the first time i ever saw this was in person and yeesh

diesintheshower asked:

Can you do one where (y/n) is a new character on the show but the fans don’t really like her and that makes her sad.

This isn’t the greatest, but im proud of it. I hope you like it @diesintheshower i did my best.

If anyone wants to be tagged in future posts, or wants to send in requests my inbox is always open. <3

Originally posted by stayclassysupernatural

It was every Supernatural fans dream to be on Supernatural, even if it was just a small role. Everyone wanted to be on Supernatural, but for you that dream was a reality. But reality was no where as good as you had dreamed. 

When you were a kid you had acted in a few things, a commercial here a Disney show there. But they were always minor roles. So it came as a huge surprise when you auditioned for a small role on Supernatural, but instead they gave you a huge role instead. Instead of a one time role, you managed to get cast as a recurring character. They cast you as Sam’s daughter, that he had had fourteen years ago with someone, before he met Jess. 

The writers thought it would be a great idea, they wanted to bring a side of Sam out that they had never shown before. But the viewers didn’t like it as much as the writers thought they would. Just because the fans hated your character, apparently they also hated you.

Getting to film with Jared and Jensen and Misha was a whole new experience for you. These guys had been acting for longer than you had been alive, it was scary acting next to them because they were so good, and had so much experience. You learned after the first day they were anything but scary, they were big giant goof balls that loved to mess with each other. Your first episode would be airing tonight. Never in your mind would you have thought that the response you would get from the episode would be so negative.

After your last scene of the day Misha came up after and told you, 

“Since this is going to be your first episode tonight, we’re going to be having a party in Jensen’s trailer.” 

“Does Jensen know were having a party in his trailer? Last time you invited us to watch something in Jensen’s trailer he was asleep, and didn’t know we were coming over. My innocent eyes saw to much that night.” 

Misha snorted “Innocent eyes, you are the least innocent person here. You just try and act cute and harmless but I’m not stupid. I know the truth.” You batted your eyes at him, giving him puppy eyes. “Stop giving me that look, also yes Jensen does know that we are having a party in his trailer. He just doesn’t know that I’m ordering five pizzas off his credit cart.” Laughing you told him you would see him later tonight, and to make sure to order sausage pizza or you weren’t coming.

Because of the small roles you had been in the past you had a small following on social media. Before you headed off to Jensen’s trailer you tweeted a picture of you hugging Jared with the caption, “Pranking Jensen, laughing at Misha, the family business.” You posted it, plugged your phone in, because it was almost dead. Than left for Jensen’s trailer, excited to see your first episode. 

Opening the trailer door, you smelled pizza. You rushed inside to make sure you got some, knowing how fast these guys could eat. Scarfing down pizza you heard Jared laugh than say,

“Kid slow down, there is more than enough pizza here for all of us. And i don’t think Jensen would appreciate you puking all over his trailer, he has enough of that at home right now.”

You swallowed, looked up at Jared and than took as big of a bite as you could, mumbling, “fight me Jared,” around the food in your mouth.

Jared sighed, “kids these days.”

You took your shoe off than threw it at him, 

“Alright children please calm down the show is about to start, and i would like to watch it in peace.” 

You mouthed to Jared that it wasn’t over, before going back to your pizza when Jensen gave you a stern look. Hearing the show start you felt your nerves go away, you couldn’t wait to watch it.”

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Support Group for People Unfairly Maligned in Historical Fiction

Edward II: Greetings, everyone!  I’m Edward of Caernarfon, as you probably all know - do feel free to call me Ned - and I’m your moderator for this, the second meeting of all of us unfortunate historical folks maligned in fiction of the twenty-first century.  We’re here to share our pain, and to share the sillinesses perpetuated about us written hundreds of years after our deaths.  I’ll get us started.  As well as all the unfair and wildly untrue things about me I shared at our last meeting, there’s some new stuff.  According to one novelist, I react to things by ‘snivelling’ and am a coward who runs away from the battlefield of Bannockburn and is too afraid to fight, even though in reality I had to be dragged protesting from the field and fought 'like a lioness deprived of her cubs’ right in the thick of battle.

Piers Gaveston: Pretty damn sure I never saw you snivel, Ned.  I bet the terribly heterosexual manly hero Roger Mortimer doesn’t 'snivel’ in that novel, eh?

Edward II: Damn right, he doesn’t.  That same novel also accuses me of cowardice because I don’t beat up my wife, which was a real lolwut?? moment, I tell you.

Margaret Beaufort: May I have the floor, Ned?  I, apparently, am a religious maniac with a weirdly anachronistic Joan of Arc fetish - why? I mean, why?! - which I have to talk about every five minutes.  I mysteriously forget that I’m the countess of Richmond all the time.  But worst of all by far, I’m meant to have had Edward IV’s two sons murdered in the Tower of London so that my own son Henry Tudor could become king.  Because obviously I knew that Richard III’s son would conveniently die young a few months later and clear the path to the throne, and I could stroll in and out of the most fortified and well-guarded stronghold in the country and murder two princes without anyone noticing.  Yup.  Invisible Superwoman, that’s me.

Edward II: That’s awful, Margaret!  You mean people are willing to accuse you of the cold-blooded murder of children when there isn’t the tiniest shred of evidence whatsoever?

Margaret Beaufort: Indeed there are, plenty of them.  There are also people on modern social media who call me a 'snake’ and express a wish that I’d died in childbirth and my son with me.  I was thirteen at the time.  Yes, there really are people out there who wish a thirteen-year-old had suffered a painful death in childbirth.  It seems that they forget we were human beings with feelings too.

George, duke of Clarence: Hey, everyone!  Talking about blatant ways of making us appear really unlikeable and horrible, I’d like to protest at the way novelists in the twenty-first century portray me as this ridiculously one-dimensional alcoholic wife-beater.  That’s all there ever was to me, apparently.  Alcoholism.  And wife-beating.  I never even laid a finger on Isabel!

Henry VII: There’s this one novel where my mother Margaret Beaufort - who just hasn’t been maligned enough, apparently - tells me to rape my fiancée Elizabeth of York before we marry to make sure that she can become pregnant.  If she can’t, I’m to marry her sister Cecily instead.  Still trying to figure that one out - am I supposed to go through all the sisters until I find one who gets pregnant and then marry her?  Just so darn weird.

Elizabeth of York: Wait, let me see that one!  Oh yeah, I remember now, the novel where I spend half the time mooning over my lost uncle Richard III, who I was totally in love with, allegedly, and refer to constantly as 'my lover’.  My uncle.  There is not enough eeeewwwww in my vocabulary.

Henry VII: I’m depicted as this pathetic little mummy’s boy half the time.  And I’ve been trying to block the horror of it out of my mind, but there’s another novel that has me - get this, folks - drinking the blood of young men.  Like wuuuuuuh?

Elizabeth of York: I don’t know.

Edward II: You don’t know what?

Elizabeth of York: I don’t know what I don’t know.  I don’t know anything.  Say anything to me and I’ll reply that I don’t know.

Elizabeth Woodville: Hey, everyone, did you know I’m a witch?  Witch witch witch.  Who makes witchy things happen all the witching time.  Because I’m a witch.  A witchy witch who does lots of witchy things.  On every witchy page of the witchy novel about how I’m a witch.

Anne Neville: I’m getting pretty annoyed with the way I’m almost always depicted as terribly frail, to the point where I faint or collapse about every five minutes.  Yes, I died young, but that doesn’t mean I’d been a permanent invalid all my life, people!  Yeesh, it’d be great to have someone write me as though I had an actual backbone and some personality, instead of as this weak feeble fainting little…thing.

Edward of Lancaster: True, and it’d be nice if someone would acknowledge that you didn’t necessarily spend your entire marriage to me weeping and wailing over Richard of Gloucester.

Anne Neville: I did a little bit at first maybe, just a tiny little bit, but I soon got used to the idea of being queen of England one day.  That was pretty cool.  Something else modern novelists never seem to realise about me is that maybe I had a bit of ambition and quite fancied being a queen!

Edward of Lancaster: Yeah, we kind of got used to being married to each other and didn’t mind it at all, did we?  And you know, it’s so unfair when a throwaway bravado comment you make when you’re still practically a child is then used for the next half a millennium as though it represents the sum total of your personality and is constantly used to present you as a sadistic murderous psychopath.  Modern people, would you like it if someone took one of your sulky adolescent pronouncements as though it’s representative of your entire life and attitudes?

Henry VI: And when one remark by one visitor to England, simply reporting a rumour he had heard that I supposedly said that my son Edward was fathered by the Holy Ghost, is taken that my son absolutely must have been fathered by someone else other than me.  As though my wife Margaret of Anjou isn’t maligned enough!

Margaret of Anjou: Oh, you mean I actually have a name?  Like seriously?  I thought I was just called 'the bad queen’.  Voice dripping with sarcasm here.

Elizabeth of York: I don’t know.

Edward II: Afraid we’re running out of time and will have to wrap this up now, folks!  Hope you all feel somewhat better after getting this rubbish off your chests, and take care until the next meeting of the Support Group for People Maligned in Historical Fiction!  Goodnight!

- Kathryn Warner from her blog (excepts about the Wars of The Roses historical fiction)

Starry Night (Trollhunters Fanfic)

A commission for @approachingdark​! She wanted a fic with an upset reader who was comforted by Draal and Arrrgh. I just wanted to take a moment and also thank her for being super patient, and for being my first customer! I hope you like it! <3

under a readmore b/c its….kinda long


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Long Time No See

Originally posted by superherofeed

Originally posted by lovepeacexxoo

Request: Can you do one with heath joker where you were together before he started doing crime but you left him because you were an up and coming criminal in Gotham and you reunite with the joker ik its confusing


Warnings:Blood, Violence


Jack and Y/N were high school sweethearts, they had been together since sophomore year. It way no surprise when Jack proposed to Y/N when she turned 21, they never got married though. Y/N had to leave her lover for his own safety, she was becoming a well known criminal in Gotham City and didn’t want him getting hurt. When she told him she had to leave he was begging her to stay, he didn’t understand why she had to leave. He thought they would be together for the rest of their lives, he couldn’t handle life without her. Every time he looked in the mirror he always saw his reflection frowning back at him. So he decided to fix it by taking a knife to his face, now he was always smiling. He eventually ended up getting involved with criminals and moved to Gotham where he took on the persona of the Joker.

He now sat in a holding cell waiting for Batman to talk to him, he listened to the police officers conversation.

“Look what I got.” The hefty man said while tossing a small object towards the thinner, more lanky officer.

“What is it?” The lanky man asks.

“Lilith’s knife.” The bigger officer smiles, Joker tries to look at the weapon, Lilith was a notorious criminal. She got her name from her eerie appearance, her dyed black hair framed her face beautifully. Her dark eye makeup that comes to a perfect point on the ends and inner corners of her eyes, she always was out in the evening and night just like the mythological figure Lilith. She was known for the damage she caused in the city and the fear she struck in the citizens of Gotham.

“Is this really it?” The skinny officer asks as he flicks the knife open, the sharp black blades open on both ends.

“Yeah it’s awesome right?” The hefty officer laughs and grabs it from the man.

“Yeah but I thought we weren’t supposed to touch evidence?” The lanky man says nervously, the hefty officer snorts.

“Ehh what’s the worse that can happen right?” He pats the other officer harshly on the back causing him to stumble forwards.

“We could get fired.” The man says.

“Only if they find out.” The hefty officer says inspecting the weapon closely.

“Now didn’t your mom teach you not to touch things that aren’t yours?” A voice rings out, the Joker’s head snaps towards the voice, he knew that voice. His eyes met with a figure wearing all black. It was Lilith, he never saw her in person but he saw her on the news when he would watch it. The officer gripped the knife and one hand went to his gun, the lanky officer pulled out his pistol.

“Hand it over.” Lilith said holding her hand out like she was trying to get something from a child. The two officers pointed their guns at her, she took a step forward and  the hefty officer shot at her. He had missed do to his shaking hands, Lilith’s eyes darkened.

“Wrong move buddy.” She said darkly as her henchmen that were all disguised as officers started shooting the actual policemen. Lilith slowly walked towards the hefty officer with a grin on her painted black lips. When she reached the man she held out her hand once again.

“I’m not going to ask again.” She said wickedly, the man gulped before handing her the knife. She smiled before plunging it into his neck, she stepped back as the blood poured from his neck. She turned around to see that all of the GCPD were either on the floor or ran away.

“Well, this is uh, interesting.” She smiles looking at all of the criminals in the holding cells, her eyes finally land on Joker’s and her heart skips a beat. She knew those eyes, but she didn’t want to believe it.

“Let’s play a game, tell me why you’re here and if I like it you get a get out of jail free card. Okay? Okay.” She says pacing forward, the first cell held a woman who had tan skin and bleach blonde hair and was crying.

“What’d you do Blondie?” She asked twirling her knife, the girl didn’t answer as she sobbed.

“I don’t have all day.” Lilith said tapping her knife on the bars.

“P-prostitution.” The woman stuttered, Lilith stood still for a minute.

“Ehh whatever.” She said sliding the key that she previously picked up into the lock, when she opened the door the woman ran out crying.

“Yeesh you’d think she would be more grateful.” Lilith said as she continued forward.

“Cannibalism.” The man said as she looked at him.

“Yeah, no thanks.” She say continuing on as the man pounds on the bars behind her. She continues on until she reaches the Joker.

“What’d you do Smiley?” The Joker stared at her for a minute before talking.

“What-ah didn’t I do Doll?” He smiles, Lilith stares at him, ‘That couldn’t be him.’ she says to herself.

“Good point.” She says unlocking the cell, Joker stands up slowly.

“I know-ah, Giggles.” He says, if this was Y/N then he would know. He always called her Giggles when they were together because that’s all she would ever do. Lilith’s smirk dropped as she gripped the cell door.

“What’d you call me?” She asks narrowing her eyes. The Joker smiled.

“Giggles, you know like the laugh.” Joker says sarcastically.

“Why?” Lilith asks.

“Because that’s all you ever do, you giggle.” Joker says, this may actually be her.

“Jack?” She says softly, Joker smiles.

“Long time no see Y/N.” He says with genuine happiness in his words. Y/N leaped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her hair.

“I can’t believe it’s you.” Y/N cried quietly.

“Better believe it.” Joker felt the tears prick at his eyes, Y/N pulled back. She had white face paint smudged on her cheek and her black eye makeup was running down her face. No one could see her as Joker was blocking them, Joker looked down at her.

“What happened?” She asks quietly as she ran her thumbs across his scars.

“I couldn’t handle being without you.” He said simply.

“I’m so sorry.” She cries.

“No no, it’s okay, look at what we’ve become.” He smiles looking down at her.

“Are we still engaged?” She laughs.

“Of course.” He says before pulling her in for a kiss as the police sirens blared in the background. They finally had each other and they were ready to cause hell.

yeesh, i’m sorry. never meant to set this up as a Zen-worshipping blog, but here we are… i need to get all of these lovey-dovey feelings for him out of my head T_T so here’s some more Zen… and his hair

Before the two of you had started living together, you’d never really had the chance to appreciate Zen’s hair. You knew it was long, sure, and you had kind of guessed - since the hair was attached to his head - that it was well-cared for. Even when you first saw him, in person, you hadn’t realised just how ridiculously gorgeous his hair was. Also, how ridiculously long it was. He wasn’t a short guy, and his silvery strands fell all the way to his waist, even brushing what you now knew was an equally gorgeous backside.

Zen never really spoke about his hair much - he was always more focused on his body and his face. But honestly, the fact that his shower - and bathroom cabinets - could be mistaken for a women’s spoke for him. They were lined with products that you were fairly sure he imported, products that you knew cost more than you earned in a week; he could have opened a shop with the stock of clips, hair ties, and brushes he kept in the baskets below his sink. He never really spoke about his hair, but oh boy, did he take care of it. Which would explain why it was so silky smooth. And soft. And so, so much fun to play with.

“Hey, ____?”


“What are you doing?”

It was rarely that Zen actually had his hair down - even when the two of you were relaxing, at home, he kept it swept up in his usual style. Only when the two of you were in bed, bearing all to one another, did he let his hair free. It was one of your favourite times of the day - no matter the activities that took place in your bedroom, his hair was always immaculate, and the perfect comfort for you, especially at the end of a long day.

“Playing with your hair.”

“Yeah-huh, I can feel that.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he leaned back into your touch. “You’re the only one who ever gets to see my hair like this, you know?” You hummed in affirmation, moving your attention back up to his scalp. “Oh… That feels good…” Glancing over his shoulder, you saw Zen with his eyes closed, smiling as you massaged him. A while passed as you continued the movements, methodically pressing and rubbing.

“Why is that?”

“Huh?” You were sure he would have fallen asleep, had you not spoken.

“Why do you never wear your hair down? It’s lovely…” He groaned as your thumbs moved to press into his neck - he was always bent over a script, or his phone, or working out - the knots in his body were unbelievable, and you had no complaints about being the one to work them out.

“Honestly?” He sat up, allowing you greater access to his back. “It’s just too long. I like it this length - it makes me look even more unique,” you smiled to yourself - no one else could say that about themselves so casually. “but it would get in the way if I wore it down every day. Besides,” he glanced over his shoulder at you. “if I wore it down around others, then it wouldn’t be so special for you. I prefer it this way, and I think you do, too.”

“Makes sense, I guess-”

“Oh, and it’s super sensitive.”

“… What?”

“Yeah.” He turned around fully, now. “Like, if it gets caught on anything, or pulled. It’s… Not something I want happening in public.” A slight flush spread across his pale skin, and he laughed sheepishly at your confused gaze. “It’s kind of hard to explain, to be honest. I like you playing with it, because… You’re you… But I don’t want anyone else touching it. Y'know?”

“When you say sensitive-”




You couldn’t stop your mischievous grin. “So…” Zen was looking visibly panicked now - he seemed to have just realised exactly what he had revealed to you. “If I were to… Pull on it…”

“Ah… That’s for you to find out another time, my love.”

“Aw, come on.”

“We’ve already done it once tonight!” He was now visibly flustered, slowly shuffling away from you on the bed. You relented, holding up your hands.

“Alright, but no promises.” You loved this - finding out new things about the person you had fallen in love with. Every small thing you learned made you love him all the more, made you want to find out more, and, above all, made you grateful that you had even met this strange, lovely person.

“… But I wouldn’t mind you continuing that massage…”

Chuckling at his admission, you gestured for him to turn back around. That same waterfall of silver hair returned to your gaze - you were grateful that Zen only ever wore his hair down around you, really. He was almost ethereal, bathed in the moonlight streaming through the still-open balcony doors, all pale skin, crimson eyes, and white hair. Knowing this was a sight only you would ever get to see, you realised that Zen was quite right: You definitely preferred things this way.

yeesh, i’m sorry. never meant to set this up as a Zen-worshipping blog, but here we are… i need to get all of these lovey-dovey feelings for him out of my head T_T so here’s some more Zen… and his hair

Before the two of you had started living together, you’d never really had the chance to appreciate Zen’s hair. You knew it was long, sure, and you had kind of guessed - since the hair was attached to his head - that it was well-cared for. 

Keep reading


One-Shot: Can I have a one-shot where Owen Grady (aka Chris Pratt) introduces you to the raptors and some of them try to hurt you and yeah if that makes sense:)
Annoucement: I hope you like it!
Warnings: None

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath of ocean air. It wasn’t a long boat drive to the Isla Nublar, but it sure was refreshing. You were barely containing your excitement though, to be honest this may be the best day ever. You were visiting your partner, Owen Grady, and he said he was finally going to show you his Raptor girls. That’s right, actually Velociraptors. You had been nervous about him taking the job at first, seeing as how 22 years earlier Raptors had contributed to the events at Jurassic Park, but eventually you had learned to accept it.

Getting off the boat and swaying a little bit from just getting back on land, you looked around through the crowed of families and friends.

All of a sudden there was a jabbing, tickling feeling on your sides, “RAPTOR ATTACK!”

Apart from it tickling a bit, it scared the hell out of you and made you jump about five feet into the air, “AHHH!”

Some people within earshot of you gave you odd looks as you whipped around and found yourself immediately faced with stunning green eyes. You smiled and smacked Owen on the arm.

He pretended to be shocked and hurt, “What on Earth was that for?”

“You know what for,” you said, “And, by the way… Raptor attack? Really?”

He took you by the arm and the both of you started making your way off of the dock, “Ah, well, just trying to get you in the mood.”

Hopping into his jeep you chuckled nervously, “Yeah, right. I hope they like me.”

Owen smiled and looked over at you, “Of course they will, I’m the Alpha, they’ll think of you as my mate and respect you too.”

“Alpha, huh? I bet you use that one on all the girls.”

He started the car, “Only you, hun bun.”

The rest of the ride was filled with small talk and the general catching up. You were studying back in America so you kind of had to keep this a long distance relationship which wasn’t always easy, but you managed. And besides, you were almost done anyways, you were really trying to push for a job on the island so you could be near Owen but that was a worry for another day.

Soon, the bumpy car ride to the enclosure was over and the two of you hopped out of the car, “Yeesh, it is mildly warm out here,” you said sarcastically, taking off your top shirt to reveal your tank top.

“Are you trying to impress me, or the dinosaurs,” Owen commented.

“Well, I just want to make a good impression,” you retorted.
You followed him a short distance and to something that looked like a viewing area of some sort, both sides closed off by safety fences.

“Here,” Owen said, “Just stand here and watch.”

“I think I can handle that,” you said, feeling the excitement kick your pulse up a few notches.

He signaled someone and all of sudden a tiny pig came squealing in through the opening in the enclosure. It disappeared in a hole in the wall and a panel slammed down behind it, keeping it from being eaten by the four beings that came streaking in behind it. Their sleek reptilian bodies moved around the arena, hissing at the people up on the catwalk above and nipping playfully at each other. They eventually saw you and Owen in the safety cage and slinked over. Your eyes were wide, this was the first time that you had been able to see the Raptors, and they were magnificent. They came closer to the gate that separated you from them, staring at each other in the eyes.

“This one it Blue,” Owen said, pointing to the one closest to the fence, “That one is Echo, there’s Charlie, and over there is Delta.”

“Awesome,” you whispered with a slightly open mouth.

All of a sudden, Blue, jumped forward towards the cage, making you jump back, just barely missing the her claws as she stuck her arm though an opening.

“Ahh!” You yelped.

Owen pushed you back to a safer distance, “Hey! No, Blue! No! Back, stay back!”

The Raptor looked at Owen and slid her arm out of the door quietly. The others had stayed back, and started hissing at you.

“Was it something I said?” you asked shakily.

He frowned and helped you up off of the ground, “No, I don’t know. Maybe they just didn’t sense that you were my mate?” He looked back in the cage, “I don’t know. Are you ok? Any scratches? Anything?”

You shook your head, “I don’t know either, maybe we need to kiss in front of them next time. Show then whose boss.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “Ooh, scandalous. What would the people think?”

“Who cares?” and pecked him on the lips.

A near mauling by your boyfriends Raptors can really make a person crave physical contact.

theriddlerontheroof-deactivated  asked:

An AU where most of the stuff is the same but a lot is different where Mabel and Pacifica are the ones to fight the ghost in "Northwest Mansion Noir" rather than Dipper and Pacifica. And they may or may not (and by may not I mean definitely) kiss at the end.

So, I loved this idea. I basically wrote you a majority of the episode, except Dipper isn’t there. AUs are AUs and this one was pretty cute so here goes. Mabifica ftw~ (PS IT’S A BIT LONG) ( 3287words)

           ~~~~~~~———————- Gravity Falls ——————-~~~~~~~

“I smell a Northwest.”

Mabel pressed herself against the wooden floor beneath the table and tightly shut her eyes. The only reason she and Pacifica were even hiding was because moments prior, the mounts on the wall had begun to leak blood and started to say “Ancient sins” in a creepy distorted voice. Not only that, but when they’d stepped away, a furious voice had boomed through the room before a figure had begun to manifest in the center.

Of course, Dipper just had to watch his stupid television marathon and the Northwests just happened to have some ghost haunting them on the same day. Mabel thought to herself and fought the urge to bang her head on the floor.

The brunette sighed, but opened an eye when she felt something squeeze her hand. Pacifica, the person who had dragged her into this situation, was staring ahead, her eyes wide with fear. Mabel squeezed her hand back and offered an encouraging smile, the blonde turned to her, her blue eyes now narrowed with frustration.

“Don’t you have something to fix this?” She hissed.

Mabel opened her mouth to retort, but at that moment the ghost spoke again.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

The giant lumberjack ghost bellowed in anger once more. He was hovering in the area in front of them, and for a second, Mabel thought he’d go away. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw his feet turn away from them, but a horrible splintering noise from above caught her attention.

The brunette released Pacifica’s hand and pushed her away. An axe pierced through the table and collided into the ground where she had been seconds prior.

“Fulfill your debt!” The lumberjack roared.

“This way, hurry!” Pacifica shouted and led the two out of the room.

As they ran to who knows where, Mabel began trying to think of various solutions to their predicament.

What would Dipper do? She thought as Pacifica turned a corner. Ah, he’d consult the book! But that’s in my bag… We need to stop somewhere.

The two of them ran through a small garden and Mabel could have sworn that the blonde had told her to watch out for peacocks, but she was too busy trying to reach her backpack to properly pay attention.

Mabel felt her feet sink into the muddy path, but trudged on regardless; she had managed to tug the journal she’d stolen from her brother out and was too busy trying to read it to care.

“Pacifica!” Mabel shouted, the blonde stopped running, there was one room in front of them. “We need to hide out somewhere so I can try to figure out what the heck to do!”

Mabel hastily flipped through the journal, she could hear the angry ghost’s moans growing closer.

“Is there any way you could look through that quicker?” Pacifica’s annoyed voice stopped her mid-page.

Mabel turned her head and looked at the room beside it. Everything in it was extremely clean and way too white. “Well, we have to find somewhere a ghost won’t just jump us! Come on, let’s try here!”

The brunette had launched herself into the room when she felt a hand clamp itself onto her arm and tug her back.  ”What the heck, Pacifica?”

“I can’t have you go in there! That room’s got my parent’s favorite carpet pattern! If we track mud, they’re going to kill us even more than that ghost could!” She hissed back.

Mabel rolled her eyes, obviously they were at a dead end and that was the best place to try to hide. “Come on, we can clean it up before they get a chance to find out!”

The brunette took another step toward the room, but Pacifica grabbed onto the book in her arms.

“No, we’re not risking it!”

Mabel turned to her and began to tug it back. If something happened to the book, she knew that Dipper would be even more furious than he’d already since she stole it.

“Seriously, Pacifica? Why are you so afraid of your parents?”

“You wouldn’t understand!” Pacifica screamed just as Mabel tripped and fell onto her.

She had been positive that they had crashed into a wall, but she felt a lot less pain than she thought she would. That led Mabel to realize that they’d probably fallen through the painting and into another room.

When she finally stabilized herself to take in her surroundings, she saw that she wasn’t in the hall anymore. She wiped dust off of her arms and retrieved the fallen journal. Wearing a dress at a time like this definitely didn’t do any good for her.

“Okay, yeesh, a warning would have been okay,” she grumbled and stood up.

Mabel opened up the journal to the page she had left off on and groaned. Dipper spent his whole summer reading this thing, why couldn’t he have come instead? Maybe she could have attended the party downstairs and been enjoying herself with Candy and Grenda.

When she got to the pages in the back regarding the ghosts, she pulled the small Black-light her brother stored with his belongings out and sought any hidden tips.

Her heart sank when she read that it said “Pray for Mercy”.

“So, uh, what’s this room for?” Mabel asked, she wanted to distract the blonde in hopes of figuring out some other message. The bottle of anointed water her brother had given her had been one of the first items to go when the ghost had first appeared.

“That’s weird. I don’t even know what this room is,” Pacifica said and walked in front of a covered tapestry.

“Hopefully the ghost doesn’t either,” Mabel added with a sigh of relief. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes bugged out when she saw the sheets covering the painting begin to rise. “Pacifica!”

The blonde turned just as the lumberjack ghost reappeared again.


The two girls scrambled out of the way as he slammed his giant axe into the ground. Just as the ghost pulled it out of the wooden floorboard, Mabel remembered some trivia her brother had spouted at her in preparation for his Ghost Harassers marathon.

~’This show is great, Mabel. I’ve learned so much from it in the past years!  If I ever face a ghost, remind me to keep a silver mirror handy.

In response to her asking why, Dipper had rolled his eyes and scoffed. ‘Duh, obviously you haven’t watched enough Ghost Harassers to know you can trap ghosts with them. Maybe you should marathon it with it me instead of hanging out with Candy and Grenda. It’s a lot more informative than learning about the hottest boy bands and their favorite colors or whatever.”~

Mabel frowned at the recollection and crossed her arms. Just because her brother was knowledgeable in things that she wasn’t, didn’t mean that they were useless! A day would definitely come when she’d have to let someone know that Chandler’s favorite color was sunset yellow.

“Mabel, help!”

But obviously that day wasn’t today.

The brunette scoured the room and she let out an audible sigh when she spotted a mirror lying in the pile of rubble where they’d fallen through. Mabel sprinted toward it and shouted, “Paz, hold on!”

“PREPARE TO DIE.” The ghost bellowed and raised his axe once more.

Mabel stumbled her way over to Pacifica and held out the mirror.  The ghost’s axe weighed down on it and there was an agonized shout before two things happened.

One, the ghost disappeared and was sucked into the mirror. The second was that the force of the blow was powerful enough to knock them back into the window behind them and send them flying through.

Mabel rolled down the hill outside the window and found herself rolling to a stop at the base. She moaned in pain and rubbed at side.

“Did you get him?” Pacifica asked.

The two looked down at the mirror in her hands, the lumberjack banged against the glass.


The two girls eyed each other warily. Mabel let out a relieved laugh before Pacifica joined in. Mabel stood up before reaching over to help the blonde up.

Pacifica quietly stared down at the fuming man in the mirror before looking up to meet her eyes

“Don’t worry, he’s not going to hurt you in there,” Mabel commented, a cheery grin made its way onto her cheeks.

The blonde stared at her blankly for a few seconds and before she had a chance to say anything further, Pacifica had launched herself at her. Mabel stood still for a few seconds before returning the tight hug with light pats on the back.

“I can’t believe we did it!” Pacifica laughed and Mabel just nodded, not positive what to say while in her bear hug.

Pacifica’s arms tightened around her momentarily before the blonde pulled away and coughed into her hand. “Um, can I pay you to pretend that didn’t just happen?”

              ~~~~~~~———————- Gravity Falls ——————-~~~~~~~

Stupid Pacifica and her probably fake blonde hair and her stupid parents.

Mabel sighed and wrapped her arms around her knees. She was sitting outside Northwest manor after her hosts had graciously kicked her out. By getting rid of the ghost, she thought she’d done a good deed, but apparently even her ‘friend’ was in on it and had manipulated her so they could pretend nothing bad was happening.

The brunette stared down at her ripped sea-foam green dress, her stomach sank as she recalled the adventure she’d just been on. It had really seemed like they’d been getting along well too.

“Well, I guess it’s time to banish you. Better finish this stupid job up, maybe Dippinsauce will let me wallow in misery during his marathon,” Mabel sighed.

She adjusted the mirror and watched the lumberjack ghost turn to her. “Very well, lass. Then before you banish me, may these tired lumber eyes gaze upon the tree one final time?”

“Eh, knock yourself out, buddy,” Mabel replied.

The brunette lifted the mirror from the tree stump and turned it toward the tree. The lumberjack burst into a fit of laughter, Mabel eyed the mirror in confusion before she saw it glow red and she dropped it from how hot it had gotten. When the mirror dropped onto a tree root and shattered, Mabel’s jaw dropped and she winced at her mistake.

Dipper would definitely have been smart enough to not listen to a ghost’s final wishes.

The ghost reformed from the glass shards of the mirror and immediately hovered toward the manor.

“Yes, YES. VENGEANCE!” He boomed and there was a flash of lightning.

“Oh no, Grenda! Candy!” Mabel gasped and sprinted back towards the home.

The rain that pelted against her weighed her dress down and she paused momentarily to rip a layer off. It had been a sacrifice of a cute dress, but she didn’t want her friends dealing with a crazed lumberjack ghost.

Just as she burst into the manor, Mabel watched the mayhem that was occurring inside. There was a man hiding under a table who was being attacked by a wooden bear and and an ostrich was chasing some guests around.

“Please!” Mabel glanced down at a man who was crawling toward her, his feet were turning to wood and it was rapidly progressing through his body. “Help…me.”

“Okaaay, then, that was definitely not okay, ha…ha,” Mabel nervously laughed to herself and backed away from the wooden man.

“Hahaha, just one way to change your fates. A Northwest must open the party gates.”

Mabel glanced upward and saw the lumberjack ghost hovering above.

“Northwest? Wait, Pacifica!” Mabel gasped aloud. She turned to the right and saw the painting that they’d fallen through earlier.

Wasting no time in making her way over and stumbling through, she called out,

“Paz!” She turned and found the girl sitting on the floor, a flashlight flickering on and off in her hands.

“There you are! The ghost- he- wood and then rhymes!” Mabel lifted her hands in exaggeration before shaking her head and trying again. “The ghost’s turning people to wood, and while it’s pretty cool, he’s rhyming now!

She reached over to grab her hand and snap her out of her stupor. Mabel gently tugged at it and pointed toward the entrance of the room. “I need your help!”

The blonde ripped her hand out of her grip before she met her eyes. It didn’t last long though because she closed them again and turned her head back to the floor.

“Paz…?”  Mabel whispered, she was about to question her further, but the blonde had spoken up again.

“Do you wanna know why this room was locked up?” The flashlight tilted upward and highlighted the area that had been covered in a sheet earlier on. A group of paintings stood in its place, each one depicting a scene of deceit. “This is what I found in here, a painted record of every horrible thing that my family’s ever done.”

Mabel turned to watch the blonde, her face had a dejected expression as she continued speaking.

“Lying, cheating, and then there’s me,” Pacifica said, she pointed the flashlight onto her face before letting it flicker off. “I lied to you just because I’m too scared to talk back to my stupid parents.”

The blonde removed her earrings and chucked them at a painting of them in the far edge of the room.  

“You were right about me. I’m just as bad as the rest of the Northwests,” she murmured and turned to her again, her eyes were wide and just so sad that Mabel wished she could give her another hug.

“Look… Paz. I’m sorry that I said those things, but just cuz you’re related to them, doesn’t mean that you are your parents. I mean, look at me and Dipper, we’re nothing like Grunkle Stan!” Mabel said encouragingly before placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not too late to fix things.”

Pacifica weakly smiled at her and Mabel felt her own grow in turn.


Mabel let her hand drop from Pacifica’s arm and immediately turned around. “OH NO!”

The two of them left the room and screamed at what they saw. The room was covered in vines and everyone had been turned into wooden statues. Mabel’s stomach tightened when she spotted Candy and Grenda by the juice table, their faces contorted with horror.

The ghost was standing in front of the fireplace. His back was to them, but Mabel could feel the arrogance emanating off of him.

She tightened her grip on the journal and sprinted toward the center of the room.

“Mabel, wait!” She heard Pacifica call out, but she continued running.

The brunette jumped onto a table with a silver platter on it and readied herself. “Alright, ghost. You don’t get to turn my friends to stone and just get away with it.”

Mabel picked the platter up and opened the journal with her free hand. “Prepare to get-”

A blue ray shot at her hand and the journal went flying.

“Well, that didn’t work out so well,” Mabel mumbled to herself, but then she felt something warm smash into her body. When she peered down, she saw that her feet had started the process of turning into wood. “Uh oh. No, no, no, no!”

Well, now you’ve gone and done it Mabel. You should have brought Dipper. He would know what to do, but nooo, you just had to let him stay at home because you said you could do it yourself.

Before the wood completely engulfed her, Mabel let out a quiet plea.

“Dipper, save me!”

Then everything went dark.

           ~~~~~~~———————- Gravity Falls ——————-~~~~~~~

When Mabel woke up, she was lying on the table.

The room was filled with warmth and a lot louder than it had been before. She climbed off of it and went to grab the journal from the floor.

“OH, I don’t have a phone.” She heard Grenda’s voice in the distance and turned to see her friend chatting with some fancy looking guy. “BUT YOU CAN WRITE IT ON MY FOREHEAD!”

Candy’s eyes met her own before the girl flashed her a thumbs-up. Mabel smiled to herself, she was happy that the night had turned out well for someone at least.

“Hey, Mabel?”

At the sound of the timid voice, she turned and saw Pacifica standing there.

“Oh, hey! You did it Paz, I’m proud of you!” The brunette laughed and placed her hand on the blonde’s shoulder.

Pacifica seemed to beam at her before a light blush dotted her cheeks and she coughed awkwardly. Mabel let her hand drop and took a step back. Her eyes averted to the floor beneath them and she snorted with laughter.

“Hey, look, at that.”

Pacifica’s blue eyes turned down and the two noted that they were on ‘her parent’s favorite carpet pattern.’ The blonde let out a bright laugh and stomped her foot down on the pristine carpet. Mabel laughed along and imitated her.

“Ah, this is totally great and all, but unfortunately things are going to go back to the way they were last year,” Pacifica said, she reached over and grabbed a bowl of cider and threw it at the floor.

“Eh, better enjoy it while you can, I guess!” Mabel stated, she reached over and purposefully knocked into one of the waiter’s arms. “Oops, I’m just making a big old mess, aren’t I, Paz?”

She heard Pacifica giggle when the tray of cakes crashed into the floor. The blonde smirked at her and replied in a teasing tone. “Who gave you permission to call me that?”

Mabel paused, her mouth formed a small o, and she took a step back. “U-uh, I’m sorry! I’ve been calling you it for like half the night and you didn’t say anything so I-“

"Mabel, calm down, it’s okay!” Pacifica laughed, she placed a hand on her arm and smiled. “I kind of like it anyway.”

Mabel turned to grin at her before she felt something warm press against her cheek.

Any words she wanted to say got caught in her throat was Pacifica pulled away. The blonde took a step back and pointed her thumb toward a doorway.

“Um, I’m gonna go find someone to clean this up. I’ll… see you later?”

Mabel gawked at her momentarily and stiffly nodded her head. As she watched Pacifica retreat, the situation finally sunk in.

Pacifica had kissed her. Well, it was on the cheek, but it was still a kiss!

Mabel felt blood rush to her already rosy cheeks before she felt a hand wrap around her arm.

“MABEL, WHERE’S YOUR BROTHER?!” Old Man McGucket had some sort of weird contraption on his eye and was looking around wildly. He didn’t give her a chance to answer and shook her violently. “I fixed the laptop! And there’s a timer, the apocalypse is coming!”

“Oh, he’s - uh, at the Shack actually,” Mabel answered, the old man let her go and sprinted out the door.

The brunette maneuvered her way over to her friends, she didn’t think too much on what the old man had said and decided to enjoy herself.

Everything’s gonna back to the way there were before, next year, huh?

Mabel turned away from Candy and Grenda to seek out Pacifica. The blonde, who had apparently been staring at her already, blushed and looked away. When her blue eyes peered back, Mabel waved at and giggled.

Well, maybe not everything.