Day 2
Mabel lay on her bed, flipping through one of her numerous photo albums. Pacifica sat beside her, bemusedly watching as Mabel pointed at various photos and describing the events surrounding them. Mabel was currently regaling her with the thrilling tale of rescuing Octavia the eight-legged cow from old Farmer Sprott, a story which Pacifica would honestly not have believed without the photographic documentation.
“So then we released her into the wild,” Mabel concluded, “And she shot a bird with her laser vision and ate it.”
“Anywhere but here, that story would be dismissed as a tall tale.” Dipper said from across the room. “And Photoshop.”
Mabel stuck her tongue out at Dipper. “Well, good thing it’s here, then, huh?” she turned back to Pacifica. “How ‘bout you, Paz? Do you have any cool photo albums?”
Pacifica bit her lip. “No,” she admitted, “My parents never let me do any artsy stuff. They always said that anything we really needed should be bought, not made. There’s servants to make stuff., I’ve never really seen the point of it.”
Mabel looked at her girlfriend with a look of pure incredulousness on her face. “No… no arts-and-crafts?” she asked, staring at Pacifica in shock.
“Ummm, no?” Pacifica said. “It’s not a big deal.”
Mabel jumped up, standing defiantly on her bed. “It is a big deal!” she exclaimed. “By the powers invested in me by the arts-and-crafts gods, I shall make sure you no longer go craft-deprived!”
“Alright, I’m out,” Dipper said, shutting his journal and moving towards the door, “I’ve learned the hard way to never be in the same room as Mabel when she starts referencing the arts and crafts gods.
“Oh, come on.” Pacifica said to Dipper’s retreating back. “She can’t be that bad, can she?”
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“You most definitely can be that bad.” Pacifica grumbled two hours later. She had glitter in her hair, sequins coating her arms and hands, and yarn in more places than she was comfortable with. The only thing that had kept her from quitting altogether was the giant grin this brought to Mabel’s face.
“Oh, come on, Paz! Admit it! You’re having fun.” Mabel giggled. Pacifica shot her a look.
“I will admit nothing of the sort. “Pacifica hissed. “I have been working for two hours and have yet to assemble a freaking bracelet.”
“You’ll get there, I promise.” Mabel said patiently. “Here,” she took Pacifica’s hands and gently guided her through the steps for what felt like the hundredth time. “Now you try.”
It took another thirty minutes of trial and error, but Pacifica finally created a rudimentary bracelet. When she was finished, Mabel squealed with joy.
“Oh my gosh, Paz! You did it! You did it! Your very first craft project!”
“Yeah…” Pacifica said, staring at the little bracelet she had made. She heard Mabel, in the background, making various plans for what Pacifica’s “next big art project” would be, but as she gazed at the simple little bracelet, she felt a small blossom of pride.
Maybe making things for herself wasn’t so useless, after all.