barclay norris chalmers

[barclay]

BARCLAY NORRIS CHALMERS

Name: Barclay Norris Chalmers
Nicknames: - - -
Age: 36
Date of Birth: May 18th
Orientation: Heterosexual
Nationality: Scottish
Home Town: Perth, Scotland
Subject Taught: Photography
Play by: Gerard Butler

--- BITTER
Once you've had a history like Barclay's, it's difficult not to turn into a hardened, serious man. He figures it's him and Logan against the world, and that is how it will always be. In terms of relationships, he will never trust a woman again after what his ex-girlfriend did to him, practically stranding him as a single father to go off and have many flings for herself. He's done the same now himself, but even the women he sleeps with? He's just using them for sex and feels nothing for them. Once things get serious, he bails. Barclay has always been a glass is half-empty guy. Plus, with his war experiences coupled in, no one can really question his closed off attitude and cynical approach.

--- DEDICATED
No matter how much of an asshole he appears to be, Barclay has never been a guy to just quit something. He might bitch and balk at authority, but in the end, he WILL get the job done or die trying. It pisses him off when a stone goes left unturned and he doesn't want people assuming he is a lazy assed man. He hasn't worked so hard in life, shaking of his delinquent label, to prove otherwise. Barclay also cares a lot about his career--photography, namely--and plans to continue it even though his position with Emerson is not yet a guarantee. He takes pride in his work, and it's the one thing that can actually calm him down.

--- INVENTIVE
Barclay has a lot of ideas he probably won't ever share. He can figure out how to make things work just with a little thing called common sense. And he's quite handy, especially since his father was a plumber--he's one of those people that can be called upon for favors, so long as you have the right thing to barter with. Whether that be sex, junk food, or plain old cash; he just might do it.

--- DANGEROUS
This man is, literally, trained to kill. Sure, it's been a few years since he's actually been in the armed forces, but he hasn't forgotten his training and he continues to work out excessively to stay in shape. It gives him a sense of accomplishment, to know he's not completely weak and can serve as a strong role model to his son. Barclay's temper is also something that can be quite volatile if the correct buttons are pushed, and he happens to get physical whenever angered or upset. He's prone to breaking a lot of shit, in other words. And he has been known to start a bar fight every now and again if another drunk idiot is hitting on his conquest for the night.

--- SLEAZY
If he drinks, Barclay is not a gentleman. Not to say that he is when he doesn't drink, but if he has imbibed, it's worse. He's a blunt person, not one to ever censor anything he says, so it comes with a lot of Scottish cursing and rude comments. The man is as boorish as they come. Nearly everything he says is suggestive, if you're a woman. With men, he's a lot more aggressive and trying to play alpha dog, though this is done in subtle fashions as well. If it's a waste of his time, he won't do much. Though, he knows his limits and will go to some extent to keep a cool head--even if he has to sit back and let someone get away with something.

--- FATHER
About the only time anyone will EVER catch Barclay being soft and gentle is when he's playing father to Logan. That is not a job he takes lightly, and he strives to set a good example for the three year old. Logan means the world to Barclay, and he grows rather frustrated if someone mentions him in conversation. The man considers that his personal, private life--he doesn't think people should be privy to his life's story or why he is a single father. But he takes care of Logan the best he knows how, because he is a single father.

--- VULNERABLE
He'll never admit it, but the ex-soldier is very weakened in life. He's got insomnia, night terrors, a kid to take care of, a broken heart, a family that's always considered him second-best... Barclay has a lot dragging him down and he sometimes wonders at having support. Sometimes, it can just get really tough to deal with all by himself. If he weren't so proud, Barclay would probably humble himself. But he won't because he thinks he can take whatever life throws at him. Bring it on.

LIKES: Being a father. Photography. The beauty of chaos. Simplicity at its finest. Junk food. Exhaustive workouts. Dogs. Feisty women. Passionate sex. Flings or one night stands. Professionalism. Strong-minded folks. Horror films. Cartoons ( because of his son ).
DISLIKES: Altering a photograph through computer technology. Health foods. Cats and other small animals. Stuck-up prudes. Teases. Naivety. Folks babying his son. Relationships. Commitment. The grading scale. Bullshit excuses. Chick flicks. Movie "first dates". Dating. Stupidity. Wasting good whiskey. Coca-cola products.

The Chalmers family was a middle class lot manned by a father with a plumbing profession. His wife was a low-scale musician doomed to grace the stage as someone's backup pianist in her career. Before Barclay came along, they already had one son they were quite proud of: Murray. He was their pride and joy, and expectations for him to become something great were high. Once Barclay was born, he came second in all things--especially where his older brother was concerned. The young boy lived in Murray's shadow, got blamed for things Murray did... Even at that tender age, he was aware his parents loved his brother best.

Through his childhood, Barclay acted out a lot merely to gain some sort of attention. Everyone called him the problem child. He was that brat you saw in restaurants throwing a tantrum ( and not to mention, food ) everywhere. In school, he disobeyed instructions and balked at any authority. Barclay spent many days in detention and raked up suspensions like they were candy. He and Murray never saw eye to eye; the two brothers were always at each other's throats, especially when the older boy liked to throw his successes in Barclay's face.

He was fortunate enough to discover an old camera in the family's attic, something that once belong to his grandfather. After getting it fixed up, the boy amused himself with pictures, pretending he was some great photographer. It as the only thing that really managed to calm him down and gave him a chance to escape this hectic life. However, this wasn't enough to keep the boy completely satisfied and content with his lot. Especially when it came to school.

At one point, Barclay got involved in the wrong sort of crowd. They had him drinking and doing drugs, and even convinced him to rob a convenience store. Unfortunately, he got caught and spent a year in a juvenile detention center, getting over himself and his so-called woes. He saw that, compared to the other boys, his issues weren't that horrible. His camera kept him company throughout his time spent there, though he had plenty of time to consider what he'd made of his life so far. Compared to the other boys, his situation was mild in the extreme. After all, it hadn't been as if his parents had never loved him; they simply considered him after Murray. This revelation caused Barclay to smarten up and put his life back in order.

Once out, Barclay set out to put his life back in order. He finished school and his next step was the military. It was the one thing he felt could straighten him up and keep him from being a boozehound for the rest of his life. Barclay enlisted in the British Armed Forces, and even though he'd gotten himself way in over his head, the young man hadn't been known to quit anything yet. Luckily, he was able to smuggle his camera in which helped to keep him sane at times. The army was tough; the activity rigorous and not what he was used to. But over time, he did get used to it. Fourteen mile runs, curfews, obstacle courses--they all became routine and he was in the best shape of his life. And, to make things better, he'd gotten over liquor withdrawals though he did pick up smoking.

Known as a tough, dedicated, and not mention strategical soldier, Barclay went through ranks fairly quickly. He appeared to be a favorite, and everyone considered him a leader from the get-go. Before he knew it ( mind you, this was over a decade now ), he was a Lieutenant General and in charge of his own unit. Being an officer was a lot different than an enlisted man; the perks were greater, though the work was still as hard to stomach. But he adapted, and he helped his men to be just as good if not better. The 9/11 tragedy struck not too long after his promotion, which had all the military forces up in arms. He was ordered to ship out to Iraq to aid the Americans, along with several other units. He and his men were stationed there. This provided Barclay with great opportunities to use his camera. He felt the world needed to know what was going on over there, so took as many photos he could of the unfolding war ( these photos would later become noted in galleries ).

The devastation of Iraq was what he preferred to record most--that, and his own soldiers as they went about their "normal" routines. Barclay had never before been face-to-face with human suffering, which was only natural to make a lasting impression on him ( to this day, he suffers from insomnia and night terrors because of it ). He was put into situations where it was kill or be killed--and so a few men were dead by his hand. This has preyed on his conscience since and he now considers himself a damned man because of it.

Barclay's stint in command wasn't a long one. Not even a year in, he was injured of a stab wound in his leg. If it hadn't been for a comrade shooting the enemy soldier, he probably would've been killed. As it was, a replacement was immediately flown in and Barclay was removed and dispatched. He spent several months in physical therapy to get his leg properly healed and to learn to walk again, though he still limps at times. After recuperation, Barclay's tour of duty ended completely and he was sent home. It was a nice little family reunion for once; his parents were very proud of him and his brother, for once, wasn't a dick about things. Now with his life ahead of him, the man turned back to his camera to find a paycheck. He took his photos to a local gallery and received a lot of praise there; they soon became a feature there. Barclay got a lot of attention for his war photos, and people took him seriously as a photographer for once. It had always just been a 'quirk' of his, and he'd now turned it into a career.

One day, he encountered an American tourist woman staring at his gallery of work. She was beautiful, so naturally he struck up a conversation and impressed her, later finding her name was Lisa Martins from Philadelphia. Wherever that was. They had an immediate connection, and for the remainder of her stay in Perth, Scotland, he had the opportunity to date her. They became very close and he considered himself passionately in love, which was different from other relationships. When she returned to America, he felt lonely and gutted, completely empty that his love had gone. So, Barclay made the decision to follow her since he could take photos wherever he went. Philadelphia was a big change from what he was used to--rolling lush lands to cluttered streets and suffocating smoke. But he had Lisa, and everything was okay.

Though they never married, the couple did have a son named Logan. He was given Barclay's last name, and the man thought things were great. In fact, he planned to marry Lisa and was just waiting for the right moment to make the three an actual family by society standards. However, Lisa wasn't as content as she'd pretended to be. His--what she later told him--clinginess suffocated her, and she felt her life was being planned without any say on her part. Before he knew it, she moved out and found herself another boyfriend--or three. They agreed to have Logan live with Barclay since his living arrangements were more definite, and she would visit whenever the desire struck. Which is quite often; Logan is juggled between the two parents more often than not.

Why Emerson?
Upon his move to America, Barclay sought employment where he could use his camera to make a dollar rather than be stuck doing something he could simply tolerate. Emerson was his first stop--they needed a photography teacher and he with his experience, notoriety, and not to forget persistence, the job was his. Of course, at the moment, it is only temporary for the man as he needs a green card before he can have a full-time position and be a citizen of the United States. For now, Barclay is still on the waiting list.

Duke leaned his chin heavily into his palm, a look of utter boredom seeped into his features while he methodically--and slowly--removed M&Ms from one bowl to another. That's right; he had gloves on and one hand was currently dipping fingers into the bowl with the most M&Ms, pushing the chocolate candies around until a specific color came to vision. That color? Blue. She only liked the blue M&Ms which, to Duke, was absolutely insane. His boss was a full-on nutter, if anyone cared to ever ask his opinion. Forcing him to sort through her candies just so she can have only blue M&Ms is something he'd consider a serial killer would have as a tick, perhaps. Lord knew she was smart enough, and probably had bigger gonads than he did... Yeah, he could definitely see that woman grabbing a knife and chasing him across the room. The thought made him shudder and a chill went down his back.

The only saving grace to this story was the fact he got to eat the rest of the M&Ms that she bought. It was like, a constant supply of M&Ms--all save the blue--and he never had to pay a penny for it. So, sorting through them wasn't as bad when that was on his mind. He loved chocolate, and any other sweet candy or junk food that came to mind. Duke was not a healthy eater in the slightest, but he did exercise when the mood struck and happened to be blessed with a rather nice form, if he did say so himself. It was enough to please Charlotte all those years, that's all he knew. She was all that mattered in the grand scheme of things. Well, his job... then her. He had to have some sort of stability to take care of her with, right? But hell, right now, she had taken even that duty away from him. They'd gone through high school, college, and a few more years even after that, and she chose now to rip his heart out? Claimed he was negligent? That he mistreated her?! Duke had never lain a malicious hand on her in all the time he'd know her, so he had no idea where her fears came from.

Thinking of this put a sour taste in Duke's mouth. He wet his lips, tossing one of the blue M&Ms unnecessarily hard into the building bowl of blue M&Ms. He paused, staring at the task in front of him--this was his job. He catered to an overlord blonde whose greatest pleasure in this world was to make him miserable, it seemed. She obviously didn't take him seriously despite the ridiculous amount he made as a salary. This was all he ever did--if he wasn't sorting blue M&Ms from the rest, he was on coffee runs, or heating her lunch, or picking up her dry-cleaning, or hailing taxis for her, or pulling a supply run... The list could go on but it was too depressing for him to recount at the moment. Barclay Sloan Duke was nothing but Jannsen's messenger boy, and when she was in the mood for it, lap dog. He often joked with friends, in some vain attempt to lighten his spirits, that he was her golden retriever. He'd bet money she would have his nameplate say that instead of his real name if she could get away with it.

This was absolutely ridiculous. There was the MacBrown project--personally assigned to Jannsen's team--around the office. Everybody had a part in making this man's dreams of getting published come true--everybody but Duke, that is. No, he got to work on the fantastic M&M assignment. Why didn't she put him on this case? He was the best; she knew this. She hired him. Jannsen didn't strike him as the kind of person who'd hire someone they considered utterly useless, even though that is how she treated him ninety-five percent of the time. The rest consisted of sub-par assignments that required little thought or effort, and could usually be finished by the end of the week. Duke was sick and tired of these bullshit errands, of these haphazard accounts he worked on. It was boring, and it kept him from utilizing his full potential. His talents were greater than this, and Jannsen was purposely holding him back. Even knowing this, though, he refused to quit. He hadn't dealt with her bullshit for so long to simply toss in the towel that quickly. Eventually, one day he hoped, she was going to have to give him his big break. And who knew? She might even publish his work, if he ever got the nerve to show her it.

Duke wheeled his plush chair back and got to his feet, removing his gloves and tossing them away. He was done lolly-gagging his ass around today. The work day was almost over and he wanted a piece of that MacBrown account. He knew that Jannsen needed his help--she was just too proud to come ask him. Whenever she got overwhelmed, she never left her office, always trying to take care of it herself. Like a control freak who didn't trust anyone else to do it correctly. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of her in the bast two hours, since he replenished her coffee. He'd wager she was stuck behind a mountain of papers, talking on the phone in rushed tones, and scribbling furiously. Jannsen had lovely handwriting though, even when she rushed it. The walk to her office was quite short, considering his ( much smaller ) office was right next to hers. He was her assistant, after all. His hand rose, knuckles poised to knock and bid entry before he remembered the bowl of blue M&Ms left on his desk. With a light curse, ignoring the few curious glances he had of those passing through the hallway, Duke doubled back for the forgotten sweets. He grabbed the bowl and tucked it into the crook of his arm, carrying it carefully back to her office as the little candies sloshed around in their container. He had to have some sort of offering to bring her--he couldn't go into the lion's den empty handed.

He could make it look as if he were bringing the M&Ms to her like a good assistant and then, as an 'afterthought', inquire if she needed any help with anything. Maybe he could throw the name MacBrown in there somewhere, so she would know specifically what he wanted. It was worth a try, right? Duke felt his chest seize up with self-doubt and a healthy dose of fear. She did this to him; she was the only woman who could. The so-called kitten had claws and teeth, and she wasn't afraid to use them. Especially when it came to her assistant. Before he could lose his nerve, Duke wrapped his knuckles against the polished wood three times and paused. He didn't hear any response, though he was sure she'd heard him. The woman was probably immersed in her work and thought that any sane person would just back away from the door when they were met only with silence. Not Duke. The man grasped her doorknob and twisted it, pushing the door open and following in quickly after. "Good afternoon," he greeted the blonde with false cheerfulness. The smile stretched across his face hurt. He closed the door and walked a few more paces in, holding up the bowl of blue M&Ms. "I got those M&Ms done for you! Just the way you like. Blue M&Ms only," he said, majorly kissing her ass now. He hated having to do it.

"Did you need me for anything else before I go, Jannsen? I heard that the MacBrown account was a real toughie tonight..." HA! That was an expert move, he congratulated himself on his smooth-talking abilities. Duke walked forward eagerly now, intending to place the bowl of blue M&Ms on her desk. However, he missed the stack of files on the floor and tripped right over them; both hands gripped the bowl now as he tripped forward, barely catching himself before he face-planted right on her floor. The stack of papers went everywhere. The M&Ms flew from the bowl, every last one of them. They crash-landed all around her office, showering down where she happened to be sitting. Duke's lips rolled in tightly, forming a thin white line where his mouth should be--clearly, trying to hold back a smile and hearty laughter, even though he should be embarrassed. He wondered if any of the M&Ms had gone down that pretty little top of hers... "Uhm... That was an accident," he finally admitted, jogging forward to help her.

Hi, I'm ROBYN and I'm 21 old. I'm OBSESSED. This is my FIRST application. I found Failure's Not Flattering from CAUTION 2.0.

[/size][/center][/justify]

[- SALLY SEKRUTS]

[/blockquote][/blockquote]