athousandapologies
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“Anyway, I called to let you know that—that is to say, I’m gettin’ married.”
The tapping of Ford’s foot comes to a stop.
It feels like the rest of the world should stop, too, then. He even sits there, perfectly still and with bated breath, giving Gravity Falls a picture-perfect opportunity to unshackle any of its regular irregularity. Any moment now, some supernatural being could intercept their call, or the laws of physics would be inexplicably broken, or maybe some gargantuan, never before seen beast would just barge through the cabin wall in a homicidal rampage, and Ford would welcome it all with open arms.
But the clock keeps ticking, the crickets keep chirping, and the world keeps spinning. It’s only him and his heart that’d stopped.
(Or: Fiddleford chose Ford to be the best man at his wedding. Neither one of them are particularly happy to be there.)
Bookmarked by athousandapologies
01 Jul 2026
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“Am I gay?” Ford reads the quiz out loud, before clicking to begin. To his frustration, most of the questions are simply asking him if he has had sex with men (he hasn’t), if he wants to (he isn’t quite sure), or if he ever will (the jury is still out). Nothing defines attraction, no one clarifies if the burn in his stomach is love or gastrointestinal issues, and nothing leaves him feeling any better on the subject.
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Stanford Pines has never loved a woman but, he realizes with a painful jolt, he can’t say with certainty he’s never loved a man.
Bookmarked by athousandapologies
25 Dec 2025
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Fiddleford McGucket was born in a drought. His life seemed to be dictated by that unnatural imbalance, that wanting. Stanford Pines was the object that wanting was hung upon. It won't end well for either of them.
Bookmarked by athousandapologies
13 Sep 2025
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But he thinks, somewhere down the line, the love he holds for Stanford Pines had become flush with religion. He thinks when Ford’s honeyed voice had begun to deafen that of the God he worshipped in church is when that love had surpassed it. And if that’s the truth, then his wedding vows had been made to a god he’d long since lost touch with, as his real religion took the title of “best man” in stride.
Not that it matters much in the end. He’d still wound up back in the house of his god, these days a lonely little shack in some shabby Oregon town but once a college dorm with walls too thin and bipolar air-conditioning, no matter how he tried to stay away.
(Or: Fiddleford McGucket does not have a problem, and Stanford Pines has a hickey.)
Bookmarked by athousandapologies
21 Jul 2025
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Fiddleford knew something was wrong. Turned out that wasn't enough.
(Or, what's it like living in a house that is more or less a passive extension of a demon that hates you?)
Bookmarked by athousandapologies
15 Mar 2025