#summary of my encanto year

[naoko-world]

1 year of Encanto: A summary!

I posted many things during this anniversary but I wanted to finish on a summary of this year for me related to Encanto!

November 24th

Off to the cinema with my best friend to watch Encanto, thinking it'll be shit at worst, or correct at best. First thing I posted about it when going out: "I just saw Encanto. It was very cool, with good songs and an old-fashioned but well-done story."

From that point I started listening to the songs everyday.

November 26th

I make my first analysis of the movie on a Discord server about Disney to say Bruno represent well the topic of the movie, what it is about.

December 18th

I realized I may have a crush on Bruno after spending two weeks downloading a lot of pictures and fanarts of him.

November 25th-December 26th

Harassing my best friend from Quebec into watching Encanto.

December 31st

Rewatching Encanto. I held a bit more than 1 month.

January 8th

I discover that fanfic on Wattpad making me discover Bruno x Reader fanfics can be actually be good with an interesting reader.

December-January-February

I slowly become active on Tumblr once again, attracted by Encanto posts. First I only check posts, then I started reblogging, before posting myself some things. My first reblog was about the triplets looking like their age, while my first post was about Bruno's fangirl, to say I already posted 4 chapters of it.

Around January

I probably I starts making memes and edits.

January 18th

I draw my first Encanto fanart, a drawing of Bruno.

January 23rd

After dreaming it for weeks and hesitating a lot to write it, I post my first Encanto fanfiction in french, then in english the day after after spending the day translating by hand and having it checked by my friend from Quebec before of how insecure I was about my english level.

February 14th

I spend my day reading Bruno Madrigal/reader fics and ends up getting depressed because I read one that gets me depressed when I compare mine to hers.

Probably around February

I become friend with @omgcheez make my first Encanto friend outside of this Discord server, and he becomes one of the persons I hold the most dear 💚

March 3rd

I write a dissertation about Bruno in French I decide to translate in english for Tumblr and will finally post on October 17th.

March 11th

I receive my Bruno ruana after ordering it on a cosplay website someone told me about! The first of a long collection of dolls, posters, cosplays, etc.

March 19th

I post my first Jared Bush tweet, about the triplets birthday!

March 26th

I post my first analysis, a short one comparing Bruno and Evil!Bruno!

March 28th

This Encanto animatic 💚

March 31st

This shot progression of the chase scene. 💚

April 10th

I decide to create my fanfic materlist and it encourages me to write my first Encanto drabble I posted on April 14th.

April 17th

I post for the first time one of the tweets of the account Best of Bruno on Twitter, after asking for permission of course.

April 22nd

I post for the first time some screenshots I took of Bruno.

April 25th

I gets a heart attack because a blog I loved a lot reblogged a ficlet of mine and I'm like "I'm not worthy!!!" (watching you @neon-green-eyes). Now we're friends though.

May 8th

I bought Clip paint studio and tries to draw again. First drawing I post on Tumblr.

June 4th

I edited Card Captor Sakura screenshots to replace Sakura and Tomoyo's heads by Bruno and Mirabel's, horrifying people.

June 16th

My first self-insert commission I asked to @kewkcommissions is finally finished!

July 3rd

It's my birthday. So I write a very self-indulgent ficlet with a reader supposed to be me celebrating her birthday with her boyfriend Bruno and the rest of the Madrigal family.

I gets some asks wishing me happy birthday too, which is touching me a lot!

July 18th

I find a very interesting post about a jewish view of Encanto, starting my interest in a Jewish Madrigals AU.

Then, I create my own private Encanto server under a friend's suggestion since I was hesitating to join one and which.

July 25th

Encanto milk day, launched by @breannasfluff! I write a Bruno/reader ficlet with Milkman Bruno, drink some milk, and write a post about milk related expressions in french, inspired by @lunaencantada's.

July 28th

Under @unskilled-dabbler, @lunaencantada and @mmollymercury weird suggestion that I should continue drawing, I decide to draw again and to show it on my blog so you can see how bad I am.

July-August

Kinshi decides to ask for commissions with only 5 slot. I'm sending her one, thinking I probably won't be chosen, then hyperventilate when she accepts my request. Once it's ready, I post it on Tumblr and use it as a profile picture.

August 14th

I finish my first DTIYS, @glitternightingale's that taught me things though I ended up panicking.

August 26th

I do better for @waitingonavision's DTIYS!

September 6th

OBB BRUNO 💚

October 1rst

I begin my participation to Encantober, starting my hell between Encantober, my fic for the Encanto Big bang, and finishing my Halloween fic.

October 26th

@aetherdecember is so awesome she proofread my huge Halloween fic. So I gift her one fanart of one of her fics!

October 29th

@dazeddoodles post a fanart of Madrigal triplets as the Sanderson sister and inspire me to write a ficlet for Halloween with this topic.

November 24th

Happy anniversary Encanto!

In the end, I watched Encanto 39 times during this entire year!

[somesaltycookies]

This year has been very inspiring in terms of shows, movies aaaand music. Sadly not everything I've been obsessing about could fit, but these were definitely the top contenders <3

[blkkasa]

sugar mommy! mikasa x disney princess gf! black reader

Summary - you and mikasa spend time watching disney movies, having sleepovers, mikasa spending money on you, and etc.

Content - fluff, wlw, rich mikasa, princess tiana lover black reader, lovey dovey girlfriends, childhood disney movies.

Notes - i wrote this on my phone cause i didnt feel like writing on my laptop | words: 468

✩ As you and mikasa watching disney movies together, mikasa plans on taking you on a drive around the town and listen to disney music (and other songs besides disney hits) with her.

"wait mika can we listen to encanto music in the car please" - Y

"alright... just for you, pretty." - M

✩ You online shop for a princess tiana funko pop and also finds a princess rapunzel funko pop for mikasa (i think she'd like rapunzel and mulan).

✩ After mikasa's workout at the gym, she goes to a store to buy a suprise for you after ya'll 6th year anniversary of being in a relationship.

✩ Moments of communicating your favorite childhood disney movies and characters, mikasa decided to plan a lovely disney princess party for your (upcoming age) birthday.

✩ Your lovely girlfriend invites her friends and your friends to y'all house so everyone can have a disney sleepover with disney princess pjs.

✩ Everyone having a funtime sleeping over, making cookies, doing each other's makeup, tweeting random things on twitter, and playing games on tv.

✩ Mikasa carries you to bed and gives you a forehead kisses while putting a disney blanket on top of you.

✩ On halloween, you and mikasa dress up as daisy duck and minnie mouse as you facetime the girls all dressed up in costumes to head to a halloween party.

✩ Mikasa takes care of you after being sick, she makes some soup, and gives your minnie plushie to you, snuggled in bed with you, and you layed your head on her chest falling asleep.

✩ You and your friends get into an argument about who's a better character in disney while Mikasa looks at your phone and types something that would make everyone even more upset while you and mikasa are laughing.

"bae this shit is so funny what the fuck" - Y

"yall got issues, good lord..." - M

✩ Both of yall take a trip to california to go to disneyland and see fun things there while getting on the rides, eating food, and taking cute selfies of each other.

✩ You show mikasa pictures of how you want your nails to be done and she decides to let you take her car and drive to the nail salon while mikasa cleans up the house.

✩ Mikasa's friend invites you and her to go to the mall with her and on the way there you both find cute little disney hats and bags.

"ou mikasa do you see those pretty hats and bags?" - Y

"yeah, do you want one?" - M

"nah not today" - Y

✩ You decide on making princess tiana's gumbo and ask mikasa to cook with you.

✩ Mikasa wanted to surprise you with flowers, chocolate, disney plushies, and another promise ring for valentines day.

and that's it for the headcanons :)

[gadriezmannsgirl]

https://www.tumblr.com/gadriezmannsgirl/736999672550457344/please-tell-me-im-not-the-only-one-watching-over

Don't you think this deserves a Ferran's fic of him teasing his girl?

Kitchen Disaster -F.T7

Summary: Your boyfriend has found a new hobby, teasing you non-stop

°°° °°° °°° °°°

"Que va a explotar" (It's going to explode)

"Nada va a explotar" (Nothing is going to explode)

"Tendré que buscar nueva casa" (I'll have to look for a new home)

"Ferran!" You say putting the timer to the oven "Stop saying those things and stop trying to sabotage our dinner!" He laughs and winks at you

"I'll wait for you, preciosa" He said before leaving the kitchen towards the living room. You giggled before grabbing two glasses of lemon juice and bring them over. You laying on top of Ferran as you both watched Encanto

Both of you singing to the songs in the movie and being surprised by every single little fact as if you haven't seen it ever when Ferran stopped signing "What Else Can I Do?"

"Amor" You hum looking at him "Is the time over?" You look at your watch and shake your head

"No why?"

"Smells like burning" He said

"There are fifteen minutes left but still let me go and check" And with that you two stood up to watch the food and when you opened the oven both of you let out curses

"Puta madre"

"Joder!" You quickly get the pan out

"I thought you knew how to cook!"

"Shut up, you know I do!" You complain slightly when you see that the dough you did for your dinner had overflowed from the pan and that the oven was now full of dough.

"Pero..." (But)

"There's no but, I don't know what happened. I have added the same amount as usual!" You cry out watching the dirty oven and thinking of the hard work you had to do to clean it up

"I told you we were fine with just a pizza, preciosa"

"Bueno amor, you were in the mood for a meat filling and I wanted to do it for you" He grabs your hand to pull you into him

"Well, next time, listen to me when I tell you to order food, in that waiting time I can do little things."

"Mira tu" (Look at you) You hit him with the kitchen towel while he was laughing at you.

"The good thing about this is that I'll see you in a maid's outfit while you clean everything. Maybe something else will come out of it" He wiggled his eyebrows up and down as you laughed.

"In your life you will"

"Señorita, señorita, traiga la crema por favor, es hora de mi masaje" (Miss, miss; bring the cream please, it's time for my massage)

"Idiot, shut up" He laughed while you sighed knowing that your destiny was already written, maybe not with the maid outfit as your boyfriend of 1 year and a half wanted, but you did have to clean the whole oven again.

"Am I still cooking?" You asked looking at the dough that was left in the pan.

"Definitely not, I'm placing the order"

"Fer" You call him out as he looks at you. "Do you think…?"

"I'm not going to clean that up, honey"

"Come on Fer, I need you to help me remove the grease"

"You need me but not necessarily to clean up" He smirks

"Are you horny? I'm serious!"

"Look I think you should stop this" He made gestures for the dough. "Let me order the pizza and don't try this anymore… Or at least not without supervision"

"But I do know how to cook!"

"That's what Gusteau says, right?"

"Ferran!"

"Come on, I think you've put something on the side or you've overdone it with something… Yeast, maybe?"

"Amor," you complain. "I really don't know what happened, I've done it as usual, it's just that I wanted to make a very nice gesture to you. You always please me and-" He cut you off.

"And nothing. That you please me too, very much, more than I need. I know you wanted to make me a meal that I wanted and I thank you, it's the thought that counts. I appreciate it very much. But it's not necessary, maybe today is not the day to eat a meat filling, it doesn't matter. Don't be sad there will be plenty of time to be able to make that roll up that I know will be delicious for you."

"You're not mad?" he shook his head smiling as he kissed your forehead.

"Of course not, love. Accidents happen and it's just a little dough that can be removed with soap and degreaser" He placed a hand on your chin to make you look at him and gave you a soft kiss on the lips "Next time, I'll call my mom so you can do it together."

"No es muy divertido" (That's not very funny)

"Well, it's just that anyone can't cook, some people are terrible at it, Gusteau must change that, don't you see Pedri? fua, he almost burned his kitchen. Anyway, we don't want that to happen here. I'll be right back, you want it familiar with bacon and anchovies, right?" He winked at you

"I hate you sometimes, Torres" You sighed with a smile at his teasing "And yes, double cheese too"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviymarcsbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela

[daisies-daydreams]

Office Hours - Chapter 6 (Professor!Miguel O'Hara x F!College Student!Reader)

Pairing: Professor!Miguel O’Hara x F!College Student!Reader Category: Angst/Comfort Warnings: Family Issues, Implications of a Car Accident, Drinking, Swearing, Descriptions of Vomit, Reader's a bit of an asshole Word Count: 2.1k+

Summary: A part of Miguel’s past is revealed. Meanwhile, you stumble into your apartment and find support where you’d least expect it.

A/N: Still some angst in this one but I added some comfort. Next chapter will include more fluff/comfort for sure.

Ch. 5 <- -> Ch. 7

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

One Year Earlier...

Miguel glanced up to see Gabi rehearsing her lines, her brows scrunched together in deep concentration. She’s been practicing for months now, and even though it was only a few lines of dialogue, it meant everything to her.

"You're going to do great, mija," Miguel reassured his daughter. Gabi looked up, her warm, brown eyes glowing as she smiled sheepishly.

"Do you really think so, Papá?” she beamed. Miguel's wife, Mari, gave him a gentle smile as he looked at Gabi in the rearview mirror.

"I don't think so…I know so,” he smiled confidently. Gabi giggled as she gripped her notebook. Mari and Miguel exchanged warm glances before he suddenly pumped the brakes. Everyone in the car lurched forward as Miguel threw up one of his hands, the driver in front of him suddenly stopped.

"Hijo de puta-it's like nobody knows how to drive these days," he scoffed [Son of a bitch]. Mari pinched the back of his hand, shifting her wide eyed glance between him and Gabi.

"Miguel," she whispered loudly. His lips tightened as he cleared his throat.

"Don't repeat the first part of my sentence, Gabi. ¿Tú entiendes, mija?" the large man asked [Do you understand, my daughter?]. The young girl nodded fervently.

"Sí Papá," she said as she folded her hands in her lap [Yes, Papa]. He gave a firm nod before gently pressing on the gas again. The family hummed along to Gabi's favorite soundtrack as they waited in the drop-off line. The young girl sighed as she stuffed her notebook into her bag.

“Papá…are you coming tonight?” she asked. Miguel frowned as he pulled up to the curb.

“I’ll do my best, mija,” he said with a weary grin. Gabi frowned as she tugged on her red hat.

“Okay,” she sighed. Before Miguel could reply, she already opened the door and hopped out.

"Have a great day, Gabi!" Mari smiled and waved.

"Bye Mamá! Bye Papá!” she said as she waved back.

"See you tonight, pumpkin!" Miguel called. He and Mari smiled as their daughter slipped into the crowd of children, her long ponytail swishing beneath her wool hat. They watched until she safely made it inside. Miguel immediately switched to a different playlist, his wife giggling softly.

"I'm sorry, but I can only handle so much Encanto," he sighed while shifting his car into drive. His heart leapt as Mari wrapped her hand around his and brushed her thumb over his knuckles.

"It's okay-it’s not like we've heard it at least five-thousand times," she winked. Miguel chuckled. His beloved sat back in her seat as she tapped her fingers to the beat of the song. He raised a brow when she sighed.

"What's on your mind, hermosa?" Miguel asked. Mari pursed her lips. He bit the inside of his cheek and gently squeezed her hand. "I know that look. Come on, you can tell me," Miguel said softly. His wife shifted in her seat.

"Are you really going to show up to Gabi's play tonight?" Mari asked. His smile fell as a pang reverberated inside his chest. Miguel knitted his brows together.

"What do you mean? Of course I will," he said with an uneasy voice.

"From start to finish?" she asked in a serious tone. He sighed before letting his hand slip back to the steering wheel.

"I'll do my best," Miguel replied. Mari frowned as she took another deep breath.

"Miguel...you've been 'doing your best' for a long time, and even then you rarely show up to her events," she said. He clenched his jaw.

"Mari, you know I have to work. How else am I going to afford paying for her school?" Miguel said. Mari paused.

"I know, cariño...but she misses her Papá," she said. Miguel's heart sank at his wife's words. He inhaled deeply as he gripped the steering wheel.

"And our house? I don't want Gabi growing up in a rough neighborhood," he explained. Mari nodded with a solemn expression.

"I think we make enough money between your teaching and my research," she said. Miguel sighed.

"I just...I want to make sure she has the life I always dreamed of when I was her age," he said. Mari gently rested her hand on his thigh as they pulled up to a stoplight. Miguel hesitantly glanced over, his heart softening when he saw his wife's warm expression.

"You already have…but now you need give her the life she needs. And that includes you being in the picture more often,” she said. Miguel's throat tightened as he gave a slow nod. Come to think of it, he was been more involved in his job more than any other part of his life…his family included. When was the last time he even went out with them. Miguel cleared his throat.

"I...I’ll make sure to be there for her more. Starting tonight," he said with a firm resolve. Mari beamed as she leaned over and pressed a warm kiss to his lips. Miguel sighed and smiled as he cupped her face. A sudden honk pulled them from their embrace.

"Ah, idiota," he huffed and shook his head [Idiot]. The large man chuckled as his wife pinched his arm.

"You really need to tone down on your language," she scolded playfully.

"Sí, querida," he said while batting his lashes [Yes, dear]. Mari laughed as they pulled up to the Natural Science building. Miguel unbuckled his seatbelt and captured his wife's lips in a soft kiss. She squeaked as he splayed a hand on her side, a noise he always adored. He melted into the kiss, letting his lips linger for a few more seconds before parting.

"Te amo mucho, mi paloma," Miguel smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear [I love you very much, my dove]. Mari cooed and cupped his face.

"Te amo..." he laughed as she kissed all over his face between each word. "...mucho mucho mucho mucho mucho!" Mari said before pecking his lips. Miguel chuckled and squeezed her waist. She slipped out of the car and traded places with him.

"Gabi and I will come by and pick you up since you plan on getting out on time tonight," Mari said as she buckled in. He nodded before kissing his wife on the cheek.

“Sounds great. Have a good day, cariño,” he murmured softly [honey]. Mari smiled and pecked his lips.

“Have a great day, hermoso,” she winked [handsome]. Miguel chuckled as his wife closed the door. He watched as she drove off, the red brake lights glowing in the sheet of flurries. The professor shivered before making his way inside the massive building. He knew he had a hefty load of Modules to grade and exams to oversee, but he wasn’t going to let any of that stop him from being there for Gabi tonight.

He was going to give her the life she needed.

Present Day…

“Hey…hey!” the Uber driver raised his voice. You shot up in your seat, your head throbbing as you blinked and looked around. The car hummed as you stared at the glowing doors to your dormitory. The driver impatiently drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

“That’ll be $35.89,” he droned. You wrinkled your nose.

“For a few blocks?” you asked. The driver shot you an unamused expression. You sighed as you pulled out your phone. After you paid and stepped inside the building, you felt your heart sink into the pit of your stomach. The shock was starting to fade into a sick, heavy feeling inside your chest. You took a shaky breath as you made your way down the hall.

You gripped the key to your dorm as your hands shook wildly. You jumped when a tall, lanky figure suddenly shot up from your couch right as you opened the door.

“Gwendy? That you?” Hobie groaned as he squinted his eyes. You clenched your jaw.

“Oh, great. Just what I fucking need right now!” you snapped as you slammed the door behind you. Hobie yawned and stretched his long, wiry arms above his head while you stomped into the kitchen. 

“Rough night?” he asked. You glared at him before yanking the fridge door open. You snatched a can of beer and slammed the door shut. Hobie watched with raised brows as you guzzled it down, the carbonation scratching against your dry throat. You wiped your mouth and gasped for air, the Brit still staring at you with wide eyes.

“What?!” you barked. Hobie raised his hands up as he slipped off the couch. Bitter tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you gulped down the rest of your beer. You jumped when he appeared next to you, his thumbs hooked over his jean pockets. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hobie asked, his voice softer than usual. Your hand squeezed the empty can as you laughed caustically. 

“Oh, yeah, like you would be any help,” you spat. Hobie’s frown deepened as tears suddenly spilled down your cheeks. Embarrassment quickly flooded into every inch of your body as you stumbled back, nearly slamming yourself against the fridge. 

“Hey, hey take it easy,” he said as he helped steady you, one hand gently resting on your hip and the other on your upper arm. He tilted his head down to meet at your eye level. “Just breathe with me, yeah?” he said. You nodded, your heart rate slowing as you slowly inhaled and exhaled with him. Hobie kept his palm on your waist as he rubbed your arm. “Feel better?” he asked. You sighed. 

“A little,” you said before nearly tripping over your feet. Hobie hooked his arms beneath yours, supporting your body with his lean frame. 

“Let’s have a seat, yeah?” he suggested. You puffed out a breath of hot air before nodding. Hobie slung one of your arms over his shoulder as he helped you over to the couch. You gagged as you fell onto one of the cushions, acid burning your esophagus. “Easy there, love,” he murmured as he rubbed your upper back. You shook as you leaned over, your head spinning as your chest was torn in the riptides of heartbreak over and over again. 

“He-he used me, Hobie,” you violently sobbed. “Used me as a stand-in for his dead wife or girlfriend or some shit,” you shivered. His hand stiffened against your spine as you choked. 

“Who used you?” he asked, his voice laced with tension. You sniffed and wiped your eyes. 

“M-Miguel,” you cried. You could hear every muscle in his body tense as he gritted his teeth. 

“That fuckin’ twat,” Hobie growled lowly. Your head shot up, eyes widening when you saw his eyebrows furrow and nostrils flare. Your bottom lip trembled before you suddenly lunged forward, wrapping your arms around his thin frame. 

“I-I was so stupid,” you hiccupped. Hobie shook his head as he gently wrapped his arms around you, his hand stroking your back as you cried onto his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have gone into it expecting that he’d feel the same way…especially since he was probably thinking of his wife while we were-” your hands gripped at the back of his ripped t-shirt as you cut yourself off. “Fucking stupid, stupid, stupid,” you scowled. 

“Oi, look at me,” Hobie drawled. You slowly pulled your head up, your eyes red and puffy as he looked down at you with a gentle frown. “Y’not stupid, y’hear me?” he said firmly. You blinked away a few more tears. 

“Yes, I am!” you sobbed. Hobie cupped his hand beneath your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze again. 

“No, y’not. You didn’t know a thing about what he was doin’,” he said. Your heart fluttered for a second, your mouth suddenly feeling a bit dry. Your hands found their way to his puffy wicks as you pulled his head down, crashing your lips against his. Hobie gasped quietly before gently pushing you away. 

“Hobie, please,” you begged as your hands fell to his sharp shoulders. He frowned and shook his head.  

“(Y/N), this really isn’t what you need right now. Trust me,” he said. Your face glowed with heat as you balled your fists against his sleeves. 

“Please! I-I need this-need you,” you gulped. Hobie cupped your face with his hand, his calloused thumb stroking over your cheek. 

“I’m right here, love. But I’m not going to let you repeat what he’s done to you,” he said sternly. You looked at him silently before a bitter taste filled your mouth. You frowned before you parted your lips, vomit spilling all over his shirt and pants. You coughed and sputtered as he patted your back, his expression unchanged as you emptied your stomach across his lap. You sniffed, hands still clawing at his sleeves as he sighed. 

“C’mon, love. Let’s get ourselves cleaned up,” he said. Your eyelids began to droop as you sank into the couch. The last thing you heard was your name falling from his lips before you drifted into a deep sleep. 

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter @depressesoespressorat @yuhhtricki999 @sebinis-musings @lavenderbabu @tayleighuh @thedevax @famouscattale @spktrgantenk @zombieblogxx @mrswhitethornbelikov @migueloharastruelove @galaxy-dusk @samanthashadowriley @theloneshadow24 @xxkay15xx @inspace1 @manlikemilesmyguy @ghostslynx @synamonthy @oharasfilipinawife @scaleniusrm @jotarossshark @acotarobsessed @8xbygirl @blueapplesiren

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[juiles]

I will always need you my love.

Summary: You and your sister are super close but you don't feel like you have a relationship with your mother anymore until she finally sees you.

Type: hurt and comfort, fluff, fluff and more fluff.

Triggers: a small panic attack but nothing else.

Masterlist!

------------------------------------------------------------

My little sister Rose was my entire life. I spent my entire life keeping her safe and doing anything she needs from me. My mom was there as well I suppose but this little girl was my entire world.

I was sitting in her room watching her play with her barbies, having taken a break from her endless game. She looked up at me with a massive pout making me raise her eyebrow at her. “Yes peanut?”

“I’m hungryyyyyyyyyy…” She whined playfully making me laugh.

“So lets go get something to eat then!” I said excitedly making her laugh. I stood up and scooped her up placing her on my hip. She instantly wrapped her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck leaning her head on my shoulder. “What does my princess want?”

“Your mac and cheese!!!” She said bouncing slightly in my arms, I walked down the stairs telling her a story about a princess, I then placed her on the counter after grabbing everything I needed from around the kitchen and put a hand on her leg as I started cooking her favourite food in the world. I grabbed my phone and connected it to the wireless speaker around the house and put on her favourite playlist, which is currently compiled of mostly Encanto, Frozen, and most classic Disney movies. I stirred the pasta into the boiling water and watched as she did a little dance sitting on the counter.

We both turned and smiled as our mom walked into the kitchem, putting her bag on the island before walking over to us. She placed a kiss on my head then smothered Rose with kisses. “Mac and Cheese?” She asked motioning to the ingredients laid out. “Let me guess, the princess requested it?”

I laughed and nodded leaning against the counter. “She’s just so cute!” I said looking at the 4 year old now clinging to our moms hand as she played with her rings. “I can’t say no to her. Anyways, we need some groceries so I figured I would take her to the store after we eat, a little trip before bedtime.”

“You don’t have to baby. I can do that if you want.” Scarlett said with a soft smile towards me. “Or we could all go together?” The smile on my face grew and both of us instantly started nodding. “I’ll take that as a yes!”

“I love shopping with mama and sissy!!” Rose said bouncing on the counter, mum placed her hands on her knees to keep her from bouncing off the counter. “I know princess.”

I smiled softly as I stepped away to finish the food before putting it in bowls and the three of us sat at the table and ate. After we finished, mum took rose upstairs to get ready and I cleaned up from dinner before grabbing my shoes and jacket. I looked out the window and saw mums car already gone, my heart sank. I know she loves me but sometimes she gets so focused on Rose, she forgets that I also exist. I felt tears well up in my eyes and I slowly made my way to the couch, sliding down to be curled up against the arm rest, my knees pulled up to my chest.

I must have fallen asleep because I woke up around an hour later to the door opening and Rose screaming. I jumped up, forgetting I had been crying and ran towards the door to find Rose, red in the face, slumped on the floor screaming. I quickly moved forward and scooped her up. She thrashed around for a few minutes before realizing it was me and her arms wrapped around my neck and her screams turned into sobs into my neck.

“Y/n?” I heard my moms voice making me look up at her before quickly turning on my heel and made my way to Rose’s room. I took her jacket and shoes off and had her calm and curled up in my arms on her bed. I rubbed her back as she sniffled.

“What happened princess?” I murmured into her dirty blonde hair, she pulled her head out of my neck and looked up at me, her red and tear stained face breaking my heart.

“Mama forgot you… I sleep and mama no bring you to store…” She muttered making my eyes well up. I quickly swallowed the lump that reformed in my throat at the thought of my mother forgetting about me yet again and I quickly smothered her in kisses.

“It’s okay rosie… I was really sleepy anyways so I had a nap.” I said smiling at my baby sister, she sniffled and nodded before burying back into me. “Why don’t we get you in the bath and in bed. I’ll sing you, your song tonight okay?” she nodded excitedly and with a real amile on her face, she ran to the bathroom that joined our rooms together. I followed quickly and ran her a bath. I helped her take her clothes off and she climbed into the tub.

With a little help from me, she got her body washed then I washed and conditioned her hair before rinsing it out. I sat back and let her play for a little before I picked her up in her fluffy towel and took her back into her room. We got her changed into her pyjamas and I brushed her hair out and put it into two French braids. She laid down in her bed and I tucked her in before singing to her.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey, you’ll never know dear, how much I love you, please don’t take my sunshine away.” I sang to her, my raspy voice putting her to sleep almost right away. I kissed her head and turned towards her door to see my mom standing there, tears running down her face. I shot her a look before quietly going through our bathroom and closing my door as I walked into my room. My mom was stood at my main door when I got in.

“I’m not in the mood…” I muttered sitting on my bed pulling my phone out.

“I need-“

“No. You don’t get to do anything…” I cut her off shooting her a glare. She took a breath and nodded, closing her eyes. “You forgot me again. Mom you forgot all about me! It was my idea to bring her to the store and we talked about it over dinner!”

“You need a break…” She said quietly making me look up at her. “I see what you do for your sister y/n. I see how much you do for me. It’s not fair. You’re 17 years old, you shouldn’t be raising your sister but I’m always so busy that I just let you do it. I love you baby… I won’t let you do this alone anymore…” My eyes widened at hearing her words and as she turned around, I threw myself on her back hugging her tightly from behind. She managed to turn in my arms and pulled me closer to her.

“I never ever meant to make you feel like I don’t care about you or that I forgot about you. I thought you wouldn’t enjoy doing things with me anymore because you’re a teenager. That you don’t need me anymore. You’ve always been so independent but you are still my baby. My first born, and I’m so sorry ever made you feel less than.”

I just sobbed into her neck, one hand going up to wrap my fingers in her hair, the other clinging to the back of her shirt, afraid to let go. “I’ll always need you mama…”

She rubbed my back, her other hand, scratching my scalp, something that always calmed me down. She picked me up and carried me over to my bed. She pulled me into her lap and smothered my head in kisses. “And I will always need you love.”

[strigeist]

Heyyyyy!!! You still do Encanto? If so the can you do Camilo x male reader and like the madrigals throw a party for whatever and male reader knows how to dance so he dances with a girl/guy whatever and they accidentally kiss and male reader explains or whatever that it was an accident. (Sorry if it’s long and too detailed)

~ Yes! Since we're so close to the new year I decided to mix it up with that, I hope you don't mind. And it's no biggie, really! I prefer more specific requests anyway. Thank you for the request, it's the first one I get so I'm pretty happy about that s2. Hope you like it! ~

Camilo x Male reader

Summary: You accidentally kiss someone else while dancing. Camilo, your boyfriend, sees it. Misundertandings ensue. (You make up at the end, though, so don't worry!)

Word count: 1830.

Genre: Emotional hurt/comfort(?)

Author's notes: This might be a bit ooc, I'm not too sure, it's been a while since I've interacted with anything Encanto! Also, I used the word "parce" at some point, I've heard it's similar to "bro" in English or "mano" in Portuguese. I say it a lot so I feel it would fit in the dialogue but do let me know if it's not used like that in Colombia. And!! The dance I had in mind for this was cumbia since it's, apparently, a very popular dance there, but it's not really mentioned explicitly (and it could be wrong, since if you looked up that about Brazil Google would make you think most people dance samba at parties here when it's not really true, at least in my experience). And yes, the way the "kiss" happens isn't that realistic but who cares? Not me (though, fun fact, something very similar happened to me irl once!)

Celebrating the new year was always fun at Encanto. The whole town came over to the Madrigals' house and danced, drank, ate, and just generally partied until dawn. Now, it wasn't as wild as it sounds, but it was always a treat.

This year was particularly exciting for you since it was your first year officially attending as Camilo's boyfriend!

What did that change? Well, not much, only that you helped organize the place before the party, which you didn't mind (not when that meant you could spend the entire day goofing around with Camilo while doing so). But even though you partied together almost every year, there was just something different about dancing as a couple instead of friends.

The two of you had danced for a while after the *real* party started, however eventually decided to switch partners every few minutes as most did. It was just more fun like that, and you were still close enough for it to be considered time spent together. Plus, you were amongst friends, so it didn't feel weird.

Eventually, you ended up back together. After a few short minutes of dancing, Camilo suddenly seemed distracted, staring behind you as he stepped along to the beat of the song.

"You know, if you keep doing that you're gonna step on my foot!" You teased, then asked, "What's wrong?"

"... Oh, perdón, corazón." You cringed a little at how that rhymed. It seemed intentional by the way he giggled after saying that. "Mi mamá wants me to fix something, I think, I don't really understand what she's trying to say."

You stopped dancing and turned around to look as well, quickly finding Pepa gesturing angrily at the upstairs of the house and mouthing something to your boyfriend. After she noticed you looking, however, she stopped, smiled, and waved almost awkwardly. You and Camilo laughed.

"Want me to go with you?"

"No, no, it's fine! I want you to enjoy yourself, you already did enough by helping me with the decorations earlier. Just keep dancing or whatever." he explained, then grabbed your chin and gave you a soft kiss on the lips, grinning right after "See you in a few minutes!"

With that, he left.

'Charming bastard..." You thought as you watched him go, lips still tingling from his kiss.

[...]

You tried to wait for Camilo to come back but got bored after a few minutes. He did give you permission to dance with other people, and you were doing that before anyway, so you were sure he wouldn't mind.

The dance floor (that was actually just the main room of the house) was considerably fuller now that people started drinking, but you still had enough space to dance. Your current partner was Daniela, your sweet next-door neighbor. It was actually her mother that taught you how to dance along with some of the other kids in your street, so you were very comfortable dancing with each other.

You were facing each other to be able to talk better, one of your hands on her waist and the other on her hand. You spoke about your plans for the year, how your relationship was going, did some casual gossip because why not, when suddenly someone ran into her from behind. She fell forward, and your natural instinct was to try to hold her so she wouldn't fall. This, unfortunately for the two of you, ended up causing something quite awkward: your lips on hers.

It was very, very quick, but felt weird nonetheless. You hadn't really kissed anyone other than Camilo, but did this even count when it was on accident?

You stared at each other for a few seconds after separating. She was slowly becoming red like a tomato (and your face felt very hot as well, so Lord knows what you looked like), but both ended up laughing.

"I'm sorry, I didn't- someone ran into me-" She tried to explain, but you just shook your head and put your hand on her shoulder with a smile.

"I get it, it's fine, I noticed. Still wanna dance?"

She nodded positively and you went back to doing what you were before, not giving the event much thought.

[...]

A few more minutes passed, and still not a trace of Camilo. You weren't worried before, but now you were. Did something happen?

"Parce... I'm gonna go look for Camilo. He's been gone for a while, I'm worried." You announced and stopped dancing.

"Alright! See you later, (Y/n)! Tell him I said hi." She said.

"Will do!" You waved, then left.

You looked around the entire house and still couldn't find your boyfriend. Now you were really worried. It felt a bit irrational since it was Pepa who had left with him, so surely she would keep him safe. But what if something happened to the two of them, then?

Before your paranoid thoughts could get to you, you managed to find Dolores, who looked around as if looking for someone while holding a cup of juice.

"Hey, Dolores!" You greeted and she jumped before looking at you. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Have you seen Camilo around? I can't find him anywhere!"

"Oh, he's mad at you because you kissed Daniela." She explained, then widened her eyes and squeaked when she noticed what she just said. "I mean, no."

Your chest tightened when you heard what she said. So he thought you cheated on him?

"He saw that? But it was an accident! I don't-"

"I tried to tell him, but he didn't want to listen." She shrugged.

You didn't know how to feel about how Dolores was apparently listening to you and Daniela talk for her to have managed to catch that part, but didn't give it much thought. You were more worried about Camilo as of now.

"Where is he?"

She looked around with just her eyes, then replied.

"His bedroom. You should go, he's very upset."

You didn't wait a second before you left, quickly making your way to your boyfriend's room. Even though it wasn't really your fault, you still felt extremely guilty. This day was supposed to be one of fun and parties, not sadness! You weren't even sure he would believe you when you told him what had actually happened, but the thought of him breaking up with you because of that gave upset you too much, so you chose to think about it.

When you got to the glowing door of his bedroom, you knocked a few times, hands shaking a little from the built-up anxiety. You hoped he wasn't THAT hurt.

"Camilo, it's (Y/n)!" You said. "We need to talk!"

You couldn't hear anything behind the door for a while, but it suddenly just opened, revealing none other than Camilo. His eyes were red and puffy and he was still wearing what he wore at the party, though a little crumpled and with some small bits of dust that probably came from a blanket.

You could have cried at the sight, especially with this misunderstanding being the cause of it, but before you could say anything Camilo started talking.

"There's nothing to talk about!" he exclaimed angrily and sniffled, tears starting to fall from his eyes. "Y-you kissed her while I was gone! I trusted you! I thought..."

"No, no, mi vida! It's nothing like that!" you interrupted before he could go on, determined to avoid any further misunderstandings. "Someone pushed her on accident and she fell, I tried to catch her and, well, that's what you saw! I didn't say anything because, to us, it didn't mean anything! It was an accident! She has her boyfriend and I have you, and I would never want to kiss anyone else! I'm so, so, so sorry..."

Camilo stared at you silently as his tears came to a halt. He sniffled and dried his eyes with his hands before speaking again.

"So... You still love me?"

"Of course I do! I love you more than anything, amor!" your face got warmer after saying that. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I just didn't think it was that big of a deal, but I should have-"

Before you could keep going, Camilo hugged you so fast you didn't even see it coming. You returned the gesture and wrapped your arms gently around his figure, softly caressing his back as you did.

"... Mi hermana tried to say that to me, I think, but I didn't really listen... I'm, uh, sorry." He said. The words were a bit muffled since his face was pressed against your neck, but they were still understandable.

You let out a relaxed sigh, then giggled and placed a sweet kiss on his forehead.

"It's fine, she told me. I'm just glad you're not sad anymore... Unless you still are?" You pulled away and looked at him with a worried expression.

He pulled you back and shook his head.

"No, no! I'm glad I was wrong! I'm sorry for having jumped to conclusions so quickly-"

"But it was perfectly reasonable for you to get upset about that, I-"

"Ey, ey!" he interrupted as he pulled away, placing both hands on your shoulders. "What if, instead of infinitely apologizing to each other, we went back to having some fun?"

You laughed and nodded.

"Yeah, that sounds better. Wanna go back to the party?"

"Actually," Camilo replied with a mischievous grin "I had something else in mind." He walked a few steps back and looked at the inside of his bedroom, then at you again. "Wanna come in?"

You only raised an eyebrow and complied, following him into the room.

[...]

The idea turned out to be surprisingly mild. You were laying down comfortably on Camilo's bed, with your arms wrapped around him as you watched some telenovela his tío, Bruno, had recommended to him.

"But... Wasn't she his tía or something?" You asked, confused.

"Amor, are you even watching?" Camilo huffed in an annoyed manner but didn't bother looking up at you. "Yes, she is! But she doesn't remember that, she has amnesia! That's like, the whole point!" He said as he gestured at the screen.

"Perdón, perdón. I'm just busy looking at something else." You said, staring lovingly at him.

He turned his head towards you in curiosity, staring blankly for a few minutes before becoming almost as red as a tomato.

"Eres ridículo, (Y/n)." He laughed and gave you a quick kiss on the lips, then went back to watching the TV.

"What can I say? I love you! And you're very, very pretty."

"He, I love you too. Now pay attention to the telenovela or I swear I'll make you watch it all again!"

You both ended up falling asleep together while watching television. It wasn't exactly what you had in mind for the new year, but waking up in the morning with him still in your arms was certainly more than you could have asked for.

[addaxus]

Some spicy stuff here👀

A Western Papá Bruno AU

It’s been awhile but for good reason. I know I’m shuffling more AUs than I can keep up with but this one drew me in so fast! This person came to me with this AU idea that I was already drawn into. They asked to remain anonymous so I’m keeping my word.

I was like heck yeah I’m so down!

Here’s small summaries of each major age in the timeline so far:

A 15 year old Bruno has a massive falling out with Alma and leaves the Encanto. He becomes an outlaw to survive; using his precognitive powers to out-draw and out-shoot other gunslingers. His skills, deeds, and the superstitions of others earn him the nickname “Bruno the Brujo.”

By age 21 Bruno turns to the drink to cope with his increasingly painful visions. This has the unfortunate effect of turning him into the notoriously violent and intemperate outlaw known as “El Ojos Diablos” (The Devil’s Eyes).

By his early to mid 30’s, El Ojos Diablos has hit his lowest point. His gang attempts to betray him while they sleep in their hideout so they can claim the large bounty on his head. For their troubles they all end up biting the bullet. Wounded and near dead, he is found by a woman, Maria, and her brother, Alonzo.

By the time he reaches 35, Bruno has been brought back to health, wed to Maria, has gained the trust of her brother, and has a baby, a daughter, Mirabel that same year. He’s a renowned horse breeder and rancher at their farm trying to live a normal life. Some time later, Maria dies of pneumonia. From the start of her birth, Bruno has struggled to father Mirabel after seeing her in a terrible vision where she guns down someone with a shotgun.

There’s so many more details but that all comes later when it’s been sorted out. This AU IS STILL IN DEVELOPMENT!!

[starsfic]

Summaries:

MK is visiting Pigsy’s grandmother out in the country, unaware of the local demon lord and dragon lord fighting in the background over who gets to court him.

After Mirabel moves out of Casita, Abuela realizes that Mirabel is the next candleholder and tries to get her to move back in. Mirabel just wants one thing: an apology.

Qi Xiaotian gets a cheerleader outfit from Sun Wukong. This becomes a problem for Long Xiaojiao and Red Son. Horny.

Spicynoodles adopt a cat when they move in together. A few months later the cat refuses to leave Xiaotian alone.

AU where the Camel Ridge Trio were never sealed away, the trio end up playing as uncle figures for Red while DBK is sealed. Red ends up following Azure's lead when he falls for a pretty delivery boy.

Long Xiaojiao is challenged to play Mario's version of DDR.

Fairytale AU: Prince Qi Xiaotian finds a beautiful scarlet deer on Flower Fruit Mountain while Prince Red of the Demon Bull Clan goes missing

The beginning of my Scooby Doo incarnation. After a summer at home, Mystery Incorporated try to head back to college. The key word is try.

DND AU, Lionpeach fic where Azure Lion gets invited to DND Night

22 year old and 32 year old Qi Xiaotian switch places.

[honeybeefae]

Let's start off with a bang! 69 😏

(The first number I got was 69, and while I know we all hoped it was spicy, y’all got FLUFF AND ANGST INSTEAD. And yes, this is the song from Encanto and yes it is one of my faves. I sing it to my daughter almost every night 🥹)

#69 - Two Oruguitas by Sebastian Yatra (Encanto Soundtrack)

Life Finds A Way (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

Summary// Growing up together, Eris was your closest friend. The two of you went through everything together and more often than not if one of you were somewhere, the other wasn’t far behind. However, when Amarantha comes to your court and begins to ensnare everyone, Eris forces you back and tells you to run and never look back. Now, after fifty-odd years, you have tracked back to your home, hoping to find him.

WARNINGS: Mentions of fighting, blood

“I can’t decide on which one to wear…” You mused to yourself, switching between two different outfits for dinner tonight. They both looked amazing on you, both beautiful in their own way, but it was impossible to choose. “If I do this one I could wear that necklace but this one-”

“Oh for Cauldron’s sake Y/N, are you still deciding?” A teasing voice groaned from the doorway, your eyes rolling at your best friend’s question. “It’s just a dinner, there’s no need to act like you are getting betrothed.”

You smirked, setting down the outfits on your bed, before turning around with your head cocked to the side. “At least if I were, my fiance wouldn’t have to worry about me showing up with my laces undone.” You snarked back, laughing when Eris’s eyes widened, and he fumbled with the top of his pants. 

It was a lie, of course, but you snatched one of the outfits and ran to the bathroom before he could grab you to torment you. The door slammed shut on him, and he playfully hit it with his fist, fighting the urge to smile at your antics. “You think you’re so funny, little fox.”

After a couple of minutes, you opened the door, dressed and ready for the night, and patted his cheek condescendingly. “No, I know I am funny.”

He shook his head and offered you his arm, leading the two of you out of your room and towards the dining hall. “You keep fidgeting. Are you nervous?”

“For Amarantha? No. She’s harmless and is actually doing well opening up the trade routes. I’m just wondering if the other dress would’ve looked better…” You sigh as you fiddled with the lace of your sleeve, missing the look that flashed in Eris’s eyes.

Both of you stopped just outside of the door and before you could take another step, he pulled you back by his side. The action caused you to look up at him, startled, only to immediately melt at his words.

“You look beautiful, Y/N. Anything would look good on you.”

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment and you had to look away so that he didn’t catch you trying to calm your breathing, mumbling a quiet “Thank you.” before leading the way inside.

The music was soft and melodic as you both parted ways to opposite ends of the dining table, smiling and acknowledging the other high members of the court as you took your seat. Amarantha was at the head with Lord Beron, Lady of the Autumn Court, and the rest of their family. 

Dinner was served promptly and it looked delicious, everyone digging in as the conversations kept moving from subject to subject. Eris kept sending you glances, which you returned shyly, as the night went on. It was almost time for dessert when the Emissary of Hybern stood abruptly, raising her glass and toasting to the Lord of Autumn.

“To your lord, who serves his court pridefully as well as his interests. May we have many more years of trade and peace.” Amarantha said sweetly, her hooded eyes watching Beron carefully as he savoured the ego stroke with a long sip of wine.

Everyone toasted but before you could even let the wine hit your tongue, you noticed your Lord struggling to speak. His glass fell from his grip, shattering on the floor, as he felt his power slipping away from him. You watched his skin change to a cooler tone, his body sagging as if it couldn’t even hold his own weight, while Amarantha laughed gleefully.

“What’s wrong, Beron? Choking on your own ambition? Or is it mine?” She snarled as Eris and his brothers immediately went to attack. Beron tried to send out a flame but all that came from his hand was a small tuft of smoke, his mouth agape in horror as well as everyone else’s.

She had stolen his power.

“Now boys, you know you are no match for me,” Amarantha chided as she sent them flying back with a wave of her hand, the doors to the dining hall bursting open to reveal a massive army of fae who were armed to the teeth. “Or my army. I would surrender now if I were you, Lord Beron.”

Beron stared at her with a gaze that could kill, his mouth tight as he used what was left of his strength to grab a nearby knife and slice her arm. She hissed, watching the blood stream down her dress, before the wound healed quickly.

“You retched whore, I will have your head for this.” Beron swore as he lunged again. Amarantha was faster though, dodging his attack and pinning his arm behind his head so that the knife was now pressed to his neck.

“Take the Lord and his family, kill the rest.” She ordered her army, not even sparing a glance to the innocent faes that were now running to escape. The armoured fae were quick to the slaughter, blood splattering across the walls as your brain tried to catch up with what was happening. 

“Run!” Eris’s voice cut through the chaos, your eyes meeting his in utter fear. You swiftly rose from your seat and looked to one of the windows, your heart pounding in your chest as you began to weave and dodge through the mass of bodies and swords. 

The air was burning in your lungs as adrenaline pumped through your body. You ducked down as one of her men tried to take your head, sliding underneath his legs as the window became closer and closer. It was becoming quieter and quieter as all of your family and friends became collateral to whatever Amarantha was starting, and you knew your window of opportunity was closing rapidly.

You used all your strength to break through the balcony windows, not even noticing the sting of the glass against your skin as you grabbed onto the ledge to try and swing out over the roaring waterfall below you. 

Time seemed to slow down as you turned to cast one last look of the massacare behind you, stomach churning violently before you saw Eris being hoisted up by one of the men. His eyes were panicked, searching the bodies for yours, until he landed on your shadowy figure hanging on by a thread. 

Every fiber of your being wanted to help him, to try and free him for whatever hell was about to endure, but Eris shook his head and mouthed, “Go. Now.” as the guard turned to follow his gaze.

It felt as if your very soul was being snatched from your heart as you blinked away the tears, closing your eyes and whispering, “I’ll find you, Eris.” before you let your hand open and you fell into the rigid waters below. Two of her men barely missed you, watching your body hit the water forcefully, before deciding you good as dead and turning back inside. 

As your body became swallowed by the falls, you were going in and out of consciousness. The impact had hurt you greatly. It felt like you had been slammed into a wall of cement and as you continued to struggle against the waves and churning of it, your air was beginning to run out.

You could feel the seconds tick by as you desperately tried to break to the surface, your muscles screaming in protest, and a small part of you wondered if you should just let it end here. Whatever was happening in Pyrthian was just the beginning and with everything you had just lost, what was the point? Where could you go?

The thoughts had you pulling back your strength, your eyes closing in acceptance, before Eris’s face flashed vividly in your mind. He was still alive, being marched to Cauldron knows where, but he was alive.

And as long as he was, you were too.

Your eyes opened in fierce determintation as you reached out for the surface once more, your hand wrapping around the branch of a tree as you pulled yourself up and onto the river bank with your last, gasping breath.

The river roaring behind you seemed to be all you could hear as you took in as much air as you could, laying face down in the sharp pebbles while regaining your strength.

Time was an illusion as you rolled onto your back, staring into the night sky as small shivers started to shake your body. The moon was high in the sky and you realized that you were in the middle of the forest, with no supplies, and close to freezing to death.

Pushing yourself up on unsteady legs you began to make your trek through the forest, finding a small cave where you hunkered down for the night as you lit a fire to keep you warm. The forest was alive with sound, crickets chirping and foxes hunting, as if it had no knowledge of what was happening around it.

You took comfort in that, in how life survived even in times like these. The Earth was resilient and as of now, you would have to be too. You needed to become more than a pretty fae in court. 

You had to become a weapon if you were going to survive.

51 Years Later

Every night you thought about Eris, your family and friends, and that hateful witch who had taken over. You could never stay in a place too long, disgusing yourself as a mercenary in the mortal lands to avoid getting caught by one of Amarantha’s henchmen, but you never forget where you came from. 

At first you had planned to attack her and her men in the middle of the nights, spying on them like Eris had taught you when he took you on hunting trips, but it fell apart when you realized the gravity of the situation. 

She hadn’t just taken Beron’s powers…she had taken everyones. Within a few weeks she had control over all of Pyrthian and had taken refuge Under The Mountain where the horrors of her court were whispered in taverns and castles. 

You had quickly realized you could not take her down, not alone, and the one time you had tried to organzie a rebellion they had turned on each other and almost caused you to be caught. 

So you became normal, doing menial tasks for poor pay in order to survive in hopes of one day avenging your court and family. It was what kept you going. Hope was all you had left.

It wasn’t until a few months ago you heard that some human girl, Feyre, had bravely gone and beaten Amarantha and her entire group of vermin. She had died in the battle but with the newly returned powers of all of the High Lords, she had been Made again as a faerie. 

Most of the mortals scoffed at the idea of it, seeing her as a traitor more than a martyr, but what little fae you knew in the mortal lands regarded her as a saviour. 

Feyre Cursebreaker was what they called her, a fitting name for her deeds. Some of your aquantinces had started to make their trip back to the wall to see if it was true, something you hadn’t had the guts to do, only to never be heard from again.

That could only mean two things and with all the hell you had been through, you assumed the worst. Until one night, while drinking cheap wine, you heard his name.

“Eris is sure to fit in for his father when the time comes. Beron already showed his weakness when everything happened, it was the reason Amarantha chose him to start with, and his sons pridefulness is just like his.” One of the dark haired fae stated beside you, scoffing. 

“What did you say?” You turned to ask, voice low and slightly desperate. “Are they back in the Autumn Court?”

The two fae gave you a long stare, probably taking note of your autumnesque features, before chuckling. “They’ve been back, kid. Have you not heard about Feyre Cursebreaker? She-”

“Of course I’ve heard of her. I just didn’t know if it was mere gossip or if she actually freed them.” You retorted snarkily, frowning at them as they shook their heads at your words. “But it is true?”

“Yes, as is our words about Beron and his bastard sons.” The dark hair oned huffed, sneering at the thought of them. “I would keep your distance from the Autumn Court, girl, even if it is where you hail from. That mountain changed everyone.”

You looked down at your wine, the dark scarlet swirling around just like it had that night. The screams of your friends, Eris’s deseperate plea, it was like the glass was taunting you into reliving it over again. It seemed to know you were too scared to go back and face what happened.

But as you looked out the window and into the warm, sunny day, you thought back to that first night in the cave. Everything around you had adapted to life but that didn’t mean it stopped there, it changed every day and sometimes…sometimes it took leaps of faith.

The two fae watched as you slammed money down and headed outside, shrugging their shoulders at your stubbornness. You brushed past everyone with little regard, eyes dead set on the wall that was growing closer with each step.

It was as ominous as you remembered, vibrating with magical energy. Your bravery faltered in the fear of the unknown but you pushed past it, steeling yourself as you walked through and into the warm air of the Spring Court. You braced yourself for someone to strike you down, for your throat to be slashed or stomach slit, but it never came.

Instead all you heard was peace. The birds were singing, the sun warm on your skin, and it was like the land was welcoming you back. You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled in your chest as you sank to the ground and buried your fingers into the earth. 

You could feel it healing, could feel it singing in praise as the past became the past. It made you giddy with excitement and without a moment to lose, you threw off your tattered cloak and began your trek to the Autumn Court. 

Hours flew by and for the first time in forever, you couldn’t feel it. The only emotion that was occurring was hope as the border got closer. Trees started to turn orange and red, the familiar wind of Autumn wrapping around you like a warm hug. 

And when you made the final step into the forest…you felt tranquility. After fifty one years, you were home. You were where you belonged. It was a feeling you wish you could bottle up and keep forever.

A twig snapped behind you and you whipped around to see an Autumn Court sentry, his arrow pointed directly at you. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” He yelled, eyes as cold as stone.

Before you could explain yourself, instinct took over and you took off. The arrow flew past your head but from your time in the woods, you knew exactly where to go. People were shouting behind you, hounds howling as they started to track you, but you were running on utter impulse.

No one could catch you, not even their trained dogs, as you slid down to the river bank and leapt across the roaring waters. The logical part of your brain was begging you to stop and explain but you couldn’t risk it, weaving between the trees until you were sure you had lost them.

Your back hit the large oak behind you with a thud as you caught your breath, listening for any sounds. It was quiet though, not even the hounds barking, and when you turned to peak around the trunk you felt a burning fire wrap around your legs and drag you out of your hiding spot.

“No! No! Let me go!” You screamed, thrashing erratically as you came to a stop and a large, warm hand hoisted you up roughly by your shoulders. “I swear on the Mother I will-”

“Y/N?” Eris said in disbelief, eyebrows furrowed in shock as you stared into those eyes that had kept you company all these years. 

He was alive and standing before you, his grip unbelievably tight as you felt hot tears well in your eyes. Your mouth opened and closed for a moment, relief and disbelief mixing in a confusing cocktail.

“Eris…” You breathed, the tears now flowing freely. “It is you.”

The binds of fire vanished around your legs as he pulled you into a crushing hug, breathing in the scent of your hair as you broke down in his arms. You tried to touch every part of him, feeling the muscles in his back before moving to grasp his hair. 

Words could not describe what you were feeling, what he was feeling, but they were not needed. The wind picked up around the two of you, leaves twirling around in a dance of harmony as you both sunk to your knees and held each other for who knows how long.

Any questions either of you had were on the back burner. For now, you wanted to stay in this moment with him forever. 

[alltoolewis]

Love Bug- Mason Mount ✨

I did try and post this yesterday but it kept glitching & the tags aren't working 🙃 So 2nd times the charm! Haven't written much for daddy mount before so this was new... but I sort of loved it lol! Hope you enjoy 💛

Summary- When Mason comes back from the England camp, he finds you and your little one a lot needier than he left...

Prompt- "Aww did you miss me..?

"When's daddy back...?" Your daughter, Sienna, asked for the tenth time that hour. You tried your best to distract her with her dolls and her favorite TV show on the telly, but nothing was working... she wanted to see her daddy, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't either! It was safe to say you were both missing Mason's affection after being without him for almost 2 weeks... it has been the longest time you'd been apart since the euros and all you wanted was for him to be back at home and in your arms.

"Shouldn't be long now honey.." You sighed, picking her up and putting her on your knee "How about we make some cookies for him yeah?" Sienna immediately nodded at your suggestion, dashing off the to the kitchen as she already started planning what flavours to do... The sad truth was at this point you were willing to do anything to stop the excitement from becoming too much... you needed a distraction just as much as your 4-year-old did, that's how needy you had become!

You didn't hear the door shutting as you both danced away to Encanto! His heart burst at the scene in front of him, both of you giggling away singing, totally oblivious to his return. "Having fun without eh?" He chuckled as your heads whipped around so quick, you swore you could see stares. "DADDY!" Sienna yelled, pouncing on him as she wrapped her arms around "Hello princess... you okay?"

"I missed you..." She whispered in his neck, causing his heart to break "I missed you too baby..." Looking up, his eyes caught yours where you were eagerly waiting to give him a hug. You wanted to join in on the moment, but the mother in you was stopping you... knowing just how much your little girl has waited to be in here daddy's arms, you were willing to wait a little longer "Hey... mummy told me on the phone last night, that nanny & grandad got you some new toys!"

"They did!" She gasped, already pulling out of his arms to go get them "They are so cool, there's a doggy and kitty & a doll that looks just like mummy!" "ooooooo" Mason gasped, tickling her sides "How about you get them, while I say hello to mummy, then we'll go watch Encanto & eat some of those amazing cookies I can smell!" Without hesitation, she shot out of the kitchen, leaving just you and him alone... something you have been craving for a while...

"My turn...?" You giggled excitedly, causing him to let out a low chuckle at your childishness "It's your turn... come here lovebug!" Almost as quick as Sienna you leaped in his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist almost taking you both out. "aww, did you miss me?" Mason teased, yelping a little as you bit his neck playfully "Not funny mase..." You groaned, looking up at him with tears in your eyes "You have no idea!"

"Oh I do.." He smiled, carrying you over to the couch to cuddle you properly, finally putting your lips on his "Because I missed you just as much!" Pecking your nose, before your daughter came barging in, interrupting the two of you with all her toys in her arms...

The rest of the day was spent just like that, you and Mason cuddled up on the couch as Sienna told him everything he had missed the past 2 weeks. & although he knew he should have been listening to her, he was too lovestruck in his own bubble to fully understand what she was talking about... having you back in his arms and his little girl in front him was all he needed, it was all wanted!

Once the overall excitement of her daddy's return at gone, Sienna finally settled down on his lap, eventually nodding off. "How about I get this one ready for bed, while you run us a bath..." Mason whispered, already lifting the little girl up as you nodded your head "Okay." You smiled, pecking his lips and Sienna's head "Which bath bomb do you want?" Since you first started all those years ago, Mason had grew a sucker for one of your lush bath bombs, even stealing them for his own personal baths much to your dismay...

"Sex bomb..." He winked, before walking out of the room ready to put his little girl to bed so he could celebrate his return with just you. Don't get him wrong, he loved being a dad more than anything in the world, being responsible for a little girl who was the perfect mash of the two you couldn't make him prouder. But that didn't mean he didn't miss your old nights alone when he returned, both of you getting lost in love and lust without the fear of Sienna interrupting you or hearing it. So when he turned around after tucking her in to find you stood there wrapped up in your gown, his matching folded on your arm ready for him to take... he couldn't get out there quick enough. Muttering one last quick goodnight to his sleeping daughter head before he whisked you off your feet, carrying you into the bathroom as you both got carried away with love like the old days...

"That was fun..." You sighed, climbing off him as you crawled into his open arm, letting him engulf you in a hug "It was indeed." Mason smirked, kissing the top of your head as you both started to drift off into sleep... that was until the sounds of your daughter's cries could be heard, causing Mason to immediately shoot up. You couldn't help but giggle as he climbed out of bed, desperately searching for his shirt and underpants. Leaning over the bed he kissed your lips softly "Be right back gorgeous... daddy duties calls!"

Shooting you one last wink as he left the room he smiled "Try not to miss me to much love bug... or do if it means doing that!"

"Oh shut up & go help Sienna before I fall asleep without ya!"

[the-widow-sisters]

I Adore You

Summary: Three times that Yelena is caught staring at Natasha adoringly and one time that Natasha is caught staring at Yelena.

Word Count: 3.9k+

A/N: I know someone recently requested some widow sisters stuff, so I decided to try my best to muster up the gump to write one, and here we are, lol 😅 Hopefully I haven't lost my touch with these two 😅😬💖

I hope y'all enjoyed!!! Any positive comments are super encouraged and always welcome! 💗💗💗💗

  It was never an uncommon occurrence for Yelena to look at Natasha as if she positively hung the moon, stars, and everything else in the sky, but given the fact that they had not had a lot of quality time to spend together lately, it was the first time in a while that Natasha had the opportunity to fully take it in.

  They were sitting together watching a movie, the both of them on the couch in their little old house. It was Encanto, and despite the fact that they had seen it far too many times, Yelena was still obsessed since it came to streaming services, so they had to watch it at least occasionally for all to remain right in the world.

  But by the time that they had started on the second song of the movie, Yelena had laid down on the couch, her head in Natasha’s lap.

  Natasha had started to absently stroke Yelena’s hair, the strands soft against Natasha’s fingers. She played gently with the somewhat darkened roots along Yelena’s scalp at the top of her head.

  However, after a moment, she quickly realized that Yelena’s face was directed straight up instead of to the side in the direction of the television.

  After a moment, Natasha looked down to where Yelena’s head was in her lap. To her surprise, Yelena was just staring straight up at her, her eyes practically glowing as a soft smile remained on her face. She was looking at Natasha so painfully softly that it took her off-guard just a little.

  Yelena always did have a tendency to be able to have that effect on Natasha, even after a couple of years down the road since they had started living together and had grown so inseparably close.

  Natasha touched her face, the back of her knuckles affectionately brushing Yelena’s cheeks, and something more mischievous suddenly entered Yelena’s gaze as she chuckled. Natasha noted the change with some surprise, thinking of how she was going to surreptitiously broach that subject.

  Therefore, she decided to take the playful route, not right away pointing out that Yelena was doubtlessly up to something.

  Natasha huffed, raising an eyebrow.

  “The movie not entertaining you enough, Rooskaya?” Natasha questioned softly. Yelena moved her hand dismissively, moving her hand at the television.

  “I’ve seen it a thousand times,” Yelena declared. Natasha hummed in response before following up with an actual response.

  “And I’m somehow more entertaining than the movie?” Natasha checked, and Yelena shrugged.

  “Well, you mouthing the words to the songs is definitely entertaining,” Yelena pointed out, a grin on her face, and Natasha furrowed her brow.

  “I don’t mouth the words,” Natasha tried to argue, and Yelena chuckled, the noise heartfelt and deep. It was adorable and Natasha had to fight back the smile threatening to overtake her face.

  “You do,” Yelena persisted.

  “I don’t,” Natasha insisted, not sure she could remember a single time that she had done that. Granted, Encanto songs were catchy, but she had not mouthed the words.

  “Ah, you do. But it’s okay. I wouldn’t mind if you sang with the movie,” Yelena acknowledged, trying to sound nonchalant despite the fact that there was an obvious request in her voice.

  Natasha met her eyes, and she could see the unasked question in her eyes. Natasha sighed softly, allowing her smile to finally consume her features as she playfully covered Yelena’s eyes with her hand.

  “We’ll see, little one,” Natasha stated simply, but her tone was that of agreeance. Yelena playfully angled her head back to bump her nose into Natasha’s hand but there was a definitive grin on her face and sparkle in her eyes as she peered at Natasha from underneath the redhead’s hand.

  “Can you sing it with the Spanish accents and everything?” Yelena asked, and Natasha halfheartedly scoffed, the both of them knowing all too well that she did not mean it.

  “Don’t push your luck.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

  The second time it happened was in the compound common room.

 “The Midwest is way smaller than that,” Carol declared lazily, and Natasha looked up from her work at her computer, taking in the sight of Yelena and Carol resting on the couch not too far off. They had just come in from their usual run that they took every day, and they had somehow gotten on the topic of the Midwest and its magnitude with Yelena claiming that it was large and Carol claiming it was small.

  “No, it’s really not,” Yelena told her, and Carol just huffed.

  “How do you know? You’ve never been,” Carol told her, sounding primarily amused despite Yelena negating her every word about the place that Carol knew better than any of them.

  “I lived there for three years of my life!” Yelena argued, her voice getting high-pitched and almost becoming a whine as she tried to communicate her point to the taller blonde. Natasha could not help a smile both for the memories of those three good years and for how adorable Yelena sounded at this point.

  “When you were a toddler or what?” Carol questioned.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Yelena somewhat grumpily shot back.

  “Definitely when you were a toddler, then,” Carol nodded with a tone that indicated that she was making some sort of mental note. Yelena just stared at her before starting to try to protest once more.

  “Look, the Midwest is expansive!” Yelena declared, and Carol did not seem overly convinced or nearly as bothered as Yelena seemed about the whole thing.

  “Maybe it is, but there’s only like three states,” Carol informed her coolly, and Yelena furrowed her brow, instantly making a move to correct her.

  “No, there’s—”

  “Potatoes, Corn, and Cheese,” Carol calmly informed her.

  “No—”

  “Okay, okay, look, wanna know a secret, short stack?” Carol asked, her voice indicating that she was finally having mercy on Yelena. Natasha could not help but smirk a little, the whole thing being rather humorous despite the fact that she herself had a bit of a soft spot for the Midwest.

  “What?” Yelena asked, sounding somewhat exasperated, and Carol smirked she leaned in closer, offering a stage whisper.

  “I’m from the Midwest, too. I’ve been messing with you this whole time, Squishmeister,” Carol assured her, and Yelena just stared at her for a moment before letting out a breath of irritation both on account of the nickname and the fact that Carol had been just getting her wound up the whole time.

  “Then why are you making fun of it?” Yelena questioned, the wind out of her sails just a bit as she calmed down.

  “Look, my allegiance is not really to a place because I’m good pretty much anywhere I go. It’s more the people that I’m with,” Carol confessed, and Yelena raised an eyebrow as she looked at her. Natasha watched them over the top of her laptop, her heart warming as she listened to the two of them.

  “So you really wouldn’t care if you were living down in the muck in some swampland or something?” Yelena questioned, and Carol shrugged with a chuckle.

  “Nah. I’ve been in Louisiana before, and it wasn’t that big of a deal. A lot of mosquitos and stuff, but the countryside was absolutely gorgeous,” Carol explained, and Yelena just looked at her carefully, taking in her words.

   After a few minutes of silence, Yelena looked at her strangely.

  “So you are one of those twenty-four-karat co—”

  “No,” Carol cut her off before she even got to the end of that statement.

  Natasha snorted in spite of herself as she remembered the words from some movie she had watched a long while back. While Natasha and even Yelena were by far no experts on slang words native to areas other than New York, she knew exactly what Yelena had been about to say.

  Yelena grinned widely as she looked over at Natasha, her eyes adoring and just as painfully soft as they had been the other night, and Natasha could not help her chuckles as Carol looked positively shocked. Yelena was undeniably exceedingly proud of herself, and Natasha could not help her slight smile at the younger woman’s antics.

  Yelena’s face was so easy for Natasha to read and when her eyes were on Natasha, they almost always bore that sense of affection but sometimes, it was painfully and completely shocking with just how strong it was.

  “Where did you even hear that?!” Carol demanded, surprise in her tone, and Yelena smirked knowingly.

  “From your sweet little niece the other day when she was on the phone with you,” Yelena pointed out, and Carol instantly just gaped at Yelena in surprise.

  “Yeah, I was listening,” Yelena owned up to it proudly, looking between Carol and Natasha as she alternated between reveling in her victory against Carol and enjoying the fact that she was making Natasha laugh.

  “Look, it’s more okay for Monica to say that because she’s actually from Louisiana, alright?” Carol told her, and it was then that she noticed Yelena looking over at Natasha proudly. Carol quickly caught up with what was happening, and she suddenly had a smirk of her own.

  “Hey, look at me when we’re having a good argument. Making heart-eyes at your other favorite, fearless hero isn’t going to save you,” Carol told her smugly, and it was only that comment that fully pulled Yelena’s gaze away from Natasha.

  “My other hero?! Who’s the first hero?” Yelena demanded, not knowing where Carol was going but already not loving the sounds of it.

  “Well, obviously me because we hang out so much. You and Kamala both,” Carol trailed off, feigning a tiredness. Yelena started to reply to her and try to shoot something back, but she stopped for a moment, homing in on one particular phrase.

  “Wait… Have you watched the new Puss in Boots movie?!” Yelena questioned suddenly, and Carol paused. Natasha watched her. For a brief moment, there was something that looked guilty in Carol’s gaze, but it quickly was hidden by a nonchalance that was just persistent enough to seem forced.

  “No, why would you ask that?”

  “Your favorite, fearless hero?” Yelena pointed out, and Carol just looked at her for a moment. She then, as gracefully as she could manage, replied to her.

  “I’ve got a fondness for orange cats. There’s nothing wrong with that,” Carol tried to answer her as coolly as possible, and Yelena instantly cackled with utter glee, finding a new opportunity to mess with the older woman.

  Natasha rolled her eyes, the two’s antics warming her heart. She did not miss, however, how Yelena’s eyes continued to find her own, a warmth sparkling in them as she eagerly waited to see Natasha’s amusement as it came.

  And that only served to bring more warmth glowing in her chest.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

  The third time was in a completely odd setting from when Natasha was used to seeing such looks from her.

  “‘It was a busy day in the Hundred Acre Wood. Everyone was getting ready for a big picnic with Christopher Robin,” Natasha started the story, her arm around Nate as he leaned against her while she read.

  Natasha and Yelena had come to visit the Bartons and Natasha had offered to put the kids to bed by popular demand. The kids always loved it when she would come upstairs and read Nate a bedtime story. She always had the most imaginative voices for the characters, and also, her regular reading voice was always so soft and warm, and it was something that captured the attention of them all.

  Currently, they were upstairs reading the chosen bedtime story of the night. It happened to be a Winnie the Pooh book, and all of the kids including Yelena were perched on the bed in some way or another despite the fact that Nate’s bed was not terribly big. It was a full mattress size bed, and while it was plenty large for him, it was difficult to fit three kids and the widow sisters.

  Especially when two of the three kids were nearly full-grown, and Yelena, a kid herself, was definitely full-grown.

  Nate was nestled directly next to Natasha, and Lila was resting directly on the other side of him as she listened to the book, her body stretched down the length of the mattress. Cooper was laying across the foot of the bed perpendicularly to Natasha and Lila. Yelena was somehow squeezed in between Cooper’s side and Natasha’s crossed legs as she listened and watched Natasha over the top of the book she was holding.

  “Rabbit was bringing his famous carrot stew, Owl had his stories, and Eeyore was bringing a blanket,” Natasha turned the page as she reached the next set of characters that were participating in the picnic, and Nate watched carefully, alternating between looking at Natasha and the book in hand.

  “Kanga and Roo were bringing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Tigger had some balloons, and Piglet was bringing some pie,” Natasha continued to list, and everyone was watching her as if it were the most riveting of shows.

  It was not so much that the kids were obsessed with the book, but more that they loved the way that Natasha told stories. Her voice was perfect for reading.

  Yelena especially was watching closely, her eyes glued to Natasha as she remained silent and listened to every rise and fall of her breaths as well as the gentle symphony of her voice while it read the lines of the book.

  “But there was one big problem,” Natasha trailed off as she turned the page quickly to further the dramatic effect of her statement.

  “Pooh had lost what he was going to bring!” Natasha read, her voice lilting upward just a bit as she kept her voice soft but imitated an exclamation.

  Yelena smiled briefly as she took it in.

  “‘Oh, bother… I’ve lost my hunny!’” Natasha read aloud, doing Winnie the Pooh’s voice as well as she could manage, and Nate instantly laughed. Lila could not help sharing a wide grin with Yelena, and Cooper laughed a little, too, simply because of how silly the sound was.

  Natasha grinned to herself as she continued the book.

  “‘Oh, where, oh, where could my hunny be?!’” she read, trying her best to be a good Pooh.

  “‘Hoohoohoohoo!!!’” Natasha tried to sound like Tigger, and instantly all of the kids burst into laughter, including Yelena. Natasha had to concentrate all of her thoughts on the book to keep from breaking character, but she did allow herself a small grin and a wobble of the lips as laughter threatened to pour from her.

  “‘Don’t worry, Pooh-Bear! I’ll help you find your Hunny! Or my name isn’t T-I-Double Guh-R!’” Natasha managed to keep a straight face for long enough to say. Like a trooper, however, she continued to maintain her level voice.

  It was then that she happened to look up from her book page to glance at Yelena and Cooper. Her eyes swept over Cooper’s facial expression, proudly taking in his amused grin, but she paused as she looked at Yelena.

  She was looking at her, her head propped up on a hand as she watched the older woman. Her lips were a little pursed from where her cheek was squished by her hand, but her eyes were positively glowing with complete, unadulterated adoration.

  It was like Natasha had cast a spell on her, and her entire being was solely focused on Natasha. Her sole reason for living, existing, and even maintaining mere consciousness was for Natasha herself. It was enough to almost bring tears to Natasha’s eyes at the sight of the pure love that only a younger sibling could hold in their heart.

  But she forced the tears away, mustering a brief but loving smile at her baby sister as she proceeded to keep reading for the kids.

  And, of course, for the big kid Yelena.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

  However, one day, it was not Yelena that had the adoring expression, but rather vice versa.

  “Ugh… Why can’t I pay attention to anything today?!” Kate whined unhappily, her voice carrying easily from the common room.

  Yelena was not too far off from the conversation but she was barely paying attention. She was currently focused on the television, and she was practicing at the latest video game that Peter had come up with. After all, she could not let the boy get away with kicking her butt just because he had more experience.

  “Must be that ADHD kicking in again,” Darcy pointed out in reply to Kate, laughing a little, and Yelena could hear the smirk in her voice as she made the comment.

  Yelena instantly zeroed in on that statement. She could hardly hear anything else outside of the words that were now ringing in her head as red rage started to overtake her senses.

  Darcy was making fun of Kate? As much as Yelena could not believe it, she was not about to stand for it regardless of who it was coming from. Her head snapped to the side as she glared directly at Darcy.

  The little nerd had not even realized that Yelena was looking at her and had caught her in the act. Therefore, Yelena paused her game swiftly, standing up as she made her anger more pronounced.

  “Hey! What did you say?!” Yelena raised her voice, striding over quickly as she looked Darcy directly in the eye.

  “Uh… Her ADHD’s kicking in?” Darcy questioned uncertainly, obviously not sure why this was a big deal, and Yelena’s jaw instantly set. She shouldered Kate out of the way, and while it was not gentle, it was not a rough movement either and it did not really hurt her.

  Kate looked completely shocked at the fact that Yelena was defending her, but Yelena largely ignored her as she prepared to tell Darcy exactly what she thought. She was extremely tempted to simply punch her, but she was doing her best to hold back on her more violent tendencies, knowing that Natasha likely would not be happy when word eventually got back to her.

  Darcy was surprised also, and she was currently trying to lean away from Yelena just a bit, looking at her as if she had sprouted two extra heads.

  “You have a problem with her having ADHD? Want to make fun of it again to my face?!” Yelena demanded, her mind filled with nothing but pure fury and fire as she got in Darcy’s face. Darcy raised her hands, trying to calm Yelena down.

  “Woah, woah, cool down some!” Darcy attempted to placate her, and Yelena snarled, the fact that Darcy was trying to calm her down making her even more angry.

  “Cool down?! I will show you—”

  “Yelena, Yelena, it’s okay,” Kate quickly tried to stop her, moving around Yelena once she had managed to get ahold of herself from the shock overtaking her mind.

  Yelena just stared at her, rage still clawing at her heart and the heat prickling at her skin. Kate shook her head, trying to keep herself between Darcy and Yelena.

  “I told her it was okay to make jokes like that. She’s okay,” Kate tried to assure her, and Yelena looked at her with some confusion as she stared the both of them down.

  A few beats passed, and Darcy finally regained her nerve.

  “That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Darcy unhelpfully supplied as she raised up on her toes to put her chin on Kate’s shoulder. Kate glanced at her quickly with a fleeting smile before looking back at Yelena somewhat nervously.

  Yelena looked between the both of them wordlessly, deciphering whether Kate was just trying to keep her from jumping the glasses-clad girl or if she genuinely meant the words. However, after a few more moments of silence, Yelena made her verdict, and she loosened significantly, letting out a scoff.

  “You watch yourself, Lewis,” Yelena grumbled, not truly aggressive at this point but still offering her a warning as she started to back away and turn around.

  Kate suddenly started to smile goofily as she truly realized what had just transpired.

  “Wait… You were going to defend me?” Kate questioned, and Yelena just huffed, rolling her eyes.

  “Don’t get excited. It’s part of the job description,” Yelena dismissed, and Darcy narrowed her eyes, getting far too much enjoyment out of this one.

 “Which one? Being one of her big sister figures or—”

  “The Avenger job,” Yelena cut her off, and Darcy raised an eyebrow.

  “Last time I checked, Avengers don’t defend people from simple words,” Darcy astutely pointed out, and Yelena scoffed.

  “Look, they do not let injustice happen, okay? Now go back to talking and making fun of each other’s situations,” Yelena waved them off. She turned around more fully and that was when she made eye contact with Natasha who had been apparently watching her the entire time.

  Natasha was looking at her with an expression that could only be described as utterly adoring, and it took Yelena off-guard a little. Those light greens were shining gently but surely, and it was one of those looks that had all of the pride, affection, protectiveness, and just love that Natasha felt toward Yelena.

  It was such a sweet expression, and although Yelena had seen it before, it nevertheless always got to her and made her heart leap with love and excitement at the fact that she had somehow earned this look.

  She stared at her big sister for a few moments, unsure what to think. And finally, because she was utterly lost as to what brought it on, she spoke up.

  “What are you looking at, poser?” Yelena finally settled on saying with a bit of a huff, and Natasha’s smile just grew, her head dipping just a little as she looked up at Yelena lovingly.

  “I saw you defending Kate.”

  “Ugh… Lewis was just being stupid and you know how Katie-Bear is,” Yelena dismissively told her, trying not to make a huge deal out of it despite the huge deal that it had indeed been.

  Natasha raised an eyebrow, moving closer to her as she took her face in her hands and delivered a soft kiss to Yelena’s nose. Yelena just looked at her in confusion but adoration all the same, and Natasha raised an eyebrow.

  “We both know why you did it. I’m just proud of you for doing it without any reason to,” Natasha expressed, and Yelena pushed her head forward, keeping Natasha from moving away too far as she moved so that their foreheads were pressed into one another.

   The unspoken “or without me around” was heavily implied, and Yelena could hear it just as clearly as if Natasha had actually spoken it. But nevertheless, she was pleased that Natasha was so happy with her even though she had been caught being protective toward Kate Bishop.

  “Look, it’s… I’m supposed to protect her,” Yelena left it at that, hoping Natasha could just read between the lines and would not make it into a bigger deal than it had to be.

  The way that Natasha was looking at her said it all, Yelena reading the implicit understanding and affection in her eyes, and she knew she could let the nervousness dissipate as she loosened in Natasha’s hold.

  “I know, sweet girl.”

[argent-l-p]

Facets of a Shattered Memory II

Series based on my interpretation of the Encanto Madremonte AU by the lovely @c-rose2081

Pt. 1

Summary: Starting from where part one left off, we get a look into Isa's life following her escape from Casita and what the next five years of her life were like.

WARNINGS: Blood, Violence, Injury, And A Bit of Death

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The first thing that came to her was a memory, it was the only thing that she could say with certainty was the first thing she could remember. It was dark, voices were speaking above her and she was being held. In her ear sounded a choir speaking in unison, the voice high and like the rustling of trees “Amor, cuando despiertes el mundo será un lugar nuevo, pero necesitas saber esto. Tu eras amada, tan amada que no lo podemos describir.” 

Another voice, lower with the sound of rumbling mountains echoed below it, “Tu nombre es Isa, nosotras the llamamos Amor. Tu eres nuestra y nosotros somos tuyas, nunca dudes eso.” 

She felt movement at her side and a hand stroke her cheek before she woke up for the first time. 

(Months of waiting, the heavens holding their breath as the hour draws closer, the jungle quiet in the space where glass shards fused with molten gold, the result buried beneath their roots waiting to wake up as the body is changed.) 

It was warm, not suffocatingly so, but enough that her body melted into a languid stretch, slow and pleased. She could feel the soft bedding beneath her and the dips of whatever lay beneath the barrier, it was firm and unyielding, but the nest added a softness for her aching body to relax into. Time felt like it stood still and passed so slowly all at once, the only suggestion of it going by was the feeling of the arm trapped under her body falling asleep. 

Oh.  

What a wonder. 

It was feeling that came to her first, muscles unused for so long aching as bones moved from their place of rest, the stretch of her body triggering sensation and she felt the soft friction of plants against her skin. She noted the gaps in sensation and moved her hand down to feel where her thigh met her hip, feeling the difference in texture and the way it would not bend under the force of her fingers. She felt where it began and where it ended and, in her heart, she knew this was something good; Something meant to keep hurt far and away from her, though she didn’t quite know why she knew, only that she did. 

(Somewhere in the depths of her mind, an echo of a forgotten emotion drifted like smoke. The faintest after image of someone's wail and the pulling on her body. As sudden as its emergence it flickered, pulled into golden light, and before it could be registered it was gone.) 

The tearing of the leaves beneath her body brought sound to her ears and with great speed her hands clapped soundly over her ears. It was so loud, the texture of the noise itself grating on her newly awoken senses before she slowly pulled them away, adjusting to the new input. As she sat up and opened her eyes for the first time, they moved in tandem with her ears, and it startled her to feel the muscles move of their own accord. With slightly unsteady fingertips she brushed along the shell and traced their pointed shape, wondering at the newness if her own body. Her eyes never stopped tracking her surroundings, it was dark and dim, but as she began to look for the source of light illuminating the space, she realized that there was none and that she could still see despite it. 

It was at this moment that she heard the faintest whisper next to her ear and even if it was sudden, all she felt was love and warmth and gold- 

“Levántate Amor. Te tienes que levantar para ver las estrellas.” 

And in her mind, she saw a vast expanse of dark blue skies and hundreds upon thousands of lights filling everywhere she could see. That was something she knew she had to see, a deep-seated longing to greet that which felt like a promise connecting her to the light-ridden sky. Determination filled her and blood roared in her ears as she pushed herself up, a slight snarl forming in her lips as she began to look for a way out of her ben of vines and leaves. It was then that she heard the singing for the first time, moving from the subtle notes it had been only seconds before to an ascending choir, rising in volume until it was all she could hear. 

Isa looked down and there under bare feet were coiling vines, some coming from her skin and others from the roots she had been cradled in, climbing up her legs. She could hear them as if they were only an extension of her soul and if she focused her sight on them, she could faintly see golden strings tangling in the movement of their length. Within her she felt something stir, a primal knowledge that they would move if she told them to, not just the vines but the roots of whatever it was that they came from, and with that she pulled on the golden light within her watched as her surroundings exploded into sudden movement all at once. 

The vines sighed and wrapped tightly around her as the roots rose in unison, their laughter low, their creaking heralding the opening of the ceiling above and then there was light.  

It wasn’t bright by any means, no, but soft and ghostly. She watched, her pupils dilating, as the light grew larger and the opening wider, until she could crawl out and then her senses were filled with the sounds of a choir’s breathy laughter and fond sighs. It was intense and she closed her eyes to center herself and then looked up into the dark sky and marveled at the sight of golden chords stringing the stars together. 

(In the spaces that were and yet were not, the heavens finally quieted the remaining wails of the mourning stars. They looked down at the girl who had been mortal and yet was now more Other, more like them, than her kin. They saw golden eyes where there had been the brown of her mother and her skin was covered in the Jungle and the Earth’s claim.) 

As the world took its first breath in the aftermath of what was avoided, a child and those who loved her stood at the beginning of a path that fate had not touched. Far away in a living house, a mother held the remains of her daughter's clothing to her chest and mourned a life lost. Months of waiting for news ending in the tragedy of her loss, but in the wake of this pain a new future began to form. The golden light in the woman’s womb pulsed and the child’s fate was linked firmly to the stargazer in the mountains. 

(The stars looked down and for a moment their light twinkled in concert across the sky, light dancing across the world. The road would not be easy, they saw, but in the grand tapestry of their world this change in what was to come was better than it had been before.) 

Isa’s ear flicked over to listen to something beside her ear and with one last final glance at the sky above, she moved deep into the forest, quickly disappearing. The only thing giving away what had happened in the clearing was the still open hole in the ground and then it began to close as the animals in the surrounding vegetation began to sing again. It was when the moon above began to dip from its zenith that everything returned to how it had been only hours before, and the only marking left was the overturned dirt at the roots of the tree. 

(Sometimes, a child lives, and the world grieves for one less person lost to fate.)  

As the days passed, Isa learned how to traverse her surroundings, gradually moving like the predator she had become. On hands and feet, she learned to stalk as the jaguars did and in the trees, she adapted their movements. Weeks passed and then a month went by, her mind and body adjusting to the world around her, but all throughout it, she could hear the gentle singing all around her as she ran through the green and when night came, she could hear that sweet voice again, a guide. 

“Mira la manera que se mueven mi Amor. Mira como sus garras se encajan en el arbol y haz lo también.” 

“Mi pequeno amor, ven al agua. Necesitas tomar algo, te va dar sed.” 

“Ven y siéntate en el sol, Isa. Te va ser bien.” 

It was always there when she needed to be reminded of her own limits and to teach her as she learned, sometimes layered with a deep bass from below or the whisper of another woman’s voice. They never scared her, not ever, instead it felt like the gentle caress of sunlight against her skin and every time it happened, she could feel the golden chords inside of her chest sway and she saw the plants around her grow. It fascinated her to no end, doing whatever she could to prolong the sight and the feeling, sometimes hours would pass by as her want for this was indulged. 

In some part of her soul, she felt like she should be ashamed of asking for this attention and in turn felt embarrassed for the time she spent lounging in it, but that thought was swept away before it could even reach full formation, the choir around her crooning assurances; she was a child still and none of what she wanted was too far out of reach. What she didn’t know was that as she slept in the cradles woven for her high up in the canopy, the Jungle raged and seethed as she restrained herself from bringing her wrath upon the head of Alma Madrigal. Her counterpart, the Earth, rumbled lowly green eyes sparking with the light of molten rock and far away, a volcano erupted slowly.  

(A constellation darkened for the grief they held for child who should never have felt wrong for wanting to be loved. Already her desperation for the slightest loving touch was enough to make them weep, a feeling echoed by their brothers and sisters around them.) 

The day came, months after emerging from that primordial womb, that she noticed a pattern with her surroundings. Without conscious thought she had been moving the plants around her at times when she needed them to follow her will; They were independent, yes, but they answered when she called.  

When it came time for her to learn about the gold in her chest, she listened as they told her to close her eyes and gasped as she felt the chords vibrate as if on the other end they had been plucked and played. It was different and new, but it felt right. Like whatever was doing it meant only to help and did so with love and care and warmth- 

From her right she heard the singing rise and fall, a voice breaking through the sound, telling her to focus and when she did, a rush of power coursed through her. It was warm and gold, chords sinking into her soul for the first time to bring forth the feeling of the tree beneath her and the branch she sat on, but only for a moment as she was brought back to focus on the chorus around her and the sweet voice calling her attention.  

She tugged when they told her to and imagined the branch she sat on bloom, fruit developing on imagined buds, heavy and ripe for picking. When she opened her eyes, she saw her vision made reality. Where the very end of the wood hung over open air, a white blossom began to rapidly form, its petals opening and from it, fruit grew. She had only enough time to register its rapid swell in size, when she realized it would fall under its own weight and lunged forward to catch it. The momentum of her movement almost sent her completely over the reach of the branch, but in the second it took for her doubt to manifest, she was caught by the branch rising beneath her.  

Fruit clutched in one hand and her opposite arm wrapped around the sturdy branch beneath, wide eyes looked down at what she made grow. Golden eyes lit up and a sharp grin spread across her face to replace the initial shock. She sat up as carefully as she could while observing the object in her hand and when she was sure she had balanced herself well, she took the fruit in both hands and brought it up close to her face. For a moment a hesitation came over her. What if it hurt her? She had not needed to eat since emerging from the nest and when she had needed to recuperate, only when she was truly exhausted, she laid where the sun graced the earth until she felt her energy return and drank water from the rivers when she felt thirsty. Even then, it was only when it was needed, so far only having done so twice in the months since being awoken, her exhaustion forcing her to rest and lightly doze in golden rays. 

Lost in thought, she didn’t hear the giggling and fond sighs until she felt the slightest nudge, bringing her hand and the fruit closer to her mouth. Startled, she glanced towards where she felt gentle pressure, but saw nothing where familiar fingers pressed into bark and skin, the beginnings of vines growing ever to slightly. In the breeze she heard her protector murmur, “No tengas miedo, mi amor. Puedes comer.” 

And when she still hesitated, gentle hands cupped around her own and lips pressed to the crown of her head, the fruit brought to her mouth, and she took her first bite of food. At first, the skin of the fruit almost made her jerk back in surprise, the almost dry taste enough for her to not eat, but her canine pierced the barrier and suddenly something sweet dripped onto her tongue. Suffice to say she didn’t drop the fruit, but bit into it fully, pushing past the initial taste and tasting the meat inside and later when she climbed up into the trees to see where she was going, she noticed pollen falling from little flowers on her thigh. 

That was the first time she ate something of substance and though she didn’t need to eat at all, she still ate a bit every day. It was odd, she knew that the animals around her ate frequently, sometimes she would see predators taking kills larger than their bodies to eat in peace, but she never felt the hunger that they did. Did not feel the need to look for food the sate a pain in her stomach or to sink her teeth into something to bring a kill down, a predator without the need to feed. Isa was still young though, often being herded around by intangible forces and creaking trees, the plants around her hiding the small body learning to survive in a new world. 

Every moment spent under the vast star filled sky and weaving between ancient, sturdy trees brought its own lessons, but life is not always serene. Though the influence of the gods left Isa to learn her world, wide eyed wonder obscuring the inevitability of how the moments of life played out in dynamic melodies, a discordant note unavoidable. It came nearly a half year after the awakening, rain coming down on the canopy and thunder rumbling off in the distance clouds taking up the entire horizon. 

(A far-flung echo of a memory so faint only the vaguest feeling brought with it the notion of contained clouds and uniform weather. A childish chant of clear blue skies and the delighted shrieks of children playing in the sun, a whisper in the cry of the wind-) 

The crash of thunder and flash of lightning drew her attention above, the smell of rain and the coolness of the day enveloped her. She’d pulled herself up into the trees, the fog below obscuring her sight, only able to see so far ahead. Isa hummed as she set her sights on the far-off cliff-face, slightly hazy in the fog cover and mumbled to herself, her words carried off in the wind, “Ahi estas...” She’d been trekking for hours, the journey she’d been guided through longer than it would have been had she been older, often needing to stop, rest, and even eat more fruit to keep up her energy. That she’d made it this far, a third of the way, was a testament to how much she had grown in the past months. 

When she had awoken, she’d been akin to a newborn on shaky legs and sensitive senses, sometimes needing to be hidden away in a cocoon of secure vines when overwhelmed. Those early days were filled with rest, hidden by the jungle and the earth, listening to the chorus around her. As time had passed and she learned the limitations of her body, Isa had grown leaps and bounds, now able to traverse the landscape with occasional help from the roots and vines, having learned quickly that they followed her will after almost falling from a high tree and the entire tree having bent to cradle her. 

Another distant rumble shook Isa from her thoughts and she took a final glance to memorize the direction before scaling down and to the foggy jungle floor, her sight once again obscured and pointed ears flicking in all directions. With the canopy above already darkening the surroundings and the cloud cover overhead, it seemed as though the world had abruptly turned to night as she had reached the ground. With this is in mind she began to move forward, the world around her simply reduced to the sound of soft music, falling rain, and the passing vegetation. Maybe it was her inexperience with identifying distance through sound, the noise of thunder and rain, or simply a circumstance of being caught unawares, maybe a combination of them all, but Isa never noticed the pad of paws following her at a stalk. 

Isa was a predator, yes. Claws and canines were parts of her that she used, but she had never been in battle, she was young, inexperienced, and above all sheltered thus far in her existence; she was vulnerable, not unlike the young animals in the jungle, new to life and its challenges, but without someone to physically teach her despite her intangible choir. So, just like any other young animal, she was still prey to those so much more experienced than her. 

She didn’t have time to react, so it was when lightning flashed above, a small gap in the canopy allowing light to flash through, that she saw gleaming eyes and turned, eyes suddenly wide as she dropped low, watching the body of a jaguar leap over her. It yowled, a snarl pulling its lips back to reveal elongated fangs and she bared her own in return a sinister rattle erupting from her chest for the first time. It was sinister and it sounded like nothing like she’d ever heard before, but deep inside her, the gold in her soul burning and blinding, she knew that it was right.  

That same part of her, until then a slinking set of instincts from the shadows, began to stir and every part of her snarled at the threat being dealt. Quickly, that facet of her being woke up and suddenly she held her body with more grace, feet surer in their placement and muscles bunched up ready to spring; It was as if she had passed a threshold. The choir reached a crescendo, a pitch so high it felt like the stars themselves were singing and though she heard a note of distress in the song, she could also hear bolstering bass from the earth. 

It was then that her opponent visibly hesitated for a long moment, the change seen through its eyes letting her be seen as what she was; Something completely Other. But it was soon overcome and the hiss it let out as it bared its own fangs did not waver as eyes narrowed and fur stood on end. The plants growing in her skin shuddered and her ears pinned themselves to her skull, the space between herself and her opponent seeming to close until, like the lightning dancing above, they were on each other in seconds. 

(From above looking below, they saw what she did not feel, bark growing thicker like armor and where they cover her shoulders, it crawled up her neck. It covered her face in whorls, a mask and part of her body at the same time, meant to protect.) 

They collided with a slam, each gaining a violent purchase on the other and though the feline tried to snap down on her shoulder, Isa struck her hand into the side of its face. Where her nails had been sharp before, meant for the ease of climbing, they were dagger like now and the force of her strike sunk them deeply into their landing points. As it yowled, Isa’s grip grew tighter and her legs wrapped around its body, holding on as it began to move erratically, ignoring the hot pain of claws slicing into her back.  

It was only when they slammed into a tree that she let go and scrambled back, on her feet and hunched over golden eyes, a low and dangerous rumble vibrating deep in her chest. The jungle cat had backed up, staring at her and though the deep wounds on its face bled heavily, it did not falter and charged at her once again, its cry of challenge echoing off into the night. The fight did not end as quickly as it might have if Isa had been older and more experienced, but this heralded the beginning of who she would become and thought the jungle and her partner wanted to interfere, to help, the influence of fate held them back. 

Every blow was filed with sharp claws and the snap of teeth, bark crawling along Isa’s body, a slow growing armor that rose from her skin. There came a point where pain gave way to the numbing effects of adrenaline and she did not really feel the aching of her gained wounds, only feeling the way new ones appeared on her body as the battle went on. It became a blur of aggression and when she would later look back on the battle, she could not accurately say how long it lasted, only that she felt a bone deep tiredness. 

She’d had the upper hand for most of their battle having sliced three out of four legs to give her the benefit of its pain induced weakness. Where it seemed to struggle in the aftermath, she would worsen the injury count and she gained confidence when it continued to tire, but in her growing confidence she became blind to a fact she had witnessed so often; nothing was more dangerous than a cornered animal. Isa was doing well, yes, but she was so young, only really a child and by virtue she was not skilled in the art of combat nor defense. So, when she failed to see the desperation, failed to notice its gaze darting around and sharpening, she was not prepared for it to run into the vegetation. 

For a moment, she stood in disbelief and confusion, her tense stance loosening in the quiet. It took a few seconds before she realized that while the threat had disappeared, the nearby animals did not begin to vocalize and she began to turn slowly in a circle, eyes flickering from left to right trying to see movement and her ears followed suit. Isa’s. Heart began to beat faster than ever, the inability to locate where it had gone spurring her to panic and all she could hear was the blood roaring in her ears. 

Isa is young, a still inexperienced child in a world that had her fate tied to the land and the stars above. So, when she gave into panic and could not hear the movement above, the quiet growl of a stalking predator, the stars closed their eyes and her protectors held each other as it dropped onto her from above. She did not have time to run or dodge, only brace as she snapped her head up at the sound of a cracking branch and saw the danger coming from above. When they collided this time, it was the jaguar who had the advantage and sunk its teeth into her shoulder only barely stopped from reaching her neck by the instinctive reaction to flinch away from danger. 

Where before the adrenaline rush had prevented the pain felt in battle, it had passed enough that it could no longer shield her and she felt the blinding agony as claws tore at her thigh and fangs violently sunk into her. This was no longer a moment she had the upper hand; In this moment Isa became prey and she felt desperation leaking into her mind. All at once she began to thrash under the weight of her opponent, her right-hand balling into a fist to strike against its face as her left hand lay tensed in pain-induced paralysis. 

(Around her the choir wailed and the earth trembled as the child, their pequeno amor lay prone on the ground, fighting to stay alive, the hollow rattling of calls cutting off, replaced by shrieks. Their hands were bound by fate, the future waiting for what would happen next, but they called out to her as the crescendo finally crested and the golden chords grew taut, instinct taking over and her mind became sharp-)  

She did not think, not really. It was done in an instant, one moment crying out in pain and the next a sinister rattle echoing above the snarls on top of her. She did not really remember what happened clearly, only that her fear turned into rage and her hand was suddenly at its throat, claws piercing into tender flesh and her teeth cutting into its jugular vein, blood spilling onto her tongue. Isa felt it unlatch from her shoulder, a gag in its throat as it tried to get away, and she heard it give a gurgling cry as it tried to get her off. She did not let go as it slammed itself into the trees, only biting down harder and when it tried to go for her throat, she only held it away with her free hand, claws sinking into its face once again.  

It ends slowly, so different to how it started, but it ends all the same as blood continued to spill from her mouth onto the jungle floor, soaking into the earth. Golden eyes glowing behind a wooden mask slit, a dangerous focus and determination flooding them as she counted the seconds and stared up at the canopy above. The struggle begins to die down, its movements become sluggish, and where the sounds it was making had been normal until that point, they now held a wet gurgling quality to them. Isa kept counting, a steady rhythm, and when it gave a final spasm above her, it went limp. She waited and waited and waited, jaw still clenched around a mouthful of fur and covered in cooling blood until she felt and heard its heart stop beating, so close to its chest she could tell the exact moment it happened. It takes three hundred and ninety-five seconds, a little over four minutes she translates without thought, for it to end. 

Isa came back to herself slowly, like moving through tree sap, pushing the heavy body off until it slides to the side, but she doesn’t get up immediately. She laid there for what seemed like hours covered in the blood of her opponent and though a distant part of her felt like she should mourn, Isa in her entirety only felt relieved that she had survived. Propping herself up in one hand and clutching her thigh wound with the other, she lowly brought herself up to sit, gritting her teeth as pain flared sharply. Looking down at the cooling body beside her it suddenly registered that though she may have won this battle, she was covered in blood and the part of her that had woken up urged her to stand and leave, the scent of so much blood sure to bring in bigger things. Now taking in how small it was compared to others she had seen, she pushed herself up as fast as she feasibly could and began to move. 

With the urgency to get away, Isa remembered the cliff and the shelter she would have found there as she half-limped away, it may have been minutes or seconds, but at suddenly recalling what she’d been doing before her head swiveled left and right, looking for a clue as to where she was heading, ears listening for anything that may be coming toward her. Seeing nothing but green and thick jungle, she hissed in frustration moving a little faster until she heard moving water and almost throwing herself into the space as she stumbled over in her own pain. 

Stopping herself just before breaking out completely  into the open, Isa scanned the riversides and when she saw no animal nearby, she stumbled into the river. Holding her breath and closing her eyes as she ducked under the surface, she never saw the water wash away the now red water, too preoccupied with smoothing her hands down the places stained in red. The jungle around her tightened at the edges, restless to help and the plants in the water barred anything from coming towards her, still in the ways they should not be. It was only when her lungs began to burn for air that she rose to her knees and took a gasping breath, coughing up excess water and wincing at the sting of open wounds on her body. 

The haze of battle and the rush of new instincts began to fade, the rushing water seeming to sweep it away as her mind settled. The lightning overhead illuminated the sky above, its chaining branches stretching out like the roots of the trees and wind buffeted around her, dancing around to unheard music. In this moment sat in the river, soaked to the bone, and heaving for breath the light in Isa’s chest pulsed in time with the stars. For just a moment, Isa looked like the woman she would become, the future flickering over the present; a ghostly golden image of what was to come.  It could have been minutes, more than she must have registered really, but when she finally brought herself to equilibrium Isa hauled herself to her feet and marched towards the tree line. 

It didn’t matter that her body ached or that her blood began to run down her skin, all of that and more was shoved back as Isa climbed up on heavy limbs. She clenched her teeth as the wood contacted open wounds, but she soldiered on as she moved through the branches and into the canopy. It wasn’t quick, but when she crested the very last leaves, she breathed out a sharp sigh of relief as she saw the lightning illuminate the landscape. Sat there above the ground, she relaxed a little more and looked for the cliff she’d been heading towards before. She ignored the phantom feeling of claws and teeth cutting into her skin, looking this way and that until she caught sight of her destination and begun to move from branch to branch, willing each wooden limb reaching out for her to step on with so much focus she almost fell from the trees. 

Ever so slowly, she moved across the expanse of branches that remained between her and the cliffside, the flashing lighting the way as the storm continued to rumble above. The closer she got to where she needed to be, the taller the cliffside seemed to become and when she finally reached the base, its imposing height created a phantom pain in her arms, reminding her of days learning how to climb and run on shaky legs. She had come so far and though she knew that it was essential to reach the zenith of its height, where the jungle sung to her was safe, Isa also knew that she would not make it all the way, not yet. 

For a long moment, Isa stared up at the cliff and debated whether to find a different side with more handholds if she really had no choice but to climb, but then a small tugging on the gold in her chest caught her attention. Looking down at her feet, roots began to breach and cover the surface of the ground, starting to twine around her ankles. It was almost silly, the way Isa forgot about plants leaping to do her bidding, though her control was shaky and new. Hesitance to even think about committing to this plan warred against her creeping exhaustion, but as she looked up from the ground to the surroundings and the sky, Isa steeled herself and walked up to the rockface. 

Gently placing a hand off the cliff, Isa focused on the awareness of the plant life above and below, breathing deeply as golden chords laced themselves more firmly into her perception of the world around her. Recalling the way she connected to the tree, she let the power flow through her, the feeling so natural that she just knew that’s how it was meant to be and pushed her voice through to the waiting roots and branches.  

For a moment all was still and she thought that maybe it hadn’t worked, a crease forming on her brow as she whispered to the open air, “Por favor...” 

Then she heard the groaning and creaking of wood, loud and suddenly all around her as the trees began to lean down towards her, branches like the reaching arms of a loved one coming to lift her in the cradle of their hold. For the first time, the songs around her quieted and she heard something new begin to form and sing in time with the beating of her heart and harmonize with the rumbling of new instincts. As the branches reached her, they held still and Isa, worn to the bone and mind filled with new things to adjust to, stepped shakily onto it and told it to rise. Ascending the rocky wall, it felt like her heart was at once both beating with adrenaline and serene in the power she held, but overcoming all other feeling was joy. Joy that after so long walking she had reached her destination and joy at the thought of finally being able to rest from the battle she had been in, to heal her wounds in peace. 

Where the tree could not continue, roots broke from the earthen wall and lifted her farther as she stepped onto them, the rightness of the action spurring her faster and faster as a laugh bubbled up from her chest; It was exhilarating, it was exciting, and it felt like freedom. Reaching the very top, Isa stumbled a few steps forward and crashed to her knees, the brilliant high of her joy and the final remnants of her adrenaline fading to nothing but a effervescent bubbling as her mind began to fog over with her need to rest. 

(Something in the darkened night reveled in the unfettered feeling. Something that was denied and now reclaimed, laughed at the past and bared its teeth at the notion of being caged once again.) 

She would wake up hours later, wounds scabbing over, and new instincts woven into her being so thoroughly it was as if she had always had them. It would take time to relearn everything she had known before and even longer to learn about every new facet of herself, the day marking a year since Isa woke up in that dark cradle passing her by. The fight with the jaguar had taught her there were larger dangers than she was in this jungle and though she had won that fight, had clawed her way inch by inch to live, she was still young and inexperienced. The songs around her had changed just as she had, quieting itself to a low thrumming in the back of her mind for the most part, only a singular voice humming the melody louder than the rest. It spoke to her, taught her everything from the new perspective, steel hardening her voice and driven by worry, not that Isa knew that last part until many years later. 

It was arduous. 

Some days Isa would run for hours on end, a burst of energy burning through her and guiding her into a run, hours passing her by until she was caught in vines and roots. Little by little her stamina increased and alongside it, her strength as well.  By the time half a year passed since the jaguar, she could run farther and faster, though she most definitely was not the fastest thing around. Isa was still a child and even if she did have new instincts and had changed physically as well, her limitations had only slightly changed to accommodate the final transition into becoming more than she had been in the Before. Before waking up in the cradle, before knowing the melody of the jungle and the rumble of the earth beneath her feet, before knowing what it was to be cradled by a hundred different arms, before- 

(Memories that had tried to surface before, didn’t even make it to the surface as they lost their strength and surrendered to the dark, sinking down into the abyss where concrete memories were unmade into fragments of sense) 

Here in the valley where she had spent long hours dozing in the sun and watching the night sky change its image is where she grew into herself over the next few years, until one day, nearly three and a half years after having woken up, Isa saw something. 

Or should she say someone? 

It’d been from up and across a large gap in the trees that she had first seen someone that looked a bit like her, with warm skin a few shades darker than hers. It had startled her so much that she had nearly fallen from the nest of branches that she had been resting in, having grown far too big to even lay across a singular branch anymore. As it was, she had only just been able to use this method again, but she was never more grateful for the fact that the trees themselves would have warned her if she were in danger of falling. 

It was odd, like looking into the river and seeing half of herself in the body of another, but that description was wrong as well. From where she perched, she could hear noise coming from whoever this was and though she could catch snippets of words that she could understand there were some that sounded different that she had to take a moment to really figure out what they meant, like an echo of vague understanding. They were wearing colorful coverings so different from the fronds of leaves and bark that covered her own skin. 

They were shorter than her and though they seemed confident in their walk she could see that they had no muscle in their body to indicate a strength that would warrant it. It was quick and though she would have let them go, something told Isa that she needed to follow them, that the jungle was dangerous, and someone as ill prepared for it as them would be in danger just by being alone.  

So, climbing up until she was on her hands and feet, Isa crawled along the winding branches, following parallel to the person making the trek. Inside her chest, the golden chords seemed to settle as she watched over this new charge. As she kept pace, she felt the bark begin to creep up her neck and spread across her face, a mask falling into place as she kept watch out of sight and moved the vegetation to her whim. It was seamless, the way she moved beside them without this person being none the wiser, but to Isa it felt almost fated. As if her being there to keep them safe was what she had been meant to do, just as her care of the rainforest felt so right. 

As this person kept moving and she followed them silently, she got closer and closer until she could see them clearly and from above them.  It was almost startling the way she had to suppress a concerned whine and the instinct to drop down to figure out why she suddenly felt so tense at them being alone. Why did she feel so protective, like the jaguars were their cubs and the way she knew her invisible guardians were in the beginning? Looking around and casting out her awareness, she could not see anything around that would harm them, but something urged her to get them out, to deliver them where they needed to go and out of the dark jungle that they had been walking through. For someone like Isa, who had lived here in the jungle for years, had sharpened her teeth on the bones of animals that had hunted her and fought her way through every challenge, it was with learned power that she was able to walk through different places with her challenges halved.  

This person smelled like prey and though she may not have the same instincts as those of the predators who lurked in the dark, she knew with certainty that if it came to blows against one of the many dangers, they would not survive the fight and that made her heart lurch.  They would not be able to fight off a jaguar or run away from danger, not really. So, her soul becoming resolute, she closed the vegetation behind them as they moved, so slowly and noiselessly in the dark that they never glanced back to notice. 

Minute by agonizing minute passed at a pace of leaking sap and for every moment that she spent closing the trails that the inhabitants of the forest left behind, she cast her awareness as far as it could reach, intently focusing on monitoring all that moved. As she did so, the bark on her skin grew in whorls, covering her body. She almost looked like a living tree, were it not for the skin peeking through and the movement of her body as she flitted from branch to branch. If the woman had looked up, she would have seen golden eyes peering through her from the trees, but she did not. 

At least not then. 

It was as they were reaching the edge that Isa felt something begin to crash through the trees, hearing far before this person did and she found herself reacting on instinct. Muscles bunched and tensed as she prepared to drop down onto the jungle floor just as a young jaguar emerged from the trees with a growl that stopped her charge in their tracks, the scent of fear beginning to make itself knows as something dangerous entered the space. In truth had she been the only one there, she would have hissed at it, tried to scare it away without needing to fight it, but the moment she clocked the way it stalked her charge she had begun to let go of the branch. 

In the instance it took this person to register the danger coming from the tree line, backpedaling to try and get away, their sight was obscured by something else. 

Sara del Monte had only been trying to get home, the daylight having begun to fade when she realized she needed to get home. It would have been smarter to use the well-trodden and paved paths of the Encanto to get home, but she thought it would have wasted less time to get home on time to use a shortcut often used by her neighbors to get to and from their slightly secluded homes. It was a mistake to use a path she had not known at night, but by the time she realized that she was lost the light had already faded and she had no idea where to go. 

It had been a miracle she found the opening in the brush and the path by extension. It seemed that she only really knew where the path continued when she got close enough to reach out and touch the edge of a wall she’d thought had been there seconds before. It had gotten better after the first ten minutes; eyes having adjusted to the little light coming through the leaves. However, she was keenly aware of time passing, far longer than it should have taken to get home and she knew...the fact she hadn’t encountered any of the bestias nocturnas was worrying. 

Animals do not go quiet for no reason. They do it to hide themselves from the predators that walk the land, to try and survive as long as possible. 

It was almost inevitable, the low growling of something dangerous coming from her left, but still it startled her into turning to face the beast coming out of dark. She had started to back away, feet slipping a bit on the earth, when from above came a low, hissing rattle before she was blocked from sight. 

For a moment, she didn’t know what had happened, what had dropped down to join her and Jaguar, but before Sara could even begin to puzzle out what was in front of her, it rattled. It wasn’t like the soft rattling of a child's new toy, but deep and hollow, shaking her chest with the strength behind it. All she could do was stare wide-eyed at whatever was in front of her and the suddenly whining Jaguar. 

‘Dios mio....’ was the only thought running through her mind. It was a moment where her flight and fright instinct was torn in two, instead settling on freeze. Sara was not a big woman; she was one of the smallest women in her family. So, when whatever in front of her stood up and towered over her, head and shoulders easily clearing her own by a large margin, she could only stand and listen to the rattling. 

(Like the moving of the earth and the snap of breaking branches so large that they could be heard over the entire jungle. A hollow, deep sound that at once could be used to scare and to coo-) 

In a flash of movement, she was alone. Whatever it was that stood in front of her was gone and the Jaguar that had once been standing before her teeth bared, had disappeared. The only thing that assured her that it had even been there was the fading yowling heading in the direction of the deep jungle, faster than she could comprehend. She had stood there for long moments, trying to bring her heart back from the racing tempo it had begun to beat. Every attempt was met with stuttered breathing until she was breathing so fast her head began to swim. 

She had almost been attacked. So far from her home and nowhere familiar she had been face to face with something that could have dragged her into the dark never to be seen again had whatever been between her and it not dropped down. What had happened? What was that? Where was she? How did she get so lost? 

Sara wanted to go home to her family. To her mother and her little brother, where nothing bad would happen and she wasn’t stuck in the dark- 

A sudden low rumbling brought her back from the edge, soothing and shaking her chest with the vibrations. She sat up from where she had fallen during her panic and searched for wherever the sound was coming from with wide eyes filled with tears. Later, she would admit that had she not seen those eyes she would have believed that everything had been a trick of the mind and adrenaline saving her from death, but as the soft light of the moon streamed down from the canopy it caught on the golden, glowing eyes of something in the tree line.  

It was strange. For the first few moments that she had seen it, Sara had been prepared to run as far and as fast as she could to escape. But....they did not move any closer and in fact moved deeper into the trees. In a standstill that lasted longer than she could accurately say, neither of them moved; one struck still in startlement and the other to not scare. Those golden eyes looked at her and all Sara could think as nothing happened was, ‘they don’t look angry...’ 

Quite the opposite, she mused as her body untensed, and she took a small step forward in curiosity. They were higher up than anything she had ever seen with animals, almost reaching six feet. And the golden hue was more welcoming than terrifying in the moments she stared at them. The pupils dilated like a cat's eye when looking at something curious, like her own cat looked at her when she would come home after a long day at work. Really, all that was left to complete the image of the eyes was the noi- 

And that was when a low cooing, rumble shook the leaves, leaving a calming emotion in its wake; an imitation pf what a purr must be for whatever it was. Sara smiled, not able to help the grin creeping rapidly across her face at the familiar sound, but as she moved to take a step forward once again, the noise petered out and was replaced by a much softer rattle than the one it had made before while moving farther backwards into the trees. 

“Espera! Wait!” 

The eyes that had been moving back stopped and focused on her once again, a curious look in them. She hadn’t  a plan on what to do, nothing and everything on the tip of her tongue, but all she can say is, “A dónde vas?”  

She could almost kick herself for asking, but for all the embarrassment that begins to suffuse her body those golden eyes face her fully and tilt, like the face they belonged to cocked its head to the side. Taking another step closer, she spoke again, “I-I want to thank you.... si tu no hubieras intervenido-” she cut herself off, needing a moment to clear her throat and her eyes. Another rattle brought her attention back from where it had wandered and those eyes moved a bit closer, leaning down to be level with her own. 

In the lowlight, it wasn’t skin that she saw. Instead, the face that stared back at her was wooden and growing around it were plants sprouting from the sides, flowers blooming as she, because it was, stepping a little further into the light. She was covered in bark and her hair was intertwined with flowering vines, but what took her breath away wasn’t any of this. When she moved the jungle moved, the earth shaking with every step, and when she stopped roots wrapped around her feet, branches reached down for her and when she breathed it felt like everything around her did too; Like the very environment around her was her body and they were stood at its heart. 

There was so much caught in her throat, so much she wanted to say but a sudden cry from the jungle had he looking around in fear and moving closer to her guardian. Anything she would have said was locked away and as she looked back up at those eyes, they in turn softened at her scared expression and she stood up. 

They stared at her and in a moment the jungle began to move. Tree trunks leaned to the side, vines twisted themselves away, and the roots of so many plants shifted until a path carved itself out of the green and dark; a path more direct than the one she had been trying to find. Under her feet the ground began to shift and before she could even register what was happening, roots burst from the earth and lifted her into the grasp of the branches. It took her a moment to really recognize that the floor was not simply being turned but moving away from the clearing and along the path, the woman of the jungle keeping pace and overtaking her progress until she could see lights down below them at the end of the incline, she knew overlooked the town. 

Isa knew that she had to get this person down from where they were, but the only way she knew how to reach the lights as quickly as she needed was to be down the cliffside. Any other route would take her longer, especially as she was carrying this woman alongside her, and a command this long was still a little more than she could handle for long periods of time; at least for now. So, looking back at her, Isa closed her eyes for a brief second and listened to her ever present guides. 

(She was human, and they were not. She was not meant to know about them, not yet. Spirits or gods were never meant to be seen by them, but Isa was different. She had been flesh and blood before she had ever been theirs, like them, more than human-) 

La Madre Tierra reached out and her voice, the groaning of the mountains, “Sería mejor qué no se acuerde de ti, mi amor.” 

The Jungle, a chorus of a hundred different whispering voices and their leader, crooned in her ear, “Tal vez no completamente, mi amor.” 

And Isa knew, just as she knew that she was something more than the animals that wandered through the jungle and the person cradled in her branches, that this woman would sleep and her mind would cloud. She would remember the impressions of her being, would recognize that something other had come to her rescue, but Isa would not be revealed. Flowers bloomed on the branches of the branches and vines holding Sara up and her eyes grew wide in wonder, not noticing her rapidly increasing fatigue. 

She tried to speak, her eyes still staring at the the pale blooms, “Tan...He-hermosas...” 

The last thing Sara would remember among the collection of hazy memories of golden eyes, low rattles, and sweet-smelling flowers was saying one thing. 

“Madre....monte-” 

(Names have power, they cement themselves in the souls of those who are given them. Spirits and gods take the names that their people give them, a claiming of their gaze and being claimed in return.  

Isa was once flesh and blood, but she was more now; Something completely Other.  

Her Name was Isa and Amor, but now this name, falling from the lips of the innocent, was solely Hers.) 

In the coming hours, Sara would be found sound asleep at the edge of the town and Isa, looking down from the edge entrance of the mountains, breathed in time with the jungle and left the jungle of her childhood and off beyond all she had ever known. 

She would be back, her heart lying here, but a hundred different voices speaking as one and the sound of the earth rending would beckon her forward, guiding her into a new chapter. 

(Far away, in a house over-looking the town, a little girl stared up at a dim door and the face of carved on it. Wide eyes the color of her father’s stared up in unconcealed awe and for a moment, her eyes flickered a beautiful green.) 

The following two years were a whirlwind of memories that she cherished so much. Isa had known that she had been part of an extraordinary world, but she never understood the gravity of what she was. After helping the woman in the Jungle, Isa had grown curious. For a year she had spent time hopping in and out of the valley, going farther and farther out until she had made a patrol of every place that she had seen thus far, her awareness broadened with each step taken 

Time was not a concept that Isa really paid mind to. 

Isa was seventeen and her life had been defined by the cyclical changes that the seasons brought, and she had been changing alongside them. Where she had needed to climb, she simply reached. Where her feet had slipped, she gracefully crossed. Where she had strained to bring a vine to wrap around her, had needed the Chorus to aid her, the jungle did without thought. It was her body as much as her own was and the separation between what was her and what was golden chords didn't exist any longer. 

(Madremonte, they whispered in the dark of night. Gifts left at the edge of the jungle, taken by the time daylight breached the sky, and the memories of golden eyes and the moving of the jungle. Madremonte, they called her when lost souls found their way to Encanto with tales of raiders being dragged into the dark with the sound of an insidious rattle-) 

It had been five years since she had woken up and two years since she had guided her first person to safety. That time seemed like a lifetime ago and she was so different now to who she was then, so much faster and stronger than she had been. Predators that had once challenged her now stopped when they felt her presence, often either showing a sign of submission before something greater than them or avoiding her altogether, though she was noticing a much more relaxed reaction from them as of late. 

Her awareness was vast and though she was not omnipresent, she knew that if there was something that needed her attention she would know quickly as the whispers of her chorus would bring it to her attention if it was beyond her range of hearing. Isa was scarred in places she had not been before.

New ones crossing her body where the bark did not grow over them, and others only seen in the thick growth of it. The roundness of youth had left her almost completely, leaving hard earned muscle and a tall frame that reached a near seven-foot height. Her canines had grown and when she smiled, they poked out more than they had before; they had been put to good use in the past two years.  

Out there, where the cradle of her childhood ended, Isa had found villages and towns filled with people so close to the jungle that she had seen the beauty and cruelty man could offer. Often, women and children would wander into her domain, unaware of the silent presence that followed them, watching, learning. Isa had seen men set out, grim faced with their minds on finding food and followed them as they downed their catch, completely missing golden eyes from the tree line. She watched all of them and when they were lost, when they needed a miracle, she felt herself soften and provide. 

When families fled their homes, they found trails that led them through the jungle. They never noticed the trees falling on top of the raiders on horseback or the roots dragging those above them into the earth so quickly they had no time to cry out. When the starved searched for food, fruit trees grew near their homes, but it was with children that she acted. They were so in awe of everything around them, wide eyes, and so small compared to the world. 

It had started with a little boy, curly-haired and eyes the color of tree sap. He had wandered off into the trees and away from his home, moving farther and farther away until he had realized that he didn’t know where home was anymore. He had sat down on the jungle floor and cried, but around him the jungle slowly moved itself around him. He was so small and so precious, but he was so vulnerable here in her home where he could easily hurt himself, so Isa had dropped down and her mask retracted. It was odd having her face uncovered around people, but deep in her bones she knew that a child was the exception, would always be the point where she would break away from the normal and act. 

He had been afraid at first and she understood why, but as she trilled a soft rattle and playfully guided the vines to dance around and bloom, he laughed and reached for her. He was so small and in comparison, Isa was a giant to him, unafraid though he was, but oh how she melted when he giggled and grabbed her nose. Some part of Isa knew right then and there that come hell or high water, she would die before she let a child come to harm. She could have spent hours playing with him, but a far off where no mortal person could hear, she heard the cry of a woman calling out and the beginning commotion of others joining her call.

In the end, Isa had brought him closer to her chest with one hand and with the other she climbed into the trees with a leap. It was hard, moving with another attached to her, especially when he began to squirm in her grip, but as she began to hum a lullaby that she loved with the hope of calming him, he settled. She had gotten close enough to the calls that she could see light faintly moving through the trees. Moving back a bit, the roots of a large tree emerged from the ground, and she crouched down. 

Willing moss to grow to make a bed for him to lay on, she moved him a bit away from her and looked down at his sleepy face. She smiled and the sweet scent of a nearby flower flooded his senses, “Buenos sueños, chiquitin.” 

As his eyes closed and he went limp with sleep, she stood back up looking back at the lights getting slowly closer and disappeared into the dark jungle.  

(It was a crash in the jungle that drew them further in. 

When they found him curled up in the roots of the tree, they were relieved and, in the morning, when he was back home and his family asked him what happened, he would tell them how scared he had been when he couldn’t find home. He would tell them of golden eyes and a kind face, of soft rattles and the moving Jungle. He would tell them She saved him.) 

Isa had tried to remain hidden from the knowledge of those unlike her. 

(Some things walk into the light no matter how much you wish to hide them. Maybe not the whole of it, but fragments of things people saw while running like roots pulling evil men under...) 

Had never allowed people to remember her and sent them to sleep. 

(Or fruit appearing on new trees that weren't there before.) 

But for this child she had shown her face- 

(Sometimes it is golden eyes watching from the far shadows.) 

Her eyes- 

(And rarely, even the moving jungle) 

Her smile. 

(Whispers in the dark of shared experiences, belief growing through the years, gifts left at the edge of the jungle as offerings disappearing come morning.)

So, when she heard the cries of another scared child from her perch on the cliff and the low rumbles of a Jaguar getting closer, it was no surprise that she dropped everything- 

(Stopped watching the house on the hill and followed the pull in her chest-) 

And ran. 

______________________________________________

I have returned! It only took more than a year and whatever muse I was using to come back, but I have returned lol. Anyways, we'll be seeing Mirabel in the next part so be on the lookout for that.

[batrogers]

That Broken Promise: A Linkverse

When Koume and Kotake trick Link into pulling the Master Sword free of the Temple of Time, ten years after he placed it there to return himself to his own past, the world shatters around them and many of the Heroes across time are dragged together to stabilize a broken world.

How will they restore each other to their homes and families? Can they even get along long enough to find a solution without dying to one world or another or, worse, killing each other?

[Summary Post of art and fic content about this project of mine.]

I made a sideblog just for archiving the stuff here!

Content Warnings for the series: The series will include 18+/Explicit fic and art (accordingly marked), angst, trauma, rape, graphic violence, temporary character death, minor/side character death, interpersonal violence between the Links, gender and sexuality headcanons, and Linkshipping.

Character List, with in-universe names and links to each respective bio:

The Zelda timeline as I will be using it personally

Skyloft = Skyward Sword, 26

Minish = Minish Cap, Four Swords, 20

Kokiri = Ocarina of Time, Majora's Mask, Hyrule Warriors, 20 [27?]

Outset = Wind Waker, Phantom Hourglass, Hyrule Warriors, 22[?]

Chief = Spirit Tracks, Tri Force Heroes, Hyrule Warriors, 27 [29]

Ordon = Twilight Princess, 29

Four = Four Swords Adventures (Manga + Game), 24

Prince = Hyrule Warriors, Tri Force Heroes, 25

Rabbit = Link to the Past, Oracle of Ages, Link's Awakening, Oracle of Seasons, 26

Smith = Link Between Worlds, Tri Force Heroes, 26

Far = Legend of Zelda (1986), Adventure of Link, 20

Hateno = Breath of the Wild, Tears of the Kingdom, 29

Plus a few others! The Fierce Deity The First Hero The Hero of Men Ravio

The AO3 Series (This will primarily be fanfic-based with occasional art, no comic is planned.)

My Messy Linkverse Playlist (in very rough timeline/story order)

Overall Series songs: Sons of Tyr, by Hebrede Some Nights, by Fun. Legends Never Die, from League of Legends Surface Pressure, from Encanto One Voice, by The Wailin' Jennys

[sp00kies]

How Disney has neutered their villains, an essay by a bored pumpkin

We all love Disney villains, they’re why some of us have a tumblr in the first place. A way to express our favorites to other people and/or give love to underrated villains. They’re also one of the most memorable things about Disney: their ability to create dark villains.

Many villains are so iconic that they show up at the theme parks and especially during October, with the Halloween season. However, I feel that ever since the 2000s, the villains have been toned down to the point where you can’t call them villains, only antagonists and bad guys.

So today, I’m gonna explain why I feel like this and why it’s kind of gotten sad too. Also, this is just my personal opinion, y’all don’t have to agree with me.

Anyways, rambling is below the cut.

First, let’s discuss the difference between a bad guy, an antagonist, and villain, as these terms get confused as being the same due to being similar.

A bad guy is the word that “antagonist” and “villain” namely tie into as they’re similars of it. But the definition that’s commonly used for it is your average criminal you see on the street.

An antagonist, while similar to a villain, is actually what the protagonist lacks and are the creators of conflicts. Think Abuela Alma from Encanto. She’s not the villain, but she’s an obstacle and brings conflict to Mirabel.

Now, a villain is what we’re all familiar with. Their actions are important to the plot; Ernesto poisoning Héctor, Maleficent cursing Aurora, etc. These are the most common of bad guys in media, and over the years, the Disney villains are starting to become the antagonist slightly.

The 30s up until the 90s was where the villains had no chill. The first Disney villain, The Evil Queen from Snow White, literally tried to poison her stepdaughter and also made a sort of blueprint for how villain should be.

Their design needs to be somewhat iconic, their voice needs to be menacing and cool, their deaths are horrifying, and their actions need to drive the plot along with downright brutal.

Exhibit A: Maleficent cursing Aurora as a baby

Exhibit B: McLeach having no issue with attempted child murder

Exhibit C: Scar literally murdering his brother in front of his nephew

And so on and so forth.

Each of these villains have something iconic about them, and their actions are memorable while also very dark. But the villains are also both funny and menacing. You only really need a dark villain when the story asks for it, and in my opinion, there are two villains who do their job right of being a dark as fuck villain.

Judge Claude Frollo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Judge Doom from Who Framed Roger Rabbit?

We all know about Frollo so I’ll give a brief summary of him. Basically, this dude is fucking insane. He also represents three of the Seven Deadly Sins: Pride, Wrath, and of course Lust. He lusted after the gypsy, Esmeralda, basically set Notre Dame ablaze, and tried to kill Quasimodo once as a baby and when he was an adult.

With HOND being a dark story, it makes sense as to why Frollo would be dark and it checks out. He also checks out the blueprints set by Grimhilde: his actions are dark, his voice and design are iconic, and his death is horrifying; literally showing that he’s going to Hell.

Now what about Judge Doom? Why is he so dark?

Well if you remember correctly, Judge Doom is technically a toon. But not just any toon: he is the toon that murdered Eddie Valient’s brother by dropping a piano on his head. And that’s not all.

Doom made a liquid that can permanently kill a toon: The Dip. It’s made out of paint thinners, which are used to erase a cartoon on the drawing board. And when we see that Doom is a toon, you realize: “Holy shit, this dude made something to kill his own kind.”

Doom had NO issue with destroying ToonTown. He wanted money AND to him, he thought it was funny.

And like Frollo, Doom immediately checks out with the blueprints: iconic design, iconic voice, actions are horrifying and drive the plot, and lets just say that, in my opinion, Doom’s death (and Doom in general) traumatized a generation of kids and adults.

These two villains are perfect examples of having dark villains for dark movies. And all of the other Disney villains are perfect examples of being funny and dark for kids movies. However, I feel like the moment the 2000s rolled around, things changed.

The 2000s and so on was definitely a time where people started to get more sensitive and kiddish, and Disney was no exception. Of course, they did make movies that are somewhat hardcore, but the same cannot be said for their villains.

Alameda Slim, Captain Gantu, Bowler Hat Guy. They all fill out the blueprints like their predecessors, but something felt off. They felt more toned down. Dark, yes, but it was definitely very kiddish than what we’ve been accustomed to the previous years. And it should be noted that this was when Disney started to slow down on killing their villains.

The two villains I feel that are like their predecessors are Dr. Facilier and Rourke. Their actions were dark, their whole aura was iconic, but their deaths were also pretty hardcore too.

Rourke was turned into a crystal and was literally shattered onscreen, and Facilier was dragged into Hell/the Loa ONSCREEN AND WE SAW HIS GRAVESTONE.

So, you see where I’m going with this? These two villains felt like they were from the 30s-90s, while everyone else felt like they were just PGd into oblivion.

The 2010s and forward was where the title of “villain” was completely lost. Of course, there are exceptions. King Candy/Turbo was a great comeback and Mother Gothel was awesome too, but that was it. Disney instead turned to Pixar’s motive for villains: twist villains.

The unholy trilogy of Disney’s twist villains are obviously Hans, Callaghan, and the sheep from Zootopia. And this is also where the blueprints set by Grimhilde were lost.

So let’s do this. Ignore Gothel and Turbo and only think of the villains after them. Can you name a single memorable thing about them? Any iconic lines? Can you remember their designs? Yeah, it’s pretty hard. Well, that’s my point.

These villains can only be called “antagonists” and “bad guys” because that’s how Disney sets them up to be. They’re so toned down that it kind of feels wrong to call them villains because what they do, while still dark and drives the plot, is just so kiddy.

Of course, you don’t need a villain with every movie. Encanto and Winnie the Pooh are good examples. YES, Abuela Alma was an ANTAGONIST, but she redeemed herself in the end and that movie was namely focused on the family trauma and Mirabel.

You might be thinking, “Sp00ks. Is this really necessary? Disney is just trying to make things appropriate for younger audiences.”

I’m sorry, but for the past 90 years, if this company has been showing their villains to be dark as Hell and have them be evil evil, yeah I’m gonna notice these changes.

So that’s why I believe that, in my opinion and based on what I’ve been seeing, Disney has been neutering their villains.

I haven’t seen Strange World, so I don’t know if that movie has a villain or not, but at this point I don’t care, which is disappointing.

Disney Villains are so memorable and it’s saying a lot when you can’t remember their villains from 10 years ago, but you can remember their villains from almost a century ago.

[foggyfanfic]

The Wedding Gift

Oneshot Preview: Juan's ears turned red and he frowned again, “I’m not complimenting you, this is just fact. If I measured your facial features the math would back me up.”

“I mean, it’s ok if you are complimenting me,” Mirabel said.

“Well, I’m not. Your face is mathematically sound. That’s all there is to it.”

Summary: As Mirabel gets to know one of the men from the village, she tries to figure out if he likes her for her, or because she's a Madrigal.

Words: 15.7K

“Oh! Mirabel! Perdon señor, uno minuto,” somebody called, Mirabel turned to find the voice and was surprised when the guy manning the bean stall waved her down, “Señorita Mirabel, do you have a bit of time?”

“Sure, yeah, what uh, what’s up?” Mirabel said, hoping to hide the fact that she did not remember this guy’s name at all. He was maybe a year or two older (or younger) than her, she vaguely remembered seeing him on the playground back when they were children. She was pretty sure. They may have even exchanged polite words at a party once. Possibly.

“It’s Juan,” he said, a little dryly. 

“Right. I know. Of course I know. Juan, what can I do for you?” Even as she spoke her eyes ticked over his face for some distinguishing feature she could attach the name to. But there were none, his nose was flat, but not especially so, his hair was black with very normal brown undertones, his skin wasn’t especially light or dark, his head neither very round nor very angular nor very square. Ultimately, his face could best be described as a face. No additional adjectives necessary.

Juan very clearly did not believe she knew his name, but instead of being annoyed he gave her a rueful smile and said, “It’s fine. Pretty sure my parents couldn’t have chosen a more generic name if they’d actually just named me ‘generic’.”

Mirabel chuckled, a little sheepishly, “I probably would remember that better.”

“Maybe I should change my name to that, is that the sort of thing we’ll be able to do at this new-fangled city hall?”

“Yeah, actually, it is,” she said, “although it might be a while before we set up a procedure for that sort of thing.”

In the past nine years since the miracle was reborn, Mirabel had slowly come to the realization that one of Abuela’s problems was the fact she was doing the job of at least three people. Emphasis on the “at least”. Abuela had acted as the de facto mayor of the Encanto since its inception, which probably wasn’t that bad back when Encanto was a handful of refugees. Now though, now their village was edging ever closer to being a small town, and having a one woman town government was not an option. It took a bit of research, and a lot of talking to people, but Encanto’s City Hall was under construction, and Mirabel was currently running around trying to recruit people to run for the city council.

“Well, when you do I may just be the first in line,” he leaned on the little bit of counter that wasn’t covered in baskets of beans, “but believe it or not, I didn’t interrupt your day to talk about how forgettable my name is.”

“Of course, yeah, what do you need?” She stood up a little straighter, she was doing her best to take as much work off Abuela’s plate as possible so Abuela could focus on prepping the newly elected mayor. They wanted the transition to be as smooth as possible.

“I wanted to hire you for a commission.”

Mirabel actually jolted a little out of surprise, “You- what?”

“A commission, an embroidery commission,” he said, clarifying when she just stared at him, “my sister’s getting married soon and she’s really into fashion so I figured for a gift-, well, one of your pieces might be the obvious choice, but they don’t call me generic for nothing.”

“Oh.”

“Do you-? I completely understand if you’re too busy. You can say no.”

“No, no, it’s not that, I’d be happy to uh to make your sister’s gift,” Mirabel said, quickly. She decided not to tell him she was just surprised to have her embroidery acknowledged. It wasn’t like she lived in her familia’s shadow anymore, but people were a lot more impressed by her communication and leadership skills than her skills with a needle and thread.

It felt surprisingly good to have a spot light shined on this particular talent.

“Oh good,” he smiled, “no offense to the town tailors, but everything they make is meant for function, I really want to give her something that’s actual art.”

Mirabel felt her face heat up, and it was all she could do to keep her smile pointed up at him instead of smiling down at her shoes, “I-, that’s-, thank you. That’s very nice of you to say. What uh, what did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know, something in her favorite colors I guess?” he shrugged, “I have no idea how you artist folk come up with ideas, so I kinda have to trust your judgement on this one. What’s a good design that says ‘Yay, you’re in love’?”

Artist. He called Mirabel an artist.

“Um, a heart, maybe? Or I can ask Isabela to lend me her flower dictionary, I could probably embroider a bouquet that means true love and good blessings and stuff. What were you thinking of putting the embroidery on?”

“One of our Má’s old blouses, my sister loves that thing and Má has been planning to fix it up and give it to her for ages. Figure this is as good a chance as any.”

“I’d have to see it to get an idea what designs would look good on it.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. You free for dinner? Around six? She’ll be eating with her in-laws tonight, so we wouldn’t even have to be sneaky.”

Mirabel thought about her schedule a little, slowly starting to nod, “Sí, I can do dinner.”

“Great, let me write down my address for you,” he turned away, quickly scribbling on a piece of paper then handing it to her.

She laughed when she looked at the piece of paper and all it said was, “It’s the house right behind me.”

“Cute,” she told him.

“I can write down directions if you need me to,” he shrugged.

“Hm, gee, I think I might be able to find it myself.”

“You sure.”

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

“Well that’s good, because I can’t think up a good follow up joke,” he grinned a little sheepishly.

“This one is good enough to stand on its own,” she said, neatly folding up the paper and putting it in her pocket.

“Gracias, I’m here all week,” he replied, leaning on the counter again, “except for tonight, when I’m at dinner. See you at six?”

“Yeah, see you then,” she chirped, before practically skipping away.

An artist!

—

A little less than a week later, Mirabel flipped through her sketchbook, lips pursed as she considered the designs she’d come up with for Juan’s sister. She couldn’t decide which ones she liked best. 

Sighing, Mirabel looked up at the clock. If she walked fast she might be able to catch Juan before he went home for the day. The bean stall wasn’t one of the market stalls that rotated vendors. Like a lot of the other staples, it was in the market five days a week, which meant Juan was in the market five days a week.

Dinner with him and his parents had been alright, but Mirabel had been surprised by how quiet Juan had gotten once his parents were at the table. It wasn’t an upset sort of quiet, more like every time she started to talk to him, he would redirect the conversation so his parents could take over. He seemed pretty friendly in the market, but when he was home he suddenly became-, well he was still friendly, he just didn’t talk much. 

With her sketchbook in hand, Mirabel walked through town, being sure to wear her “busy face” to make it less likely somebody would try to stop her for a favor. She reached Juan just as he was carrying the last basket of beans into the storage shed between the stall and his house.

“Juan, hey,” she called out, trotting the last few steps to his side, “you got a second?”

“Technically, I have forty-three thousand seconds, but I have to fit dinner, sleeping, and breakfast in there,” he said, then grunted as he placed the basket of beans on a sturdy looking shelf. Mirabel quickly glanced away from his arms as his biceps flexed.

“Oh,” Mirabel wasn’t sure how to respond to that, “well uh, you mind sharing a few of those forty-three thousand seconds with me?”

“Do you want any specific seconds, or would just any do?”

“I was hoping for the next few uh hundred? Thousand?”

He cocked his head, eyes narrowed but unfocused, “That would be about sixteen minutes.”

“That should be enough, I think? I just want you to look at my ideas for your sister’s blouse.”

“That I can do.”

“Right, great,” Mirabel got her head back in the game, “here, I know you said you were going to trust my judgement, but I want your input on the design. I just can’t pick my favorite.”

Juan quietly took the proffered sketch book and flipped through her ideas. He carefully considered each one of them. When he was done, he went back to the first one and started again.

“Something wrong?” Mirabel asked.

“No,” Juan said, not looking up.

She waited for him to finish looking, then when he seemed ready to take a third pass, prompted, “What do you think?”

“I think I see why you can’t pick your favorite,” he said, continuing to stare at option one, “these all look really good.”

Mirabel blushed, even as she rolled her eyes, “Thank you, but that doesn’t help me make a decision.”

“No. I suppose it doesn’t.”

He idly turned the page and stared at option two for as long as he’d stared at option one. Mirabel waited for him to say something else, something helpful. He turned to option three and stared at it as well.

Mirabel cleared her throat, he looked up at her, still silent.

It took her a second to figure out how to politely rephrase the question in her head, “Which would you choose?”

“All of them,” he said, then turned back to her sketchbook.

“Putting all of them would make the shirt look gaudy.”

“Oh. Would it?”

“Sí.”

“Only some of them, then.”

“You are zero help.”

He snorted, then nodded, “You are correct.”

Mirabel shook her head as a chuckle bubbled past her lips, “How about I go calculate how much each one would cost to make, then come back and we try this again?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” he perked up, and finally handed her the sketchbook back, “I’ll come with you. Where do you get your thread?”

“Uh, Lucia’s,” she said, jabbing her thumb in the direction of her preferred fabric store, “but you don’t have to do that, I’ll honestly probably be there for hours. We’ll blow right past the thousand second mark.”

“Does it take that long to find the right thread?” He looked simultaneously startled and impressed.

“Meh, it’s more that I’m friends with Lucia. And her back room is where the sewing club meets.”

“Ah, so you’ll be chatting,” he nodded, “will I also be required to chat?”

“A tiny bit, I mean, when I drag my Tío Bruno along everybody is fine with him just standing sorta awkwardly next to me. Unless Jo brought Adelaide, then they talk about something called NASA.”

“That’s what I’ll do then.” He started walking in the direction she’d pointed, and Mirabel trotted after him so she could take the lead.

“Stand awkwardly next to me? Or talk about NASA?”

“The first one.”

Mirabel huffed out a surprised laugh, “Do you hate talking that much?”

“No, I just do it all day,” he shrugged, “I handle numbers quick, so it just makes sense to have me run the stall, but I’m not-. I would prefer if it was just me and the numbers, and maybe a few people like you.”

“Like me?”

“Yeah, you know, people who are-,” he cut off and made a vague hand gesture, he actually reminded her a little of her Tío Bruno when he did that, “people who aren’t draining to talk to. People that make you feel more energetic, not less.”

“Oh,” Mirabel glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, “uh, thank you?”

A frown flittered across his face, then he said, “I didn’t mean that as-. You're welcome, but I’m not trying to be nice. It’s just the way it is.”

“Uh, pretty sure it’s pretty subjective actually,” Mirabel said, “in my experience feelings always are.”

“It’s not a feeling, it’s probably science.”

“Science?”

“Sí, I bet all your smiling does something to people’s brains. Like caffeine,” he nodded along with himself, “Or maybe your voice is just the right frequency to help people wake up, like sunlight.”

“You think… my voice sounds like sunlight?” she asked slowly, trying not to laugh.

“Well, obviously not literally, but I think your voice makes people feel more awake, like sunlight does.”

“Right, and uh, do I smell like laughter?”

“Now you’re just being preposterous.”

Mirabel couldn’t help but giggle, “I don’t think it’s science, I think you just enjoy my company.”

He huffed, “Everybody enjoys your company, and there’s probably a scientific reason for that too.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really,” he stopped walking so he could narrow his eyes at her, “maybe you give off pheromones.”

Mirabel couldn’t help but laugh outright at that, “I do not!”

“You might,” he insisted, then pursed his lips, “or it could be psychology. People like things that are pleasant to look at. You are pleasant to look at and covered in art. Ergo, people like being around you.”

“Pleasant to-. Are you saying I’m pretty?” She didn’t know whether to be flattered or laugh some more.

“If that’s what you want to call it, but it’s hardly scientific, now is it? You are well proportioned and symmetrical,” he sniffed, continuing on his way. Mirabel followed him, trying not to be too amused at his expense. 

“Well, thank you,” she eventually said.

His ears turned red and he frowned again, “I’m not complimenting you, this is just fact. If I measured your facial features the math would back me up.”

“I mean, it’s ok if you are complimenting me,” she said.

“Well, I’m not. Your face is mathematically sound. That’s all there is to it.”

Mirabel blushed, despite how much she still wanted to laugh. Who talked like this?! It seemed Juan genuinely believed what he was saying, but it was also possible he was choosing to put the moves on her in the weirdest way possible. He wouldn’t be the first guy to make a pass at her. Hell, she’d even gone on a few first dates that went nowhere.

If this was his way of making a move, he got points for originality.

“Well, I’m going to choose to be flattered and say thank you,” she declared.

“I’m just being logical,” he grumbled, and she swallowed another laugh.

By the time they got to the fabric store he was done pouting, and instead seemed prepared to stop and read every price displayed in the shop, whether it was connected to their project or not. Mirabel left him to it, she wanted to ask Lucia about how her recent trip to the city went, anyway.

The conversation took at least half an hour, and when she turned to look for Juan, he was standing in the corner, examining the thimbles.

“Are you bored?” she checked with him.

“Not at all,” he said, “take your time.”

“Are you sure, I don’t have to chat with-.”

“No, Mirabel, please, I mean it. Take your time, have fun, don’t ignore your friends on my account,” he said, putting the thimble down and giving her an earnest look.

“Ok, then I’m going to slip into that back room there and see if anyone from my sewing club is in today,” she pointed the door out to him, “come find me if you need me.”

Mirabel peaked her head in through the door and was pleased to find three of her friends in the room. Katrina, or Kat, sat at the table, cutting out a pattern for a new dress. Meanwhile, Josephine, or Jo, and Jo’s best friend Adelaide sat on the couch, Adelaide holding half of Jo’s latest project in her lap so it wouldn’t drape on the ground. Mirabel greeted them all enthusiastically and asked how they were doing. After twenty minutes, Juan slipped up next to her and quietly took the sketch book.

“Hey Adelaide,” he said.

“Hey,” she said back, voice quiet enough to be a whisper.

“Hola Señoritas Josephine and Katrina,” Juan nodded at each of them in turn.

“What? I don’t get a casual ‘hello’?” Jo asked, with a friendly grin, “Is this because I ditched astronomy club?”

“Sí,” Juan said, while Adelaide nodded.

“Astronomy club?” Mirabel asked.

“Not a real club,” Jo explained, “but Adelaide loves astronomy, and Juan loves math, so they-. What’d you guys do again?”

“Adelaide takes measurements of the bodies in the night sky, and I use those measurements to calculate the answers to questions she had about them,” Juan said.

“Yeah, the only part I have in it was making Addy a quilt based off some of their science stuff that one time,” Jo shrugged, “actually, you guys helped with that, remember?”

A quilt based off “science stuff”. As far as descriptions went, it was severely lacking. Josephine came up with brilliant projects for their club to do together, but there was a reason she always drew them out on a sheet of paper.

Before Mirabel could ask for more information, Juan told her, “You embroidered pictures of all the constellations. With gold and silver thread.”

Adelaide snorted, just a quiet huff of air through her nose, for some reason she was giving Juan a look that was almost, almost, hinting at being amused.

“Oh! That quilt! Sí, I remember,” Mirabel nodded happily, “that one was really fun. I didn’t realize you were involved.”

It had been fun, Jo had brought the idea to their sewing/fiber arts club, a quilt that was an accurate depiction of the night sky on Adelaide’s birthday. While Jo did most of the work, she had gotten Mirabel to help with the embroidery, Kat and Suzane had helped with some of the more tedious stitching, and Lucia had made some beautiful button stars. They had spent three months working on it together then invited Adelaide to a meeting so they could present it to her over cake. Adelaide was the quiet sort, never one for big expressions, but she had cried and even hugged each of them. The whole thing was a very fond memory for Mirabel.

“He did all the calculations by hand,” Adelaide said, “isn’t that impressive Mirabel?”

Juan gave Adelaide a look, his ears bright red, while Adelaide focused on Mirabel, making very steady eye contact for a woman that... well. Let’s just say Adelaide got along really well with Tío Bruno.

Mirabel watched Juan very closely while she said, “Yeah, that actually is pretty impressive. I can’t even imagine how complicated that math would be.”

Juan tensed up, looking anywhere but at Mirabel, “It’s not-. Numbers aren’t that complicated, it’s just most people have better things to do than sit around and play with them.”

“Mirabel complimented you Juan,” Adelaide said, and she was definitely smirking just a little.

Juan shot her a glare, then said in an almost normal voice, “Thank you Mirabel. You are too kind.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d call it a compliment,” Mirabel said slowly, “you’re smart. It’s just the way it is. In fact, it’s probably science.”

Juan looked at her, a little startled, “It’s-. That’s not how science works.”

“No, no, I think it is,” she pretended to think for a moment, “maybe it’s pheromones.”

Adelaide actually giggled, Juan shot her another glare.

“I see how it is, well fine, if the two of you are just going to gang up on me, I’m going go play with my true friends,” he began walking away, the sketchbook hugged to his chest, “numbers.”

Mirabel watched him go, then as soon as he was out the door, turned back to Adelaide, “So am I reading this right?”

“How long has Juan had a crush on Mirabel?” Jo asked at the same time, grinning from ear to ear.

“Are you going to go for it?” Kat asked Mirabel, then shrugged, “He’s kinda cute, in a plain way.”

“I don’t know,” Adelaide said, seemingly answering Josephine’s question, “his sister told me about it a few days ago.”

“I-,” Mirabel hesitated to tell Kat she wasn’t sure in front of Adelaide, it seemed like Adelaide and Juan were close, “I want to get to know him better. And, you know, actually hear from his own lips that he’s interested in me.”

Mirabel had discovered the hard way that her life did not have room for any games. She needed somebody blunt, who could tell her what they wanted without making her guess. The closest thing she’d had to a relationship had fizzled out because the guy kept trying to play it cool while Mirabel was just trying to juggle her many interests and commitments.

“That’s smart,” Adelaide said, back to her usual almost whisper.

“You think so?” Mirabel asked, she’d sort of expected Adelaide to press the issue on her friend’s behalf.

Adelaide nodded, face giving away nothing.

“If you don’t go for it, I might,” Kat said with a shrug, “he seems stable.”

“Does he, though?” Josephine asked, “He gets flustered easily.”

“Flustered easily is way better than angered easily,” Kat shrugged again, “trust me.”

Mirabel placed a quiet hand on Kat’s shoulder. She had recently broken off her engagement to her school yard sweetheart, who had quit being so sweet once he discovered a love of tequila.

The conversation moved on to other things, eventually Mirabel separated herself to see if she could find her sketchbook and the man who took it. When she did, she waited a while to announce her presence, instead she watched him scowl at two nearly identical colors of thread for a few seconds. He did seem stable, safe.

Mirabel hadn’t spent much time thinking about romance, not until she reached her twentieth birthday and suddenly every Má, Tía, and Abuela in town were throwing their single sons, nephews, and grandsons at her. Even now, she wasn’t sure if it was romance she was thinking of, or just marriage. Romance was what Dolores and Mariano had, marriage was what Isabela and Mariano almost had. It was an important distinction.

She wanted both, well, technically she wanted kids and she wanted romance, so marriage seemed like the right way to go.

The problem was, Mirabel wanted somebody that let her be herself. That didn’t seem like it’d be hard to find, Juan was half right, everybody loved being around Mirabel. But that was because Mirabel was a leader in the community these days. All those first dates that went nowhere, went nowhere because it was clear that the guy was on a date with Señorita Madrigal, not Mirabel. She was proud of what she had done for their town, proud of the ways she’d stepped up and grown in the past nine years, but she still wanted space to be imperfect.

Would Juan get that? Did he understand Mirabel was human, not just a Madrigal?

Only one way to find out, she decided, clearing her throat as she approached him.

“First you and Adelaide ganged up on me, now I’m being defeated by the color red,” he said in greeting, “it would seem I am very bad at going to craft stores.”

Mirabel laughed a little, “Why is the red defeating you?”

“Which one of these goes better with the little blue flowers you’ve drawn here,” he held the two spools of thread up to her sketchbook so she could compare.

“Uh, well,” she tried to say it as gently as possible, “neither of them. That’s not embroidery floss.”

“Embroidery-? Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Mirabel. I am absolutely abysmal at going to craft stores.”

“Ah, you’re not that bad,” she took the chance to awkwardly pat him on the shoulder, “I don’t think it’s something a person can be good or bad at, really.”

”And yet, here I am.”

Mirabel looked down at the two threads, “Here, put these down, and I’ll show you where the embroidery section is.”

“This is why I’m trusting your expertise,” Juan sighed, following her.

“Did you look at the other supplies? Pretty sure I have everything but the right sized hoop.” 

“Well, thread was supposed to be the last thing, but clearly I can not be trusted,” he shook his head, “my numbers are probably all wrong.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did fine,” she said. But she was wrong, Juan did not do fine, she couldn't fathom why he thought she would need so many needles, even after he repeatedly insisted it was better safe than sorry. Furthermore, he could not be trusted to color coordinate his socks with his shoelaces, much less an entire embroidery project. By the time she’d collected all the thread she would need, she had a pretty good idea why he always wore beige.

He had enough money to buy the thread and hoop right then and there, so he did, plus a couple of embroidery needles.

“In case yours break or get dull,” he’d said, when she once again tried to talk him out of buying her more needles.

“I mean, I have a lot of extras,” Mirabel had argued, feeling a bit bad that he was paying for everything. Even if this was, technically, a commission.

“Well, now you’ll have two more.”

He walked her back to Casita, and she tried to pull more information about himself out of him, but he only seemed interested in talking about her.

When she asked about his day, he deflected. “Oh, I just sold beans all day, nothing interesting. What’d you do today?”

When she tried to connect with him by letting him vent, he downplayed. “Bah, sure, sometimes customers can be a bit testy, but I’m sure I’ve never dealt with any problems like building a town government from scratch. How’s that going?”

And when she desperately tried to learn more about his interests, he dodged. “Meh, I don’t really have any hobbies, what about you? I know you also make the occasional stuffed animal, and play the accordion. Anything else?”

When they parted ways at the front door Mirabel once again found herself watching him go, thinking about the differences between romance and marriage. She was moderately sure they both required knowing a bit about your significant other.

Shaking her head, she decided it might not be meant to be. Juan was handsome and nice, but if he wouldn't let her get to know him, they could never have a real relationship.

Pity. He had some nice arms.

—

“Hey Mirabel, the bean guy’s here to see you,” Antonio called, poking his head through her door.

“Oh, Juan? Uh, send him up,” Mirabel said, over her shoulder. She was sitting on her floor, trying to come up with a rough budget to get the town’s new government started. Spread out around her was every bit of information she could find on Encanto’s financials. It was, to put it mildly, a lot.

“You sent for me?” Juan said, knocking politely on her door while he walked through it.

“Yeah, uh, you’re good at math, right?”

“Sí?”

“Great, I need a budget,” she held up a list of all the infrastructure repairs planned for the next year with one hand, and the estimated tax revenue with the other, “I’d ask my Pá but he’s busy helping the merchants work out a-. I guess that doesn’t really matter. He’s busy, and I can’t figure this stuff out.”

Juan joined her on the floor without a word and began looking over the various paperwork. After he had been reading for a while, it became obvious that whenever he finished reading something, he sorted it into one of two piles. She sat patiently, a part of her worried that if she spoke or moved, she’d scare away her numbers guy and be stuck with the evil budget. Instead of moving, she just watched him.

Eventually, she started to notice little details that escaped her the last few times they'd spoken, like the mole on the shell of his right ear that almost made the ear look pointed. His eyelids were naturally very hooded. He had very little stubble on his jaw line, but a fair amount on his chin and extending down from his sideburns, which were currently trimmed to a perfectly average length.

“Have you ever thought about growing your sideburns out?” Mirabel suddenly asked, surprising herself.

He paused, a list of improvements the village wanted to make to the church hovering over the farther pile, “My side burns?”

“Sí,” she plowed on, ignoring the burning in her cheeks, “it looks like you could.”

She reached out and traced her fingers down the stubble to indicate what she meant. He turned to look at her and Mirabel slowly drew her hand back. For a few seconds neither of them said anything, then he chuckled.

“Uh no, I’ve never thought about it, I’ve always trimmed them,” he shrugged, “I’d probably look real goofy with giant sideburns and no beard.”

“Well-. Ok, you would,” Mirabel leaned back on her hands, “but I always thought if I could grow facial hair I’d have fun with it. Like Camilo can’t grow a full goatee, but he could technically grow a goatee in the shape of a question mark, but he refuses cause he thinks it’ll look weird.”

“Hm, tell you what, you spend a day with clown makeup on, and I’ll grow out my sideburns,” he said.

“I’ve already done that,” Mirabel pointed out with a grin, “my Pá and I pretended to be clowns for my nephew’s birthday last year.”

“Oh. Well. Guess I’ll have to grow out my sideburns then.”

“Really?”

“I said that I would.”

“Even though you’ll look goofy?”

“Meh, what’s my pride worth,” he shrugged, “hopefully not as much as my word.”

“Oh, very profound,” Mirabel chuckled, “I might embroider that on a pillow.”

“If you do I demand you give me the pillow, that is probably the wisest sounding thing I’ll ever say,” he said, “I need to remember it and share it with my grandchildren.”

Mirabel nudged his shoulder with hers, “I’ll put it on a handkerchief for you. That way you can have it in your pocket wherever you go.”

“Genius,” he breathed, “absolutely genius.”

He turned back to sorting the paperwork, after a moment more of watching him, Mirabel stood and walked over to her sewing desk. She got out a leftover scrap of soft, blue fabric, scissors, some needle and thread, an embroidery hoop, and an embroidery needle. She opened her drawer of embroidery floss and debated the colors she had to spare, after a moment, she grabbed a deep teal that she’d used to shade the water on a beach themed project a while back. Mirabel sat back down next to him, and got to work making a handkerchief.

They sat on the floor, working in silence, for what must have been an hour before he requested some paper and a pencil.

“Do you want an abacus?” she asked, rummaging through her desk for a good pencil that still had an eraser.

“Don’t need one,” he said, carrying not just his sorted piles, but her crafting supplies over to one of her sewing tables, “although I do enjoy playing with the little beads.”

Mirabel chuckled, but admitted, “Yeah, me too.”

She placed the paper and two pencils down in front of him as he set up the piles of paperwork how he apparently wanted. Mirabel picked up her hoop and the newly hemmed handkerchief. They went back to working in silence for a little.

“So, you like math?” Mirabel eventually asked, rolling her head around to ease the growing stiffness in her neck.

“I know, not very exciting,” he chuckled sheepishly, “and not always as useful as being able to sew.”

She had to smother an eye roll at the way he insulted his own interests. It reminded her of some of her more frustrating conversations with Isabela, who occasionally relapsed into trying to be perfect, or Bruno, who was just generally pretty down on himself.

“Most hobbies aren’t exciting to the people who aren’t into them,” Mirabel pointed out, “and it’s clearly very useful, because you’re here helping me.”

“Sí, but I don’t use anything other than basic arithmetic for actual practical stuff,” Juan pointed out, “most of the fun math is for sailors and scientists.”

“So why not be one of those?” She let humor color her voice, she knew as well as he did that he didn’t want to live anywhere other than Encanto. Their town may have had some problems, but not nearly as many as the rest of the world. Better the bean guy, or gift-less Madrigal, in a loving paradise than a captain on cold, apathetic seas.

“Oh please, could you imagine me sailing a ship,” he rolled his eyes, even as he humored her.

“Hm, not right now, but maybe once you grow out your sideburns.”

He laughed, the sound seeming to take him by surprise. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, then apparently gave up and just shook his head, chuckling.

Mirabel considered her handkerchief, she was halfway done with the phrase, and she could already tell it was going to be pretty bland. The other end of the handkerchief needed something to balance it out. She took some of his unused paper, tore off a shred, and slid it in front of him.

“Write down your favorite equation,” she said.

“Um, ok?”

“Trust me.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, writing a collection of Latin symbols and parenthesis on the scrap paper.

“What is it?”

“It’s a quantum physics equation,” he said, “uh, speaking of things that are not useful, it’s a new realm of study. Relatively new, I mean. It’s only about as old as our parents. This one has to do with uh Einstein’s thoughts on quantum entanglement.”

Mirabel cocked her head, plumbing the depths of her memory for when she helped purchase new books for the library, “That’s something to do with atoms being connected, no?”

“You-?! Sí! Well, close, particles being connected. Not necessarily atoms,” he said, “I’m surprised you’ve heard of it.”

She shrugged, and in a blithe voice said, “You’re not the only genius in the room.”

“No, because that would be you.”

“Oh come on,” she groused, she was getting kind of sick of him putting himself down.

“I’m serious,” he said, “look at that. You just made that, out of nowhere, in the time it’s taken me to read a few lists and stuff.”

“That’s not what I-,” Mirabel hesitated, she had only hung out with Juan two times before this, she didn’t want to get too personal.

“What? Not what you what?”

Then again. Maybe if this were nine years ago, Mirabel would have been more patient about this sort of thing, but it wasn’t nine years ago. Mirabel had spent the past almost decade dealing with her Tío Bruno’s self loathing, and she’d found that “being patient” with things like this didn’t do much to solve them.

“Why do you keep putting yourself down like that? You’re not going to burst into flames if you admit you’re impressively smart,” Mirabel said.

“Oh,” Juan looked down at the paperwork, eyes clearly staring right through it, then he shrugged sullenly, “I uh I just don’t want to give off the impression I think I’m better than anyone.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Juan grimaced sheepishly, “I used to try to impress people, y’know, with how smart I am, but uh it just kinda made folks think I’m an arrogant asshole. So now, I don’t do that. I do the opposite actually, it seems to work better.”

“So you don’t actually think you’re an idiot.”

“No, not really, but bragging about how I can calculate the Earth’s distance from the sun based off some shadows doesn’t make people like me.”

Mirabel examined him for a minute, turning what he’d said over in her head, “So do you mean it, you know, when you compliment me? Or is that just to get me to like you?”

“It’s- both? Or, ugh, ok so this isn’t me putting myself down, but I am so much better with numbers than words.”

“I mean, you’re putting yourself down a little.”

“I know, but it’s also me complaining, so it doesn’t count,” he said. She did roll her eyes this time, but let him have this one.

“Well you don’t have to answer right away, you can think about it for a minute,” she offered, putting a hand on his arm.

He smiled at her, and seemingly accepted her offer, eyes going unfocused for a few minutes. She waited patiently, hand still on his arm.

“I know that a lot of people know how to sew, I know that not a lot of people know how to do math like I can,” he said slowly, “but uh, I had a lot of time to think y’know back when I was driving people away by trying to impress them. Common skills are common because people need them, because they’re genuinely useful. There might be a whole club dedicated to your art, but that’s because your art creates something people can use everyday. It’s not just that I don’t want to seem arrogant, I also don’t want to seem like I don’t appreciate what you can do. Like I take your skill set for granted.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that you can compliment me without insulting yourself?”

Juan started to say something, but froze halfway through the first letter of whatever word he was planning to start his sentence with. He pressed his lips together.

“Has it ever occurred to you that you could compliment me without insulting yourself?!”

“It is entirely possible I am only this good with numbers because my brain isn’t storing any other information,” he said, quietly.

Mirabel snorted, gently swatting his arm before taking her hand back, “I wouldn’t say it isn’t storing any other information, you seem to have a good memory.”

He nodded slowly, “Sí, all the better to remember every time I’ve embarrassed myself.”

“Everybody embarrasses themselves,” she said.

“Name one time you’ve embarrassed yourself.”

“Only Madrigal grandkid without a gift.”

“That doesn’t count, at worst it’s because that candle was a moron,” he waved her statement off. She giggled at the idea that a candle could be stupid, but decided she didn’t want to get into the whole miracle thing at that moment.

“I fall off of things a lot,” she said.

“Oh please, you-. Huh. You do, don’t you?”

“I really do.”

“That does make me feel a little better,” he gently nudged his shoulder against hers, “I mean, if even the great Mirabel Madrigal could fall every once in a while.”

“The great Mirabel Madrigal,” she scoffed.

He shrugged, “You have accomplished 30% more in your time on this earth than everybody else in the village. Except your Má and Abuela, of course.”

She felt her cheeks burn, “What? I have not. How would you even-?”

“Calculate it? Simple, an accomplishment is anything that takes work, and one is proud of when they’ve achieved it,” he said, “so a lot of your embroidery projects count as accomplishments. I am also counting giving birth and raising the child to adulthood as accomplishments (which is why your Má and Abuela are beating you). And that’s the sort of accomplishments that most people in the village have. But you’ve also modernized Encanto’s school curriculum, gotten new books for the library for the first time in decades, created a system where people can privately ask for help when they’re struggling to make ends meet, and now are setting up a new town government. Keep in mind, of course, that each of these accomplishments come with additional sub-accomplishments that must be accounted for-. What? Why are you smirking at me like that?”

“Nothing, I just had no idea you were paying so much attention to me,” she said.

“I’m not,” he argued, blushing, “not anymore than anyone else is.”

“Oh please, my own sister doesn’t keep track of all my projects like you apparently have,” granted, that was mostly because Isabela had gone from planning her wedding, to being pregnant, to being a new mother in very quick succession. All things that tended to monopolize a person’s attention. But still.

“That’s-. Adelaide talks about you a lot.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Really. Of course she does, you’re one of her favorite people.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Oh. Yes, really, she thinks you’re pretty great,” Juan said, “I know she can be really quiet but uh, if you get her one on one she tends to open up a bit more. Whenever we’re working on some astronomy project she talks about you, Josephine, Suzane, and Katrina a lot.”

“Huh, I had no idea,” Mirabel idly picked up the handkerchief and continued working on it, “I actually have been meaning to spend more time with her, anyone that gets along with my Tío Bruno has to be interesting.”

“Ay, she never shuts up about him,” Juan chuckled, “to hear her tell it, he’s the second funniest person in the village.”

“Whose the first?”

“I’d like to say me, but honestly, I think it’s whoever she has a crush on,” he shrugged, “but neither she nor Josephine will tell me who that is.”

“Ah,” Mirabel nodded. She didn’t have anything else to say, so she just kept sewing. After a few seconds, Juan picked his pencil back up and kept calculating.

He ended up staying for dinner, where he barely said a word. He seemed perfectly content to sit next to her in silence, listening to the conversation around him, but not adding anything. Considering that Tío Bruno was sitting on her other side, doing the same thing, it made it easy for Mirabel to dip in and out of the conversation without seeming rude.

When he left, Mirabel handed him the handkerchief. He stared at it with something bordering on awe.

“It’s just a handkerchief,” she said.

“It’s a Mirabel original,” he argued.

“You came up with the words.”

“You made them better, smoother,” he read it out to her, “May my pride never be worth more to me than my word.”

“That’s basically what you said.”

“I’ll keep it on me at all times,” he said, “can’t promise I’ll use it, but I’ll probably look at it twenty times a day for at least the next year.”

“I didn’t make it so you’d look at it,” she shook her head.

“Maybe not, but one does not wipe their brow with the Mona Lisa.”

That had been too much praise for Mirabel, face burning she had wished him a good night and fled back into the safety of Casita.

—

“You are never allowed to make fun of me for Bubo again,” Isabela said in way of greeting, pushing Mirabel’s door open without so much as the notion of knocking.

“Oh, hello Isabela! Please, come on in. No, no, no, don’t worry about knocking,” Mirabel said sarcastically, not looking up from the flowers she was embroidering, “I don’t ever want privacy or anything.”

“Seriously, the bean guy? You’re dating the bean guy?” Isabela asked.

“Still better than marrying Bubo,” Mirabel grumbled, “and I don’t know yet. He’s nice, but I’m not sure if, y’know, he likes me because I’m me, or because I’m a Madrigal.”

Isabela paused, then sighed, chuckling ruefully, “That right there is exactly why you’re not allowed to judge me for being with Bubo. She- He loves me for me. For the parts of me I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to share with the village.”

Mirabel’s hand froze, reluctantly she admitted, “As annoying as his machismo is, I do like how happy he’s made you.”

Isabela glanced at the open door, then closed it, “The machismo isn’t real. I- he’s not like that when he feels like he doesn’t have to be. It’s like how I used to try to be perfect, y’know; there’s more to him than he pretends there is.”

“In that case, can you tell him to knock it off? Or at least pick a different facade?” Mirabel huffed. Bubo had been getting better, calming down, acting more genuine. Mirabel had actually started to like her brother in law. Then his son was born and suddenly it was like somebody cranked the machismo up to eleven.

“I can try, but… let’s just say there’s a very specific reason he’s chosen this one.”

Mirabel made an unimpressed sound and continued sewing. She had figured something was going on, the way Bubo almost seemed to panic that one time Mirabel and Luisa had caught him with some of Isabela’s lipstick on his lips screamed Issues. But this family had gotten a literal crash course about why you needed to work through your issues rather than bury them, so Mirabel had a lot more patience for his pain than his pretenses.

“But seriously, the bean guy?”

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet,” Mirabel repeated, “why?”

“Oh, because he’s downstairs with a gift for you.”

“What? Isa,” Mirabel hissed, hurriedly standing, “and you just left him waiting down there?”

“Oh he’s fine, I left him with Tío Bruno. They’re both kinda weird, I figured they’d have a lot to talk about.”

Mirabel rolled her eyes and rushed out her door.

In the courtyard below, Tío Bruno was struggling his way through a polite conversation with Juan, “What about plays? Do you uh, do you enjoy the theatre?”

“Um, one time I took a trip into the city to watch my favorite physicist give a lecture on his latest theorem,” Juan replied, “that’s sort of like a play, no?”

“No. B-but I mean! Uh. It um it sounds interesting?”

“Oh it was! How much do you know about light physics?”

“Um. Oh! Mirabel! Hola, you have a guest,” Tío Bruno stood abruptly, ignoring the loud crack of his bad knee, “he uh, he brought you math.”

“Math?” 

“Adelaide said you might wish to see it,” Juan also stood, shrugging a little sheepishly.

“You’re friends with Adelaide?” Bruno asked, more like gasped. As if Juan had just revealed he had a third arm under his shirt.

“Sí, she has me do all her astronomy calculations for her.”

“Oh, ok. So that makes sense,” Tío Bruno said, putting a lot more emphasis on the word “that” than he probably realized. He looked between Mirabel and Juan a few times, then asked Juan, “What about fiction? Do you like fiction?”

“Not really.”

“And you don’t sew? Paint? Origami?”

“No, no, and no.”

“Hm, alright?” Tío Bruno glanced between them a few more times before abruptly walking away, “Bye.”

They watched him go.

“Adelaide said he wasn’t scary,” Juan huffed, “the liar.”

“He’s not scary,” Mirabel immediately jumped to defend her uncle.

“Oh sure, maybe not in the way everybody says he is, but I don’t think he likes me,” Juan shook his head, pouting just a little bit.

“Oh! No, that uh, that’s not what dislike looks like on him,” Mirabel shook her head, chuckling a little, “if he disliked you, he would have sat in the corner over there and stared at you, silently, until you got uncomfortable and left.”

“Like a grumpy cat?”

“Sí, but don’t tell him that, he prefers rats.”

“Wait, the rat thing is true?”

“Yeah, the rat thing is true.”

“I can see why Adelaide looks up to him.”

“Does she like rats?”

“No, she likes people who are nice to rats though,” he shrugged, “and spiders. And anything else people usually call vermin.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s Tío Bruno,” Mirabel chuckled, “anyway, you uh, you brought me math?”

“Oh, uh, sí,” he twisted and picked up a notebook he’d left behind on the couch, “it’s-, I uh, I calculated how much thread you’ve likely used in the past year.”

“What?” Mirabel gasped, surprised to find herself genuinely excited by that, “No way. How?”

“So you uh, told Adelaide how many spools of thread you used on her quilt, right? And she told me, and I wrote it down, and recently I measured the length of each stitch-.”

“Why?”

“Adelaide wasn’t giving me any numbers to play with,” he shrugged.

Mirabel giggled, “What?”

“She brings the quilt with her whenever we do astronomy club, right? Well, the other day we went out and she got really fixated on Saturn for some reason, but wasn’t giving me any data, so I got bored and started measuring your stitches.”

“Alright?”

“So, each of your stitches is about a fifth of an inch, and they max out at 2,000 stitches per square inch when you’re doing a full picture with shading,” Juan said, handing her the little notebook, “assuming you do the same amount of embroidery on each quilt, mind you, these are only preliminary calculations, for accurate numbers I would need to look at all of your projects in the last year, but! Using Adelaide’s quilt to calculate the amount of thread you use per square foot of cloth, factoring in that most of your embroidery is done on your own shirts and skirts, and keeping in mind that you sometimes do line art, or three dimensional things like your butterflies… about 1.5 thousand yards of thread.”

Mirabel gaped down at the notebook, slowly looking over the numbers, “I had no idea it was that much.”

“That’s honestly a very modest estimate,” he said, “I would need to go digging through your closet to get you a better number. Which would be a weird thing for me to do.”

She chuckled and nodded, but didn’t take her eyes off the little booklet of numbers, “Wow.”

“Yeah, so uh, that’s what I got,” Juan said, and when she looked up at him he was rubbing at the mole on his ear, “sorry to uh interrupt your Saturday afternoon with this, but Adelaide thought you might find it interesting.”

“I do! I absolutely do,” Mirabel answered, putting a hand on his bicep to reassure him, “thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome,” he said.

She watched, almost contemplatively, as the color rose in his cheeks the longer her hand was on his arm. Lately, Mirabel found herself growing fond of his face, even if it was a bit nondescript. She enjoyed talking to him, and made time to stop and chat with him whenever she was in town. Mirabel had gotten in the habit of checking in with her feelings since Casita fell, and lately whenever she checked her feelings, there was a new affection for “the bean guy”.

“I’m working on your sister’s shirt,” she said, slowly pulling her arm back, “would you uh like to come up and sit with me?”

“I would,” he nodded, “if you don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t ask you if I did.”

“Sí. Right. That makes sense,” he chuckled following her as she led the way to her room. When they got there he stared at the shirt and new embroidery, eyes practically glowing with admiration, then he nibbled on his lip and slowly reached for her measuring tape. After checking her face for permission, he measured a few of her stitches.

Mirabel withheld a laugh, and waited until he was done, then sat on her couch and continued to sew. He sat a respectful distance away from her, scribbling in his notebook.

She liked this. She liked the quiet companionship of working on their hobbies next to each other. She liked that she felt relaxed with him, calm, at ease, like she didn’t have to be Señorita Madrigal.

Mirabel’s parents had told her their love story a few times, as parents tended to do. When she was a little girl, she’d thought it was the most romantic thing ever. Her father had fallen for her Má first, his constant need of her arepas giving him plenty of reason to think about her. Her mother had fallen for her Pá slowly, starting when her Pá commented on a new recipe her Má was trying. It wasn’t even that he’d complimented it, it was just that he had noticed when nobody else did, that he had paid attention to the work she put in, not just the magic he got out of it. Eventually, they started dating. Then they decided to get married, only for Abuela to initially disapprove of the match. Abuela had since said it was the grace and maturity with which Pá handled the rejection that changed her mind. Abuela’s approval earned, they got married, and the rest was history.

As a child, on the very rare occasions that Mirabel had contemplated falling in love, she’d of course hoped to follow the template of her parent’s story. However, now that she was an adult, she knew that any man her mother disapproved of likely wasn’t a good man.

Now that she was an adult, she had very different thoughts about what she wanted. Not just out of love, but life in general.

Mirabel wanted kids, she wanted free time for her hobbies, she wanted a busy schedule, she wanted noisy family dinners, she wanted quiet Saturday afternoons. Mirabel wanted to help her community like her Má and Abuela, but she had long since discovered she didn’t actually enjoy being treated as a Sainted Madrigal. 

Whereas Mirabel had once wanted somebody to see the parts of her that were special, now she found herself hoping for somebody that saw the parts of her that weren’t.

Was she being realistic? Ungrateful? When she was younger, she had done everything she could to feel like A True Madrigal. Now she was considered the quintessential Madrigal and she wanted to feel like Just Mirabel. Was it possible to achieve a balance of the two?

“You’ve sighed twenty-one times in two minutes,” Juan suddenly said.

“Oh, sorry,” she felt her cheeks warm up, “just thinking.”

“Anything that you wouldn’t mind sharing?”

“Um, I don’t know if-,” she cut herself off, she wasn’t sure that he would understand, but she knew people didn’t like being told that. Actually, most of the villagers didn’t like being reminded that the magic family they’d placed up on a pedestal was full of real people.

“Does it have to do with the new town government?”

“Heh, not this time. And I’m told that if I’m thinking too hard about all that, I start growling,” she said, a bit sheepishly.

“Hm, is it a family matter?”

“No, no, the family is fine.”

“Is it a people thing?”

“A people thing?”

“Yeah, you know, how most people all kind of suck a little,” Juan said, shrugging, “you work so hard to not suck, I’m guessing dealing with people who don’t bother trying to be decent is extra tiring for you.”

Mirabel let her embroidery fall into her lap, and stared at him, letting that sentence revolve around her brain until she had picked out the part that had made her feel a little warmer, she repeated it back to him, “I work hard to not suck?”

“Don’t you?” he asked, and it sounded like an honest question more than he was defending his statement, “I suppose you could have been born as decent as you are, the human brain is such a mysterious machine. It is possible you could be, for lack of a better word, hard wired to be kind.”

“I do work hard at it. I just-,” she paused, trying to figure out how to phrase what she wanted to say. Was it weird to thank him for assuming she wasn’t born a perfect paragon and had to actually try to be a good person.

He waited.

Mirabel watched him wait for her, watched him for any signs of impatience. There were none.

Finally, she said, “I was thinking about the pedestal my family is put on by some of the other villagers.”

“Ah, sí, that,” he nodded, “I apologize for that.”

“Why? You don’t seem to-.”

“I think I do though,” he shook his head, “I’ve been thinking about your response to my theory that people like you because of science. The way you very cruelly laughed at me, that is to say. On reflection, it’s more likely I have you on a pedestal because you’re so kind and talented.”

“Or because you have a crush on me,” Mirabel pointed out without thinking. She immediately grimaced.

Juan froze, then he got very red, “What? No I don’t.”

“Right, yep, sorry, don’t know why I said that,” she immediately said.

He didn’t respond at first. She watched him as his eyes zipped back and forth beneath lowered brows.

Juan suddenly stood and started pacing.

“I do not have a crush on you.”

“Mm-hm.”

“That’s-. No. No I do not.”

“Of course, we can forget I said that,” she said, but Juan was still pacing, scowling at the ground. Every once in a while, he shook his head.

Suddenly he stopped, “I don’t have a crush on you, you’re just especially pretty.”

“Um.”

“No, I know how that sounds, but hear me out,” he held up a finger as if asking for one moment, “You are an especially pretty girl, I am a young man. It is only natural that I would spend this much time thinking about you.”

“Right,” Mirabel said slowly, not wanting to argue with him.

He scowled again, paced a few more laps, then said, “And the reason I think about you more than any of the other pretty girls is probably just because you’re a more interesting person.”

“Juan,” Mirabel said, gently.

“I know how this sounds,” he said, again, “but that’s just-, that’s just a fact. You are one of the most interesting people in the village! You’re creative and witty and highly intelligent. That-. Those are all traits that make a person interesting. It’s not a crush, you’re just pretty and interesting.”

“Ok, ok,” she nodded, slowly standing. She hadn’t meant to give Juan some sort of crisis.

“It’s not a crush,” he insisted.

“No, of course not,” she approached him carefully.

He watched her, once again reddening, “This isn’t a crush, i-it’s just biology.”

“Uh-huh, biology,” she nodded, putting a hand on his shoulder, “would you like to sit back down?”

Juan stared at her for a few beats, then glared at his shoes and grumbled, “I bet every guy my age wants to kiss you. It’s normal.”

Mirabel couldn’t help it. She giggled. His eyes snapped up to her, brimming with betrayal.

“Sorry, sorry, I-. That’s just-. It was a nervous giggle,” she was only mostly lying.

“I’m making you nervous,” he gasped, horrified.

“No, this conversation is,” she clarified, “I don’t know how to respond to uh this.”

“To me not having a crush on you?”

“To you insisting that I’m pretty and interesting and you want to kiss me, but you don’t have a crush on me.”

“I know how it sounds-.”

“Do you?”

He frowned, then sighed deeply, “I have a crush on you, don’t I?”

“I think you might.”

“I am so sorry.”

“I wouldn’t have invited you up here if I minded.”

“Right.”

They stared at each other for a few beats.

“You touch me more than you touch other people who aren’t a part of your family,” he gestured at the hand that was still on his shoulder. With a small spark of surprise, Mirabel realized she liked how blunt he was, it made things easier.

“I know,” Mirabel said, then decided she would be just as blunt back, “I’ve been trying to decide whether or not I should date you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I would like it if you did.”

“I noticed.”

“Right, of course you have,” he sighed again and returned to the couch sinking onto it and putting his head in his hands, “how long have I had a crush on you?”

“I don’t know,” Mirabel shrugged, “at least since the fabric store.”

He groaned, but didn’t say anything. After waiting a while, Mirabel returned to the couch and picked up her embroidery. She worked on it while he sat beside her, apparently grieving.

“Right,” he slapped his knees and stood, “guess I better get to work.”

“Work?” she asked.

“On flirting with you,” he paused to pick up his notebook, “I have a crush on you, and apparently I have an actual chance of being with you, so it would be stupid of me to just sit here panicking.”

“Oh,” Mirabel blinked up at him, “I kind of like being able to sit with you while we do our own thing, though.”

“Oh, then I’ll work on it here,” he sat back down and flipped to a new page in his notebook, “just don’t peek.”

Mirabel blinked at him a few more times, then she giggled again, only this time it wasn’t a single giggle that managed to sneak past her defenses, but a whole army of them.

“Is that a good sign?” he asked, blushing.

“Sí,” she nodded through her laughter.

“Hm,” he nodded thoughtfully and scribbled something in his notebook.

When he did eventually leave, he first ripped out a page with some calculations on it and gave it to her. Circled at the bottom was an estimation of how much string she would use on the blouse by the time she was done with it.

—

The next time she stopped in the market to chat with him, Juan greeted her by saying, “I talked to my sister, she says I’ve had a crush on you since your quinceñeara. And also that I’m not allowed to grow out my sideburns until after her wedding. I will be disowned, and possibly dismembered, if I ruin the wedding pictures.” 

“Oh,” Mirabel quietly filed away the fact that his crush apparently started back when she was still The Giftless One, then asked, “You’ve had a crush on me for over nine years and didn’t notice?”

“Mirabel, I can not emphasize to you enough that my entire personality is math,” he told her, very seriously, “I spend all day sitting around, thinking about two things, you and math. Usually a combination of the two, actually. If you do decide to date me, at the end of every date I will graph how much you laughed, or blushed, or calculate the odds that you enjoyed the main course more than the dessert. There is nothing else in here but numbers. Like a cup full of  dice.”

Mirabel felt a grin slowly stretch across her face.

“I’m serious,” he said, “I mean, I’ll try to be romantic, but unless you think me making a spreadsheet about your favorite coffee mix-ins is romantic, I can’t make any promises.”

“Is this you trying to convince me to date you?”

“This is me trying not to disappoint the woman I’ve apparently had a crush on for a decade,” he said, then he huffed as if frustrated, “Can you believe I’ve had a crush on you for a decade and my sister never told me?”

“I mean, she probably assumed you knew,” Mirabel pointed out.

He shook his head, “No, she said she thought it was funny that I didn’t.”

“Ah, that-. Yeah, that’s the sorta thing Isabela or Camilo would do,” Mirabel reached over the counter of the bean stall to put her hand on his shoulder, “at least you know now.”

“It was a little easier to look at you when I didn’t,” he said, eyes skittering away from her as a grumpy pout pushed out his lower lip.

Mirabel found herself giggling a little.

“You promise that’s a good sign,” he double checked, sounding equal parts weary and wary.

“Sí, you’re-,” she stopped herself before she called him adorable, Camilo had made it very clear that most men did not like that, “charming.”

Juan considered this, then slowly nodded, “I can deal with that.”

“Señorita Madrigal,” a voice interrupted them, Mirabel turned to find Señor Rivierra waving her down, “do you have a moment to discuss the elections for city council?”

Mirabel bit her lip and glanced at Juan. She didn’t actually want to leave, but she did want to talk about the elections with Señor Rivierra.

“Go ahead,” Juan quietly said, “I’ll be here whenever you got a free moment.”

“I’m going to work on your sister’s gift at Lucia’s after the market closes, I know Jo and Adelaide will be there today, you should come spend time with us,” Mirabel invited him, “help me get to know Adelaide.��

“I would love that,” he smiled quietly, “I honestly can’t think of a better way to spend an evening.”

“Great, I’ll see you there,” she squeezed his arm, then drew back. As she walked away with Señor Rivierra, she kept finding herself looking back at him over her shoulder. He waved at her every time she did.

—

“Hey Má,” Mirabel walked into the backyard two days later, “you got a minute to share some motherly wisdom?”

Her Má glanced up from her herb garden with a bright smile, “Oh, I have all the time in the world for my brilliant daughter.”

Mirabel fondly rolled her eyes, although now that she had two nephews, Mirabel was beginning to understand the urge to gush over the kids in your life. Still, she good-naturedly groaned, “Má.”

“What? It’s true,” Julieta shrugged, clipping off a few more sprigs of cilantro, “come into the kitchen with me. Tell me what you need.”

Mirabel followed her mother and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. For a few minutes she watched her Má bustle around the kitchen, getting a soup started, it would seem.

“How did you know Pá loves you for you, and not for the whole Madrigal thing?” Mirabel asked.

“Oh, is this about Juan,” her mother threw her a somewhat sly smile, a teasing glint in her eye.

Mirabel bypassed the teasing however, “I’m surprised you know his name. It kinda seems like nobody does.”

Even Jo called him “the bean guy” half the time.

“He got tutored by your father when he was, oh gosh, ten years old perhaps. Your Pá was very impressed by his head for numbers,” Julieta grinned a little conspiratorially, “and he is dying to know if you two are dating.”

“I’m thinking about it,” Mirabel said slowly, “but I-. I want to be with somebody who likes Mirabel, not y’know, Mirabel Madrigal.”

“Hm, sí. You, as usual, are wise beyond your years,” Julieta shrugged a little rueful grin on her face, “I didn’t notice the difference between being loved for who I am and being admired for my gift until I had been dating your father for six months. I suppose I didn’t realize going into it that he saw me for me, it was only when we had our first fight and he was still just as in love with me afterwards that it clicked.”

“Your first fight, huh?”

“Sí, I have done my best to shield you from how petty I can be,” Julieta gave her a sheepish smile, “but you can ask your Tía about that. There was this one Christmas-, you know how hard it is to shop for your Tío Bruno, sí? Well, there was this one Christmas I had come up with the perfect idea for him, I told Pepa, and your lovely Tía stole it before I could get to the market. Oh, I was furious. And I did not handle it with grace.”

“What’d you do?”

“Well, first of all she stole the idea at the end of October, and I gave her the silent treatment until I had found a new gift,” her mother paused for dramatic effect, “half way through December.”

“No. Má, a whole month?”

“Sí, a whole month. And a half. Plus I cooked her least favorite foods for dinner every night, that entire time.”

“Má!”

“Like I said, I have a petty streak,” she shrugged, “and your Pá saw it but loved me all the same. He didn’t lay down and take it, mind you. He told me flat out if I treated our kids that way he would never trust me alone with them, but he didn’t love me any less once he saw my imperfections.”

Mirabel contemplated this. Weirdly, it reminded her of her recent conversation with Juan in the market, of the way he had tried to warn her flat out what he thought she might not like. She doubted the math thing would ever actually bother her, she was way more bothered about the way he still occasionally put himself down, but none of that was a deal breaker for her. 

She tried to think about what parts of her might be a deal breaker for him, it was hard though, so far he had been so easy going she couldn’t imagine him getting truly annoyed by much of anything.

Her Má paused what she was doing to face Mirabel, “I know you’re not anywhere near being there yet, but when your Pá and I started thinking about marriage, I kept thinking about that conversation. About his conviction that he would protect you guys from me if I ever slipped up. At the end of the day, that was what I wanted most out of a husband. Not just somebody who loved me warts and all, but somebody who I could count on to hold me accountable when it came to our kids. Parenting is hard, nobody gets it exactly right, and having somebody who’ll carry the load with you is important.”

Julieta didn’t say it, but they were both thinking of how Abuela had been forced to raise her own children alone, and all the problems that had caused. More than ever, it was clear that Abuela loved her familia, however; nobody was perfect. She had had nobody around to make up for what she lacked, she had gone decades without anyone who could call her out on mistakes she hadn’t noticed herself making. And the triplets had suffered for it.

But, Mirabel realized, all of the work Abuela had put into making things up to the familia had demonstrated better than any hug how much Abuela cared.

So she didn’t need to be perfect, she didn’t even need to find somebody with whom she could be a perfect parenting duo. She just needed somebody who saw her imperfections, loved her despite them, and was honest with her when she made mistakes.

She hugged her mother, thanked her for her time and wisdom, then went up to her room and gathered some paper and pencils. Mirabel made it to the market just before close, and spent some time milling about, checking in with a few of the villagers. When the market closed and people started packing up, she approached Juan’s stall and waited patiently while he transferred all the beans into the storage shed.

“Hola, what can I do for you?” he asked, traces of his customer service voice lingering after a long day of work.

“I want you to teach me how to do your favorite formula, the quantum one,” she said.

Juan blinked at her a few times, then in a very calm voice said, “Marry me.”

Mirabel snorted and giggled, “I’m serious.”

“I kind of am too,” Juan said, shaking his head and laughing a little, “what’s brought this on?”

“I’ll explain after,” she shrugged.

“Alright,” he said slowly, then gestured for her to follow him, “uh, how much math do you know? Did you ever learn any calculus?”

“Um, no, I learned some geometry in school, some accounting from my Pá, and I’ve been learning some statistics for the whole town government thing,” she said.

“Statistics? How about we do that instead,” he held his front door open for her, “so you can actually use whatever you learn.”

“I didn’t bring my statistics book,” she pointed out, she’d thought she’d be learning some theoretical physics.

“I have a few, I’m guessing you’re trying to learn how to best interpret polls and stuff?”

“Sí, and to figure out when we need to add another school, where to put it, how to divide up the students,” Mirabel rattled off, “oh, and where to put the different polling locations to make voting as easy as possible for everybody.”

“Let’s do the polling location thing, I helped with the census you guys did a few months back, so I should have all the data we need,” he said, leading her down the hall to his room.

“Works for me,” she followed him into his room, pausing in the door to take it in.

She was not surprised to see the two floor to ceiling bookshelves either side his desk, each filled with titles like “Differential Calculus”, “All about Angles”, and “The Math of Divinity”. She was surprised to realize she recognized something in a picture frame by his bed. It was a little card she had made, one of dozens to be honest, she had passed them out at the end of her quinceñeara to thank guests for coming. Each one had been shaped like a butterfly, and she’d used yarn leftover from other projects to “embroider” the patterns on the butterfly’s wings. He had it displayed so that the card was open, the butterfly’s wings were spread. Quietly, she picked it up.

“Looking back, knowing what I do now, I think that butterfly is what got my attention,” Juan said, coming up behind her. She could feel his warmth at her back.

“Really? This?”

“Sí, it’s so simple, but so creative,” he said, “and you went through the trouble of making at least one for every family that came. It’s-. You’ve always been so good at striking that balance between being absolutely brilliant, and genuinely warm. At the time I… I would have given anything to do the same.”

“This was-. Back then I really wanted people to see me as being just as special as the rest of my family,” she admitted, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. Even nine years after the fact she didn’t like telling people how much she’d hungered for approval.

“It worked,” Juan said, then paused, when she glanced at him over her shoulder he looked thoughtful, “at least, it worked on me. Although I think I’ve always assumed there was some reason you didn’t get a gift, some factor in the equation that hadn’t been revealed yet. It makes no logical sense otherwise.”

Mirabel sighed, nodding. Ever since the miracle had been reborn, an assumption had bubbled up among the villagers. She’d overheard two people discussing it shortly after the miracle came back.

“-with the way she’s stepped up, just like a mini Alma, it would make sense,” the woman who sold tea on Saturdays said, sitting in her stall at just the wrong angle to see Mirabel.

“I don’t get why the magic couldn’t just stay in the candle, though,” the man who was leaning against the side of the stall replied, not looking over his shoulders to see Mirabel right behind him.

“I don’t either, but what’s more likely? That the grandkid who takes after Dona Alma the most didn’t get a gift, but just so happened to have magic to repair the miracle as a complete coincidence; or, that she’s the miracle’s chosen successor,” the woman said, “I just hope we don’t have to build a new house every time the magic passes on.”

It wasn’t that Mirabel hadn’t considered it. It wasn’t exactly a huge leap. It was more a perfectly normal sized step. And she knew other people, including her Abuela, had reached the same conclusion. But her Abuela, her entire familia, approached it differently than the villagers did.

“I never should have gotten so caught up in the miracle,” Alma had said the morning after Mirabel’s twentieth, shaking her head, “if I had just taken a step back I would have seen it so much sooner. You have always been-.”

“You’re b-basically all the best parts of this family concentrated into a little ball of crafts and attitude,” Bruno had jumped in, holding his fingers together and squinting at them as if he was trying to read something on a tiny piece of paper, “it was such a shock that you didn’t get a gift, I-I think we just-. I dunno.”

Alma had given her son a fond smile as he shrugged and waved away the sentence he’d abandoned, they had been standing in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to brew, she eyed it as she spoke, “We couldn’t see the forest for all the trees. If I hadn’t allowed the miracle to define us so, I may have noticed sooner what an incredible young woman you were becoming.”

“There were a lot of things we shouldn’t and should have done,” Tío Bruno said, eyeing the walls that no longer held a secret corridor to his secret room, “but uh I guess if one of us had stepped up and done all that communicating stuff, we would have been the ones to bring the magic back.”

It was a small difference between “turns out Mirabel was special because she was chosen by the miracle all along” and “Mirabel was chosen by the miracle because it turns out she was special all along”. But it was a small difference that made a big impact.

Lately, Mirabel had been feeling closer and closer to her family, but just a little farther from the rest of the village. Lately, she had been put up on the same pedestal as the rest of her family, and she sort of missed being among the crowds.

But even worse than that, “It stings a little, that none of this worked. That all the hard work and passion I put into being creative and helpful never earned me any real respect. But that putting a doorknob in a door did.”

“What do you mean? This is impressive,” Juan reached around her to gently hold the part of the frame she wasn’t, “and people have always loved you. How-? I am honestly asking, respect must have been, I don’t know, how could they not respect you?”

Mirabel smiled, turning fully to look at him, “It isn’t that people didn’t like me, or that they looked down on me. They pitied me. I used to get things for free, not because I helped watch everybody’s kids, or because I played the accordion at so and so’s wedding, but because I was the only Madrigal without a gift. The good ol’ not special, special. Pity isn’t respect.”

“If they only respect you for the doorknob, is that actually respect?”

“I don’t know,” Mirabel shrugged, “this is-, all of this, the way people look at me now that they assume I have magic, the pedestal my family’s on, all of that, it’s been bothering me lately.”

“Only lately?”

“It’s slowly built up over the past nine years,” she admitted, “at first it was really nice to finally feel like ‘a real Madrigal’, and it took a few years for that to fade. When I turned twenty people suddenly started talking about me getting married and it made me think about what the rest of my life is going to look like. And over the past four years, well… it’s slowly sinking in that all this stuff is just going to be a part of my life forever now. I’ve spent so much of the past nine years solving problems, realizing these ones are out of my control is driving me a little crazy.”

“That makes sense,” he nodded, “that sounds pretty frustrating.”

Mirabel looked up at him, he wasn’t that much taller than her, it was entirely possible he was the exact height you’d get if you took an average of everybody in town. She examined him openly, and he stood quietly, letting her.

“It’ll be a part of my spouse’s life, and my kids’,” she warned him quietly, “the village does genuinely love us, b-but they love us as leaders, not as neighbors. Being with me means being seen as something a little bit other.”

Juan cocked his head, “I hadn’t considered that.”

Mirabel gulped, waiting to see what he’d say next.

“I will have to think about it,” he eventually declared, “but I suppose that’s the point of dating, isn’t it? To test out what a life together would look like.”

Mirabel shrugged, while shaking her head minutely, “I’m pretty sure the point of going on dates is to spend quality time together. At least, that’s why my parents do it.”

“Ah, I will keep that in mind,” he nodded, then he seemed to settle back on his heels, as if waiting for something. After a few beats, she realized he was waiting to see if she would talk about her thoughts and worries some more.

Mirabel really kind of hoped she was right about him. That this would work out and she’d end up with this quiet, kind of strange man who listened to her and admired her hard earned skills and bluntly spoke his mind.

“You uh wanna get started on this math lesson?” she prompted.

“I would absolutely love to,” he said, “here, sit, I’ll grab another chair and all the census data we need.”

The rest of the afternoon and evening was fairly frustrating for both of them. Juan never once raised his voice, grew snide, or implied she lacked intelligence, but she quickly learned that when he was annoyed he’d clench his jaw and sigh through his nose. On the other side, Mirabel struggled to grasp some of the more esoteric equations, but absolutely refused to just let him do the math for her, or even to let him move on to the next concept until she’d correctly explained what he’d just taught her back to him. 

When they were informed dinner was on the table (and Mirabel was given a last minute invitation to said dinner), they packed up their calculations in tense silence.

Once everything was cleaned up, Mirabel put a hand on Juan’s arm to keep him from leaving the room. She took a few deep breaths and reminded herself why she put the two of them through this.

“Do you still have a crush on me?” she asked.

“Oh, after seeing how hard you’ll work to understand things, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you,” he said, but he was scowling, “however I never want to do that again.”

Mirabel chuckled, “To be honest, neither do I. But I kinda have to do stuff like this if I want to help our village.”

“Fuck our village,” Juan sighed, rubbing at his temple, “I don’t mean that, but also I do feel it. Deeply.”

“Yeah, I do too sometimes,” she also sighed.

“You are incredible, that sucked though,” he said, “I deeply admire how dedicated you are, that you didn’t try to cut a single corner, but I am dreading the next time we do this.”

“Well, at least this miserable experience has brought us closer together,” she laughed a little.

“Has it?”

After a split second’s hesitation, she stepped into his space and kissed him on the cheek, “It has.”

Face burning, she fled down the hall as calmly as she could manage. He caught up with her a few seconds later.

“On second thought, I am happy to do this again tomorrow if it means you’ll kiss me,” he informed her, voice light but matter of fact.

When they reached the dining room Mirabel was giggling.

—

Mirabel had just put the last stitch on the last flower on the blouse for Juan’s sister, when somebody knocked at her door. She put the blouse down and stood, walking over to the door and trying her best not to get her hopes up. When she opened the door it was just Camilo.

“Oh, it’s you,” she sighed, accidentally letting her disappointment leak into her voice. She hadn’t really seen Juan all week. He’d sought her out a few times after the math lesson, then suddenly stopped, but continued to light up whenever she stopped to chat with him at the market. Unfortunately, people were starting up their campaigns for city council, and she only had seconds to spare throughout her day.

Camilo, strangely enough, didn’t tease her for her obvious disappointment. He didn’t say anything. He just crossed his arms, leaned on the door frame, and stared at her, eyes narrowed.

“Did you need something?” she asked.

“The bean guy?”

“He has a name, y’know.”

“Sure, sure, sure. I’m sure he does. And you know? He seems real nice. But… why?”

“He’s a good listener, I like his sense of humor, we can relax togeth-,” Mirabel paused, then sighed, “he’s downstairs waiting for me, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but I left him with Tío Bruno, so they’re probably happy to talk about weird stuff together.”

“They are two different genres of weird,” Mirabel grumbled, pushing past her cousin. Sure enough, when she got downstairs, Tío Bruno was once again staring at Juan like he was a Swedish book of riddles.

“How about basket weaving?”

“Nope, just math.”

“Flower arranging?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Finger puppets?”

“Afraid not.”

“Interpretive dance?”

“Mm no, just math.”

“3D printing?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Right, yeah, I think it’s from the future. Sorry. Uuuh? How about making hedgehogs out of your handprint?”

“Like in school?”

“Sí.”

“Uh no, not since I was nine.”

Mirabel cleared her throat before Bruno could continue the interrogation. Juan was visibly relieved, while Tío Bruno turned to look at her, mouth screwed up in confusion. She tried to signal with her eyes that she wanted him to leave, but he either ignored or didn’t notice the nonverbal request. Mirabel sighed.

“Juan, just in time, I just finished your sister’s blouse,” she said, “would you like to come up and see it?”

“I-, sí, very much so,” he nodded, looking two parts eager and one part uncomfortable as Tío Bruno continued to examine the both of them.

“Great, let’s go,” she took his hand and pulled him towards the stairs as soon as he’d taken it.

Behind them, Tío Bruno muttered, “Weird.” in a voice that wasn’t nearly as quiet as he probably thought it was.

Mirabel rolled her eyes and was about to apologize to Juan, when she noticed Camilo was “casually” leaning on the rail between the stairs and her room. She glared at him while they passed, but he pretended not to notice. Mirabel pushed through her door and closed it, narrowing her eyes at Camilo as he strolled closer as if he just sort of happened to be wandering on over. The last thing she saw as the door closed was the Oh So Innocent look on his face.

“Are you sure your family doesn’t hate me?” Juan asked, as soon as the door was closed.

“No, Tío Bruno talks to you, that means he likes you,” she said, then turned to her door and shouted, “and Camilo is just a nosey asshole!”

“Yeah Bean Guy, don’t let it get to you,” Camilo called back, and if Juan wasn’t already looking so nervous she would have gone out and smacked the smarmy grin Camilo was definitely wearing off his stupid face. She glared at the door, then dragged Juan further into her room where Camilo wouldn’t be able to hear them.

“Anyway! Hola, how’ve you been,” she said, once she thought they were far enough from the door.

“Uh frustrated, to be honest.”

“Oh. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he shook his head, “but I’ve been working on something that I am not good at.”

That said, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a knit flower on a choker. It was Mirabel’s favorite shade of teal, with a yellow center and a green leaf. On the blue ribbon of the choker there were tiny maroon butterflies lining the top and bottom of the ribbon. 

Mirabel gasped, “You made this?”

“Sí, it took me all week and Josephine had to stop by my place once a day to show me how to fix my mistakes. I had to redo the ribbon four times, but I’ve done it. I have made you a necklace,” he held it out to her, looking genuinely proud of himself, “I chose the yarn for the flower based on the fact you wear that shade of teal sixty percent more than any other color. Then I had Josephine and my sister help with colors to match it.”

Mirabel bypassed the choker to hug him. Well, technically she pounced on him, but she couldn’t think of any other way to express how she felt.

“Well, that’s a good sign,” Juan said, wrapping his arms around her, “right?”

“Sí.”

“Great! Would you like to be my date for my sister’s wedding?”

“Sí.”

“Even better,” he said, still holding her. He was warm, and delightfully sturdy. A part of her just wanted to stand there and rest against him for the rest of the day. She had a meeting with the city council candidates tomorrow to discuss campaigning rules and it would be nice to spend the day relaxing against him. However, she was pretty sure they should actually go on a few dates before she asked him to spend thirteen hours holding her.

Slowly, Mirabel released him, he took his cue from her and let her go. When they were far enough apart that she could see his face, he was grinning ear to ear. She smiled fondly up at him.

“Will you put it on me?” 

“Oh, sí, of course,” he held the necklace up as she turned around and carefully put it around her neck, buttoning it in the back while she held her hair up out of the way. When she turned back to him he saw his hard work on her neck, and his grin got just a little wider.

Mirabel chuckled a little, “Feels really good seeing somebody wearing something you worked hard on, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, incredible, but uh, this is probably something I’m not doing again,” he chuckled a little sheepishly, “at least, not without your help. Josephine kept smacking me.”

Mirabel giggled at the mental image, “She can be very outspoken about her opinions.”

“Outspoken is one thing, but why’d she hit me?” he grumbled, shaking his head, then he perked up, “Anyway! You said you finished my sister’s blouse?”

“I did, come on,” she took his hand again and led him to the couch where she’d been working on the blouse. After double checking that the last stitch was secure, she took it out of the embroidery hoop and handed it to him. He held it up, eyes meticulously roving over every detail.

“Maybe I’ll just keep it, frame it in my room like the butterfly you made,” he said, not taking his eyes off the flower chain on the collar.

“Oh no you don’t, this is some of the best work I’ve ever done, I want to see her wearing it,” she put her hands on her hips, “now, what about her husband?”

“Her husband?”

“Sí, it’s a wedding gift, no? You’re generally supposed to give things for both the bride and groom,” Mirabel pointed out.

“Oh, uh, right. That guy.”

“That guy?” she snorted, shaking her head, “Do you not like him or something?”

“No, I do. But you know how it is, she’s my only sister, I guess I imagined a prince would swoop in and make her a princess,” Juan shrugged, sitting on the couch, “I like him, and I like seeing her happy, but I guess it just feels weird to see her marry a real person.”

“You have a brother, don’t you?” Mirabel asked, sitting next to him, “Isn’t he married?”

“Ah, sí, but he was married and helping his wife care for his in-laws at their place, by the time I was born, so he’s more like an uncle. Honestly, I’m closer to my sister in law than I am to my brother,” he shrugged, “but my sister. She was my first friend. It’s kinda sad, you know, seeing her move onto the next step of life. A step that involves her leaving our home.”

Mirabel smiled sympathetically but couldn’t offer anything more than a hand in his. Madrigals did not move out of Casita, people who married Madrigals moved in. She’s never had to worry about her siblings and cousins dispersing to the wind.

Juan sighed, and flashed her a bittersweet smile, “But you’re right, I should get him something too.”

“I can embroider something for him that matches,” she said, “what does he usually wear?”

“Hats,” Juan said, “he is always wearing a hat. He’s balding.”

“Hats, ok, I’ll make him a hat with a matching pattern on the brim,” she said, “do you know what his head size is?”

“No, but I know where he gets his hats, I’m sure if we tell the hatter that we’re making a wedding gift, he’ll give us any information you need,” he started to stand, “oh, if you don’t mind going right now.”

“No, not at all,” she also stood, “we should do this quickly.”

They left hand in hand and strolled their way down to the hatter’s shop, talking about their families and gifts and weddings. The hatter loved the idea of giving the couple matching clothes, and gave them a hat for free, so long as they agreed to put his name on the card. On their way back, they stopped for some coffee and a couple pastries. Then they spent the rest of their day sitting together on her couch. Her embroidering the hat, him calculating how much string she’d ended up using on the blouse.

In a year, they would have a small spat over whether that counted as their first date, or whether their first date was a week later when they got lunch together. The spat wasn’t serious, but Mirabel had been working on Juan’s gift with the later deadline in mind and was embarrassed it wasn’t finished. Meanwhile, Juan had gotten what he considered to be their anniversary engraved on the ring he’d gotten her, and he wasn’t sure how to explain that without giving away the surprise.

Ultimately, Mirabel let him win when he got down on one knee. She had found somebody who wanted to marry her even when she was being stubborn and sarcastic. That made her the real winner in the long run.