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FathersDislikeMe member of RPG for 4 years

Visual Appeal Friendly Beginnings Promethean World Builder Lifegiver Tipworthy Conversationalist Author Inspiration

I did good military for a bit, and now I do good food.
3,398 words written.
5 total posts.
680 words per post.
5 posts per roleplay.
1 average days in a roleplay.
1 universes joined.
2.50 INK received in tips.

Basic Information

Your bedside while you sleep.
I cook food for people with a lot of disposable income.
Culinary (specifically pickling/preservation, lacto-fermentation, charcuterie), Reading, Diet & Nutrition, Fitness (fitness taco in my mouth! lolz), Travel , Tabletop Game Design, Writing
Favorite Role Playing Game:
Shadowrun 4th Edition
Game Master:
Favorite Setting:
All of 'em

User statistics

Tue Oct 13, 2020 3:56 pm
Last visited:
Thu Nov 05, 2020 9:05 am
Total posts:
Search user’s posts
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Most active forum:
Out of Character
(8 Posts / 36.36% of user’s posts)
Most active topic:
The Fairbrooks Gazette
(5 Posts / 22.73% of user’s posts)

Contact FathersDislikeMe



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Participated in 10 different conversations on the forum!



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Universes Created

Here, At the End of the World

It's strange what you'll find in a little corner of Montana. The locals swear the city is haunted, but not by anything truly malevolent. Just spooks and gremlins down on their luck.

A Silver Ring for Andir

Andir, once a glorious and powerful nation, is now beleaguered and dissolute in the aftermath of the Antagonist War. The old order has been fractured, and the capitol must gather its borders close. Intrigue, ambition, and malign purpose thrive.

Most Tipped Posts

0.25 INK received for post #2816341, located in The Fairbrooks Gazette:

ImageIt was surreal to move from the noise of New York to a town like Fairbrooks. Ten years ago, if someone had told her to move to Montana, she would have laughed in their face. It wasn’t so bad here, though, and she’d certainly been to worse places.

BJ’s was quaint, a little country bar with all-wood furnishings, purposed to look as though they’d been trees mere days ago. She sat at the bar, nursing a vodka soda, dipping her finger into the condensation accumulating into a puddle at the base of her glass and tracing little patterns around the swirls in the wood.

Early afternoon, and the bar was pretty dead. A few day-drinkers here and there, the clack and thunk of a game of pool, and a guy staring at his phone, drinking alone while picking at a salad, trying and failing to not look at her.

She knew it was him, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

After all, how many guys in Montana had a halo?

It’d be easy to get him over to her. She’d caught him looking at her a few times, would wait until he looked away, only to look at him in return. Of course, he’d look back at her just as she turned away. The third time it happened, she met eyes, lingered enough to offer just a little grin before turning back to her doodling. A gimpy guy with gray hair approached her and drunkenly lobbed a charmingly gauche line, and she laughed and and patted his arm and told him how much he was ‘just like her grandfather’. The man looked a little put out then moseyed on.

Lifting her chin, running a hand through her thick hair like obsidian rapids, she took a drink and pretended not to notice Mr. Halo approach.

Cute guy. In good shape. Let’s see what your opening has to offer.

He pretended like he was waiting on the bartender for a second, then spoke without looking at her. “That was pretty slick. Awfully nice of you to let him down so easy.”

Nice voice. He didn’t have a twang in his accent, which was good, because she never found country boys very endearing. And was that a little east coast she’d heard?

“Third one today. I just love getting hit on by guys old enough to be my dad.”

The halo guy grinned. She liked his hair, how it was kind of a mess but not. Normally, she wasn’t a fan of beards, but his was trimmed to appropriate shortness. And he smelled nice. Lot of guys she met thought charm was a substitute for hygiene.

And those shoulders. Wow. Please don’t be an idiot, halo-face.

“Only if your dad had you really late in life. Tom is seventy. Nice enough guy, but when he drinks, he thinks he’s twenty again.” He offered a hand. “Avi. Or Aviton.”

She shook his hand. His skin was dry, cool but not cold. Calloused fingers, but not scratchy. It was obvious he took care of himself, but probably not the type of care where he needed to spend more than fifteen minutes in front of the mirror. His faded jeans and navy blue long-sleeve looked like they should have been retired a year ago, and he wore them like they were old friends.

“I’ll stick to Aviton. ‘Avi’ means ‘father’ in Hebrew, after all, and given…”

“…that all your hopeful suitors have been over half a century old…”

“Exactly. I’m Lisa.”

“Pleasure. You new in town?”

“What gave it away?”

“That look like you’re wearing a new shirt for the first time and still deciding if you want to return it or not - and your lack of a tan.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, pale east coast skin. When I actually try to get some sun, I just burn.” His sleeves were pulled up, and he had some very ruddy forearms. She could see the muscles tense under his skin like braided snakes when he moved his fingers.

“East coast? What part?”

“New York.”

“Never been. Closest I got was when I ported in Rhode Island.”

“Ported? Ah, a Navy boy.”

“Yep. Dirty sailor, going port to port.”

“Well, you do have that sailor swagger.”

“Only after a couple drinks,” he said, and then lifted his glass, finished his drink, and ordered another whiskey sour. Simple drink order, falling into a conversation easily, able to respond: even if she hadn’t been there on purpose, she’d probably have given this guy at least a small chance.

“Hey, mind if I sit? Maybe it’ll keep the old guys off you.”

She nodded, sat up primly, and he joined her. Not too close, not pressing into her space, but not afraid of her. And no corny douchiness – well, not yet, at least.

“So what brings you to Fairbrooks?” And she told him. It was disarming how well he listened, responded here and there, and just let her actually talk. Maybe she told him a little too much. Not anything that’d give her away, but the basics: grew up as a suburban Jewish princess, came to Montana because she didn’t want to feel like a princess anymore, and heard that the Fairbrooks County University had a good cosmetology program.

“Cosmetics?” he said. “Well, maybe you can do something with my hair.”

She shook her head and inspected him a little closely. “I wouldn’t do a thing with your hair. I love it. It’s totally not fair. I spend way too much time getting my hair like this, and you probably run wet hands through it, and it looks fine. It’s testosterone that gives guys good hair, you know. Same thing that makes boys stupid gives them good hair and skin.”

A little dig. Playful, but prompting a reaction.

He laughed, rubbed the back of his neck a little, and looked away. “Oh, I know about stupid.” She knew a lot of guys who would have bristled. “But yeah, I have a few blessings. Hair being one of them. Beard being the other.

“What made you decide on a career in makeup?”

She lifted her eyebrows, grin sharp and clever. “Wondering how high-maintenance I am?”

“Thought never crossed my mind. Just curious.”

“Uh-huh,” she teased. “Well, as much as I do enjoy looking nice and helping other people look nice, I’m trying my hand at cosmetology before I decide whether or not I want to get into cosmetic dermatology. Blemish removal, skin conditions, I’ve always been interested in that kind of thing. But before I throw myself head-first into a career I may end up hating, I want to be sure. I figured that trying out the beautician side of things would be best before taking the plunge.”

“Admirable. Seems pretty specific, though. Not your typical ‘I want to be an astronaut when I grow up’.”

Lisa shrugged. “Not at all. Personal reasons. I, uh, have – or had – very severe eczema when I was younger, and it was really hard to cover up. A lot of the treatments they had for it didn’t do shit, either. Eventually, the doctors had me getting a lot of injections to treat it, and they nearly got rid of it, but it took a couple years for the treatments to take effect. So I figured I’d work in a field where I could help other kids like me. Plus, lot of doctors in my family, and I was ‘forbidden’ from pursuing my dream career.”

“Which was?”

She winked at him. “Astronaut.”

He laughed.

“Being covered in painful rashes made a lot of my childhood a living hell, though. ‘Lisa the Leper’ was a particularly nasty nickname I got.

“Talking to a military guy, though, I guess that sounds pretty silly compared to what you had to go through.”

Mr. Halo shook his head. “Not at all. I did what I did, but I made peace with it. Lot of my buddies saw a lot more than I did. You’re fine. And I understand childhood cruelty. Hey, I got picked on a lot too. Five six and skinny all through highschool made me an easy target.”

“Five six?”

“Didn’t hit the six foot mark until I was in my twenties.”


She was distracted by how good natured he seemed. A little too good natured. Maybe unrealistically so?

Who the hell are you, Mr. Halo? A little bit of paranoia crept up her spine. Was he just playing her, as she was playing him? Did he have some kind of angel-sense-thing that let him know what buttons to push? Was he on to her, to why she was here?

No, no. Calm down. Uncle said he doesn’t know who he is. Some kind of amnesia when he fell. That’s why he was important to Uncle, after all. He’d said Avi was a blank slate.

She cleared her throat. “Hey, um… I’m sorry if this is, like, rude, but…” She lowered her voice. “Am I crazy, or do you have a halo?”

His eyes widened and he leaned back. “You can see it?” He almost whispered.

“Yeah, of course.”

Paranoia evaporated at the look of genuine shock on his face. So he really wasn’t aware, then.

“I’ve always noticed. Noticed everyone who had… something different about them,” she continued. “Ever since I was a kid. My parents thought I was just being silly, or playing pretend, when I’d run up to them and say, ‘Mama, Daddy, did you see how the mailman has snake eyes? Is he a snake?’, or, ‘why does that girl have bug wings?’. They’d laugh and tell their friends, ‘what an imagination Lisa has!’

“But it’s not very cute to play pretend when you hit highschool, so I just stopped mentioning it. I see it, though, strange things about people here and there. Two weeks here, and you’re the third I’ve noticed. I’ve just never – well, you seem a lot nicer than a lot of guys I meet, and you didn’t seem like the type who’d freak out, so I thought I’d just… ya know. Ask. Sorry if that was inappropriate or anything.”

Oh, the little lies we tell.

He shook his hand like he was refusing another helping of dessert. “No, no, no. Don’t even worry about it, you’re good. It’s something only a couple people have ever noticed, is all. That’s why I was a bit surprised. I’ve always had it, and I have no idea why.

“My parents did the same thing yours did, ya know. I asked my mom why I had a halo once, and she hugged me and said, ‘because you’re my handsome angel.’ So I just stopped bringing it up.

“And truthfully, I don’t think it fits me. I’m not exactly angelic. Unless angels drink too much.”

There is such a thing as too much honesty, Mr. Halo. “Well, Jesus turned water into wine.” They chuckled a bit. She bit her lower lip. “Can I touch it?”

He laughed, causing him to sputter on his drink a little.

“What?” she said.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing. Just… never had someone ask to touch it.” He recovered, and leaned the top of his head forward. “Have at it.”

She touched it with her finger tip. The moisture from her drink on her skin was immediately gone. Her whole hand felt overwhelmingly warm, and the warmth spread through her entire body like warm sunlight, except instead of coming from the sun, it felt like it was coming from inside of her chest. She pulled back her finger like it’d been bitten.


“Tried lighting a cigarette on it once. No dice.”

She made a face, and he rolled his eyes. “Hey, now, don’t judge me. And I quit two years ago.”

“Are you a lefty or righty?” she asked.

“Lefty,” he said.

She snatched his left hand in both of her’s, turning it over and inspecting his fingers. “Hm. No yellow stains, your fingers don’t smell like smoke... good.” She released her grip, and he pulled his hand back. “You’re not a liar, and I like that.

“So,” she asked. “Bet you have some great military stories.”

He shrugged. “Traveled to a lot of different countries. Loved most of ‘em. But it wasn’t all fun and games.”

So they kept talking, and he never lingered on the military for too long, for which she was grateful. She liked a man in uniform, but some of them could go on forever about it. Sometimes she wanted to talk about non-military stuff, and not have to decipher a bunch of military terms.

The conversation was easy. He always had a response, and always let her continue if they spoke at the same time. Sure, she could see how his nice-guy routine could eventually get old, but he never seemed uptight.

When he said he should get home, and she said she should finish unpacking, he paid for their drinks without making a show of it and she pretended not to notice. They left, and he even held the door. She usually thought that kind of thing was overdoing it, but it seemed to fit him well. It was like a programmed response, not like he was trying to be annoyingly chivalrous.

Thank God! Last thing she wanted was to deal with someone from Arthur’s court, she all the dainty little fluff. It surprised her how many guys liked that shit.

She realized, not unhappily, that she was actually intrigued and starting to like talking to him. She kind of wanted to talk to him again.

Hey, nothing like a job you enjoy doing, right?

He said goodbye, and that it was nice to meet her, and she was confused for a moment. She’d thought they’d hit it off, but -

“Hey,” he turned to her. “Why don’t we go to dinner some time?”

The sheer gentle confidence of the question was a nice surprise. She stared for a bit, then smiled.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. I think I’d like that.” She looked up, her shoulders drooping, and groaned. “I have been dying for some decent Indian food.”

“Blackfoot or Cherokee?” he asked, tilting his head. She stared at him.

“I’m kidding,” he said. “Masala is a pretty good place. They’re geared towards the locals mostly – you know, people who may have experimented with curry in college that one time – but what they do, they do well.

“You free tomorrow?”

“Sure. Want to meet there?”

“Sounds good. Five-thirty too early for you? Come in after six on a Friday, and the wait is excruciating.”

Nodding, she turned to leave. “It’s a date.” She looked over her shoulder and waved at him. “See you soon, sailor boy.” She didn’t wait to watch his reaction but felt his eyes follow her.

Guilt was something she didn’t feel a lot of, but now she did. Just a bit. It wouldn’t feel great if he found out the truth. But, Uncle always said that guilt was a lot easier to deal with if you had fun while being guilty. And if she was trapped in an apple tree with failure below and betrayal above, she was sure as hell going to enjoy eating the fruit in the meantime.

0.25 INK received for post #2816342, located in The Fairbrooks Gazette:


0.25 INK received for post #2816343, located in The Fairbrooks Gazette:

Fairbrooks Gazette Blotter

August 29th, 2020

A woman called Fairbrooks County Sheriff's Office requesting animal control. She reported a wild lynx in her back yard attacking her dog. When animal control arrived, they found the dog and the lynx sleeping next to each other under a tree.

August 29th, 2020

Local man called to report that his pet lynx had escaped confinement.

August 31st, 2020

A group of three college students protesting at a Michael Smith political rally were arrested after attempting to throw a bucket of black paint on the senatorial candidate. Mr. Smith did not press charges, but expressed confusion about what they were protesting.

September 1st, 2020

Woman called police at five in the morning, claiming a group of "young hoodlums wearing gang uniforms" were trying to break into the coffee shop across the street. The suspects told police that they were employees and that their key to the store wasn't working. They were wearing their work uniforms.

September 1st, 2020

Couple calls police on their neighbor, who is seen in the yard and streets with a bow and arrow, shouting about hunting a "black dog" that had come to "take his soul." Police arrived and calmed the man, who appeared intoxicated.

September 3rd, 2020

Man called the local police when he heard someone trying to break into his house. When police arrived, they were greeted by the man's wife who complained about how her husband didn't wake up when she was knocking on the door, so she crawled in through a window.

September 3rd, 2020

Two arrests made after local police received an anonymous call about a fight happening in an alley on Lilac & Main. Three men were assaulting a fourth man. Two suspects still at large. The man being beaten was found with a backpack filled with marijuana and methamphetamine.

September 5th, 2020

Couple calls local police when they hear a gunshot coming from their neighbors house. Police arrived and found the neighbor dead, apparently having shot himself. Words written on the wall read, "You won't get me, you son of a b-." The man had previously had law enforcement called on him when causing a public disturbance armed with a bow and arrow.

0.25 INK received for post #2816355, located in The Fairbrooks Gazette:



"I put on my robe and wizard hat." - Bloodninja