No worries! I know that feel.
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: 24 days ago
- Old Guild Username: El Taco Taco
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 1221 (0.27 / day)
- VMs: 2
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- 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
like
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
likes
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
“Chase. I bet you never have to tell baristas how to spell it, at least,” she repeated, lips quirked in a grin. Her own adventures in pronunciation and spelling were entertaining, to say the least. But she was determined to at least make up for her clumsiness. Anyone who could survive a stout getting spilled all over them and not be immediately put off forever was probably decent people. Carys resolved to make it up somehow—she was not a woman accustomed to leaving a debt unpaid.
He spoke suddenly, a little sharply, and Carys took a moment to process it. Join his friends? He suddenly backpedaled, and it was like watching a bike accident in slow motion. Carys only grinned wider, cocking her head to one side and letting him go on for a moment. It was a little comical, a little sweet, and she was thoroughly entertained. Lest her silence become cruel, she spoke up brightly, “More new people, yay!”
Her enthusiasm was genuine, despite the little red flag poking up in the back of her brain. But Port Byrne was…so very not Manhattan. She’d been here for less than forty eight hours, but there was just something…welcoming about it all? Sure, she might end up dead in a ditch, but she had the strangest feeling that they would be friendly about it. ‘Sorry about having to murder you, it’s just a thing that needs to get done, no hard feelings, have a beer before we axe your face in’ seemed very much in character.
“I’m like, eighty three percent sure she can find me when she’s done. Ooh, no, make it seventy six percent, I don’t think she’s used to looking down.” Carys shrugged her shoulders lightly. She’d always hoped she’d be tall—her father topped six foot and her mother had been nearly five ten. Apparently height skipped a generation, and she found herself eye and eye with her grandmothers. Unfair, she mused, although helpful when sneaking.
“Lead on,” she gestured out with her, mostly empty, beer bottle into the night.
He spoke suddenly, a little sharply, and Carys took a moment to process it. Join his friends? He suddenly backpedaled, and it was like watching a bike accident in slow motion. Carys only grinned wider, cocking her head to one side and letting him go on for a moment. It was a little comical, a little sweet, and she was thoroughly entertained. Lest her silence become cruel, she spoke up brightly, “More new people, yay!”
Her enthusiasm was genuine, despite the little red flag poking up in the back of her brain. But Port Byrne was…so very not Manhattan. She’d been here for less than forty eight hours, but there was just something…welcoming about it all? Sure, she might end up dead in a ditch, but she had the strangest feeling that they would be friendly about it. ‘Sorry about having to murder you, it’s just a thing that needs to get done, no hard feelings, have a beer before we axe your face in’ seemed very much in character.
“I’m like, eighty three percent sure she can find me when she’s done. Ooh, no, make it seventy six percent, I don’t think she’s used to looking down.” Carys shrugged her shoulders lightly. She’d always hoped she’d be tall—her father topped six foot and her mother had been nearly five ten. Apparently height skipped a generation, and she found herself eye and eye with her grandmothers. Unfair, she mused, although helpful when sneaking.
“Lead on,” she gestured out with her, mostly empty, beer bottle into the night.
Sarai will, eventually, be less of a butt. Probably. One day.
I swear she's actually nice. >.> Promise.
I swear she's actually nice. >.> Promise.
Merlins. Sagging. Scrotum.
For a long moment, Sarai stared in stunned silence. She blinked intelligently. Hazel eyes slooooowly moved down to look at the hand clasping hers. She blinked again and looked down to meet eyes with the wizard kneeling in front of her .
“What,” she said flatly, paused, and tried again. “What are you doing ?”
She could feel her father's presence beside her, that barely audible huff of restrained laughter. She might have found it funny too if it had been happening to literally anyone else. Except, it was her old classmate, who was supposed to mind her like a child telling her to give him a pretty smile.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
Sarai Shacklebolt did not smile. She jut out her chin and reclaimed her hand, perhaps rather more forcibly than was necessary. Looking at her father, who had that fucking impossible calm on his features, and spoke archly, “This is your fault.”
“I know,” he said. He looked to Higgs the Bafflingly Obnoxious, still placid. How any one human managed such endless calm ought to be the most pressing research in the Department of Mysteries, she mused. “I trust you will give this assignment your utmost attention. It is, perhaps, not the most—traditional route,” and Sarai could only wonder what he meant, only knew that it was part of the snake in her father, the green and silver he had worn decades ago, and resolved to figure out what real meaning lay behind those words. “But, if an old man may impart some advice—there are many paths there.”
Sarai grit her teeth, ignoring the irrational surge of envy. How dare Higgs the Bafflingly Obnoxious earn her father’s wisdom, his goodness? She had decided him unworthy already—why would he be given that gift, when it was so hard won among even his own children? Was it that much easier for him to give his heart to his Aurors? Was this why Amir had followed his footsteps into the aftermath of war and a broken world?
“Minister?” That reedy voice came with a gentle knock on his oak door. Kingsley glanced to his watch, and nodded towards them.
“Ah, I believe my two o’clock is here,” and Sarai huffed, debated on leaving, and promptly wrapped her arms around her father’s middle.
“I’m still mad at you,” she muttered. He simply smiled as she pulled away, searching her face for something. She could see something flicker across his eyes—fear? Concern? She had never been quite able to read him. The moment passed, and he inclined his head towards the door.
“Until next time,” he spoke, and Sarai nodded, leaving Higgs in a swish of dark hair and the occasional clatter of her flats.
She walked quickly, head high, hands clenched into fists at her side, as if she could shake him. The ante room was filled with men and women in robes and her father’s assistant, who had at least improved his demeanor in the past half hour. Sarai smiled tightly, slipping out the door to the empty hall and making it halfway down its black marble before finally stopping and wheeling on her bleeding nanny.
“Look,” her voice was sharp, and she hated how her temper burned in her veins. This wasn’t her, wasn’t who she wanted to be. She’d thought she was better than this, kinder, but it was hard to get past the red. “Neither of us want to deal with this, right? So let’s simply not and go our separate ways, all the happier for it.”
It was worth a shot, as impossible as she knew it to be. If she couldn’t defy her father, how could she reasonably expect one of his underlings? Still, if there was a soft joint in any of this, she suspected it would be Higgs himself.
For a long moment, Sarai stared in stunned silence. She blinked intelligently. Hazel eyes slooooowly moved down to look at the hand clasping hers. She blinked again and looked down to meet eyes with the wizard kneeling in front of her .
“What,” she said flatly, paused, and tried again. “What are you doing ?”
She could feel her father's presence beside her, that barely audible huff of restrained laughter. She might have found it funny too if it had been happening to literally anyone else. Except, it was her old classmate, who was supposed to mind her like a child telling her to give him a pretty smile.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
Sarai Shacklebolt did not smile. She jut out her chin and reclaimed her hand, perhaps rather more forcibly than was necessary. Looking at her father, who had that fucking impossible calm on his features, and spoke archly, “This is your fault.”
“I know,” he said. He looked to Higgs the Bafflingly Obnoxious, still placid. How any one human managed such endless calm ought to be the most pressing research in the Department of Mysteries, she mused. “I trust you will give this assignment your utmost attention. It is, perhaps, not the most—traditional route,” and Sarai could only wonder what he meant, only knew that it was part of the snake in her father, the green and silver he had worn decades ago, and resolved to figure out what real meaning lay behind those words. “But, if an old man may impart some advice—there are many paths there.”
Sarai grit her teeth, ignoring the irrational surge of envy. How dare Higgs the Bafflingly Obnoxious earn her father’s wisdom, his goodness? She had decided him unworthy already—why would he be given that gift, when it was so hard won among even his own children? Was it that much easier for him to give his heart to his Aurors? Was this why Amir had followed his footsteps into the aftermath of war and a broken world?
“Minister?” That reedy voice came with a gentle knock on his oak door. Kingsley glanced to his watch, and nodded towards them.
“Ah, I believe my two o’clock is here,” and Sarai huffed, debated on leaving, and promptly wrapped her arms around her father’s middle.
“I’m still mad at you,” she muttered. He simply smiled as she pulled away, searching her face for something. She could see something flicker across his eyes—fear? Concern? She had never been quite able to read him. The moment passed, and he inclined his head towards the door.
“Until next time,” he spoke, and Sarai nodded, leaving Higgs in a swish of dark hair and the occasional clatter of her flats.
She walked quickly, head high, hands clenched into fists at her side, as if she could shake him. The ante room was filled with men and women in robes and her father’s assistant, who had at least improved his demeanor in the past half hour. Sarai smiled tightly, slipping out the door to the empty hall and making it halfway down its black marble before finally stopping and wheeling on her bleeding nanny.
“Look,” her voice was sharp, and she hated how her temper burned in her veins. This wasn’t her, wasn’t who she wanted to be. She’d thought she was better than this, kinder, but it was hard to get past the red. “Neither of us want to deal with this, right? So let’s simply not and go our separate ways, all the happier for it.”
It was worth a shot, as impossible as she knew it to be. If she couldn’t defy her father, how could she reasonably expect one of his underlings? Still, if there was a soft joint in any of this, she suspected it would be Higgs himself.
AUDREY ELAH SCHULTZ
Like a heartbeat drives you madIn the stillness of remembering what you had
And what you lost, and what you had, and what you lost.
Age: Twenty Four
Date of Birth: January 22nd
Appearance:
Audrey is endless legs and cheekbones so sharp they could kill a man. 175 cm and willowy, she won big in the genetic lottery. A simple arch of her brows can mean a myriad of things, from amusement to complete disdain, and she can drop vicious insults and sage advice from expertly painted lips at the drop of a hat. She’s a connoisseur of fashion, with a keen eye for dressing herself as though every space is a runway—and in nacho stained t-shirts and sweats behind closed doors.
Date of Birth: January 22nd
Appearance:
Audrey is endless legs and cheekbones so sharp they could kill a man. 175 cm and willowy, she won big in the genetic lottery. A simple arch of her brows can mean a myriad of things, from amusement to complete disdain, and she can drop vicious insults and sage advice from expertly painted lips at the drop of a hat. She’s a connoisseur of fashion, with a keen eye for dressing herself as though every space is a runway—and in nacho stained t-shirts and sweats behind closed doors.
If she'd been back in Manhattan, he'd have probably let her fall and cussed her out for her spacing out. Although she would have likely headed him off with choice insults of her own--she'd learned how to hold her own after ten years of living in the city. The whole ‘not being dropped and sworn at’ thing was, admittedly, a little charming. That evaluation was probably more due to the beer she'd had back home and the lack of food in her stomach, but she breezed past the thought.
“Other than my utterly ruined dignity, I'm fine,” Carys grinned, shoulders shrugging. He asked about her company and Carys moved to her tip toes, trying to see over the mass of heads to find Audrey. “Ah, yeah, my roommate she just--took a call--”
No dice. Audrey had vanished in the throng of people, and Carys felt her stomach drop. What if Audrey had decided that she didn't like her and--Carys shoved that thought down. Somehow, Audrey didn't seem like the kind of girl to keep her opinions to herself.
Suddenly there was a sprawl of limbs and male laughter in front of her. Carys dropped back to flat feet, a bemused grin crossing her face as another man captured her company in a headlock, only to be shooed off a moment later. She quirked a brow, grin widening as she shifted her weight to one foot.
“Interesting friend you have there--ah, what was it, Casanova?” There was no malice in her gentle teasing, grey eyes dancing with mirth. Manners suddenly returned to her and she spoke with laughter in her voice. “Sorry--I'm Carys. Please tell me Casanova is actually your name, because that would be hilariously awful.”
“Other than my utterly ruined dignity, I'm fine,” Carys grinned, shoulders shrugging. He asked about her company and Carys moved to her tip toes, trying to see over the mass of heads to find Audrey. “Ah, yeah, my roommate she just--took a call--”
No dice. Audrey had vanished in the throng of people, and Carys felt her stomach drop. What if Audrey had decided that she didn't like her and--Carys shoved that thought down. Somehow, Audrey didn't seem like the kind of girl to keep her opinions to herself.
Suddenly there was a sprawl of limbs and male laughter in front of her. Carys dropped back to flat feet, a bemused grin crossing her face as another man captured her company in a headlock, only to be shooed off a moment later. She quirked a brow, grin widening as she shifted her weight to one foot.
“Interesting friend you have there--ah, what was it, Casanova?” There was no malice in her gentle teasing, grey eyes dancing with mirth. Manners suddenly returned to her and she spoke with laughter in her voice. “Sorry--I'm Carys. Please tell me Casanova is actually your name, because that would be hilariously awful.”
Bleh, Everett. I will forever be bitter and loathe it that my bestie had to move there and be 2 hours away. Fuck you, Navy, making our misadventures slightly more inconvenient. Why yes, I am extremely petty.
Also, that is 1000% butts. What jerks.
Awwww ye. Looking forward to it!
Also, that is 1000% butts. What jerks.
Awwww ye. Looking forward to it!
Oh Tristan, you sweet, summer child.
I probably won't be able to post for a little bit--my ride should be picking me up soon and I need to walk my pups, but I'll have a post up asap. I have too many ideas and snark bubbling around in my brain not to
I probably won't be able to post for a little bit--my ride should be picking me up soon and I need to walk my pups, but I'll have a post up asap. I have too many ideas and snark bubbling around in my brain not to
Oh yeah, I always see those job postings! Small interwebs indeed! I live in Kitsap and I took the Stabberton Bremerton Ferry to Seattle for school every day for 3 years. Not sure if Im willing to do it for a night shift, haha!
I'm waiting to hear back from UW for an advising job that I think (knock on wood) that I'm a shoe in for, so fingers crossed there.
I'm waiting to hear back from UW for an advising job that I think (knock on wood) that I'm a shoe in for, so fingers crossed there.
“Come on, Carys. Trust me when I say that this party is The Party in Port Byrne; the whole town is going to be there. You've got to come.”
Barely two hours after unloading her moving truck into the bungalow she was renting, and her new roommate was pushing for her to go to a party. The Party, rather. Carys ran a hand through her dark hair, trying not to let the exhaustion of moving furniture sour her mood. Audrey looked at her, an expertly arched brow quirking expectedly. They'd emailed and video chatted a few times before Carys had signed the lease and uprooted herself from New York, but nothing could have prepared Carys for the sheer will emanating from the leggy, dark skinned woman.
“The Party, huh?” Carys asked, sat on one of her larger boxes, looking out the massive bay window to the distant sea. It was strange to think that this was hers -- this beautiful sprawl of a house, this fresh air, the path down to the water. And yet, it rang hollow in her chest. She would have given anything to go back a year, to her cramped Manhattan apartment, and have her mum back. She'd left Carys her childhood home, her keelboat, and asked her to come to Port Byrne, where her mother had grown up those many years ago. It had taken Carys a nearly a year of endless paperwork and meetings with lawyers to get here. Perhaps, she mused with a tired smile, The Party was what she needed.
“Alright,” Carys nodded, storm grey eyes crinkling in a tired smile as she rose to her feet. “I'll go.”
The sun had long since sunk beneath the sea when they set out. Audrey had been kind enough to lend her something cute and, remarkably, in her size. The high-waisted shorts were cut, she had thought, rather short for a late night on the beach. Audrey had laughed, shaking her head, and Carys was again reminded that she was no longer in frigid New England. The tucked tank top and red flannel were comfortable, and Carys had dug in a box for a pair of sandals. Hair braided loosely to one side, she felt surprisingly rejuvenated by a simple shower and clean clothes, even after a long day of unloading while still jetlagged from the nine hour flight the day before.
Audrey filled her in on all the Must Do Things as they walked their lazy mile along the sand. Carys tried to remember them all; apparently this new home was much more lively than she had anticipated.
The fires and music were impressive all on their own, but the crowd was...well, almost overwhelming, even for her. Carys let Audrey lead the way, smiling wide as the taller woman introduced her to someone every few feet. Audrey hadn't been exaggerating, Carys marveled; she wouldn't be surprised if everyone was here. They were beyond friendly, and Carys found herself recharging, laughing and bright eyed.
“Oh, I've got a call--I'll find you when I'm done,” Audrey said suddenly, slipping away as Carys smiled and looked around. She felt a little lost, surrounded by laughter and joy and familiarity; she could see why her late mother had wanted her to come, but she didn't really fit yet--
She had been walking absently, a bottle of some local beer in hand, when she managed to collide directly with someone else. Her sandal slipped on the soft sand and she felt the jolt of falling, stomach lurching as she dropped and then suddenly stopped .
Someone had caught her, managed to keep them both from falling, and she'd sloshed a truly amazing stout on both of them. Carys blinked intelligently. Looking at her unfortunate rescuer, she quirked her lips in a wry half grin.
“Oops,” Carys said anticlimactically. She hastily shifted to return to her own footing, stepping back as they extracted and righted themselves. Wincing apologetically, she glanced down to survey the damage. Stout had stained her borrowed shirt a pale brown and his own was in no better shape. Shit.
“I'm really sorry about that,” she winced, looking up into blue eyes with a self depreciating laugh. “I wasn't paying attention, it's my bad. I'll get you a new shirt, I promise.”
Worst first impression ever, Carys.
Barely two hours after unloading her moving truck into the bungalow she was renting, and her new roommate was pushing for her to go to a party. The Party, rather. Carys ran a hand through her dark hair, trying not to let the exhaustion of moving furniture sour her mood. Audrey looked at her, an expertly arched brow quirking expectedly. They'd emailed and video chatted a few times before Carys had signed the lease and uprooted herself from New York, but nothing could have prepared Carys for the sheer will emanating from the leggy, dark skinned woman.
“The Party, huh?” Carys asked, sat on one of her larger boxes, looking out the massive bay window to the distant sea. It was strange to think that this was hers -- this beautiful sprawl of a house, this fresh air, the path down to the water. And yet, it rang hollow in her chest. She would have given anything to go back a year, to her cramped Manhattan apartment, and have her mum back. She'd left Carys her childhood home, her keelboat, and asked her to come to Port Byrne, where her mother had grown up those many years ago. It had taken Carys a nearly a year of endless paperwork and meetings with lawyers to get here. Perhaps, she mused with a tired smile, The Party was what she needed.
“Alright,” Carys nodded, storm grey eyes crinkling in a tired smile as she rose to her feet. “I'll go.”
The sun had long since sunk beneath the sea when they set out. Audrey had been kind enough to lend her something cute and, remarkably, in her size. The high-waisted shorts were cut, she had thought, rather short for a late night on the beach. Audrey had laughed, shaking her head, and Carys was again reminded that she was no longer in frigid New England. The tucked tank top and red flannel were comfortable, and Carys had dug in a box for a pair of sandals. Hair braided loosely to one side, she felt surprisingly rejuvenated by a simple shower and clean clothes, even after a long day of unloading while still jetlagged from the nine hour flight the day before.
Audrey filled her in on all the Must Do Things as they walked their lazy mile along the sand. Carys tried to remember them all; apparently this new home was much more lively than she had anticipated.
The fires and music were impressive all on their own, but the crowd was...well, almost overwhelming, even for her. Carys let Audrey lead the way, smiling wide as the taller woman introduced her to someone every few feet. Audrey hadn't been exaggerating, Carys marveled; she wouldn't be surprised if everyone was here. They were beyond friendly, and Carys found herself recharging, laughing and bright eyed.
“Oh, I've got a call--I'll find you when I'm done,” Audrey said suddenly, slipping away as Carys smiled and looked around. She felt a little lost, surrounded by laughter and joy and familiarity; she could see why her late mother had wanted her to come, but she didn't really fit yet--
She had been walking absently, a bottle of some local beer in hand, when she managed to collide directly with someone else. Her sandal slipped on the soft sand and she felt the jolt of falling, stomach lurching as she dropped and then suddenly stopped .
Someone had caught her, managed to keep them both from falling, and she'd sloshed a truly amazing stout on both of them. Carys blinked intelligently. Looking at her unfortunate rescuer, she quirked her lips in a wry half grin.
“Oops,” Carys said anticlimactically. She hastily shifted to return to her own footing, stepping back as they extracted and righted themselves. Wincing apologetically, she glanced down to survey the damage. Stout had stained her borrowed shirt a pale brown and his own was in no better shape. Shit.
“I'm really sorry about that,” she winced, looking up into blue eyes with a self depreciating laugh. “I wasn't paying attention, it's my bad. I'll get you a new shirt, I promise.”
Worst first impression ever, Carys.
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