El Taco Taco

Something In Between That [El Taco Taco and mmidnight]

I'd was planning on treating the lot of them as NPCs, but whatever you prefer!

Bwaha. The fight approaches. >:D

Star Wars Comedy Adventure Pairing [high casual]

In terms of player count-- I'm fine with the size of the group as is, but I'm not opposed to having one more person, either. Anything more than 5 people and things tend to fall apart in my experience. I do like keeping the focus on our merry band of misfits.

Also, yay, Twilek! :D :D :D

there's no sea left for me [[ El Taco Taco && Anima ]]

Go ahead! :3

there's no sea left for me [[ El Taco Taco && Anima ]]

He prised her fingers off his arm, even as she tried to squeeze tighter. His hand was so much larger than hers—she’d forgotten that. Memories came back in a rush, thoughts she’d buried beneath work and her own affairs. They were twelve and sneaking into the forrest, fourteen and accidentally unearthing conspiracies and old magic, sixteen and beneath their tree at the lake, laughing as if summer would last forever.

His voice was cold steel, but Phoebe jut out her chin, nostrils flaring with barely constrained rage. She had never been soft. Did he think he could scare her off with sharp words? She was not some mewling girl, and even with the overstimulation of the rain and the Heat screaming out protest, she refused to let him cow her.

“Oh, yes, total coincidence, it could happen to anyone,” she hissed, sarcasm dripping from every word. He’d brought up her marriage. It was like he had fired a stunner to her chest. Her throat closed up. She hadn’t heard anything about Justin in the past ten years, but he’d known she’d been married? Her eyes stung, but Phoebe drew a deep breath. No. No she couldn’t drown in those memories, not now. Keep it together. She wanted to hit him. Before she could indulge her wrath, he was marching her away. Phoebe began swearing viciously, fumbling for the wand strapped to her back. She’d put his eye out with a hex, how dare he--

“Stay there. Do not come out. I can’t tell you why, but I’m trying to help you. Forget about this encounter.”

“Do not tell me to stay. I’m not a goddamn crup, you twat—“ Phoebe was interrupted as he turned away from her. Her temper flashed. Oh, what she wouldn’t do to curse his bloody nose off. Sparks flared in her vision, and she could feel her wand humming against her spine, eager to indulge her rage.

Some bland man was looking between them, his lip curling as if he smelled something foul. She was hardly her usual cool professional self, but she was nothing to be sneered at. Phoebe Lockwood had never been one to tolerate insults. She was about to release a string of insults when Justin pushed her towards the door. Grit could only do so much, and Phoebe stumbled, the world spinning. Her heel caught in the cobblestone, ankle tweaking. It was a wonder that she hadn’t fallen, her hands catching herself on the door.

They were conversing as if she wasn’t there. Phoebe couldn’t make sense of the world over the blood surging in her veins. She tested her ankle, winced. Heat amplified everything, turned the dial to eleven on every sensation, and she felt the air rush out of her lungs. The joint throbbed, demanded her attention, but she couldn’t recall the spell, couldn’t find it in the mess in her thoughts. Everything was spinning again, but the scorching warmth was no longer quite as pleasant.

By the time she could make sense of her surroundings again, the bland man had disappeared. Wasting no energy on wondering about him, she pushed forward, favoring her good ankle. Some Healer, she thought derisively, but cut short her self-depreciation. There was still the matter of Ackerman.

He wasn’t far. Phoebe found him leaning against a wall, looking annoyingly striking. Against her will, a twinge of longing shot through her. It was entirely unfair. The universe should have punished him for leaving her so cruelly, should have dealt vengeance for her for all the sleepless nights his leaving had caused. She drew in a shuddering breath, aware for the first time of the chill of the night. She shifted her weight, fingers grasping for her wand. The Hawthorn met her fingers and her skin tightened in response. It slid eagerly into her hand. It was an anchor to reality as colours ran together in the rain. She needed to sit, soon, before everything washed away. But she could hold out a little while longer. She had to. He’d denied her closure for ten years, and she would abide it no longer.

“Ackerman,” it felt strange, using his surname. He’d always been Justin to her, ever since they had met on the train nearly fifteen years ago. “Why—“ she didn’t even know where to start with him. She swallowed. Her mouth had gone curiously dry. Fuck, she could barely see him like this, let alone conduct a proper Lockwood interrogation. When had it gotten so cold? “Where the hell have you been?”

Taco's Taco Truck! [High Casual-Advanced, Ignore Post Count]

Yeah, I'm a lot more familiar with 2. I finished the main campaign for 1 but never played its DLC or anything.
I'd love to write Maya. I write a decent Gaige as well, but Maya's my main squeeze.

there's no sea left for me [[ El Taco Taco && Anima ]]

Haha, super stoked!

Phoebe's hospital buddies are a close knit group, so this'll definitely cause issues there. Bwahaha. >:D

there's no sea left for me [[ El Taco Taco && Anima ]]

Phoebe had no idea what to make of the situation. An old bitterness blossomed in her chest, sleepless nights and endless questions flooding back as if someone had twisted a Time Turner back nearly a decade. She was seventeen all over again, her world shattering like so much glass. He’d left, practically disappeared. He’d severed everything between them without batting an eyelash, without deigning to explain anything to her. He’d dropped her as if she were an old plaything he had simply tired of. Phoebe had refused to accept it. She’d tried to hunt him down, to demand answers of him, but it had proven futile.

Someone approached, but Phoebe could barely keep her thoughts clear enough to process the impossibility that was Justin. He met her gaze and the curve of his mouth made her stomach drop. His words were so hard to follow, drowning in the bass and the pull of Heat. Even now, her body demanded she burn, and it took a conscious effort to access her faculties.

His words sunk in. Phoebe opened her mouth to tell him off, but he was turning his back on her, leaving her behind for a second time. He left her so easily. Her pride stung, demanded recompense, demanded answers. No—he didn’t get to just pop into her life and disappear again. Phoebe swore viciously, shaking her head in a mad bid to clear it, pushing her way through the crowd. Each touch sent a haze of pleasure through her brain and Merlin, it would be so easy to forget it. She could just turn around and let it be.

She grit her teeth, escaping the dance floor. The air was colder here, but she scarcely noticed. Hazel eyes scanned the club, dizzied by the lights. Distantly, she could hear Rhiannon flagging her down, but she caught sight of the bastard. He was leaving. Unbelievable.

If he went through that door, she knew she would never get answers, would never get the chance to rip him apart for what he had done to her, and Phoebe Lockwood couldn’t stand the thought. He didn’t get to shatter her world so easily.

Everything was a blur as she moved, but she had always been a singularly determined woman. Her target sighted, she stalked him down. Her knuckles whitened, the curve of her nails biting into her palms.

The door opened; the storm had somehow worsened, and the through the fog a part of her brain wondered if it was weather or magic. She was practically running, determined to catch him before he could apparate. There—she reached out, grasping for his arm, pulled.

“Who the hell do you think you are, Ackerman?” She snarled, privately impressed at the coherence of her words. The rain felt like needles, driving into her, crushing the Heat in her veins. But where the golden powder failed, her anger sustained her. “Ten years—ten fucking years and now you decide to show your face? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Phoebe gripped as tightly as she could. No way was she letting him slip away. She needed answers and she was going to have them, come hell or high water.

there's no sea left for me [[ El Taco Taco && Anima ]]

Bwahahaha. Phoebe's doing a bang up job of messing up her own life. Let's see how much she can ruin his, too! :D

Taco's Taco Truck! [High Casual-Advanced, Ignore Post Count]

Awww yisss, Borderlands. Who would you want to play?

there's no sea left for me [[ El Taco Taco && Anima ]]

The Heat was really kicking in now. Every nerve ending was alight, waves of light rippling through her skin. There was nothing but the music and the need to move, to never stop moving, and in that moment Phoebe thought she might never be cold again. Not when she felt this alive. She could feel the curl of magic at her spine, filling every crevice of her, burning away the shadows.

Ashlyn had disappeared somewhere, probably to dance with her beau, but there was no shortage of partners. Touch was something else entirely—shit she had forgotten how good it felt to burn with someone else. There were no words, but Phoebe didn’t mind. Everything was smoke and flame, every light a spark and she felt as though she might ignite herself. She tipped her head back, a purr rolling about her throat. Her pulse matched the bass, straining against her ribs. She had the mad impulse to crack them open, to let it escape, but the thoughts melted away before she could make sense of them.

Phoebe had no idea how long she’d been dancing. Did it matter? Nothing could compare to the flood of sensation. Someone grabbed her shoulder and it was like being branded. Sparks flooded her vision, shivers rolled down her spine and she let herself be turned, laughter bubbling in her throat. He was so much taller, and her brain filled in the blanks for her, lips twisting into a grin.

“Aeron!” Except the mediwizard was a bit taller than this man, and a lot lankier. Not Aeron, then. His voice was deeper, a bass that she wanted to wrap around herself and drown in. She knew that voice, but it was so hard to remember where she had heard it. Phoebe’s brows furrowed. For a moment, she thought she might be hallucinating. But he was so solid. She sucked in a sharp breath. No. No, this wasn’t—

“Jus… Justin?” She could barely breathe as she choked out his name. It couldn’t be him. He had left. He wouldn’t just show up out of the blue at some club nearly ten years later. That was pure madness. But now that she looked, how could it be anyone else? Once upon a time, she had known that face more dearly than her own. There were new lines on his face, hard living and long nights, but she knew she had them too. She took a step backwards, taking in the sight of him. Someone knocked into her back, igniting every inch of skin they had touched. Her pale fingers went to her forehead, trying to steady herself against the euphoric rush. Beneath the fog, there was a spark, fury building in her chest. The Heat coursing through her veins fanned the flames, swept over her. Her hazel eyes flashed like molten steel, a snarl threatening to rip from her throat,

“What the hell are you doing here?”