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It was two years from the summer that had changed everything. Mabel and Dipper had finally been permitted to come back to spend a summer at the Mystery Shack. The twins had gotten here a couple weeks ago, and had been settling in nicely again. It certainly felt more like home than Piedmont had ever felt for the both of them.

Mabel was sitting in the living room drawing in her book. Stanford was sitting next to her on the couch, observing her pen strokes with a leg crossed over the other. Stanford was in a big cozy sweater, pink with purple stripes that matched the one Mabel knitted for herself.

In truth, Mabel was squirming under her skin. Her arms hurt badly and she was swallowing down her discomfort. Stanford was quietly watching the coloured pens trace the page. Thoughts of Stanford finding out she was hurting herself ran loose in her mind, making that be what she was mainly focused on, instead of her drawing..

Drawing the one thing that had often given her comfort, Waddles was the subject of the piece Mabel was now drawing. The fat swine was laid in the sun patch in the middle of the living room, perfectly drifted off, a subject just meant for a masterpiece.

As Mabel drew, she tried to relax herself. Stanford was just watching, just listening to the scratchy strokes of the pen on her paper. It would be suspicious to be this tense for just drawing from observation anyways. Mabel's grip on the pen was either too tight or too loose, the lines becoming loopy or way too straight.

Eventually, when Mabel had gone through with a lighter shade of blue, Stanford had dozed off next to her. His head was tilted back and was snoring softly with his mouth open. Stanford's glasses slid up his forehead, blocked by his fluffy hair from going any further up his head.

Mabel giggled at the sight of her grunkle fallen fast asleep on the couch next to her, mouth gaping wide. Mabel was quite content to resume her observational sketch, eventually finishing her loose sketch of Waddles, her favourite swine in the whole world.

While she loved her family, Mabel was silently thankful for how busy they all seemed to be all the time this summer. Less time around people meant that there was less of a chance of Mabel slipping up and her sleeves being pulled up, whether by force or by accident. Even if it was lonely, it was very much enough for Mabel to not search out contact with others.

Dipper was out with Stanley in town, the two of them doing who knows what until who knows what time. To the added fact that the Mystery Shack was closed for the weekend, Mabel and Stanford were in the cabin alone for the day.

When Mabel and Dipper had convinced their parents to let them go back to Gravity Falls, they had come back to find that Melody and Soos had given life to a child and a cabin raised nearby, still running the tourist trap of the Mystery Shack. Soos had seemed psyched to have the two younger twins back, going on about how Stanley had missed the two kids, much to Stan's distraught protests of how Soos was exaggerating it.

Stanley and Stanford seemed to just be enjoying life here in their retirement, albeit Stanford still was partaking in testing theories on 'anomalies' from time to time, now this summer with Dipper's added help. The two older men had said they had been bored out of their minds from not seeing the twins last summer, Stanley being more reluctant to admit it, but Stanford elbowed him until he coughed it up.

Mabel quietly shut her book, gathering her many-coloured pens and shoving them in the pen sack she carried around on her person. It was a required thing for her to have now that she had been drawing more often.

Since Stanford would most likely stir at any of her movements, Mabel opted to just stay next to Stanford, leaning against him and taking deep breaths, feeling his body heat against her own. It had been a while, and she'd been avoiding people as much as she could possibly manage without being too suspicious.

Since Mabel's girlfriends Candy and Grenda were out of town, it was easier to think of excuses not to hang around with people. Candy's family had dragged her off to Spain with them for the summer, and Grenda was with her boyfriend for the summer.

Mabel often had spent afternoons in the woods, most days sleeping in late and going to bed as early as possible. She didn't mind the mass of sleep, it most often was nice anyways.. save for the abundance of nightmares. Mabel didn't really eat if she could get away with it, most often saying she ate earlier or going to bed before dinner.

Earlier, Mabel had been sitting on the couch alone, sitting with her open sketchbook perched on her knees. She had settled and began to sketch Waddles. Stanford, being home with her, had taken interest in his great-niece's art, and sat quietly next to her, observing her art process. He didn't ask much questions, and seemed more interested in watching how she traced Waddles's thicc form in front of them on the floor.

Now, Mabel's eyes felt heavy. Mabel was still next to Stanford, and in the living room, so she couldn't afford to fall asleep now. Not with the chances of her sleeves being disturbed, revealing what she'd worked so hard to conceal. Mabel slipped a hand slightly up her skirt on the outside of her leg, pinching her skin tightly, the already raw skin sending jolts of pain through her leg to keep her awake. She'd done this many times before, sometimes purposefully drawing blood.

Sighing, Mabel definitely was more awake now, either from the pain or the panic of being caught with her arms scarred thick from how she'd been treating herself. Mabel really couldn't tell. Everything to her either felt painful, or mind boggling numb...

It was comforting to be in someone's presence though, especially one of her grunkles. Mabel cherished the time she did spend with family, and she did feel guilty that she was purposefully avoiding contact. She'd even grown a dislike for hugs from the lack of tough, which normally Mabel was an avid advocate for hugs.

When Stanford finally woke up, he had stirred slowly, shaking his head to wake himself alert. Mabel looked up at Stanford, having been resting on his arm, his body warmth shared between hers. Blinking, Stanford yawned, fixing his glasses with the arm opposing Mabel. "Good- afternoon possibly, Mabel dear." Stanford mumbled, voice still rough from having one of his old man naps.

Mabel sat up, stretching her torso as she forced a smile up to her grunkle Stanford's face. She didn't want to immediately ruin Stanford's peaceful state by being moody or upset. "Afternoon Grunkle Ford!" Mabel giggled before adding playfully, "You sleep like a kitty!"

Stanford hummed in amusement, straightening and groaning as his body stretched. "Do I now?" Stanford ran a hand back against his hair, the fluffy overshoot gently bouncing back into place as it always had. Now that Stanley often wore his hair out too, his hair had fluffed out after so many years of being smothered by headwear, much alike to Stanford's hair.

Mabel hummed in confirmation, awkwardly standing up. As much as she wanted to just stay, she needed to get out of the room. Mabel's hands were shaking in nervousness, and she grabbed her sketchbook tight as she picked it up, bringing it to her chest.

Stanford cocked his head, a look of curiosity spread onto his face. "Off to somewhere already my dear?" He had furrowed his eyebrows, the silvery patches of hair set heavily over his brown eyes.

Mabel shrugged, nodding. She tried to think of an excuse, needing to leave the room before anything was said or done that could put her on the spot. "Just to put stuff away! And–" She paused, searching the floor. Mabel decided on an answer that could not only shoot away from her awkwardness, but also give a valid answer for wanting alone time. "—girl- problems.."

Stanford seemed confused for a moment, but his eyebrows raised in realization and then his face warmed into an understanding smile. "Oh-! Okay my dear. If you find a necessity of me, or want company, I most likely will be in my room. I have a few books that need reading." Stanford offered a kind smile, trying to ease anything negative Mabel would be feeling.

It wasn't much, but relief spread through Mabel. She felt bad for lying, her period wouldn't come for another few weeks at the least, but she didn't want her grunkle to know she was just itching to leave the room. She nodded, humming shortly. Mabel turned to Waddles, deciding against bugging him awake to drag him upstairs. He was much too peaceful to disturb now, his snores light.

Without a third thought to hold her hesitation any longer, Mabel held her things to her chest and ran up the stairs, Mabel's steps light as she got to her and Dipper's shared room. Mabel shut the door softly, deciding against locking the door. Stanford would knock if he required entry, and the other household members were out for the day. Besides, locking the door always would raise suspicion back in Piedmont, it might do the same here.

Closing her eyes, Mabel tried to shake out the thoughts of her legal residence from her thickly clouded mind. She didn't need that sort of thinking. Not now. Not in the summer. It would be a thing that was dealt with during the rest of the year's months when Dipper and Mabel weren't at the Shack.

Tossing her sketchbook on the bed, Mabel stood frozen in the middle of the room, thoughts racing. She couldn't get it out of her head. The yelling, the constant arguing. Mabel sunk to the floor against the wall, her fists in her hair.

Late at night, Mabel stood in the quiet hall, outside her brother's room.. The yelling carried easily up the stairs. Her father was yelling at their mother again. The two had decided against divorce, for reasons that seemed to be to try and make the kids happy. Mabel seemed to be hit by a truck by it. Dipper had started going to bed before the yelling started, but Mabel couldn't sleep with it. Rubbing her wet eyes, Mabel creaked the door to Dipper's room open. The room was dim, and much to Mabel's dismay, Dipper was already sleeping; the gentle rise and fall of his chest and shoulders just outlined in the soft light from his window. Mabel stood there a second, and slowly shut the door again. Dipper needed rest. Dipper didn't need this. Mabel couldn't bring herself to disturb him. Returning to her room, Mabel sunk back against the door. Her tears were streaming down her face, wet and spicy. Even her hands over her ears wouldn't drown out the sound of the shouting coming from downstairs.

Mabel couldn't stop the tears escaping from her eyes, biting down on her lip to stop from making any sound. The sounds of her parents yelling at each other late at night never left her mind, especially when she was by herself or everything was quiet. It was like a bomb went off in her head, exploding with the sour memories.

She and Dipper had gotten separate rooms for the first time in their lives, and Dipper often had listened to music with headphones on in evenings or was sleeping at the times the yelling would begin. Dipper had broken his late night habits when Mabel had had issues sleeping when they had still shared a room, sleeping abnormally early for a teenager, as both their grunkles had put it.

Back in the shack they now shared a room again, with Mabel seeming to be asleep far earlier than Dipper ever was, sometimes as early as falling asleep at five in the evening. It never was enough to truly leave Mabel's muddled mind. It never left her.

The nightmares. The nightmares of the possibilities of everyone around her hating her guts, someone finding out her self-harm secret and absolutely detesting her for it, of her parents, of... Weirdmaggedon. No matter how much Stanford had told Mabel that nothing was caused by her, in the back of her mind, she'd never truly believe his well-meaning words.

Stanford had talked about it sometimes when the two of them were on the phone last summer. He didn't bring it up much anymore, seeming to be believing her to be okay for the most part. Mabel didn't tell him about the horrible nightmares, the yelling of her parents, her self-harm habits that she'd grown to rely on. Mabel had an inkling Stanford might know something was wrong in his niece and nephew-in-law's stead, but didn't know where to place it.

Mabel ran her fists roughly over her closed eyes, sucking in a shuddering breath. She wished she had Waddles up here now, to hold the fat pig as she cried into his bristly fur. Mabel sniffled sorrowfully. She must be so childish, crying over things she knew were in the past, things she didn't have to power to change.

Mabel had frozen up as she heard Stanford's movement downstairs, his soft yet firm footsteps down the halls of the second floor of the Shack. Mabel relaxed when she heard the door to Stanford's room, knowing he'd most likely be in there a while, dead to sound and occupied with his reading. When Stanford read, it was hard to snap him out of his thoughts, sometimes having to go as far as to snatch to book out of his hands.

Mabel sighed softly, running her hands across her now-sore head under her long hair. She hadn't stopped growing it out, and now it was long enough that she could trip on it. Mabel slowly got up, her legs shaking out of anxiety. She hesitated at her desk, and against her smarts, she slid open the drawer, feeling along the underside of it for her blade. When her fingers found purchase of it, she slid it out and held it in her hands.

Closing the drawer, Mabel stared down at it in her hand. It was a small blade from a pencil sharpener, being off the small metal thing, unfastened by one of Stanford's screwdrivers. Mabel had simply asked for a screwdriver, and Stanford had given her one without asking for any reason, just gently reminding her to be careful and not hurt herself with the tool.

Mabel hadn't, of course. Hurt herself; at least not with the screwdriver. She was following instructions, after all. She was a good girl. Mabel knew that her intentions were definitely not what Stanford would have permitted had he pursued an answer further, but that had happened without issue. She'd returned the screwdriver after unfastening the blade from the sharpener upstairs, and Stanford didn't question her, drawing out his dungeon idea on graph paper that he was using in evenings to play Dungeons, Dungeons, and more Dungeons with Dipper.

Taking a small breath, Mabel closed her hand around the small blade. She needed to sit in the bathroom for this, easier for cleanup, and her sweaters wouldn't be tarnished with the blood that flowed from her arms. Mabel always made sure nothing would give away this, hence being asked if she was okay... Causing worry, causing issues, causing panic. She didn't want to be the reason for any of that.

Listening again to make sure she didn't hear movement from downstairs, Mabel opened the door quietly, trotting downstairs. She slipped into the second floor bathroom. It made her nervous to be only two doors down from Stanford and doing this, but the smallest, yearning part of her.... the smallest part of her, wanted him to see. Mabel wanted to be comforted, told she was a good person, to be held close.. Stanford was a source of comfort for her, someone Mabel knew wouldn't tell anybody anything unless she permitted him to. Someone... safe.

Mabel sat on the close toilet lid, opening her hand. Mabel stared at the glinting blade for a minute, thinking about what she was doing. She rolled up her sweater sleeves, her forearms being marred with cuts that had scabbed over from this morning. They were all red and inflamed, some having tufts from the yarn of her knitted sweaters, most different colours.

Grabbing a length of toilet paper, Mabel knew she'd need it if not to get blood all over everything. Mabel set the white wrap of toilet paper on her leg for now, dragging the blade through her skin, the familiar tearing feeling comforting to her. The beads of the dark red, warm, viscous liquid running down her arms.

Mabel had eventually done this to both arms, dabbing at the freed blood with wads of toilet paper. Her arms were now satisfyingly covered in new cuts, at least... satisfying for her. Mabel's arms were now an atrocity, covered in what she had done to herself. Mabel had almost a sick collection of bloody pieces of toilet paper, gathering a pile next to her.

Mabel swallowed, the sight of the blood enough to send the familiar light-headed feeling through her body. She stood up, leaning heavily on the sink with an arm as she quietly lifted the toilet seat to toss the bloodied restroom tissue into the toilet bowl. Mabel took a deep breath, trying to regain her balance in the moment.

Flushing the toilet, Mabel had paused for about five seconds before she started running the water for the sink, giving her blade a hasty rundown rinse so it wouldn't build up crusty red blood. Putting her arms in the water, Mabel softly hissed from the exposure, her eyes scrunching to a squint as she scrubbed at her arms. The blood had started coming off her arms, leaving the sink bowl a nice pasty red before Mabel ran her hand over it, waiting for the reddish tint to be gone before turning the knobs to the sink to turn it off.

Mabel dried her arms on the towel, patting her arms dry on the dark blue towel. Thankfully, her arms didn't immediately bead up with blood, avoiding staining the towel. Mabel sighed in relief, fumbling with her hair in the mirror before slipping the small blade into a sock in case Stanford came out of his room.

Mabel had pulled her sleeves down, a rush coming to her head, making her grab the sink for support. Mabel breathed deeply for a minute, thinking about how hungry she really was, the blood loss she just made herself go through, and when was the last time she actually drank anything....

When Mabel regained her breath, she stood up straight, heading out of the bathroom to go back to her room. Thankfully, Stanford seemed to not be concerned about the length of time Mabel had been in the bathroom, staying in his room as Mabel made her way swiftly back up to her room.

Back in her shared room with Dipper, Mabel closed the door behind her, streamlining a way to her desk. She opened the middle drawer under the surface of the desk, sliding the small razor blade back in it's respective 'home'. She took a step back from her desk, going bedward. Mabel sat on her bed, a hand on her book, hesitating for a moment thinking that she might draw some more.

Upon second thought, Mabel flopped backwards lazily, head hitting her pillow accompanied with a defeated sigh. Her brown eyes angled toward the ceiling, arms loosely to either side, this was how Mabel spent most of her time. She was too tired to try and do anything else, losing what she thought her energy that made Mabel.. well, Mabel......

Mabel was startled when Dipper ran through the door with a crash, sitting up quickly with her eyes wide. The door was pulled open, sounding like Dipper hadn't bothered to even turn the knob before pulling it open harshly. Dipper was brandishing his satchel that he had started wearing frequently. It was a plain brown side bag with DDamD pins stuck all over the sides and top of the satchel.

Dipper had a smile stretched wide on his face as he trotted over to Mabel's bed. Mabel relaxed a tad knowing it was Dipper now. "Mabel Mabel! I got you stuff in me and-" Dipper paused in his sentence, heaving. Dipper had bent over, grabbing his knees and taking deep breaths. Despite having more physical activity, the boy still had issues with any abrupt speedy activity. "-grunkle Stan's outing!"

Mabel cocked her head, returning his grin with a curious lilt. "What is it! Let me see!" Mabel giggled before sitting on her heels, giving Dipper her attention. Dipper plopped down on the edge of her bed, swinging his satchel from his side to his lap.

Dipper fixed his hat before speaking again. Dipper still had the brown trapper hat that Wendy had given to him, now worn with the flaps down."So, I figured you might want other colours to draw with sooo-" He paused for dramatic effect, sticking his arm into his bag. Dipper pulled out a few different coloured pens and brandished them out for Mabel to see. "I got you these!" He looked proud of himself to gift something to his twin sister.

With a delighted peep from Mabel, she took the pens and looked at them closely. She brushed her sleeves down while looking at the pens, making sure her sleeves stayed put as she exclaimed, "How did you know I ran out of ink in these colours!" Mabel was terribly delighted, grinning up at Dipper while setting them on the bed behind her.

Dipper grinned mischievously, flicking his eyebrows up and down mysteriously. "Who knows sis, maybe I did sum magic." He wiggled his fingers at her maniacally, gaining a giggle from Mabel. Dipper sighed, looking down at his lap and with a more subdued tone added, "No, really I just looked in your pencil bag while you were sleeping this morning-" He sounded vaguely disappointed with himself, as if wishing he had done magic.

Mabel snorted, shrugging dismissively at the non-magical part of his speech, piping up, "Hey! No Mr. Frowns here, I still got pens!" Mabel puffed her cheeks out in a confidence she pushed out to the world. Dipper seemed to perk up at Mabel's false-confidence, smiling back up at her.

With a satisfied hum, Dipper smiled again and reached into his satchel once more. "Okay okay Mabel! Anyyyways, I also got you gummies, since I kn-" Dipper was cut off by Mabel's squeal of excitement when he pulled out gummy koalas, her all-time favorite type of gummy since coming to Gravity Falls two summers ago. Gravity Falls always had the weirdest things.

Mabel took the bags of gummy koalas from Dipper, grinning as she set them in her lap. She smiled widely at Dipper's face. "Thank you Dip Dip!" She seemed happy enough with her loot now, and to Dipper that made him feel good about himself. He'd done something nice for Mabel.

Dipper nodded, smiling as he got up from Mabel's bed. "Mhm! Only for you Mabel!" Mabel's eyes flicked down at the sweets now in her lap, but flitted back up to watch Dipper walk across the room thoughtfully. His steps were more decisive now that he had grown into his feet, and he was taller now, though still not taller than Mabel, now by two millimetres.

Dipper set his satchel at the other side of the room, sitting down for a moment on his bed to right his hat and sweater vest. Mabel took this time that Dipper was sitting down to ask him where him and Stanley had been for the day, having been wondering that most of the day. The two of them hadn't said where they were going, and it spiked curiosity in Mabel.

Dipper looked up after fussing with his sweater neckline. He squinted his eyes, looking down at the floor for a moment before fixing his gaze with Mabel's again. "Uhhhh- Out- in town-" Dipper's voice trailed off, and Mabel had a gnawing feeling she wouldn't get an answer out of Dipper, not with his dodgy attitude.

With the separate rooms that they had been under the roof of their parents, Mabel and Dipper had grown apart... Not really telling the other twin much of anything anymore, becoming more independent people. It hit Mabel harder, hurting when Dipper would shut her down when she knew she would trust him with any information he'd ask...

Later that night, or early morning depending on how you perceive it, Mabel had slunk out of bed, careful not to wake Dipper from his slumber. She was wearing a sleeveless gown, tossed over her underclothes as she scrambled out of bed. Mabel hadn't been too concerned about anyone seeing her if she slept with a blanket, as Mabel usually burrito'd herself so tightly she wasn't at risk of being caught with her arms out of her blanket.

Mabel made it quietly through the house, intent on getting a glass of water. As loud with rumbles as her stomach got, she didn't wish to eat any food. The mere thought of eating made her feel sick to her stomach. Mabel most likely would either on purpose or by her body's reaction vomit anything she ate regardless, it would just be a waste of food to attempt to consume edible food.

Entering the kitchen tiredly, Mabel had gone to the cupboards to grab a glass, scanning the shelves tiredly before selecting one with a pinkish tint. The cup was a strong cup, one that Stanley had said would be hers. Most likely stemming from a fear of Mabel breaking glass and possibly hurting herself, he had picked a cup he didn't think would break, but also a glass cup.

Filling the glass with water from the sink spigot, Mabel took a long drink of the cool water, draining the water from the cup. The water felt cool on Mabel's throat, run raw from not really drinking or eating much. She refilled the drink several times as such, gulping down the soothing water.

Suddenly, Mabel's blood ran icy cold from the sound of a deep voice behind her. "Mabel...?" It was Stanford's voice, sounding horribly worried. Mabel's hand had lost it's grip on the glass, and it thankfully fell into the sink unharmed.. further proving it was near unbreakable by simple mishaps.

Biting her cheeks hard, Mabel slowly turned around towards Stanford, not about to meet her grunkles's worried gaze. With as much confidence that she could have mustered, Mabel quietly muttered back, feeling ashamed of how Stanford walked in on her. "G- Good evening Grunkle F-Ford..." Mabel cursed herself in her head, she sounded pathetic.

Stanford looked at a loss for words, mouth agape. He stepped forward into the room awkwardly, trying to rack his mind for words. "Is... Is it okay for me to approach Mabel?" Stanford asked softly, his arms out cautiously. Stanford was in his sweater and slacks, looking like he'd been in the lab... Usually he was in his room and sleeping by now.

Mabel hesitated, nodding slowly with a gulp. Tears welled up in her eyes as Stanford walked over hastily, taking Mabel's hands smaller hands in his own larger ones. He ran a hand over each of her arms, frowning nervously. "Good gods Mabel... what have you done to your beautiful body...?" Stanford asked this more rhetorically, swallowing hard. Stanford had never thought Mabel would have gone this far with hurt, but now this was laid in front of him.

Stanford squeezed Mabel's hands in his own, speaking softly to her, "How.. long have you been doing this Mabel dear–?" Stanford's brow furrowed as Mabel stayed quiet, keeping her gaze on the floor while tears fell from her big brown eyes. He wanted answers, but trying to force answers out of a frightened person never was the solution that worked.

Feeling his throat knot up, Stanford cleared his throat lightly. "Can we... go sit and talk? Please– Mabel? I can't... in good consciousness ignore this." Stanford's eyes were on her arms, looking at how she had marred herself. Everything was layered over and over... Mabel had been doing this for... ages.

Mabel shrugged shamefully, her head sinking back in between her shoulders when they had came up beside her head. Seeing her nervousness, Stanford pulled her into himself, her head against his chest. Mabel had stiffened for a moment, but thankfully had relaxed in his arms.

Stanford felt Mabel's shuddering breath as her arms had tightened around his waist. His breath hitched from the tightness, but he sure wasn't going to loosen Mabel's grip now. She needed comfort, and Stanford did not intend of depriving her of it.

Stanford let Mabel cry into him, her sobs eventually evolving into soft whimpering as she tried to calm herself in Ford's embrace. Stanford rubbed her back with a hand, trying to make soothing circles with his other hand on the back of Mabel's head, running through her loose hair.

When Mabel finally calmed, she was heaving from shortness of her breath, and muttering apologies into Stanford's fluffy red sweater. Stanford pulled back softly, cupping her cheek with a hand and brushing off tears from her plump cheeks. Mabel's eyes were now red and puffy, and it sent jolts of guilt through Stanford. That he hadn't noticed how Mabel was struggling. How quiet Mabel had been, how she avoided people, and slept a lot; it all made sense to him now. Mabel was hurting, and didn't want anybody else to know.

"Dear, don't apologise. You have nothing to apologise for... I promise." Stanford shushed her apologies, sighing. Stanford pulled back from Mabel, keeping a hand around hers. Mabel stayed quiet, not wanting to speak at all. She didn't trust herself to utter even a single word without bursting into fat, pathetic tears. Stanford hesitated, but he put a hand to her chin, tilting her gaze up to meet his. "My dear. I'm not angry, just.. worried. I promise."

Stanford paused when Mabel looked away again, but sighed in his relief when she slowly nodded. Stanford pulled away from her completely, gesturing to the living room. Mabel quietly nodded, and the understanding passed between the two of them.

The two walked into the living room quietly, and Stanford sat down on the couch. With hesitation, Mabel stiffly sat next to him on the next cushion over. Stanford placed his hands in his lap after fixing his still-broken glasses. The man still hadn't been to an eye doctor to get himself checked out, or simply made glasses himself.

"I... don't know what to do. Truly..." Stanford trailed off in his thought process, snapping back to attention with a soft question, "Do you... want to talk about what's the issue?" Stanford suggested this, hoping Mabel would talk to him. Stanford wanted to help, he just... simply didn't know how in this situation.

Stanford's hopes were denied by a small shake of Mabel's head, her big brown eyes directed down at her lap. The living room was softly lit up by the glow of a soft yellow lamp, that was kept on most of the night. Most of the day really the light stayed on, what with Gravity Fall's random eclipses that seemed to come as random as a d100's roll.

Racking his mind for possible things he could do to potentially help calm and/or soothe Mabel, Stanford slowly opened his arms widely. "Do you want me to just... hold you for now then dear?" Mabel nodded softly, biting her lip softly. She felt guilty, and now that Stanford knew, he'd be nothing but worried for her.

Mabel didn't want to speak at all right now. Didn't want to burden Stanford with what she deemed useless to talk about. It never had ever changed anything, and in the end it just made people worried about her, adding stress into their own lives...

Stanford shifted to make himself comfortable as Mabel pressed herself onto him, half lying against him, head on his chest. Stanford rubbed a hand along Mabel's shoulder, trying to give comfort to his hurting great-niece. His eyes were fixed on her breathing, now that it had calmed a significant amount.

Mabel had closed her eyes, arms curled into her own chest. She looked peaceful enough in his grasp. Stanford knew he'd have to talk to her about this, to know what she was hurting herself with and potentially lock up anything she could have used, but he couldn't just deny her comfort when she needed it the most.

When Mabel had fallen asleep, her body had grown a tad heavier against Stanford, and he was content to have her close. Knowing that he would wake before the other two ends of the twins's pairs, Stanford shut his eyes, trying to relax against the arm of the couch. His mind was still racing; how could he have not known, why had she not told him, and really, why was she hurting herself....?