“One, when your eyes shine brighter than the stars.”
One of their favorite things was simply laying outside, connecting the stars. Pacifica wouldn’t admit she spent more time watching Mabel as she painted pictures in the sky than the stars.
A hand threading through blonde locks, Mabel would tell her stories of the stars. Pacifica knew only about half of them were remotely accurate, but she loved listening nonetheless.
Pacifica would watch as Mabel’s eyes lit up, vividly describing the scenes while talking animatedly.
In times like these, Mabel shone brighter to her than a shooting star.
“Two, your seemingly endless support.”
Pacifica can’t remember how many times Mabel has simply hugged her, rubbing soft circles into her back, and told her that everything would be okay. The more energetic girl would quickly become a pillar for her, a shoulder to cry on. She would listen attentively, she would know just what to say, or what not to say. It was so much more than Pacifica was used to. Her friends never offered her this much attention, and her parents certainly didn’t either. Their presence while she was upset made her turn defensive.
Everything about Mabel’s presence was comforting at times.
Pacifica never knew how to thank Mabel enough for all those times.
“Three, your laugh.”
Mabel had a full body laugh. Pacifica would laugh along with the joke, part of her also watching the girl’s laughter. Her laugh was the type you felt the need to join in with.
With every laugh, Pacifica felt herself falling more in love with her. It was incredibly hard not to fall for her when she made her this happy, even in her lowest moments.
Sometimes, Pacifica could swear Mabel’s laughter could cure any ailment.
“Four, your smile.”
Even without braces or a retainer, Mabel had a dorky smile. Full toothed at her happiest, Pacifica swore that for every time she had made Mabel lose her smile before, she would find a way to return it tenfold.
She quickly fell in love with Mabel’s softer smile. It was the smile she wore after they kissed softly. It was the smile she wore when she caught her simply looking at her at night- no matter how long they were together, that still flustered her to no end. It was the smile she wore in their quieter moments; the moments of simply enjoying each other’s presence.
Even the smile Mabel wore after telling a particularly bad pun, Pacifica secretly loved. She just showed that affection through an eye roll and saying her name irritably.
“Five, how you hold my hand.”
Fingers interlocked. Every time. Mabel strutted about, swinging their interlocked fingers together happily. At first, Pacifica had been self-conscious, believing everyone they passed to be staring at them. In time, she became comfortable, even joining Mabel’s proud strut at times. The girls would end up at the destination, giggling at each other.
Pacifica loved the way Mabel’s thumb traced circles into the back of her hand at home. It was calming. Mabel would absentmindedly grab Pacifica’s hand during a movie, the pace of her tracing depending on the scene. It was one of her many habits that Pacifica would laugh about.
Mabel had a habit of taking Pacifica’s hand whenever she was excited about something too. Even when she wasn’t going to drag her somewhere, she would hold her hands with both of her own, bouncing in place.
Pacifica learned she loved holding Mabel’s hand whenever she could.
“Six, your voice.”
Mabel never had the best singing voice, there was no denying that. She sung anyway. She sung in the car, in the shower, whenever she heard a song she liked. Pacifica would join in sometimes, but she mainly listened. She wasn’t the best, but she was still Mabel. She was still Pacifica’s favorite dork.
Mabel would always find unique voices when telling her stories. A bad imitation of Stan, her dorky rendition of Dipper’s voice, Pacifica found herself easily smiling along. (Her favorite was her Dipper voice, especially when Dipper was in the room to hear it. It always irritated him to no end, but he would only whine for Mabel to stop, half the time putting a book over his face as he did.)
But most of all, Pacifica loved Mabel’s talking voice. The way she called her nicknames, her voice when she was excited, her voice when she was being a grump, all of it.
Mabel’s voice was all her own, and Pacifica found she could not, and did not want to, stop listening.
“Seven, how you know what I need before I do.”
It was often that Pacifica found herself enveloped in a hug before she even knew she wanted one. Mabel seemed to know just by how she walked in the door if things were okay. She could tell exactly when simply a hug was needed, when Pacifica needed to talk it out, when Pacifica didn’t want to say a word.
Pacifica didn’t find herself asking for much Mabel already seemed to know what she needed before she could ask.
“Eight, the way you hold me when we sleep at night.”
An arm across her stomach, pulling them close together. Mabel’s soft breath against the back of her ear as they began to fall asleep. The way Mabel’s hold tightened slightly in protest when Pacifica shifted in the morning.
Her arms felt like home.
“Nine, how you bring out the child in me.”
Mabel somehow got Pacifica pretending straws were walrus tusks and playing “The Floor is Lava” when they were bored at home, Pacifica pushing Mabel into the “lava” and Mabel giving a dramatic speech about being betrayed as Pacifica giggled half the time. Finding old Nerf guns, they set up their own forts, playing until the other got shot with a foam dart. Storming nights called for a larger fort, the inside lit by a lantern as they took turns telling horror stories.
They still bickered like they did when they were 12. That would simply never change, nor did either of them want it to. The bad imitations of each other, the faces and tongues stuck out at each other, rolled eyes, and irritated noises made them both smile in the end.
These games nearly made it feel as if they had lived their whole lives together.
“Ten, simply being yourself.”
There were many reasons Pacifica Northwest loved Mabel Pines. All of them boiled down to Mabel simply being Mabel.
Pacifica would love her any way she was.
“One, the smile you save just for me.”
Mabel knew there were sides Pacifica wouldn’t let the world see. The tense smile she wore around her parents killed Mabel inside. There was the smile she wore for the public to see, the one she would see on their dates.
Then, there was the soft smile Pacifica wore when they were alone. It was the smile when Mabel knew she was happy, unguarded.
She wanted there to be a day that Pacifica could show the world that smile.
“Two, when you hug me from behind.”
It wasn’t uncommon for Pacifica to hug Mabel from behind, especially in the morning. With only a hum of greeting, she would rest her head on Mabel’s shoulder as Mabel attempted to make breakfast. (Pacifica would then end up kicking her out of the kitchen before she burned half of the breakfast, and the only reason Pacifica didn’t burn anything was more practice.)
The feeling of the familiar pair of arms wrapping around her always made Mabel smile. She would feel Pacifica briefly hide her face in her back, mumbling something Mabel could never completely hear.
“You know I can’t hear you, right?” She would tease, putting a hand over one of Pacifica’s.
“Shut up.” The irritated reply would elicit a laugh from Mabel.
Each hug was a small “I love you,” in the morning, and Mabel loved them.
“Three, the sound of you saying my name.”
There were a million ways Pacifica said her name. Each time felt unique to Mabel, like a new favorite word to hear her say. Pacifica would say her name many times throughout the day, but it was always the mornings when Pacifica said it that were Mabel’s favorite.
Pacifica’s voice became scratchy in the morning, and while Pacifica hated it, Mabel always found it endearing. The way the sound of it made Pacifica look so irritated first thing in the morning, even after Mabel kisses her nose, made Mabel fall that much more for the blonde.
Mabel had loved Pacifica’s voice, and she loved it that much more when she spoke her name with affection.
“Four, the way you listen.”
Pacifica always seemed to make time to listen to everything Mabel had to say. Even when working, she would laugh at a joke, provide a quip with a small smirk on her face. It was only when she was done that she would turn around and face Mabel, never losing her place in the conversation.
She would sit and listen when Mabel just needed to talk a problem out. She was there to provide advice, or just to listen and understand.
Pacifica had a way of remembering the smaller things simply from listening. It never ceased to surprise Mabel.
“Five, every night you stayed awake to talk to me for any reason.”
There’s no denying that their teenaged years were full of their own problems, yet to Mabel, it felt like Pacifica stayed awake with Mabel through each one. Though far in distance, they would simply talk over the phone, over video chat, over anything. Pacifica was one of the best people at bringing Mabel from tears to laughing in seemingly no time at all.
Countless other times they simply lost track of the time. Their phone conversations could go through the night, neither completely regretting staying up the whole night.
Mabel refused to admit she delayed hanging up on a video chat when Pacifica fell asleep, muttering a good night.
“Six, how you show that you care.”
Pacifica doesn’t stay “I love you,” much. Mabel learned this fairly quickly. Instead, she falls asleep on Mabel’s shoulder during a movie. She would steal Mabel’s clothes in the morning, wearing them around town comfortably. She would put on Mabel’s favorite movie, grab a blanket, and snuggle up with her after a long day. She would leave presents on the table when work called her out of town for more than a day. She would pull Mabel away from a project and make sure she ate, drank water, took care of herself.
Pacifica did little things to show she loved Mabel, and Mabel knew exactly what each meant.
“Seven, the way your nose crinkles when you’re annoyed.”
Pacifica is easy to read after a long time. She bit her lip when concentrating, tilted her head when she was confused, and played with her hands when she was nervous. Mabel found her most adorable expression was when she crinkled her nose. She’d look over and see her nose crinkled while watching TV, reading, or sometimes cooking. She’d even crinkle her nose at some of Mabel’s worst jokes.
The two seemed to be able to communicate through only a series of facial expressions,
“Eight, how you accept me for who I am.”
If someone had told 12 year old Mabel that the girl that kept showing her up would end up being the one she could tell all of her secrets to, she probably wouldn’t have believed them. Pacifica was one of the first two people to know Mabel’s secrets, the parts of Mabel that others had made her hide, and she was second only to Dipper.
Pacifica had been the second person Mabel had come out to immediately after Pacifica herself had come out, and the two only fist bumped before jumping into a conversation about cute people in town. Pacifica kept Mabel’s secrets with ease, accepting the girl in full.
It became so easy to tell Pacifica things that Mabel hardly remembered what it had been like to not talk to her.
“Nine, how you know exactly how to cheer me up.”
The first time Mabel cried in front of Pacifica, things had been awkward. There had been a tense hug, both slowly relaxing with calming words of reassurance. The second time had been easier, Pacifica threatening to ruin the people who made her cry (Mabel wouldn’t let her).
In time, Pacifica learned all the tricks to get Mabel to smile. She learned her most ticklish places, the jokes that left her breathless from laughing, the words that helped her the most.
They both learned how to help each other up at their lowest and Pacifica became someone who could get Mabel to smile even on her worst days.
“Ten, simply being yourself.”
Mabel Pines could write a book with all the reasons she loved Pacifica Northwest. In the end, they could be summarized as Pacifica being Pacifica.
Mabel would love her any way she was.