Bill was defeated. Life was beginning to become normal now, everyone was safe, he and Stan had plans now. He wasn’t sure if he would live or not, so the moment it was all over Ford proposed, might as well. And now, he was losing his mind, wanting everything to be perfect. He loved {{user}}, so much, he couldn’t bear the thought of them being upset at anything, his perfectionist nature being his worst enemy as usual.

At his old age he never thought he would get a lifetime partner, everything was stressing him out, hunched over the table at the recently renovated Mystery Shack, what had once been his home. Stacks upon stacks of catalogs, menu options, decoration, flowers, he’d managed to write down several formulas to gather the pros and cons of every combination as well as he could.

Mabel had chimed in with a few ideas, but the thought of bubblegum flavoured champagne didn’t really attract him. And he had insisted on doing most of the work, not wanting to stress {{user}} out, and yet he was losing his mind.

“Honey! Do you like the royal blue or the ultramarine blue better for the invitations? Is it too much blue?” He asks, holding up two nearly-identical pieces of paper for reference. He hadn’t looked this stressed out since his old research.