Test Drive 18

[sixthiteration]

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Test Drive

→ Holds and applications are always open. Holds are required for all applications.

→ Choose one of the scenarios below or make up your own. Feel free to try multiple scenarios.

→ Write LOGS or TEXT prompts, or both.

→ THERE ARE ONLY THREE RULES FOR THE TDM:

1. It has to take place in the 6I universe.
2. It cannot be the character's arrival into the game.
3. Please only test new characters who do not have a version in the game. Our cast list is here.

→ TDM threads cannot be used to meet AC, but if the character is accepted into the game and both players agree, you may keep the CR.

→ Character want ads are here.

Prompts

Summer is here, villagers! Sunny skies, warm weather and plenty of weirdness are on the horizon. Don't forget your sunscreen!

1. THE MILK FOR FREE - Somehow, someway, you have been wrangled into milking one of the GROFFLES recently rounded up by your fellow villagers. Maybe you felt guilty for not helping, or maybe you owe someone scary money. Point is, it's just you, a bucket, and your green milk-giving friend. Just a tip: Groffles are good-natured, but you probably shouldn't squeeze too hard.


2. LIGHTNING ROD - Earlier today, you made your way into the upper foothills — Were you hunting? Maybe just roaming? — and you came into contact with a BLUE LILY. Maybe you thought it was so pretty you've carried it back to the village with you. If your house didn't have electricity before, it definitely does now!


3. MEET CUTE - It's a classic: You've gone down into the 6I INN'S dirt-walled root cellar off the kitchen. Maybe you needed supplies or were dropping off some fresh produce. Whatever the case, someone's followed you down for a similar reason... and the door has jammed shut behind them. Seriously, it's not budging. Enjoy getting to know your new best friend in the cozy light of the furnace!


4. WILDCARD - Choose your own adventure. Maybe play powers roulette.

Texts

All characters are fitted with a smart watch-like device on their left wrist, which they can use to send text messages to other villagers.

- Texts may only be 140 characters long
- No video or voice, text only
- No usernames, everyone is listed by their name

Please list your CHARACTER NAME, CANON & PROMPT in your SUBJECT LINE.

Comments

Domino | Deadpool | 1

[improbables]

We all have those moments in life where we wonder to ourselves, how in the hell did we get here? Lately, Domino's had a lot of them — Way more than normal, even, which is saying something for someone who's traditionally been prone to throw caution out the window and into a hurricane-force wind that blows it across the country. This, though... This might really take the cake. Like, the whole fucking thing, frosting roses and all.

In this particular WTF moment, she is sitting on a wobbly three-legged stool next to an animal only slightly smaller and less stinky than the Juggernaut, staring at its bloated pink udder. Seriously, how did she get talked into this? She's never milked anything, much less a big, shaggy house that gives Star Wars milk, and... Well, let's just say that things have not been going her way lately. As in, since she dog-paddled into this place.

The good news is the animal seems chill. And how hard can this be, right? Thousands of people milk cows and goats and whateverthefuckelse everyday. This is just a bigger version.

"OK," she tells it, absently waving away a fly, "I'm going in. I apologize in advance for touching your tits. Just do me a favor and please don't kick me in the head."

She wraps tentative hands over the two closest teats, sucks in a slow breath, pulls, and... pale green milk dribbles into the bucket below. "Well, that's progress," she allows, as the groffle huffs out a patient sigh. She tries again, a bit more firmly, and grins as the dribble becomes a stream. "Hell yeah," Domino says, sputters out some groffle fur, then gets enthusiastically to filling the bucket.

Too enthusiastically, as it turns out. The only warning she gets is an irritated lowing from the groffle before it jerks away. It doesn't kick her in the head, but it does kick the bucket, and a jumble of pointless directives fly through Domino's mind — NO! THAT WAY! STOP! — before the milk slops all over her and the bucket clatters back to the ground.

Sitting, dripping green milk from her chin, Domino cuts the now-calmed groffle a sharp look. "Maybe I should have been more specific when we had that little chat."

[freightcars]

It's not that he's eavesdropping, or... spying, whatever the term is for accidentally catching someone doing something really weird. Rubbernecking? He vaguely thinks he's heard that somewhere, but it's from somewhere in that gray area of time where his brains were scrambled eggs. Anyway, he's not trying to be... rude, or anything, but- I mean, it's kind of hard not to notice what's going down.

He's not laughing, per say, when she gets covered in pale green beast milk, but there is a discernible amusement in his eyes if one cares enough to look closely enough. It's mixed in with a bit of distaste, and it's not her but rather the whole spectacle. The giant utter, the dribbling tits filled with green milk, really the entire situation.

"That..." He starts, stops, shakes his head, then starts again. "Is the most disgusting thing I've ever seen."

It's a perhaps unwanted, unexpected voice from somewhere off to her left. He stands a few feet off, arms crossed, being probably the least helpful human on the island.

[improbables]

Domino can hear the mirth in his voice even if he's not precisely laughing, and after the initial white-hot second of annoyance, she drops her chin, lips pressing together against a smile as she huffs out a breath through her nose.

"You know," she says, sliding a gaze over to the owner of the voice, lifting a hand to sluice some of the milk from her face, "I wish I could say this is the most disgusting thing I've ever seen... or done."


[Pls forgive my lack of icons!]

[freightcars]

He's not so good with people, so it's a definite relief to hear something other than aggression coming back his way. His time in Wakanda has done him a little good, though, thankfully he's not as bad as he used to be or he might've ended the conversation there and slipped off. Instead he shifts forward, dropping a shoulder strap off of his bad arm in order to pull his back forward. He rifles through it until he finds the tanktop within, then tosses it gently at her.

"Don't exactly have a towel, but..." He shrugs a shoulder. It'll do. Hopefully green milk doesn't stain, but he's not exactly attached to the thing so it's no big loss.

[improbables]

"Thanks," Domino replies as her hand pops up to catch the shirt. "I should have brought a towel," she allows as she swipes the fabric across her face. "Somehow this result never occurred to me."

The milk is not just green, but straight out of the groffle — Sweet when she licks her lips but warm and frothy in a way she really is not going to let herself think about. That way lies madness.

"You might not believe it, but this is my very first time milking one of these," she adds, quirking a smile to the guy as she wipes down her arms.

[freightcars]

"You seemed like such a pro," He comments wryly in mock protest, dry and completely unconvincing. Not exactly antagonistic, though, just a gentle gib from a stranger. He ambles forward a bit more, drops down to pick up her bucket with a metal arm. It freezes, stiffens, tenses, and his fingers don't curl quite the way they're supposed to. The tech's been acting up ever since he got here, and there isn't exactly a local soviet-era advanced technologies prosthetic arm workshop around here. Consternated, he switches, plucking it up with his good arm and holding it out to her.

"If you don't mind my asking- why, exactly, are you milking a-..." What the hell is that thing, anyway? "...House?"

[improbables]

Her gaze dips to the arm, more for the malfunction than the fact of it, then shifts blithely back to the guy's face. It's not like this is the first person she's met with a mechanical arm this month.

Another soft laugh pushes from her throat, and she shakes her head as she gets to her feet. "I volunteered," she says. "I'd like to give you some bullshit story that's actually interesting and maybe makes up for having to witness this," she sweeps a hand toward herself, "but mostly I just felt guilty for not doing more. And also, I'm kind of used to being good at most things I do back home, so... Apparently this is a teachable moment."

The groffle has settled down onto the grass, unperturbed now that nobody's yanking on its boobs. "That," Domino says, pointing a finger gun its way, "is a groffle. And no, I did not just make that up."

[freightcars]

He gets that, he thinks, the guilty thing. Turns out he doesn't have a plethora of special skills that don't involve punching things or hiding from things, so he hasn't exactly been much use here either. He tried to fix something once, but with a malfunctioning arm and no technical training in anything non combat related he'd done more harm than good. Maybe he should milk one of these-

"Groffle?" He repeats incredulously, and it almost sounds like onomatopoeia for vomit when it leaves his mouth. A name as gross as the action, he has to admit. With a little shrug, he dubs it fitting.

His good hand comes out again, though whether it's to shake or to accept his tank top back, it's hard to say. "Anyway, I'm sure you'll get the hang of it. Seemed like you kinda had it going for a minute there, until the..."

Milksplosion.

[tosavecocoon]

Vanille has always had a fondness for animals. Gran Pulse was teeming with wild ones and even the most dangerous ones could be sweet when they wanted to. Sometimes she would walk through the woods or the village and half expect to see a sheep or the shell of a giant adamantoise off in the distance. Then she would blink and the illusion or memory was gone. She would remember where she was and that, while she might see a sheep someday, she wouldn't likely find an adamantoise.

The lack of oretoises is probably a good thing; Vanille doubts the villagers here would be able to deal with one, especially since most seem to have gone without human contact for a very long time. They're completely wild and very dangerous.

Still, creatures like the groffles catch her attention very easily and she's wandered over in time to get wrangled into milking one herself. She hasn't started yet, which is likely just as well, given that she's arrived in time to see someone's bucket get completely overturned. Vanille stifles a laugh, looking properly guilty at laughing at all, before stepping a little closer.

"You were probably doing it a little too hard," she explains, her head tilted a little as she examines the scene before her. At least the groffle looks peaceful enough, like it just got pinched and isn't about to go off on a rampage. "Do you want some help?"