Current
What did you say? I couldn't hear you. I was watching the World Cup.
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likes
2 mos ago
Anyone reading any interesting fiction right now?
2 mos ago
Sparrow Envy happening here. Seven weeks till our school year is done.
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3 mos ago
So many greaat writes here ... who's going to submit for the Microfiction & Poetry contest #14 - new beginnings
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3 mos ago
Does anyone else crave the Likes, Thanks and Laughs for their Role Play posts ... or am I the only one?
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Bio
Call me Stryder, call me Brodie, your choice. I have been roleplaying for a few years starting in the time of the great pandemic. I have discovered I am a bit of a chameleon, always trying to match the length and style of my roleplaying partners.
Starting in the dark days of Omegle, I discovered that there were people interested in stories with a plot and something long term. Since then I have moved on, and hopefully forward, from one paragraph writing to multi-paragraph pieces that are carefully written and actually proofread.
I am just beginning to figure out the multi-character role play but in the past only focused on 1 to 1. In that style, I (we) have written role plays that have been slice of life, fantasy, dystopian, and more. The story has always been important, and the slow burning romance more valued than something quick and messy. As one partner likes to say ... substance over smut.
I have a few role plays going on with different partners but I am always up to meet new people, exchange ideas and create new stories. If you are interested send me a message here or we can chat more in Discord (just send me your details and we can connect).
Current Characters ...
Face Claim ...Ryan Kwanten
Full Name: Elias Rowan Petterson Nickname(s): Eli – what most people call him. Rowan – used by old friends or when things get serious. Coach – what some of the kids have started calling him, whether he likes it or not.
Age: Twenty-eight ... Scorpio ... November 3rd
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Straight (though not rigid about it—he’s more about connection than labels, even if he doesn’t say that out loud).
Occupation: High School English Teacher Assistant Football Coach (unofficial, inevitable in a town like this)
Place of Residence: Small rented house on the edge of Pines Holler, one of the last houses on Miners Road
Family and Close Connections: Mother: Diane Mercer - Age 54 - Former waitress, now works part-time at the local diner. Father: Thomas Mercer |- Deceased - Former mill worker. Younger Sister: Lila Mercer - Age 22 - Left town, limited contact. Friends: A few from high school still around, though most relationships are surface-level now. Significant Other: None. Complicated history. Keeps people at arm’s length.
Most of the town went through the same high school ... Remembers Callie, Mollie, Estrella, Anna Lou and Virginia They were younger but remembers Jules, Noah, Zoey and Ellie
Now teaching some of Jule's Emerson's Siblings
Appearance: Height: Six feet, one inch. Build: Broad-shouldered, solid. Strong without trying to be. Looks like someone who grew up working with his hands because he did. Hair: Light to Medium brown, usually a little too long on top, falls into his eyes when he hasn’t bothered to cut it. Eyes: Grey-blue. Usually tired Facial Hair: Keeps a short beard or stubble most of the time.
Clothing Style: Practical, worn-in, quietly intentional. Flannels, henleys, denim jackets, boots that have seen years of use. Nothing flashy, but everything fits him well. He cleans up better than people expect when he needs to. button-down, sleeves rolled up.
Body Markings: Faded scar along his right forearm from a childhood accident. Small tattoo on his ribs—Roman numerals (his father’s birthday). Rarely seen, rarely talked about.
Personality: Steady and patient, with a dry sense of humor. After years with a father who drank too much and had a temper when drunk, Elias become protective of his family and was always loyal to friends and family. Quietly intense, and observant, usually picks up on things others miss, aware of those situations that can turn ugly. Stubborn but calm, not loud. Eli always comes across as dependable, the kind of guy you trust without thinking about it. He shows up. He does the work. He listens more than he speaks.
After leaving his mom and sister to go to college, carries a lot of guilt he doesn’t talk about. Another layer underneath it all, he’s restless. Never content, never happy with himself or his relationships. Struggles with letting people truly know him. There’s a weight to him with a sense that he’s both exactly where he belongs but somehow hates it and feels trapped by it.
History: Born and raised in Pines Holler, Eli grew up on the edge of everything, the edge of town, the edge of poverty, the edge of a family that was always one bad month away from falling apart. His father worked long hours at the mill, coming home tired, quiet, and often drinking more than he should. Dad was usually a good man but when he drank, which only got worse with age, more yelling, more anger. His mother held things together as best she could, stretching paychecks and patience in as many ways as possible.
Eli learned early how to be the “easy one.” Hardly ever in trouble. Good in school. Helpful. Invisible when it mattered but always there for anyone and everyone.
Football gave him an outlet. English gave him a voice he didn’t use outside the classroom. One teacher, someone who saw something in him, pushed him toward college. Told him he could be more than what Pines Holler expected of him. So he left to go to the state university and got his degree in English and Education.
Always been the guy who kept his head down and did everything right but always watched and maybe wanted to be with those who didn’t.
And wanted to get away but still… he came back.
Now he teaches kids back in the high school he had once been a student at, kids who remind him of himself. Watches them sit in the same desks, make the same choices, carry the same weight and often more.
Extra Facts // Headcanons: • Drinks more than he lets on. Not out of control but enough that it’s a habit, not a choice. • Late nights are his worst enemy. That’s when the thoughts get loud, that;’s when the self-loathing and doubts kick in., • Reads constantly but scrolls even more. • Has a soft spot for music he won’t admit to liking,old country, acoustic, anything a little raw. • Fixes things around his house himself, even when it would be easier not to. • Keeps his father’s old lighter, even though he quit smoking cigarettes years ago. • Struggles with anger. Always close to the edge, worried about breaking. IN class it comes out quiet, tight jaw, controlled voice, hands clenched just out of sight. • Doesn’t believe he’s the “good man” people think he is, but tries to be anyway. Hates that he doesn't meet the standard he believes he should. • Has a habit of showing up for people without being asked… and disappearing when they get too close. • Still hasn’t decided if coming back to Pines Holler was the right choice. Publicly complains about the developers, privately wants them to tear everything down and give him a "good" reason to get out of this town.
Name: Jaxson Mercer Profession: Head Chef of a Michelin-Starred Restaurant Age:32 Height: 6’1” Build: Lean, strong, narrow waist, strong forearms, broad shoulders.
Strengths:
Brilliant palate and obsessive technical precision Calm under external pressure (melts down internally instead) Fiercely loyal once trust is earned Work ethic bordering on self-destruction Capable of surprising gentleness in private moments Deep respect for craft and tradition Quietly protective of those he sees as “his people”
Weaknesses: Ferocious temper in the kitchen Emotionally shut down Perfectionist to a damaging degree Uses harshness as control Struggles with authority Sleeps little, drinks too much Avoids connection by burying himself in his work Can humiliate staff in the name of standards
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Bio: Jaxson Mercer entered his family business young. Moving through each part of the French Brigade. By his late twenties, he was already marked as one to watch, technically gifted, relentless, always composed.
And then he met her. She wasn’t from the industry. She didn’t care about spices, reductions or guidebooks. She reminded him that there was life beyond the restaurant. She softened him, just enough that people in the kitchen began to see flashes of someone warmer beneath the discipline. He proposed and she accepted but six months later, she died in an accident on her way home from the restaurant. A night he needed to stay longer to do the work.
The star came the year after and his kitchen has become known for two things: Uncompromisingly beautiful food (taste and appearance) An unforgiving kitchen.
Staff turnover is high. Standards are brutal. His temper is infamous. But the dining room stays full because of his precision, his fury, and the endless pursuit of perfection.
Article from Best of Food Jaxson Mercer cemented his place in the Vancouver food scene as the executive chef at the local Yaletown restaurant, Memory Street Bistro. Moving up the line in his family business, Jaxson has learned his craft well and after competing in Top Chef Canada, returned as one of Canada's up and coming chefs to look out for. After serving up modern Canadian food as pleasing to the eyes as the taste buds Jaxson has branched off from the family business and moved to one of our favourite restaurants, Hive.
Mercer refers to his own cooking style as "Modern Canadian" and he serves up dishes like side stripe prawns, grilled lamb neck and chocolate covered chicken skin. A rare treat you must try before you leave this earth. Modern is a good way to describe everything Mercer does. Hive is a sweet treat of a restaurant featuring decor that is both modern and eclectic, warm and appealing. Mercer's attention to detail in taste and appearance might be the reason he might just be the one most followed chefs on Instagram sharing beautiful overhead shots of incredible looking food on a weekly basis.
The copy of “Of Mice and Men” had been a gift, one that had unintentionally haunted him for years.
Lying in his bed, wrapped in an invisible blanket of morning heat, Elias stared at the leather-bound copy of Steinbeck’s classic. Sick in a hospital bed, his ailing father had given it to him one week before his passing, and still, years later, the book evoked feelings that Steinbeck had never imagined, a weight that Elias couldn’t seem to shake.
Sitting up, Elias reached out to the white IKEA Billy bookcase standing beside his bed and tugged the novella free from its resting place between a hardly used copy of The Elements of Style by EB White and William Strunk Jr., and the twice-read The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas, one of too many books banned here in North Dakota schools.
Opening the front cover, he read the words his father had carefully penned. He huffed silently, knowing Thomas Petterson had never read the book, never remembered the quote his son tried too often to explain. “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” It was ironic that that famous quote from his favourite book in high school had become the words which would exemplify his life, maybe even one day be engraved onto his own tombstone and final resting place.
Eli knew that the casual observer who might read the inscription would judge his father to be a good man, proud, loving, salt of the earth.
My dear son Elias,
When faced with the choice of being a mouse or a man, you have always been a man, making me proud in everything you do. Your father, in life and death,
Thomas Rowan Petterson
But it was the lines he had scribbled onto the carefully folded paper tucked somewhere in chapter three that usually left Elias angry, sad, or filled with a range of emotions somewhere between one and the other.
Elias, I am truly proud of you and respect your decision to go to college. You will become the first in our family to graduate with a degree and the first to avoid both the mills and the mines. I have always tried to be a good man, but like so many men before me, I have failed in private much more than in public. You have always been there for your mother and your sister, especially when I was unable, and when I am gone, I want you to be there for them, the man I could never be. I pray that when the time comes, you will do better than me, for your mother, your sister, and the family that you will one day have.
Elias held the paper between his fingers and brushed his thumb against the crease lines that had worn soft with time. The words read like an apology but felt more like an expectation, a sentencing to an unseen prison that the young teacher would read time and time again.
Exhaling softly, Elias cursed the heat that filled the room, and although the temperature in the yard hadn’t reached 70ºF yet, the temperature inside was hotter than outside. The old AC unit, which came with the rental, had died a few days earlier, and although Amazon Prime promised next-day delivery, nothing had shown up on the porch, and the last delivery update said the unit was on its way from Asheville, the same as it had said two, then three days before. When the power went out, the stand-up fans stood like stationary flamingos, doing absolutely nothing to remove the stale hot air from his place.
Flipping over his phone and looking at the time, Elias saw the text from the head coach.
Football practice cancelled.
Then another.
Coaches meeting Huskers 2 p.m.
Expected temperatures were too high, and without power, there was no way for the players to cool off. Without refrigerators and running freezers, there was no ice to cool off the water, no ice packs for injuries, and the expensive cold gel packs were saved for games.
Inhaling deeply, Elias closed his eyes and felt his chest tighten. He had been back for months now, the prodigal son returning to Pines Holler, but he had been lying low, trying to avoid the people he had seen before he had left for college, every person to whom he had declared he would get his degree and move to the city. Maybe Raleigh, maybe Bismarck, who knows, maybe even somewhere out of state. He sighed softly and shook his head. “Yeah, the best laid plans of mice and men.”
With the mid-year retirement of Ms. Hilda Jenkins, the principal’s wife and lone English teacher at Pines Holler, Elias had come home to the town he thought he left forever when his mother’s arthritic bones had started acting up and his younger sister, Lila, had buggered off again and was spending more time on someone else’s couch than she was at the family home. The vice-principal had reached out to his mom, asked if Elias would be coming back, and although he was reluctant, the promise of a salary for a new teacher without a job was something he couldn’t turn down.
Finally rolling out of bed, Elias scrolled through his phone, checking his social media accounts and avoiding the emails that were usually nothing more than spam or alumni news. After the obligatory text to his mom and her standard reply, “Go have fun, don’t worry about me,” Elias dragged his feet, poked around the house, and finally pulled on his faded jeans and his favourite gray T-shirt. something other than the briefs he had worn to bed the night before.
Not thrilled with the prospect of a midday meeting at Pine Holler’s favourite bar and grill, Eli took his time. It wasn’t Huskers itself that bothered him. On a Monday night, when the establishment sat half-empty and quiet, he might have gone without thinking twice. But this was different. Huskers in the middle of summer, with the power out? The whole town would be there, everyone he had spent months avoiding.
And Elias didn’t want the questions.
Why’d you come back?
Thought you were getting out.
Didn’t you say you were done with this place?
He’d said all of that and meant it, too. After shaking the dust off his boots like it was something symbolic and final, Elias had said goodbye to the town, his family, and the friends he had grown up with since birth. He had promised anyone who would listen that he wasn’t coming back. And now here he was, back on the same street, in the same heat, driving the same roads like nothing had ever changed… nothing except him.
Driving through town in his dad’s old, battered black Dodge Ram 1500, Elias couldn’t help but notice the emptiness, the lack of movement, with only waves of heat shimmering upward off the hot summer road. Heading down Main Street and glancing forward, then right and left, Elias breathed in and something caught in his chest. Nothing had really changed, not in any substantial way. Since last summer, one or two stores now stood vacant, empty buildings with competing signs pasted on the windows: For Rent or For Sale. Take Occupancy Now. Pines Holler residents were always hopeful someone might set up shop, some fool might take interest in the town that was slowly dying, but other than real estate developers or surveyors, it seemed no one was coming. No one except him.
Slowing down for the two locals crossing the road, he gazed out the truck window and recognized the law office where Callie Shaw was working. Other than a nod and a quick wave from his pick-up truck, he hadn’t talked to her since his return, but the woman was unmistakable ... hippie goth, flowing skirts, jewellery dangling from her neck and wrists, and rings on her fingers. While her father was trying to find housing for souls in heaven, Callie was more practical, helping locals find affordable housing here on earth, mainly around town.
Nearing the bar and grill, Elias took a look at the parking lot as he drove closer. Most of the spots were already taken, and the only ones left were farthest away from the doors. Recognizing some of the cars from school, he could see that most of the coaching staff had arrived, and Mr. Robert Jenkins, the principal, must have already been there for hours; his car was up front, only a couple of stalls from the entrance of Huskers. Having seen the way Jenkins schmoozed and worked the system, Elias was surprised the principal and coach hadn’t had his name painted on the concrete with “RESERVED” written underneath.
Parking far from the entrance and out near the chain-link fence at the back, Elias stepped out of the car, and the hot air surrounded him again. It wasn’t more than a couple hundred steps, but in the midday heat, each step felt like two, and if he wasn’t used to the heat after close to thirty summers in Pines Holler, he was sure he’d be sweating.
Pulling the door open, Elias felt a gust of cold air slap at his face, and for the first time in days, he took a deep breath and felt a sense of cool relief. Standing inside, Elias glanced at the faces at the tables and the others serving them food. He knew Lucas from around town but had never really gotten to know him. He frowned when he saw Dallas’s ex-boyfriend, Valen. He had heard the rumours going around town about the Cop, but it was his own history with Dal made it hard to like the guy. When he saw Anna Lou standing near the bar, Elias actually smiled. He remembered her, dark hair, big brown eyes, one of the few people everyone liked back in high school. He’d been no different.
“Coach,” a loud voice boomed, interrupting his thoughts. And when he looked to the sound, Principal Jenkins was calling him over with a nod. With Jenkins sat the four other coaches, and even though he was out of the midday heat, Elias felt like he had moved straight from the frying pan and into something worse.
Being a boy who loved summer adventures, I want in on this one.
If you're looking for some ideas ... group of boys at summer camp, or holidays, make up the legend of the haunted island. Their summer is spent trying to find a way to get to the island that is too far to reach by swimming.
Group of boys spend time trying to help one of their friends trying to get to some otehr town to find his first love.
Can never say no to a good treasure hunt
Summer of Dares ... climb to the top of the water tower, swim across the leech-filled pond, sneak into the neighbourhood haunted house, and on and on
Brayden had started to make his way toward the strange proprietor of the shop when, again, he noticed the mirror emit the dim, luminescent glow he had seen earlier. It caught his attention from the corner of his eye, but this time the light seemed to linger a moment, then two, longer than before. He stopped to study it, but seeing the young woman watching it too, he didn’t stare any longer, not wanting her to think his focus was on her.
Although his curiosity was piqued, Brayden turned back to Imp. He saw the man still trying to usher out the teens, and when the owner of the shop opened the door to shoo them out, Brayden heard the sound of dogs barking and immediately knew it was his two best friends, Scooby and Doo, making the noise, begging for his return. Giving up his turn to speak to the impish man, Brayden headed outside and walked over to his SUV.
“Scooby, Doo, quiet, boys,” he pleaded, but the two dogs seemed anxious and relentless, and when he opened the door to calm them down, the two black Labs scampered out of the car and waited eagerly at his feet. Tongues lolling from their mouths, Brayden scratched each of the dogs at the base of their ears and then leaned into the car and grabbed each of their leads.
It was a quick stroll down the road as the veterinarian let the dogs sniff at each lamp post and raise their back legs at fences. With their red leashes hanging loosely between his fist and their collars, Brayden let the dogs stretch their legs before they had to head back to the car. Reaching the intersection one block down, Brayden gave a gentle tug on each lead and quietly muttered, “Stop,” then, “Turn.”
Well-behaved and quick, the dogs turned and headed back. As they approached Intriguingly’s Emporium, Scooby pulled toward the shop and Doo toward the car. Still interested in speaking to the owner and learning more about the skeletal remains in the shop, Brayden followed his dog and pulled the other with them.
Looking at the shop windows and the entrance to the store, there were no bylaw regulations posted, no fines threatened, or warnings against dogs. So, opening the door, Brayden walked inside and called out, “Do you mind if I bring my dogs inside?”
Not hearing yes and definitely not hearing no, Brayden stepped inside the shop and looked for the strange man. In his garish outfit, Imp was easy to spot, but now he had retreated to the back of the emporium and was chatting with the girl by the mirror. After turning back to look at the front window display, Brayden spotted the skeletal creature that caught his attention, the one that had lured him into the store.
Looking back toward Imp, who was clearly busy with the girl, the doctor breathed in deeply, then sighed. Stepping into the window display, Brayden reached out to pull at the display when he felt a sudden tug at his arms.
Scooby was already growling and pulling away. Doo was whimpering more quietly but tugging just as hard. As if they sensed some danger, some power, or the need to protect, both dogs pulled hard together, and the young doctor was tossed off his feet. Tripping over a box, then landing on his face, Brayden lost his grip on the leashes, and the dogs were now free in the store.
Always the protector and braver of the two, Scooby stayed by his side, but Doo had run off into the store. Worried about his one dog running free, Brayden grabbed the leash of his protector, then brushed off his hands and rose to his feet.
“Doo,” he called out in his loudest whisper. “Come here, boy.”
When the younger dog stayed hidden somewhere else in the store, Brayden began his search, which was over in a second or two.
Lying only ten, maybe fifteen paces away, his smaller black Lab had taken refuge at the feet of another girl in the shop, this one with black hair, mid-twenties or so, a large cross on her chest.
Hey Ricky, just letting you and the others know I will have a post up tomorrow (Friday). Determined to get something posted before two more of our friends ;)
Face Claim ... Kyle Chandler || Colour Code #0C823D
Full Name: Robert Matthew Jenkins
Nickname(s): Rob — used only by old friends and former teammates. Coach Jenkins — by players, parents, and townsfolk trying to stay in his good graces. Mr. Jerkins — by students. Usually whispered. The Principal — said with equal parts respect and resentment around Pines Holler.
Age: Fifty-eight // Capricorn // January 8th
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Straight
Occupation: Principal of Pines Holler High School Head Football Coach
Place of Residence: Large two-story home on the north side of Pines Holler overlooking the old mill road. One of the nicer older homes in town on Miner’s Road.
Family and Close Connections:
Wife: Hilda Jenkins || Age 56 || Former English Teacher at Pines Holler High || Recently retired due to chronic illness ||
Children: None. There are whispers and suggestions he may have some, not with his wife.
Close Connections: Town council members. Former players now working in construction, law enforcement, county politics, and local business. Several members of the school board owe him favors. Some developers and regional investors.
Enemies: More than he realizes. None that worry him.
Appearance: Height: Six feet, two inches. Build: Broad shouldered and strong chest from decades of coaching and carrying himself like the biggest man in every room. Age has added some weight to his mid-section but he is still physically imposing. Hair: Steel gray, kept short. Eyes: Cold blue. Facial Hair: Mostly clean shaven except on weekends or during the summer.
Clothing Style: Pressed button-down shirts. Letterman jackets on game nights. Leather belts and polished boots. Everything about him says small-town authority.
Body Markings: Old football injury scar along his left knee. Wedding ring rarely removed despite his extracurricular behavior. Usually smells faintly of aftershave, coffee, and cigar smoke.
Personality: Authoritarian Charismatic when he wants to be. Politically calculating. Prideful. Vindictive. Protective of his image above all else.
Quietly misogynistic Believes loyalty matters more than morality. Often sees kindness as weakness Jenkins has mastered the art of appearing respectable. Parents love him. School board members praise him. Local reporters have describes him as a “dedicated educator” and “a pillar of the community.” He remembers names. Helps organize fundraisers. Pays for equipment out of pocket when it benefits his reputation. Shows up to funerals. Gives speeches about hard work and community
History:
Born in Pines Holler during the final years of the town’s prosperity, Robert Jenkins grew up playing football, attending church services and church suppers.
His father worked at the mill and coached peewee football on weekends. His mother taught Sunday school and spent most of her life smiling quietly beside her husband, brother-in-law and father-in-law. Robert inherited the discipline of his father and the family expectation that women and those not in charge should be meek and preferably quiet.
Football became his escape and his passion. By his senior year, Robert Jenkins was Pines Holler’s golden boy. Quarterback. Homecoming king. The young man everyone expected to leave town and become something bigger. A knee injury during his sophomore year of college killed any lingering fantasy of professional football and he shifted toward education instead, earning his degree before returning home to a place where he could still be important.
With the help of his own coaches and former principal, Jenkins climbed through the school system quickly. Teacher, athletic coordinator, vice principal, then principal before forty. Along the way he built relationships with county officials, developers, former players, businessmen, and politicians. Some legitimate. Some less so.
For nearly twenty years now, Robert Jenkins has ruled Pines Holler High with a practiced smile, a biting tongue and an iron grip.
Teachers who challenge him rarely last long. Students who embarrass the school punished harder than others. Athletes receive preferential treatment. Always. Girls quickly learn which comments are meant to be swallowed and which doors never to walk through alone. LGBTQ and other marginalized students know better than to expect protection from him.
His wife Hilda’s illness only intensified his worse traits. As her condition worsened Robert grew more restless, angry and reckless. He buried himself in work, football, late nights, and the attention of younger women (and new graduates) who made him feel admired instead of helpless.
Extra Facts // Headcanons:
Thoughts on Development - Now, with developers visiting Pines Holler daily, Robert sees opportunity. New money. New facilities. New influence. If old homes and the trailer park disappear, so be it. If a few stubborn locals need pressure applied to get out of the way, Robert knows plenty of men willing to make uncomfortable conversations happen.
• Keeps a flask in the bottom drawer of his office desk. • Has a habit of standing too close during conversations as a dominance tactic. • Calls female teachers “sweetheart,” “darling,” or “honey” regardless of their unease or protests. • Still watches recordings of old football games from the town’s glory years. Happy to talk about those days with those willing to listen • Has covered up multiple incidents involving star athletes over the years. • Maintains an image of religious respectability despite breaking nearly every moral principle he preaches. • An amazing memory, especially for those who owe him favours. • There are whispers that Jenkins has hired former players and local roughnecks to intimidate people standing in the way of development deals. Nobody has ever proven it.
Sounds interesting but ... (playing devil's advocate) if these people do not have television and are isolated from other communities how do they know television exists. Having never seen TV how will they know what types of shows to create and does this town, being so far off the grid, have electricity?
The voice wasn’t loud, but Brayden turned to the sound, thinking the question was directed at him. Catching sight of the voice’s owner, the veterinarian’s jaw dropped. Dressed in a top hat and a suit that Charles Dickens, or some 19th-century nobleman, might wear, the man had ashen skin and yellow, bloodshot eyes. Thinking this person was some antique store ghost, or maybe a mascot or some strange live performance, Brayden watched, waiting to see what would happen next.
With a hooked nose and bony fingers, the ghost of a man was focused on a younger man who could not have been more different. Well-dressed and confident, the younger person was the type Brayden often saw walking around the city, taking selfies in strange places and making sure every food they ate was recorded and posted online. For a second, he laughed, thinking about the social media influencer who had come into his clinic and wanted to post a TikTok video of Brayden and him saving a cat… reminding people that every cat has nine lives… something like that.
Before the younger man could reply to the ghost, a crash exploded from across the dark and dusty store, and the strange man began to shuffle off, muttering under his breath.
“Oh, oh dear! Are you alright? Oh, now you know why there was a sign to ‘ask for assistance’; we’ve learned something today…”
Interrupted by the events that had just unfolded, Brayden looked away from the man and noticed the others in the store. There was a girl, late teens, early twenties, with a skateboard rolling at her feet, a smile on her face. She was walking by the tall, ornate stand-up mirror off to the side, and when Brayden saw it begin to glow, he couldn’t help but think that this, like the man, was just one more antique store gimmick. Off to the right and standing by another shelf stood another shopper: a pretty woman with black hair and big, bright eyes. She had looked at the strange man too, but now her focus was back on the old music box resting in her hands.
Turning back to the tall shelf in front of him, Brayden began picking carefully through the implements one by one. Antique scalpels, bone saws, clamps, these were the things of old veterinary kits, outdated and worn but still very useful, dangerous in the wrong hands. Looking at the shelf above, there were stranger and more bizarre objects: glass jars with preserved specimens, organs, small animals things that didn’t quite match any known anatomy he had studied.
Curious about almost every item on the shelves, Brayden looked up for the strange character and called out,
“Excuse me. Can someone help?”
Seeing the man focused on the cleanup on the other side of the store, Brayden began walking toward him, a dozen or more questions already in his head.
[color=#DCD9D0]Call me Stryder, call me Brodie, your choice. I have been roleplaying for a few years starting in the time of the great pandemic. I have discovered I am a bit of a chameleon, always trying to match the length and style of my roleplaying partners.
Starting in the dark days of Omegle, I discovered that there were people interested in stories with a plot and something long term. Since then I have moved on, and hopefully forward, from one paragraph writing to multi-paragraph pieces that are carefully written and actually proofread.
I am just beginning to figure out the multi-character role play but in the past only focused on 1 to 1. In that style, I (we) have written role plays that have been slice of life, fantasy, dystopian, and more. The story has always been important, and the slow burning romance more valued than something quick and messy. As one partner likes to say ... substance over smut.
I have a few role plays going on with different partners but I am always up to meet new people, exchange ideas and create new stories. If you are interested send me a message here or we can chat more in Discord (just send me your details and we can connect).
[/color]
Current Characters ...
[hider=Elias Rowan Petterson - Coach/Teach]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/laMrgsF.jpeg[/img]
Face Claim ...Ryan Kwanten
[color=00aeef]Full Name:[/color]
Elias Rowan Petterson
[color=00aeef]Nickname(s):[/color]
Eli – what most people call him.
Rowan – used by old friends or when things get serious.
Coach – what some of the kids have started calling him, whether he likes it or not.
[color=00aeef]Age:[/color] Twenty-eight ... Scorpio ... November 3rd
[color=00aeef]Gender:[/color] Male
[color=00aeef]Sexuality:[/color] Straight (though not rigid about it—he’s more about connection than labels, even if he doesn’t say that out loud).
[color=00aeef]Occupation:[/color] High School English Teacher
Assistant Football Coach (unofficial, inevitable in a town like this)
[color=00aeef]Place of Residence:[/color] Small rented house on the edge of Pines Holler, one of the last houses on Miners Road
[color=00aeef]Family and Close Connections:[/color]
Mother: Diane Mercer - Age 54 - Former waitress, now works part-time at the local diner.
Father: Thomas Mercer |- Deceased - Former mill worker.
Younger Sister: Lila Mercer - Age 22 - Left town, limited contact.
Friends: A few from high school still around, though most relationships are surface-level now.
Significant Other: None. Complicated history. Keeps people at arm’s length.
Most of the town went through the same high school ...
Remembers Callie, Mollie, Estrella, Anna Lou and Virginia
They were younger but remembers Jules, Noah, Zoey and Ellie
Now teaching some of Jule's Emerson's Siblings
[color=00aeef]Appearance:[/color]
Height: Six feet, one inch.
Build: Broad-shouldered, solid. Strong without trying to be. Looks like someone who grew up working with his hands because he did.
Hair: Light to Medium brown, usually a little too long on top, falls into his eyes when he hasn’t bothered to cut it.
Eyes: Grey-blue. Usually tired
Facial Hair: Keeps a short beard or stubble most of the time.
[color=00aeef]Clothing Style:[/color]
Practical, worn-in, quietly intentional. Flannels, henleys, denim jackets, boots that have seen years of use. Nothing flashy, but everything fits him well.
He cleans up better than people expect when he needs to. button-down, sleeves rolled up.
[color=00aeef]Body Markings:[/color]
Faded scar along his right forearm from a childhood accident.
Small tattoo on his ribs—Roman numerals (his father’s birthday). Rarely seen, rarely talked about.
[color=00aeef]Personality:[/color]
Steady and patient, with a dry sense of humor. After years with a father who drank too much and had a temper when drunk, Elias become protective of his family and was always loyal to friends and family.
Quietly intense, and observant, usually picks up on things others miss, aware of those situations that can turn ugly. Stubborn but calm, not loud. Eli always comes across as dependable, the kind of guy you trust without thinking about it. He shows up. He does the work. He listens more than he speaks.
After leaving his mom and sister to go to college, carries a lot of guilt he doesn’t talk about. Another layer underneath it all, he’s restless. Never content, never happy with himself or his relationships. Struggles with letting people truly know him. There’s a weight to him with a sense that he’s both exactly where he belongs but somehow hates it and feels trapped by it.
[color=00aeef]History:[/color]
Born and raised in Pines Holler, Eli grew up on the edge of everything, the edge of town, the edge of poverty, the edge of a family that was always one bad month away from falling apart.
His father worked long hours at the mill, coming home tired, quiet, and often drinking more than he should. Dad was usually a good man but when he drank, which only got worse with age, more yelling, more anger. His mother held things together as best she could, stretching paychecks and patience in as many ways as possible.
Eli learned early how to be the “easy one.” Hardly ever in trouble.
Good in school. Helpful. Invisible when it mattered but always there for anyone and everyone.
Football gave him an outlet. English gave him a voice he didn’t use outside the classroom. One teacher, someone who saw something in him, pushed him toward college. Told him he could be more than what Pines Holler expected of him. So he left to go to the state university and got his degree in English and Education.
Always been the guy who kept his head down and did everything right but always watched and maybe wanted to be with those who didn’t.
And wanted to get away but still… he came back.
Now he teaches kids back in the high school he had once been a student at, kids who remind him of himself. Watches them sit in the same desks, make the same choices, carry the same weight and often more.
[color=00aeef]Extra Facts // Headcanons:[/color]
• Drinks more than he lets on. Not out of control but enough that it’s a habit, not a choice.
• Late nights are his worst enemy. That’s when the thoughts get loud, that;’s when the self-loathing and doubts kick in.,
• Reads constantly but scrolls even more.
• Has a soft spot for music he won’t admit to liking,old country, acoustic, anything a little raw.
• Fixes things around his house himself, even when it would be easier not to.
• Keeps his father’s old lighter, even though he quit smoking cigarettes years ago.
• Struggles with anger. Always close to the edge, worried about breaking. IN class it comes out quiet, tight jaw, controlled voice, hands clenched just out of sight.
• Doesn’t believe he’s the “good man” people think he is, but tries to be anyway. Hates that he doesn't meet the standard he believes he should.
• Has a habit of showing up for people without being asked… and disappearing when they get too close.
• Still hasn’t decided if coming back to Pines Holler was the right choice. Publicly complains about the developers, privately wants them to tear everything down and give him a "good" reason to get out of this town.
[/hider]
[hider=Chef Jaxson Mercer]
Name: Jaxson Mercer
Profession: Head Chef of a Michelin-Starred Restaurant
Age:32
Height: 6’1”
Build: Lean, strong, narrow waist, strong forearms, broad shoulders.
Strengths:
Brilliant palate and obsessive technical precision
Calm under external pressure (melts down internally instead)
Fiercely loyal once trust is earned
Work ethic bordering on self-destruction
Capable of surprising gentleness in private moments
Deep respect for craft and tradition
Quietly protective of those he sees as “his people”
Weaknesses:
Ferocious temper in the kitchen
Emotionally shut down
Perfectionist to a damaging degree
Uses harshness as control
Struggles with authority
Sleeps little, drinks too much
Avoids connection by burying himself in his work
Can humiliate staff in the name of standards
---
Bio:
Jaxson Mercer entered his family business young. Moving through each part of the French Brigade. By his late twenties, he was already marked as one to watch, technically gifted, relentless, always composed.
And then he met her. She wasn’t from the industry. She didn’t care about spices, reductions or guidebooks. She reminded him that there was life beyond the restaurant. She softened him, just enough that people in the kitchen began to see flashes of someone warmer beneath the discipline. He proposed and she accepted but six months later, she died in an accident on her way home from the restaurant. A night he needed to stay longer to do the work.
The star came the year after and his kitchen has become known for two things:
Uncompromisingly beautiful food (taste and appearance)
An unforgiving kitchen.
Staff turnover is high. Standards are brutal. His temper is infamous.
But the dining room stays full because of his precision, his fury, and the endless pursuit of perfection.
[b]Article from Best of Food [/b]
Jaxson Mercer cemented his place in the Vancouver food scene as the executive chef at the local Yaletown restaurant, Memory Street Bistro. Moving up the line in his family business, Jaxson has learned his craft well and after competing in Top Chef Canada, returned as one of Canada's up and coming chefs to look out for. After serving up modern Canadian food as pleasing to the eyes as the taste buds Jaxson has branched off from the family business and moved to one of our favourite restaurants, Hive.
Mercer refers to his own cooking style as "Modern Canadian" and he serves up dishes like side stripe prawns, grilled lamb neck and chocolate covered chicken skin. A rare treat you must try before you leave this earth. Modern is a good way to describe everything Mercer does. Hive is a sweet treat of a restaurant featuring decor that is both modern and eclectic, warm and appealing. Mercer's attention to detail in taste and appearance might be the reason he might just be the one most followed chefs on Instagram sharing beautiful overhead shots of incredible looking food on a weekly basis.
[/hider]
Writing Sample
[hider=Elias | Of Mice and Men]
[center][url=https://fontmeme.com/calligraphy-fonts/][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/260429/632099ae.png[/img][/url][/center]
[center] [img]https://i.imgur.com/MEf0T10.jpeg[/img] [/center]
[color=00aeef][center][b]Interacting with[/b]: none [b]. Mentions[/b]: Callie, Dallas, Valen, Anna Lou (Lucas – NPC) [b]. Location[/b]: His House, Downtown Pines Holler, Huskers[/center][/color]
The copy of “Of Mice and Men” had been a gift, one that had unintentionally haunted him for years.
Lying in his bed, wrapped in an invisible blanket of morning heat, Elias stared at the leather-bound copy of Steinbeck’s classic. Sick in a hospital bed, his ailing father had given it to him one week before his passing, and still, years later, the book evoked feelings that Steinbeck had never imagined, a weight that Elias couldn’t seem to shake.
Sitting up, Elias reached out to the white IKEA Billy bookcase standing beside his bed and tugged the novella free from its resting place between a hardly used copy of The Elements of Style by EB White and William Strunk Jr., and the twice-read The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas, one of too many books banned here in North Dakota schools.
Opening the front cover, he read the words his father had carefully penned. He huffed silently, knowing Thomas Petterson had never read the book, never remembered the quote his son tried too often to explain. “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” It was ironic that that famous quote from his favourite book in high school had become the words which would exemplify his life, maybe even one day be engraved onto his own tombstone and final resting place.
Eli knew that the casual observer who might read the inscription would judge his father to be a good man, proud, loving, salt of the earth.
[quote][color=00aeef]My dear son Elias,
When faced with the choice of being a mouse or a man, you have always been a man, making me proud in everything you do.
Your father, in life and death,
Thomas Rowan Petterson[/color][/quote]
But it was the lines he had scribbled onto the carefully folded paper tucked somewhere in chapter three that usually left Elias angry, sad, or filled with a range of emotions somewhere between one and the other.
[quote][color=00aeef]Elias, I am truly proud of you and respect your decision to go to college. You will become the first in our family to graduate with a degree and the first to avoid both the mills and the mines. I have always tried to be a good man, but like so many men before me, I have failed in private much more than in public. You have always been there for your mother and your sister, especially when I was unable, and when I am gone, I want you to be there for them, the man I could never be. I pray that when the time comes, you will do better than me, for your mother, your sister, and the family that you will one day have.[/color][/quote]
Elias held the paper between his fingers and brushed his thumb against the crease lines that had worn soft with time. The words read like an apology but felt more like an expectation, a sentencing to an unseen prison that the young teacher would read time and time again.
Exhaling softly, Elias cursed the heat that filled the room, and although the temperature in the yard hadn’t reached 70ºF yet, the temperature inside was hotter than outside. The old AC unit, which came with the rental, had died a few days earlier, and although Amazon Prime promised next-day delivery, nothing had shown up on the porch, and the last delivery update said the unit was on its way from Asheville, the same as it had said two, then three days before. When the power went out, the stand-up fans stood like stationary flamingos, doing absolutely nothing to remove the stale hot air from his place.
Flipping over his phone and looking at the time, Elias saw the text from the head coach.
[color=00aeef]Football practice cancelled.[/color]
Then another.
[color=00aeef]Coaches meeting Huskers 2 p.m.[/color]
Expected temperatures were too high, and without power, there was no way for the players to cool off. Without refrigerators and running freezers, there was no ice to cool off the water, no ice packs for injuries, and the expensive cold gel packs were saved for games.
Inhaling deeply, Elias closed his eyes and felt his chest tighten. He had been back for months now, the prodigal son returning to Pines Holler, but he had been lying low, trying to avoid the people he had seen before he had left for college, every person to whom he had declared he would get his degree and move to the city. Maybe Raleigh, maybe Bismarck, who knows, maybe even somewhere out of state. He sighed softly and shook his head. “Yeah, the best laid plans of mice and men.”
With the mid-year retirement of Ms. Hilda Jenkins, the principal’s wife and lone English teacher at Pines Holler, Elias had come home to the town he thought he left forever when his mother’s arthritic bones had started acting up and his younger sister, Lila, had buggered off again and was spending more time on someone else’s couch than she was at the family home. The vice-principal had reached out to his mom, asked if Elias would be coming back, and although he was reluctant, the promise of a salary for a new teacher without a job was something he couldn’t turn down.
Finally rolling out of bed, Elias scrolled through his phone, checking his social media accounts and avoiding the emails that were usually nothing more than spam or alumni news. After the obligatory text to his mom and her standard reply, “Go have fun, don’t worry about me,” Elias dragged his feet, poked around the house, and finally pulled on his faded jeans and his favourite gray T-shirt. something other than the briefs he had worn to bed the night before.
Not thrilled with the prospect of a midday meeting at Pine Holler’s favourite bar and grill, Eli took his time. It wasn’t Huskers itself that bothered him. On a Monday night, when the establishment sat half-empty and quiet, he might have gone without thinking twice. But this was different. Huskers in the middle of summer, with the power out? The whole town would be there, everyone he had spent months avoiding.
And Elias didn’t want the questions.
[quote][color=00aeef]Why’d you come back?
Thought you were getting out.
Didn’t you say you were done with this place?[/color][/quote]
He’d said all of that and meant it, too. After shaking the dust off his boots like it was something symbolic and final, Elias had said goodbye to the town, his family, and the friends he had grown up with since birth. He had promised anyone who would listen that he wasn’t coming back. And now here he was, back on the same street, in the same heat, driving the same roads like nothing had ever changed… nothing except him.
Driving through town in his dad’s old, battered black Dodge Ram 1500, Elias couldn’t help but notice the emptiness, the lack of movement, with only waves of heat shimmering upward off the hot summer road. Heading down Main Street and glancing forward, then right and left, Elias breathed in and something caught in his chest. Nothing had really changed, not in any substantial way. Since last summer, one or two stores now stood vacant, empty buildings with competing signs pasted on the windows: For Rent or For Sale. Take Occupancy Now. Pines Holler residents were always hopeful someone might set up shop, some fool might take interest in the town that was slowly dying, but other than real estate developers or surveyors, it seemed no one was coming. No one except him.
Slowing down for the two locals crossing the road, he gazed out the truck window and recognized the law office where Callie Shaw was working. Other than a nod and a quick wave from his pick-up truck, he hadn’t talked to her since his return, but the woman was unmistakable ... hippie goth, flowing skirts, jewellery dangling from her neck and wrists, and rings on her fingers. While her father was trying to find housing for souls in heaven, Callie was more practical, helping locals find affordable housing here on earth, mainly around town.
Nearing the bar and grill, Elias took a look at the parking lot as he drove closer. Most of the spots were already taken, and the only ones left were farthest away from the doors. Recognizing some of the cars from school, he could see that most of the coaching staff had arrived, and Mr. Robert Jenkins, the principal, must have already been there for hours; his car was up front, only a couple of stalls from the entrance of Huskers. Having seen the way Jenkins schmoozed and worked the system, Elias was surprised the principal and coach hadn’t had his name painted on the concrete with “RESERVED” written underneath.
Parking far from the entrance and out near the chain-link fence at the back, Elias stepped out of the car, and the hot air surrounded him again. It wasn’t more than a couple hundred steps, but in the midday heat, each step felt like two, and if he wasn’t used to the heat after close to thirty summers in Pines Holler, he was sure he’d be sweating.
Pulling the door open, Elias felt a gust of cold air slap at his face, and for the first time in days, he took a deep breath and felt a sense of cool relief. Standing inside, Elias glanced at the faces at the tables and the others serving them food. He knew Lucas from around town but had never really gotten to know him. He frowned when he saw Dallas’s ex-boyfriend, Valen. He had heard the rumours going around town about the Cop, but it was his own history with Dal made it hard to like the guy. When he saw Anna Lou standing near the bar, Elias actually smiled. He remembered her, dark hair, big brown eyes, one of the few people everyone liked back in high school. He’d been no different.
[color=00aeef]“Coach,”[/color] a loud voice boomed, interrupting his thoughts. And when he looked to the sound, Principal Jenkins was calling him over with a nod. With Jenkins sat the four other coaches, and even though he was out of the midday heat, Elias felt like he had moved straight from the frying pan and into something worse.
[/hider]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><font color="#dcd9d0">Call me Stryder, call me Brodie, your choice. I have been roleplaying for a few years starting in the time of the great pandemic. I have discovered I am a bit of a chameleon, always trying to match the length and style of my roleplaying partners. <br><br>Starting in the dark days of Omegle, I discovered that there were people interested in stories with a plot and something long term. Since then I have moved on, and hopefully forward, from one paragraph writing to multi-paragraph pieces that are carefully written and actually proofread. <br><br>I am just beginning to figure out the multi-character role play but in the past only focused on 1 to 1. In that style, I (we) have written role plays that have been slice of life, fantasy, dystopian, and more. The story has always been important, and the slow burning romance more valued than something quick and messy. As one partner likes to say ... substance over smut.<br><br>I have a few role plays going on with different partners but I am always up to meet new people, exchange ideas and create new stories. If you are interested send me a message here or we can chat more in Discord (just send me your details and we can connect).</font><br><br>Current Characters ...<br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Elias Rowan Petterson - Coach/Teach">Elias Rowan Petterson - Coach/Teach [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/laMrgsF.jpeg" /><br>Face Claim ...Ryan Kwanten<br><br><font color="#00aeef">Full Name:</font><br>Elias Rowan Petterson<br><font color="#00aeef">Nickname(s):</font><br>Eli – what most people call him.<br>Rowan – used by old friends or when things get serious.<br>Coach – what some of the kids have started calling him, whether he likes it or not.<br><br><font color="#00aeef">Age:</font> Twenty-eight ... Scorpio ... November 3rd<br><br><font color="#00aeef">Gender:</font> Male<br><br><font color="#00aeef">Sexuality:</font> Straight (though not rigid about it—he’s more about connection than labels, even if he doesn’t say that out loud).<br><br><font color="#00aeef">Occupation:</font> High School English Teacher<br>Assistant Football Coach (unofficial, inevitable in a town like this)<br><br><font color="#00aeef">Place of Residence:</font> Small rented house on the edge of Pines Holler, one of the last houses on Miners Road<br><br><font color="#00aeef">Family and Close Connections:</font><br>Mother: Diane Mercer - Age 54 - Former waitress, now works part-time at the local diner.<br>Father: Thomas Mercer |- Deceased - Former mill worker.<br>Younger Sister: Lila Mercer - Age 22 - Left town, limited contact.<br>Friends: A few from high school still around, though most relationships are surface-level now.<br>Significant Other: None. Complicated history. Keeps people at arm’s length.<br><br>Most of the town went through the same high school ...<br>Remembers Callie, Mollie, Estrella, Anna Lou and Virginia<br>They were younger but remembers Jules, Noah, Zoey and Ellie<br><br>Now teaching some of Jule's Emerson's Siblings<br><br><font color="#00aeef">Appearance:</font><br>Height: Six feet, one inch.<br>Build: Broad-shouldered, solid. Strong without trying to be. Looks like someone who grew up working with his hands because he did.<br>Hair: Light to Medium brown, usually a little too long on top, falls into his eyes when he hasn’t bothered to cut it.<br>Eyes: Grey-blue. Usually tired<br>Facial Hair: Keeps a short beard or stubble most of the time.<br><br><font color="#00aeef">Clothing Style:</font><br>Practical, worn-in, quietly intentional. Flannels, henleys, denim jackets, boots that have seen years of use. Nothing flashy, but everything fits him well.<br>He cleans up better than people expect when he needs to. button-down, sleeves rolled up.<br><br><font color="#00aeef">Body Markings:</font><br>Faded scar along his right forearm from a childhood accident.<br>Small tattoo on his ribs—Roman numerals (his father’s birthday). Rarely seen, rarely talked about.<br><br><font color="#00aeef">Personality:</font><br>Steady and patient, with a dry sense of humor. After years with a father who drank too much and had a temper when drunk, Elias become protective of his family and was always loyal to friends and family.<br>Quietly intense, and observant, usually picks up on things others miss, aware of those situations that can turn ugly. Stubborn but calm, not loud. Eli always comes across as dependable, the kind of guy you trust without thinking about it. He shows up. He does the work. He listens more than he speaks.<br><br>After leaving his mom and sister to go to college, carries a lot of guilt he doesn’t talk about. Another layer underneath it all, he’s restless. Never content, never happy with himself or his relationships. Struggles with letting people truly know him. There’s a weight to him with a sense that he’s both exactly where he belongs but somehow hates it and feels trapped by it. <br><br><font color="#00aeef">History:</font><br>Born and raised in Pines Holler, Eli grew up on the edge of everything, the edge of town, the edge of poverty, the edge of a family that was always one bad month away from falling apart.<br>His father worked long hours at the mill, coming home tired, quiet, and often drinking more than he should. Dad was usually a good man but when he drank, which only got worse with age, more yelling, more anger. His mother held things together as best she could, stretching paychecks and patience in as many ways as possible. <br><br>Eli learned early how to be the “easy one.” Hardly ever in trouble.<br>Good in school. Helpful. Invisible when it mattered but always there for anyone and everyone.<br><br>Football gave him an outlet. English gave him a voice he didn’t use outside the classroom. One teacher, someone who saw something in him, pushed him toward college. Told him he could be more than what Pines Holler expected of him. So he left to go to the state university and got his degree in English and Education. <br><br>Always been the guy who kept his head down and did everything right but always watched and maybe wanted to be with those who didn’t. <br><br>And wanted to get away but still… he came back.<br><br>Now he teaches kids back in the high school he had once been a student at, kids who remind him of himself. Watches them sit in the same desks, make the same choices, carry the same weight and often more.<br><br> <br><font color="#00aeef">Extra Facts // Headcanons:</font><br>•	Drinks more than he lets on. Not out of control but enough that it’s a habit, not a choice. <br>•	Late nights are his worst enemy. That’s when the thoughts get loud, that;’s when the self-loathing and doubts kick in.,<br>•	Reads constantly but scrolls even more. <br>•	Has a soft spot for music he won’t admit to liking,old country, acoustic, anything a little raw. <br>•	Fixes things around his house himself, even when it would be easier not to. <br>•	Keeps his father’s old lighter, even though he quit smoking cigarettes years ago. <br>•	Struggles with anger. Always close to the edge, worried about breaking. IN class it comes out quiet, tight jaw, controlled voice, hands clenched just out of sight. <br>•	Doesn’t believe he’s the “good man” people think he is, but tries to be anyway. Hates that he doesn't meet the standard he believes he should.<br>•	Has a habit of showing up for people without being asked… and disappearing when they get too close. <br>•	Still hasn’t decided if coming back to Pines Holler was the right choice. Publicly complains about the developers, privately wants them to tear everything down and give him a "good" reason to get out of this town.</div></div><br><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Chef Jaxson Mercer">Chef Jaxson Mercer [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none">Name: Jaxson Mercer<br>Profession: Head Chef of a Michelin-Starred Restaurant<br>Age:32<br>Height: 6’1”<br>Build: Lean, strong, narrow waist, strong forearms, broad shoulders. <br><br>Strengths:<br><br>Brilliant palate and obsessive technical precision<br>Calm under external pressure (melts down internally instead)<br>Fiercely loyal once trust is earned<br>Work ethic bordering on self-destruction<br>Capable of surprising gentleness in private moments<br>Deep respect for craft and tradition<br>Quietly protective of those he sees as “his people”<br><br>Weaknesses:<br>Ferocious temper in the kitchen<br>Emotionally shut down<br>Perfectionist to a damaging degree<br>Uses harshness as control<br>Struggles with authority <br>Sleeps little, drinks too much<br>Avoids connection by burying himself in his work<br>Can humiliate staff in the name of standards<br><br>---<br><br>Bio:<br>Jaxson Mercer entered his family business young. Moving through each part of the French Brigade. By his late twenties, he was already marked as one to watch, technically gifted, relentless, always composed. <br><br>And then he met her. She wasn’t from the industry. She didn’t care about spices, reductions or guidebooks. She reminded him that there was life beyond the restaurant. She softened him, just enough that people in the kitchen began to see flashes of someone warmer beneath the discipline. He proposed and she accepted but six months later, she died in an accident on her way home from the restaurant. A night he needed to stay longer to do the work.<br><br>The star came the year after and his kitchen has become known for two things: <br>Uncompromisingly beautiful food (taste and appearance)<br>An unforgiving kitchen.<br><br>Staff turnover is high. Standards are brutal. His temper is infamous.<br>But the dining room stays full because of his precision, his fury, and the endless pursuit of perfection.<br><br><span class="bb-b">Article from Best of Food </span><br>Jaxson Mercer cemented his place in the Vancouver food scene as the executive chef at the local Yaletown restaurant, Memory Street Bistro. Moving up the line in his family business, Jaxson has learned his craft well and after competing in Top Chef Canada, returned as one of Canada's up and coming chefs to look out for. After serving up modern Canadian food as pleasing to the eyes as the taste buds Jaxson has branched off from the family business and moved to one of our favourite restaurants, Hive.<br><br>Mercer refers to his own cooking style as "Modern Canadian" and he serves up dishes like side stripe prawns, grilled lamb neck and chocolate covered chicken skin. A rare treat you must try before you leave this earth. Modern is a good way to describe everything Mercer does. Hive is a sweet treat of a restaurant featuring decor that is both modern and eclectic, warm and appealing. Mercer's attention to detail in taste and appearance might be the reason he might just be the one most followed chefs on Instagram sharing beautiful overhead shots of incredible looking food on a weekly basis.</div></div><br><br>Writing Sample<br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Elias | Of Mice and Men">Elias | Of Mice and Men [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none"><div class="bb-center"><a target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" href="https://fontmeme.com/calligraphy-fonts/"><img src="https://fontmeme.com/permalink/260429/632099ae.png" /></a></div> <br><br><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://i.imgur.com/MEf0T10.jpeg" /></div> <br><br><font color="#00aeef"><div class="bb-center"><span class="bb-b">Interacting with</span>: none <span class="bb-b">. Mentions</span>: Callie, Dallas, Valen, Anna Lou (Lucas – NPC) <span class="bb-b">. Location</span>: His House, Downtown Pines Holler, Huskers</div></font><br><br>The copy of “Of Mice and Men” had been a gift, one that had unintentionally haunted him for years.<br><br>Lying in his bed, wrapped in an invisible blanket of morning heat, Elias stared at the leather-bound copy of Steinbeck’s classic. Sick in a hospital bed, his ailing father had given it to him one week before his passing, and still, years later, the book evoked feelings that Steinbeck had never imagined, a weight that Elias couldn’t seem to shake.<br><br>Sitting up, Elias reached out to the white IKEA Billy bookcase standing beside his bed and tugged the novella free from its resting place between a hardly used copy of The Elements of Style by EB White and William Strunk Jr., and the twice-read The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas, one of too many books banned here in North Dakota schools.<br><br>Opening the front cover, he read the words his father had carefully penned. He huffed silently, knowing Thomas Petterson had never read the book, never remembered the quote his son tried too often to explain. “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” It was ironic that that famous quote from his favourite book in high school had become the words which would exemplify his life, maybe even one day be engraved onto his own tombstone and final resting place.<br><br>Eli knew that the casual observer who might read the inscription would judge his father to be a good man, proud, loving, salt of the earth.<br><br><blockquote class="bb-quote"><font color="#00aeef">My dear son Elias,<br><br>When faced with the choice of being a mouse or a man, you have always been a man, making me proud in everything you do.<br>Your father, in life and death,<br><br>Thomas Rowan Petterson</font></blockquote><br><br>But it was the lines he had scribbled onto the carefully folded paper tucked somewhere in chapter three that usually left Elias angry, sad, or filled with a range of emotions somewhere between one and the other.<br><br><blockquote class="bb-quote"><font color="#00aeef">Elias, I am truly proud of you and respect your decision to go to college. You will become the first in our family to graduate with a degree and the first to avoid both the mills and the mines. I have always tried to be a good man, but like so many men before me, I have failed in private much more than in public. You have always been there for your mother and your sister, especially when I was unable, and when I am gone, I want you to be there for them, the man I could never be. I pray that when the time comes, you will do better than me, for your mother, your sister, and the family that you will one day have.</font></blockquote><br><br>Elias held the paper between his fingers and brushed his thumb against the crease lines that had worn soft with time. The words read like an apology but felt more like an expectation, a sentencing to an unseen prison that the young teacher would read time and time again.<br><br>Exhaling softly, Elias cursed the heat that filled the room, and although the temperature in the yard hadn’t reached 70ºF yet, the temperature inside was hotter than outside. The old AC unit, which came with the rental, had died a few days earlier, and although Amazon Prime promised next-day delivery, nothing had shown up on the porch, and the last delivery update said the unit was on its way from Asheville, the same as it had said two, then three days before. When the power went out, the stand-up fans stood like stationary flamingos, doing absolutely nothing to remove the stale hot air from his place.<br><br>Flipping over his phone and looking at the time, Elias saw the text from the head coach.<br><br><font color="#00aeef">Football practice cancelled.</font><br><br>Then another.<br><br><font color="#00aeef">Coaches meeting Huskers 2 p.m.</font><br><br>Expected temperatures were too high, and without power, there was no way for the players to cool off. Without refrigerators and running freezers, there was no ice to cool off the water, no ice packs for injuries, and the expensive cold gel packs were saved for games.<br><br>Inhaling deeply, Elias closed his eyes and felt his chest tighten. He had been back for months now, the prodigal son returning to Pines Holler, but he had been lying low, trying to avoid the people he had seen before he had left for college, every person to whom he had declared he would get his degree and move to the city. Maybe Raleigh, maybe Bismarck, who knows, maybe even somewhere out of state. He sighed softly and shook his head. “Yeah, the best laid plans of mice and men.”<br><br>With the mid-year retirement of Ms. Hilda Jenkins, the principal’s wife and lone English teacher at Pines Holler, Elias had come home to the town he thought he left forever when his mother’s arthritic bones had started acting up and his younger sister, Lila, had buggered off again and was spending more time on someone else’s couch than she was at the family home. The vice-principal had reached out to his mom, asked if Elias would be coming back, and although he was reluctant, the promise of a salary for a new teacher without a job was something he couldn’t turn down.<br><br>Finally rolling out of bed, Elias scrolled through his phone, checking his social media accounts and avoiding the emails that were usually nothing more than spam or alumni news. After the obligatory text to his mom and her standard reply, “Go have fun, don’t worry about me,” Elias dragged his feet, poked around the house, and finally pulled on his faded jeans and his favourite gray T-shirt. something other than the briefs he had worn to bed the night before.<br><br>Not thrilled with the prospect of a midday meeting at Pine Holler’s favourite bar and grill, Eli took his time. It wasn’t Huskers itself that bothered him. On a Monday night, when the establishment sat half-empty and quiet, he might have gone without thinking twice. But this was different. Huskers in the middle of summer, with the power out? The whole town would be there, everyone he had spent months avoiding.<br><br>And Elias didn’t want the questions.<br><br><blockquote class="bb-quote"><font color="#00aeef">Why’d you come back?<br><br>Thought you were getting out.<br><br>Didn’t you say you were done with this place?</font></blockquote><br><br>He’d said all of that and meant it, too. After shaking the dust off his boots like it was something symbolic and final, Elias had said goodbye to the town, his family, and the friends he had grown up with since birth. He had promised anyone who would listen that he wasn’t coming back. And now here he was, back on the same street, in the same heat, driving the same roads like nothing had ever changed… nothing except him.<br><br>Driving through town in his dad’s old, battered black Dodge Ram 1500, Elias couldn’t help but notice the emptiness, the lack of movement, with only waves of heat shimmering upward off the hot summer road. Heading down Main Street and glancing forward, then right and left, Elias breathed in and something caught in his chest. Nothing had really changed, not in any substantial way. Since last summer, one or two stores now stood vacant, empty buildings with competing signs pasted on the windows: For Rent or For Sale. Take Occupancy Now. Pines Holler residents were always hopeful someone might set up shop, some fool might take interest in the town that was slowly dying, but other than real estate developers or surveyors, it seemed no one was coming. No one except him.<br><br>Slowing down for the two locals crossing the road, he gazed out the truck window and recognized the law office where Callie Shaw was working. Other than a nod and a quick wave from his pick-up truck, he hadn’t talked to her since his return, but the woman was unmistakable ... hippie goth, flowing skirts, jewellery dangling from her neck and wrists, and rings on her fingers. While her father was trying to find housing for souls in heaven, Callie was more practical, helping locals find affordable housing here on earth, mainly around town.<br><br>Nearing the bar and grill, Elias took a look at the parking lot as he drove closer. Most of the spots were already taken, and the only ones left were farthest away from the doors. Recognizing some of the cars from school, he could see that most of the coaching staff had arrived, and Mr. Robert Jenkins, the principal, must have already been there for hours; his car was up front, only a couple of stalls from the entrance of Huskers. Having seen the way Jenkins schmoozed and worked the system, Elias was surprised the principal and coach hadn’t had his name painted on the concrete with “RESERVED” written underneath.<br><br>Parking far from the entrance and out near the chain-link fence at the back, Elias stepped out of the car, and the hot air surrounded him again. It wasn’t more than a couple hundred steps, but in the midday heat, each step felt like two, and if he wasn’t used to the heat after close to thirty summers in Pines Holler, he was sure he’d be sweating.<br><br>Pulling the door open, Elias felt a gust of cold air slap at his face, and for the first time in days, he took a deep breath and felt a sense of cool relief. Standing inside, Elias glanced at the faces at the tables and the others serving them food. He knew Lucas from around town but had never really gotten to know him. He frowned when he saw Dallas’s ex-boyfriend, Valen. He had heard the rumours going around town about the Cop, but it was his own history with Dal made it hard to like the guy. When he saw Anna Lou standing near the bar, Elias actually smiled. He remembered her, dark hair, big brown eyes, one of the few people everyone liked back in high school. He’d been no different.<br><br><font color="#00aeef">“Coach,”</font> a loud voice boomed, interrupting his thoughts. And when he looked to the sound, Principal Jenkins was calling him over with a nod. With Jenkins sat the four other coaches, and even though he was out of the midday heat, Elias felt like he had moved straight from the frying pan and into something worse.</div></div><br></div>
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