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.
Jenkins had spent the first hour doing what Robert Jenkins did best, working the crowd. He had a knack for remembering names, shaking hands, and making people feel important. This was his time, his place, his crowd.
One hand wrapped around a plastic cup of lemonade, the other shaking hands and clapping shoulders. Jenkins moved through the fairgrounds like he owned the place. Parents stopped him to talk football. School board members thanked him for another successful year. Former players greeted him with big smiles and stories they’d talked about a hundred times before. With the only high school in town, even Town Council checked in on the principal.
Fourth of July was his kind of holiday. The fair, the fireworks, families together. Pines Holler at its best. And more importantly, people seeing him. Someone had once called him a “celebrity in his own mind” but Jenkins only laughed. He was the principal. The coach. The man who got things done. They didn’t need a superintendent, they had Jenkins.
He had already talked to the coaches, spoken to the teachers. Even though summer holidays had arrived, he had told his staff, “off the record”, they should be at the July 4th celebrations. The teachers knew the kids. If there was a problem, they should be there to help. Just their presence could be a deterrent, he said, prevented students from doing something stupid. Just one more thing to make sure the school had a part in the community.
By the time he had found himself near the centre of the fair and the spread of picnic tables, he overheard the conversation. Two older men sitting near the edge, sipping Dr. Pepper and chewing on their cigarettes.
"The generators?"
"Yep. Heard it from the Mayor herself. Bought 'em and had 'em delivered before he skipped town."
"Well I'll be damned."
"Doesn’t make any sense though. Why did Mercer buy all these generators and then pack up shop?"
Jenkins froze for a second and his smile disappeared. He stood there for a moment and chewed his lip. Mercer was gone. For weeks he'd been trying to reach that bastard. He’d gone through every avenue. Emails to his office. Calls to his secretary. Through a cousin of a cousin, he had reached out and finally scheduled an appointment and now all that work was dead. Weeks of phone calls, favors, and promises wasted.
Mercer had money. He had connections. He had the kind of influence that could've turned Jenkins' dreams into reality. A new football stadium. Expanded athletic facilities. A renovated school. Mercer had promised development and Jenkins saw opportunity. And yes, maybe a few opportunities for himself along the way. That was how things worked.
Now apparently Mercer had handed out generators like some kind of local hero and disappeared.
"Son of a bitch." Jenkins muttered under his breath.
For the first time all evening, Robert Jenkins wasn't interested in shaking another hand. He cut through the crowd with purpose. Past the food vendors. Past the Ferris wheel. Past a group of Pine Holler students who immediately stepped out of his path and shut down their conversation.
If Mercer was truly gone, then somebody needed to explain what the hell the town's leadership intended to do next. Because development wasn't going to stop, it couldn’t stop. This little town was drying up faster than cow pies on a summer day and funnel cakes and fairs wouldn’t be enough to save this place.
He finally spotted Callie Shaw near one of the vendor rows. Mayor Natalie Shaw's daughter. Town lawyer. Town activist. Town headache.
Jenkins adjusted his expression before approaching, trying to hide the exasperation that he felt growing in his chest. "Callie. Callie Shaw.”
His voice carried the same authority that had shut down classrooms and locker rooms for two decades. The same voice he had used when Callie was a junior in Pines Holler high.
"I need a word."
He stopped beside her, his eyes scanning the crowd before returning to hers. He looked at the young woman in front of him and assuming she had influenced her mother, continued,"I've been hearing some interesting things tonight."
He paused for a moment, then added, "About Mercer."
His jaw tightened and he growled,"Tell me your mother's around."
"I think the mayor and I need to have a conversation before this town makes another mistake it can't afford."
“Cabin 8E is over on the other side of the camp,” Brody began as he and Matt made their way from the dining hall. “It’s part of Pine Ridge. The girls’ camp is over by the lake at Maple Hill. The guys and girls usually do everything together—arts and crafts, canoeing, games, whatever. But the girls’ cabins are off limits to the boys, and the girls shouldn’t be going into the boys’ either.”
Holding his backpack and pulling his luggage, Matt was glad his mom had found one of those new suitcases with wheels on the bottom. Keeping up with the camp counsellor would normally have been easy, but saddled with his bags and dragging the suitcase over uneven ground made it difficult. When Brody finally noticed, the older counsellor stopped and took the heavier bag.
“Every day we start with breakfast, then an activity,” Brody continued. “Today it’s arts and crafts. Some days it’s archery or canoeing. You’re going to really like this place. There’s so much to do.”
Trying to process all the new information, Matt huffed along, catching sight of the first aid cabin, the fire pit, and other larger cabins that were too far away to read the signs. Looking toward the edge of camp, he was amazed at the tall evergreen trees that seemed to guard the grounds. For a moment, he thought about the Ents from Lord of the Rings and wondered if these trees were just as old.
When the two finally reached the cabin, Brody pushed open the door and let Matt go through. “Welcome to Cabin 8E, aka Dunlop.”
Matt stepped over the threshold into the empty cabin. Accepting his fate, he looked around the room. The bags of other campers were strewn about, a deck of cards sat on a table, and a Monopoly game rested on a shelf, both probably for rainy nights. Most of the bunks were covered with clothes, books, and magazines, so Matt walked over to one of the unused beds and asked, “Should I take this one?”
After dropping off their bags and getting settled, the two of them headed back to where they had started that morning. His mother’s car was long gone, and for a moment Matt felt a pang of homesickness. Seeing the grin on Brody’s face, he asked, “You said it was arts and crafts, right? I really don’t like that stuff. I once made a mask for Halloween and it looked more like a dead pumpkin than anything else.”
Brody laughed under his breath. “Don’t worry. Most of the older campers don’t do the glue sticks or markers or the glitter thing. We’ve got other things like wood carving, bracelet making if you’re into it, leatherwork sometimes, even painting. And if that still sounds like torture, you can usually find someone throwing or kicking a ball around outside instead.”
He glanced over with a half-smile. “No one’s forcing anyone to become an artist here.”
Finally reaching the craft hall, Matt looked up at the wooden cabin. Smaller than the dining hall but more than twice the size of his bunkhouse, he heard voices coming from inside and looked back at Brody.
“Good, because I can barely draw a stick person without messing it up,” he said. “Mine usually look kinda weird.”
Brody let out a short laugh and pushed the door open. “You’ll be fine. Come on.”
Hey everyone ... near the end of my last reply IC, I wrote
The girl with the skateboard was still near the mirror display, frozen for a moment as if unsure whether to move closer or further away. The woman with the dark hair and the music box had stepped back slightly, her eyes fixed on the counter as though waiting for an explanation that wasn’t coming. The young influencer stood near the shelves, trying to find his composure. Imp was the only one who seemed to be moving and now that the menace had gone, Imp was bending down, picking up the bent, broken and bruised objects scattered about the floor.
If any of that feels like I have gone into God Mode, let me know and I will adjust.
Before he could stand from where he had fallen, Brayden watched the room explode into unexpected chaos. Scooby and Doo had bolted free, their red leashes dragging behind them as they moved further into the store. Without reason or force, books were suddenly dislodged from their resting places and strewn wildly about the room. Getting up onto his knees, he saw the girl with the large cross begin to pick up the fifteen or so books that had been scattered on the floor.
Even though he called his black Lab back, the dog froze, and the hackles on his back stood straight up. Barking and pawing, Doo hustled toward the young man by the door. Positioning himself between the man and the door, the dog showed a courage he had lacked only minutes before. But when the door pushed open, the bravery was replaced by his typical anxiety and fear, and the dog began to nervously paw at the ground.
“Come on, Doo,” Brayden pleaded. “Let’s go.”
But rather than find his way back to his owner, the young dog began to whimper and whine, retreating slowly, his eyes fixed on the figure emerging through the door. Looking to the source of the pup’s distress, Brayden saw the bright red eyes and the almost ghoulish expression on its face. Rising more quickly, the veterinarian stood and moved toward his dog when the room was thrust into a darkness blacker than night.
Close behind him, Scooby stood rigid, growling at something Brayden couldn't yet see. The lights flickered and flashed while a strange, seemingly endless sound filled the room. From the doorway, shadows began to emerge. Slithering and wriggling, they spilled through the now cavernous opening, crawling over one another until a loud, hideous laugh erupted from the darkness and filled the air.
Thankful for the blinking light that briefly pierced the darkness, Brayden dropped into a crouch. With each flash, he caught glimpses of objects hurtling through the air, ricocheting toward every corner of the vast room and every dark, shadowed space between.
Suddenly, Imp, the store owner, strode forth and positioned himself between the monster behind the door and every visitor still in the room. The creature looked up at the light shining in the shopkeeper’s hand, and its face twisted into something more gruesome. Staring at the object held high in Imp’s hand, the creature seemed to become afraid, and before another word could be said, it turned and vanished back behind the door, or somewhere into the darkness, into the space between the intermittent flashes of light.
Once it was gone, the door slammed shut, and the dim lights of the shop came back on, seemingly brighter than before.
Standing tall, the veterinarian looked about the room. Unsure what he had just witnessed, he let out a breath and whispered louder than he expected.
“What was that?”
Mr. Imp turned, looking down at Dante and Doo, the placid expression on his face turning more stern. The older gent walked straight toward the door and twisted the sign.
"Well, now... We've quite the mess on our hands, don't we?..." the shopkeeper began.
Moving toward Scooby and then Doo, Brayden grabbed the loose leashes that hung from each dog. Holding them tight and close to his body, the vet looked around the room and then back to Imp.
“What was that?” he asked again.
Both dogs had calmed, but the room was still in a state. Books had exploded from the shelves, and the implements he had been looking at earlier were scattered across the floor. Everywhere he looked, the dark but orderly store had been transformed into a chaotic mess of overturned displays, broken trinkets, and debris.
Brayden held the leashes a little tighter and scanned the room as the immediate danger seemed to fade. His breathing was still quick, but his attention shifted away from the door and toward the people still standing among the wreckage.
Brayden frowned, taking in the scene with a doctor's eye. No one looked injured. Shocked, yes. Confused for sure. But everyone seemed healthy and alive and then his gaze returned to Imp.
“What was that?” he asked again for a third time, "And why did you close the door?"
[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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