#like its insane the lengths they went to just to ride its coat tails

[the-clock-of-the-time-dragon]

It will forever be hilarious to me that Disney wanted so fucking bad to make a Wicked movie — but couldn't get the rights from Universal — that they literally spent billions upon billions of dollars making SEVEN different films (and a whole season of television; not even including their sequels and spinoffs) more than one of which they even got Idina and Kristen to be in based on the stripped-down premise of "what if the Stock Female Antagonist™ was secretly the Misunderstood Angsty Girlboss Heroine™ all along?" (because Disney execs don't actually care about Wicked, they just saw Green, said "hey! if we can't get the real thing, why not use Our Own (and/or Public Domain) characters?" and simply followed the Marketing Department Road all the way to the bank).

Less funny is the fact they were so successful at it — regardless of the merits (or lack thereof) of any of those projects — that it ended up getting the production of the actual Wicked movie delayed by more than a decade (because it would ironically have looked like a copycat and probably faded into the background if it had come out back when Disney was pumping out knockoffs every fucking year).

[radioactivedelorean]

Forduary Week 2: Science

The smaller bundle of logs and flame looked up at Ford curiously, decided the man was a threat and ran off into the woods. The larger one sat down in the grass and curled up slightly. The flames burning on its legs gently blackened the blades of grass it was sat upon. Ford sat cross-legged three feet away, eagerly drawing in his journal with a quill and ink. He’d been wondering why the flowers in his front garden had been on fire recently, and why the wood around his porch was charred. He’d found these little creatures in the woods not far away this morning. He had tried to touch one, but had instantly regretted the idea as the flames burned his skin. His left hand bandaged up, Ford instead decided to keep his distance as he studied them.

These little creatures, which he had heard the locals call “scampfires” (Ford had thought that was a rather appropriate name), seemed to be comprised of six or seven logs, varying in size for each creature, which constantly burned. The first time he’d seen one, he had thought it was a normal campfire, left by some careless hikers. He’d taken a bucket of water to put the fire out, only to find the fire missing and nothing but burned grass and soot-coated dirt in the clearing where he’d last seen it. Barely an hour later, he’d found a family of them in the dirt outside his house. Leaving the water behind, Ford had rushed inside to get his journal and a pen. By the time he’d returned, however, they had moved on.

This time, he’d brought out a load of scrap paper and twigs and left them in a pile at the edge of the woods to the west. He’d waited on his front porch, journal and quill in hand, until the little scampfires had emerged. Ford had learned quickly enough that they fed off paper, wood and anything else that was particularly flammable. Carefully, he had risen from his seat on the porch steps and had sat gently beside them. This is where he was sitting now, eagerly sketching the creature in front of him and writing down any information he could about them in the pages of the journal.

He’d already filled two whole journals with drawings and notes on the mysterious creatures in Gravity Falls and was well on his way to completing his third. The golden six-fingered hand on the front reflected the scampfire’s light and sparkled gently. Ford had spent many rainy afternoons in New Jersey sat in his bedroom, drawing and designing all sorts of creatures, from dragons to unicorns to pixies. Since arriving in Gravity Falls, Ford had been utterly surprised by the sheer variety of creatures he had encountered. He’d also realised that only a small handful of his childhood creations were accurate. He’d been elated at first to find out that unicorns were real, until he’d encountered one. It had been arrogant, egotistical and rather rude, something which had taken Ford by surprise. All the myths he had read in books as a kid had been wrong. They couldn’t see into the future - they could barely tell the time!

Ford snapped out of the memory to find something hot burning his shin. He yelped and jumped to his feet, having found that the younger scampfire from earlier had settled at his feet and its flames had been gently burning the ankle of Ford’s trousers. Ford patted the flame out and gave the little scampfire a sharp glare. “That hurt, you know,”

The little creature crouched away from Ford, resembling a kicked puppy, before retreating to its parent. The man had no idea how to determine the sex of these creatures and wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know. He would likely get some nasty burns in the process of finding out. He had no idea whether they reproduced sexually or asexually either - something else he wasn’t particularly comfortable with trying to find out. They were rather fascinating little things, though. He didn’t know how they responded to rain, snow or wind, common things which usually put fires out. Curious, Ford got up and picked up the bottle of water off the porch step and brought it over to the larger scampfire. Unscrewing the cap, he turned the bottle upside down and poured some of the water on the creature. The larger scampfire awoke with a start, hissing violently at Ford before taking its offspring and retreating into the forest.

“Remarkable,” Ford muttered. Their flames weren’t put out by water! The way it had hissed reminded the man of the way a cat hissed, perhaps while being threatened or after having its tail stepped on. Quickly grabbing his journal and pen, he scrawled down some more notes before closing the book and going inside.

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“Urgh, what the hell is that noise?” Ford groaned. It sounded like some sort of music coming from the woods by his bedroom window. He’d been having a rather pleasant dream - involving running his own academic research centre and earning more than enough to support his whole family. What was even better was that, in this dream, Stan had never ruined his project and the twins were living happily in a large house by the sea in California. Hauling himself out of his warm cocoon of blankets, Ford scrambled for his glasses in the dark while simultaneously trying to get his slippers onto his feet. Once he could see properly, he turned the lamp on his nightstand on and got up, wrapping his coat around him and grabbing his journal and a pen.

Walking out into the cool night air, Ford immediately started to shiver. It was late autumn and the nights in Oregon were cold at the best of the times. He really hoped that whatever was making that noise was worth him leaving his nice warm bed for. Using a flashlight to see through the darkness, he headed towards the source of the noise. As he drew nearer, the music became clearer - it seemed to be an endless loop of that horrible “Danny Boy” song. No doubt it was going to be stuck in his head for a considerable length of time after tonight.

Climbing over some tree roots, Ford found the source of the noise. At first, it appeared to be a tiny centaur. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that it seemed to be some horrific hybrid of a leprechaun and a unicorn sitting down on the earth in front of him. Sitting cross-legged in the damp grass, Ford took out his journal and began sketching the creature. It had a sickly sweet smile on its face and its eyes looked like something out of one of those Japanese animated television shows - unnaturally large and sparkling far too much. Its horn seemed to be the main source of the irritating music.

As he drew, Ford noticed the creature getting up. It walked over to him and started chewing on his jacket sleeve. He yanked his arm away quickly and the creature padded off to sit down again, still playing that horrific music. It was beginning to drive Ford insane, so he quickly finished his drawings and notes and got up, heading back to his house. That thing really wasn't worth leaving his bed for. Sure, he'd found something new to document in his journal, but it had been utterly disappointing.

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Ford continued to fidget uncomfortably, swiftly trying to get home. “Note to self,” he muttered under his breath. “Go before I leave the house.”

Why did he have to drink all that water? That, on top of the cup of coffee he'd had before he left, meant that his bladder was pretty damn full. Sure, he could just stand behind a tree, unzip his pants and relieve himself like that, but Ford figured he was more civilised than that. That was the sort of thing he and Stanley used to do as kids, if they were down by the beach and either couldn’t wait or couldn’t be bothered to go home. He was an adult now. He could hold it. His house wasn't that far away, anyway.

At least he thought it was. Had he taken a wrong turn back at that clearing? He'd wandered much further into the woods today than he ever had before and now he was regretting it. Not only was he most likely lost, he needed the bathroom. Badly.

Stepping over a set of large tree roots, Ford came across a clearing. In the middle of the clearing was a small wooden structure. An outhouse. He’d been through this clearing multiple times before and that had never been there before. It looked oddly out of place there, but right now it was a blessing. Almost running over to it, Ford yanked the door open and went in, closing the door and locking it behind him.

Once he had relieved himself, Ford opened the door again, expecting to be greeted by the forest again. What he didn't expect was the hot, dry blast of air he was met with when he stepped outside. Looking around, Ford came to the conclusion that he was certainly not in Gravity Falls any more. As he turned back to where the outhouse had been, he was shocked to find that it had disappeared.

He was now stranded in the middle of who-knows-where.

The first thing Ford thought he should do, instead of wander around aimlessly, was to try and find a road. Over to his left, he could see something move towards him, kicking up dirt as it went. A car. Instantly, Ford was running towards it, his arm out to try and flag it down. “HEY! HEY! STOP, PLEASE!”

By the time Ford had reached the road, the car had passed him and was long out of sight. He sighed in frustration and looked in the direction the car was traveling. At least he'd found a road. Sticking his hands in his pockets, Ford followed the car. It must have been going in the direction of civilisation. His best option was to follow it. Maybe he could reach a town and hitch a ride back to Gravity Falls.

After nearly three hours of walking, his shoes were full of sand and dust and he was very thirsty. He'd drunk all the water he'd had before, while he was still in the woods. He regretted that decision greatly, as now he was parched. There was sand in his hair and down the back of his shirt. His feet ached tremendously.

Ford perked up at the sound of a car behind him. Turning round, he stuck his arm out into the road. “Hey! Stop, please!”

He must have been spotted as the car came to a halt just beside Ford and the six-fingered man sighed in relief. It was an old pickup truck, rusted with age. The driver, a man around Ford's age with dark hair, leant over. “What the heck are you doing all the way out here on your own?”

Ford ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “It's a long story… I'd seem crazy if I told you.”

“Hey, mate, I live in Gravity Falls. I'm used to crazy.”

“You live in Gravity Falls?!” Ford exclaimed. “I live there too, in a house in the woods.”

“Well hop in, I'll give you a ride back.”

“Thanks,” Ford grinned, opening the door and climbing into the passenger seat. “Sorry about all the sand and dust.”

The driver waved him off. “Don't worry about it, the car's ancient anyway.”

Ford sighed in relief as the driver started heading up the road in the direction of Gravity Falls. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror on the back of the sun visor. His skin was dusted with sand, most of which was stuck in his hair. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair. The sand down the back of his neck was immensely irritating to lie against.

000000

After that ordeal, Ford had decided to stay well away from those mysterious outhouses. He'd found that the one he'd used, in the clearing, had disappeared. They seemed to move location daily and were never in the same place twice. He had no idea how they were doing that and quite frankly he didn't really care all that much.

Ford was walking through the woods two days after that incident, still on the hunt for any more clues as to the answers behind the Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness. His journal was clutched in his left hand. He stopped suddenly, hearing strange growling and muttering sounds coming from behind a tree. Tucking his journal into the inside pocket of his jacket, Ford carefully walked around the tree.

The creature responsible for the noise seemed almost human. It was crouched over something, muttering and sniffing at it. As Ford stepped closer, he stood on a stray twig. It snapped beneath his foot and the creature turned around. Its eyes were a shocking white against the dark shadows obscuring its face. It seemed to almost smile at Ford as it quickly dashed forward, sharp teeth and claws bared. Ford barely had time to react as it sunk its teeth into his right shoulder, its claws shredding his skin and clothes. The man cried out in pain and staggered backwards, punching at the creature as hard as he could. He managed to dislodge it from his shoulder and took off running in the direction of the town centre. His hair whipped him in the eyes and his shoulder throbbed agonizingly. Blood started soaking through his jacket, staining the fabric red. He could hear the creature’s grunts and hollers as it followed him.

Almost slipping over as he sprinted towards the road, Ford instantly headed for the nearest building he could see - the recently-built Dusk 2 Dawn convenience store. He knew that the creature would most likely follow him inside, but it was the best chance he had at escaping. A car was within a hair’s breadth of hitting him as he ran across the road, the horn blaring in his ears. The creature jumped clean over the car, still clawing at Ford’s heels.

Ford rushed through the doors of the convenience store and slammed them shut behind him, pulling on the handles to prevent the creature pulling them open from the other side. Ford was desperately out of breath and considerably pale, blood still dripping off his shoulder and clothes and hitting the floor. The creature scratched and snarled at the glass doors furiously, but eventually gave up on chasing its prey and retreated into the woods.

“Are you alright, hon?”

“Huh?” Ford looked over to the cashier’s desk to see an older lady giving him a worried expression. The lady had silver hair and wore a nametag simply reading ‘Ma’.

“Are you alright honey? You’re bleeding an awful lot there,”

Ford looked at his shoulder, the burning pain suddenly becoming much more prominent. “Oh! Yeah, y-yeah I’m fine. I’ve had worse.”

“Are you sure? I can take you out the back and get you fixed up, if you want. You’re bleeding all over the floor there.” ‘Ma’ walked over to him.

Ford staggered away from the doors, his mind whirling and spinning in a nauseating fashion. “I’ll be alright. I’m awfully sorry about the mess.”

“Now, now, don’t mind that.” A new voice said. An elderly man came out from behind a row of shelves. The man was around the same age as Ma and wore a nametag that read ‘Pa’. Ford mentally concluded that the couple were married. “Go on, go with Ma now and get yourself patched up. I can clean up the mess.”

“I-If you insist,” Ford followed the woman to a door at the back of the shop marked ‘Staff Only’. Ma led him down a hallway and into a room on the left, where there was a box of medical supplies on the countertop.

“Take a seat, sweetie, and take off your jacket and shirt. I’ll need to get a good look at that injury.”

Ford did as instructed, slipping the jacket off his shoulders and unbuttoning his shirt. The injury seemed much worse now that it was properly exposed, but it wasn’t as deep as Ford had first thought. There were two round lines of small puncture wounds, forming the shape of a jaw, surrounded by about an inch-wide margin of torn and shredded flesh. It was still bleeding slightly. A third, smaller circle of puncture wounds was just above his elbow, where the creature’s claws had dug into him.

“What was that thing, anyway?”

“That? The locals here call them ‘killbillies’, which is a rather amusing name if you ask me. They don’t like coming anywhere near town for some reason. The modern technology scares them away.” Ma pulled over another chair and sat at Ford’s right side, holding some disinfectant wipes in her hand. “Now, this is going to sting, so just brace yourself.”

The chemicals burned Ford’s skin, eliciting a hiss of pain from him. He dug his fingernails into his palms, biting down on his tongue. It felt like a dozen tiny white-hot knives pricking his flesh. He knew the burning sensation meant that it was working, but it was still very uncomfortable. He looked up to see Ma studying him curiously. Specifically, his hands.

“Have I seen you somewhere before?”

“I think so, I’ve come in here several times before for supplies.” Ford replied. “I’ve lived here for about six years now.”

“Whereabouts do you live, then, hon?” Ma asked.

“618 Gopher Road,” Ford replied. “It’s in the woods on the outskirts of town.”

“Oh, you’re that elusive scientist the townsfolk keep talking about. You know, you’ve got quite a reputation around these parts.” Ma started sterilizing a small sewing needle and a length of fine thread. “A lot of folk have been wondering what you’ve been up to.”

“I’m studying the weirdness of Gravity Falls.” Ford said simply. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with explaining everything to this lady, as nice as she seemed. He wasn’t even going to mention his Muse, just in case. He hadn’t told a single living soul about his Muse and he would like to keep it that way. Who knew how the townsfolk would react to hearing that the man was getting help from an omnipotent, all-powerful dream demon from another dimension.

“Well, there’s plenty of it around.” Ma chuckled, putting a hand on Ford’s chest to hold him steady. “Try not to move too much, your shoulder needs stitching up.”

Ford nodded and remained dead still. He flinched ever so slightly as he felt the woman tie a few loops of thread through one end of his wound before carefully sewing her way up the rest of it. He was surprised at the small and precise stitches she was making. “How’d you learn to do that?”

“I’m old, dear. I’ve picked up several tricks in the past. I’ve lived through a war, after all.” Ma replied, her eyes intently focused on her work, yet they cast a quick glance at Ford’s hands every so often.

Ford folded his hands in his lap, feeling much more conscious of his extra digit all of a sudden. He was pushing thirty and still felt the need to keep them covered up. In reality, they probably weren’t all that noticeable. Only those who really picked up on things like this noticed them. Unfortunately, during his childhood, that had meant Crampelter and his goons. Here, though, nobody had particularly noticed his hands. He’d usually kept them hidden in his pockets every time he went into town. It had become a habit by now.

Ma gave his shoulder a gentle pat when she had finished her sewing. “There, all sealed up. I’ll just wrap some gauze over it to keep it clean.”

“Okay. Thank you for your help.” Ford smiled.

Ma waved it off. “No worries, dear. I couldn’t let you go out like that. You may have passed out before getting home. What did you say your name was?”

“Oh, Stanford. Stanford Pines.” Ford held out his hand for her to shake, but regretted it, realizing he’d just put all six of his fingers on display for her to see. Before he could take his hand away, Ma had grasped it and was shaking it.

“Well, Stanford, it’s lovely to have properly met you. I’m Maggie, but most people just call me ‘Ma’.” She adjusted her nametag. “My husband out there is called Patrick, but people call him ‘Pa’,”

Ford nodded. He instantly folded his hands in his lap again after Ma had released his hand. He hoped she hadn’t noticed his fingers. Idiot! Of course she had! She’d shaken his hand! There was no way she didn’t notice them. Maybe she won’t say anythi-

“Say, Stanford?”

Shit. “Yes?”

“I don’t mean to be rude or nosey, but why do you have six fingers?”

Ford felt his heart skip a beat. Honestly, that was the nicest way anybody had ever asked him about it (he was used to hearing things like “What’s wrong with your hands?” and “Are you a mutant?”) but it was still an uncomfortable question. “I was born with a birth defect. Six fingers on each hand.”

“That’s remarkable. And you can move the extra ones just as well as the others?”

“Yeah,” Ford wiggled his fingers to prove it. “It makes using a piano slightly more difficult. It helps with shadow puppets, though.”

Ma couldn’t help but laugh as she wrapped some bandages around the gauze on Ford’s shoulder. She frowned as she noticed that Ford’s expression had fallen. He looked almost ashamed. “I’m sorry, dear. I shouldn’t have laughed. I’m sure you were teased about it as a child, weren’t you?”

“Unfortunately so,” Ford sighed. “It was just the sort of thing that everyone knew about, and everyone picked on me for it.”

“Did you have any friends at school who stood up for you?”

“Not really,” Ford looked at the floor, keeping his hands folded and his sixth fingers hidden. “Only one. My twin brother.”

“That’s very good of him to stand up for his brother.” Ma smiled, tying off the end of the bandaging to keep it from coming undone. “There, you’re all done.”

“Thanks.” Ford stood up and pulled his shirt on again. It was still torn and bloody but at this point he didn’t have anything else to wear. He had plenty of other clothes back at home anyway. He put his jacket back on and dug in the pockets for his wallet.

Ma pushed Ford’s hand away as she saw the wallet. “Now, you put that away. I don’t want any sort of payment. We in Gravity Falls help each other out, no matter what. I wouldn’t dream of charging you any sort of fee for being attacked by one of those horrid monsters.”

“Are you sure? I’ve used your equipment and supplies, I feel it’s only right to-”

“Nonsense!” Ma cut him off. “They weren’t being used by anybody anyway. You’ve been a perfectly polite gentleman and a joy to talk to. Please, don’t give me any money.”

“If you insist,” Ford couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he tucked his wallet back into his pocket. He headed out the door back towards the main part of the shop. Before he went through the door, however, he felt a hand on his forearm and stopped.

“Now, listen here dear.” Ma spoke quietly and gently. “No matter what people say to you about your hands, you are no less than they are. In fact, I am sure you are far more polite, eloquent and caring than most of them could hope to be. Don’t let anybody tell you you’re a freak, or a mutant or whatever other horrible things people call you. You are a perfectly valid and unique human being who is going to achieve great things. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.”

Ford subtly wiped his eye, feeling himself tear up. “Thank you, for everything.”

“No problem, dear.” Ma led him back into the shop and waved to him as he left, returning to her post at the cashier’s desk. “Please, come again!”

Ford waved goodbye to Ma and Pa and headed back towards his house, through the woods and out of sight.

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My entry for Forduary Week 2: Science.

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