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: 28 days ago
- Old Guild Username: El Taco Taco
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 1221 (0.27 / day)
- VMs: 2
-
Username history
- El Taco Taco 12 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
TheDookieNut,
Cream
Status
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
likes
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
In
Taco's Taco Truck! [High Casual-Advanced, Ignore Post Count]
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: 1x1 Interest Checks
Bump! I'm back from my mini-hiatus and should be hella active for the next little while!
The last time they had ramped up testing like this, they had been selecting their pilot for the trial run. The Good Captain had outclassed them all with his physical and mental ability, breezing through every challenge with a good natured smile. In the two and a half weeks she had known him, Olivia had never heard him complain. She hadn’t minded losing out the pilot’s seat to him—he was the best of them. A natural leader, the Good Captain had been the obvious choice. It had been easy to believe in him. If it had been him taking the fight to the Kaiju, they would never have had to worry.
She hadn’t thought her hope so fragile, but one seizure and a secret burial later had proven her wrong. Maybe it was because the Good Captain looked so much like she imagined John would have in his coffin, if there’d been a body to bury. He’d somehow even looked heroic in his desperately unheroic death and his shameful funeral. John’s had been all ceremony and thousands of people strong as they buried their loved ones beneath canon fire and bugles, but it hadn’t felt as real as the Good Captain’s. Perhaps it was the knowledge that this coffin wasn’t empty that had made it worse than John’s.
Olivia did her best to keep her maudlin thoughts at bay—if she wanted that pilot’s seat, she couldn’t hold herself back with something as weak as grief. The testing usually kept her too focused to let her thoughts disrupt her, and there was something about being in the clinic that gave her the strength to keep calm and lie when the docs asked probing questions (”Do you feel guilty for your brother’s death?” “No sir.” “Have you ever considered killing yourself?” “No sir.” “Why are you here?” “To serve my country, sir.”)
Sparring was the best bit, a chance to get her energy out in vicious strikes and the artistry of the back and forth that she’d loved since she was a little girl. She’d followed John along after school to his gym and started fighting in her bid to be just like him. He eventually dropped boxing for football, but Olivia had loved it too much to quit. Even here in this snowy hellhole, she found herself craving the rush of the dance. The chance to knock Clemens on his ass was a bonus.
Outside of testing, the only place Olivia felt at peace was in the gym with a pair of gloves and a heavy bag. There was something tangible about beating down on vinyl and stuffing. Someone had, rather artfully, painted a caricature of Trespasser on it. Every moment she could spare, she found herself working through routines, bass pounding in her ears, blood running hot. The painted heavy bag was a poor substitute for the real thing, but it was the closest she’d come in the past year and a half.
Working until exhaustion was nothing new to Olivia. She’d been through the process in flight school and out in the fleet hundreds of times. Privately, she suspected the lack of consistent sleep cycles was shaving years off her life, but concerns like that hadn’t really mattered since K-Day. The strain in her arms told her it was finally time to stop. An injury now would be the ultimate slap in the face. She’d sat out K-Day with a broken arm, and she certainly wasn’t doing that again. Olivia slung her towel about her neck and unhooked the eighty pound bag, carrying it to its rightful home and stacking it neatly.
She dreaded the thought of returning to her barracks. She had been spoiled for the past three weeks, with the room all to her own. Olivia had lived in tighter quarters with more women before, but their bunkroom had been a proper home, cramped as it was. It had soul and women she knew and trusted. Perhaps it was unfair to pass judgement. She hadn’t exactly been the friendliest of people before K-Day, but she’d certainly been more tolerant. Rubbing the back of her neck, Olivia found herself beating the familiar path back to her least favorite place in the Proving Grounds. She couldn’t avoid it forever, after all. Besides, they were probably off playing cards again.
-
No such luck. Olivia shouldered in through the door, dropping her bag on her desk and realizing rather awkwardly that Shankari had come to attention. She’d never enjoyed being saluted or people rising for her, even more so out of uniform. She hardly looked a proper Lieutenant like this, her dark hair in a messy pony tail, face slick with sweat, tattoos snaking out of her matching pink PT gear, still a little out of breath.
“Uh, at ease,” Olivia was promptly accosted by the exceptionally tall one (fucking Christ, did she eat HGH as a kid or something?), and was a little taken aback. Shit, she’d underestimated how overworked her brain was. It took her a moment to process what the woman, Ribsy, had said. She shook her hand and tried for a friendly smile, although it came off more as a grimace.
“You don’t need to call me by my slave name,” the joke was a little dry, and she instantly regretted it. She’d forgotten how much she fucking sucked at talking to people. There was a reason she was a pilot instead of a communications officer. She dropped the woman’s hand. “Olivia Murphy. Uh,” she tried to think of something intelligent to say, “Enjoy your first proper day, then?”
Wow, Olivia, you might be the single worst maker of small talk in the history of the whole world.
She hadn’t thought her hope so fragile, but one seizure and a secret burial later had proven her wrong. Maybe it was because the Good Captain looked so much like she imagined John would have in his coffin, if there’d been a body to bury. He’d somehow even looked heroic in his desperately unheroic death and his shameful funeral. John’s had been all ceremony and thousands of people strong as they buried their loved ones beneath canon fire and bugles, but it hadn’t felt as real as the Good Captain’s. Perhaps it was the knowledge that this coffin wasn’t empty that had made it worse than John’s.
Olivia did her best to keep her maudlin thoughts at bay—if she wanted that pilot’s seat, she couldn’t hold herself back with something as weak as grief. The testing usually kept her too focused to let her thoughts disrupt her, and there was something about being in the clinic that gave her the strength to keep calm and lie when the docs asked probing questions (”Do you feel guilty for your brother’s death?” “No sir.” “Have you ever considered killing yourself?” “No sir.” “Why are you here?” “To serve my country, sir.”)
Sparring was the best bit, a chance to get her energy out in vicious strikes and the artistry of the back and forth that she’d loved since she was a little girl. She’d followed John along after school to his gym and started fighting in her bid to be just like him. He eventually dropped boxing for football, but Olivia had loved it too much to quit. Even here in this snowy hellhole, she found herself craving the rush of the dance. The chance to knock Clemens on his ass was a bonus.
Outside of testing, the only place Olivia felt at peace was in the gym with a pair of gloves and a heavy bag. There was something tangible about beating down on vinyl and stuffing. Someone had, rather artfully, painted a caricature of Trespasser on it. Every moment she could spare, she found herself working through routines, bass pounding in her ears, blood running hot. The painted heavy bag was a poor substitute for the real thing, but it was the closest she’d come in the past year and a half.
Working until exhaustion was nothing new to Olivia. She’d been through the process in flight school and out in the fleet hundreds of times. Privately, she suspected the lack of consistent sleep cycles was shaving years off her life, but concerns like that hadn’t really mattered since K-Day. The strain in her arms told her it was finally time to stop. An injury now would be the ultimate slap in the face. She’d sat out K-Day with a broken arm, and she certainly wasn’t doing that again. Olivia slung her towel about her neck and unhooked the eighty pound bag, carrying it to its rightful home and stacking it neatly.
She dreaded the thought of returning to her barracks. She had been spoiled for the past three weeks, with the room all to her own. Olivia had lived in tighter quarters with more women before, but their bunkroom had been a proper home, cramped as it was. It had soul and women she knew and trusted. Perhaps it was unfair to pass judgement. She hadn’t exactly been the friendliest of people before K-Day, but she’d certainly been more tolerant. Rubbing the back of her neck, Olivia found herself beating the familiar path back to her least favorite place in the Proving Grounds. She couldn’t avoid it forever, after all. Besides, they were probably off playing cards again.
-
No such luck. Olivia shouldered in through the door, dropping her bag on her desk and realizing rather awkwardly that Shankari had come to attention. She’d never enjoyed being saluted or people rising for her, even more so out of uniform. She hardly looked a proper Lieutenant like this, her dark hair in a messy pony tail, face slick with sweat, tattoos snaking out of her matching pink PT gear, still a little out of breath.
“Uh, at ease,” Olivia was promptly accosted by the exceptionally tall one (fucking Christ, did she eat HGH as a kid or something?), and was a little taken aback. Shit, she’d underestimated how overworked her brain was. It took her a moment to process what the woman, Ribsy, had said. She shook her hand and tried for a friendly smile, although it came off more as a grimace.
“You don’t need to call me by my slave name,” the joke was a little dry, and she instantly regretted it. She’d forgotten how much she fucking sucked at talking to people. There was a reason she was a pilot instead of a communications officer. She dropped the woman’s hand. “Olivia Murphy. Uh,” she tried to think of something intelligent to say, “Enjoy your first proper day, then?”
Wow, Olivia, you might be the single worst maker of small talk in the history of the whole world.
He had never seen a farm? How strange. Or was it? Did wizards have farms? And if they did, did they have normal animals on them, or magical ones? She realized that she had no idea what animals existed in the wizarding world, and she wasn’t sure how she’d go about learning about that. None of her textbooks had made any mention of beasts, magical or not. Perhaps she hadn’t found the relevant sections yet? Sadie filed the thought away.
“You aren’t missing much,” she informed him with a shrug, “Picture the quietest, smelliest place you can, and it’s still probably more exciting than Hankerton. I mean, I’ll miss mum and dad and Arfur, but I definitely won’t miss cleaning up after the cows at five in the morning.”
Sadie flipped over the first of her cards—the two of diamonds, and she was very impressed with the way the red diamonds spun and glittered—paying mind as he explained sorting.
“A magic hat?” She queried with a grin, because really, it all sounded a bit ridiculous. Of course, she reminded herself, she’d just eaten a jelly bean that tasted of wood varnish and was playing snap with cards that were due to explode, so… perhaps her sense of what was sensible was obsolete in this world. She considered his words for another moment, popping a jelly bean into her mouth. Ooh, tiramisu! And not just the flavor, but the texture, and she could have sworn she was actually eating a piece… that was pretty awesome. “Why do people want to be in those houses?”
“You aren’t missing much,” she informed him with a shrug, “Picture the quietest, smelliest place you can, and it’s still probably more exciting than Hankerton. I mean, I’ll miss mum and dad and Arfur, but I definitely won’t miss cleaning up after the cows at five in the morning.”
Sadie flipped over the first of her cards—the two of diamonds, and she was very impressed with the way the red diamonds spun and glittered—paying mind as he explained sorting.
“A magic hat?” She queried with a grin, because really, it all sounded a bit ridiculous. Of course, she reminded herself, she’d just eaten a jelly bean that tasted of wood varnish and was playing snap with cards that were due to explode, so… perhaps her sense of what was sensible was obsolete in this world. She considered his words for another moment, popping a jelly bean into her mouth. Ooh, tiramisu! And not just the flavor, but the texture, and she could have sworn she was actually eating a piece… that was pretty awesome. “Why do people want to be in those houses?”
In
Taco's Taco Truck! [High Casual-Advanced, Ignore Post Count]
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: 1x1 Interest Checks
Bump!
In
Taco's Taco Truck! [High Casual-Advanced, Ignore Post Count]
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: 1x1 Interest Checks
B-b-b-bump.
It was a little strange, to be chatting to someone whose family had gone to this mythical school. Logically, Sadie knew that she and Brennan were the strange ones, what with being muggleborn, but it was still impossible to imagine what magic was really like. She’d only ever seen the severe woman in green transform into a cat—and now some funny jelly beans. Her textbooks had moving pictures, but so did the internet, and that in itself didn’t seem particularly special. Growing up with magic had to be better than farm life in a tiny village. No wonder Brennan was so bitter coming back to Hankerton every summer. Surely it couldn’t even compare.
George went quiet for a moment. Sadie wasn’t the most aware of people, but even she could sense that something was off. He looked contemplative and Sadie, in a rare fit of good manners, elected not to comment on it. He dealt cards, and they felt curiously warm. They really could explode, and the thought made her grin widen. She accepted the sweetie, ignoring the thought of her mum’s chiding (”They’ll rot your teeth!”), nibbling as she considered his question. What was life like in Hankerton?
“Boring. The Ethans have been raising cows for the past hundred years, and will probably keep doing so until the eventual heat death of the universe.” She grimaced. She’d never liked farm life. School in Swindon had captured her imagination, and Swindon wasn’t even really a proper city. She’d been to London once to get her school supplies and it had been the best day she’d ever had. The city was glamorous and exciting and didn’t smell of cows. There were so many lights and people! It was a whole other world. “When I wasn’t in school, I was cleaning out the barn or tending chickens or doing any one of my ten billion chores. I mean,” she blushed as she realized how selfish she sounded, “It was just a lot of work. Things weren’t bad I just… don’t want to be a farmer when I grow up. I like cows, they’re funny creatures, and it’s important work and all, but I want to go explore. My brother’s the same way. Dad was right upset when he said he didn’t want the farm.”
She’d said too much, as she usually did. Sadie had never been good at knowing when to stop talking.
The cards were dealt and smoking slightly. Sadie flipped hers, a funny looking King of Hearts with a lion’s hat. The hat roared at her. Aww, how cute! She couldn’t help but giggle. Mr. Tufty shot her a foul look, which she ignored.
“So, you said something earlier about sorting,” she commented, feeling a bit apprehensive. “My brother’s gone on and on about how awful it is, but he’s a git and last time I trusted him I ended up stuck in a well, sooo… what’s the deal with that?”
George went quiet for a moment. Sadie wasn’t the most aware of people, but even she could sense that something was off. He looked contemplative and Sadie, in a rare fit of good manners, elected not to comment on it. He dealt cards, and they felt curiously warm. They really could explode, and the thought made her grin widen. She accepted the sweetie, ignoring the thought of her mum’s chiding (”They’ll rot your teeth!”), nibbling as she considered his question. What was life like in Hankerton?
“Boring. The Ethans have been raising cows for the past hundred years, and will probably keep doing so until the eventual heat death of the universe.” She grimaced. She’d never liked farm life. School in Swindon had captured her imagination, and Swindon wasn’t even really a proper city. She’d been to London once to get her school supplies and it had been the best day she’d ever had. The city was glamorous and exciting and didn’t smell of cows. There were so many lights and people! It was a whole other world. “When I wasn’t in school, I was cleaning out the barn or tending chickens or doing any one of my ten billion chores. I mean,” she blushed as she realized how selfish she sounded, “It was just a lot of work. Things weren’t bad I just… don’t want to be a farmer when I grow up. I like cows, they’re funny creatures, and it’s important work and all, but I want to go explore. My brother’s the same way. Dad was right upset when he said he didn’t want the farm.”
She’d said too much, as she usually did. Sadie had never been good at knowing when to stop talking.
The cards were dealt and smoking slightly. Sadie flipped hers, a funny looking King of Hearts with a lion’s hat. The hat roared at her. Aww, how cute! She couldn’t help but giggle. Mr. Tufty shot her a foul look, which she ignored.
“So, you said something earlier about sorting,” she commented, feeling a bit apprehensive. “My brother’s gone on and on about how awful it is, but he’s a git and last time I trusted him I ended up stuck in a well, sooo… what’s the deal with that?”
In
Taco's Taco Truck! [High Casual-Advanced, Ignore Post Count]
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: 1x1 Interest Checks
Bump!
In
[High-Casual/Advanced] The Brother Islands (SlummyChap & El Taco Taco)
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: 1x1 Roleplay
(I'll update this with Reece's bio and actually try to post in the coming week)
In
Taco's Taco Truck! [High Casual-Advanced, Ignore Post Count]
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: 1x1 Interest Checks
Sweeeet. Shoot me a PM, homeslice.
In
Taco's Taco Truck! [High Casual-Advanced, Ignore Post Count]
→
12 yrs ago
Forum: 1x1 Interest Checks
B-b-b-bump.
© 2007-2026