Current
What did you say? I couldn't hear you. I was watching the World Cup.
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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.
Matt smiled as he slipped the baseball back into his glove.
"Guardians of the forest it is,” he whispered to himself.
He adjusted the strap of his backpack and took one last look toward the water. The campers were still laughing and shouting across the lake, and one canoe had become the center of attention, with more kids than allowed trying to climb aboard. Somewhere, a counsellor blew another whistle, though this one sounded farther away and far less urgent than before.
No one had noticed him standing there, and no one cared that he hadn’t made it to the beach. That suited Matt just fine, and he began to walk.
The trail leading toward the trees was nothing more than a well-worn path of packed earth winding between towering pines. As soon as he stepped beneath their branches, the sounds from the beach seemed to disappear. The laughter became distant, and the whistles faded until all he could hear was the sound of birds perching in the trees and the crunch of twigs and needles beneath his feet.
Taking a deep breath, Matt inhaled the air of the forest. The air even smelled different. It was cooler, earthier. Not quite like the Christmas trees his family got at the U-cut lot, but there was a smell that was unique to the forest and the trees guarding its borders.
Glancing upward, Matt took a look at the sentinels. The trunks stretched higher than he thought possible, their branches dancing gently in a wind he could not feel. Every now and then, a bird called from up above, and a squirrel ran along the branches, inviting him to follow.
"Definitely Ent country," he murmured quietly.
He grinned to himself. If Camp Wyaconda really did have guardians, this was where they'd live. If there were monsters, this is where they would hide.
Every few yards, something new caught his attention. A fallen pine cone nearly as big as his hand. A feather resting in the needles. When he saw the enormous tree with roots twisting out, he thought of the Spiders of Mirkwood and knew this was one place where they hid.
Moving closer, he stopped beside the tree and rested one hand against the rough bark. Studying the trunk, he noticed its size and stretched his arms around it. Unable to see around the wooden giant, he tried to imagine how many kids it would take to wrap their arms around it. "I bet you've been here since before my dad was born, probably my grandpa too," he confided to the tree.
When the tree didn't reply, he wondered how many campers had walked this trail before him. How many had stopped to greet this tree but were warned not to go any further. He remembered his mom explaining that Camp Wyaconda had been a scout camp years and years ago. Thousands of kids had probably walked up this path. Maybe someone had stood in this exact spot fifty years earlier, looking deeper into the forest. Maybe they had all stopped right here. Maybe he'd be the first one to go in.
One more time, Matt gazed towards the tall pine trees that towered around the camp. Pointing towards the sky, the evergreens stood like sentinels, always protecting the camp from invading forces and the marauders who wanted entry. Somewhere beyond the trees, he was sure monsters waited. Orcs and Wargs were likely to be prowling the forest's edge, goblins and trolls searching for a hidden passage into Wyaconda. He knew the dark forces were always waiting, looking for their chance to pillage the camp and feast on the unsuspecting children inside.
Shaking his head, Matt smiled to himself before turning back toward the beach. He knew he had zoned out. Back home, his sister would laugh whenever it happened, then she would remind everyone that Matt had “that look” again, the one he had when his imagination took over, and a new world appeared in his head.
Looking back at the dock, Matt watched the kids still paddling awkwardly in canoes while others waded or swam in the crystal-clear lake. As kids jumped from the floating dock and splashed each other with water, the sounds of the campers beckoned, but when he looked to their faces, he didn’t know a single one.
Brody and the other boys still hadn't shown up, and the red-haired girl he'd met on the pathway had wandered off without another word. Still holding the baseball in his hand, Matt squeezed it a little tighter, pushing it deeper into the pocket of his glove. Considering his options, he slowly turned the ball in his fingers before remembering the rule. The answer was obvious. He didn't need to make the decision. Rawlings would.
It was a game of luck or chance, somthing he'd invented a couple of years before. Like flipping a coin, he'd toss the baseball into the air and catch it in his glove. Danny always laughed at him for it, but Rawlings had settled a lot of impossible decisions over the years.
If the side stamped RAWLINGS faced up, he'd head for the forest. If the blank side was showing, he'd go to the beach.
Matt took one slow breath and muttered to the baseball. "Don't let me down."
He pulled the ball out of the glove and made sure he didn’t look for the name. His sister had joked that he should kiss the ball for good-luck but he never did. With an underhand toss and a little bit of effort, he threw the ball high into the air. He watched as it left his hand and he noticed the way it rose up into the sky. Not taking his eye off the ball, he saw it reach its pinnacle. Against the backdrop of the blue sky and a few wispy clouds, the ball began to descend. As it fell nearer, he held up his glove and began to watch for the spin. Just like he did a thousand times before, he opened the glove and the ball dropped easily inside.
He held the glove closed for another second before slowly peeling back the leather. He already knew which answer he was hoping for, but the decision wasn't his anymore. As the mitt opened, Matt looked down. Red stitching. White leather. Right in the middle ...
RAWLINGS
Matt smiled as he pulled the ball from the glove. It never answered wrong.
The voice was loud and carried from the dock up to the pathway where Piper and Matt were standing.
“Sit down! Both of you! Now!"
The counsellor wasn’t big, but her voice was commanding. Matt turned a little and watched as the campers continued duelling with paddles. Sparring with their makeshift wooden swords, the two boys were laughing, having the time of their lives. The pony-tailed counsellor blew her whistle again and began to move closer to the edge of the water. When Matt saw the scowl on her face, he shook his head, “Oh those guys are in trouble.”
He laughed out loud, when Piper added, "Yep... Somebody's about to lose canoe privileges."
Not wanting to miss the action, Matt looked back to the docks. Almost every camper had their eyes on the two boys standing in their canoes, wobbling as they tried to maintain their balance. Kids in the lake froze at the sound of the whistle, and most stood waist-deep in the water, waiting to see what would happen.
"You can go watch if you want." Piper added.
“You coming too?” he asked.
When he didn’t hear a reply, he turned back to Piper but the red-haired girl had already pivoted away and started to walk toward the shoreline, leaving him on his own. For a second or two, he looked at her and wondered why she had left. Had he said something wrong, laughed when he should have been quiet.
Unsure what to do, Matt glanced back to the dock. The counsellor had moved into the water and was now standing knee deep in the lake. Although the two canoe combatants had fallen back into their seats, most of the kids had their eyes fixed on the lake. It seemed like everyone was waiting for the arrival of their counsellor and probably wondering what punishment would face the boys.
Sensing the drama was coming to an end, he looked back to Piper, but the girl had wandered farther away and hadn’t even glanced back. Not knowing anyone down at the lake, Matt felt alone. He looked back to the recreation cabin but the path was empty. Even Brody hadn’t shown up yet and he was probably still taking care of the injured kids or cleaning up their blood.
Looking towards the forest, Matt felt its pull. All the best stories happen under the canopy of trees, Bridge to Terabithia, the Hobbit, even Redwall. If Matt was ever going to write a story, or maybe have a real adventure, maybe the forest was the best place to start.
Elias glanced back toward the rows of midway games they had just walked past. Bright lights flashed above faded signs and the cacophony of voices, bells and cheers beckoned them closer.
"Actually..." he said, nodding toward the booths. "Before we go riding the Ferris wheel, let’s try the games. There has to be something here that isn’t rigged."
Elias took a few steps backward and looked at Anna Lou. She was still brushing at the powdered sugar on the front of her shirt, only managing to spread it around even more. It made him laugh softly. Somehow her smile had stayed exactly the same. Warm. Easy. Unassuming. The kind that made him want to see it again.
He nodded and gestured for her to follow.
"You already said the darts are rigged, so those are out." He studied the midway until his eyes settled on the water gun race with its paint chipped wooden horses. "How about we find one that's a little bit fair and gives us both a chance to win?"
His grin turned to a wider smile and he glanced back at Anna Lou.
"Maybe..." His eyes drifted toward the oversized stuffed animals hanging from the booths. "We can make sure you leave here with a prize."
"A prize," Anna Lou repeats, raising an eyebrow at him. "Bold of you to assume I need your help winning one." Still, she is already moving toward the water gun booth before she finishes the sentence, sugar-streaked shirt and all, because if there's one thing Anna Lou has never been able to resist, it's a challenge.
"But sure," she adds, glancing back at him over her shoulder.
"Let's see what you've got, Petterson."
Elias let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he followed her toward the booth.
"Confident," he said, glancing at the water guns lined up along the counter. "I should’ve expected that."
He stepped in beside Anna Lou and picked up the old plastic water pistol, testing it in his hand. "I’m just saying," he added as he settled into place, "if it was against anyone else, I’m pretty sure you’d win, but I’ve played this a whole lot of times."
A faint grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he glanced over at her. Seeing her expression, he couldn’t help but laugh, "You’re not going to make this easy, are you?"
Shifting his stance, Elias gave Anna Lou a light bump with his hip. "So," he said, his grin becoming wider, "what happens if I win?"
Anna Lou picks up the water gun on her side and tests the trigger once to get a feel for it. The mechanism is stiff since decades of fairground use have not been kind to it, but the stream shoots true, hitting the faded wooden horse square in the chest. She nods to herself, satisfied. It is not about winning, really, but something about the way Elias had raised his eyebrows when she suggested the game makes her want to prove a point.
The carny behind the counter is a middle-aged man with a tired face and a tattoo on his forearm that has blurred into illegibility. He barely looks at them as they step up, gesturing vaguely at the triggers and says, "Winner gets a prize from the wall."
"I've played this a whole lot of times too," Anna Lou says mildly, not looking at Elias. She is instead focused on the target and on the way the water pressure feels in her hand. The hip bump does earn him a sideways look, however. "If you win, I'll… concede that mini-donuts are a perfectly acceptable summer food. Not better. Acceptable." She fully glances at him then, something slightly more deliberate in it than the easy warmth of the last hour. "But if I win, you carry whatever I pick off that prize wall all the way to the Ferris wheel and you answer one question. Honestly." She looks back at the target before he can ask what the question is.
The carny grunts. "Ready when you are."
Elias looked over at Anna Lou and smiled, wondering what question she had in mind. Before he could think about it any longer, the carny slapped the lever down, the bell clanged, and the race began.
Already behind, Elias squeezed the trigger. The stream of water struck the target just off-center before he adjusted and finally found the center of the bull's-eye. Beside him, Anna Lou's gun was hissing steadily, the two wooden horses creeping forward almost perfectly in sync, but hers was already half a horse length ahead.
"You've definitely done this before," he laughed, never taking his eyes off the target.
The horses slid forward together, neither gaining more than an inch until….
"Damn..." he said with a laugh, still squeezing the trigger. "You left out that you were really good at this."
The race is over before Anna Lou fully registers it. One moment, she is squeezing the trigger, her stream steady and true. The next moment, the bell clangs and the carny gestures at the prize wall indifferently and clearly a little bored. Anna Lou blinks. The water gun is still in her hands, the trigger still depressed like Elias’s, a thin trickle of water dribbling from the nozzle onto her shoes.
"I told you I'd played before," she says, and there is a faint breathlessness in her voice that she does not entirely recognize. She finally sets the water gun down on the counter, her fingers tingling slightly from the effort.
"You said you played before..." he answered back with a grin. "Only thing, you didn’t mention being Pines Holler’s best.."
"You should have probably stopped talking. It definitely affected your aim." She says it lightly, teasing, but her eyes are still on the horse that sits frozen at the finish line. She keeps her eyes there and thinks, despite having nothing to do but squeeze a trigger and wait, that she had meant what she said back at the funnel cake stall about genuinely not having known what she wanted to study. Education had been the closest thing to an answer she could find because she was good with people and good at explaining things, and was clearly good at this, too.
But reasonable and wanted had never quite been the same thing for her, and Anna Lou had known that even then, at seventeen, filling out the deferral form at the kitchen table while her father iced his back in the next room. She had just never figured out what she actually wanted instead.
"Pick your prize, miss," the carny says then. He gestures at the prize wall, and Anna Lou looks at Elias, a small smirk on her face. She does not gloat often, but when she does, she likes to do it properly.
"Told yuhhh," she says, drawing the word out just slightly. "Again."
Turning his head, Elias catches the grin on her face, "Yeah, you did. Next time, I’ll make sure to practice first.”
Anna Lou surveys the prize wall after that, taking her time as her eyes move slowly across the rows of stuffed animals. The stuffed bears are too obvious. The oversized bananas are funny, but impractical. The generic cartoon characters, like the faded SpongeBob and a knockoff Pikachu, feel like they belong to someone else's childhood. But then her eyes land on it. A strawberry approximately the size of a small child, red and improbable and decorated with a grinning felt face. The smile is wide, and the eyes are mismatched buttons, and there is a small green stem on top that looks like it has been merely glued on.
It is the most ridiculous thing she has ever seen, and Anna Lou loves it immediately.
She points at it. "That one."
The carny follows her gaze, grunts, and reaches up to retrieve the strawberry from its hook, handing it over without comment. The strawberry is, in fact, enormous. It is also surprisingly light, filled with the kind of cheap polyester stuffing that has probably been inside prizes since the 1980s. Anna Lou accepts it with both arms, cradling it like a child, before she turns and holds it out to Elias with a perfectly pleasant expression.
"You know the deal," she says.
Shaking his head, Elias chuckled, a grin spreading across his face, "The strawberry? Really?"
He reached out and took the oversized berry from Anna Lou, giving it a light squeeze. "Yeah… a deal’s a deal."
Seeing more people drifting toward the rides, Elias shifted his stance. He looked at the girl in front of him and couldn’t help but smile. Everything about the night felt easy. Talking to Anna Lou, playing the game, it was fun. For one single moment, that space between heart beats, something quiet settled in his chest. He wondered if he had been wrong. He had shut out the people of Pines Holler for too long, spent too long expecting judgment from friends, family and strangers. But standing here with Anna Lou, there was none of that. Just ease.
"So you said something about a question."
Glancing towards the Ferris wheel in the distance, then back at her. "Do you want to ask it now, or after we get in line?"
"Now's good," Anna Lou says, falling into step beside him with her hands in her pockets now that the strawberry has been successfully transferred. The Ferris wheel is visible above the roofline ahead of them, its lights turning slow and steady against the darkening sky. It is beautiful in a way that makes people stop and stare and forget what they were about to say. Anna Lou does not allow its beauty to distract her, however. Instead, she takes a breath and feels the words gathering in her chest.
"So, I heard something interesting recently," she says, keeping her voice conversational. She does not want to sound like she is accusing him of anything. "While I was working. About Husker's. Something about you and…Virginia?" She glances sideways at him briefly just enough to gauge his reaction without making it obvious that she is gauging anything at all. The fairground lights catch the side of his face, and she wonders what she is hoping to see there. Surprise? Denial? Confirmation of…something?
Either way, Anna Lou looks ahead again and at anything that is not that expression.
"So… I guess my question is," she continues, "should I know something about that? Before we get on the Ferris wheel?"
Elias blinked, surprised by the question. For a second he looked up to the Ferris wheel instead of answering, then he let out a quiet laugh, mostly to himself.
"Well..." he said, scratching the stubble on his cheek,"You have to love Pine’s Holler. Rumours spread around here faster than truth."
His smile lingered, and then he continued, "Virginia came into Huskers a few nights ago." He glanced over at Anna Lou before looking back toward the rides. "She was having a rough night."
He repositioned the oversized strawberry under his arm before he continued, "She didn't have anywhere to stay. At least nowhere she felt safe going."
A small shrug followed as he breathed in deep. He hoped the question was innocent but he couldn’t help but worry about Pines Holler and the judgements that followed at every corner.
"I've got a spare bedroom, so I told her she could stay there for the night."
He met Anna Lou's eyes, letting the glance linger,"That's all it was." After a moment he added,"She slept in one room, I slept in the other. She left the next morning after breakfast. Nothing more, honestly."
He smiled faintly, almost embarrassed.”It didn't really feel like there was another choice. You know, I figured if my sister had ever been in that situation, I'd hope somebody would've done the same for her."
Anna Lou listens and watches his face while he talks. She sees the earnestness in him, the decency at the coaches' table. And she believes him. She believes him immediately and without much deliberation. It is not that she is naive. She has been lied to before by people who smiled and said the right things and meant none of them. She has learned to be careful because of this and to wait and see before she trusts. But something about Elias is different. Something about the way he tells the story makes her feel like she is seeing and hearing the real him.
"Okay," she says, and the word is simple, but it carries the weight of everything she is not saying. "That was a good thing you did. For her. This place could use more of that."
Elias held her gaze for a moment, considering the reply, measuring her expression. Her question had surprised him but he hadn't realized how much he wanted Anna Lou to believe him.
"Thanks," he said, the word coming out quieter than he'd intended. "I only did what I thought was right."
He shifted the giant strawberry prize higher under his arm, glancing toward the Ferris wheel as more and more people began to head in that direction.
He looked back at Anna Lou."I'm glad you asked instead of just believing whatever you heard. Not everyone would do that."
He drifted a little closer, his smile widening. "We've got a strawberry to get to the top of the Ferris wheel … unless you have any more questions."
"No more questions. For now," she says, though the qualifier slips out before she can stop it, which earns him a sideways look that is mostly exasperation directed at herself. "You know," she says, glancing at the strawberry tucked under his arm, "I think that's the best prize I've ever won. The watergun wasn’t even rigged or anything either."
Elias noticed the pause between her words and looked at Anna Lou with a genuine smile. He chuckled quietly when she added, "For now,"but he didn't comment. If she wanted to ask another question later, he had nothing to hide.
When her eyes drifted back to the oversized strawberry, his eyes followed, and he tucked it a little more securely beneath his arm."It is pretty amazing," he said, giving it another light squeeze. "And yes, you won it fair and square... though I still think you were distracting me."
Shaking his head, he laughed as he looked toward the Ferris wheel. Its lights turned slowly against the darkening sky, and the line of couples waiting beneath it seemed to grow longer by the minute. "Come on," he said. "If we wait much longer, we'll end up watching the fireworks from the ground instead of the top."
Without another word, he started toward the line, the giant strawberry tucked beneath one arm. When they reached the entrance gate to the ride, he pulled it open and stepped aside, letting Anna Lou go first.
Anna Lou steps through the gate and joins the line, which has grown long enough that they will have a good while longer to wait. The crowd has thickened in the past few minutes, and the Ferris wheel turns slowly above them, each gondola swaying slightly as it crests the top.
She tilts her head back to look at it properly. It is not the biggest Ferris wheel she has ever seen; she knows that intellectually. There are bigger ones, fancier ones, but this one is hers. It has always been hers.
"You know, I used to come here every year as a kid," Anna Lou says then, more to the wheel than to Elias. "My dad would always let me pick one thing to do and one thing to eat. I picked this every time. And the funnel cake was always the food. Obviously."
She glances at him sideways, a small smile tugging at her mouth. She can remember it now, the feeling of her father's hand in hers, the way he would lift her to see over the crowd, and the patient way he listened to her chatter about which colours she liked best on the wheel's lights. She had not thought about that in years. Or maybe she had, but she had not let herself feel it.
"You're going to like the view. I promise." Because she has. She has seen this view under every kind of sky. She has seen it with her father, with her mother, and with friends who have since moved away and rarely come back. She has seen it alone, too, during times when she needed to remember that the world was bigger than the counter at Huskers.
“Cool,” Matt exclaimed, when Piper mentioned the stories and legends of the camp.
But when she quickly added, "Don't worry. There's nothing scary in the woods. It's just a story the counsellors make up so you don't wander off and get lost,” he frowned just a little and answered, “Aww, I knew it was too good to be true.”
Turning his head, he gazed out towards the trees that guarded the two ends of the beach. The enormous evergreen trees stood like sentinels, watching over a kingdom, and immediately Matt thought of the Old Forest in The Lord of the Rings. Remembering the place where Frodo met Tom Bombadil, his mind began racing. He already had the title for his next story … The Guardians of the Woods.
Looking around, Matt saw more and more of the canoes being pulled out and taken into the water. Piper didn’t seem like she was in any hurry, and he relaxed just a little as she began to explain the camp. When she nodded towards the campers, he noticed the kids who were swimming, some wearing life jackets, some using inner tubes. Seeing the boys wrestling on the floating dock made him laugh and he thought about last summer when his family had gone camping and he and his sister had tried to push his brother Danny into the lake.
As soon as Piper mentioned baseball, Matt looked back at her, with a hopeful expression. Maybe she played the game. Maybe she knew who Bret Saberhagen and Mark Davis were. When she mentioned her dad liked the Braves, Matt grinned, "My dad says they're getting better. They've got Tom Glavine and he's awesome."
Before he could ask if she played baseball, Piper talked about soccer and mentioned she liked running. Excited about every sport and knowing a little about every league he grinned, “Did you watch the World Cup last summer? West Germany was so good.”
Piper just smiled back and when she asked if he played baseball, he answered quickly. “Yeah, I play on the Cubs. I’m a shortstop but I like soccer too. I sort of play every sport. Baseball, football, soccer. I even tried hockey but I’m not very good at skating.”
Realizing he was talking too much, he remembered his sister’s words and her advice before camp. Not everybody likes sports like you do. So don’t talk to everybody like you are with Danny or your buddies. Maybe you’re going to learn something new when you go to that place.
Remembering the artwork he'd seen back in the recreation hall, Matt asked, "What about you? Do you mostly do art, or do you play sports too?"
Before Piper could answer, one of the counsellors blew the whistle again, and the sound immediately caught everyone’s attention.
Matt glanced toward the water, then back at Piper. Had he missed something? Was there something everyone else knew that he didn’t?
“So what’s that about?” he asked. “Do we have to go down there too?”
[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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MaeB,
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FatPrincess,
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Half Pint,
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