mabel girl

a compilation

10

Hey everyone! I’m a huuuuge GF fan and I wanna cosplay every single character from the show, but for now it’s just Giffany photoshoot I’ve made some time ago. Enjoy! 

photo by Eva

L͉̱̙̪̟̘e͉̥̙͜t͚̯̖ͅ ̖̭̣̼ḿ̫͈e̛͈͔͇͇ ̝̙̻̘̟͖͠b̪͚̗̳̮͞e͎͇̲͎ ̟̹͉͓̯̫ͅy̵̠͖̥̜ǫ͍̥͎̪u͏̩̫̮͈ŗ̗̝ ̦ͅg͚̠̥̕i͉͘r̹̫l̢̩̼f͏r̬͎̞͈̗̻i̸̳̹͍̟̤͕̤eṋ̝͔ͅḍ̺̝̪͎̭̠́,͠ͅ ̢͎̗̻̦h̞͘e͉̱̼h̡̹eh̩̬̯̘̞é̯̜̭h̘̫͕e̵̥̠̮̼̼͔̫~̝̫̜

Mabel Pines vs. The Laws of Narrative Causality

[Ao3]

Once upon a time there was a man who loved his family so much that he lost them, and then he lost himself.

Once upon a time there was a man who was so frightened to admit how much his family mattered to him that he refused to accept it until it was too late, and he spent the rest of his life regretting it.

Once upon a time there was a boy who loved mysteries until he grew into a man who dreaded them.

Once upon a time there was a girl, and then she turned into a woman and was never happy again.

This is the story you’re in, said a voice in her head. You chose this. You chose to leave your paradise and grow up. This is what growing up is. It’s losing people. It’s having your heart broken. It’s watching the things you love fall apart. This is what’s supposed to happen. It’s supposed to be poetic and tragic. This is how the world works.

They stood there in the clearing: the old man writing his own Greek tragedy in his head clinging to the man with nothing in his head at all. The boy whose head was full of conspiracy theories and bad ends.

And Mabel Pines.

She could feel the shape of the story building like a wave, trying to wash her and her family away with it. She could feel the tragedy trying to sink its fingers into them, trying to tell her that the old men would only ever be a cautionary tale, that she and her brother would only ever be a tragedy waiting to happen. It was the shape of every story they read at school, stories that were supposed to be important and serious but only ever felt sad.

(“Why don’t we read books where good things happen?” she’d demanded, and her teacher had smiled and said, “That’s just not realistic, dear.”)

She’d chosen reality. She should have known what that meant. She’d chosen the end of childhood, the end of innocence and happiness and hope. It was time to grow up. Time to accept what a realistic life looked like. Time to accept that you couldn’t save the world without losing something just as important. Time to—

No.

Here is a fact about Mabel Pines: she is selfish. She is the sort of selfish that makes her stand up against the things that try to break her and say: No. This is my family. This is my world. I will not let you take it from me.

The others all bent their heads, ready to be washed away by the unforgiving tide of the story, by the inevitability of it all, but Mabel Pines braced herself against the current and stood tall and let it break over her.

Mabel Pines ignored her uncle’s protests, ignored the hopeless look in his eyes, and picked up the book she’d made and started to read. The man who wasn’t her uncle anymore seemed frightened when she climbed into his lap, but she knew that she fit there, knew that the whole family fit together like a puzzle, like one of those sculptures where every piece balances the others so that if you remove one the whole thing falls apart. They’d been apart for so long, but they didn’t have to stay that way. They just needed to find the right way to slot together, and they were so close.

They were so close to a happy ending.

She knew the world was more selfish than she was. She knew she couldn’t fix everything. But she would fix this.

Mabel read. She read from a pink glittery scrapbook and she fought the story that was trying to catch her up in it. She battled back with her words and her stickers and her crooked photos and her love, weaving together hundreds of lace-weight threads into a net so strong that when the story got caught up in it instead of pulling her away it bucked and struggled and finally changed its course.

This is my reality, she told the universe. This is my story and my uncle, and you cannot have him.

And the universe reshaped itself around her.

It was only a matter of time before I wrote a filk inspired by The Last Mabelcorn. Don’t let the unicorns get you down.

Lyrics:

The unicorn smiled when she saw you approaching her fountain
“Just one little test” she demanded and shot you a grin
“Just prove that your heart is as pure as the dew on the snowdrops
You’ll foul my glade if you’re wicked and tainted with sin.”

CHORUS:
Don’t fall for the lies of those cruel unicorns
You’ve been messy and mortal since the day you were born
If you try to be perfect it’s just gonna tear you apart.
They want you to break yourself down till you shatter
They’ll say that you’re selfish for knowing you matter
So be brave and tenacious and loving and joyful and smart
              But forget pure of heart.

“My lady,” you said, “I can’t claim that my spirit is blameless,
But I try to do good and to help in the ways I know how
My heart’s filled with love for myself and the people around me
And I’ll strive to do more and be better and stronger, I vow!”

CHORUS

The unicorn scoffed and she drew back her head with a shudder.
“I knew it! You arrogant mortals have never been pure!
Perhaps if you’re humble enough you may gain some forgiveness
But you’ll never be perfect. You’re sullied, and I have no cure!”

CHORUS

“Well, what have you done then?” you said as you stood up and faced her
“Just sit in this glade telling people the things they can’t do.
There isn’t a deed or a person who’s ever been perfect
And I may not be pure but I’ve damn well done more good than you!”

CHORUS

If you’re careful you’ll notice that unicorns live all around us
You can tell by the smugly superior look in their eyes.
They’ll enumerate each of your flaws with distain in their voices.
They’ll all tell you you have to be perfect; they’ll all tell you lies!

Don’t fall for the lies of those cruel unicorns
We’ve been messy and mortal since the day we were born
If we try to be perfect it’s just gonna tear us apart.
I won’t let the world break me down till I shatter
I’d rather be selfish than think I don’t matter!
I’m brave and tenacious and loving and joyful and smart
               But I’m not pure of heart.

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