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gcdeater · 10 months

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𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒃𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒆. 𝒊 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒊𝒕.

woo do-hwan . cis man . he/him ➶ I RECOGNISE THAT FACE ! that’s OBERON WHIMSIWICK , the THIRTY-THREE year old plastic surgeon from THE CAPITOL . they’ve been in the capitol around THEIR ENTIRE LIFE , long enough to gain a reputation for being so PRAGMATIC & SELF-SERVING . they’re so lucky getting to live in the tribute center for the duration of the games! ( character ISN’T part of the uprising )

STATS

name: oberon whimsiwick birthday: sagittarius sun, aries moon, libra rising zodiac: gender: cis-man pronouns: he/him orientation: bisexual biromantic occupation: plastic surgeon district: capitol family: andromeda whimsiwick (mother), leonardo whimsiwick (father), hero whimsiwick (younger sister), cordelia whimsiwick (younger sister), mariana whimsiwick (younger sister) faceclaim: woo do hwan

PERSONALITY

positive traits: charismatic, persuasive, pragmatic, generous, curious, vivacious, romantic negative traits: self-serving, fickle, disconcerting, conceited, spoiled, corruptive moral alignment: neutral evil mbti: estp-a (the entrepreneur) enneagram: 8w7 (the nonconformist) temperament: sanguine-choleric deadly sin: gluttony heavenly virtue: diligence parallels: frank abagnale (catch me if you can), lily (black swan), damon salvatore (the vampire diaries), ferris bueller (ferris bueller’s day off)

BACKGROUND

you are born, and you are perfect. the firstborn heir to andromeda and leonardo whimsiwick– the precious princeling to a budding empire. the whimsiwicks are overwhelmingly new money. andromeda’s parents founded the company whimsiwick body modifications & plastic surgery corporation shortly before she’s born. when leonardo, a surgeon andromeda falls in love with during her residency, is brought into the picture, her parents have only one request of him– drop your name and become one of ours.

and so, your birth becomes symbolic. the next generation of whimsiwicks to usher the family into further prosperity. you are doted upon as a child– spoiled rotten at every moment, your every desire fulfilled, and with few repercussions for your wrongdoings. when your sister is born, there is someone else for you to bother. she grows to despise you for your antics and your desire to break your parents' rules.

eventually, another sister arrives, followed by another sister. by this time, you’re eight and see less and less of your parents. you are passed off to nannies once you’re old enough, as are your sisters. school interested you little; you found it far too easy for your liking. you excel in advanced interests, but even this isn’t enough to keep you occupied.

you cycle through various extracurriculars– dance, art, theater, music, volleyball, photography, writing, designing, and more over the years, but none can fully capture your attention. you spend your teen years searching for something that genuinely interests you– that thing that would ignite your heart and soul.

amidst all of this, something darker lurks within you. beneath your charismatic demeanor is someone prone to bouts of cruelty. those moments when nothing seems to exist outside of yourself. and truthfully, those are the moments you feel most alive.

you begin attending parties in the capitol. you take to the varying crowds quickly. you are dynamic, moving through various circles, beloved wherever you go– accumulating friends, lovers, and everything in between. you eventually begin throwing parties of your own– parties that quickly become the talk of the town.

it’s not until your parents direct an ultimatum your way that you begin cleaning up your act. finish medical school, or your trust fund is cut off. it’s a peculiar offer, but you know why they ask that of you– to maintain your familial image and all.

and so, you spend the majority of your time in school, and the remaining time chasing your every hedonistic desire. med-school comes easier to you than most– you’d already been a natural at school, and being supported by wealthy parents certainly takes off some of the pressure.

you graduate from medical school, land your top choice residency hospital (a hefty donation from your family proves to be an excellent motivator), and complete your six years of residency. nowadays, you're meant to shadow your parents and learn the inner workings of the company for when the time eventually arrives for you to take over.

you do your best to avoid such subjects. in all honesty, you’ve never had any interest in taking over the company or much interest in the realm of surgery and body modification in general. still, you continue to make your family believe you're the golden boy while stalling all else related to your takeover.

FUN FACTS

with him not only being a partier and also someone who made it through a medical residency– oberon’s schedule tends to be as unpredictable as he is. sometimes he needs little to no sleep– other times he spends the entire day rejuvenating.

oberon’s parties are well known across the capitol. they’re invite-only, with special drinks and substances explicitly provided for the occasion of his parties. he is the center of them all, a modern dionysus– constantly surrounded by his pleasure disciples.

oberon has three younger siblings: hero, cordelia, and mariana. he thinks hero is uptight, cordelia is cool (and perhaps too cool for her own good at times), and mariana cares about things too much. overall, he generally finds them tolerable– except when hero pesters him.

oberon is non-commital when it comes to anything outside of his pursuits. he’s a notoriously fickle lover, but known to show someone a good time with the time they do spend together.

oberon has a way of making people feel like they’re the only other person in the room with him. the way he sweeps up others in his fantasies, its easy to become intoxicated with such.

still, there is something that isn’t quite right with him… in the way light never quite catches his eye.

PLOT HOOKS

current and past lovers / jilted lovers / a partner in hedonism / people he met in the medical field / people that suspect something isn’t quite right with him / employees at his family’s corporation / enemies / people he grew bored of / that one person he obsesses over b/c they got away / siblings!!! (blurb about them here)

#intro / oberon

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self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 2 years

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Finding Significance in Simple Things | Jancy

Prompt: Future AU/Post-Canon

Words: 2364

Fandom: Stranger Things

A/N: A spin-off set a year after the [Somebody to Love] series. Could be read as a stand-alone, since they’re mostly background in that series. Tentative -verse name is “We Will Always Have Hawkins” or WWAHH-verse lol I think it just sounds neat and I got it from one the series' future chapters. Mentions Steddie and Jopper.

Summary: Freelance photography work had been coming in steadily, but after a while, Jonathan started to look for something more. One night, he heard rumors of sketchy activities that sounded all too familiar in a small town in Long Island.

He didn’t realize that a small place like Montauk would have this many expensive places. It was a small town east of Long Island that thrived in the fishing and tourism industry. Unlike Hawkins that didn’t really have anything noteworthy besides the so-called curse and the rest of the messed up stuff that the government covered up. What was similar, though, was the rumors behind this seemingly unassuming town. There were articles about residents reporting strange activities at the old military base, UFO sightings, random blackouts across town, clocks stopped working properly, and people going missing.

Jonathan placed the Montauk Point tour guide book down and sighed, looking at the array of articles he managed to find. It was overwhelming. While he managed to track down the connections, he still thought that Nancy would have been quicker. Nancy…

When college got busy and adjusting to life in big cities got a bit much, he and Nancy hadn’t had the chance to talk. Last time they spoke, Nancy expressed her frustrations with the school’s newspaper, how picky they were with their stories and how they always published the same people that wrote biased articles. She said that it was almost as worse than working at Hawkins Post, which was saying something.

NYU was a culture shock for Jonathan for sure. A lot of rich kids from the city that made Junior year Steve Harrington look like an innocent country bumpkin. There was also a mixture of art snobs, both elitists and nonconformists. Often, they make the same points but for different reasons. He tried to not lose sight of why he loved photography. People can lie to your face, but a moment in time can reveal many things about them. Freelance work wasn’t so bad and he used it as an opportunity to explore the city and its stories.

It was at a hole-in-a-wall nightclub where a slam poetry group was performing when Jonathan heard about the Montauk project. He snapped a photo of the next performer on stage before sitting down, getting a glass of water from the bar. There was a couple sitting next to him, speaking in hushed tones as they leaned back on the bar, facing the small stage on the other side of the room.

Jonathan took a big gulp of water and turned in his seat, eyes scanning the crowd as the performer’s voice echoed through the old dusty speakers. Many were enraptured by the performer’s voice while those on the outskirts of the tables were either zoning out or whispering amongst themselves.

“No shit!” the man sitting next to Jonathan exclaimed.

His partner hushed him, smacking his arm. “I’m serious!” they hissed, leaning in closer, “My cousin said that even the magnets stopped working. Like, how is that possible?”

The man shrugged. “Could be a coincidence. Could be something. I mean, the whole town of Montauk? There’s not even anything significant about that place.”

“Anything could be significant if something special happens to it. Who would have even given a shit about Roswell until those UFO sightings, huh? Your birthdate wouldn’t hold any significance to me if I didn’t know it was your birthday.”

“Thanks a lot, babe.”

“But, you get my point, right? This time, I know someone who saw it. The blackouts, the broken magnets, even the hallucinations.”

“Hallucinations?”

“Yeah, she said that she was walking along the beach when she thought she saw something hovering over the old air force base. Something big. It was floating in the air, then it dropped so fast that it exploded and the ground shook. Lights were flashing and everything. When she blinked, it was as if the air force was untouched, completely abandoned, and the sky was darker.”

“That’s freaky stuff.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Are you coming over for Christmas?” Will asked hopefully.

Jonathan glanced at his calendar marked with deadlines and events. Christmas was closing in fast, faster than he thought possible now that he was in a big city. Decorations were being put up since the end of October and Christmas parties were being organized. It was a good time to pick up work and as tempting as it was, he was really missing home. His family was everything to him and this was the longest he had gone away from them.

“And miss mom’s burnt gingerbread cookies? Not a chance,” Jonathan said, smiling at the memory of when their mom got distracted by something and forgot to check the oven.

The brothers fell into a comfortable silence, the sound of rustling papers could be heard from Will’s side. He had been working on a new art project when Jonathan had called. It took Will some time to readjust to life back in Hawkins, especially when Jonathan left, but with El and their friends at his side, it almost felt like he never left.

DnD had been temporarily moved to Steve’s new apartment after the school had put a halt to the Hellfire Club for the time being. Eddie was bummed out about it. He worked so hard to get it made and opened its doors to all those who were lost and sought for escapism where one could shape their own narrative in a fantasy game. El was learning how to skateboard from Max when she wasn’t being a Hawkins High undercover superhero, making bullies trip on nothing or their shorts falling down in the middle of the hallway.

“How’s it been? The city sounds crazy from how you described it,” Will said.

Jonathan huffed out a laugh, nodding. “Yeah. It feels like… everything and nothing is happening, you know? Everyone’s got their own thing going on, always on the move. When you’ve got nothing going on… it’s just nothing.”

“Are you saying that you’re bored of living in New York City?” he asked incredulously.

“No. No, it’s not that. It’s just… I don’t know.” Jonathan sat down with his chest leaning against the back of the chair. “I feel like back in Hawkins, if I don’t figure out what I wanna do with my life, then I’m stuck there. In New York, if I don’t figure it out, then I’ll be swept away.”

“So, same thing, different pace,” Will surmised.

Now that they were older, the brothers found that their talks seemed almost at an equal footing. It was always Jonathan comforting and protecting Will, but now, he’s been seeing more and more of that wiseness that Will’s friends were always talking about. Not that he didn’t know about it before, but Will was his baby brother. He was supposed to be the one to give him advice and take care of him. Finding a friend in Argyle who, while near constantly in a stoned state, had advised that he try to lessen the burden he had placed on himself and let people help take care of him.

“Yeah. I’m just looking for something to do. Things have been getting monotonous, relatively speaking. I guess with everything we’ve been through, all these things that people find so… significant seem so trivial now.”

“Maybe you need to find something worth putting value in to make it significant. Things almost feel like nothing matters, right?”

Jonathan sorted through the newspaper clippings he had and stacked them neatly in chronological order. He thought back to the couple at the slam poetry night, about how something wasn’t significant until something special happened to it.

Hawkins was a place that no one even knew about until he and Nancy released the story that got Hawkins Lab shut down and the news that covered the mess at Starcourt Mall. A cursed town in Indiana. But, it was also Jonathan’s home, where everyone that mattered to him was. Well, almost everyone.

He looked down at his palm where the scar, shining slightly under the desk lamp light, served as a reminder of the night where he and Nancy lured out the demogorgon, knowing that they could potentially die. He sometimes wondered if she ever looked at her matching scar or covered it up to forget about it.

Will knew the gears were turning in his head, going by his brother’s silence. “They’re opening up a new mall here,” he said, “Several of the local businesses are planning to relocate there. There’s even going to be a skating rink and a music stage. El’s excited about that. She managed a kickflip the other day!”

“That’s so cool. Tell her I wanna see it when I get there. No evil Russian labs under the mall this time, right?”

“Not that we know of. I’m sure that once me and El sense something, mom and Hop will catch on quickly.”

“Mom should be a detective by now. Those two make quite a duo, don’t they?” Jonathan laughed before trailing off. “How are things with them? Mom’s happy, right? No bad fights?”

“Yeah, yeah, no, she’s really happy. I haven’t seen her this happy in a long time,” Will said. “Hopper… He treats her right and… he’s cool, I guess. Hey, did you know that Steve’s debating whether he should join the police force?”

“What? No way. A police officer with a former drug dealer and murder suspect for a partner?” Jonathan tried to picture Steve in that blue uniform looking exasperated at a handcuffed Eddie wearing a wide cheeky grin and snorted. He thinks that they might actually play it up and did not want to think about it any further.

“Stranger things have happened in Hawkins.”

“Oh, don’t remind me.”

“I am the reminder.”

There was no point in getting a car in New York. If he can’t walk to his destination, he’ll take the subway or the bus. If he was desperate, he’d take the cab. Getting to Montauk was going to take almost three hours of sitting in one spot, then getting a cab to one of the cheaper motels. He didn’t know why he decided to go. Maybe it was the familiarity, painful curiosity. He didn’t know what to expect either. Certainly not Nancy Wheeler at the train station.

“Nance?”

She turned, her brown curly hair swishing off her shoulders. There was a thick knitted scarf wrapped around her neck and a long trench coat tied tightly by the waist. Her large luggage was by her feet, her backpack slung over one shoulder as she bounced in her high ankle boots. Her round eyes widened when she saw him and a smile automatically spread across her face.

“Jonathan!”

The wind was knocked out of him and he wasn’t sure whether it was from the sight of her or when she slammed her body into his. His arms felt familiar around her small frame, his face aching from the sudden stretch of his lips as he felt her practically melting into him. He closed his eyes, breathing her in. Her light floral perfume, her fruity scented shampoo, and that hairspray she liked to use when her hair gets out of control.

“Nance, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be heading back home?” Jonathan asked, taking her luggage without question as he adjusted the strap of his backpack and small duffle bag.

“I was,” she said, still smiling, “But then I heard about something. Something big. I had to come and… and… I need to know what it is.”

There was that glint in her eye that he always loved. It was when she got excited, so passionate, and driven. Emerson’s school newspaper must be filled with idiots if they’re not jumping on the chance to use her stories.

“Is it the military base in Montauk?”

She nodded, grabbing his arm and leaned in to whisper, “You, too?”

He smiled. “Yeah. Wanted to take pictures that weren’t art scenes and street views for once. Think there’s an alien spacecraft? Some green people?”

Nancy rolled her eyes, walking with him towards the train. “Yeah, maybe like E.T.”

They hurried to a seat before the surge of people pushed them around and potentially separated them. They leaned back in their chairs with a sigh, taking a moment to relax and wait until everyone in the train settled for departure. Their hands were centimeters apart, but Jonathan didn’t dare to grab hers. They were on a break, a mutual decision to remain friends as they went off on their separate paths.

An hour into the ride, Nancy had dozed off, resting her head on Jonathan’s shoulder. Her left hand was slightly turned up, her matching scar on her palm peeking out. To anyone else, that scar could mean anything. Clumsiness, mostly, or accident prone. It would just be any old scar from their reckless teen years.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Nancy said softly, lifting her head slowly to look at him with a small smile.

He smiled back, bringing his left hand over next to hers. She grabbed his gently, running her smooth fingers over his scar, his own fingers giving a small twitch at the tickling sensation, before comparing them.

“Mine’s bigger,” she said, smirking.

He scoffed playfully. “Okay, it’s not a competition. I…” He trailed off as she entwined their fingers together and squeezed his hand.

“I really missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He squeezed her hand back.

She reluctantly pulled away to dig through her backpack for her journal. Of course, she already had notes about all the abnormal sightings written in neat handwriting with notes of what they knew about Hawkins Lab and about the signs of anything related to the Upside Down. No matter how many times they helped El close the portals, that wouldn’t stop people like the Russian military from trying to open it again.

His frustration and anger of governments seeking to control something that they do not understand overrode his exhaustion from the constant fighting to keep his friends and family safe. If what’s happening in Montauk is what he and Nancy think it is, they need to stop it.

“Ready to hunt down another government conspiracy?”

“I’ll get the perfect shot if you write the perfect story.”

Nancy nodded firmly with determination in her eyes. “Just like old times.”

#writersmonth2022 #writer's month #jancy #jonathan byers x nancy wheeler #jonathan x nancy #stranger things fic #jancy fic #stranger things imagine #jancy imagine #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #background steddie #hopper byers family #will namedrops the show

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noisynutcrusade · 1 year

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From Kate Moss to Ron Howard: the most beautiful photos of Richard Avedon chosen and narrated by the stars

Extraordinary, revolutionary, nonconformist Richard Avedon breaks the rules of fashion photography by shooting models outdoors, in the streets, squares, in places of real, pulsating and vibrant life. Like the photos of him. He portrays them in Paris in front of palaces and colonnades of Place de la Concorde and even the circus as in the iconic image Dovima with Elephants, Evening Dress by Dior,…

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nonconformistaesthetic · 3 years

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Hey everybody. Hope you like my tipe of aesthetics, because i love to be nonconformist and my photos show it the best.

#vintage #old #photography #aesthetic #nonconformist #enjoytheday #happyday #freshstart #lifeisbeautiful

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abandonn · 6 years

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#text #words #quotes #wall #wallart #black and white #b&w #b&w photography #conformity #nonconformist #clujnapoca #cluj #clujlife #romania #transylvania #art #thoughts #grunge #aesthetic

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lillidimages · 6 years

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Gender Roles

Models: Nick and Fawn

Photographer: Lillid Images

#Genderbent #gender #gender roles #genderisaspectrum #art #photography #beauty #androgynous #andro #nonbinary #nonconformist #socialjustice

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lswieckitay · 7 years

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"I think a lot of people have lost respect for the individual, you know, the individual, the person who doesn't conform." -Erykah Badu #rufskin #rufskin15 #ruflife #rufhouse #menswear #mensstyle #mensfashion #sportswear #athleisure #jumpsuit #onesie #photography #art #quote #editorial #campaign #respect #individual #nonconformist #love #lovelast (at Mammoth Lakes, California)

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arteversomarte · 4 years

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Jean Fraipont - Non-conformist (2011) #Jean #Fraipont #JeanFraipont #NonConformist #Anticonformista #ProdottoNonConforme #PNC #Photo #Foto #Fotografa #Photography #Birds #Uccelli #Passere #2011 #BlackAndWhite #Kunst #Konst #Művészet #Fan #Āto #искусство #Arte #Art #ArteVersoMarte (presso Prodotto Non Conforme) https://www.instagram.com/p/B_S3FFwK70O/?igshid=8x654a35uxqn

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daymdaddy · 7 years

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Androgyny is not trying to manage the relationship between the opposites; it is simply flowing between them. 💯👌❤ -June Singer

Photo Credits: maleitzke98

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

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Miles Between Us Chapter 7 ~All In A Day's Work~

WARNING: MILD SEXUAL CONTENT

Previously in A Wrinkle of Time

"You have my blessings. Conditions are, there should be once a week phone-calls. Video or facetime ones or whatever you call it. And when I'm on British soil ..."

Jamie suddenly straightened up on his seat. "We'll visit, or ye can come and stay with us."

Quentin shot up on his feet. "Very well then, welcome to the family, Fraser. Go and get your dinner ...you wouldn't want your wife ..." he coughed, his face turning red. "...I mean your girlfriend reheating what she's just lovingly made."

Jamie got up as well, ready to shut the laptop, relief and confusion at the sudden turn around washing over him in waves. What the fuck just happened? Too bewildered for words, "Of course," was all he could muster.

Quentin hesitated, as if in search of the right words, his throat working overtime. When he finally spoke, Jamie couldn't help but hear the emotion in the older man's voice. "If Claire's father was alive today, he would think his daughter has made a fine choice."

His jaw dropped involuntarily. "He would?"

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

Claire sat at her desk in her newly built writing studio, contemplating what to do about Thomas Christie next. For the past couple of days, she'd attempted to reach the elusive blogger by all means of communication: phone calls, email, comments on his posts and private messages in his Instagram and blog account. But her efforts, to her frustration, were to no avail. She'd even asked around the village for information on his whereabouts, but each answer led to nowhere. Though he had a resident address, it's quite apparent he wasn’t in. She'd thought of asking Jamie for help but decided not to. It was her project, and she's determined she would accomplish it with her own research skills.

Sighing, she leaned back against her seat and stared at the ceiling. Her boss, John, was counting on her to convince Christie to publish with Dreamweaver Publishing, and so far, she had nothing to show. Looking out the window facing the open fields, her gaze settled on the tractor bumpily navigating a small ragged lane, the rumbling of the engine soundless. She smiled. True to his words, Jamie had more than adequately soundproofed her workspace, shutting out any distracting noise. But with no sign of life from Christie, her work had been brought to a standstill.

Ah, hell! Claire glanced at the time. It was already mid-morning, and she'd been sat there staring blankly at Christie's blog all morning. What to do, what to do? She switched tabs on her browser and looked at his Instagram account, and realised he'd just posted a photo circa a minute ago. She decided to strike while he was online and send a message. Go for it, Beauchamp! With huge calming breaths, she rolled her shoulders and began to type, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

Hello Mr Thomas Christie. My name is Claire Beauchamp from Dreamweaver Publishing Company, London. I have been trying to reach you for the last couple of days to offer you a proposal that may be of interest to you. Some time ago, we came across your blog, and after having read through the content, we've come to realise it has an enormous potential to become the ultimate guidebook to the Scottish Highlands in print. Your knowledge, passion, and enthusiasm for Scotland and your keen eye for photography have captured the public interest, our company and myself included. We'd love to assist you in reaching your highest potential and expanding an even broader following should you be interested in authoring a book. I will be in Broch Mordha for the next few days if you wish to speak to me in person, and I will be more than delighted to explain the details. Any feedback you can give me at this point would be highly appreciated. Best regards, Claire.

Thinking Christie would appreciate the option, she included her phone number and her professional email address and then clicked send. After going over her message, she randomly liked his posts and commented on a recent photo for good measure, hoping it would be enough to get his attention. Oh, please answer this time!

Satisfied for now she'd done everything she could, she decided to make a coffee. She was just about to get up when her phone rang, making her jump in the process. Oh, sweet Mother of God! She must be more on edge than she thought. Clearing her throat, she gingerly tapped the answer button on her screen.

"Hello?" she squeaked. Damn it! I sound weird.

"Miss Beauchamp?" a deep, heavily accented voice answered. "Thomas Christie here."

"Mr Christie! You called!"

"Please, call me Tom. I'm no' much for convention and formalities. May I call ye Claire? If that's alright."

"Of course," she smiled, regaining back some semblance of composure. She'd already prepared a presentation in her head, but looking back now, it sounded like a pitch from a realtor selling a million-pound property. She reminded herself, Thomas Christie was a nature buff and liked to live an uncomplicated life, if not minimally, when travelling around Scotland in his restored Westfalia Volkswagen Camper. If she'd learned anything from his posts, it was that he wouldn't be easily persuaded with a promise of fame and monetary gain. There's no option but to start improvising.

"I heard a pretty lass was looking for me," he drawled with a hint of amusement in his voice. "I was informed ye were asking around. At first, I thought ye might have been from the council trying to get hold of me because of my unpaid council taxes. If that had been the case, I would have made an exception and come and paid my dues after seeing the photo my mate has taken of ye. Shame it wasn't a better close-up."

"Photo?"

"Aye, photo. My mate took it when ye werenae looking and sent it to me. Ye are bonnie, I must admit."

"Oh!" Holy, is he flirting? Claire wouldn't be surprised. This man's charms had drawn quite a lot of female fans to his site, and it was apparent that he's attempting to weave it on her. He probably thrived in his devotees' admiration, making him aware of his own appeal. This kind of cocksure behaviour wasn't a novelty, so she ignored the teasing but attempted to maintain a fairly laidback attitude. "Well, as you can see, I'm not from the council. And if I were, I wouldn't be making a noise about it now, would I?"

He laughed out loud. "You're right. So, what can I do for ye, Claire?"

"Have you read my message?"

"I have," he said quietly. "But I want to hear from ye why ye think my blog would be good enough to be published."

"Well, as I said, your passion and enthusiasm for Scotland are very apparent in your writing. Your words are ... how shall I say it, so visceral. But I'm not going to lie, though. We would need to make a lot of adjustments before we could present it to the mass. A bit of tweaking here and there and ..."

"Tweaking? I thought ye liked my work as it is?"

"Oh, I do," she said hurriedly. "You misunderstood. We wouldn't want to take the essence out of your writing. It's just a process every book has to go through before it's published. Like polishing your sentences, making them smooth and clear, ensuring that they don't have unnecessary phrases and repetition. And of course, there's the design and typesetting ...oh, well, that's for much later on. It's all standard drill in the publishing process."

"I see ..."

When a long silence lapsed, she checked her phone screen to make sure they were still connected.

"Tom?"

"Aye, I'm still here." He took a huge deep breath. "And what's yer role in this, Claire?"

"I'm the editorial assistant for Dreamweaver, and I'm here to make this proposal and answer all your questions."

"Right ...Weel, ye see, this is my concern. I'm an avid book reader, and while I'm pleased with all the attention my online journal is getting, I highly doubt that my writing would make it among the best selling list, let alone would anyone, for that matter, be too giddy with excitement to buy it. So what's all the fuss?"

The ambiguity in his voice wasn't lost on her. He may be this self-assured, nature-loving, nonconformist bloke as he'd portrayed on his online travel journal. But clearly, some of that attitude needed to rub off on his self-belief for his art.

"Oh, but that's where you're mistaken," she reassured. "My boss, John Grey, is totally sold with the idea of your adventure stories around Scotland, and he thinks with the proper structural development, design and marketing, it would be a hit. Especially with your fans. The concept is refreshing, and it would be different from any travel guides out there. And besides, it would be an excellent boost for Scottish tourism."

He made some muffled noise and then cleared his throat. "What about ye?"

"What about me?"

"Are ye sold on the idea of my blog?"

Part of John's faith in this book's promising prospect clung to Tom's admirable physical qualities. But for her, that wasn't the main selling point.

She straightened up from her seat and leaned over her laptop. With a flick of her wrist, she brought her computer to life and right there on the screen was his Instagram account. She remembered John's words, Sell him the dream! But she didn't need reminding. Tom may not be the most proficient writer, but his contents were great, especially the picturesque panorama photos. She read a few snippets of his post and smiled.

"Tom ...this opportunity Dreamweaver is offering you would be great exposure for your travel journal. By publishing it in print, you'll be able to reach a broader audience. Your knowledge of this wonderful place is beyond incredible from flora to fauna, the lands' history, the weather phenomenon that can only be termed as typically Scottish ...the whole package is simply amazing. Your passion and enthusiasm for this place make me want to go on that adventure you so love …" She inhaled deeply, searching for the right words. "And I know deep in my guts your future readers would feel the same way. And that's what a great travel book should do, great adventure stories that inspire readers and challenge them to step outside the comfort zone ...even for a little while. This is the kind of book that could encourage people to explore, make them realise that escape from the daily drudgery doesn't mean expensive trips halfway around the world, and that adventure can be found in one's own backyard or a few miles trip down the road. I say you should share this with the world. And to answer your question ...yes, I'm totally sold."

She was out of breath by the time she finished, so she leaned back on her seat and crossed her fingers, hoping for a positive outcome. It was all now down to Tom. She didn't want to push, but the longer the silence between them went on, the more she felt like she was forcing him into a snap decision.

Ah, hell! "Look, Tom, there's no need to decide right now. You have my number. Why don't you think about it for now and call me up when you've made a decision. How about that?"

"I have a better idea. How about we discuss this further in person before I decide? Let's say ...over a dinner date?" he suggested in a low voice.

The word date resounded loudly in her ear. Oh, dear, God!

She needed to play this right without making it look like she was turning him down. Hoping for the best, she laughed nervously. "Of course, it only seems fair to meet first in person before you decide." She swallowed hard and squeezed her eye shut. "But I would hardly call it a date. We can meet at the Inn's pub in the village square and professionally discuss everything over lunch if that's alright. And just to be clear, I already have a boyfriend."

"Ah, damn!"

She flinched. "Oh, dear!"

He laughed. "Relaxed, Claire. I get it. Ye're taken, and I'm no' surprised. But ye cannae blame a lad for trying, could ye?"

"N-no, of course not ..."

"So business lunch it is then. I'm away for a few more days, so ye have to wait a bit more. I'll give ye a ring when I get back. How's that?"

Yess! She made an effort not to sound too relieved. "That's perfect, Tom! I'll see ye in a few days!"

"Great!" Then the line went dead.

She let out a massive sigh of relief. So damn close! Feeling elated at the outcome of their conversation, she shot to her feet and did a happy dance. She couldn't wait to call John and tell him everything. If she did her work well and laid out all the finer details of the publishing process and projected outcome, she knew Tom wouldn't be able to turn down the proposal. Invigorated, she immediately went back to work and began typing her outline. Ah, life is good!

..........

Jamie killed the chainsaw engine and pulled down his safety goggles when he caught sight of Jenny's car approaching. He had a bird's eye view of the driveway from the tree and could see everyone's coming and going. What the bloody hell is she doing here? She didn't usually come to job sites; nevertheless, he decided to come down since it was nearly lunch break. Wondering why her visit couldn't wait until work was done for the day, he gripped on to his harness and made a slow descent.

His sister got out of the car, stopping to greet some of the workers and subtly launching glares at him. Alertness immediately snapped in Jamie's shoulders as he realised something was up.

He dropped to the ground, his work boots landing on a combination of mulch and wood chips debris. As he laid down his chainsaw, he watched his sister approach and noticed the forced smile she had for the workers a few seconds ago, waning from her face. He braced himself as he waited for her to say something, unease slithering like a snake up his spine. This was definitely not a friendly visit.

"What's this I hear, ye havenae been attending therapy?" she hissed. "Have ye gone, daft?"

He glanced above Jenny's head to see if anyone was watching them before glowering down at her. "For fuck sake, Jen, ye're no' my ma," he said in a low voice. "Whatever's about to spew out of yer mouth, this is no' the time nor the place for this."

"Ach aye? Wait till ma hears about ye missing yer therapy!"

"Oh, what's this? We're back in primary school or what? Rushing off to ma to tell her everything. Why cannae ye give ma and me a break, eh?"

"The therapy is for yer own good!"

"I'm fine, Jen! I told ye that many times! What part of 'I'm fine' cannae ye understand?"

"Ye've been telling everyone that all yer life. Everything's fine ... I'm fine ... dinnae fash," she mimicked his voice, her face scrunching up. "Ye say that all the time even when, in actual fact, most of the time ye werenae. So why do ye suppose I dinnae believe ye?"

Jamie looked up at the sky and let out a massive breath. "Aye, there's truth to what ye say. But this time ...I swear, I've never felt better."

"Bloody hell! All this time, I thought ye've been attending therapy. I wouldnae have known if Geneva hadnae asked after ye."

"Weel, if ye'd asked, I would've told ye!"

"No, you wouldnae. And that's always been yer problem."

Christ, why can't she just shut up? He glanced up and noticed his men were looking towards them now. He tugged at the neck of his shirt and winded his head. "Jenny, stop! I cannae do this right now."

His sister stepped forward and was right at his face. "Ye think I'm telling ye off for fun? Weel, here's the news. Everyone wants the best for ye, but ye dinnae care, do ye? Ye're acting like one selfish prick!"

"Jenny ..." he warned, feeling hot and cold all at once.

"No, dinnae Jenny me ..."

"Jenny, shut up! I cannae ..."

"Ye could've at least had Geneva assessed ye. Is that too much to ask?"

Jamie shut his eyes. When he opened them again, he realised Jenny's voice had become distorted, and the grating sound of the stump grinder and helicopter whirring above his head grew more punctuated. Without a hint of warning, a bomb suddenly detonated inside Jamie, and his world began to move in slow motion. Seeing nothing but red, he was only vaguely aware that his angry bellow brought everyone in the vicinity to a standstill.

"What the fuck, Jamie!"

Jamie came to his senses when an arm landed across his chest. He realised Willie was standing between him and Jenny. He glanced at his sister, and her expression caused something inside of him to still. He looked down and saw his fists were two rocks, shaking as if prepared to do some severe damage. Oh, God!

"Jenny ...Willie ..." Jamie whispered. "I ...ah ..."

Hands curled up under her chin, Jenny's eyes were as big as saucers, and she looked terrified. Of me? His heart nosedived to his boots so swiftly, he wondered how he remained upright. The fury evaporated in an instant, and all that remained was shame. He'd felt that kind of guilt before but never with enough punch to knock the air out of his lungs. For crying out loud, this is my sister. What was I thinking?

"Jen ..." He attempted to reach out to his sister, but Willie's arm restrained him. Realising the cause of his older brother's concern, he forced his fists to unfold, aware of Willie watching closely. "I'm so sorry. Oh, Christ, I wasnae gonnae hurt ye," he rasped. "I could never lift a hand to ye. Ye must know that."

He swallowed a lump when Willie appeared reluctant to let him go. But Jenny patted their brother's arm, nodding to let them know she was alright. When Willie took a cautious step back, Jamie immediately gathered his sister into his arms and cradled her against his chest.

"Jen ...forgive me. I didnae mean to shout," he said thickly. "Ye ken I wouldnae physically hurt ye, aye? For Christ sake, ye're my sister, and I love ye. Ye looked so frightened. I couldnae bear the way ye looked at me ..."

"Jamie ...I wasnae scared of ye ..." Jenny whispered. "I was scared for ye."

He pulled slightly away and searched her face. "What do ye mean?"

"Even though ye've been to war, I ken ye dinnae like fighting and violence. Ye abhorred it. I was scared ye might do something ye might regret and make yer condition worse. I dinnae want that for ye."

Jamie stared down at her. "Jenny ..."

"Look, Jamie. It was my fault. I shouldnae have pushed knowing yer condition, and ye ken what my temper is like when it gets out of control. It's like ..."

"Like mine ..." Jamie finished off for her. Drawing her once more into his embrace, they stood like that for a while. Soothing, apologising and hushing each other.

Willie stared at them and shook his head in disbelief, mumbling a sequence of profanities. It wasn't the first time he'd seen their outburst with such intensity. But it was probably the first time Jamie had seemed out of control. Reassured that peace had been restored, for the time being, Willie spun around and left them alone. Exercising his authority at their workers, the older Fraser barked warnings that gossip coming from their workplace would not be tolerated and anyone found guilty would be subjected to an immediate suspension. And with that, he stomped off, leaving them all to stare at his disappearing form in shock.

..........

"There ye are," a deep voice mused.

Claire jumped, making her slam the fridge door and Adso bolt out of the kitchen. She took a deep breath before turning around.

"Jamie! You're home early. I was just about to prepare dinner."

"Willie didn't need me for the rest of the afternoon, so he sent me home early." His chest was bare and heaving and glistening with sweat. He must have taken off his top as he came in. "I ran all the way from work. I think I may have far too much energy," he explained, slowly approaching her. His hand reached out and placed it behind her neck, and drew her in for a slow wet kiss, knocking the air out of her lungs. His other hand slid under her sweatshirt and squeezed her breast. "Tell me, what am I suppose to do about it, Sassenach."

She pulled away from him and scrunched up her nose. "Jamie! You're dirty."

"And here I thought ye like me dirty." There was no amusement in his tone, and his bunched jaw told her he was on edge or maybe stressed?

"Why don't you take a shower while I make us something to eat, or better still, how about a bath to help you relax? I'll even bring you a beer," she suggested, feeling a tad concern as she eyed him questioningly.

"How about ye come and have a shower with me," he wheedled, tugging her closer.

She drew away and took a step back. "Jamie, I've just had one, and I'm all clean."

"No' a problem. I can get ye dirty in no time." Jamie hauled her into his arms as she tried to dodge. Squealing, she slapped his chest. Once more, his hands wandered, causing a tingling sensation to coast all over her body. "There we go, ye're as dirty as me now." Pressing himself against her, he inhaled her hair as his breath came faster, fingers twisting in the hem of her top. "Ye definitely need a shower now." he gritted.

Laughing, she peered up at his face, and what she saw made her do a double-take and swiped the smile off her lips in an instant. Oh, sweet Mother of God, he looks worse for wear. Something must have happened at work. Didn't he say Willie sent him home? Looking closely, she noticed he looked weighed down with need, and it wasn't just the sexual kind. It was something more and urgent. He'd had almost the same look the other night when he woke up from a fitful sleep, but she hadn't pushed to find out. His hands were all over her now, frantic and desperate like he was trying to grasp onto something to anchor himself, his breathing becoming more shallow and harsh, and his eyes beginning to glaze.

"Jamie stop! Stop right this second."

He immediately stilled and loosened his grip, shame marring his face. "Ach Christ, Sassenach, did I hurt ye? I did, didn't I? Tell me! Oh, dear God ..."

He was about to turn away, but with her hands, she forced his pained face to look at her, a moan barely subdued in his throat. She could already read what was going on through his head. No way would she stand by and let him take any blame, feel shame or guilt. Not this time. And not anymore. He'd made mistakes like everyone else and would continue to make them, but he needed to believe he was a good soul. This had to stop now. "Look at me, James Fraser," she demanded in a firm voice. "Look at me! Whatever is going through that damn mind of yours, don't you even bloody dare entertain it. Are you listening to me?"

"Sassenach ..."

"No, Jamie! I don't know what happened to you today, but let me tell you this ...shit happens all the time, alright? And sometimes we don't get to have any control over it. That's just the way it is. Tonight we're going to talk, even if it takes the whole bloomin' night. But first ..." Before she could change her mind, she stepped away from him and yanked off her top and pulled her leggings down. When she was fully naked, she took his hand and laid it on her bare breast. "Take whatever you need, Jamie."

He baulked. "Sassenach ...ye shouldnae want this in my state. It's wrong. I-I was too rough. I could have hurt ye." His voice sounded hollow and agonised.

"But you didn't."

He palmed her breast. "Christ, do I have a shred of decency left?"

"Do you love me?" she asked, undoing his jeans button. She saw he was already highly aroused and his skin covered in goosebump.

"With all of me," he groaned when she pulled down his zipper. "And ye ken that."

Determination licking through her veins, she stood on her tiptoes and spoke into his ear, her hand sliding inside his jeans to caress the ridge of his hardness. "If that's the case, what we're about to do is not wrong."

A voice raced through her consciousness, telling her this was the way forward. She knew he needed his control back before he would be able to speak to her. So she got down on her knees and pulled his pants down.

When he wrapped her hair in his fist and tilted her head back, she smiled. "Now, let's get dirty and exorcise those pesky brain chatter, shall we?" Before he could reply, she took him full in her mouth and worshipped him with her love, absorbing every frustrated growl that ripped from his throat and every emotion that poured out of him with every roll of his hips.

She pushed him to the edge and over until he found his release, and his loud cries echoed in the air. When he shattered around her, his body slumped onto the floor and into her arms.

Claire knew they had a long night ahead of them, so she cradled him, waiting patiently for his breathing to calm. Later after she bathed him, they would talk, but for now, she was contented just to hold him a little while longer, as she wondered how many of Jamie's demons she would have to slay tonight and if love would be enough to conquer his hell.

Dear Readers,

Thank you all for your feedback from the previous chapter. I know it was a bit deep and dark, but I really did want to do Jamie's condition justice, and I must admit, I probably got carried away putting so much emphasis into it. But that's just me, I guess.

And as for the latest instalment, I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think. I must admit it is moving a bit slow, but it's a necessary move to pull this story together as I cover loopholes and grounds. One day, you'll understand the logic behind it.😀 So have patience, my friends - all in good time. Stay safe for now and take care until next time. X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #ClaireBeauchamp/JamieFraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

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