#about a bear

[thelostcoastcalling]

[thelostcoastcalling]

[thelostcoastcalling]

ABOUT A BEAR

Name: Bear Everett

Age: 30

Hometown: Homer, Alaska

Occupation: Ex-oil rigger, current bartender

Likes: Beer, the outdoors, motorcycles, fighting.

Dislikes: Shittalkers, texting, and status-driven people.

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STATS

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Blue/green

Height: 6'2"

Build: Muscular

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BACKSTORY

When you’re an Alaskan, there’s one thing more than any you learn how to do: endure. Enduring harsh winters, a special kind of violence only nature knows how to serve. Enduring people who’ve grown hardened by the wind and bitter by the cold. Enduring truths that people in cities far away never have to consider. It’s not that Homer was rampant with alcoholism and fighting so much as that it was an accepted status quo. Bear watched his dad beat on his mom from the time he was small…he was only nine when she walked into the ocean on a rainy February night, stones in her pockets and bruises on her arms. Bear’s father wasn’t suited to fatherhood so much as he was suited to drinking a case of beer every other night–single fatherhood even less so. He got Bear a job behind the one bar in Homer that hadn’t kicked the old drunk to the curb–Bear was tall for his age, and at fifteen he looked nearly twenty. For the next four years, Bear helped his father turn his liver to paste for $9 an hour, collecting enough to move out to a remote village to start work on an oil rig when he was eighteen.

Life on the rig suited Bear. Nobody bothered him, and the women in town were always happy to see a man with a decent income and muscles that told tales of hard work. Bear was restless, though…he was always so damn restless. When his father got into trouble with the law and the authorities came hunting for someone to pick up the pieces, Bear hitched his way through Alaska and Canada to northern Washington where he scraped together enough dough to buy a motorcycle, putting some of his mechanical skills from the rig to use fixing old beaters and chopping them for parts. When the owner of the chop shop started to get threats from law enforcement, Bear hot-wired one of the beaters and was on the road once again.

With a little money in his pocket and his motorcycle hitched to the bed of the ‘70s-era Ford, Bear rolled up in Dayton with nothing but couple grand to his name and freedom. After bouncing around his entire life and much-repressed childhood trauma, Bear is ready to find a gig making some money and trying to figure out what it feels like to be committed to something other than survival.

[foreverinthedark]

It took me 2,5 years but now I finally realized how right I was when I did not choose you. Such an unhealthy person for me, you still poisons me with your behavior but I’m with peace now.