke his cock in earnest. Connor closed his eyes again. The bathroom was quiet except for the sound of sloshing water, and soft throaty purring, occasionally interspersed with needy mewing from Connor. He only usually made those sounds when he was very relaxed and content. Ryan trailed kisses along Connor’s neck and shoulder until the moment when Connor came with a soft sigh and a ripple of pleasure that seemed to go through his entire body.

“Nice?” Ryan inquired, nuzzling again until the quite gasping and mewing had faded.

“Mmmmmm.”

“Come on, I think someone needs to go to bed.”

Ryan climbed out of the bath, ignoring Connor’s pout. He slipped his hands under Connor’s arms and helped him get up and out of the bath, and then wrapped Connor in the biggest, fluffiest towel Ryan had ever seen. He was steadfastly refusing to think about how much this room had cost him until tomorrow morning. Connor’s exhaustion seemed to have returned now, and Ryan could barely cajole him into standing up for long enough to be towelled dry. He sat Connor down on a stool while dried himself, and when he had turned around again Connor’s eyes were closed and he was leaning against the wall, apparently asleep.

“Oi, sleeping beauty.” Ryan slipped an arm around Connor and half carried him into the other room and over to the bed. He tucked Connor in, and then returned to the bathroom to deal with his own arousal. His primary concern had been Connor, but their activities hadn’t left him unaffected, and now his own cock was demanding attention. Ryan slowly stroked himself, his eyes closed, his imagination trying to convince him that it was Connor’s hand on him right at that moment. That wasn’t going to work in a million years. Connor liked to tease him for as long as possible before letting him come, and Ryan knew he was never going to last long right then. Instead his mind supplied the image of Connor’s cheeky smile as his lips closed over the head of Ryan’s cock. That thought alone was enough, and Ryan arched into his own hand with a gasp of pleasure.

As soon as Ryan climbed into bed Connor snuggled closer and curled around him. The young man’s hand explored downwards until he found Ryan’s cock. Connor frowned.

“You just did yourself?”

“You looked like you were already asleep.” Ryan kissed him to show he didn’t mind.

“You should’ve let me,” Connor mumbled with something that might have been a pout if he wasn’t so sleepy.

“You can make it up to me in the morning,” Ryan promised.

“Yeah.” Connor yawned and cuddled up until he was hugging Ryan like a hot water bottle. “Morning sounds good.”

Within seconds it seemed that Connor was asleep, his breath on Ryan’s chest slow and soft. Ryan gently nuzzled the top of Connor’s head and absently wondered how much it would cost to have a bath installed in his flat.

drabble: The Old Routine

Sun, 18 Oct 2009 13:14:31 GMT

written for the primeval 100 challenge 128: Promises, promises.

Title: The Old Routine
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Connor/Abby
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Spoilers: 3.9, 3.10
Challenge: Promises, promises
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.

Connor was overjoyed when Abby told him he could come home again. He promised himself the weirdness between them would go away once they were back to the old routine.

Trouble was, he’d forgotten how much of ‘the old routine’ involved mixed signals and rejections. Kissing one day, distance the next. When he finally found the courage to call her on it, Abby promised she would stop messing him around. In turn, Connor promised himself he wouldn’t let her mess him around any more.

Promises, promises.

Within two weeks of getting home, every single one of them had been broken.

drabble: Company in Hell

Thu, 24 Sep 2009 20:27:26 GMT

Written for the Primeval 100 challenge 125 - Picture Prompt

Title: Company in Hell
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Connor, Lester
Rating: 15
Warnings: none
Spoilers: Oblique implication of events prior to 3.5
Challenge: Picture Prompt
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.

Connor never made a conscious decision to get drunk. If he had, he would have found a harder, faster way to oblivion than this.

Unfortunately, wine is the only alcohol he can find in the flat, so he pours a glass and starts to drink.

He drinks until he’s no longer sure whether the aim is to punish himself, or to make the pain stop. He’s not sure if the difference even matters.

Lester finds him like this several hours later. His eyes hold unexpected understanding.

Connor doesn’t ask questions when Lester takes out a second glass and joins him.

mini-ficlet: Snakes. Why does it have to be snakes?

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:04:35 GMT

another from the drabble promts, this one for cupidandpsycho

Title: Snakes. Why does it have to be snakes?
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Becker/Abby
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: none
Word count: approx 160
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.
AN: written for cupidandpsycho with the prompt ‘snakes’.

“Close the door! Mabel’s out!”

“What?” Becker quickly closed the door to Abby’s flat.

At that moment something brushed against his leg. He looked down and froze.

Snake! More to the point, a bloody huge snake that was winding its way leisurely up his leg and around his chest. Becker couldn’t so much as twitch. Hell, he barely even dared to breathe. He could only stare in horror as the forked tongue flickered out and tasted the skin at his throat.

“You found her!” Abby strode over, amusement in her eyes as she manhandled the snake off him and cradled it in her arms. Becker hoped to god she hadn’t heard the tiny squeak that escaped his lips when it was finally gone. For a moment he thought he had got away with it.

Then Abby leaned close and whispered, “Do I get bonus points if I can get you to make that noise in bed tonight?”

mini-ficlet: Desperate Measures

Sat, 19 Sep 2009 17:20:28 GMT

Another mini-ficlet from the drabble promtps, this time for lukadreaming

Title: Desperate Measures
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Connor/Stephen
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: none
Word count: 160
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.
AN: written for lukadreaming with the prompt ‘midnight’.

“God, I’m freezing,” Connor complained for the fifth time, blowing on his gloved hands and shivering.

Stephen rolled his eyes and said nothing.

“No wonder it’s so cold, it’s gone midnight,” Connor muttered, as much to get a reaction out of his stoic companion than anything else.

Stephen still said nothing.

Connor indicated the shimmering anomaly. “We might die of hypothermia if this one stays open much lon-”

Stephen abruptly shoved him back against a tree and before Connor could even think of protesting Stephen was kissing him, his hands on either side of Connors face holding him still. When he finally broke away his breath was warm against Connor’s face.

“Warmer now?” Stephen inquired with a playful smile on his face.

Connor nodded, temporarily stunned into silence.

“Good.”

Stephen returned to his silent vigil watching the anomaly.

Connor glanced at his watch again, and wondered how cold it would have to get to persuade Stephen to do that again.

mini-ficlet: Distracting

Sat, 19 Sep 2009 16:57:15 GMT

Okay, those drabble prompts that I took ages ago before a serious case of writer's block set in? Well, I haven't forgotten, and rough drafts for three of them have been sitting on my hard drive for weeks, but refusing to edit down to 100 words. So in the end I decided, 'sod it!', so they're getting posted as mini-ficlets instead. The first one is for joereaves

Title: Distracting
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Lester/Connor
Rating: 12
Warnings: None
Spoilers: none
Word count: 135
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.
AN: written for joereaves with the prompt ‘talented’.

The soft music stopped the second that Lester became aware of Connor’s presence.

“Yes, what do you want?” Lester snapped.

“I didn’t know you could play the piano.” Connor looked intrigued.

“Well why else would I own one?”

Connor sidled closer and leaned against the piano.

“You’re good. Very talented.” He smiled hopefully. “Play something, for me.”

Lester let his eyes roam over the young man’s body, framed in tight jeans and figure-hugging t-shirt as usual. For the hundredth time he questioned his decision to let Connor stay at his flat.

“I can think of a better use for my fingers right now,” Lester decided.

He stood up and pushed Connor back onto the piano, taking control as Connor writhed under his touch.

Oh yes, having Connor stay here was very bad for his willpower.

fanfic: Let Sleeping Geeks Lie

Thu, 17 Sep 2009 20:52:48 GMT

This one has taken me ages to write because the boys were fighting over what they wanted the story to be - Connor wanted pure fluff, Ryan wanted porn. In the end, I think they both won...

Title: Let Sleeping Geeks Lie
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing/characters: Ryan/Connor
Rating: 18
Warnings: gratuitous fluff, mild smut, absolutely no plot.
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.
Word count: approx 1000
Summary: Connor wants to sleep in late, Ryan has other idea.

“Connor?”

Ryan poked his head round the bedroom door and let his eyes adjust to the half-light. Connor was still a curled up shape under the duvet, his dark hair tufting in all directions on the pillow.

“Conn? I’ve brought coffee.”

There was a muffled murmur from the duvet, so Ryan went in and put the mug down on the bedside table and sat down next to Connor. It was usually worth checking whether or not he was actually asleep, because it wasn’t unknown for Connor to pretend he was sleeping, only to launch a surprise pounce. A surprise pounce which, to be fair, Ryan almost always saw coming from a mile off.

“Are you awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep when I realised my favourite pillow was gone,” Connor mumbled.

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Your favourite pillow wanted a cup of coffee and a bacon butty.”

Connor’s hand sneaked out from under the duvet and tugged on Ryan’s wrist.

“Come back to bed.”

“Connor, its gone ten o’clock already. I’m not lying around in bed at this time of day.”

“We were awake till nearly four in the morning. And it was freezing cold. And it was the world’s most boring anomaly.” Connor still sounded extremely put out about that, as well.

Ryan gently brushed the hair away from Connor’s face, and his young lover squirmed and nuzzled Ryan’s hand.

“I’ll make you pancakes if you get up,” Ryan offered.

“Pancakes in bed?” The biggest pair of puppy eyes imaginable peered up at Ryan with an optimistic expression.

“Nope. You only get pancakes if you get up.”

Connor pouted.

“No pancakes at all if you make that face at me,” Ryan said, knowing full well that it was a completely empty threat. When Connor did finally emerge, Ryan suspected he was going to be creating syrup-laden pancakes for his lover for most of what was left of the morning.

“That’s just mean.”

“Come on,” Ryan tried again. “Are you going to get up or are you just going to lie there looking cute all day?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

“Don’t make me come in there and get you.”

Connor squirmed again. Ryan thought he might have been aiming for a sexy, seductive squirm, but under that much bedding it was difficult to tell. Willpower fought a brave but futile battle with desire, and Ryan finally gave in to the inevitable and stripped off his t-shirt and jeans and slid back into bed.

“That’s better,” Connor mumbled. He snuggled closer and curled an arm around Ryan’s waist.

Ryan let his hands start to roam over Connor’s body, surprised by how warm he was after the relative coolness of the rest of the house. More than aware of Connor’s feeling about being cold, Ryan was starting to see why the young man was quite so reluctant to emerge from his toasty little cocoon.

“I feel I have to remind you that we’re not supposed to be cuddling, we’re supposed to be getting up,” he pointed out.

“Shouldn’t have got back in bed then, should you?”

“Don’t make me resort to tickling!”

Connor squeaked like a startled guinea pig and rolled over and curled up into a ball, his knees hugged tight to his chest. Ryan smirked. Connor really didn’t like having his tummy tickled.

Of course, this was exactly what Ryan had expected to happen when he threatened tickling, and his smirk got bigger. He sat up to reach across to the bedside table and snag the lube and started coating his fingers.

“Come back, you’re letting all the heat out of the be- eeek!”

Ryan chuckled. “I don’t normally get that response when I do this,” he said as he twisted his finger in Connor’s arse.

“It’s cold!” There was a definite pouty quality to Connor’s voice. “You could have at least warmed your hand up a bit first.”

“I can stop if you like.”

Connor didn’t bother to dignify that with an answer, and instead wriggled until he managed to push himself backwards onto Ryan’s finger.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ to stopping, then.”

Connor was grumbling something under his breath until there was sudden gasp and the grumbling turned instantly into a breathy whimper. He uncoiled slightly, and started stroking his own cock.

Ryan wasn’t in any hurry, and he took his time, enjoying the quiet happy noises, and the occasional wriggling that told him Connor was getting impatient. Eventually Ryan paused long enough to slide a condom on, and then he pressed slowly into Connor, one hand on the young man’s hip holding him in place. They stayed like that for a surprisingly long time, neither moving until Ryan started to thrust. Even then the pace remained slow, lethargic, until at last a small cry announced Connor’s orgasm, and the moment he tightened around Ryan’s cock it pulled him over the edge as well.

The need to not be damp and sticky was what finally persuaded Ryan that he had to move from the contented tangle of limbs and purring sounds. He could reach the strategically located box of tissues without needing to leave the bed, and proceeded to clean them both up, smirking slightly when he still managed to inadvertently tickle Connor’s stomach. He had to roll over onto his back to lob the wad of tissues and condom into the bin, and as soon as he’d done it Connor pounced. Well, strictly speaking, ‘pounce’ implied far more speed and movement than was actually involved. It was more like Connor sprawled across Ryan, his arm and a leg draping over Ryan’s body, and his head nestling into a comfortable position on Ryan’s shoulder.

“Oi! We’re supposed to be getting up!”

Connor snuggled closer and nuzzled Ryan’s chest.

“Connor.” He tried to put a stern warning into his voice, but the effect was probably rather spoiled by all the cuddling.

Connor snuffled quietly, and his breath on Ryan’s chest became soft and even once more.

Ryan sighed. He really was going soft in his old age.

On the plus side, at least there was a cup of coffee within easy reach.

drabble: Wanting

Tue, 01 Sep 2009 18:10:26 GMT

written for the Primeval 100 challange 121 - Want, take, have

Title: Wanting
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Connor/Abby
Rating: 15
Warnings: none
Spoilers: general S3, particularly 3.8 and 3.10
Challenge: Want, take, have
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.

Connor wanted Abby. He wanted her friendship, her respect, but most of all he wanted her love.

He savoured every touch or smile, and, eventually, every kiss.

Afterwards, Abby always brushed it away, said it didn’t mean anything. Just good friends, right?

Didn’t stop him from wanting, though.

They made love on their tenth night in the Cretaceous. It was just comfort, Abby insisted. Nothing more.

Connor pretended he was okay with that as he held her close. He had finally stopped believing he would ever have what he wanted. Now he was prepared to take whatever he could get.

drabble: Rejection

Tue, 18 Aug 2009 22:47:37 GMT

written for the Primeval 100 challenge 119 - we need to talk

Title: Rejection
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Abby/Connor
Rating: 15
Warnings: implied abuse
Spoilers: nothing specific, but set late series 3
Challenge: We need to talk
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.

Abby felt an aching sadness as she saw the puppy dog hope in Connor’s eyes, even though, deep down, he probably expected another rejection.

It wasn’t Connor’s fault that his innocence reminded her of how her own innocence had been taken from her. She didn’t want to hate him for his childlike optimism, just because she had been forced to grow up so quickly. And, Abby finally realised, she didn’t want to punish Connor just because she no longer trusted any man with her heart and body.

Connor deserved better. He deserved to understand why.

“Connor, we need to talk.”

fanfic: Defiance

Sun, 09 Aug 2009 19:35:36 GMT

HAPPY BIRTHDAY cupidandpsycho . Here's a wee bit of Becker!breakage for you.

Title: Defiance
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing/characters: Becker, Wilder, Lester (Becker/Lester implied)
Rating: 18
Warnings: Rape, violence, language.
Spoilers: 3.6
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.
Word count: approx 2500
Summary: A little AU if 3.6 had ended differently. Follows on from Lester’s Man
AN: Birthday fic for cupidandpsycho. And just for the record, Fakey is the only person on my f-list who has got me to write rape fic. Twice!

“I’m going to ask you one last time. Where. Is. Lester?”

Becker glared back across the table at Wilder with his one remaining good eye. He spat blood before he replied.

“I’m going to tell you one last time. I. Don’t. Know.”

Wilder walked casually around the table to stand in front of him, and punched him again. Another flash of pain rippled down the left side of his face, and Becker’s vision blurred for a moment, his head spinning. He closed his eye briefly, until the dizziness passed and the pain ebbed. It was a familiar routine by now. As was the silent litany in his head; Don’t make a sound. Don’t make a fucking sound. Eventually, satisfied that he hadn’t given any indication of being affected at all, he focussed on Wilder and spat blood at him.

Wilder glanced disdainfully down at the gob of blood that had landed in front of his feet. “I can keep doing this all day,” he said in an almost conversational tone of voice.

“So can I.”

Becker suspected his response was rather marred by the fact that he was now lisping quite badly. He’d lost at least one tooth and he was no longer sure whether most of the blood was coming from his gum or his lip. The left side of his face was now so badly swollen he couldn’t open his eye any more. Not that there was much to look at, even if he could see properly. Just four blank walls, a locked door, and Captain Wilder.

“We know you’ve been communicating with him. We’ve intercepted your little messages.”

“So why don’t you go find him yourself, then?”

Wilder’s fist twitched, and Becker shifted on his chair to sit up as straight as his cuffed wrists would let him. He wondered idly if Wilder had any inkling that he was meant to have intercepted some of those messages, that Becker had sent so many decoy messages and false trails with no real hope of them reaching Lester in order to disguise the ones that he did intend to reach him. The fact that they now appeared to have lost track of Lester entirely gave Becker some grim satisfaction that his efforts had not been useless.

He was worried about what had happened to Lester, though. The fact that he had apparently felt the need to disappear was probably an indication of how bad things had got outside of the ARC as well as inside it. Becker assumed Danny and the rest of the team were still on the run somewhere, although his only evidence for that was merely the fact that they hadn’t been brought to the ARC and Christine was still searching for the artefact. He suddenly realised Wilder was talking again, and dragged his attention back, for all the good it would do him.

“You’re not a stupid man, Becker. You must know you’re backing the wrong side now. Lester has lost. He’ll never come back here. And it’s only a matter of time before we find Quinn and the others.”

“And yet you apparently can’t find any of them without my help. If you want to find the stupid man in this room, go look in a mirror.”

Becker had a second to brace himself before Wilder’s fist slammed into his stomach. He instinctively curled up until he was brought to a sharp stop by the cuffs. Another punch to the face a moment later was in no way a surprise, although Becker was left gasping for breath and aware of fresh blood running from his nose.

“I’m giving you the chance to co-operate now. The alternative is you getting thrown into prison for treason with the lot of them when we find them. I’m trying to do you a favour.”

“Aww, Captain, I didn’t know you cared,” Becker said with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

“Fine,” Wilder sighed as if he had just become extremely bored of the entire conversation. “Have it your way.”

He walked round behind the chair and Becker heard a snap as something cut through the cable tie which was attaching the cuffs to the back of the chair. Before he could move, though, Wilder tipped the chair sideways, spilling Becker onto the floor. He tried to move, but with his hands still cuffed behind his back he had barely managed to wriggle onto his side before Wilder’s boot slammed into his stomach. For the second time in as many minutes Becker curled up to protect himself, but this time the assault didn’t stop. Kicks landed in his side, his back, kidneys, arms, legs. A particularly hard stamp came down on his ankle. Becker noted that his head and face were being spared this time, no doubt because Wilder wanted him to remain conscious, and that was bad news because it meant he had something else planned.

Do not make a sound. Don’t give the fucker the satisfaction. Do. Not. Respond.

Becker was focussing so hard on that one thought that he almost didn’t realise when the attack stopped. Everything hurt. Everything. He breathed in and a sharp pain in his back cut the breath short. There goes another fucking rib, he thought grimly. Without warning, Wilder got hold of the cuffs and dragged him to his feet by the wrists. Becker scrambled to get his feet under him before his shoulders were wrenched too badly, but before he could stand up straight Wilder propelled him into the edge of the table and shoved him to bend over it, his face pressed hard against the metal surface.

Becker had known this was coming. Known it from the moment Wilder had brought him into this room, just the two of them, one lone guard outside the door. All the questions were nothing more than an excuse, and they both knew it. He closed his eye as Wilder reached round and undid his trousers and dragged them down. Becker tensed, for a moment almost bracing to push himself upright and fight back. The thought of head-butting Wilder and smashing his nose in flitted through his mind, the thought that he had to at least try to stop this from happening again. Then Wilder rammed an elbow into the newly broken rib, and all thoughts were driven from Becker’s mind in a fresh wave of pain. He couldn’t stop a sharp hiss escaping his lips, and knew in that second that he had lost. Again.

“That’s it,” Wilder sneered as he held Becker down with a hand still gripping the cuffs. “Cry. Whimper. Call out for Lester. Give in.”

“Fuck off.”

Becker bit back another hiss when Wilder entered him, hard and unlubricated as ever. He pressed the right side of his face against the table and concentrated on breathing through his mouth as blood continued to flow from his nose. This was almost routine now. He had trained his mind to focus on something else, to not think at all about what was happening to him until it was over. It was the only way he had been able to deal with the last few weeks under Christine’s regime. This time, though, it was harder than ever to block it out completely. Maybe it was because of all his other injuries, maybe it was because this time it wasn’t a quick assault in the locker room or the shower, it was an orchestrated and prolonged attack in private. Becker was no longer certain how far Wilder would go, and where this would end, and despite all his bravado there was a tiny knot of fear building deep within him.

“Where’s Lester?” Wilder demanded as he thrust hard, catching a barely heal tear from some previous occasion.

Becker bit back any sound, accidentally swallowing blood as he did so. He felt a sudden wave of nausea, and wasn’t sure if it was because of the sick taste of blood or because of the pain and blood loss.

“Tell me where he is, and you might be able to stand up again in a week, instead of a month.”

Like that was even a threat any more. Wilder was oddly uncreative in his methods, but then, maybe it was the sheer repetitiveness that made them effective. Becker didn’t want to admit that he didn’t know how much longer he could take any of this, and the knot of fear was joined by a choking great lump of guilt and hate for his cowardice.

Somewhere behind them Becker thought he heard something outside in the corridor, and then the door opening. Fucking great, now there was an audience as well. He prayed it wasn’t Christine.

“I said to wait outside,” Wilder snapped, not even breaking rhythm. Apparently without waiting for a response, he directed his attention back to Becker. “One last time, Pretty Boy, where is Lester?”

“Right behind you,” said a third voice in the room.

Becker’s eye snapped open but he still couldn’t move. He was hearing things. He had to be. But he knew that voice, even if he’d never heard such a hard, angry edge to it before. Wilder pulled out of him and a second later Becker heard a gunshot. Wilder staggered back into him, and his sudden weight pressing down on Becker’s prone body was enough to drag another grunt of pain from him. Another two gunshots rang out in quick succession, almost painfully loud in the small room. He felt Wilder slump down to the ground behind him, and a moment later Wilder started to yell and scream. Becker forced himself to stand, ignoring all the sharp jarring pains that movement brought, ignoring the sudden light-headed feeling, and he turned around.

Lester was standing just inside the doorway aiming a pistol at Wilder. His eyes held an anger that Becker hadn’t known the civil servant was capable of. Becker glanced down at Wilder and realised there was blood spreading on his shoulder, and also on both knees. Becker edged away carefully, using the table to support himself. Through the open doorway he could hear the sounds of distant fighting in the ARC building.

Becker suddenly became very aware of the fact that his trousers and boxer shorts were still hanging around his knees. With his hands still cuffed there was very little he could do about it, though, short of a lot of awkward wriggling, and he wasn’t sure his body was up to that right then. Either way, it was about the most undignified way he could possibly imagine to reunite with Lester after all this time.

He drew himself as upright as his injuries would allow, and very slightly nodded a greeting.

“Lester.”

“Captain,” Lester replied. He didn’t even look at Becker, his fury still directed at the yelling soldier on the floor.

Becker’s gut clenched. Was Lester disappointed with him? Disgusted at what he’d seen when he walked in? He opened his mouth with no idea what he was going to say, and then the world abruptly tilted sideways. Becker was unconscious before he even hit the floor.

The first thing Becker became aware of when he woke up was the faint chemical smell he associated with hospitals. The second was that he was in considerably less pain than he remembered from earlier.

He forced his right eye open, dimly aware that that the left one was still swollen shut. It took him a moment to recognise the ARC infirmary; he wasn’t used to seeing the room from this angle, and the lights weren’t usually this dim.

“Hello again.”

Becker turned his head and saw Lester sitting at his side. His first impression was that Lester looked very, very tired. The jacket and tie were gone, and the top two buttons of his rumpled shirt were hanging open.

“Hello, Sir.”

Curtains were drawn most of the way round the bed, but Becker still had no idea what the situation was, or whether anyone else was nearby.

“I think we can dispense with the formalities,” Lester said in a quiet voice. “How do you feel?”

There was no honest answer to that which Lester would actually want to hear, so Becker opted for, “Better, thanks.”

“I think you should make a mental note to not try lying when high on morphine,” Lester commented. “That was even less convincing than Temple’s excuses for unfinished reports.”

Becker glanced up and noticed a couple of bags hanging above and to the side, one filled with a clear fluid, one filled with blood. At the same time he became aware of various tubes and wires attached to his body.

“Overkill for a few cuts and bruises,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant as he eyed the IV line going into his arm.

Lester’s eye roll was almost as unconvincing as his own lie had been. Becker was awake and alert enough now to recognise that it wasn’t just exhaustion in Lester’s eyes. Lester had been worried about him. Scared, even. Becker wondered just how badly hurt he really was.

“It’s a little more than a few cuts and bruises,” Lester said softly. His hand abruptly jerked in mid air, as if he had been in the motion of reaching out and then stopped himself. Becker turned away, not wanting to acknowledge that Lester couldn’t even bring himself to touch him after what he’d seen. A moment later, though, he felt long thin fingers delicately brushing his hair away from his battered face. “Honestly, I’ve never seen it so messed up,” Lester commented. When Becker looked back and caught the gentle amusement in Lester’s eye his stomach flipped again, but this time in a good way.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it,” Lester said. “And whatever you want to say can wait. It was all I could do to get the doctor to allow you to stay here instead of shipping you off to a proper hospital. The price of that allowance is you staying in here until the doctor says you’re fit, I’m afraid.”

A thousand questions were jostling for attention now that Becker was fully awake, but he held them back and simply nodded.

“Then, once you are discharged I am taking you home, and then we can talk. Or not, if you’d prefer.” Lester looked momentarily awkward but his eyes never left Becker.

“You don’t have to. I can look after myself.” He tried to hide the bitterness in his voice. Great, now Lester thought he was just some wimp who needed mollycoddling. Any conversations from now on were just going to skirt around the huge fucking elephant in the room. Becker didn’t even know whether he did want to talk about what happened over the last few weeks. Would Lester want to know the full details? Would he care?

“I told you to stop thinking,” Lester admonished. His hand slipped carefully over Becker’s and stayed there. “And yes, I do have to.” He leaned closer and gave Becker a tiny smile. “You’re about the only thing that made this place worth coming back to.”

drabble: Better

Tue, 28 Jul 2009 18:03:40 GMT

Written for the Primeval 100 challenge 116 - TLC

Title: Better
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Ryan, Connor
Rating: 15
Warnings: Points to icon in lieu of specific warnings.
Spoilers: none
Challenge: TLC
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.
AN: Thanks to telperion_15 for the second opinion when I wasn't sure about this one.

Ryan wanted to promise that it would get better soon, but they both knew it would be a lie.

He cradled Connor’s broken body in his arms as the fever raged, stroking his hair and talking him through his fear when the pain became too much. The incoherent whimpering had started on the sixth day. Ryan thought he preferred the screaming. At least that meant there was still some fight in him.

In his increasingly rare lucid moments, Connor begged him to make the pain stop.

Eventually, Ryan promised it would get better soon.

Then he reached for his pistol.

Drabble: In the Line of Duty

Wed, 15 Jul 2009 14:22:12 GMT

written for the Primeval 100 challenge 115 - Parents

Title: In the Line of Duty
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Nick, mention of Ryan
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: 1.6
Challenge: parents
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.

Most of the people at Captain Ryan’s funeral were soldiers. Standing unobtrusively at the back, Nick’s gaze was drawn to the few family members in attendance. Ryan’s father remained stiff and stoic throughout, his mother occasionally dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

Nick wondered what they had been told of Ryan’s death. If they knew that he was a hero who had died trying to protect civilians. Or whether they had simply received an automated letter containing phrases such as ‘classified’ and ‘in the line of duty’.

Whatever they had been told, Nick hoped they were proud of their son.

drabble: Mating Season

Mon, 13 Jul 2009 19:52:53 GMT

Written for the Primeval 100 past challenge - Keeping Cool, and also for zenosaur from the drabble prompts I took a while back.

Also, If you asked for a drabble and I still haven't done it, I haven't forgotten, it's just taking longer than I thought to do something for all of them.

Title: Mating Season
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Rex, Connor/Abby
Rating: 15
Warnings: Smut, sort of.
Spoilers: none
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.
AN: written for Zenosaur who wanted Rex and/or Connor/Abby.
AN2: Also written for the Primeval_100 past prompt 113 – keeping cool

Rex basked in the sunlight on his favourite ledge, watching the antics below with interest.

At first he had blamed their strange behaviour on the heat, but now he wasn’t so sure. Rex knew some creatures became more colourful in the mating season, but his girl and boy were becoming less colourful as they shed more and more layers.

Bringing each other food was clearly a mating ritual, but frozen food? And surely it was supposed to be eaten, not smeared on their bodies?

And all the tumbling around together? Well, they were never going to stay cool like that!

drabble: Irresistible Personality

Fri, 26 Jun 2009 20:22:31 GMT

I'm still working through th drabble prompts, this one is for telperion_15. Probably not what you expected from the prompt, but this prompt gave me trouble for ages until this popped into my head.

Title: Irresistible Personality
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Nick/Connor
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: 3.1
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.
AN: written for Telperion_15 with the prompt ‘magnetic’.

“The magnetite keeps the anomaly trapped and it moves! Cutter you should have seen it, the anomaly moved with the Sun Cage. It was awesome! We really have to research this, it could be important for understanding the anomal-”

Connor squeaked as Cutter grabbed him and shoved him against the wall, finally silencing Connor’s babbling with a hard, hungry kiss.

“God, Connor,” Cutter growled. “You are so bloody sexy when you’re all geeky and enthusiastic like this. I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“But I’m always geeky and enthusiastic,” Connor pointed out, slightly breathlessly.

“Precisely. That’s the bloody problem.”

Three Connor/Abby drabbles - 'Trust', 'Willpower' and 'Breath'

Wed, 10 Jun 2009 20:53:16 GMT

originally posted at the Primeval Canon drabble tree, these are three Connor/Abby-centric drabbles. All rather angsty, I'm afraid.

Title: Trust
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing/characters: Connor, Abby
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.
Word count: 100
Summary: Connor is alone and afraid.

He can’t see anything. His face burns where the lizard venom hit him, but it’s his eyes that hurt most and he can’t bloody see.

He knows how loud his breathing sounds in the black and he tries to stamp down on the terror. There’s something else moving in here and he has no idea what it is. He reaches out into nothingness, fingers searching for something, anything to anchor himself.

“Connor.”

Abby’s hand is there, stopping him from falling.

“Abby, I can’t...”

“Shush,” she presses a finger to his lips. “It’s okay. Just trust me.”

It’s Abby. Connor trusts without question.

Title: Willpower
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing/characters: Connor/Abby
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Spoilers: vague series 3
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.
Word count: 100
Summary: Connor can’t take this any more.

Connor packs his bags and leaves while Abby is out. He feels like a coward, but if they talk, he knows his willpower will fail in the face of her false hope and promises.

He loves Abby, but he can’t take this any more. He can’t keep waiting for her to make her mind up. He can’t keep begging for scraps of affection, waiting for the inevitable rejection again. It hurts too much, and he doesn’t want to live that way any more.

Connor loves Abby. That’s why he has to stop her from hurting him, for both their sakes.

Title: Breath
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing/characters: Abby/Connor
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.
Word count: 100
Summary: All she can do is hold on.

Abby couldn’t move. Wreckage of the explosion continued to creak and settle around her. The air was cold but she felt surprisingly warm, especially when breath tickled against her cheek.

“Connor?”

His eyes remained closed.

Abby tried to wriggle free but he was a dead weight pinning her down.

She remembered now. He had thrown himself onto her, protecting her body with his own. Stupid bloody heroic idiot.

“Connor! Wake up!”

Her clothes were becoming sticky and she knew it wasn’t her blood.

Abby screamed for help that never came, and held his hand as the breath on her cheek became weaker.

drabble: The Family We Choose For Ourselves

Wed, 10 Jun 2009 18:44:23 GMT

written for the Primeval 100 challenge 110 - Big Brother

Title: The Family We Choose For Ourselves
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Connor, Stephen
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: none
Challenge: Big brother
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.

Connor liked being an only child. He didn’t have to share his room, or his toys, with anyone else when he was little. Besides, a brother would just be another person who would take the piss and think he was an idiot.

It hadn’t occurred to him that there might be advantages to having a big brother; someone who would look out for him, protect him when he was in trouble, and give him much-needed advice about girls.

Connor never wanted a big brother, but now he’s got Stephen, it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.

drabble: Existence

Fri, 05 Jun 2009 19:36:20 GMT

written for the Primeval 100 challenge 109 - First Time

Title: Existence
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Clone, Nick, Helen
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: very big spoilers for 3.3
Challenge: first time
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.

At first there was only eating, resting, and the commands of the creator. It knew nothing of fear, desire, love or hate.

The first time it looked into the eyes of its double, it experienced something new. It felt a connection with another living being.

The first time it was spoken to as if it were a person, not merely a thing, it felt a sense of self.

The first time it made a decision of its own free will, it understood why the creator feared this.

The first time it really lived was in the moment before it died.

drabble: Not His Type

Tue, 02 Jun 2009 17:11:24 GMT

written for the Primeval 100 drabble challenge 108 - music

Title: Not His Type
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Connor
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: 1.3, 2.7
Challenge: music
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.

It had been an off the cuff comment. Connor had never really expected to inherit Stephen’s i-pod when he died.

After the funeral, Stephen’s music was his companion as he lay alone in his room staring at the ceiling, trying to deny the tears that threatened with every memory.

Stephen’s taste in music was nothing like his own. It was all adrenaline dance beats and techno thumping. Loud. Vibrant. Music for living life on the edge.

Eventually, Connor shut the i-pod away in a drawer and tried to pretend it was because he just didn’t like that type of music.

drabble: Bait

Sun, 31 May 2009 16:17:10 GMT

And another drabble. This one's for partofthequeue2 .

Title: Bait
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Danny/Connor (if you squint a bit)
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: 3.6
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.
AN: written for partofthequeue2 with the prompt ‘only a scratch’.

Connor cornered Danny in the locker rooms later.

“You used me as bait.”

Danny looked more amused than concerned at his anger.

“Yes.”

“I was injured.”

“It was only a scratch,” Danny shrugged.

“I was unconscious!” Connor poked Danny’s chest to emphasise his point.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’m sorry. Next time I use you as bait, I’ll make sure you’re conscious first.”

Connor flailed his arms in frustration.

“I’d rather you didn’t use me as bait at all! Conscious or otherwise.”

Danny eyed him somewhat speculatively.

“That’s a shame. You do such a good job of looking tasty.”

drabble: Knight in Shining Armour

Sun, 31 May 2009 16:11:43 GMT

This is another one from the drabble prompts, this time for fredbassett . The boys tried their hardest to be smutty, but I'm afraid the word count just wasn't long enough for them to get up to much!

Title: Knight in Shining Armour
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Connor/Ryan
Rating: 15
Warnings: None
Spoilers: none
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.
AN: written for Fredbassett with the prompt ‘anniversary’.

Connor climbed onto Ryan’s lap with a mischievous expression.

“Do you know what today is?”

“Tuesday?” Ryan suggested.

“It’s a year since the first time you saved my life.”

“And apparently you still haven’t learned any sense.”

“I like it when you rescue me,” Connor said, writhing seductively in Ryan’s lap. “My knight in shining armour.”

Ryan’s body responded immediately, and he growled and grabbed Connor’s hips, forcing him to be still while Ryan kissed him.

Then he raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Does that make you my damsel in distress?”

Connor smirked right back.

“Only if you’re very good.”

drabble: Anticipation

Wed, 27 May 2009 21:13:23 GMT

Written for the Primeval 100 challenge 108 - music

Title: Anticipation
Author: Athene
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Connor, Abby
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: none
Challenge: music
Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.

Sure he was alone for the afternoon, Connor turned the volume up, sprawled on the sofa and closed his eyes.

A trumpet fanfare filled the room. He loved the building sense of anticipation that sound always created deep within him. As the familiar theme assailed his ears, Connor’s outstretched arms and twirling fingers began to conduct an orchestra that only he could see.

He was suddenly hit in the face by a cushion.

“Oi! Turn it down!” Abby yelled from upstairs.

Connor hastily removed the Stars Wars disc from the player and resolved to check for housemates first, next time.

dinosaur article and randomness

Wed, 27 May 2009 12:13:52 GMT

Found this article today in the Guardian:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/science/2009/may/27/dinosaurs-sauropods-posture-heads-upright-necks

Some new theory about the posture of large sauropod dinosaurs.

And also this for a laugh:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/gallery/2009/may/26/cheese-rolling-brockworth-coopers-hill?picture=347890964

Sometimes, one of the great things about this country is the complete and utter bonkers randomness of our 'cultural heritage'!