Test Drive Meme!

[paradisamods]

TEST DRIVE MEME Welcome to the Test Drive Meme! Whether you're considering joining paradisa for the first time or you just want to test out a new muse, this is the place to do it. Only character journals allowed, please! Feel free to have your character roam any of the castle's rooms, grounds locations, or City Royale. Thanks for your interest, and have fun! Premise: You wake up in a giant, magical castle. Everything is beautiful and the castle grants material wishes. It also provides a magic journal to every resident that allows everyone to communicate with each other like a two-way radio.

Comments

Chris D'Amico/The Motherfucker || Kick-Ass, movie-verse and cw; for language forever

[mistconduct]

[Chris - or the Motherfucker, as he's chosen to be called - is as blatantly out of place as is possible to be. As beautiful as the castle and its grounds can be with its light pastels and homey features, in storms a young man looking like he just blew through an 80s glam rock festival crossed with a fetishist convention. He stands dead in the center of the lobby, looking around in confusion, before reaching for his guns]

Who in the goddamn fuck kidnapped me?!

All right, shitheads, get your asses out here! This is the Motherfucker, you hear me?! I'm the one in charge of this dump now. Fucking come straight out here and pay homage to your liege lord, dicks!

[tartanisstylish]

[This.]

[Is not.]

[What Aziraphale signed up for ever in history. Why does everyone have guns? He's mentally wringing his hands, while the air turns blue.]

The what.

[mistconduct]

[Chris whirls around, guns out and aimed (wrongly and poorly) at Aziraphale's face. It'd be funny if it wasn't clear whether or not this bizarre leather-clad red and black spikeball pretending to be taken seriously as a human is actually mentally deranged]

The Motherfucker, shitstain. Who the fuck are you? You in charge? What the shit is going on?!

[tartanisstylish]

[Fortunately (unfortunately?) for Chris, Aziraphale doesn't have the first clue how to properly hold a gun, so he assumes he's about to be perforated with a thousand tiny, annoying holes. Unfortunately (fortunately?), this doesn't fill him with the kind of abject fear it would a human being. He just puts his hands on his hips.]

There's really no need for this.

[mistconduct]

No. Nuh uh. There is totally a need for this and I will tell you why:

One minute I'm standing around in fucking New York City, I blink, and I'm here. So what's the deal? You roofie me? Is this some kind of drug commune?

[He cocks both guns, continuing to keep Aziraphale at arm's length, walking around him]

Who the fuck are you, and are you on drugs?


...And if you are on drugs, can I have some?

[tartanisstylish]

I am not on drugs.

[He'd say this is the weirdest thing that's ever happened to him, but that's patently not true, so: weirdest thing that's happened to him today. He tries to keep his eye on Chris without turning his head 360 degrees, which proves impossible.]

And if I was, I wouldn't give you any, that's absurd.

Az-- ra. Fell.

[Such pseudonym. Much guilty look.]

[mistconduct]

You want to know what's absurd? Your fucking face, dude.

[He stops walking just behind Aziraphale, and takes the opportunity to gesture with his gun]

Okay, Azra-fucker. I'm a little freaked out right now, so I want you to get on the floor on your stomach and shut the hell up. Do it. I'm not playing.

[bigbadvigilante]

[Motherfucker, eh? Casey Jones doesn't take kindly to troublemakers on his turf. ...Not that this was his usual turf but seeing as he was stuck here anyways it might as well be.

Casey will try to keep just out of sight as he prepares to shoot a hockey puck right at the back of this chumps head.]

And he shoots-!

[mistconduct]

Son of a bitch-!

[At the call, Chris whirls towards the source of the noise, firing rapidly and in a blind panic. Within seconds his clip is spent.

The next twenty long, embarrassing seconds are filled with him standing in plain open view of a hockey puck as he attempts to change cartridges in his guns]

[bigbadvigilante]

-He scores! And the crowd goes wil-

[One of those rapid shots actually manages to hit one of the hockey sticks on his back. Casey's eyes go wide as he turns back to see one of his prized sticks in splinters.]

You leather-licker! Do you know how hard it is to get a good East-Man Stick like that!? You're gonna get the smack down of a life time for that!

[If Motherfucker looked like a 80's glam rock festival mixed with a fetishist convention, then Casey looked like someone who got in a fight with sports store and paint shop and lost as he roller-bladed out out into the open.]

[mistconduct]

[Chris is far too distracted trying to shove more bullets into his gun to pay much attention to the very real threat hanging out above him. He yells back as he arms himself]

Fuck off, creep! You don't know who the hell you're messing with! The Motherfucker's come to town and he's here to kick ass and take names!

[The rant is momentarily forgotten as he finally looks up and gets a good, long view of Casey skating into view]


...You've got to be shitting me.

[bigbadvigilante]

No, you don't know who you're messing with fetish face. But I'll tell you this; Casey Jones doesn't take kindly to people messing up his stuff or his swanky new hangout. You went and did both those things!

[Casey's just going to start skating circles around Chris for now, like a shark waiting for the best chance to strike.

[mistconduct]

[The skating thing is beginning to freak Chris out as much as it is bizarrely funny. He eyes Casey, before deciding to make his break for the door, running when he sees a gap. No way is he sticking around for this nonsense]

Fuck off back to the Olympics, Boitano!

[bigbadvigilante]

[Casey will dart after Chris as he makes a break for the door. He'll try to hook his stick around one of Chris' ankles to trip him up.]

Woah hey now! You can't go home just yet, the games are just about to start.

Besides, we haven't even got to the best part yet, Casey Jones versus his first super villain, this is going to be awesome!

[hellofist]

[There's just... there's just so much here, so much to take in and respond to and Cass just does not even know where to begin to start.

The outfit is obvious, and so is all that swearing. That name is a good one too, but she'll go with...]

Pretty sure you can't... take over a magic castle. Don't think that works. Like ever.

[mistconduct]

[Chris whirls around at the sound of the voice, aiming wildly]

Holy shit, is everyone here on drugs?!

[He emphasizes the next sentence with his guns, trying to make wild gestures while still maintaining aim. It doesn't go so well.]

Magic. Doesn't. Exist!

[hellofist]

Are you on drugs?

[Cause it would make sense, considering all your... YOUness, Chris.]

Don't believe me? What's something you want? Can be food, clothes, toys, whatever. Pick something.

[mistconduct]

What? No. No, asshole, I'm not on drugs. I fucking wish I was, at least then shit would make a whole lot more sense.

[He pauses, suspiciously eyeing the young girl]

What, you're serious?

Okay. Okay, I want a naked Emma Watson holding a cheeseburger and milkshake.

[hellofist]

[Young girl, she's nineteen Chris you shut up. And she has no idea who Emma Watson is, so she just holds her hands out and wishes for the cheeseburger and milkshake. A tray drops into her hands then, his meal balanced neatly on it.]

Can't wish for people. Good choice, though.

[She means the burger, obviously. Not the naked lady part.]

[mistconduct]

[At the appearance of the food, Chris' eyes nearly pop out of his skull in shock. He stares at the food, then stares at Cass, then switches back]


Holy shit you're a witch.

[hellofist]

[What no Chris.]

I told you, it's the castle. Magic castle.

And now for a castle resident who lacks Cass's diplomacy

[molotov]

[Oh my god, kid, do you even go here? Some of us are trying to kick back quietly on the couch and read in front of the fire.

And that is why a smoking hot Russian mercenary is glaring over the back of the sofa with her one eye, cigarette held up in one hand as she contemplates giving up on the fucking lobby altogether.]

Really? We go through this once a month around here. You are not kidnapped, you are not taking over, sit the hell down and shut up. Liege lord, christ in hell.

Oh, and bad naming scheme. Really.

Whoo!

[mistconduct]

[He doesn't even go here! He'd apologize for the disturbance except disturbance is pretty much the definition of him.

At seeing Molotov in the flesh, Chris immediately and comically falters. Supervillain or not, he's still intimidated by beautiful women]

Hey, hey whoa. Back the fuck up. First, do not fucking tell me to shut up. I tell other people to shut up. No one tells me.

Second, what do you fucking mean not kidnapped? I'm clearly on some kind of roofies. No way did I just randomly wake up in what looks like goddamn Medieval Times Ren' Fest without drugs.

Third, who the fuck are you?

[molotov]

[Molotov sighs, like this is maybe some kind of huge burden, then stands up in her all her six-feet-in-heels glory and rounds the sofa to glower properly.

She's like a model, maybe, if models had eyepatches and perma-bitchfaces and kept their own bodies loaded up with weapons while reading old novels.]

First and third, I tell you to shut up, because I am Molotov fucking Cocktease, best mercenary in the western hemisphere and I have lived in this stupid castle for three years. So I am really not someone you want to fuck with.

Second, no one drugged you. If they had, they probably would have changed your clothes, because you look more stupid than most of the "villains" in my world, and that is saying something. This is Paradisa, and if you want to stop acting like a moron, I will tell you about it.

Or you can keep screaming and a bunch of bleeding heart, do-gooders will eventually come running down those stairs to knock you into next week. And none of them will have my patience, so.

lmao chrisssss :')

[dog_eat_dog]

[It's been a while since Tess has dealt with someone so... direct.

She's coming down the stairs when she sees him; she's almost glad she heard him shouting his head off before he came into view, because at least she has a second to prepare herself. What to make of what she sees is an entirely different matter –– on one hand, he's dressed like a lunatic, and on the other hand, he's armed.

Tess doesn't hesitate to reach for her own gun before raising her voice. She lifts her chin almost indignantly –– despite being a somewhat scrappy-looking middle-aged woman, she's used to her fair share of fights.]

Nobody's paying homage to newbies around here, kid.