Reality Is Stranger Than Fiction

We'll Meet Again (Frank Sinatra)

It's been two months since Weirdmagedon two, and not quite a full year since the first Weirdmagedon. Time passed by you quickly, slipping through your fingertips.

Soon, Mabel and Dipper would have to go back home for the school year, leaving you, Ford, and Stan in a quiet house in their absence. You had to admit, you were going to miss the organized chaos that Mabel and Dipper brought into your lives. Despite everything that's happened, you wouldn't trade it for a world.

Okay, well that was a lie. You would trade everything that's happened with Bill for something better. He still haunted you and Ford in the form of nightmares, your brains trying to process the traumatic events that had haunted you for over thirty years. At least, he couldn't bring you more pain. Anything you saw now was something that'd already been. Thankfully, as the days went on, each day got a little bit better.

Since then, you'd been on many trips to check in and study the local anomalies.

You'd ventured down into the alien crash site with Fiddleford and Ford, spending time with old friends and new smiles.

You'd been to the marshes to see if Orbit was keen on returning to their habitat (the Plaidypus had not been, instead they followed the two of you back home).

You'd taken Mabel and Dipper to see the Gravity Fall's waterfall, as well as a few other anomalies.

You'd been all across the small town, and a sense of comfort and normality had finally returned to your lives.

A familiar six-fingered hand extended in front of you, pulling you from your mind. You gripped it, allowing Ford to help pull you up the, particularly steep path. As you stand up on the top of the canyon next to him, you allow yourself to gaze over your husband for a moment.

He's lit from the back by the setting sun, a ring of light around his back that is nearly as bright as the smile stretched across his face. His hair is pulled back gently, the long ends now brushing against his shoulders from not being cut. You can see faint freckles on his cheeks, and the slivers of his blueberry eyes draw you in like an endless ocean. He laces his fingers with you, a small feeling of safety and comfort washing over you thanks to the additional finger. His maroon sweater brushes against the back of your skin, still soft despite how frequently he wears it.

"You okay?" he whispers, his eyebrows furrowing together in worry. You raise your free hand and rest it gently on the side of his jaw, brushing your thumb back as if you could wipe away his worry.

"I've never been better. I was just admiring my handsome husband," you assure him, gently leaning forwards and pressing your lips against his. He squeezes your hand, wrapping his free hand around your waist and pulling you closer to him. You swear he's as red as his sweater when you pull away.

"I love you," he hums, resting his forehead against yours.

"I love you too," you return, gently stroking the side of his face.

The two of you stay there for a moment, allowing you to take in his lopsided smile. His gentle presence, despite the years, persisted in your company. It never ceased to put a rested smile on your lips.

When the two of you start to walk again, he keeps his fingers wrapped around yours, swinging them gently as the two of you make your way along Gravity Fall's canyon. You were above where the alien craft had crashed through. Half to let him measure the level of anomaly from up here, and half to watch the sunset.

Orbit sticks their head out of Ford's coat pocket as the two of you sway your arms back and forth, walking through the twilight-lit forest. The redwood trees didn't spark fear in your head despite the fact that they towered over you. Instead, they provided you comfort and solace in the fact that you were safe and protected.