#senora guzman

[jacarandaaaas]

I got bored and made this

anyone else love granny beef🔥

[icecry]

『Visions of the past....』

Some more colored panels from the flashback in Chapter 3 of Thief and the Prophet. The atmosphere is such a refreshing change. It isn't just Bruno's memories that are painful.

Happy New Year!✨

[marcmarcmomarc]

Kingdom Hearts IV predictions: The Encanto (Encanto)

Takes place after the movie.

Is visited by Sora.

Starring the voices of:

Mirabel Madrigal: STEPHANIE BEATRIZ

Abuela Alma Madrigal: MARÍA CECILIA BOTERO

Abuela Alma Madrigal (songs): OLGA MEREDIZ

Bruno Madrigal: JOHN LEGUIZAMO

Luisa Madrigal: JESSICA DARROW

Isabela Madrigal: DIANE GUERRERO

Julieta Madrigal: ANGIE CEPEDA

Agustín Madrigal: DEMIÁN BICHIR

Pepa Madrigal: CAROLINA GAITÁN

Félix Madrigal: MAURO CASTILLO

Camilo Madrigal: RHENZY FELIZ

Dolores Madrigal: ADASSA

Antonio Madrigal: RAVI CABOT-CONYERS

Mariano Guzmán: MALUMA

Sra. Guzmán: ROSE PORTILLO

Town Kids: ALYSSA BELLA CANDIANI, NOEMI JOSEFINA FLORES, PAISLEY DAY HERRERA, BROOKLYN SKYLAR RODRIGUEZ, & EZRA RUDOLPH

Pico: ALAN TUDYK

[foggyfanfic]

How Mariano Got Betrothed to the Wrong Madrigal

Oneshot Preview: Thankfully, Isabela was his best friend, and knew him well enough to read the answer on his face, “So why are you going along with this?”

“With…?”

“With this! With our abuelas setting us up?”

Now, nobody had ever accused Mariano of being an intellectual. In fact, he was frequently accused of the exact opposite. Which was fine, kinda hurtful, but he couldn’t be too upset about being called stupid.

Not after this marvelous mess up.

It started on the first day of school, he just happened to be the same age as the two oldest Madrigal kids, and was thus sat at the same table as them. Isabela was fun, but she hogged all of the brightest crayons, except for red. 

Red belonged to Dolores.

Dolores was patient, even at the young age of six. It seemed like it didn’t matter how many times he needed help, she always gave it. The three of them played together everyday at recess, Dolores would be the princess, he would be the shining knight, and Isabela took great delight in being the plant breathing dragon.

Then they grew up. Not instantly, of course, little by little.

The first sign of their impending adulthood was when Isabela came to school in a brand new dress and said, “Abuela says I want to be the princess sometimes.”

“Oh, ok,” Mariano agreed, because he knew how important it was to listen to your abuela.

Dolores being the dragon was kind of fun anyways, because she didn’t have plant powers so they had to wrestle for the princess. Unfortunately, Isabela got bored with that game a little while after that and they had to find a new one.

Time marched on, and slowly by slowly, Isabela started wearing more dresses she wasn’t allowed to get dirty. Both Mariano and Dolores missed playing with her, even if she did hog the brightest crayons. 

However.

If Mariano could go back in time, he would not have mentioned to his abuela that he missed playing with Isabela.

When they were nine, going on ten, both Isabela and Dolores were promised visions from their Tío for their birthdays. Isabela was all smiles the day after she got her vision. Dolores avoided him for a week after she got hers.

When they were eleven, Mariano realized that his favorite games to play with Dolores all involved wrestling. And really weird, he didn’t mind losing to her when they wrestled. Dolores would huff and pout at him if he tried to wrestle with her when she wore her favorite red skirt, and although he didn’t like to make her upset, he thought she was cute when she pouted.

At thirteen he realized why he liked wrestling with Dolores. His parents raised him to be a gentleman, so he stopped.

At fifteen, he started planning their wedding. It would be wonderful, he would read her a poem for his vows, and she would speak hers so quietly it would sound like a secret just for him. Isabela would make a bouquet of deep red roses for Dolores, and he would pluck one out to put in her hair.

She always looked so beautiful in red.

At sixteen, Romero asked Dolores out, she said yes.

To Mariano’s great relief they only went on two dates. However, he couldn’t ignore what it meant that Dolores had agreed to date Romero in the first place. She didn’t see him the same way he saw her.

Nobody ever accused Mariano of being an intellectual, but he liked to think he was raised right. When a woman demonstrates that she doesn’t have feelings for you, you respect that.

He tried just being her friend, but it seemed as they grew, she just became more and more beautiful. Eventually, he realized if he wanted to get over her, he would need space. Mariano spent a month torturing himself, trying to think of a different way to move on, but then she giggled at a joke her little brother made and it felt like somebody had wrenched his heart out of his chest to give to her.

So, at seventeen, he began hanging out with the other boys his age instead of Dolores. He still spoke to her at parties, and if he happened to run into her at the market, and of course, when their abuelas decided their families should have dinner together.

And he still loved her.

No matter how much time passed, Mariano still loved Dolores more than he could ever say. He tried writing poems about his feelings, but the words paled in comparison, so he gave up and wrote poems about other things.

When he was twenty he noticed Isabela dancing in the square, spreading flowers around. Dolores was just behind her, smiling quietly. Isabela made Dolores a red and orange flower crown and Mariano couldn’t hold back a sigh at how beautiful she was.

“She’s quite graceful, isn’t she?” his abuela asked, seemingly appearing out of thin air by his shoulder.

“Oh, uh, sí. She is,” he glanced nervously between his abuela and Dolores, who stood with her usual poise.

“And quite beautiful.”

“Sí,” Mariano gulped, did she know?

“I remember you two used to play together everyday at school.”

“Sí,” Mariano said, failing to keep all of his longing out of his voice.

“How long have you had these feelings for her?”

He stuttered and babbled for a little, but she just watched him with a knowing grin, so he gave in and admitted, “Since we were children, but she doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Oh? Are you sure?”

“Sí.”

“Have you asked her?”

“Uh.”

“Mariano, mijo, you can not know a woman’s true feelings unless you ask her.”

He blinked at his abuela for a little, then turned to look past Isabela at Dolores. She was very quiet, and usually very good at keeping secrets. Was it wishful thinking driving him to listen to his abuela? Or did he have a chance?

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said.

“Of course I am, now go ask her.”

Mariano nodded, and started to walk away, before he remembered himself. Dutifully, he turned back to press a kiss to his abuela’s cheek, and thank her for her council. When he turned around, Dolores was gone.

He frowned, slowly approaching Isabela as he searched the crowd for a flash of red. She noticed him and waved, he waved back then pushed through the crowd so he could speak to her.

“Where’d Dolores go?”

Isabela paused in her dancing to look over at where Dolores had been standing, finger halfway raised to point. She deflated a little when she noticed her cousin was gone.

“I don’t know,” she frowned a little, then looked quickly at her audience and with a magnanimous smile rained flowers down on them.

“You don’t have to stop on my account,” he said, recognizing the flower confetti as the finale it was.

“No, I wanted to do some shopping with her,” Isabela waved at people as she broke through the crowd, gifting a few of the children with extra flowers, “she’s so good at picking things Abuela likes.”

“Oh, great, then we can look for her together,” he smiled, “been a while since we spent any time together.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” she huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head, “When was the last time? New years?”

“Sí, sí, sounds right,” he eyed Dolores’ favorite fruit stand as they passed it, “how’ve you been?”

“Oh, wonderful,” she was also looking at the stand, then turned to peek into the book shop, “I recently learned how to do a new trick on my vines.”

“Oh?” Mariano asked with genuine interest, he remembered how much Isabela enjoyed her acrobatics, “I would love to see it!”

Isabela flashed him a warm smile, then glanced down at her fluttery lavender dress, “You should come by Casita for lunch tomorrow, I can show it to you then.”

It had been forever since he’d gone to Casita for lunch, and he suddenly realized how much he’d missed the sentient house. He had spent many an afternoon playing hide and seek there, but recently he’d only been when he was accompanying his abuela and had to be on his best behavior. Plus, it meant that even if he couldn’t find Dolores today, he could talk to her tomorrow.

“I would love that!”

“Great. I’ll let everybody know.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon looking for Dolores, and when they didn’t find her, he helped Isabela pick out some cloth for a new dress.

“I definitely want something purple,” Isabela said, looking over the bolts of fabric, “Abuela says it compliments my skin tone the best.”

Mariano, used to helping his Mamá with her shopping, hummed thoughtfully and reached for a deep purple linen. Isabela looked at it, and her eyes got all bright, a smile twitched at her lips. 

Then she stood up just a little straighter, folded her hands over themselves and said, “It’s lovely, but I prefer pastels.”

Mariano felt his brow wrinkle, because it had looked like Isabela had been really excited about it for a second, but then again, he could be wrong. It had certainly happened before.

He helped her select a different bolt of purple. A pastel purple. The shopkeeper offered her a steep discount in exchange for fresh flowers to fill all of her vases.

Isabela obliged with the same perfect smile she used to use when she was playing the princess.

They parted ways not long after, Mariano reported to his abuela that he would be having lunch at Casita the next day and she’d cheered. He did not realize until later the misunderstanding that had taken place, and by then, it wouldn’t matter.

Dolores didn’t make an appearance at lunch the next day, but Mirabel did.

He watched Isabela and Mirabel snipe at each other, even as they planned what embroidery Mirabel would put on Isabela’s new dress.

“That’s too many colors,” Isabela said.

Mirabel rolled her eyes, “You know, you used to like colors, back when you weren’t boring.”

“I’m not boring, I’m an adult, with a little something called responsibilities,” Isabela hissed.

Mirabel rolled her eyes even harder.

Mariano chuckled, accidentally drawing both their attention. Isabela sat up straight, primly folding her hands in her lap, but Mirabel pushed the sketchbook towards him. Coincidentally, although he didn’t think much of it at the time, Señora Alma walked into the kitchen at that exact moment.

“What do you think, Mariano?” Mirabel asked, voice friendly, but sharp eyes pointed at Isabela.

“Oh, uh,” he might not have been the brightest crayon in the box, but even he knew a trap when he saw one, “I think Isabela looks perfectly lovely in everything.”

He did not notice Señora Alma turning to examine him.

Mirabel gave him an unamused look, not fooled by his hedging, “Great. But what design do you like best?”

Mariano gulped and looked down at the sketch book, then he said, “Oh! How about the one with the little avocado? It’s like that character you and Dolores made up when we were in school, remember?”

“Doctor Avocado?” Isabela blinked into the middle distance, a slow smile growing across her face, she chuckled quietly, “I’m surprised you remember that, it’s been years since I thought about any of that stuff.”

Mariano shrugged a little sheepishly, then admitted, “I still have the drawings you made.”

And here’s where Mariano truly messed up, because personally he felt everything up to this point wasn’t really his fault. Technically, what Mariano meant to say was “I have the drawings you guys made”, which involved using the plural form of “you”; however, his mind was on Dolores and Dolores only, so without thinking he used the singular, familiar, form of “you”. It was a small detail, and even though he heard his own mistake, he didn’t think it important enough to correct it, but it’s one of those mistakes that snowballed into a really big problem. Like when he assumed the dog could be trusted not to jump on the kitchen counter while Mariano ran to the bathroom really quick.

Because what Señora Alma apparently heard was “My dearest Isabela, I have treasured that most fine art of an avocado with a medical practice for all these years simply because it was crafted by your perfect hand.”

Isabela did not end up picking the design with the little avocado, instead she went with a much more understated design. One with little pastel flowers that gracefully tumbled down her pastel skirts. Mariano finished lunch with the two sisters, then lingered in the courtyard with Isabela, hoping Dolores would make an appearance. He finally left in defeat when the sun rested on the tops of the mountains.

Fortunately (at least he thought it was fortunate) Señora Alma started inviting him and his abuela over for dinner more often.

Unfortunately (and he was correct about this being unfortunate) Dolores was always seated at the opposite end of the table from him, and barely looked at him whenever he was around.

Once again, Mariano sat himself down, and forced himself to accept that Dolores just wasn’t interested in him that way. Despite what his abuela had said.

At least he was rekindling his friendship with Isabela. They had a lot in common, both were the eldest grandchildren and carried the weight of their abuelas’ expectations. He had missed her, to a certain extent, and it was nice talking to somebody who understood what it was like to stand in front of a mirror and practice saying “Sí Abuela” in just the right tone of voice. His male friends had apparently never done that, and had in fact teased him for being vain when he’d asked. They hadn’t understood that it wasn’t about vanity, he didn’t need to look good for the sake of aesthetics, he needed to be neat and well groomed in order to set the proper example for his younger siblings and cousins. Isabela understood that, better than anyone else.

One day, his abuela asked him to take Isabela to the market, to get her help picking out gifts for the young girls in the family. Isabela had agreed, but had walked a little slower than usual, and kept getting distracted.

“Is something wrong?” he eventually asked, when he finally realized she was frowning and sighing a lot more than usual.

“I-. Well, I don’t know,” Isabela glanced at him, then at the market as it passed by around them, “Mariano, how do you feel about me?”

“What do you mean? You’re my best friend,” he had answered, because by that point she was.

“That’s it?”

“Uh, sí? Why? Has somebody-.”

“Do you… have feelings for me?”

Mariano’s eyebrows almost jumped off his face, he should have said “No” and would have said “No” but he was a bit busy gaping at her. It had never occurred to him that Isabela was somebody he even could have feelings for.

The silence dragged on without him denying his feelings out loud, forcing anyone who might overhear the exchange to draw her own pessimistic conclusions. The silence dragged on so long, in fact, that if any eavesdropping pessimists had decided she didn’t want to overhear confirmation of what she thought was destined to happen, then that eavesdropping pessimist had plenty of time to escape to the soundproofed portion of her room. Another thing he didn’t realize was a mistake until much later.

Thankfully, Isabela was his best friend, and knew him well enough to read the answer on his face, “So why are you going along with this?”

“With…?”

“With this! With our abuelas setting us up?”

He gaped at her a little more.

She frowned at him.

Silence stretched between them once more.

“Mariano, you do realize that’s what’s been happening? Don’t you?”

He could only shake his head.

She groaned, “What did you think was happening?!”

“I- I don’t know, I just thought… we’re friends,” he shrugged, “that’s-. Aren’t we friends?”

Isabela softened, she smiled a little, “Sí, we’re friends.”

“Bien, that’s uh, that’s good,” he frowned down at his shoes, then looked back up at her and asked, “they’ve been trying to set us up?”

“Sí, for months now, my abuela is starting to hint at marriage,” Isabela said. They had slowed to a standstill as he had processed what she was saying, but now she started walking again. She held her chin high, with all proper poise, and looked straight ahead with a contemplative look on her face.

“Oh,” he walked beside her, feeling comparatively clumsy and oafish, even as his steps passed smoothly over the cobbled road.

“I… am going to go along with it,” Isabela said, quietly, “there’s no other man in the village I think I could-. You’re my best friend, if I’m not going to fall in love, I might as well marry you.”

“Oh.”

They walked in silence for a while.

“What do you think?”

“About marrying each other?”

“Sí.”

“I uh-,” he hesitated, then quietly admitted, “I’ve been in love with one girl my entire life, I can’t imagine being with anyone else, but- but- she doesn’t-.”

He couldn’t continue, it always broke his heart a little to admit that Dolores didn’t love him back, but now, here, when talking about marriage, when seriously thinking about his future, saying it out loud was unbearable. He found himself sniffling a little, his bottom lip trembling. 

Isabela put a hand on his shoulder.

He looked at her, and suddenly, he could see a path he’d never considered before. A path in which he married Isabela, moved into Casita, spent his life with his best friend, just down the hall from the woman he loved. He would have kids with Isabela, and raise them with her, and see Dolores every day for the rest of his life. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but it would be cruel to marry somebody who was in love with him, knowing he could never give them his heart. And it would be good for his family, to be so connected to the Madrigals.

And it would mean he would always be close to the love of his life.

“If I can’t be with her,” he said, slowly, “th-then I can’t imagine anyone better than my best friend.”

Isabela nodded, giving him a small smile. It wasn’t one of the ones she’d practiced, it didn’t match his own practiced grin. It was quiet, and warm, and reassured him that he could be happy with her.

Months continued to pass them by, and Mariano found himself thinking more and more of this life spent with his best friend. They would make an excellent team, him and Isabela, and they would have wonderful kids, kids Mariano would get to spend plenty of time with. In most households, the men were expected to go out and work, but not in la familia Madrigal. When you married a Madrigal, it became your job to stay home and take care of the kids so that the Madrigals could share their blessings with the village. He’d once thought he’d be raising Dolores’ children, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he would be just as happy raising Isabela’s kids. The more Mariano thought about his life to come, the more he realized how much he wanted to be a father.

He started spending more time with his youngest cousins, eager to practice for his oncoming life as the primary parent.

There were nights, of course, where Mariano had guilty fantasies in which Dolores would fall in love with him a little later in life, and Isabela would give him permission to be with her. These fantasies sometimes featured him saving Dolores from her horrible husband, or comforting her when her husband died in a very tragic and painful accident. But nobody needed to know about those nights, or those fantasies.

He focused on the thought of his future kids, and tried to ignore all else.

Mariano picked out the ring, he drafted up lists of baby names, he planned what he would say in his proposal with Isabela, and he tried not to think too hard about how close he would be to Dolores once he had moved into Casita.

And then his and Isabela’s plans all fell apart the night of the proposal.

In the scant hours between that disastrous dinner and Casita falling apart, all Mariano could think about was how embarrassing the evening had been for him, and the fact that Dolores had seen the whole thing. He wondered if the miracle had been trying to tell him and Isabela something, if it had been trying to discourage the match.

Then, when he found out that it had nothing to do with him, he felt horrible for being so self pitying while his best friend and the love of his life were dealing with such a crisis.

Mariano was the first to grab a shovel, and rallied the other villagers to do the same. He figured he would worry about his love life later, when Casita was done being built. He thought that neither Isabela nor Dolores had the energy or time to think about him. He thought he would never be a Madrigal, and he would just have to accept that.

Nobody ever accused Mariano of being an intellectual. In fact, they often accused him of the exact opposite, and after hearing Dolores’ side of the story, he couldn’t blame them.

“You’ve had this since we were ten?” he asked, for the fifth time. He was holding an old vision tablet, the magic long since faded from it. In it, he was on his knees, holding a ring out to Isabela as she sat primly at her dinner table.

“Sí, and I’ve looked at it almost every night since,” she shook her head ruefully, “trying to force myself to get over you.”

He stared at her, “Are you sure you don’t want to get married right now?”

Dolores giggled quietly, “I’m sure. I seem to remember you had all these plans for your wedding.”

“Our wedding,” he corrected, “it was always-. I thought you didn’t return my feelings, but I was never able to picture another bride. Not really.”

She smiled down at her lap. They were sitting side by side on a couch in the newly finished first floor of the new Casita. He was vaguely aware of the rest of her family milling around, of her father keeping a close on them, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from her face.

“You knew? When we were ten? That you love me?” he eventually asked.

“I’ve known since I got my gift.”

Mariano blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears as a smile took over his face. He leaned over and kissed her check, only to jump back when Señor Félix loudly cleared his throat. Mariano flashed him a sheepish smile, but didn’t want to spend too long not looking at Dolores.

“I-I was a little bit slow,” he admitted, “I didn’t figure it out until we were thirteen.”

“But that was when you started to pull away?” she asked.

“Pull-? Oh! No! No, no, no,” he grabbed her hand, “I was trying to be respectful. I… enjoyed being close to you in a way that uh, I figured I should get permission for before I uh, well, indulged. If that uh, if you get what I'm… getting at.”

“Oh,” Dolores giggled again, “I see.”

“If you’ve loved me all this time, why did you date Romero?”

“My Pá said that’s the best way to get over someone,” she shrugged.

Mariano couldn’t help it, he turned to look at Señor Félix with his hurt and betrayal clear on his face. Señor Félix looked startled, and actually took a step back. For a brief second Mariano was reminded of Camilo, as Señor Félix held his hands up in a questioning shrug and seemed to silently ask, “What did I do?”

“Amor,” Dolores gently pulled Mariano’s face back towards her, “it’s not his fault, I asked him for that advice.”

Mariano still couldn’t help but pout a little, “He could have told you to ask me how I felt before giving up on me.”

“Sí, and I could have asked him for advice on getting your attention,” she shrugged, “I thought this was just another case of people ignoring me in favor of Isabela.”

“I would never,” he breathed, “Dolores, she is my best friend, but you! You’re the sun in my sky, the song every bird sings, the passion too great for words to capture. You’re steady ground in an earthquake, a shelter in a storm, and the burst of laughter that cures a bad day. How could anyone not see your kindness? Your poise? Isabela is all the bright colors in a meadow, but you’re the red in my veins. I have warmth in my heart to share with others, because you keep it beating.”

Dolores was so often quiet, so often silent, but this was the first time Mariano had ever seen her struck dumb. Her lips parted in surprise, and her eyes shined with love.

Mariano knew he wasn’t an intellectual, but he liked to think he was raised right, so even though he wanted to hold her tight and kiss her, pour all the passion and longing he’d stored up into her, he didn’t. Instead he squeezed her hand, then brought it to his lips, so he could leave a gentle kiss on her fingertips.

Dolores gaped at him for another second, then with her free hand she took the old vision out of his lap and threw it like a frisbee across the room.

It hit the ground and shattered.

“So,” she said, “marriage?”

“Sí! I’ll bring my wedding journal tomorrow and you can tell me what ring design you like best,” he said, launching into an explanation of everything he’d planned.

Nobody ever accused Mariano of being a genius, but he’d stumbled his way to marrying the love of his life. So, he figured he was smart enough. 

[ismaet]

Housekid AU Part 2

Part 1 here

Idea: Casita raises Mirabel

Mirabel is now 6 years old, it's 2 am in the morning, there's a note on her bedside table, and the Nursery Door is glowing.

Mirabel had never fully awakened so fast in all her life.

Hastily, she grabbed her glasses and examined the glowing golden letter.

Mi velita preciosa,

Happy Birthday. You are still too young to know the reason why I didn't give you a Gift on your anointed day, but know and believe that it is no fault of yours. You are special, mi vida, Gift or no Gift. You will do great things, with or without one.

But, times are changing. You need a Gift, mi pequena vela. Not because you aren't capable enough on your own- do you remember last week, when you saved yourself from that fall? You achieved the impossible that day: give a magical house a heart attack -

Mirabel giggled through sniffles.

But because it would help you. Increase your odds. You would do just fine without one, more so when you're older, but it would make me feel better. That my magic is always with you. And, let's be honest, you deserve one too. You deserve a Gift, mi vida. And a room of your own.

I am sorry, Candelita, that your Door arrived late. It is because despite not getting a Gift on your Day, I did still give you something. Do you feel that warm buzz under your skin? Do you feel that tingle of comfort? Do you feel that lively energy? That's my magic, mija. I gave you a lot, and I had to recover before giving you a Door.

And it's time. I've recovered.

One last thing though. Don't tell anyone yet. I have much to explain to you first, Candelita. But that will have to come later. It's your special day, after all.

So go on.

Open your Door.

Receive your Gift.

You deserve it.

Happy Birthday, mi vida. I love you.

Blinking the tears out of her eyes, Mirabel hugged the letter tightly. The amount of love she had for the entity possessing her house was indescribable. When was the last time her human mother made her feel this way?

Eventually though, she got off from her bed, and marched up to the glowing Door.

This time, her gait wasn't nervous.

This time, she wasn't alone.

This time, the Door didn't disappear.

This time, it Opened.

Mirabel's Room was a more a small house than a room. It had two floors, a big atrium, and a very peculiar design- half of the rooms were walled in, while half (still segmented) were open air. There was a small kitchen, a dining room, a bathroom, a sewing and weaving room, a library, a music room, a training room, and even a small garden.

Oh and also, there were a lot of golden butterflies.

Who turned out to be Mirabel's little helpers; flitting about, keeping the place clean, fetching whatever thing she wanted at the moment or assisting the little girl on whatever project she was working on. Mirabel quickly adopted the swarm, and spent the better half of her birthday exploring her Room (her room! her very own room!).

Then she remembered her mother also gave her a Gift, and there was very little the butterflies could do to keep from laughing at her panicked/excited realization.

Mirabel's Gift is basically Rune Magic but through thread. She can give a piece of clothing whatever effect she wants just by sewing the idea/concept onto the thing. The more complicated the effect, the more elaborate the stitching's gotta be. The effect turns on when needed or when worn. It's also self-sufficient, leaching off of the magic in the air, but it can be overwhelmed or weakened enough to the point of being dispelled. To prevent this, the wearer has to take good care of the cloth and thread; if Mirabel cared for them enough to sew the very concept of protection onto their clothing, then they should care for her enough by treasuring her work. If they didn't, then the effect is temporary and will eventually fade away.

(Mirabel learns this through trial and error, her magic giving her just enough nudges to realization via feelings. It was a fun learning experience- one Casita was very happy and proud to witness.)

Mirabel's absence from the Nursery was never noticed. Her constant scrapes and bandages and band-aids (because Casita wanted her daughter's body to learn how to heal the normal way) and bruises and wounds were never noticed. Her discarding her blue skirt for a white one that was beginning to be filled to the brim with colorful threads humming with magic was never noticed. Her not being in any photo post-ceremony was never noticed. Her not being at breakfast every morning was never noticed.

(incredulitybetrayalresignationanger)

Well, fine. Casita could care less- she had other things to worry about. Mainly that her daughter was growing up and she shouldn't be confined in her walls for much longer. She had to have some outside experience. She can't bloom without the sun.

But... Casita is worried.

Her daughter was capable, yes, but she only trained her for a year! Even with her Gift! And she was 6! Isn't that young, still? And Casita; she heard all the talk, the whispers. About the Family 'Failure'. The 'Giftless Madrigal'. Her daughter was responsible, scrappy, bright- but she was still a child. And while Casita's whole form was technically the whole of Encanto, with the rest of her Magic occupied with the Gifts, the Doors, the glamour and precautions of the place; she could only manipulate the House.

She couldn't be there for her preciosa hija.

And Casita didn't like that.

Not knowing what to do, she confided in her darling Candelita. Told her how she wanted her to expand her horizons, how her walls shouldn't become her cell, how she should bloom, shine, outside of her Family's shadow. Told her how she was worried, that she would get in trouble and she couldn't reach. Told her, because maybe with two brains they can figure it out.

And Little Mirabel didn't disappoint.

"Mami, your Spirit is the Candle, no?" She had hummed, while practicing her stitches, "Could you reach out more if you had another? Like a... Candelabra- no, that's too big -oh! Like a Lantern! I could bring it around and you could come with me!" Her smile was impossibly bright.

"Would that work, Mami?"

Well now, Casita clinked around a few tiles in excitement and pride (at her pequeña vela brillante, obviously), things just got a lot more interesting.

It worked. Casita separated off a part of herself and attached it to her daughter's spirit to keep it alive, and behold, a tiny Miracle held by her Little Miracle (amusementamazementawepride).

It was easy enough getting one of the few hand-held Lanterns from the kitchen, and it was doubly so climbing up the roof and lighting it with the Main Candle before booking it to her Room.

The Lantern did not double Casita's strength, nor did it weaken the majority of her in the House. It was simply a window she could reach out from, and with Mirabel tugging it around, she essentially now had infinite but also limited reach.

Perfect.

They trained with the Lantern during the night, slipping into the part of the forest behind the House. With Dolores safe in her soundproofed room, the two could do whatever experiments they wished to their hearts' content.

Casita practiced manipulating the objects within the Lantern's radius as if they were part of the house. She tried it with Mirabel standing still, holding the Lantern aloft. She tried it with Mirabel lightly walking. She tried it with Mirabel running her fastest, Lantern now attached to her makeshift hip-belt. She had to make sure she mastered this moving influence of hers. She couldn't let her daughter be hurt.

(Though, she did let herself have a bit of mischief. She played with her daughter whenever frustration reached a boiling point, she relished in being able to interact with things other than those in the House, she loved being able to see all these new sights with her little Miracle. Her Spirit was strong, their bond was tight, and they were happy.)

Mirabel, meanwhile, practised moving and thinking in sync with her mother. Predict which object she'll ready to catch her with and jump. Predict which object she'll extend and grab. The trusting part was easy. She loved her mother. The execution? Yeah, she might've worn more band-aids than usual for the following few weeks (Though it's not like anybody would notice).

But it was fun.

And that's all that mattered.

The first real test of Mirabel going out on her 'own' was when both realized that if they wanted to get the most of her Gift, she had to have proper sewing, embroidery and maybe even weaving lessons. One could only make so much butterflies, after all.

So Mirabel put on her- very messy but colorful with all the threads of protection and glamour magic that Casita gently demanded her to put -white, self-sewn (from random scraps) ruana, put the Lantern in her also very messy self-knitted bag, and ventured out into the town a few minutes after her The Familia.

She took to the rooves, flitting about like a butterfly, hiding from the people and her family members as her mother led her to one of the few seamstresses in town that did not gossip about the 'Giftless Madrigal' during communal weaving.

Senora Guzman.

(Mirabel didn't mean to greet the Senora by hanging upside down from her roof to her window, but hey, turns out Kuya Mariano has good aim! Maybe he can teach her knife-throwing too!)

Perspective shift

Mariano did not think that a strange 6-year-old child who he almost brained with a knife would quickly become one of his bestest friends, but a strange 6-year-old child who he almost brained with a knife did quickly become one of his bestest friends.

Mira was a joy to be around.

Everyday, ever since his mama accepted Mira as her apprentice in everything involving the thread and needle, La Casa Guzman has been... alive. When before it was all comforting lulls with sprinkles of excitement, now it was the exact opposite.

Every morning, Mira's knocking on his second story window would rouse both he and his mother from bed. Then she and his mama would prepare breakfast, while he readied all the materials for the day's lesson. After that, they'd gather in the kitchen- where they'd talk about their days separated from each other (which was almost never now) or recall funny moments from the previous day; sometimes, they'll even have reviews on what types of stitching Mira had learned. Then they'd clean up the kitchen, make sure their schedules are clear, and march straight to the sewing room.

There (almost always), they manage to have one complete, straight lesson- before the sense of structure and schedule falls apart like dry grass in a forest fire.

Usually, it was because of Mira.

Mira initiating a tickle fight during break, Mira initiating a contest during a simple part of the lesson, Mira showing off, Mira messing up and picking on herself good-naturedly, Mira demonstrating new skills that always gave them heart attacks, Mira, Mira, Mira.

And Mariano would swear to his Papa's soul that his Mama had the brightest smile during these moments (mirroring his own).

It was like, Mira was a tiny little, hyperactive candle; unassuming, weirdly both belonging and out of place, but somehow the brightest of the bunch. And they were the room that had the privilege of being lit up by this wonderful, mysterious 6-year-old girl that he almost brained with a knife.

Huh...

Act- A C T- Act

Actually, where did Mira come from? What family does she belong to? She has to have amazing parents, considering how incredible she is. He doesn't recognize her face, though. But he should. He's Mariano Guzman! His mother was Council Member! But, no matter how hard he tried, he can't place Mira's face. Though, even if he wasn't a Guzman, Encanto was a close town. It should be easy right? Mira's most prominent features were her adorable, brown eyes, and her lovely big nose! In fact, now that he thought about it, she looks just like a Madrigal!

Just like

a Ma

Wait, does that m e an

s he

's

M

ira

b e l

Mad

r

i

ga

Mariano blinked.

No, Mira had (bluegreenbrownhazelambersapphireemeraldblack) eyes and an adorable (bigsmallmedium) nose and a head of (shortlongmedium) (curlystraightmessy) hair andandandandandandandand an d a n d a n d a

a n

d

a

nd

a

Mariano shook his head. What's he doing here, just standing? Mira and Mama are waiting for him. He can't let them down.

Part 3 here! Part 4 here!

[gamerbearmira]

I have a story for the Vampire au! Okay, so vampires live in the Encanto and are hiding among the regular people, Senora Guzman is one of them. A little after Antonio is born Alma is worrying about whether or not he'll get a gift, but Pepa had a difficult labor and so she doesn't really care about his gift, she's just glad he's here and healthy. Pepa gets upset at Alma for caring more about the gift than Antonio's well being, and Mirabel gets brought up, so Julieta comes in to defend her daughter, Bruno also gets brought up. It devolves into a screaming match about how Alma treats everyone and their gifts until Julieta yells, "well maybe the reason Mirabel didn't get a gift is because of YOU!" Casita then starts to crumble, just like it did in canon only five years earlier. Pepa shoves Antonio into Alma's arms and tells her to get out of the house, Alma and the grandkids manage to get out, but the other adults, including Bruno who was still in the walls, don't escape time and die in the collapse. All of this is too much for Alma and she passes out due to a heart attack, she almost died, but Senora Guzman saw what happened and realized if Alma dies the children won't have a guardian, so she turns Alma in order to save her. Once Alma wakes up and gets her bearings, she realizes Julieta was right, and her mistakes cost her even more family members. She vows to change her ways and keep her grandchildren safe, she turns the grandkids into vampires so she won't have to watch them grow old and die, the Madrigal family becomes really close to the Guzman family since they're both secretly vampires, that's how Mariano and Dolores met, Casita is rebuilt with a more gothic architecture and a graveyard for the deceased family members, which includes a memorial for Pedro, the magic does return, and Mirabel gets her own room, but the color of the magic is red instead of gold. The townspeople are a little spooked by how everything changed, but they chalk it up to the sudden death of the adults affecting the family and the magic so they don't really question it, and the slowed aging is waved off by Alma, who says it must be the magic's way of protecting the grandkids.

I’M RICKIN WIT IT⁉️⁉️

Honestly I am. Only thing that I would change is Alma. She was born a vampire (a LONG) time ago. She was just good at hiding it. EVERYTHING ELSE IS SO RAD THO 🗣️🗣️ honestly Alma saying the magic is what’s keeping the kids from aging is so real.

I imagine Guzman probably has to help Alma cope though. I mean it was clear Alma didn't wanna do it, and even with convincing. She was still pretty catatonic after the fact. But Alma slow gets over it (over it is a strong assumption though). After all, she's not the only one who had to resort to that. Mariano and a number of other kids at the time had to be turned, and a lot of families didn't want to subject their kid to that life, but had to for their safety.

And the argument before hand. Would make sense. How it escalated so fast is baffling, but stuff adds up over the years ig 😭 still sad asf tho. W for the memorial at least (┳Д┳)

Alma whenever anyone asks her about what happened those two nights:

[achitka]

Day Twelve: Nerves

Oh my goodness...sometimes you just gotta think outside the honey pot.

Day Twelve: Nerves

Julieta handed off a cookie to the small child in front of her. They took a bite, and the scrapes and cuts they’d acquired while playing healed without a trace of them ever being there. The little one looked up at her, smiled and shouted, “Mamá! No more ouchie!”

“That’s right mi vida, no need to shout. Now please thank the Señora.”

“Thank you!” he said just as loudly.

His mother sighed as she took his hand. “Come along, Mariano. Time enough to take a bath before I make supper for your Papí.”

Mariano waved to her, and Julieta waved back. She turned and took a step back. “Aye, Agustín, you trying to give me a heart attack?” He only shook his head, since his face was very swollen at the moment, and he couldn’t actually talk. “Can you open your mouth at all?”

He shrugged, and Julieta felt just a tad nervous. Her husband’s encounters with the bees were getting worse with each incident, and she couldn't heal him if he wasn’t able to eat. “Come on then,” she said as packed the last of her things. “Let’s get you home.”

Since her husband insisted on carrying most of what she had, Julieta pushed aside her worry and thought about how to get him what he needed. She had him sit on the patio and Julieta came upon an idea and after dropping off some things. She made some tea, then opened a cabinet and pulled out some honey and a spoon. She poured him a cup and added a dollop of honey and lemon to it. She forgot to bring a plate, so put the spoon in her mouth to hold it. He watched her every move and seemed to be smiling. It was hard to tell, though. She raised the cup, and he tried to drink some of it, but that was just not working. Julieta took the spoon out of her mouth and set it on the table. She licked her lip and decided on plan B.

Plan B was a total win as she pulled back and said, “Are you okay now?”

Agustín cleared his throat and said, “No, I’ve never been worse. Maybe you should try again?”

So she did.

[my-gunpowder]