Something to think on

Reminder for Bad Boys & Wicked Women Prompts

2009-08-01T09:55:25Z

If anyone likes the idea of fic for the misguided, disliked, ambigious, evil and alien characters then you've got just about 5 days left to submit prompts. As many as you like, no obligation to write too. The submission ends when the 5th of August has ended everywhere in the world.

Come on over to bb_and_ww and give those characters some lovely prompts! :D

Please pimp this out if you know any one with any love of those kind of characters - it's multifandom after all and more prompts the merrier.

VID THE GRID:Primeval - Musical Styles

2009-07-21T08:50:04Z

My table for vid_the_grid claim of Primeval. Music styles table.

1.	Alternative	2.	Blues	3.	Country/Bluegrass	4.	Techno/Dance
5.	Heavy Metal	6.	Song Covers	7.	Instrumental/Classical	8.	Soundtrack
9.	Rock/Pop	10.	Big Band	11.	Vidder's choice	12.	vidder's choice

Planned vids:
1: Alternative - Death In Vegas "Hands Around My Throat" - general Nick/Stephen/Helen triangle
2. Blues -
3. Country/Bluegrass - Emmy the Great "War" - Nick/Claudia, Nick/Jenny
4. Techno/Dance - September "Cry for You"
5. Heavy Metal - Linkin Park "Somewhere I Belong"
6. Song Covers - Johnny Cash "Hurt" -
7. Instrumental/Classical - "James Bond Theme (Techno Remix)" - SF guys
8. Soundtrack - Quantum of Solace theme "Another Way To Die" - general death and betrayal
9. Rock/Pop - OneRepublic "Say (All I Need)" - Helens journey
10. Big Band - Elgar "Nimrod" (from "Enigma Variations") - Abby/Connor moments adding up
11. Vidders Choice - Star Wars "The Imperial March" (Darth Vader's Theme) - Helen and Leeks schemings
12. Vidders Choice - Requiem for a Tower - epic vid of all 3 seasons

Spare idea: Gigulione - humour vid

that evil ficathon is a foot!

2009-07-14T23:09:46Z

bb_and_ww
Bad Boys & Wicked Women Multifandom Ficathon

now taking prompts

(please oh please pimp it far and wide)

A bit of a friends cut

2009-06-28T15:59:28Z

This was probably long overdue as I've never really done one, but now, there you go, it is done finally.

If you're cut, it wasn't personal, I'm just having a declutter; I mainly cut people for combinations of these reasons.
a) they fell off the face of lj/rarely update
b) we don't have anything in common anymore
c) we don't know each other well enough/don't talk anymore

If you think you got mistakenly cut - which isn't impossible if I managed to be oblivious to a username change - then please comment here.

Telltale games code

2009-06-07T10:52:20Z

Telltale Games is 5 years old! So I got given a coupon to share, valid for 10 more days roughly. Get episodes for $5, instead of the usual $9 + for every person that uses it I also get $1 credit. :D

Seems nifty if anyone already has an interest in their games and wants to try an episode or two out on the cheap.

Also for fellow Monkey Island fans I recommend this post by Ron Gilbert looking back on the making of the original game.

Pimping Sanctuary Rumble Round 2

2009-05-16T09:23:25Z

I had quite a bit of fun taking part in Round 1 and here I am pimping Round 2 incase any of you Sanctuary fans on flist might like to join in too. :D

Come sign up here!
(and if you signup please mention my referral, thanks)

Fly by BSG vid rec

2009-05-11T12:58:52Z

Battlestar Galactica Tribute to "Mensch" by Herbert Groenemeyer. SPOILERS UP TO THE FINALE

I came across it at Fedcon 2009 where it was shown a few times as a little filler video, so the song is in German but has English subtitles. It's quite a melancholy song but I think it fits well for the whole series. I ended up buying it on iTunes since it just reminds me of BSG awesomeness now. :D

Dollhouse Fic: No Rest For The Wicked (Claire/Topher 1/1 K+)

2009-04-19T22:46:21Z

Title: No Rest For The Wicked
Author: Purpleyin
Rating: K+
Spoilers: Upto 1x08
Summary: Something is wrong with Topher. There's being a workaholic and then there's using it as an excuse. Claire/Topher – can be taken as friendship alone or with UST if you like and there's a bit of character angst for them both.

A/N: Kindly betaread by rodlox. Written for challenge 10 at dollhousefics using prompts “trust” and “difference”.

~

Glancing up, she's surprised to find Topher entering her office at quarter to five p.m. with a serious face.

“Is something wrong?” she asks, standing up, already anticipating the need.

“Yes,” he says precisely.

She waits, expecting an explanation to follow but he stands there sternly like he expects something from her instead.

“What?”

“I need your reports for Sierra, Cameron and Klein. Especially Cameron,” he replies coldly, reciting the names with the implication that each unfinished report is another disappointing fact.

“Is that all? You had me worried. I'll get them to you tomorrow morning, asap, I promise.” Claire smiles warmly, sitting back down, smooths her hands over her skirt as she does so and feeling silly for being on edge.

“I need the report now.”

There's a hard impatient tone lingering underneath his request, making it more of a demand. It surprises her because she wasn't aware he bothered to read any of her reports, regardless of the requirement to do so.

“I don't have them now.”

“I can wait.”

“Right, you can wait, but apparently not until tomorrow morning.”

“I need them now. I have work I ought to be doing, work that I want to do and I can't. Because of you,” he accuses, sounding more desperate by the second.

“Why is it so important for it get done tonight? Did Ms. DeWitt ask you to?”

“No, but unlike you, I consider it part of my job to anticipate what she wants me to do, not flail around until it's so obviously necessary.”

Claire really doesn't have the patience to endure his smart-alec antics most of the time, especially not when she's so close to being done for the day and despite her rising concern she finds herself snapping back a sharp reply

“So that's a no then?” she asks defensively – a challenge to his arrogance could be just what he needs to get him off his high horse about the damn reports.

“If you must have an answer to your question, then yes, she did not ask specifically for me to do this now, but I intended to until I noticed the lack of the reports.”

She was tempted to ask him why it was important again, however it was clear he'd belittle the repetition and she wouldn't get anything out of him on the subject. In which case, never mind the why, it wouldn't matter if he would give in to her request.

“You were in before me, and Ivy, this morning, weren't you. When did you last sleep? Why don't you take the night off, Doctors orders. I'm sure Ms DeWitt would support my estimate that you need rest. ”

“I don't feel like it,” he said, expression shifting to outright annoyance to match the petulant tone he was using.

Did anyone listen to her in this place? Days like this made her wonder.

She got up, walked round the desk and stood close enough she could make out how bloodshot and tired his eyes were. At a guess she didn't think he'd slept in the last 24 hours. The adrenaline of this argument and the absolute drive to do his work were probably the main things keeping him standing – she wasn't going to get sense out of him being polite, he'd assume her a pushover and keep hammering on until he got what he was looking for.

“And I don't like being accused of performing inadequately, especially when you'll note I'm doing exactly what you pointed out is necessary, anticipating her desire to have an employee not collapse of nervous exhaustion.”

“No,” and he turned around, stalking towards his office.

Not letting him get away with enigmatic responses was only part of the reason Claire ran after him in pursuit, catching up with him at the door, grasping his arm, which caused him to swing round abruptly. Claire could easily read his emotions: a mix of surprise and fear was evident on his face, likely from the fact that she'd come after him. She hadn't been expecting it herself, not any of this.

“What's wrong?” she questioned quietly, dropping all the anger she'd felt moments ago as she appealed to him for an answer.

“Not here. Let me go,” he pleaded under his breath, eyes flicking between her and the view over the balcony. She let go and peered towards where his line of sight had fallen, seeing what troubled him; the dolls all staring up curiously at where she and Topher are, attracted by the noise their exchange had caused and not realizing how it made people feel to be watched unashamedly. Claire swallowed hard as she felt Topher brush past – escaping - nervous of what she'd stumbled into and aware she'd possibly just made a difficult situation worse by pushing the issue. Requiring delicacy didn't mean she was letting the matter go as lightly as him asking her to drop it though.

Topher had sought shelter in the empty imprint room. He was pacing the floor, occasional glances to the repaired chair and Claire knew what this was about; trust, a betrayal. Not simply a betrayal by a person – Echo, Caroline, his creation, the mix of the two – but of what he expected from the Dollhouse, what it meant to be here.

Topher practically lived in the Dollhouse, he was a workaholic by anyone's standards but he'd almost died in here the other day. The Dollhouse was proven for a second time as not safe and this time it encroached on his space, his relationship with his work, his life. Being here was probably meant to be proof to himself he was okay, getting back on the horse, but he clearly wasn't okay. He was working harder and longer to exorcise the thoughts out of his mind, except being here more was going to make the problem worse, like a negative feedback loop.

“Topher, go home.”

It was a simple request this time and he looked every bit like he wanted to comply. Unfortunately, the problem was...

“This is home,” he said, standing there in defeat, resigned to it being the unfortunate truth.

“This office can't be your only home, not any more,” she walked across to him, reaching out with a gentle hand on his arm that this time he did not shirk, “It's not healthy, it's not safe.”

“I know it's not safe, don't think I don't, I did nearly die right there,” he pointed emphatically to an unremarkable spot on the floor about a meter away, “Or worse, my brain could have imploded in that chair, what a waste of my talents that would have been too.”

“That's why you need to go home. This place can never be safe, don't let it be safe, you'll be disappointed one day, like I was.”

“You still came back though.”

He stared into her eyes without blinking like he was searching hard for an answer, as if that would let him figure out why she had returned to a place that had hurt her. For him it was just a threat, a terrifying what if, but for her it had happened and still her she was.

“Yes, I came back. For the nine to five, for my patients, for myself.”

She wanted to say more, to admit it was so she could maybe get over it or to give it meaning and stop it happening again. Yet she couldn't voice those thoughts, and they were left implied.

“You still live in the company apartments. Have you even left the compound since your...injury?” He didn't give her enough time to reply, only a pause before he filled in the blank himself, “I know you haven't! I checked the logs. How's that healthy, hmm?”

He shifted his weight and she folded her arms. Lit was like a sudden standoff was happening where neither wanted to let go control. Every question answered was never fully explained and it was parried with yet another question

“Yes, you're right I do live here, but not in my office, and no it's not healthy, but it's...necessary.”

“I get it, you don't want to face the world yet. No pun intended,” and seeing her reaction he added “Really.”

She tenses at that, looks away for a moment, unable to face one person let alone the world. Of all the things he could have said she hadn't expect him to hit it right on head. Topher was tactless, sure, but she should have realized he was at least observant despite lacking good sense when expressing anything but the pure facts.

“I think our world here is enough to have to handle for now,” she replied almost diplomatically, when she could turn back to him.

She wasn't in the mood for a deeper discussion about herself today. Thankfully he took the hint to lose the focus on her, which she was grateful for considering she hadn't been merciful enough to ignore his demons. In fact, he took it as a natural end to their inadvertent dalliance in understanding the others psyche, forced cheer applied to emphasize the return to normality.

“You're probably right. On all counts. Don't quote me as saying that though; I'm not allowed to be wrong. Part of the job description, it's tough at times but someone has to do it.”

They're so close and the conversation has drawn wry smiles from them both. It's highly unusual for them to have a conversation for more than a minute, let alone agree on a subject, however tenuous this is. Claire doesn't know what's gotten into her, she finds herself reaching round and pulling the man into a firm hug. He clearly doesn't know how to react, his arms flailing at his sides at first, before he chooses to return the random display of affection.

She takes a deep breath. She's actually enjoying the embrace, having a warm body to hold onto. Soft skin brushes against her cheek as he relaxes into the hug and the extra contact jars her from her oddly content state, making her flush with unexpected interest. Alarms bells ring in her head - definitely time to break it off.

“Okay, that's enough of that.”

“Shame,” he replied laconically like it was beneath him to want it, and somehow also cheekily, a quick lip over his lips as he turned to make himself busy with anything else.

She stands idle watching him fretfully moving about equipment for a minute, wondering if this conversation has been enough to make a difference.

“In the future, I don't want to see you here if Ivy has left – use that as your cue, okay. “

“Sure.”

Topher is back to one words answers and not looking at her, which doesn't exactly fill her with confidence that they'd made a break through after all.

“Promise me you won't stay long tonight. Any night. ”

Topher stops what he's doing and looks over his shoulder to reply.

“I promise I won't.”

The way he says it, unblinking and directly addressing her, makes her believe he's genuine, he means it. Of course meaning it isn't always adequate because intention doesn't always lead to doing as you mean to, however much you mean it. As she leaves she hopes and prays, please let that be enough.

Dollhouse Fic: It's Hot In Hell (Claire/Topher 1/1 T)

2009-04-19T22:21:48Z

Title: It's Hot In Hell
Author: Purpleyin
Rating: mild T
Spoilers: Upto 1x02 only I think
Summary: Claire/Topher UST. Good things can come from bad things – make that very very bad things and very good things too, in the reverse retrospective order.

A/N: Kindly betaread by rodlox. Written for challenge 10 at dollhousefics using the prompt “instinct”.

~

He holds on to Claire Saunders, for dear life, because it's another one of those situations again. Bad things are happening and it's only by the grace of higher powers, that he may or may not believe in, that cause him to be pressed up against a rather fine lady instead of him potentially being human sushi outside in the corridor.

The universe is mocking him still. Outside certain death by one female, inside certain death by another female if he so much as lays a hand inappropriately and there is only so much space. It seems more like delaying certain death than anything. That and Claire'd probably be more humane, if she counts him as human – the way she looks at him sometimes he isn't too sure she does.

This is possibly why he so surprised that she's the one who's leaning in, sort of but not entirely he's guessing, involuntarily. There's a parting of the lips he can't help but notice her do. He really shouldn't be looking at her lips at all, but...

And she breathes out. She doesn't move her head, and hence her lips, any closer, but he feels her shift about, like she's trying to get away with him without him noticing, because if she thought he was being inappropriate he knows she'd let him know. Which leaves the option that she thinks she's being inappropriate, or about to be. His heart skips a beat, pure adrenaline fueling him as he holds his breath. Ultimately Topher sighs though.

She gives him an odd, startled, Bambi look and God, that makes him want to lean in. It could work, there isn't exactly enough room to throw a slap and a slap would draw attention too, attention they don't want. So would make-out noises though, so he skips over this one chance and curses the mocking. The universe hates him. Maybe it is the wrong job, bad karma, but it's got to be worth it right? Getting the girl isn't everything, isn't even expected for a guy like him. If they live then he should try a bit harder not to piss her off, it could be worth his while. He glances up and catches her looking at him, Claire blushing at being caught doing so and he realises it could be very worth his while if he can just control himself right now.

He closes his eyes, taking deep breaths and decides to recite pi in his mind – it's the closest thing to meditation for him and it is pretty far from thinking naughty wrong things about a colleague as he can get. Yet it doesn't work, every other thought between a number is him wondering what if, and he swears he can feel a hot breath on his neck, like she's come in closer, close enough he could just move and -

The door springs open, light flooding his view despite that his eyelids are shielding him, and he's yanked out before he knows it. I'm going to die! Frak, what a wasted chance, he thinks and doesn't bother to open his eyes. Ten seconds on and the expected pain doesn't come, causing great confusion. Topher opens one eyes to find an imprinted – and it had to be tough chick, didn't it, both fortunately and embarrassingly for this situation – Echo looking at him like he's a coward. She'd be too if she knew what people round here were capable of.

“Move it, shorty,” she says pushing him forward. Claire follows calmly, falling into step with the other woman and, genius as he generally is, Topher wishes he wasn't such a disappointment in certain areas.

He can't protect himself, that's what the security service is theoretically for, but they fail – big fail, massive fail, more than once now - and he can't reassure the one person he'd really like to be able to while a Doll (one he made) can do both and more. Nobody is perfect, not unless he makes them so. Nobody will thank him though and that's the secret of being good at his job, nobody will think they need to. Some days he entertains the thought of being a little, just a smidgen, on the side of mediocre to see if they notice for once but that would be unprofessional. He glances back at Claire surreptitiously as they turn the corner; probably as unprofessional as wanting to jump your in-house doctor.

It's not too long before he's back to wondering about more important, i.e. more currently pressing issues, like why he's the one in front.

“Hang on, am I cannon fodder here?”

But he doesn't stop and turn around like he'd thought would go so well with that comment, for emphasis on his disbelief – there's been enough embarrassment for the day. No more thinking about pressing things...

Dollhouse Fic: Best Work Ever (Claire/Topher 1/1 K+)

2009-04-18T20:22:25Z

Title: Best Work Ever
Author: Purpleyin
Rating: K+
Spoilers: Upto 1x07
Summary: Claire can tell the difference between old and new. This version is supposedly improved but she isn't so sure it was the right thing to do. Claire/Topher UST and angst.

A/N: Kindly betaread by rodlox. Written for challenge 10 at dollhousefics using prompt “difference”.

~

Topher is not the Christopher Brink. Claire knew Christopher Brink. One of a kind, introvert, genius, didn't have half the charm but he was sweet and maybe too good at his job, with all of this as the result.

When Chris died they were all shocked, it was sudden, it was a curve ball for the Dollhouse. Except Chris was a genius, a forward planning genius, with a strange sense of humour. In the bottom door of his desk was a bag, labeled simply “I will live on”. That was Topher Brink on hard drive, Chris' most useful imprint ever, an amalgam of the real Chris Brink and several other geniuses of the day – he considered it an upgrade on himself, Topher 2.0.

Then they retired Zeta. James Ashby. Jamie.

Adelle rationalized that nothing about the plan broke the contract – Jamie would get his money, he'd also get the usual salary for Chris's job, and he'd just happen to think he was Topher. He'd enjoy being Topher too, job satisfaction was inbuilt. Everybody would win. And that was how it was.

Maybe Claire hadn't protested as much as she ought to, but Chris had wanted this, and she hadn't been ready to let go. Maybe none of them where ready – after all Adelle had a heart in there somewhere, she must have some feeling for those under her command.

So, Claire did everything Chris would have done, hand holding and all. “Did I fall asleep?” Zeta asks after she wipes the imprint of a cold blooded killer from his mind and she wishes she could tell him he'll never “go to sleep” again, not for a long time after this, but it would only confuse him instead of reassure. It would probably be more for her benefit anyway, to ease her conscience – her own rationalization that this is not the same, not as damaging as what they did each day – they were giving birth to a new person who was here to stay for once. Yet she can't be sure it would remain true forever, not if there are glitches, not if he exhibits a mind of his own one day and rebels from the role they want for him. Claire doesn't trust events to go smoothly.

As it turns out Topher Brink has more charm, and more arrogance too, but she can see the threads of Chris in him still and it hurts. She knows he's another doll, she's always good to them, prides herself on being humane, treating them like the people they are because they don't know what's done to them, they don't feel less; they're blank slates taking all to heart. Except she finds it harder and harder with him, can't stand who they made him, another tool in the box – a replacement to Chris, a replacement for Jamie too, and it hurts as bad though she never knew Jamie.

He doesn't really have a life outside the Dollhouse. She knows he has an apartment just like hers, provided by the company – secure, monitored. Topher seems happy that way, he has his trinkets, puzzles, DVDs and games to occupy him along with work. He's a veritable workhorse, programmed to be a happy contented workaholic genius with no moral aversion to what they do.

She knows from the logfiles Chris left on the hard drive that he tweaked it so the guy wouldn't easily form attachments. Designed to be less hassle that way, business first and foremost, it's like work, in the form of problem solving, is what he lives for and she supposes that is pretty much true. Claire can see it too; he speaks calmly to the dolls, but he speaks of them like objects of curiosity, masterpieces at best. To him they're not quite people, not deserving in the same way, not until he makes them something. The irony is heart wrenching if she thinks about it too long and occasionally she wonders how he'd react if he knew the truth. He might deny it, laugh it off, he might as well just say “oh” and withdraw. She's not entirely sure it would matter, but maybe it would, maybe it would influence his work and they'd wipe all the memories away. It's all moot anyway, she'd never say anything, she knows better.

He was set a sleeper model, designed to protect the interests of the assignment and everything he does mimics the approximation of freewill, not being a doll right down to reacting like a real person should – he got so embarrassed when she saw him in his underpants due to his little inhibition snafu including inappropriate starches with Adelle DeWitt. DeWitt had Claire wipe the tapes from the room herself. Topher thinks it as because the big boss lady was embarrassed but they know, they are the only two to share the truth. Topher glitched, just a little, and no one else can ever know. All he remembers now is all he's allowed to.

Topher flirts with her at the start, or tries to, and he's vaguely better at it than Chris was. Topher's cute at first, in a dorky genius way that she knows is so highly artificial. You wouldn't know it was; she only does because she has seem the recruitment tapes of the real him, the 22 year old boy who doesn't exist any longer, flirting with the guy on the other side of the table to mask his fear of all this, the monsters he gave in to in order to escape the greater evil. Jamie wanted to forget all his troubles and that's a luxury she can't allow herself and that Adelle DeWitt hasn't yet offered as a 'perk'.

Topher still flirts with her after years of Claire ignoring him, winks accompanying taunts, backhanded ways to get her attention like a boy in the schoolyard pinching her arm. It gets her worked up, it gets her right where he wants her, actually caring about him – passion let loose from her otherwise mild manner. No matter how close she is to wiping that arrogant smirk off his face with a ruthless kiss, from vengeance as much as lust, she can't give in. In her heart she knows it's wrong, she can't let herself use him or risk caring for someone who will one day cease to exist. He's another doll who doesn't know it, who shouldn't care enough to engage in such an activity so shamelessly (though the last bit is totally him) but what he is and should be doesn't slow him down, nor stop her wishing it were real again.

Merlin Fic: Once More (K+ Arthur, Morgana 1/1)

2009-04-18T18:19:21Z

Title: Once More
Author: Purpleyin
Rating: K+
Spoilers: Upto 1x01
Summary: Morgana is trouble and Arthur thinks he knows why – past fic, with Arthur and Morgana as kids.

A/N: For rei17, prompt “Morgana/Arthur - emphasising their sibling-relationship ”. Thanks to sache8 for betareading.

~

It's Morgana's first winter in the castle and suddenly she was not doing as well as anyone had thought – she drove the servants crazy exploring the little-known areas, was forever getting lost for hours on end (Arthur thought this entirely intentional, though the adults never said as much) and broke about every rule she could as often as she could. If they'd punished her with the cane for every wrong she did she'd be practically dead, but they'd yet to try that with her; sympathy hadn't quite worn thin yet and it made Arthur jealous because they had never spared him the pain. No other less-damaging punishment made a dent in her resolve, everyone – everyone else that was – was baffled.

It was true she came from colder regions and was used to being cooped up for longer than you needed to be in Camelot, but Arthur knew she'd been spoilt by the long summer and the freedom they'd given her as much as by the kindness they tried to show her no matter what she did. He had wondered what they'd do if they knew she snuck into his chambers at night when his guard was asleep - as often happened - Arthur hadn't reported it, as he liked to make use of that flaw himself on occasion that he felt like escaping for a few hours.

Morgana sat in his window, ignoring the chill. The moon lit up her figure, made her look like a ghost, which was silly because she was alive. He wasn't sure it wasn't the right term though, because he wasn't sure he'd feel right if his father died like hers had and that was probably what bothered her, that she had a new father, who told her what was right when nothing could be.

“You could come in here, you know.”

He offered his bed – not that he was getting out of it - every time she visited, because it was the sort of offer he should make as a gentleman. He'd always been told his age was no excuse for bad manners, and of course that was the very opposite of the logic they applied to her, the exact type of behaviour that secretly enraged him. It didn't stop him offering though, to not do so would let up more than he wanted to show.

“I suppose I shall, since you offer,” she replied, more haughtily than he thought anyone should be when accepting a kindness.

That surprised him. She usually refused. He wasn't sure if it was because the chill at the window grew worse with the winter or if her pride was finally wearing down. She sprinted across the stones, kicking off her slippers before jumping in between the sheets.

“Argh! Your toes are freezing.”

“Shh! You'll wake the guard,” said the girl responsibly for almost making him scream. There was no reason for her to warm herself up on him, he was already sharing his blankets as it was.

“That's not my problem, I'm in my bed.”

“Do you really think they won't punish you? You did offer to let me in,” she looked at him, practically daring him to make a fuss and test their theories.

“Yes, yes, all right and don't worry he won't wake up. He never does. I'd probably be the only one punished anyway.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, defensive again. She had the audacity to feign innocence and he found he couldn't be bothered to play nice.

“As if you haven't noticed. They've been soft on you since you arrived. Have you even stopped to think they've never struck you, despite the fact it happens to me at least once a week.”

“I'm not like you,” she replied quietly yet defiantly.

“No, you're a girl,” he was exasperated and starting to get on a roll with all the repressed emotions blurting out. “A girl - with a dead father. Who they'll mollycoddle into her own dishonour -”

“You have a dead mother.”

“Exactly, and they never treat me differently.”

There's a second or two between the end of his rant where he feels he finally hit the point and might regret it, and her ever-so-soft reply as she shifts and turns over to face the window.

“Are you sure? Maybe it's just another type of different.”

Then they are both silent, lying in the moonlight, wondering what if tragedy had never struck. He realises they have something in common, something so simple, and it's not just that they live in the same place – he reaches out, takes Morgana's hand and they fall asleep willing to keep each others secrets.

Merlin Fic: Nothing Special (K+ Arthur, Uther 1/1)

2009-04-17T20:30:58Z

Title: Nothing Special
Author: Purpleyin
Rating: K+
Spoilers: Upto 1x01
Summary: Princes have to grow up fast, especially when there's an old king who doesn't tolerate the old ways. Past fic, with kid!Arthur.

A/N: For hope_calaris, prompt “the relationship between Arthur and Uther with a hurt!Arthur ” - this one is more implied, by what Uther's actions do to Arthur but hope you like it. Thanks to sache8 for betareading.

~

There are blossoms floating on the breeze, girlish laughs resonating in the air as children play outside and the music starts. They've been building a bonfire all day on the outskirts of the city, and it's one of the few times Arthur can remember people doing that with joy and not remorse. Today is different. He knows it means something to everyone not of the castle (and a few here too, but they shouldn't let on).

It is May Day. They don't call it by the other name any more. Arthur is old enough to know there used to be another name it went by, but never foolish enough to ask what that was. His father is always tense during these festivals and Arthur has heard mutterings from servants who wonder if the king might outlaw them altogether – no one says why, it's one of those subjects that's well known and hence kept secret from him entirely by coincidence.

The festival days seem to be unofficial, there are public gatherings, merriment, traditions upheld, but Arthur isn't allowed to join in. He frowns as he stares at the book in front of him and his tutor gives him a sympathetic smile and leaves, promising to return shortly with a delight. Arthur isn't so sure his tutor's idea of anything fun will match his. He wishes he was out there. He's quite sure Morgana has managed to sneak out by now and won't be missed until supper time, unlike him. He stares at the book and curses being a prince.

Marcus rushes back in, shutting the door, as if anxious not to be seen by anyone along the corridor. Held fast in his tutor's hand is a small branch, the end sawn off in a hurry, and the rest of it in full bloom.

“Today is no different from any other day,” he repeats the king's rhetoric as he places the branch down in front of Arthur, “but if you are not allowed outside then we shall have to bring it to you.”

“But why this?” Arthur can't help but ask, curious and just a little rebellious at the same time.

His tutor is stony faced for a moment, before answering in a jovial manner.

“You are to study the composition of the blossoms. An understanding of how plants flower and crop would be a healthy addition to any prince's education.”

That excuse sounds weak to Arthur. He may only be nine but he has a good knowledge of what his father would approve of, or not, as the case may be. He doesn't question the man further though, and they sit in silence whilst they both studiously ignore the lack of work going on – Arthur stares at the blossom and for once dares to dream for more than a second, because he can tell that today is different and maybe fate will allow it.

Merlin Fic: There Is Reason Behind Everything (K+ Arthur, Uther 1/1)

2009-04-17T20:16:57Z

Title: There Is Reason Behind Everything
Author: Purpleyin
Rating: K+
Spoilers: Upto 1x02 “Valiant”
Summary: Everyone appears to celebrate, but things are never as simple as they seem. Arthur POV on events of the episode.

, prompt “the relationship between Arthur and Uther with a hurt!Arthur” - I think it has a heavy dose of foreboding on the legend, with less hurt!Arthur than I wanted but I hope it does the job alright. Thanks to sache8 for betareading.

>~

Everyone praises him; naturally, there'll be a toast to his success because the whole banquet is in his honour. There's Morgana on his arm and all smiles among the crowded feast room as he glances around at the scene – Arthur would almost be convinced all is well until he spies his father's look.

His father is smiling too, though Arthur knows what he's thinking underneath his subtly warm and relieved expression – there's one type of war craft they can't fight against and this win is really no win at all. It is a sign of what is coming, one they are happy to dismiss for the time being because magic has no place here. The difference for them is that it won't become real if they keep repeating it – ironically, it's not a spell and not a wish that will be granted.

What matters is that the House of Pendragon still stands, the valiant winner as always, as it should be. The family honour – almost tradition considering their reign - is upheld with the proud golden dragon standing out for all to see, against the red of the battlefield; the banners fluttering in the arena, where they will stay as reminders until the next tournament is held.

Order is returned to Camelot with everyone's faces turned away from the horrors, everyone ignoring what is coming apart at the seams, magic ripping through because it can never be truly denied. His father has tried for too long, for as long as he has known, and tried too hard, to the detriment of many other pressing issues that may not be quite so incidental, Arthur feels. Now they feel the magic rising up – only a druid or witch here and there, but more than is usual - and they can't resist, not forever, however much King Uther desires it banished. Arthur fears his father will be long dead before magic ever will be, if it can be.

He knows that for every win from now on there is a loss heading towards them, set far in the future he hopes. It's all building up to that day when he will disappoint his father. Perhaps his father already senses it, perhaps he has always known it will happen and that is why he has been tough, why Arthur has never lived up to expectations time and time again. Perhaps that is why Arthur never trusts praise to be as simple and unfettered as it is meant – he is too used to seeing something else, a worry to contradict that, behind his father's eyes.

Tonight Arthur embraces his father, accepts his care shown as genuine, but one day Uther will realise what it is held in those confused eyes, and Arthur will have to choose between family and what is right.

Primeval Fic: Do Not Stray (1/1 K+ Abby/Connor)

2009-04-16T00:18:58Z

Title: Do Not Stray
Author: Purpleyin
Rating: K+
Spoilers: S3 character, but other only general

Summary: Abby/Connor future fic, angsty and fluffly, with an extra dose of kids.

A/N: Betaread by doylefan22 and rodlox - you're both like speedy gonzales of the fic world. ;). Late fic for black-rose-fics as part of 2009 primevalathon

~

The sun is high in the sky, the bright blue sky that she remembers watching, unblinking and thinking about how good today would be. Old rock on the radio, a basket in the back, a quilt Connor's mum had made sitting between Lucy and Nikki, with the girls twisted round playing cats in a cradle because they were that bored on the thirty minute journey. Abby groans. Her mobile rings and she wants to hit snooze and go back to sleep – Lester is ringing, she knows that tone. It drills into her head worse than she's ever known. It could be Sarah. Whoever...she reaches out into space towards the sound.

A peek, slits of light let in and it is dazzling through the confetti of the windscreen on the ground, casting rainbows on the pools of liquid by her fingertips. There's a crunch underfoot outside the car and she wonders what's wrong. There is something wrong with this picture and she remembers – she opens her eyes.

There's a horn blaring too but it's not theirs, how could she not know that, how could she not notice? Connor is slumped into the air bag, but it's not his fault, it's not. It's wrong, but it's not his fault.

“Wake up. Get up”

The words are weak, she can't shake him, she can't wake him and the pools at her fingertips are sticky and not hers. The quilt peeks out too, the only sign she can see that back of the car was in any way disturbed – no signs of the girls. Just red specks on the quilt and bile in her throat as she retches – upside down, that's an experience. She could strain, she could try to see them but she can't move. It's too much to do and their all stuck in place, but not frozen in time, no, that would be too easy. Clocks are ticking, the tip tap of blood dripping, and every second is another roll of the dice; will they live or will they die? and she feels her eyelids fluttering when she doesn't mean for them to.

There's siren in the distance, a horn outside, and a ringing in her ears. The phone starts up again, such a cheerful tone that she hates it. She'd smash it to pieces if she could, if she knew where it was, if she didn't feel like the world was washing away.

~

Everything is...not white. It's so not white that he knows he's staring at a ceiling and by how he feels – bloody awful, worse than the time he got ruffed up by football hooligans looking for an easy target - that equates to a hospital. Everything else is 'fill in the blanks'.

“Oh, you're awake. Nurse!”

The snarky voice of his boss wasn't what he was hoping to wake up to.

“And feeling all the head splitting pain of consciousness too,” he answered gruffly, “Can I have some water?”

The nurse helps him sit up, feeding him a few ice chips whilst Lester watches the indignity. Connor isn't sure the man's pride would survive should he ever be in his place.

“What happened? Dino of the day got one round me? That hasn't happened for a while, but suppose it ought to every now and then.”

He says it too cheerfully, he knows he's doing it, and he knows why – because Lester is so po faced and hasn't offered an accusatory backhanded comment about his un-Darwinesque survival. That means it can't be that simple or pleasantly explained.

“You were in a car crash.”

“That explains half of it, but why are you here then? Where's Abby?”

“Abby was in the crash too.”

Connor honestly doesn't remember it. He tries hard to recall details. How did it happen? How were they afterwards, did he see them?

“Is she..?“

“Not dead, no.”

It's clearly not the full story, though Connor is certain Lester would be showing some sign of cracking if it were that bad. He's putting all his faith in the fact the man is human and absolutely has to crack sometime.

“And...”

Connor gulps. He's grateful Abby's alive but he won't be able to bear it if Lester breaks down at this.

“And the...”

He can't ask, he can't stand the -

“They're fine,” Lester looks at him disparagingly like even thinking it was abominable,”Cuts and scrapes, few bruises, but nothing more. They're very lucky, luckier than you.”

“You're telling me.”

“Yes, I am,” he says sternly, sort of accusatory and the next thing out of his mouth explains, though it's gentler than the last part, “They're actually staying with me.”

“Really?”

“Don't read too much into it.”

Lester inspects the floor intently, probably looking at his ornate custom made shoes or whatever. Of course Connor knows that means; Lester is glad they're all okay, he doesn't need to say it and he probably won't today, not to him anyway.

“The other driver wasn't so lucky,” Lester says suddenly as an after thought he obviously isn't too sure he should voice, though his righteousness creeps back in as he elaborates, “but I'd be personally offended if the blasted universe saw fit to reward such an idiot that thinks overtaking on a blind corner is fine and dandy behaviour.”

At that Lester leaves and now Connor knows everything will most likely be all right he allows himself to drift back into much needed sleep.

~

The sun is streaming through the window, through the prism Nikki hung, not because it made a pretty rainbow but because it made a pattern.

The quilt is on the bed, to one side where it was when she fell asleep. It's not finished yet, it's still stained but on the mend, more patches added to it. There's still plenty of time left – she has far too much time still as her bones mesh back together and the bruises fade.

There is a screaming in the distance, a tickle fight erupting no doubt, girlish giggles from her other daughter as she watches and then another voice squealing as she gets her turn. About five minutes later a troop appears at the door, led by Connor with the tray.

“Happy Mother's Day.”

“It's not really,” Lucy says, hanging onto his leg.

Nikki pinches her sister and a squabble breaks out.

“Stop it. I mean it. Stop it now!”

Nikki pinches her sister again and Connor squirms a little as they fight around his legs.

“Take pity on me will you?”

His pleas don't have the slightest effect and Abby is wondering if she'll actually get to sample the contents of the tray or if they'll soon be gracing the floorboards. The third change of tack gets a response finally.

“Won't you at least behave for your mum, don't forget she can punish you when she's all recovered.”

The kids both stops what they're doing, look up at him, pouting. He laughs at that, ultimately amused more than anything else, seeing as no damage is done, and steps away from their forlorn looking children to continue the procession to Abby's bed ridden person. He settles it to one side and helps her sit up, unavoidably it hurts to do so, but she grins and bears it, puts on a smile as the girls watch it all too silently.

Connor turns back to them, “Come on, what are you waiting for?”

It's all they need to confirm they're off the hook for now and there's a mad rush onto the bed, amongst which Connor's shouting “Oi, oi, watch mummies legs – you know she can't move them in casts.” though they manage perfectly to avoid stumbling over her and only appear to do enough to simply fluster him. It's endearing, seeing him take charge of the kids, half because it makes her feel things would be alright, you know, if things had been different and also because he looks rather fine flushed, but that's a thought to store away for latter.

“Now, you know why it's Mother's Day today, don't you?”

“Because mummy deserves it!” Lucy shouts excitedly, happy to play her part. No doubt this has been well rehearsed downstairs.

“And she shouldn't have to wait a whole year, you're not allowed to miss it ever!” finishes Nikki.

“That's right. You shouldn't ever wait to tell people you love that they're important.”

“Then why isn't it mothers' day every day?” piped up Lucy as she climbed round to the other side of Connor, who looked at her. Time to play mum again she guessed, dad's role must be over, all his lines are used up.

“Well, I think it should be but that's just me,” Abby said with a wink as she picked up a bit of toast with her right hand, watching Lucy crawl perilously closer to the wobbling tray. Connor rushed to pick it up, swiftly moving it across to the dresser, sweeping a few niknaks of his off before resting it firmly out of the way.

When Connor turned back round, he must have been met with the cutest view he'd seen for sometime. From his expression alone it seemed to make his heart swell. Lucy had crawled up to one side of her, resting there so Abby had to hold her toast far out to one side unable to put her arm down and Nikki was half sat and half splayed laying down on the bed with her head at Lucy's feet.

“Wait one second, stay like that. I have to get the camera.”

“No,” Abby protested, “You don't. Don't go anywhere, don't faff around with pictures, just sit,” she said, gently patting the other side of the bed to her with her more bruised arm. “There's no rush, we've got plenty of time but it's worthless if you don't make use of it.”

“Okay, sure,” he walked across and sat down next to her, being careful not to make the mattress spring and disturb her as he did so.

“We don't need a photo of this Connor. All we need is memories. You know I need a few new ones.”

“Yeah, don't we all. Be nice if we could wipe about the literally disastrous version of today.”

“This is the best Mother's Day I've ever had.”

“I don't know about that, don't go writing off all the rest. Might get some photos too, without ruining the moment.”

“That'd be nice.”

Her eyes watered but Abby smiled, a genuine smile that she was sure graced her whole face despite a few tears rolling down it, hopefully enough to reassure him she was happy - Connor leant over and kissed his wife tenderly on the lips and she couldn't imagine being more so.

Primeval Fic: For Everything There Is A Time (1/1 T Nick/Jenny)

2009-04-15T23:28:55Z

Title: For Everything There Is A Time
Author: Purpleyin
Rating: T
Spoilers: Up to 3x03

Summary: Nick/Jenny work things out. References a 3x03 comment, bit angsty in that case unless you ignore that completely. ;)

A/N: Betaread by doylefan22 and rodlox - you guys are awesome for the speedy turnaround! :) Late fic for black-rose-fics for 2009 primevalathon.

~

What was she like?

She's wanted to ask about Claudia ever since she met Helen – ironic that her comments sparked an interest where she'd had none before. One person sounded crazy; two people made it real, though there was still a distinct possibility both of them were mad as hatters (Lester had medical teams researching anomaly side effects for that very reason).

Was she like me?

She wants to ask but she doesn't, because it's too soon after Stephen. It's too soon, it's too raw to remind him what else he's lost. Jenny knows he'd just look at her like he wishes she was someone else, like he did when she'd first told him that he had her confused. The difference is now she wants him to be right, she wants him to find that woman in her. If she knew a little more then maybe she'd find her inner Claudia Brown. Would it be the worst thing if she was a bit the same, other than looks? If it would make him the slightest bit happier, she wants it to be.

Am I really that similar?

She still wants to ask a month after and yet she can't. When will it ever be appropriate if he doesn't bring it up? Looks like she trained him well because he doesn't mention it all – no slips of the tongue, no bewildered glances where he forgets. Finally he sees her fully as Jenny Lewis and she's not sure if that's enough for her, to just be the woman he's been mistaking for someone else after she's gotten used to meaning more. It's a curse that all that emotion he felt was incidental to her having doppelganger in another reality.

Am I the woman you love?

She doesn't ask, she pushes her curiosity down – whatever will be will be. A week past that though she thinks stuff it! and she has a bright idea. A crazy idea too.

~

Nick stares at her sitting on the bench and then down at the letter he'd holding. A crisp clean sheet, short and precise, handwritten and signed with a dramatic flourish.

“Claudia Brown would like to meet you in the memorial garden. I knew this was a joke,” he points a finger to, well, make a point, “Didn't expect this malarkey from you but oh, I should've known it would be the last person I suspected. You're...something else.”

He shakes his head, bemused and Jenny pretends to think for a moment as she gets up, seemingly considering his words before answering, with a self-satisfied smirk to top it off.

“Yes, I am”

Hopefully he meant something special and not a piece of work.

“You're not Claudia Brown,” he says exasperated, angrily pointing at the fake signature.

“Not by name at least.”

“Oh, now you think you're the same, do you?” His words are half-accusation, half-laughed, as he steps forward.

Does he think that's raising the bar? He's never properly argued with her before. He might be all in her face, close enough to spit practically and she's lucky he's a man who doesn't, but it will take more than that to get her off this track. Calmly she answers him in the manner she has perfected; all bossy so and so that anyone in an argument with her hates.

“I was hoping you'd tell me.”

“Haven't I been doing that since I first met you?”

That was his first mistake, his repeated mistake in fact - now she remembers what it was about him that made her blood boil, that made her despise that bloody name he kept forcing on her day after day.

“No! You were telling a woman you didn't know that she was someone else entirely. I want you to tell me how we're alike, Claudia Brown and I, now that you know me.”

That hadn't come out like she'd wanted.

Nick stared at her for the second time that day. Oddly, she couldn't tell if he was angry at all. A moment ago he had appeared furious which made the stillness, the silence from him, all the more strange.

Jenny was losing her cool, and her control. She found herself leaning forward, daring him, egging him on – thinking just say something won't you, say what you're thinking damn you. Oh yes, things were not going to plan.

“Do I know you?” he asks huskily. Trust Nick to start playing Devil's Advocate when he gets his head round the idea she wanted him to realise.

“I would've said you have a good start. You could get more in-depth.”

She was expecting him to reply with a vaguely clichéd retort like, in-depth is what I do best, or a cheesy rude professor joke about studying specimens. What she hadn't considered was his warm lips closing down on hers, before capturing her top lip, teasing her. When she came to her senses, or at least one good sense to respond, she caught him off guard, like her hesitation had made him confident and actual two way interaction was more intimidating. He pulled back as though startled despite the fact he'd been the one to initiate it.

Jenny didn't let him pause for thought though, deciding that the time for decisive action was definitely now. Pulling his head closer, her lips closed on his, strong and sure. The goal was to kiss him with enough passion to force all thought out of his brain and make sure he didn't second guess himself for one second longer. But as she lost herself in the sensation and felt his tongue caressing the tender skin of her inner lip, she let out a light moan and pretty much forgot the why herself. Her hands snaked round his neck and back, a desperate plea for there to be less space between them, and his own hands on her waist scooted her hips up against his until they were flush.

Only it was over far too soon, both unprepared for how worked up they'd gotten and thoroughly out of breath. They broke it off, Jenny resting her head in the crook of his neck, pressing a few small kisses to his skin, making him shudder gently with pleasure. The whole thing would have felt unreal to her if she hadn't been holding on so tight. All she'd wanted was an explanation and instead she got more than Claudia ever had.

He was the first to say something and it was said quietly but jovially – not a tone she'd heard from him much in the past few months.

“I don't think that was quite the right order we're meant to go in.”

“As if you care, Nick Cutter,” she glanced up and smiled freely before settling herself against his cheek, testing the roughness like it was foreign to her. It had been a while since she'd had any stubble burn, but she couldn't say she missed it.

“You're right, I couldn't give a toss.”

“Careful what you say.”

“Am I giving you ideas? Because if I am that's your dirty mind, thank you very much.”

“You might just thank me if I followed through, but you're right, let's take things slow. The time honoured route. How about a drink sometime?”

He grimaced, “I'm busy tonight.”

“And not with me? I'm offended”

“Ask me again, another time.”

He did looked genuinely annoyed to not be able to say yes...

“I plan to.”

“Please do,” he whispered in her ear, before he stepped back. He held one hand, such a sentimental gesture like he didn't want to let go yet. “I'll look forward to it.”

Of course then he walked away, in what must be a typical Cutter style, a few steps backwards before spinning on his heel. What was different was the grin on his face, possibly a spring to his step as well, and she couldn't help but grin at this too.

“Me too,” she calls out as she stands in the breeze. Being outside suddenly feels a lot colder, more exposed.

No matter how much time passed, he was denied what he wanted – Helen, Claudia – and she hadn't got what she thought she wanted either. They'd both gotten what they needed. Personally, she thought she damn well needed more of that.

Episode 3x01 thoughts

2009-03-28T21:03:01Z

Okay, I'm not imagining it am I - Nick did call her Claudia Brown at the start? Either Jenny takes it as an in joke or something like Jenny merging back in to Claudia has happened... I'm a bit confused on that. Can't recall if Lester called her Jenny or not. Eh, will see in the next ep and with a rewatch of this. If this is so I could definitely work stuff with my primevalbigbang fic as in between seasons almost fix it fic, but that'd mean watching all of S3 before writing any more. Probably sensible really.

Sarah Page initial thoughts - I like her and her introduction was actually not so badly handled, seems a bit unplausible almost but not massively so. I might even like to read some Sarah/Abby or Sarah/Connor friendship fic, Sarah/Claudia or Sarah/Nick friendship too - everyone needs more friendship fic, k?

So yeah, she's an egyptologist or mythologist, whatever - of course it's going to be compared to SG but I don't care much, I'm looking forward to the legends link since I always thought there surely should be anomalies into other non-prehistoric times. Totally got a picture in my brain that deserves some fan art of Helen posing as an Egyptian God, being worshipped as a little vacation lol.

Speaking of Helen, hurray for sensible but cool futuristic combat ready clothing this season. I'm surprised Helen doesn't know what that thing is, yet Lester's new nemesis/beau? does. I think I already am liking the setup for this season. After all, Sarah's intro went all right in my opinion, Becker is in there but not massively pushed on us yet, taking it slow, and the preview for next episode makes me feel a bit better about Quinn's introduction too. All in all I'm pretty excited for the season, especially on the Nick/Helen and Lester fronts.

Random thoughts...
- gutter!mind made me have thoughts about how Connor got over his issue with toilets, not to mention how the issue with museums could be resolved. Yes, bad thoughts. Evil smutty fic writer bunnies!
- not so fond of Claudia/Jenny's new fringe, makes her face appear too round. Season 1 look is still my favourite and the same goes for Cutter's hair.
- do they, Nick and Claudia/Jenny seem closer? how much time is meant to have passed? enough time for hair growing or cuts evidently. timelines based on how fast hair could grow lol.
- Connor still has his old look, just new hair. I'm liking new hair on both him and Abby = hair!envy
- hey, Abby and Connor's flat has got new things, oooh. Set!love.
- I was sort of hoping they'd keep and study the suncage.
- only one episode and I could go for some Becker/Lester snarky banter fic. I'm not sure how that is. I'm not a big one for all the slashed OC's or anything and I never really got into any ofo the other main character slashes, but that maybe I could get behind. Must be the pretty on show + the snarky.
- just where was that cliff meant to be?

Multifandom graphics post - 83 icons - Primeval, Sanctuary, SGA & Merlin

2009-03-21T22:06:56Z

60 - Primeval (Helen, Nick/Helen, Nick/Stephen, Nick, Nick/Ryan, Ryan, Abby, Abby/Connor, Claudia, Lester, Lester/Claudia, Stephen, Connor, S3 character)
12 - Sanctuary (Henry, Ashley, Helen, Druitt, Tesla, Henry/Ashley)
7 - Merlin (Morgana, Arthur, Merlin)
4 - SGA (Weir, McKay)

-Rules-
*Comment if taking
*Please credit missyvortexdv/Purpleyin in userpic info
*No hotlinking (upload to your own image hosting to use)

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Created with angelamaria's Icon Table Generator @ Bauble

Primeval fic: A to Z of Management (K+ Nick/Claudia 1/1)

2009-03-16T23:03:03Z

Title: A to Z of Management
Author: Purpleyin
Rating: K+
Spoilers: All of S1

Summary: Claudia sometimes wonders how she gets through each day at the office – sometimes advice helps but often enough it doesn't. Claudia POV mix of humour and angst, with a fair touch of Claudia/Nick on the side.

A/N: Betaread by fififolle. Some quotes included are modified versions of actual historical quotes, though I'm afraid I forgot sources for most of them.

~

“Zeal without humanity is like a ship without a rudder, liable to be stranded at any moment”
- Owen Felltham

~

It's when she's struggling to find her calm that she tends to turn to the particular object of scorn, eyes glancing to the left and thoughts drifting. The tear-away calendar block sits on her desk, mostly ignored though. On a rare occasion she'll swipe a bunch of the pages off, flipping through them before depositing them in her bin. The quotes, each one beginning with the next consecutive letter of the alphabet, are full of virtually meaningless drivel that anybody could write and usually Claudia doesn't give the awful thing the time of day. Except, sometimes, when she's a little desperate and doubtful, she wonders if there's a little truth to them that shouldn't be so bluntly dismissed. Doesn't help that it was her ever critical Aunt Agatha – who'd insisted she wasn't cut out for the Civil Service - who had gifted the thing to her...

~

Always let your subordinates know who's boss, but never bully them. A firm hand and good communication are vital instruments to back up rational thinking and discipline in the work place.

She scoffs at that sentiment. Does she have any subordinates? Certainly Cutter or Stephen would never think of themselves that way. Their behaviour implies they consider their team outside her remit half the time. Firm hand or not, it seems she struggles to communicate adequately with them, which flusters her as she thought she excelled at that aspect of her job. Connor is perhaps the only member of the rag-tag team they've got going that might act like she's in charge, if purely because he's unlikely to go against her command – of course Connor is in fact under Cutter's command as it were. Though, she has to admit to being relieved Nick isn't directly under her, professionally speaking. Otherwise life might prove more complicated in the future than would please her, and that would definitely displease Lester more than a little. For now the connection is there but the meaning is still vague and undisclosed.

~

Bring a positive attitude to your feedback and people will accept constructive criticism with more grace.

If only Lester would take the thought to mind, it would halve the amount of complaints she receives daily.

~

Collect your thoughts together before replying to any questions.

She can honestly say she already does that one, fat lot of good it tends to do for her though, since Nick always goes off on a tangential thought, Lester will always find something to fault even if it's not hers, Connor will always have ten more questions after that answer and Stephen just looks back at her, calm and cool, a little unnerving because she can't tell what he thinks unless a smile creeps up on his face if she tries a joke. Abby always takes her time though, she can tell, a small pause like she's doing the same and there are days when she thinks the only true and proper rational conversation she has is with Abby or the other assistants.

And she's hates that her mind went there. Assistant. She's not even officially Lester's assistant, he has one already, or possibly two – does he collect them? Is she the latest in line to be sucked into this role? - but she might as well be. She feels like an assistant to everyone on the team, general dogsbody, the person who arranges it all, who makes it happen – everything from lunch to an airlift. Nobody is there to make things happen for her, nobody thinks much about her, which is why she screws that page up in the tiniest ball she can physically manage before tossing it clear out the door. Let someone else clean it up, today she's had enough because she'll be going home to empty cupboards, if she even gets home on time at all.

~

Decide what you want from a colleague before you undergo a review of their position.

It was quite possible that if she did a review of anyone's positions she might find they weren't suited to the jobs they unofficially had. She wasn't even sure Lester was suited to his role, but his bacon would be saved by his connections, besides which HR didn't dare bother intervening with anyone so high up.

Claudia was, however, very relieved she'd gone with her first instinct and just listed the whole team as consultants. Consultants didn't get any employee benefits but they did get a nice fee, and in this case she'd made sure to take out insurance coverage for injury and death, though she rather hoped she'd never have to explain someone being ravaged by a toothy prehistoric creature to the private health insurance again – there were only so many times they were likely to believe it was a crocodile. It would have been so much easier and believable if it had been Abby, the “zoology consultant” - and she felt bad for thinking it – instead of a physics consultant. If they kept it up at this rate they might run out of their actual consultancy pool.

~

Every days brings obstacles – be prepared to try and rise to the challenge.

Obstacles? Would that be an accurate description for maniacal ex-wives involved in a grand conspiracy or is that more of an inconvenience on top of the ten-foot long prehistoric alligators munching on the local population?

The creator of this pithy book of motivational phrases and quotes, Dave Hartfield, had clearly never had reason to question the definitions of problems and obstacles, or, as she would prefer to call the ones she came across, roadblocks. People who had normal careers, that didn't involve time travel, had relatively known quantities that by comparison made for a crystal clear roadmap.

~

Fortune favours the brave.

Apart from being blatantly ripped off, the type of motto you'd learn from a childhood Latin class, it was such a load of horse shit. She couldn't bear to look at it a second longer than she had to, it got ripped to shreds, an inadvertent confetti spread across her desk by an incoming draft as a colleague opened a window nearby. One large piece was flipped over, still legible: brave.

If it were true there would be a lot more good, brave, men and women still alive today.

~

Gathering information can be one of your most powerful tools – don't neglect this valuable resource, it's just waiting to be tapped into!

If she ever had the nerve to write a pithy letter to the author she'd probably have asked “Pray, tell, how exactly does one extract information from a scaly creature from an indeterminable time period?” Claudia knew when it came to researching prehistoric creatures she'd be stumped, and for the most part uninterested too, that was why they had Connor and Nick. That was in fact at least half the justification she'd made to Lester for them being kept on the project.... The problem was sometimes people expected too much, and “her pet academics,” as Lester had called them once, didn't realise their own limits. Try as they might they didn't always have an answer, or more accurately, anything resembling useful information - because no, figuring out you'd in fact discovered a new species with unique anatomical features was not, 90% of the time, much help – and then everyone looked to her. Lester impatiently, as if she was a child who's conduct he was deeply disappointed in. Abby and Connor looked for direction, Stephen tended towards doing his own thing in his own way and Nick...

Nick tended just to stare often enough, whether he was looking for an answer or not, and occasionally made her feel like she was another new species he'd discovered. Considering he'd been mourning his (ex-)wife, who'd abandoned him for another time period, for eight years and possibly a little still, then maybe women did feel like that to him. Claudia hoped that once he got over the situation, and Helen, that he'd put half the enthusiasm into the discovery of their relationship as he did currently on random creatures.

~

Home is a sense of where you belong, strive to make your workplace more fitting and your mood, as well as productivity, will increase.

She stared around her desk – she had a photo of her and her parents taken what now seemed like long ago, after her graduation, and freebie stress reliever ball in the shape of a fat pig. Hardly homely or particularly personalised. Still, she rarely spent much time at her desk these days so she supposed it mattered little.

The little touches tended to go into the clothes she wore these days; it was a challenge to get practical outfits that were both classy, professional looking, and didn't impede her running from this week's big bad monster. Plus, there was the fact it was best to avoid red – she'd always liked the palette of bold and basic colours, but after the pteranodon incident she preferred to at least leave red for casual wear.

~

In order to discover new lands, one must be willing to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.

Now that was one of the unintentionally very true phrases the thing presented. She just wished Helen Cutter had never found the shore again.

~

Jokes should be about laughing with and not at a person.

That's one she flags for the attention of the entire universe.

It doesn't seem to have stopped mocking them all yet.

~

Keep trying and eventually you will be rewarded.

There are few rewards Claudia cares for.

There's no chance of a true promotion in sight, just more money that she doesn't have enough time to spend. The closest she gets to a reward is a night off with friends, a couple of bottles of wine and no mention of her job.

The one thing she keeps at most consistently is trying to figure out the mind of one Nick Cutter, with limited success. There's plenty she knows from observation – he buys far too many stripy shirts, he's fond of organised clutter as a lifestyle choice and he has enough of a sense of humour not to freak out at outrageous chat up lines – but even with the resources of the government she can't work out what his life has been like. She has facts and figures, dates and names of time spent studying or his jobs, but no real knowledge of what makes him him apart from the tragedy and mystery unravelling in front of them all. It frustrates her more than anything else because for all his cheeky grins and shared jokes, he won't open up to her one bit.

~

Live life like this is your last day.

Curse the calendar for being so painfully relevant – she hardly needed a reminder her life was going nowhere fast when there was the chance of being torn limb from limb every other day.

Phrases like that made it sound like life was about taking risks and all she knew was her experience put up large warning signs at the thought of risk taking, as that was exactly the thing that would made it another someone's last day.

~

Make your mark in your chosen field.

In another ten year's time that might be possible, right now she was eternally in Lester's shadow. He often passed the buck to her, meaning she had power, but there was no influence, no reputation outside this dreary office. Some days sitting around in here it bothered her to have some of the higher up's looking down on her as little more than a glorified secretary, and other days she cared far more about what power she did have - to facilitate saving lives, keep peace and order, and pushing the boundaries of science. That last one wasn't one she'd ever dreamt of doing but it did wow her often enough when she thought hard about it all.

~

No idea will go anywhere without enthusiasm! A mediocre idea that generates enthusiasm will go further than a great idea that inspires no one.

Shame that this office generated a lot of mediocre ideas people got behind, like dress up Friday – did they realise how impractical either costume or evening attire would be for those out in the field? - or lunchtime entertainment sessions in the spare meeting rooms.

You could write an absolutely amazing proposal for the benefits of introducing a new committee to do research into creature capture and retention, or a report on the importance of ascertaining the relevancy of current rumoured top secret projects elsewhere in the world, and no one would give a damn. Whether it would cut their work load or not made not a whit of difference as far as she could tell.

But karaoke at lunchtime had them literally squealing with joy.

~

O gets absent mindedly scribbled on, over and over until the pencil marks are so thick you could blow away a layer of excess. Then she starts on the rest of the note, quaint girlish doodles escalating into garish scenes of violence and she never recalls what it said underneath. Not every day is made or lost on the basis of a few choice words, some days she's lost before she made it through the door.

~

Provide a united front against your critics.

When they were being criticised by outsiders was about the only time they ever had any appearance of a united front. Seeing Lester defend Nick and co. did bring a smile to her face and every so often she wondered if she should dare record it for posterity, blackmail and/or leverage material. There were few things she could think of doing to make Nick speechless and showing such footage to him was the most professional option.

~

Question what you know as much as what you don't.

They seem to do that every single moment lately. A single anomaly turns into two. Two turns into many and there's a pattern, a pattern they have to use but can't entirely trust. Ever changing circumstances lead to it being unwise to have actual expectations.

Her contact list is packed these days. Number and emails for numerous conceivable needs. Logic dictates that they might need SF, larger military backup, experts from nearly a dozen fields, air lifts, rescue helicopters – in other words a force slightly short of the actual British army. But the other side of her new logic says there's all these other things that haven't happened yet. They don't fit a pattern, apart from the category of what if.

What if an anomaly isn't contained? What if it never closes? What would you need to stop a whole continent's worth of creatures from coming through? What if it vents toxic atmosphere onto our side? What if it opens into a place where it's the vacuum of space in another time? What if it causes a worldwide outbreak of something and she has to convince the CDC to take them seriously about where the killer virus is from?

If she has cause to jump ship and get a new job she can at least feel satisfied the line in her skill section of her CV that lists “Critical thinking” will be fully qualified.

~

Reaching goals requires a clear definition of what you want.

Takes a bit more than that, Claudia thinks, as she stares through the glass to see Nick wildly gesturing as his enthusiasm increases. A sea of blank and bored faces is staring back toward him, a few staring out of the room and back at her, but he's either oblivious or undeterred. If it's the latter then she's impressed, though she gets the overall impression Nick is only clear on what he knows and not what he wants. Takes two to tango and it isn't going to go anywhere fast if he doesn't know where they're ideally heading.

~

She doesn't even read the next set of S, T or U – she tacks the first two together offset just enough for the capital letters to be the prominent feature, as she cradles her phone handset in the crook of her neck and flips through the portfolio in front of her. For the 4th time today she's put on hold as a secretary goes away to fabricate some bullshit explanation for why their boss isn't taking her call. So much for damage control, this time the story is much too juicy for the media. She waves the sticky backed sheet for U on her free hand's index finger as she listens to the crappy musak and wishes she hadn't already disposed of F, then at least she could spell out what she would never voice.

~

Vision is admirable. Plans are commendable.

Claudia has read the plans. There are plans for alien invasions, nuclear holocaust, fascist rule and a dozen other end of civilisation as we know it scenarios. There was never any plan that mentioned rips in time and space, and in retrospect that's a very large oversight given the Home Office was prepared for almost anything else.

In the absence of a plan Lester was tasked for the creation of one. It got off-loaded onto the first unfortunate to piss him off, who passed it on to several others in the office for an opinion on how to and somehow it's now a department collaborative document. They add lines to the wiki daily.

It reads less like a formal plan with procedures of what to do and more like a day to day survival guide, and she thinks maybe this is what they need more anyway.

~

We all have a choice to be a person who watches things happen, who wonders what happened or who made things happen.

There was no doubt the first two applied to most people she knew. She counted herself under the last, and disturbingly Helen too. Sometimes she wondered if she would have liked Helen had she met her under difference circumstances.

She couldn't tell why the woman had saved her life. Instinct said it was one-upmanship, that or simply mind games, playing with her, playing with Nick. But she couldn't discount the idea that Helen wasn't as bad as she appeared, that whatever she'd been through had only changed her so much.

They all talked her up as the Home Office's most wanted or at least the frustratingly mysterious, the pain in their arses, but there had to have been a reason Nick had loved her, why he defended her to a degree still. There had to be more to Helen Cutter, but it would likely be more than Claudia would ever know.

~

X was a cop-out.

All the X's were Ex's instead. Extremely, excellent, exciting. Everything pointed to the conceptual failure. Surely they should have checked there were at least a few phrases to use before they coined the idea?

It was stupid, it was being pedantic, but it was something to concentrate on on a bad day. It was better than staring at the bright birthday card that had been sent round the office, bursting with well wishes, and wondering why Nick hadn't signed it or why he couldn't answer the one question he'd let slip through.

“Do you still love her?”

She expected Helen Cutter to play games with people, but she was starting to wonder if it was a trait the Cutter's shared in common, however differently they did so.

~

Yes is empowering! Why simply say no, when you can be positive and proactive by saying yes to what it is you do want.

She'd told him not to go through the anomaly and no hadn't worked. No had seemed the right choice, but perhaps she was forgetting that Nick didn't like being told no, didn't like restrictions and in the face of scientific discovery a bad feeling wouldn't slow him down.

So, she decided to say yes. She wanted to say “Yes, I care about you. Yes, I love you. Yes, I want to try and make it work.” Yes to overcome it all and make everything right, and when she couldn't say any of it she settled for a full on kiss. Somehow that seemed to say pretty much the same thing. At the very least there were still lips involved...

It was a reason to stay.

It wasn't reason enough though, not for him and she watches him walk away.

~

Nick gambled and lost. Now all the potential was on hold, all the moments like a hazy dream instead of defined memories. Claudia never got round to reading Z but she wouldn't have liked the irony.

Primeval Fanmix: Let's Make History (Nick/Helen) EP

2009-03-15T14:17:30Z

Let's Make History - A Nick Cutter/Helen Cutter Fanmix

Fanmix for the relationship, from the very (pre-series) start, following the little backstory we have, and throughout Seasons 1 and 2, with an angsty overview as the conclusion.

The mix also includes either Stephen unrequited POV on Nick/Helen or Helen POV on Nick/Stephen - however you like to take song number 5. :)

01. The Divine Comedy - In Pursuit Of Happiness
Hey, I'm not the type
To say one thing and do another
And if it's all right I'd kind
Of like to be your lover

And hey, I'm not the kind
To fall in love without good reason
And if that's a crime
Then baby I'm committing high treason

02. Snow Patrol - It's Beginning To Get To Me
And it's beginning to get to me
That I know more of the stars and sea
Than I do of what's in your head
Barely touching in our cold bed

03. The Coral - Come Home
Come home you've been gone too long
I hear you walking like a tired dog
All alone in the wild untamed
A fading face in the picture frame

04. Space - No-One Understands
If I wanted to kill, or assassinate, The Queen
They would only lock me up and throw away the key
Then you'd never get out
Then you'd never get in
No-one understands me
No-one understands

05. Beulah - Popular Mechanics For Lovers
I know he knocks you off your feet
You’re so bitter; you think he’s sweet
Well he’s wrong for you, I swear

Did you forget to read the script?
There was never a role for him
It was always you and me, just me

06. In Pieces - Linkin Park
Your lips say that you love
Your eyes say that you hate

There's truth in your lies
Doubt in your faith
What you build you lay to waste

This truth in your lies
Doubt in your faith
All I've got's what you didn't take

07. Garbage - #1 Crush (Nellee Hooper remix)
I will sell my soul for something pure and true
Someone like you

See your face every place that I walk in
Hear your voice every time I am talking
You will believe in me
And I will never be ignored

I will burn for you
Feel pain for you
I will twist the knife and bleed my aching heart
And tear it apart

I will lie for you
Beg and steal for you
I will crawl on hands and knees until you see
You're just like me

Download ZIP at Megaupload or yousendit

Download RAR at Megaupload or yousendit

The file is 30.5Mb and contains mp3's, plus the two cover art images.

Please comment if snagging, feedback is love. :)

Multifandom graphics post - 105 icons - Primeval, Sanctuary & Merlin

2009-03-14T23:33:03Z

45 - Primeval (Connor, Abby, Connor/Abby, Jenny/Nick, Claudia, S3 cast, Claudia/Lester, Lester/Lyle, Lester, Stephen, Helen, Jenny, creature, actors icons from behind the scenes & interviews)
46 - Sanctuary (Henry, Ashely, Helen, Druitt, Tesla, Will, Henry/Ashley)
14 - Merlin (Nimueh, Gwen, Morgana, Arthur, Uther)

-Rules-
*Comment if taking
*Please credit missyvortexdv/Purpleyin in userpic info
*No hotlinking (upload to your own image hosting to use)

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Texture Packs - Ankarsvik, Restrained #1 and Walled #1-4

2009-03-08T16:16:21Z

My first go at making texture packs, all based off photos I've taken; no idea if that's how people usually go about making these. I'm doubtful that my textures are quite up to scratch since they're my practice batches as it were, but I thought they might still be useful for icon making even so and if anyone has any pointers for when I have another go then I'd love to hear them.

-Rules-
*Comment if taking
*Credit missyvortexdv/Purpleyin on post for graphics used in or a resources page
*Feedback, positive or critical, is appreciated

download@DA

download@DA

download@DA

download@DA

download@DA

download@DA

compliment meme

2009-03-02T19:31:18Z

One little compliment can make you feel great. So give me a compliment, anything in the entire world, even that my shoelaces are pretty. Put this in your journal. Once you get some comments, put that entry in a memory or tag and when you are feeling down, just go to that entry and this will remind you how great you are.

Comments are screened.

Primeval Fic: A Day in the Life (Insufferable Fools Remix) 1/1 MA Lester/Lyle

2009-03-02T19:24:18Z

Title: A Day in the Life (Insufferable Fools Remix)
Author: Purpleyin
Rating: MA

Summary: James Lester is having a particularly bad day. Roughly Christmas set fic with Lester/Lyle.
Spoilers: S2 generally

A\N: For the Primeval remix challenge, based on “A Day in the Life” by lsellersfic. Betaread by fififolle.

~

The phone rang, a harsh brill-brill sound in the distance. He rolled over and blinked blearily, slowly focusing on the numbers projected onto the wall – 06:53. It had damn well not be anything short of the apocalypse, he thought as he shuffled out of bed.

~

James didn't like early starts, but he was as ever – after years of dealing with mounting crises for a multitude of fools - used to being woken abruptly by his pager. He sometimes felt a twinge of sympathy for Lorraine who composed the messages, who must herself largely be woken up before it's humane to be conscious. He was even less amused when he found the following “report” on his desk.

On the 23rd December 2008 an anomaly opened near the village of Crathie in Aberdeenshire. Two Triceratops came through. We sent them back. Nicholas Cutter (Professor)

On his desk, on Christmas Eve. Nothing short of a scathing reply would do and unfortunately the whole thing put him in the worst mood. It was the least pleasant start to his day. Goodwill to all men didn't start before 9am and at this rate might not materialise at all, except possibly some time later once he'd gotten over the threshold of his flat and downed his fair share of the customary cherry brandy. The kids used to leave it out for him – well, for Santa – until they'd become disillusioned by the concept and had cottoned on to the fact that mummy and daddy were where the real influence for presents lay.

He stared at the mound of paperwork and sighed. The phone rang, interrupting his read through of the rather more thorough report Temple had done on the archaeopteryx that had appeared in Ireland just last week – the boy practically gushed over the creature and no doubt he would be in for an equally detailed report on today's incident, though apparently it couldn't come too soon, according to the tastes of No. 10 et al.

"No sir, I've only received a brief report so far. I'm waiting for a longer one."

Of course, the negligence of lower downs was never deemed a viable excuse for lack of information. He often wondered if these people actually expected him to be knee deep in the trenches of prehistoric shit.

"No sir, the castle wasn't mentioned in the report I received."

Apparently that translated into “blah blah blah, I'm trying to fob you off” resulting in ever more severe demands for more detail, and really there were only about 3 verified details he had to defend himself with.

"Triceratops I believe, sir."

For someone aware of portals through time and space that frequently spouted out prehistoric creatures he was somewhat annoyed at the Minister's ignorance. The man might have well blurted out “Tricerwhats?” and it would have at least saved them both a substantial amount of time taken up by incoherent ranting. There were few pertinent pieces of information but if he'd known this fact he could have cut to the chase on the explanation.

"They are large animals, sir, and armoured I understand. I'm sure my men did their best."

Best was never good enough though, not for men who thought best was stopping bad things happening, but he'd bloody well like to see them try and preempt such a thing as unpredictable cracks in the universe or whatever they'd like to classify these as. The physicists were stumped – by reason of lack of agreement on their diverging theories – and the only way MP's could triumph if they dared would be by sheer force of will and insistence that they knew best, in the face of all evidence to the contrary. Thankfully they weren't required to know at this juncture, given it was a secret, but it seemed they expected both the same of him and somehow much more, like say, competency. Consequently they were forever disappointed because neither expectation could be fulfilled whilst maintaining the other.

"No sir. I do understand how serious the situation was. I'll speak to Lieutenant Lyle."

Count to 5.

“And the Professor.”

Bugger that, make it 10 instead.

Counting to 5 was for fools and gave him just enough time to sensibly come up with an acerbic reply. Count to 10 was reserved for morons and people who thought they knew better than him, who he either liked to ignore and shuffle off at the earliest possible interval or if they were persistent they got an upgrade to blithering idiots and an appropriate dressing down.

Unfortunately the majority of the people who fell into the latter category were all too often too high up to reap the consequences of their idiotic blathering – the gits got immunity due to their positions, hence the default position here was simply count to 10 and suck it up until they're satisfied enough to hang up.

"Yes sir. I'll have an apology ready by midday."

Count to 10 - slowly.

"Thank you, sir. Your forbearance is appreciated."

Then came the requisite pause to see if he was dismissed from this farce of a conversation.

“Goodbye sir.”

Thank God he had Jenny to spin these things. One phone call with the nitwit in charge of Royal affairs was enough carefully constructed sucking up for one day, let alone this morning. He'd never have managed the vultures on top of that, at least not if the goal was to deflect them and he simply wasn't in the right state of mind to apologise for an event completely out of his control. As many people above him liked to remind him, he wasn't God, so it would be nice if they'd kindly stop assuming he had any way to prevent this type of incident.

At least Jenny was a friendly face to put on the apology, a poor humble civil servant doing her job. They nearly always fell for it since the woman managed to ooze her own brand of manipulative sincerity with a strange ease. He supposed it was like fighting fire with fire, or napalm with fire in any case. No doubt had she put her mind to it she could have been a world class investigative journalist instead of PR guru and they were simply fortunate to have her onside in this universe.

~

It wasn't lunchtime when the phone rang again. It was the palace, Buckingham Palace, checking up on him. Already promised an apology, but no, it wasn't enough, it wasn't fast enough. Well, if they did insist on censoring all incoming communications for security reasons then what did they expect? He wasn't a miracle worker.

"Yes, I have spoken to the Prime Minister's office. I was just writing an apology now. It should be with Her Majesty in under an hour."

The truth, a white lie, potentially true – probably just the right mix to be conceivable and sound right. Maybe he'd manage to get out of this call within a minute. If so it would be a personal best and a small miracle.

"Yes, I am aware she is in residence at Balmoral during the Christmas period."

It wasn't like he hadn't been reminded ten times this morning... Did they think his mind was like a sieve? It wasn't like he had any reason to be a few marbles short, if you didn't count anomaly travel on the odd, and purely accidental, occasion.

"Yes, the PM did give me to understand there was some damage to the walls. We will of course provide the funds necessary to cover the repairs."

There goes the recreational budget – he hated telling people they had to go military-class flights and buy their own drinks. They'd never cotton on to the fact he hated it of course, he was more professional than that, snark could divert the blame but it didn't make him less the villain in their eyes. No one – well...most people – wouldn't want to blame the Queen, after all. For the soldiers it might seem impolite in the face of their oath, as much as they liked to refer to her as Lizzie.

"Yes, and the cost of the extra security needed in the interim."

And there went the Pass It On budget. Spencer, the Head of Maintenance, would no doubt be glaring at him for months because of that concession. It wasn't desirable to upset a enthusiastic man on a mission - to teach cooking as it turned out to be here - but he didn't have much choice. Good nutrition, and the supposedly healthier, happier, workers that came with it, would have to wait a year.

At the next reply he nearly choked. It was years of stoical repression that meant he managed to swallow down the cough and calmly construct an neutral answer.

"No, I was not aware that the Professor had encountered Her Majesty."

Of all the things to go wrong. If that wasn't noteworthy he didn't know what was. Lester certainly had a mind to have words with the Professor when he got back, until he heard just what it was that probably explained the omission in the report.

"I quite agree that was an unforgivable remark."

Words did not seem enough, not his words anyhow. A quick wit wasn't what had elevated him in his chosen career, but the quick mind that went with that talent probably had a good deal to do with it. He knew his words barely, if ever, got through to Cutter, and so his actions would have to speak for themselves.

"Do not worry. Her Majesty will receive a personal apology from the Professor. I will see to it myself."

He listened to the click as the person on the other end hung up and pressed the button for the intercom.

What he wanted to say was:

“Lorraine, I'd like you to suspend all field use ARC credit cards, with the exception of mine. Also I'll be needing transport to Balmoral as soon as possible.”

He had visions of Cutter getting himself arrested for suspected credit card fraud and being snooty at a poor unsuspecting petrol station attendant trying to take the card off him. Then cue his arrival on scene and a well-timed chat to blackmail Cutter into apologising to the Queen.

And in this theoretically all's well that ends well scenario, they'd all be up there in appalling weather, except for on the other side of the anomaly. Connor would usefully point out there was another anomaly on the other side of the valley that was 48 hours ahead in the other time period enabling a net gain of 2 days in what appears a split second, meaning time to take a quick jaunt through the ideally mostly completely harmless – if you don't count rogue Triceratops - anomaly with Lyle since he could make it back in time for Christmas day with his kids. After all the recreational budget was gone now.

No one could discount that Lester had an intriguing imagination, though anyone would be lucky to have any awareness of its existence. What he actually did was this:

“Lorraine, I'd like you to get me a sandwich pronto, and can you bring me in any more paperwork requiring my attention. In festive spirit I would say please, except we both know I don't want to do more paperwork and would be quite happy if you happened to misplace the files for say another day or two until after Christmas, unless there's anything requiring my immediate attention.”

“There isn't? How nice to hear that for a change. Thank you, that's all Lorraine.”

No sooner had he placed the handset down, with the beginnings of a smile on his face, than his computer made a melodic sound to inform him there was an electronic report requiring his attention. Sadly he hadn't yet figured out how to make those disappear without leaving a log that would give him away.

The title read “Report on Animal Welfare Issues at the ARC” and he hated to think how much of the budget the issues inside would eat up, because it wasn't like any of the experts would include “welfare issues” in an 'everything is sunshine and smiles' type of report. Come to think of it, the only reports he ever got that were potentially positive were from R&D and even those were still asking for money, more money than reasonable in most cases.

~

He chewed on the abysmal excuse for a cheese sandwich that was his only food option and read over a report for the fifth time, unable to concentrate due to hunger pangs. It probably was made of plastic given all the nourishment it seemed to have given him so far – he'd been trying to get through it bit by bit for about an hour in total, resisting the urge to regurgitate what vitriolic pieces he'd already managed to swallow down. At this rate actual plastic seemed more appealing.

Fumbling with the change in his wallet he realised he had about 60p, and glancing over his desk there was a gleaming £2 coin sitting to one side of the monitor. However hideous the economic climate was, inflation couldn't made a Snickers bar more expensive than that could it? He estimated he could get at best three items, making for an unhealthy but satisfying alternative lunch.

There was only one way to find out what he could wangle for the loose change. He strolled past Lorraine's office, down the ramp, venturing further out of his zone than he had so far today. There was an increased likelihood he'd meet another human being and then they'd both be having a worse day, but the thought of the unbridled energy he'd get from all that sugar – more than enough to get him through the remaining workday - was more than enough to risk it.

If only he'd thought about the other risks of his outing he might have also thought to hide the bar in his pocket when he came back. Minutes after he'd finished his afternoon delight he answered his personal phone to a high pitched rant from his wife about how he was pickling his insides with junk food. Since he had to suffer this, Lorraine would be getting an equal talking to too – a friendly reminder he was her boss and only what he said was good for him was what goes.

One phone call ended and yet again he was reaching for the intercom.

"Lorraine, I know my wife has told you to watch my diet but if you report that I'm helping myself from the vending machine, so help me, I'll see you fired."

That said, he'd had enough of junk food anyway considering the earful he'd got about how they made everything in it which had put him off somewhat – who to offload it on? Anyone but Lorraine obviously. Handily, as he pondered the rest of the work on his desk, Jenny walked in.

About 30 seconds later she walked out with a Galaxy chocolate bar and he grinned at the blissful news she had delivered that meant he at least had one less crisis to contend with today. Crisis #1 over.

~

Minor-crisis #17. A letter about an incident from a month ago, long enough ago to have lulled him into a false sense of security that anything from that month was all done and dusted, but no, National Grid wants to investigate and/or sue the ARC.

"Lorraine, can you send the Electricity company a brief note informing them that they have no right of entry and reminding them of our status as a government research facility conducting work of relevance to national security. Then get the lawyers onto our contract with them and make sure we're bullet proof when it comes to power cuts. Oh, and while you're about it ask the lawyers if it's possible to sue for egregiously long-winded letter writing and incorrect use of apostrophes."

There was never a day that didn't provide more fodder to the lawyers, they might as well hire a whole firm permanently at this rate, except that invariably they needed bizarre specialists that did not flock together. He was grateful Jenny and her underlings dealt with OSA initiations these days..

Next task for R&D had better be the best surge protection system ever invented, and unless Connor had a decent explanation for the incident, then he knew exactly whose department would be funding that task – and both departments would undoubtedly despise him for it, bad news in time for ruined Christmas cheer. James had noticed they'd only just started being civil when he went to their meetings. He'd been trying not to get used to it and this would be why.

The ADD alarm went off and so did his chance to grill Cutter today, slipping away through his fingers and ensuring he'd be spending more time on the phone this coming evening trying to ascertain what other disastrous plans were being concocted in the absence of common sense.

~

He stared at the letter in front of him, wondering how the situation had escalated so quickly from the report on it he'd got this morning.

Dear Sir

I have received a complaint which states that your facility houses a number of vertebrate animals in poor conditions. I can find no evidence that your department has ever been granted a Licence to use Animals in Scientific Procedures, nor any information detailing the scientific work being undertaken at your establishment. I am hoping that there has been some mistake here and that the whole situation can be resolved without difficulty. I would be grateful if you could get back to me without delay so the situation may be resolved. I feel bound to inform you that we take such complaints very seriously and are almost bound to consider a welfare inspection a priority.
Alan Richards
Inspector
RSPCA

He foresaw potentially a very big “donation” to the RSPCA in his future if this could not be smoothed over efficiently and he reached for the intercom for the 100th time this day.

They might as well set up a complaints@arc.gsi.gov.uk email and pigeonhole to filter these vaguely distressing and/or annoyingly long-winded bureaucratically laden communiques to, and then possibly he could delegate the lesser issues to someone else, if he could find someone with enough time to deal with the influx, and enough sense to hand over the big things back to him. There was no way he could completely shirk the duty after all, it was a law of the universe that things could crop up to be a pain in his ass.

~

"Aah! Lyle! I trust everything is going smoothly. At least on Salisbury Plain we can pretend it's all a military exercise."

He'd thought this conversation would be the only one he'd care for, no matter that it was all work and no hint of play.

"Why exactly do you need the services of the Air Force?"

He wished he hadn't asked. All sense, never mind common sense, had been flung out the window. Did the anomalies suck that through along with anything magnetic? If he still remembered this gripe by next April 1st he would be tempted to commission a study on it.

"I'm sorry Lyle, but no. You can not bomb Stonehenge. It's a World Heritage Site for crying out loud. I can't believe Cutter would agree to it."

Not unless Cutter had one rule for saving prehistoric animals and another for everything else, a cut off point for caring. Sorry, I don't give a shit about a World Heritage Site – it's in my own time, doesn't disturb reality or string theory so bombs away...

"Ah! I thought not."

There was a smidgeon of respect for Cutter standing up against the horrendous idea of Lyle and co, which promptly died when he heard of Cutter's other reaction.

"He did what?"

Then Lyle told him something that really shook him to the core, as it did every time. As bad as his day could be, this heralded a worse one for someone somewhere. When he spoke, his voice was drained of all its usual acid.

“I'm sorry about your man but the answer is still, `No'. Get Cutter out of there and ship him back to me, by force if necessary. Then get rid of the creature and make your way home."

He was starting to think they needed to chip Cutter and have a babysitter tracking his GPS position relative to the ADD data to stop the bloody man going through unstable windows in time. Or maybe it was simply the two - Cutter and anomalies - went together so well and so often because each was unstable and caused a strange attraction. It could have been the other Cutter's influence, but James preferred to give up analysing the whole thing – it was nearing 7pm on Christmas Eve and there was no sign of dinner or brandy in sight.

Lorraine was sensibly at home as he'd told her to go some time ago and so it was takeaway time. Lorraine and most of the rest of the employees handily weren't about to see the spectacle, and he'd master eating with chopsticks if it killed him. At this rate it was as likely as a heart attack from opening an email/letter, or being eaten alive, anyway.

~

The boxes of Chinese sat to one side of his desk, uneaten, as he stared at the default letter on screen.

Dear Mrs Werth
It is with deepest regret that I write to inform you of the death of your husband, Private Mark Werth....

The letter went on to say everything that could be said, that was allowed. It was concise and said everything required of it, but it didn't feel enough. Usually Lorraine did this and he simply gave it the once over and signed it with regret.

But this time he was the person to write it, to fill in the details that made it seem a meagre and pitiful response to the tragedy – he read it over and over again, checking spelling . One click to hit print and he picked up the pen, one firm twist to enable it and then with a swoosh of his signature it was complete and it felt a little like signing a death warrant this time, even though the man was hours dead already.

~

Two hours later, he sat across from Cutter in the main meeting room, feet on the desk, eating reheated Chinese food badly with chopsticks. It didn't matter how much the Professor sniggered at him, neither of them were leaving here until the apology to the Queen was adequately written. He'd already vetoed two attempts.

“Your Highness, I'm very sorry for calling you a trumped up celebrity and I hope you have a nice Christmas,” did not cut it and was lying screwed up in the corner of the room, a metre away from the bin, since Cutter had such terrible aim. That failing, on top of the other bloody awful apologies so far, had resulted in a slightly hysterical laugh escaping James' lips, that he blamed entirely on sleep-deprivation.

He suspected the explanation of the 'acting as live bait' “plan” would have to wait for another day. If he wanted to be predictably cruel and vindictive, as it probably would be viewed, about this waste of his time and what the tragic events of today had put him through, he'd use regulations to require another psych eval on the man. Whatever the excuse, it was probably a good idea anyway considering that all of those out in the fields routinely watched men and women get ripped to pieces, as had happened once again tonight. Suddenly the Chinese lost it's appeal once again, too.

~

It was 9pm on Christmas Eve and he'd only returned to his office to collect his belongings before going home, and instead he'd found his bright money-saving idea to hire a one Dr. Butterworth, workaholic, had backfired.

There sat a hefty folder filled with photos and diagrams picturing aschew chairs, ever so slightly blocked fire exits and all manner of chaos that naturally the man hadn't felt could wait until the new year and had to report in great detail. He could just about stomach reading the covering note and ignored the no doubt lovingly written 5 page summary of the standards required. He couldn't legally ignore Health and Safety infractions, but a quick email to annoying everyone equally about this would hopefully suffice for the time being.

~

It was 10pm and he didn't know exactly why he was still at work. The quick email had, due to network problems, not been so quick, and then he had become distracted, sleepy and not sure if he could manage the drive home. Time had passed somehow and he'd snuck off to get a coffee and snack to bolster his strength – he never had gotten much dinner or lunch.

Cornering close to his office he was greeted by an unexpected bare bum facing him.

"Lyle! When I said, 12 hours ago, that I wanted to see you in my office straight away I was expecting you to be wearing clothes at the time."

Lyle turned round, a grin forming as he glanced over James' visage. James imagined he looked disheveled after such a long day, something Jon, who must've had an equally trying day, escaped mainly by the lack clothes and the fact he always looked ruggedly handsome.

"Well stop standing there looking decorative. Come over here and show me quite how sorry you are."

And James continued to stand in the doorway as Lyle approached slowly, calculatingly blocking anyone's view should Butterworth, for example, decide to press the H&S issue. As Jon unzipped James' trousers and pulled his boxers flap to one side James imagined there'd be a fair few unwritten H&S regulations they were about to break that might be beneficial in more ways than one. He almost wished Butterworth would come in, the man would probably stammer and quit on the spot and that would fulfill Jon's longstanding wish for having someone watch them.

Then Jon's lips pressed around his hardening cock, sucking a small amount before he withdrew to kiss and lick around everywhere but where James wanted attention most. His lips returned again, sucking harder, Jon taking more of James' length into his mouth with each motion up and down, before he withdrew a second time.

"God Lyle! No! Don't stop!"

Jon looked up at him with a lopsided cheeky grin before he leaned down again and flicked his tongue over the head a couple of times. He was being such a prickteaser exactly because he knew it was how to wind James up quickest – this was not a night to take it long and slow. The day needed to be over. There was a lot to not quite forget but to get over best they could or lock it away so that tomorrow when they woke up it would be Christmas. It would be a different day, a special day, full of cheer, far too much food and arguments over what to watch on TV. Not really different when all was said and done, yet they would be different and if they were lucky they wouldn't get a call to rush off to their potential deaths.

"A Happy Christmas to you too," James said sincerely as Jon kept going, having mercifully abandoned the teasing finally.

The giving and receiving may have started a little early for them though, he thought as the tension melted away in the afterglow of orgasm, but the timing was just right in his book. Screw tradition, screw the one special day crap. He pulled Jon up for a desperate passionate kiss and then all but crushed him in a tight hug.

“Happy Christmas, Jon.”

And what he really wanted to say was, thank God you're still alive tonight.

Primeval Fic:Let It Be (1/1 K+ Helen/Nick, Abby/Connor, Jenny + Nick)

2009-02-18T21:04:34Z

Title: Let It Be
Author: Purpleyin
Rating: K+
Spoilers: All of S1 and S2.

Summary: Summary: Three promises - kept, broken and made. Ficlet from the POV of Helen, Abby and Jenny.

A/N: Written for the ARC Promises & Resolutions challenge. Betaread by fififolle.

~

No one likes breaking a promise, because it's breaking trust, letting someone else down. There they will be in front of you afterwards, when they realise you weren't there for them. They might be accusatory, disappointed and maybe even heart-broken. Sometimes it's the fact they don't come back that makes it hurt.

The promises you make yourself can hurt as much, possibly more so. They hurt deep down, because they can stick in your mind, every waking moment a reminder that may or may not fade. There are the lingering thoughts of that temptation you can't stave off, the person you can't stay away from, the person you meant to stay for.

And even when you can keep the promises it can still hurt to, more than the words you want to say and the reasons you have for doing so. A promise is a promise, but it's no less difficult when there's a person you know you have to walk away from. It doesn't matter if they never know, because you know, right there and then what it costs, a personal sacrfice that won't ever be heralded.

~

Going through the anomaly, Helen hadn't thought about it twice beforehand, but she'd thought a lot about it after the fact. Eight long years of contemplation wherein she found excuses, rationalisations for just up and leaving. She'd gone over plenty of reasons in her head why it had been a good thing to do, compiling a list of everything she'd gained and experienced because of it. She'd sometimes tried to compose apology speeches for Nick, though time after time they drifted into rationales instead of anything heartfelt or regretful.

To be truthful she'd never been good at expressing her emotions, she did better at facts than feelings and definitely out of all of that spectrum it was passions, lust, intensity of a kind that bothered her the least to show. Anything less was vague, unquantifiable, hard to discern and pin down.

She'd missed Nick in waves, the sensation coming and going depending on apparent nostalgia triggers and how long it had been since she'd seen anyone remotely familiar. However, in amongst the wonders of what she saw, any sadness was muted, lesser than the obvious passion that had led her here.

Over time it seemed like she lost what it was that made her feel guilty for abandoning him, leaving simply the facts because facts were easier to hold onto than fading feelings and memories she didn't trust as a true representation. Nick was her husband; they had made the promise until death do us part and she wasn't dead yet.

~

Abby never made any promises to Connor, except the one borne out of pity where she said she'd said she'd help him learn to chat up girls, which he hadn't held her to past that first mixed success of a session.

She never promised he could stay, or that she'd cook for him sometimes and make him a cuppa when they got home. Thinking about it, she did a lot of things for Connor she'd never promised to, wasn't obliged to and that he didn't ask for either, things that crept into her everyday repertoire and stuck, much like he had in her life in general.

There were no promises to Connor, only ones she made about him. Resolutions really, made in her head instead of written down; not to get too comfortable with having someone around, not to get too involved in his life, not to care what he was doing on a Friday night. Maybe it would have been better to write them down so she remembered or more effective to speak them out loud from the start, to let him know her intentions. Of course back at the start of all this she had thought she'd made herself clear, to him at least. The problem was she'd forgotten to make sure she knew where she stood just as well as he did, over time she obviously slipped down that slope into friendship and then a bit further just because.

She never promised that she'd hold him when the nightmares were too much for him, but she does. Hands held tight around his torso, pressing his back against her body, almost as desperate for contact as he is. In that moment it's not for the same reason, yet it's good enough for her in the middle of another lonely dawn. He clings to her as he tries to summon some measure of control, no doubt wishing for the ignorance of his usual sleep to give him back sanity again.

He clings to her and she almost wants to smile. If it were not for the grief-stricken sobs that accompany this she might be able to delude herself that it means more than it is. But Connor doesn't drops hints any more, he doesn't fight for her, except physically and that he will put down to the fact she's his friend, part of his team, like family. It's like he's given in to her unspoken resolution even though she can't keep it these days. How's that for bad timing, she thinks.

~

From the minute she had heard about Claudia she'd wanted to wipe the knowledge from her memory, Jenny didn't like knowing about the other woman, the other her, and so she'd resolved to think about it as little as possible, which had not been helped by Nick's behaviour back then. Now that that was finally easier to achieve, she found her thoughts drifting to the subject anyway.

She had always gotten the impression Nick would never give up the search for the enigmatic “Claudia” - it had after all taken months before he stopped calling her by that name accidentally. That was why she'd been surprised to see Nick tear up that unnerving photo of him and Claudia at the funeral. It seemed an admission of defeat in the face of tragedy, that he couldn't take the disappointment any more.

At first Jenny had been relieved to see him let go, accepting this as reality. She'd had hope he could move on eventually and find peace, happiness or whatever it was grumpy Scotsmen were naturally like, only...he didn't get any better. The wounds of Stephen's death eventually healed as much as she expected they ever would, but she felt like looking into Nick's eyes lacked something, permanently dulled by everything he'd been through. Letting go hadn't been enough and as she watched him lose what little spark he had left she realised it had been the worst choice he'd ever made – exactly the opposite of what he'd needed.

Nick hadn't been able to do what was necessary, he'd lost the stomach for it along with his best friend but Jenny finally could. She resolved to break her old promise to herself, as defunct and getting in the way. She had a new resolution – fix reality. Fix reality and most likely die/disappear in the process. It wasn't a good plan and it had a lot of holes, plus areas where she needed Connor's expertise, but it was the right thing to do and no one else had the guts to. Whatever, whoever she was, Jenny wasn't a coward and she was damn efficient at whatever she set her mind to.

Merlin icons: 28 Gwen, Morgana, Morgana/Gwen + Katie McGrath

2009-02-03T23:12:57Z

28 icons of Merlin's Gwen, Morgana, Morgana/Gwen and the actress Katie McGrath. More here as all would not fit in one post.

-Rules-
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*Please credit missyvortexdv/Purpleyin in userpic info
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