Yet more angst incoming. I think the next couple chapters are gonna be pretty angsty (with moments of light relief scattered about), just to warn you if you're not into that.

Oh, and one more thing - this chapter contains references to childhood bullying, and one brief mention of menstruation.


Mabel couldn't get any sleep. Not in this state.

It had been only ten minutes or so since she'd stormed upstairs. She hadn't even bothered to brush her teeth or change into her pyjamas. She just took her sweater off and threw herself under the covers. She'd noticed Dipper still wasn't there, which was almost a blessing in disguise - after what had been said downstairs, she knew she'd probably say something horrible to him if he was. It'd be their earlier argument all over again.

She tried every trick in the book to make herself go to sleep - covering herself completely, sandwiching her head between her pillows, surrounding herself with her stuffed animals, even tried the old meowing trick. Nothing worked. She just tossed and turned, unable to get that one word out of her mind.

Suffocating. She was suffocating. Maybe if she covered herself enough, she'd suffocate for real. Sounded like no-one would miss her, at this rate. She thought she was over this, she thought that meeting her future self and chatting with her had restored her confidence, when the truth was, it had just repressed all of her horrible feelings; and hearing what Grunkle Ford had said about her made them erupt like a volcano.

But really, when she thought about it, her future self hadn't said much to suggest she shouldn't feel horrible right now; if anything, she gave her a stamp of approval to feel horrible. She could have spent all night telling her stories about all the cool stuff she's been doing, but she couldn't tell her she shouldn't be afraid of growing up; she admitted she couldn't because she'd be lying to her. How else was she supposed to feel about that? 'Oh cool, I still feel horrible but at least now I know it's totally justified!'

She still couldn't believe it. Grunkle Ford hates her. Thinks she's stupid. Nothing but a burden holding her brother back. Just like how he treated Grunkle Stan. Stan protects him all the way through high school, but the moment he's no longer needed, he's discarded like so much trash. And Ford expects Dipper to do the same to her; and Dipper… didn't even stand up for her? Didn't call him out, didn't do anything? He agreed?

No… no, he couldn't. He's not like that. ...But really, would he even be wrong if he had agreed? Dipper is too good for her. He's always sacrificed for her. He always got straight As in school. He knows what he wants to do with his life. He can't wait to grow up. Meanwhile, Mabel barely coasts by on Bs and Cs; the only things she's good at are Art and English. Everyone tells her she's doing great, but she knows they're just saying that so she doesn't get upset, because she's a big dumb crybaby who has to dump her problems on other people. You only need to ask all those girls at school who she thought were her friends to know that.

'O-M-G, do you still believe in unicorns? What are you, five?'

'No-one cares if you make your own sweaters, you look like a dork. No-one wants to date a dork.'

'Cartoons are for babies. Why don't you watch reality TV like everyone else?'

'Ewww, you like pigs? Gross! No wonder you can't get a boyfriend!'

'Ugh, it's widdle cutey-wutey baby Mabel. Let's get out of here before she throws glitter in our faces and lectures us about cooties or whatever.'

'God, you are SO dumb. I almost feel sorry for your dork brother, if YOU'RE the closest thing he has to a friend.'

The one thing she could offer Dipper was an 'in' with others, a way to avoid being completely socially disconnected; and yes, she did try and stand up for him when other girls made fun of him behind his back, whenever they called him a 'sweaty loser' who's 'gonna die a virgin', like that even matters. She shouldn't even know what a 'virgin' is, she's still a kid!

But everyone else wanted to throw their childhoods away, and grow up into gross, zit-covered, shallow, grumpy teenagers who do nothing but gossip about fashion and jerks on reality TV and obsess over 'making out' with boys they don't even like. ...Maybe that's why she was so desperate to have an 'Epic Summer Romance', she wanted something to show her old 'friends', tell them 'look, I can make out with boys, too! Can we sit together at lunch again now?'

But no, now she's lost that. They're gonna get stupid. Dipper's not going to get down on her level anymore. He's going to throw her away.

She tried to wrap her pillow around her head and scream into it. If she wasn't trying to be less selfish, she'd almost wish the apocalypse happened just like her future self told her it would; at least then her brother wouldn't just throw her away, like their childhood never mattered; but judging from what little her future self had said about him in the ten years to come, they'd probably get stupid anyway. The apocalypse just delayed it.

Because she's a bad person. A horrible, horrible monster who can't do anything right. She can only suffocate people. Grunkle Ford is a smart guy; if he said it, it has to be true.

Finally, she threw the covers off. Somehow, she wasn't crying now. Maybe she'd finally run out of tears, or maybe she'd just become resigned to the hell that her life is going to be now. But she couldn't sleep.

She glanced over at the floor next to her bed; Waddles was there, sleeping peacefully, looking adorable as ever; he had been on the bed with her, but he'd gotten off when she started thrashing around. Sometimes she envied him, and animals in general; sure, they have to deal with predators and stuff, but they never have to 'grow up' like humans do. They can be adorable and roll around in the grass for their whole lives!

"Ugh… I wish I was a pig…" she couldn't help but muse. She was glad she was inside the anti-Bill shield right now; no doubt that isosceles jerk would come in and offer to actually turn her into one.

She got out of bed, putting her shoes back on. She knew she's not supposed to be up this late - whatever the time even was, she hadn't checked - but she needed to talk with her future self again. There were still questions she had to ask, and she did not have the patience to wait until morning to have them answered. If her parents were here to complain about her not getting enough sleep, they'd just have to deal with it.

Almost immediately after she left her and Dipper's room, she could hear voices echoing down the hall. She recognized them immediately - Grunkle Stan and Future Mabel.

"So, I dunno where Dipper is… ya think I should go look for 'im?"

"Eh… I'm sure he's fine. Pretty sure Corduroy taught 'im how to pitch a tent. ...It's late, pumpkin."

Mabel instinctively began to tip-toe along the floorboards - she'd snuck around enough this summer to know how to minimize the amount of creaking. She stopped for a moment to question why she was trying to be sneaky. It's not like she wanted to be inconspicuous right now. ...Maybe it's just better if she doesn't make a scene. Yeah, that's probably it.

"You 'ave a place to sleep, right?" Stan asked.

"Um… I have a van. You have a spare mattress? I think I can squeeze one in there."

"Why not just sleep in Dipper's bed?"

"I, uh… I-I don't wanna… Past Me needs some alone time right now. I thought I could cheer her up, but I can't. All I did was tell her she's right to be afraid of growin' up; I don't get to act surprised that she stormed off the moment she was reminded."

By now, Mabel had crept up to the door to Stan's room, where the voices were coming from. She put her back to the wall and listened closely.

"Yeah, well… I prob'ly can't help ya with that. I'm a man who grew up in the fifties-sixties. Back then we just sucked it up. Ya even talked about yer emotions, yer pa would call you a sissy an' slap you across the face. I ain't equipped to deal with emotions."

"Yeah, I understand…"

They both paused.

"So, uh… how's bein' a grown-up workin' out for ya, Mabel? I feel I shoulda asked this earlier, but then Poindexter had to come in an' put a stop to that."

"Eh, it's… mixed, I guess. It was kinda gross at first. Yanno, all these body changes. Stinky odours. I have to buy special sports bras 'cause these stupid boobs wouldn't stop slappin' all over the place. An' don't even get me started on periods. Blegh. But, yanno. Ya get used to it. People used to make fun o' me 'cause I'm a big gal, but to heck with 'em. They don't know me! Besides, I'm like a walkin' pillow that can flip cars over! I could prob'ly wrestle a Manotaur an' win! What do I care about winnin' some beauty contest? Not that I ain't beautiful in my own way, o' course! I am plenty beautiful!"

"Hah! Yep, that's my Mabel, alright. You haven't changed one bit! 'Course, ya take after me. 'Least in the body department. ...Hopefully not in the 'everythin' else' department."

"C'mon, don't be like that! We love you! For your huggability, an' your charm, an' your wise insight into topics as diverse as business, brawlin', gamblin', sweet-talkin', et cetera, et cetera!"

"I'm 'huggable'? Pumpkin, ya do know you almost crippled me earlier, right?"

"Psh, that's what they all say!"

"I'm sure they do…" Stan said, in a way that Mabel couldn't decide was sarcastic or not. She had difficulty understanding sarcasm at the best of times.

She could hear him taking a gulp of something - hopefully not that icky booze everyone was drinking earlier. Why would you want that? Sugar is far better; you lose control, sure, but in a fast, zippy energetic way! Not a slow, 'bluuuuuh' way.

"...So, uh… whaddya doin' fer a livin' nowadays?" Stan asked.

More silence, as Future Mabel could be clearly heard shuffling around on the shag carpet.

"I, uh… heh, i-it's nothin' too excitin'... I actually live here. At the Shack. It's kinda my house. W-well, not exactly. Grunkle Ford still owns the deed."

"...Huh. But he don't live 'ere?"

"Nah. It's still the Mystery Shack, actually. I'm kinda, like, the custodian. I also sell arts an' crafts stuff online. Knittin' work, badges, plush toys, that sorta thing. I actually made a plush version of myself once! Then I made her into a 'Goodoo Doll', which is like a Voodoo Doll, 'cept instead of stabbin' pins into it, ya just tickle it or cuddle it! Then you can hug someone no matter where they are! ...Don't think it works across time, though."

"Aww…" Mabel couldn't help but say under her breath, clasping her hands close to her chest. She'd love the ability to hug people from across the country, or even the world! ...Maybe she could hug herself that way. Woah. Get a good feel for how it's like to be on the receiving end of a Mabel-Hug. It was a brief light thought in the midst of all this misery.

"So, the Shack's still a thing, huh? S'what happened to Sixer, then? ...Did he die?" Stan asked, in a tone harsh enough to almost make Mabel's heart drop.

She couldn't tell if he was concerned or not… her heart hoped he was, but in the darkest recesses of her gut, where sugar feared to tread and only molasses and Yeastemite could go, she felt like he would have been happy.

Right now, even if she kinda-sorta hated that grumpy old nerd for calling her 'suffocating', and taking it for granted that she'd be fine with her brother being ripped away from her without so much as a second's notice, and throwing away his own brother without even thanking him for all that he'd done… she wouldn't want him dead. She wouldn't wish that on anyone. ...At least, she hopes so.

"Um…" her future self finally spoke up, "n-no, he didn't die, he's just… busy."

Stan took a long, deep sigh, and a long, deep gulp of whatever drink he had.

"Yanno what, Big Mabel? I dunno why I bothered. He'da been happier if I had just left him to rot. You were wrong to trust me, you shoulda listened to yer brother."

"What, and pushed the button?!" her future self asked, sounding hurt.

"Yeah. Yeah, ya shoulda pushed the button."

Future Mabel gasped, apparently in shock.

"Grunkle Stan, y… l-look, I know y… h-he's trying, you know that, right? He's trying to be better. He's just a bit… yanno…"

"Nah, I don't think I do know," Stan said, sounding firmer than a pile of bricks. "Yanno when he said bein' a twin is 'suffocatin', he weren't talkin' about you. He was talkin' about me. That's what I am to him, a liability."

"C'mon, he's just… he's been through a lot. Maybe you two just need to talk."

"There's no point, he wouldn't listen to me!" Stan snapped, the squeal of his chair against the floorboards being heard. "I been through a lot, too, but he didn't care. ...Yanno, he had a chance! After we cleared out those agents that night he came back, we both went upstairs an' just stared into the mirror. Admired what a pair of old geezers we'd become. It seemed… nice, like we'd actually gotten somewhere. He actually said I looked like dad. ...I shoulda taken that as a warnin' sign, 'cause seconds later Ford was pullin' the exact same stunt he did! 'Yer not 'worthy' to be in this household, Stanley, you ignoramus!'"

Mabel could hear him take more gulps, finally slamming his bottle down on his desk. "That's how it is with him, nothin' but fresh stabs to the back, over an' over! Well, I'm done. Ford wants to kick me out, fine. Let 'im. I'll never be anythin' but the dirt on his shoe. I've accepted that."

Mabel tensed up; she could feel her face getting hot at how broken her Grunkle sounded. She knew she should listen to her future self - she was sounding far more like Mabel than Mabel herself right now - but… but… maybe Stan was right. Maybe she should have pushed that button.

It seemed that even her future self's optimism wavered, as she clearly couldn't think of an answer. She just kept shuffling against the carpet.

"...Go get some sleep, pumpkin," Stan finally said as he audibly fell back into his seat, sounding more like an order than a suggestion.

"Y-yeah, I will… g'night, Grunkle Stan…"

By now, Mabel didn't even care that she was about to be discovered - and discovered she was, as her future self walked into the hallway, and froze up, seeing her younger self standing there.

They didn't say anything, but their matching expressions communicated enough to each other - they both felt horrible, and they were the only ones who could understand why. They can't do anything right.

"Um…" the younger Mabel was the first to speak, "i-if you wanna sleep upstairs, you can. I won't mind."

Future Mabel wordlessly nodded as she followed her upstairs.

Ten minutes later, Mabel was once again lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, with Waddles on the floor beside her, and now joined by her future self spread out on Dipper's bed. Like her, she hadn't bothered to get changed, she just took her boots off and collapsed onto the mattress with a loud squeak. She'd fallen asleep in minutes. She almost looked like a huge teddy bear. ...Turned out she was a heavy snorer, too.

She'd wanted to ask her questions, but after hearing her try and fail to mend the enormous gulf between their Grunkles, there was an unspoken understanding that neither of them were really in any position to be comforting anyone right now. Mabel still felt awful, and so did the other Mabel. At least they felt awful together, they supposed.

She did ask one question before she fell asleep, though.

"Future Me… why didn't you tell him they made up? That they went sailing together, just like Stan always wanted?"

"I couldn't. I don't want him to think the apocalypse should have happened. I don't want anyone to think that. Nothing is worth the end of the world."

"Not even Dipper?"

That question remained unanswered.