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graveyardsmash2017-03-10 10:55 am
ryslighelpers) wrote in graveyardsmash2017-03-10 10:55 am
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE MEME
Welcome to the Ryslig Test Drive Meme! Below are a few prompts to get you started, but you may make up any prompt you desire! Please take a look at the navigation page for rules, setting information, and links to reserves and apps. Have fun!
SCENARIO ONE
You wake up on the beach thoroughly drenched with your mouth full of sand. The salt water causes various cuts and scrapes on your skin to sting and the sand isn't helping. The air is slightly humid, ruining any feeling of refreshment you might have gotten from your dip in the ocean. There are lights in the distance but the unfriendly scent of gunpowder fills the air. If you're lucky, you're alone. If not, you might find yourself staring up into a pair of monstrous eyes or down the barrel of a local's shotgun.SCENARIO TWO
So you've just arrived, and already SOME the natives are trying to get on your good side. Offers of food, shelter and other luxuries in return for hoping you don't eat them. They even have some helpful pamphlets to share with you. "How To Deal With Changes", "Alternatives to Human Flesh", "What to Expect When You're Expecting (to turn into a monster)" are all great pamphlets. There's even some detailing certain monsters, and the changes they go through. Some of these seem to have been passed down from one monster to the next.Among these however, are some... not so helpful ones. "Bunnyipyips And You", "Axe Thief Axehounds," and "So you're becoming a Fur Bearing Trout" among others. Sometimes they have marks on them from previous people who had them saying they are lies, or pointing out good "jokes." Then there's the people who aren't happy to see you at all. Glares and silent, judging stares if you're lucky. Torches and pitchforks attempting to drive you out of the town if you're not. You may need a friend to help you.
SCENARIO THREE
"Seek us out," the voice whispers in your head, and before you have time to question it you've found yourself in someplace entirely alien. Maybe it's the Fog God's ghostly town of Dyster, where exultant followers dance around bonfires and sing their praises to the skies above. Maybe it's the Fourth God's arcade, with small robots wheeling about amidst the lights and colors of old pinball machines. Only one thing is certain: you are not alone, in this sacred place.SCENARIO FOUR
The time has come and you've found yourself becoming a monster. Is the change instant, or gradual? Are you familiar enough with monsters to know what's happening, or is it a complete shock? NOTE: Feel free to pick any monster type for this prompt, but note that you may not get the same one in game.
no subject
'We really get around'? That's really all you have to say? Jesus, y'know, this is why you're such a piece of work: you don't care. You aren't even going to ask why I'm angry. I could tell you the last version of you I met stabbed me in the eye and killed my dog and you'd just laugh and say 'we really get around'.
no subject
[THIS SURE TOOK A TURN.]
[Ford blinks, his head pulling back as Fiddleford raises his voice. Instinctively he holds up his hands, because that's just what you do when trying to placate someone, but he's quick to put them back down once he reminds himself this is Fiddleford he's dealing with. No matter how angry the man is, no matter how deadly those claws might be, Ford knows he's not in any danger. Fiddleford would never hurt him, not ever.]
...Did he kill your dog?
[The moment he says it, Ford cringes. Scratch that, he wants a do-over.]
no subject
... No, he didn't. It's just givin' you the whole list of what he did do would've taken too long. You know some of it already anyway. Can't imagine there's a universe out there where what happened in Gravity Falls went different, not if I know you.
[Little does he know there absolutely is. Ford probably shouldn't tell him. It won't help his case much to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could have been a good friend and chose not to.]
no subject
[Or maybe it just hurts a little to think about the world where everything didn't go so horribly wrong.]
[Whatever the reason, Ford closes his bid dumb mouth before he can make things worse for them both, and gives himself a moment to think of something better to say.]
...You'd be surprised. [It's not...better, necessarily, but it's something. It's a start.]
The multiverse is a big place. There's bound to be at least one reality where I wasn't such a blind, stubborn fool.
no subject
[There's a long, awkward moment. God, he already feels exhausted. Why is being around Ford Pines always such a trying experience?]
Sorry I yelled. The last Stanford who was here disappeared before I got a chance to... to say a lot of things. It's all just been waitin' to come out I suppose.
[A selfish part of him kind of wishes Ford would have just stayed disappeared. Now he has to deal with all of this all over again. He has to go through fighting with himself over whether forgiveness is worth it, has to deal with Ford treating him more like a science project than a person. He has to manage Ford's presence in his life.]
no subject
[Cracking a small, uneven smile, Ford shrugs his shoulders in a way that seems just a little too casual before his hands move to bury themselves in the front pocket of his hoodie.]
Looks like I drew the short straw, huh?
[He wishes he had something funnier to say than that, something that would inject some levity into this decidedly not-happy reunion, but he's drawing a blank. He's never been good with words, particularly in saying the right ones at the right time. He doesn't know why he thought now might be any different.]
Well, seeing how I'm already here...
[He pauses, unsure how to word his proposal.]
You can always give your Ford a piece of your mind he ever shows up here, but until then.
[He spreads his arms a bit, then gestures towards himself with an awkward, lopsided smile.]
Why put off for tomorrow what you can do today?
no subject
[Not that the idea isn't massively tempting. There's so much he's wanted to say, so many times he's played out hypothetical arguments in his mind just to get the words out somehow. To really just let loose at Ford would be a massive relief.
It's just... he's still Fiddleford McGucket and at his core he's a kind man. It doesn't feel right to lay into someone who already looks so cowed. Who's planning to just roll over and take it. He'd almost prefer a real argument.]
no subject
[Really, only Fiddleford would make it so clear that he wants something only to say 'no thank you' on principle when it's being handed to him on a silver platter.]
I wouldn't have offered if I thought I couldn't handle it. [That's not exactly true, but details, details.]
Besides, Stan's always telling me how I need to be knocked down a few pegs. I could probably stand a good dressing-down.
[Nevermind the fact Stanley usually says that in jest. Again, details.]
1/???
Well, fine. If he's asking for it then he can damn well deal with the consequences of giving Fiddleford McGucket full permission to speak his mind.]
Alright. Fine. But don't you go cryin' to me after about how I'm not bein' fair. Probably best to have this all out now anyway. If you're goin' to keep hangin' around me then we're goin' to have to establish how things are goin' to be.
2/???
[That's probably the most important thing. Ford absolutely cannot go into this thinking their relationship is going to be the same as it was before. Fiddleford is far, far past the point where that's a possibility.]
I put my entire life on hold for you, y'know, because you were my best friend and I figured you'd do the same for me. I know better now.
3/???
[His lights are flickering far more noticeably than usual, a sure sign of his agitation. His tail is shifting uneasily. Without really realizing he's lifted himself up a couple of feet, looming over Ford in a way that he never could when he had legs and they were more or less the same height. He doesn't feel like looking Ford square in the eyes right now. He feels like looking down at him. It feels better.]
You were -- you were an awful friend. All I ever did was give and give and give. I did things for you that went against all my logical and moral beliefs, I willingly put myself in situations where I could have died, and all you cared about was that you had someone else to do your dirty work! Y'know what I found out, just recently? If I hadn't left California, if you hadn't ruined my life and left me senile in a goddamn junkyard, I'd have invented a computer that would've changed the world. I could've made something of my life. I could've been happy.
4/???
But he doesn't want to hurt Ford. He doesn't. So he swallows some of his anger back and makes sure his fangs are safely tucked up against the roof of his mouth before he continues.]
And I gave you a second chance here, even against my better judgement, because I honestly thought our friendship might have meant more to you than you acted like it did. And y'know what you said, when I asked you where you thought I was in your time? You said you thought I was probably dead. You hadn't even bothered to check. You had somethin' 'more important' to care about, you said. Like findin' out whether your best friend survived what you did to him wasn't on your list of priorities. Like maybe gettin' him through the apocalypse you caused wasn't the least you could do.
wreckt
Understand?
the Wreckoning
[But that's the thing about the passage of time. It has a way of putting things into perspective, of putting distance between old hurts and the forefront of the mind. Ford has had thirty years to come to terms with all of this, to sort out all the anger and frustration and stubborn insistence that his good intentions excused all the horrible things they wrought. Now all he has left is remorse, a guilt that sits so heavy in his heart that even Fiddleford's forgiveness couldn't lift it.]
[So, no. Ford doesn't defend himself. He doesn't interrupt, or correct, or ask Fiddleford to stop. He just stands there and lets the vitriol wash over him like acid rain, lets the man have his much-needed catharsis even if it makes him feel more than a little heart-raw.]
[By the end of it, Ford finds himself wondering if he looks as subdued and defeated as he feels. A small, prideful part of him hopes not - after all that talk of being able to handle anything Fiddleford dished out, the last thing he wants is to look like a kicked dog. But then again, maybe he deserves that too. Maybe it would help Fiddleford feel a little better to see him brought low.]
[Clearing his throat, Ford reaches up to rub absently at the back of his neck. He's not sure what to say to all that. He's not sure there is anything to say, at least nothing that will make any of this better, so instead of opening with words he settles for a long, low whistle.]
...Well. That sure was brewing for a while.
[To put things mildly.]
[Clearing his throat again -why it feels so tight all of the sudden he has no idea- Ford continues, his words slow and halting as he tries to piece his thoughts together.]
I know it doesn't make a difference, I know it won't fix anything, but - [Goddamn it, why is this so hard to articulate.]
There's no making up for it, for what happened. For all the things I did, for all the things I didn't do. But still, you deserve an apology. Maybe I'm not the person who should be giving it to you, but I think it's time one of us finally did.
[He stands a little straighter, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. Unable to stay still, his thumb rubs anxiously against the side of his forefinger.]
I'm sorry, Fiddleford. For everything. I really am.
[He waits a moment, letting his words hang heavy in the air, before cracking a small, uncertain smile.]
...You know, that's been playing in the back of my mind for the last thirty years. Feels good to finally say it out loud.