El Taco Taco
Member
Schist happens.
STATUS: 'I know the Goliath Fucking Bird-Eating Spider can't fly because if it could, it would have a different name entirely. We would call it "sir" because it would be the dominant species on the planet.' 8 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 27 days ago
- Old Guild Username: El Taco Taco
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 1221 (0.27 / day)
- VMs: 2
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Username history
- El Taco Taco 12 yrs ago
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TheDookieNut,
Cream
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Recent Statuses
8 yrs ago
Current
'I know the Goliath Fucking Bird-Eating Spider can't fly because if it could, it would have a different name entirely. We would call it "sir" because it would be the dominant species on the planet.'
7
likes
8 yrs ago
'There is no word in the English language for the feeling someone gets when they suddenly realize they're standing next to an unholy monster impersonating a human. Monstralization, maybe?'
2
likes
8 yrs ago
'If Zoey Ashe had known she was being stalked by a man who intended to kill her and then slowly eat her bones, she would've worried more about that and less about getting her cat off the roof.'
1
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9 yrs ago
"And watch out for Molly. See if she does anything unusual. There’s something I don’t trust about the way she exploded and then came back from the dead like that."
7
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9 yrs ago
"We're talking about a tentacled flying lamp fucker, Dave. What are you prepared to call unlikely?"
2
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Bio
"OK, I've just about had my FILL of riddle-asking, quest-assigning, insult-throwing, pun-hurling, hostage-taking, iron-mongering, smart-arsed fools, freaks, and felons that continually test my will, mettle, strength, intelligence, and most of all, patience! If you've got a straight answer ANYWHERE in that bent little head of yours, I want to hear it pretty damn quick or I'm going to take a large blunt object roughly the size of Elminster AND his hat, and stuff it lengthwise into a crevice of your being so seldom seen that even the denizens of the nine hells themselves wouldn't touch it with a twenty-foot rusty halberd! Have I MADE myself perfectly CLEAR?!" - CHARNAME, Baldur's Gate
Most Recent Posts
All around the stactus plant the stalker chased the bandit, the stalker thought twas all in fun, BUMP goes the bandit!
Go for it! Sounds good to me.
I would appreciate that. If you can't get to it by Tuesday I will start us off. (:
Makes sense. Those pesky lingering blood supremacists would definitely be out for revenge, I'm sure.
Who to start? I'm getting ready to go out for the evening and I'll be pretty busy this weekend, so I wouldn't be able to put anything up until Sunday at the earliest, but more likely Monday or Tuesday morning.
Who to start? I'm getting ready to go out for the evening and I'll be pretty busy this weekend, so I wouldn't be able to put anything up until Sunday at the earliest, but more likely Monday or Tuesday morning.
That sounds amazeballs Fern! *_*
I'll try to have my IC post up by Sunday, but hubs has this weekend off so I won't be around as much. Super excited though!!
Also, I seriously died laughing about half a million times while reading the intro. I love it so much. Skull, you're amazing!
I'll try to have my IC post up by Sunday, but hubs has this weekend off so I won't be around as much. Super excited though!!
Also, I seriously died laughing about half a million times while reading the intro. I love it so much. Skull, you're amazing!
Katie Bell || 20 || Gryffindor || Pureblood || Reserve Chaser for the Falmouth Falcons || Ash, 7 1/4", Unicorn Hair
Oliver Wood || 24 || Gryffindor || Pureblood || Captain and Keeper for Puddlemere United || Ebony, 10 2/3", Dragon Heartstring
Bwaha, I love it. Those pureblood snobs do love their pomp. P:
Yeah, Phoebe's been through some shit. A lot of it she's made worse with bad decisions and extremely flawed coping mechanisms, but she does mean well. She's just kind of over having everything go kerfuckity. >:
Yeah, Phoebe's been through some shit. A lot of it she's made worse with bad decisions and extremely flawed coping mechanisms, but she does mean well. She's just kind of over having everything go kerfuckity. >:
He sat back down, and Phoebe didn’t know what to make of it. Merlin, she was a wreck, and she hated her vulnerability. She was a Slytherin—no snake worth their salt would show their belly like this. But he was sitting, and even if he was mocking her, at least he hadn’t left. It was petty and bitter and spiteful but she couldn’t handle him leaving her again. No, that right belonged to her. Damn if she would let him take that victory, however small and meaningless.
There was something achingly familiar in his voice. She was seventeen again, clambering onto rooftops of Hogwarts and calling him after her, watching the stars and tracing fortunes, dreaming of their future together. She couldn’t have imagined that he’d disappear only weeks later. It had been as mad as the sun failing to rise. His words were different—and she felt a wave of dread crashing over her as they slowly began to make sense in her brain.
Don’t look kindly upon half-bloods and muggles. She was well versed enough in doublespeak to know what that meant, and she found herself horrified. Phoebe had been too young to go to Hogwarts when the war struck, had been kept locked inside the family manor, a dozen protective charms woven into her clothes. Her father had collapsed in relief when it had all ended; it had been the first time she’d ever seen him cry. She had been so lucky; she worked with people whose entire families had been decimated, who had been tortured in Azkaban and still bore the scars, over fifteen years later.
“You foolish boy,” she whispered, blanching. He’d taken her hand and if she had been a better woman, she would have ripped away from him. Phoebe knew she should, for self-preservation alone, never mind the principle of the matter. But his hands were as warm as fire, and he looked… scared wasn’t quite right. Haunted. Drawn. She knew that look well. She was being foolish, she knew. He wasn’t the boy she had loved so desperately, but she could see glimpses of him and she was too selfish to dismiss him entirely. Not yet. Tomorrow, maybe, when her mind was clear and she could have the will to do the right thing.
He mentioned her family again, and Merlin, it wasn’t fair. She studied him; perhaps he was twisting the knife in the wound. But he seemed sincere enough, as far as she could tell. Not that her judgment meant much, but Phoebe had nothing else to go on.
A bitter laugh slipped from her lips. It was almost truly funny. Phoebe would have appreciated the humor more if she hadn’t lived through it.
“What family? Your intel’s shit,” she ran her free hand through her hair, trying not to sound hysterical. “My sainted husband left me,” she couldn’t keep the vicious bite out of her words, no matter how hard she tried. She averted her gaze, to the cup of tea he’d ordered her, hated how small and frail she felt. She tried very hard to sound calm, but her voice went flat and hollow, “I lost our child. He didn’t take it well.”
There was something achingly familiar in his voice. She was seventeen again, clambering onto rooftops of Hogwarts and calling him after her, watching the stars and tracing fortunes, dreaming of their future together. She couldn’t have imagined that he’d disappear only weeks later. It had been as mad as the sun failing to rise. His words were different—and she felt a wave of dread crashing over her as they slowly began to make sense in her brain.
Don’t look kindly upon half-bloods and muggles. She was well versed enough in doublespeak to know what that meant, and she found herself horrified. Phoebe had been too young to go to Hogwarts when the war struck, had been kept locked inside the family manor, a dozen protective charms woven into her clothes. Her father had collapsed in relief when it had all ended; it had been the first time she’d ever seen him cry. She had been so lucky; she worked with people whose entire families had been decimated, who had been tortured in Azkaban and still bore the scars, over fifteen years later.
“You foolish boy,” she whispered, blanching. He’d taken her hand and if she had been a better woman, she would have ripped away from him. Phoebe knew she should, for self-preservation alone, never mind the principle of the matter. But his hands were as warm as fire, and he looked… scared wasn’t quite right. Haunted. Drawn. She knew that look well. She was being foolish, she knew. He wasn’t the boy she had loved so desperately, but she could see glimpses of him and she was too selfish to dismiss him entirely. Not yet. Tomorrow, maybe, when her mind was clear and she could have the will to do the right thing.
He mentioned her family again, and Merlin, it wasn’t fair. She studied him; perhaps he was twisting the knife in the wound. But he seemed sincere enough, as far as she could tell. Not that her judgment meant much, but Phoebe had nothing else to go on.
A bitter laugh slipped from her lips. It was almost truly funny. Phoebe would have appreciated the humor more if she hadn’t lived through it.
“What family? Your intel’s shit,” she ran her free hand through her hair, trying not to sound hysterical. “My sainted husband left me,” she couldn’t keep the vicious bite out of her words, no matter how hard she tried. She averted her gaze, to the cup of tea he’d ordered her, hated how small and frail she felt. She tried very hard to sound calm, but her voice went flat and hollow, “I lost our child. He didn’t take it well.”
Awwww yissss, mothafuckin posty goodness. So fucking stoked. :D :D :D
Bleh, double post.
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