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gamerbearmira · 1 year

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ART MUHAHAHAHAHA

ARTTT FINALLY...I KNOW YALL BEEN WAITIN...

Mama Isa, just the duo practicing their arts <33 we love a girl who can come up with lyrics on the fly and boy who can play along

My main man❗❗ He's the dead serpent, cause he gangsta like that 🦅🦅 He's actually bigger than Pedro, so that's rad ╰(‵□′)╯

Werewolf AU🔛🔝 Don't worry, new chapter is gonna be up soon, me and anon finished writing it and a I'll be posting it <33 But yeah!! Kinda spoiler, but also not because its on this blog, but Mirabel runs away as Casita falls ಥ_ಥ

DANELL THAT YOU??! jk jk but like. In the Housebroken I'm writing, Mirabel's wings come in after Antonio is born, but before the triplets get to them. And they were too scared to go into to town for help and too scared to get Julieta. Isabela and Dolores planned to get Julieta's food when they took Antonio, but for obvious reasons, had no time. Julieta gets to them soon after tho!!

BUT. In the time she wasn't there. They just had to wait for Mirabel to heal. Her scars kept reopening, and she kept getting sick too, her wounds got infected and she was not feeling good <\\33 literally bed ridden for like two months, poor girl 😭 She got so sick that the older 3 almost went to Julieta, but luckily Mirabel barely recovered. Julieta felt really bad after, and vowed to never let her mama get in the way of her daughters again ٩(•̀▽ •́)ง……

Redraws👹👹 Nothing special. Nothing good tbh. Just redraws. Shout out to you if you can name the aus (≧∇≦)/

Alright that's it guys, BYEEE <33 more content, really just some art asks <33 I would write more and do more art for Housebroken but like. EVERYTHING IS A FRIGGIN SPOILER. LIKE DAWGGGGG

I SEE YOU DRIVIN ROUND TOWN WITH THE GIRL I LOVEEE

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yellowcry · 1 month

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This ride goes where?

At first, Luisa thought that she hallucinated. But, under Mirabel's skin was a weak, barely audible pulse. But, just upon getting out, she stumbled into Abuelo.

For @miracles-and-butterflies Based on "Pedro ruins lives au"

TW: Suicide, Abuse.

No, no, oh Dios Mio!

Luisa's lungs could've just blown out from terror. Her heart could beat fast enough for both her and Mirabel

Her younger sister lay on the floor, not moving for a single centimeter. Quiet and still. Luisa's guts twitched upon the sight. The blood dripped down her neck, painting a soft carpet under her body. Luisa felt like throwing up. The room was breathless, quieter than void. Luisa's sight jumped upon the note on the table next to the door. She didn't read it through, her mind went wild just from the idea. A heavy realization that didn't even need a note from the bedside table to be understood.

Luisa's body moved without her will, kneeling next to a tiny girl. A crippling fear twisted her guts, pushing her mind deeper and deeper into the storming water, drowning her under the waves of horrifying sorrow.

"Tic"

At first, Luisa thought that she hallucinated. But, under Mirabel's skin was a weak, barely audible pulse. A last thread to her life that hadn't ripped off. A shaking breath escaped Luisa's lips. Mirabel was alive. Her sister hadn't died. There was a chance to save her. Luisa would make it up, she would do everything. She wouldn't let Mirabel out of her sight, she would heal every wound on her heart, make sure that her sister knew how important she was.

What was she supposed to do? 'Run to the hospital' — her mind realized, pushing her up of bare adrenaline, she was strong and pretty tall. She could make it in time. Luisa picked Mirabel up carefully, not daring to touch the cut.

Just upon getting out, she stumbled into Abuelo.

Her grandfather rubbed his buttoned shirt, annoyed by such a sudden meeting. "Luisa, what are you—" His voice was cut off as he looked up, seeing who was in Luisa's arms. For a brief moment, there was an utter terror in his wrinkly face as his eyes slid upon the blood on Mirabel's neck. "What happened?" He breathed out in terror, his teeth bared, and protruded brown eyes shifted to Luisa's face.

"She... She..." Her voice stumbled, the words died in her throat. Luisa hugged Mirabel closer. She didn't want this, if only she spent more time with her baby sister, maybe nothing of this would've happened. She let Mirabel out and now she was at the brink of death.

She winced as Abuelo grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the staircase in a tight grip. It would be easy for her to break out, but the terror made her knees buckle. Mirabel was bleeding out in her arms, and Abuelo was shaking with anger. Usually, it meant...

Oh... God... no, no...

"Abuelo, please!" Luisa yelled, tearing her vocal cord, begging for him to listen. She stumbled, being thrown into his room. "She's alive! She's still..." A slap on her face made her wince, breathing stopped for a bit.

Abuelo was mad. And Luisa knew it. He was often mad with her, way more often than when he wasn't. But this time it was even worse. Maybe even worse than when Tía and Tío had run away with their sons. His heavy breathing rang across the room. The loud sound of his boots alone was enough to scare Luisa. She knew the pain that would follow. A bursting agony while he hit her again and again.

"She's alive! A- Abuelo, Mirabel hasn't died yet!" She wanted him to listen, he had to let her out, allow her to make things right. He didn't react, too consumed by his own despair over losing yet another family member.

In a rough movement, Abuelo grabbed Mirabel out of her arms, dropping her on the ground. A motionless body tumbled, grasping the dust onto the embroidered clothes. "Take her name out of her mouth!" Abuelo hissed, tightening the rope around her wrists. Luisa felt her breathing getting heavy. She gasped frantically, in a desperate attempt to get enough air to speak.

"She's alive!" Why couldn't he listen to her? Luisa wanted to help, she wanted to save her sister and make things right.

Abuelo didn't flinch, too angry to pay attention to her words. He raised Luisa's sleeve, movement so bad that one of the threads fell off. "It's your fault!" He shouted, gripping her arm painfully, his nails dug into Luisa's bruised skin. "What is wrong with you?! How could you do this to her?"

"I haven't done anything!" That was exactly where she was guilty. If only she was a better sister nothing if this would've happened.

A book, a huge encyclopedia slammed against her skin. Luisa gasped in pain. It wasn't something unusual, but it didn't make it less painful. The blood rushed to the wound, forming a red spot on the fading bruises. Her chest rose, as she struggled in a desperate attempt to break free from the rope. "She needs to get to hospital!" Luisa's voice hitched, pain from another blow spread through her arms. "Please, get her to the hospital! Do whatever you want with me later"

Luisa didn't care how strongly Abuelo would punish her. He was right in one thing, it was her fault and she deserved it. But right now it was about Mirabel's life. Luisa would be glad to beat herself to half-death later if it meant saving her hermanita.

Abuelo did not seem to listen, leading to another hit. "Stop speaking! You're the reason she's dead!" Luisa couldn't argue with this. But she needed to help Mirabel. "Why would she do something like this if it wasn't for you?"

Luisa breathed out in horror. "I don't know?" Another yelp escaped her lips from a hit. Her locals tensed, fighting against this agony that crawled across her limbs. Tears welled up in her eyes. She wasn't sure if it was from pain or from Mirabel's situation.

Pedro's nostrils widened. "She was so ashamed of having such a failure as her sister that she preferred to be dead!" Luisa didn't argue on that. Whatever the reason, she knew that she was guilty. Pedro blinked to hold back the tears that threatened to get out.

"Get her to the hospital, please!" Was her only concern. She didn't want to lose any more time.

"Don't talk to me! If it wasn't for you, Mirabel would still be alive!" Luisa's muscles tensed in terror of his words. Her neck cracked, staying still.

"I'm sorry!" She felt like she was suffocating. The book pushed her deeper and deeper with every second. She didn't mean to hurt Mirabel, she wanted for everyone to be safe more than anything.

"If it was up to me, I would put you in a metal bull. Your favorite Greeks have one, right?"

Her exhaling stopped for a brief second. A metallic bull. One of the horrifying ways of execution in Ancient Greece. Luisa pulled her legs closer trembling in horror. She always knew that Abuelo didn't like her, but now he confirmed that he would gladly put her to the most painful death possible. Even Pedro himself looked shocked for a moment. A brief realization that it was a bit too far among the rage he felt. But it didn't stop him.

Her heart felt like it was squeezed, crushed inside her ribs. Her voice cracked, pressed down by screaming.

The blows climbed from her arms up to her shoulders. Sometimes they lay upon other bruises, sometimes her clear skin was affected too. Abuelo's anger boiled inside of him, making it impossible to speak through his walls. Luisa had no problem with the fact that Pedro blamed her. She blamed herself too, for not being a good sister. She didn't protect Mirabel. But she wanted to fix it. Lord, just give her another chance. She would do anything for Mirabel, make it so her hermanita wouldn't be so ashamed of her.

And she kept begging, trying to get another chance. Luisa couldn't stand the idea of losing Mirabel.

It took so long, before Abuelo calmed down a little, allowing Luisa to get out. She gasped, rubbing off the blood from her shoulders. It was painful as hell. Nothing new if Luisa was honest. It wasn't important right now. She needed to get Mirabel to the hospital.

Luisa carefully picked up her baby sister, gently squeezing her pale from blood loss wrist. She will be fine... Luisa will fix it.

There was no pulse this time.

#encanto #encanto au #ao3 author #fanfic #luisa madrigal #mirabel madrigal #pedro madrigal

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sixpossumsinatrenchcoat · 1 month

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Natural Satellite [ch 9]

An In Stars and Time AU. In ch 9, Siffrin & Isabeau cover their tracks. Start from the beginning here.

Isabeau heaves a sigh. “I’m sorry, Sif, I swear I’m not trying to tell you what to do here, it’s just… You’ve already had to hurt so much. Doesn’t it make sense to share it around a little?” “No.” “But you—” “No!!” He doesn’t understand. You’re here because this is where the Universe wants you. But Isa… There’s no reason for him to be here. He should never have got wrapped up in this in the first place. “I won’t— I just. Don’t want you to do that.” “Aw, Sif,” he says unhappily. Insult to injury. He died for you and now he’s sorry for you. “I’m sorry, okay? I honestly really get it. But I can’t just stand there and let you hurt yourself.” “I can’t stand there and let you kill yourself!!” “Yeah, totally. I mean, same.”

Wow. Ow. That was way worse than Sif made it sound, and it already sounded pretty crabbing bad. How long have they been doing this, to feel like it doesn’t matter? Or is that how they felt from the start?

Isabeau rubs the side of his throat and decides not to think about it.

* * *

You jerk awake with blood and bile bitter on your tongue. Isa, Isa, he— Why would he do that? You were about to say it!! It was right on the tip of your tongue and you were, you were going to say it and instead Isabeau—died. He died. He was alive and alive and then dead. Steadfast then bleeding and dead. It wasn’t nothing to him. He wasn’t unafraid. You could see the terror in his eyes right before he made the cut.

He probably thought that it would happen instantly. The looping back. Instead you watched him gasp and squirm for whole minutes before the Universe wiped it away.

You swipe a wrist roughly across your eyes. Why would he do that? You’d almost said it! You could almost— And then Isa was in front of you and on the ground and bleeding and it was, real. It was real. He was real and he really died.

Because of you.

It’s your fault. But of course it’s your fault; when is it ever not? Isabeau died so you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t let him save you so he died.

“Hey, Sif.”

You jerk around to find Isa standing over you, hiding behind a wincing little grin.

“Haha, wow,” he says wryly, rubbing the back of his neck. “That was way worse than you said!”

Before you know what’s happening, you’ve already flung yourself at him. Literally. Your feet leave the ground from at least a meter off. You collide with his chest like something launched from a trebuchet, tackling him clear off his feet.

“W-Woah!” he yelps, belly-up against the grass. Even with you crouched over him like a wolf guarding its kill, you can still feel him trying not to touch you. “Sif?? Are you okay??”

Ugh. You hate him. You want to blinding kill him. You want to squeeze him into a diamond and wear him over your heart, where nothing will hurt him again. You want to keep him in a fishbowl and feed him the finest, most vitamin-rich flakes. You want to tuck him behind your ear where nobody will ever ever find him.

In the background, you’re vaguely aware of Mirabelle coming down the path. When she spots you, she lets out a little squeak and bolts. It doesn’t matter. You can fix it later.

“S-Sif????” Isabeau squeaks. Still trying not to look at you.

“Don’t do that,” you growl, glaring down at him. Loop already told you it was bad, ending a loop like that. People aren’t supposed to carve themselves open just to save a little time. That’s what monsters do.

“I didn’t want to!! I just— You were hurting yourself!!!”

“So you hurt yourself worse?”

“Yeah!! Yeah!! Yes, actually!!”

You lean down to examine his throat, running your fingers up and down over a wound that isn’t there. There’s no scar, not even the faintest hairline seam. (But of course there isn’t. You knew that already. That’s not how it’s ever worked. Why are you being so weird about this?)

Isabeau even has freckles on his neck, where you’d think the sun would never reach. Half in a daze, you find yourself tracing a line from one to the next. Throat to chin, chin to jaw, jaw to the soft skin just behind his ear. It's not until you feel a tremor shudder through him that you realize what you're doing.

Oh. “Sorry.”

You sit back on your haunches, pulling your hands away from his neck, and then realize that you’re still sitting on him.

“Sorry,” you say again, twisting off of him and reaching down to pull him to his feet.

“D-Don’t worry about it???”

Before he can get too comfortable, you yank him down by the collar and slam your forehead against his. It’s more of a headbutt than a friendly bump.

“Don’t do that again,” you growl, digging your fingers into the back of his neck. “There’s no point if I can’t protect you.”

Not even an eyelash away, Isa’s eyes startle wide. Somehow you can feel him holding his breath.

(You could kiss him. You think he might let you this time, what with the adrenaline, and all the dying. You flick a glance at his mouth and listen to his breath hitch.)

…You let him go.

Isabeau lets out a breath like someone stepping on an accordion. More wheeze than air.

You tilt your head, innocent. “Isa?”

“Fine!!!” he shouts. "T-Totally super fine!! I just—um—w-will you just, um, give me a second?”

You shrug agreeably. You’ve got nothing but time.

Isa turns away and covers his face with his hands. He takes a deep breath, in and out, and then shakes himself off. “Um. I’m… sorry?”

“Okay.” He should be. He died in front of you. Weeping, gasping, choking on his own blood. You had a plan. He promised to cooperate.

“A-And it’s—I mean, it’s not like I don’t get it, it’s just that it’s… literally the same thing you’ve been doing this whole time, so I don’t see why…”

You narrow your eyes. “Do you want me to start doing it again?”

“No!!” he gasps. “Change, no, obviously not! It was just… You were hurting yourself!!!”

You’re aware of that, yes.

Isabeau heaves a sigh. “Ugh. I’m sorry, Sif, I swear I’m not trying to tell you what to do here, it’s just… You’ve already had to hurt so much. Doesn’t it make sense to share it around a little?”

“No.”

“But you—”

“No!!” He doesn’t understand. You’re here because this is where the Universe wants you. But Isa… There’s no reason for him to be here. He should never have got wrapped up in this in the first place. “I won’t— I just. Don’t… want you to do that.”

“Aw, Sif,” he says unhappily. Insult to injury. He died for you and now he’s sorry for you. “I’m sorry, okay? I honestly really get it. But I’m not just… I can’t just stand there and let you hurt yourself.”

“I can’t stand there and let you kill yourself!!”

“Yeah, totally. I mean, same.”

But that’s a false equivalence. Dying isn’t dying, for you. You’re not even sure that you can die anymore. But Isa…

You shake yourself off. “I need to talk to Loop.”

“O-Oh? Can I come, or—”

“No.”

“Aw, what!! Really??”

“Really.”

“Okayyyy,” Isabeau sighs. “I, um. I trust you.”

Does he, though? After everything he’s seen? Well. That’s his mistake. Pretty soon he’ll know better.

“See you later,” you mutter, and disappear into the trees.

* * *

Read the rest of ch 9 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53412649/chapters/137739427 Or start from ch 1 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53412649/chapters/135189547

#isat spoilers #isat fanfic #isafrin #isat isabeau #isat siffrin #isat mirabelle #act 4 spoilers

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between-the-lines-fic · 2 years

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Between the Lines - Bruno Madrigal (Modern AU) Chapter 13

Summary: Bruno Madrigal is a popular telenovela writer, though he keeps his identity secret under the pen name Pedro Oscar. You just happen to be a big fan of his who’s doing their laundry while a telenovela plays in the background.

Pairing: gn!Reader x Bruno Madrigal

Words: 1,645

Warnings: None!

Chapter count: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 (More to come!)

Available on: AO3

Mirabel and her abuela take the lead as you descend the stairs from the roof, leaving you plenty of time to silently wrangle your mixed emotions. They writhe and buzz beneath your skin, forming a nameless tangle of thorns in your chest while Bruno walks ahead of you, falling in step with his mother.

He looks so happy like this, chatting away at Mirabel and Señora Madrigal. Though his dips into the conversation are shy, he’s gaining back confidence with each shared joke and comfortable quip. Their words bounce uselessly around in your ears, unheard as your feet carry you just three strides behind.

It’s good that he’s happy. That his mother wants him back. It’s a good thing that you didn’t have to fight tooth and nail against this woman, that Mirabel and her family seem to have begun their healing. It isn’t any of your business, especially since Bruno seems willing to let bygones be bygones.

So why is there this nameless snake in your chest, constricting your heart and pumping venom into your throat?

“Mirabel!” the woman you remember as Julieta cries as Mirabel comes to the bottom of the stairs, rushing forward to envelop her daughter in a tight hug. “Oh Mira, we were so worried when we couldn’t find you. Are you alright?”

“Mom, I’m fine,” Mirabel laughs off the question on instinct, though she winces a second after and amends, “Well, I probably need to clean my hands.” Julieta lets out a long-suffering sigh, pulling away to cradle her daughter’s hands in her own, and you look away politely as she begins to fret over Mirabel’s health. A taller, seemingly distinguished man hurries over only seconds later, his glasses, but more importantly, his clumsy fumbling is a familiar pattern to your eyes. It’s an easy leap to assume this man is her papa, or at least someone like that.

“Ay Mirabel, we looked everywhere. There were so many mice and spiders,” he shudders violently, whole body cartoonishly rippling as if the man were a cat rather than a human with a spine. The reaction gets a sympathetic laugh out of Mirabel and an exasperated sigh from her mother.

“So how are we going to perform without a stage?” Someone’s voice cuts through the happy reunion, only to be shushed with exasperation by an older man. The young teen in a bright yellow sweatshirt seems to bristle at the response. “What, I can’t say that we don’t have a stage? What’s that? Not a stage!”

You only give the kid a haphazard glance before Mirabel just shakes her head and walks over to the shattered chandelier and stage. Though the majority of the chandelier is lost to shards of crystal, the lone candelabra that makes up the very tip of the chandelier has somehow managed to survive the fall. Mirabel pries candelabra free with a wince as the people around her gasp, before presenting it to her family with a surefire smile.

“We do what we’ve always done. We bring the show to the people.” She says it with such utter confidence, you almost find yourself believing her despite the clear evidence to the contrary. “The Madrigals used to be a traveling troupe. We’ll just perform somewhere else until we can get the theater up and running again. Right Abuela?” And then that confidence wavers, Mirabel looking back into the stairwell where the three of you remain just barely out of sight, her smile trembling at the edges as she holds this beloved family heirloom in bloodied hands. She’s so small, her fingers gripping this sculpture of brass and gold that’s almost as large as her head.

Bruno and his mother freeze in the shadows, each showing a different kind of hesitation while they watch Mirabel reunite with her family. Their family, you mentally correct yourself, eyeing both of these people who stare at their loved ones with such trepidation that it’s almost painful. Señora Madrigal clutches her hands close to her chest, a deep frown lining her lips, and she looks so much like a younger version of your Abuela that the pain in your chest swells and threatens to spill into your silence with a lump that you swallow down. Another memory strikes you like a punch to the sternum, raw and unyielding.

You’d been so furious with yourself when you broke Abuelo’s radio. You really hadn’t meant to break it, but your favorite band was going to be playing on the radio that day and you had been trying to tape a copy of their song for weeks. It was an antique, weathered thing with delicate dials and a finicky antenna, but Abuelo always seemed to know how to turn it just so, eternally patient and loving with the radio he had bought Abuela for their fifth anniversary. He was at the shop today though, and Abuela was too busy cooking dinner to sit by the radio and help you. The awaited hour crept closer and closer, and when you couldn’t get the dial to turn to the right station, you twisted and snapped it off in a panic.

The radio was too old to have any replacement parts lying around in local repair shops, and the places that could claim to fix it were far too expensive for Abuelo’s budget. It was just your luck that Abuelo chose to come up to check on the house.

His warm voice cut through the air like a knife, “Estoy en casa-” he said, only to stare you down with a horrified frown while you held the snapped-off dial in your hand. You still remember the way dread pooled in your stomach, hot tears clouding your vision as you ran to your room and shrunk under your covers. Abuelo didn’t even call after you. All you heard was the soft click of a shutting door, and footsteps down the stairs to the shop below. A spiral of guilt, embarrassment and regret dragged you further down into your hiding spot, the snapped knob of the radio dial clenched painfully tight in your hand.

Abuela found you not long after, a gentle knock on your door. “It is never easy to apologize nenúfarité,” she had said, pulling you out from your self-imposed punishment into a firm hug that was just as warm as your bed, “because you see the hurt in the other person’s face, and know that you are the one who caused it. It can be difficult to face that, but we must if we want the hurt to get better. You must see the wound before you can bandage it, hm?”

Grief, anger, and an alien sense of compassion wrestle with one another for control, leaving you frozen to the step as Abuela- no, Señora Madrigal steps into the light, expression wobbling with unshed tears. Bruno almost reaches for her as she moves forward, and that makes the anger flare violently, a reminder of his loneliness that you’ve seen over the year that you’ve known him-

“Of course, Mirabel,” she replies, a watery smile finally pulling at her lips as she walks over to her granddaughter, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Mi familia, I am sorry. I see, now, that I held on too tight. I was so afraid that I would lose you, that I hurt you all.” she says, hands clasped together in front of her chest.

“Mama,” Julieta murmurs, her expression creased with concern. But Señora Madrigal holds up a hand to halt her, and she takes Julieta’s hands into her own. She reaches for another woman, the stressed one in a yellow dress that had snuck by you before. Pepa, you think.

“No, mis hijitas. I was wrong. I can deny it no longer. There has been too much pressure on you from me to ensure our Encanto stays afloat. I worried for so long about our safety through the business that I forgot what it was all for.” She turns again to her granddaughter, her smile faint with guilt. “So you all could live happy and long lives, even without my Pedro. I lost Brunito to this. I almost lost Mirabel to this. I will lose no more of you.”

Bruno covers his mouth to stifle a gasp into a cough, and the rest of the gathered family squint into the dark stairwell. “Tío Bruno?” Mirabel halfway pleads in your direction, and you watch as the love of your life visibly struggles with whether or not to reveal himself to the people he stayed away from for an entire decade. “I know you’re there. Please, Tío.”

“Mi vida,” you murmur soft enough for him alone to hear, “go to them.” But your feet stay firmly planted in the carpet, the swirl of emotions weighing you too much to even consider going with him. It’s as if a physical line separates you between the safety of this shadowed staircase and the light of the hallway beyond. This isn’t your reunion. And you can barely even bear to be in the same room as that woman right now, let alone a whole extended family.

Bruno glances back at you, eyes wide with worry as he glances between his family and you. Then, as if sensing your hesitation, he holds out a hand to you, still silent. For a moment you consider not taking it, pulling away from this place altogether and somewhere safe, but then you look back up at his face, and your resistance crumples.

There are tears in his eyes, and you know with a sudden surety that he wants this more than anything. Most importantly, he wants you to be a part of it. And how could you ever say no to that?

Pulled by his hand, both of you step beyond the line and into the light of the corridor.

#bruno madrigal #bruno madrigal x oc #bruno madrigal x reader #encanto au #encanto bruno #encanto Bruno X reader #between the lines fic #surprise #I'm not dead

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miss-pan-ac · 2 years

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In the mama Mirabel Au, does Antonio ever have a hard time doing something and instead of going to Pepa or her husband (forgot his name, sorry) he goes to Mirabel, and one time it happens in front of Pepa, and it kinda breaks her heart? Not saying she's a bad mom ofc just that she probably has alotta work, and maybe Antonio is more comfy with asking Mirabel instead.

Yes actually! This is more likely to happen when Mirabel is 14-15 years old & Antonio is 4-5 years old. Hell, we even see this in the movie (kinda). When Mirabel knows where to find Antonio & comforts him, unlike Pepa who is fretting & freaking out not knowing where to look. Then of course we have the iconic "I need you" scene too.

But it happening in front of Pepa, Felix, & the rest of the fam (whether individually or multiple at a time), well, it happens multiple times. However, the first time it happens, it's not Pepa's heart he breaks a little, it's Felix, his papá.

The first time it happens is when Antonio needs help with his hair. It's tangled and getting in his face and he doesn't know what to do with it. So he goes to the one person he knows can help him, Mirabel. He asks Casita for help and they lead the way for him. He finds her talking to his papá while he gives her a basket of clothes. Laundry day, it was Mirabel's turn. It's always Mirabel's turn.

He walks up to her pouting. "Mirabel," he whines. "Can you do my hair? It's bothering me."

Mirabel laughs under her breath, Antonio's pouting face with crazy bed hair a comical and adorable sight. "Sure Toni, I'll do it once I go drop this off with the rest of the clothes. How does a bun sound, hm?"

Antonio grins and nods his head enthusiastically in agreement, Mirabel laughing at his reaction. Meanwhile, Felix looks on at the interaction confused and a little hurt. Why would his son go to his cousin for help with his hair and not him? He's his papá! They have the same hair for the miracle's sake! Felix clears his throat, grabbing both the youngsters' attention.

He smiles strained at them both and looks at Antonio asking, "Antonio, mijo, why don't you ask me for help? I'm sure we can do something amazing with your hair!"

Antonio, however, looks at him confused. "Because Mirabel does my hair? She always has."

Mirabel is grimacing internally having picked up on her Tio's hurt immediately and knowing that this was gonna go downhill. Felix's own hurt and confusion only increased. But just as he was about to ask more questions, Mirabel cuts in with a nervous giggle, already sensing a rise in tension.

"Well then," she exclaimed. "I think it's about time I go put the laundry with the rest of the clothes, my arms are getting tired and it's getting late. Laundry is gonna take a while after all!"

Mirabel shifted the basket so that it rested against her hip while holding it and grabbed Antonio's hand. She turned back towards her Tio and asked, "Tio Felix, don't you have to go to Tia Pepa to help her with the weather for the crops?"

Felix looked at her and nodded slowly. "Yes, b-but," he stuttered out. "Right!", Mirabel exclaimed, cutting him off. "Well Tio, I don't want to take up any more of your time! And I have to get these clothes clean soon before I miss all the sun. We'll let you get to it. Come on Toni."

Mirabel walked away quickly with Antonio, subtly helped by Casita in her escape, and before Felix could say anything more they were gone, leaving him behind heartbroken, sad, and confused, wondering why his hijo didn't come to him first. Why he didn't think of his papá to help him with his hair first. Something that Felix always wanted to do with him, like with all his children. Why?

#mama mirabel au #encanto #familia madrigal #mirabel madrigal #maribel madrigal #antonio madrigal #felix madrigal #yikes

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isamiral-soulwolf · 2 years

Text

IsaMira Day 5: Free Day

... Vampire AU? I have no idea.

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Mirabel could admit now that she’d gotten a little cocky. In her defense, it was hard not to; she may not have started out as the bait, but it had been a position she had argued for, had begged for, a way that she could still be useful to the family and help even when they had all left her behind. It had taken her years—Julieta had taken the longest to finally agree, but Alma had stood surprisingly firm for a long time despite Mirabel’s giftless status—but in the end, Mirabel had convinced them to let her be bait. She’d been thirteen then; she’d been doing it now for years.

In hindsight, she’d gotten used to it. Too used to it. When you got used to something, you were more likely to make mistakes. Especially stupid ones.

Stupid mistakes like a large man keeping her arms twisted behind her back to the point of pain with a knife pressed against her throat. Mirabel kept her breaths shallow, afraid that if she breathed too deeply he would cut into her skin, and stumbled to keep up with his large strides as he practically dragged her through the jungle.

Well. At least one thing was going right tonight.

Mirabel took another ragged breath, and decided to risk it. “Look,” she said, and the nerves in her voice were a little too real for her liking, “I already told you, I don’t know anything about this—”

“Shut up.” It was a snarl followed by a yank on her arms, so painful that for a moment Mirabel thought something had happened to one of her shoulders. She hissed out a breath and shut up, focusing on her breathing so she could see clearly again.

She could only hope Dolores and Isabela were nearby; they’d gone out with her tonight and Dolores’ hearing could cover the entire valley, but she hadn’t seen anything of them for the entire night. It kind of ruined the whole point of being bait for people like this otherwise—men and women who hurt their families in the valley, or outsiders sneaking in to try and find the miracle. No one anyone would miss, Dolores always made sure of that.

Hopefully Dolores was hearing all this, because the man was beginning to slow down as they got deeper into the jungle with no sign of what he was looking for. He finally yanked Mirabel to a harsh stop, and she grimaced as the blade dug slightly into her skin; his breath was hot against her ear. “Where are they?”

“I have no idea.”

It was the wrong answer; Mirabel knew this, and didn’t care. His blade cut deeper, and she hissed out slightly in pain as she felt something warm and wet start to run down her throat. Still, she grit her teeth. “I have no idea,” she repeated. “I can’t tell you anything—”

“You’re lying. I know you work with those little monsters, I was told the stories! Now tell me what you know, or—”

A whistle sounded somewhere within the darkness, sharp and high; the man froze at the same time Mirabel’s heart leaped, and before she could think too hard about the potential consequences she whistled back. In the man’s confusion his grip on her had briefly loosened, and it was the only opening Isabela needed.

The vines snapped around the man’s ankle with no warning, yanking him back so hard Mirabel swore she actually heard something crunch; the man screamed and tried to hold on to her, but she was torn out of his grasp and quickly tucked into Dolores’ chest as her cousin turned her back to whatever Isabela was doing, gently framing Mirabel’s face with a weak smile. “Hey,” she murmured. “Sorry we’re late.”

Mirabel coughed as air rushed into her lungs, and ignored the sounds she could hear behind her cousin. “No problem,” she managed. “I had it totally under control.”

“Totally.” Dolores gently brushed the cut on her throat, grimacing. “Is this all he did?”

“Yeah. He made a lot of threats, mostly. Said he heard about us.”

“Hmph. Okay, I’ll bring it up tomorrow. It might be something we need to keep an eye on going forward, if people are starting to hear about us.”

Mirabel was about to respond, but the noises behind Dolores had gone silent and she knew what that meant. Isabela emerged from the shadows of the trees, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand as she approached; Mirabel saw the way she briefly ran her tongue over her fangs, before her eyes found her and Dolores. “Mirabel!”

The increased speed to reach her was, perhaps, overkill, but Mirabel wasn’t going to complain as Dolores stepped aside so Isabela could sweet her into her arms, hissing quietly at the cut. She ran her fingers over it gingerly, shaking her head. “You shouldn’t have kept antagonizing him.”

Mirabel rolled her eyes, batting Isabela’s hand away. “I had to keep him distracted somehow. You two took your time.”

Dolores snorted. “Well, she’s still got an attitude,” she said with an amused smile. “I think she’ll live. We should head home, your mom will want to tend to that.”

“It’s just a shallow cut, come on—”

“I’m going to let her know. See you both back at Casita.”

Dolores finished her words with a little wave, and Mirabel waved back while Isabela just rolled her eyes. It was silent for a few moments as they both listened; Dolores’ hearing covered the entire valley, and there was still a chance she might hear them, but she also tended to tune her hearing past a point.

The moment they were reasonably sure it was safe—it was always impossible to know with Dolores, but they had both learned to live with the uncertainty by now—Isabela stepped in close and tilted Mirabel’s chin up; the kiss she gave her was bruising, and tasted faintly of blood. “Don’t ever do that again,” she whispered the moment they parted.

Mirabel sucked in a breath, laughing weakly. “It’s kind of my job, Isa.”

“Not like that.”

It was easy to think Isabela was simply angry, from listening to her tone; but Mirabel saw the fear in her eyes, and it was for that reason that she leaned in again, gently brushing her sister’s hair out of her face before she kissed her for a second time. It was gentler, slower, and after a moment Isabela sighed quietly and leaned into it, melting into Mirabel’s touch.

“You know I can’t promise that,” Mirabel murmured when they parted, brushing her fingers against her cheek. “You all need to feed, and the people I lure in need to be kept off their guard.”

Isabela sighed quietly, taking Mirabel’s hand and kissing her fingers. “We’ll talk about this in the morning. It was too close this time.”

Mirabel could compromise. “Okay.” She paused, the smiled slightly and bumped their foreheads together. “So am I going back to my room tonight, or…”

“After that?” Isabela’s eyes gleamed. “Absolutely not.”

#isamira #madrigalcest #isamira week #isamira vampire au #my writing

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 3 years

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I need more of the fell dragon chrom au HOW WILL MORGAN PLAY INTO THIS?? HOW ABOUT THE OTHER CHILDREN??? N O I R???????????

Morgan, oh god Morgan. In the Future Past, he ends up on Grima’s side even when it’s a very clear-cut “Grima is trying to murder everyone, Chrom was killed and Robin disappeared and Grima rose up immediately after, eating people from his own cult, and immediately setting fire to everything, Grima is definitely evil” matter. But in this situation, where you see both Grima-as-Robin and Naga-as-Chrom coming up alive, badly wounded, and each with an opposing story about who was the aggressor in their conflict, it is going to be a much uglier situation internally for the original Shepherds. And the kids - Morgan is as much his mother’s son as Lucina is her father’s daughter. Morgan is, without question, fighting for Grima, siding with his mother’s ghost and corpse.

And god, Morgan’s not just fighting against his sister and his friends in this situation. The ghost of his father - a puppet of him, his body not his heart - stands across from him on the battlefield, too. Chrom’s not so gone.

It probably wouldn’t just be Lucina and Morgan who split apart, either. I think the Shepherds could all fracture - the original Shepherds, the Ylisseans, are going to stay with Chrom to defend their home. Plegia did start this original war, after all. That’s not a good look. And while Grima and Naga both command their armies with brutal pragmatism, throwing lives away to get a shot at each other, Naga is at least pushing the fighting away from Ylisse, across the border to Plegia, while Grima keeps bringing the fighting into their homeland. Lissa and Frederick, of course, and Sumia and Cordelia, Stahl, Sully, Vaike, Miriel, Kellam, Ricken, Mirabelle, Donnel, all fight for Naga. Libra would too - and present Libra would have a hell of a time, having to confront the fact that the god he’s dedicated his life to doing good in the name of is truly a monster - and Panne respects Emmeryn as the Exalt, so she would stay with Naga. On the other hand, Tharja and Henry don’t have any particular attachment to Ylisse and weren’t raised with any impression of Naga, and Tharja is very attached to Robin, so I imagine they might go with Grima.

Since Naga is also a brutal commander, with little regard for the lives of her army, I wonder if the death of some of the original Shepherds could cause their kids to switch sides and join Morgan after all his appeals. Grima is little better, as a harsh pragmatist who also has a penchant for sacrificing whatever lives deemed necessary, but considering Naga is claiming a righteous crusade against Grima, those words might ring a little hollow and make some of the kids see the cracks and start to wonder if Morgan’s argument, that it’s Naga who truly desires the end of the world, and Grima who only wants Naga defeated, is true.

Which....oh god, can you imagine, if there’s two factions of kids who travel to the past. Lucina and her friends, and then Grima chasing her with Morgan and the last few kids. That really makes this a very overcomplicated AU, but like....it’s also a super interesting concept. AU of the AU? It’s just hard to wrangle how the kids reuniting with their parents works if some of the kids are also at each others’ throats within the Shepherds while they also are fighting against Walhart.

........and then there’s Tiki, I just realized. I don’t want to make her evil, and Naga doesn’t really need a Voice if Naga is able to use those of the Exalt bloodline as vessels, so maybe Tiki just doesn’t really know how her mother is at all, and ends up mislead the same way Lucina is.

All of this is just like. I love pain. Love to inflict it on myself.

Don’t think about the fact that through all of this, there’s still Chrom and Robin’s souls buried beneath Naga and Grima, both of them struggling to regain control before they have to watch everyone they love die, on both sides of the war, knowing that across every battlefield there’s one of their children, and their spouse, at the other end, commanding that enemy army, and they can’t make this end.

#fire emblem chatter tag #Future Past 3 was a fucking GIFT to me with all the grima-robin stuff #i will be thinking about it until i die and this au is a GREAT place to think about it #bc i get to think about it TWICE with BOTH chrom and robin #i am not the person i was before reading 'i can't bear to watch you die again'#and 'the woman who used to control this body loved your father'#i will never be the same person after experiencing that. this game just gave me everything #monochrome-dusk

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pastelwitchling · 4 years

Text

A small piece based on this picture of Tyler and Dylan Blackburn ❤

***

“Alex?”

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. He was exhausted. He’d been looking through these Project Shepherd files on Alex’s kitchen counter for hours, but it felt like years. The sky had turned black (Michael was pretty sure it was past midnight), but the snow was still falling outside. His mug of hot coffee had turned cold, and Michael shivered. As he stared out the window, he called again.

“Alex.”

And again, no reply came. Alex had turned remarkably silent around noon, and it was only half an hour ago when his beagle, Buffy, had decided to bark incessantly before dragging him out of the kitchen. Michael was secretly glad for it. Alex looked like he would be sick if he saw his family name on one more record.

Michael shut his eyes and turned away from the files, unable to take another glance at them himself. It was brutal work, he realized, to involve yourself in Project Shepherd. He wondered if this was what Alex had sat through all those months that he and Kyle had spent working through the Manes’ documents. It made Michael sick. How had Alex not collapsed under the weight of it all?

“Alex, are you…” his words trailed off as he stepped into the living room. There Alex was, curled around Buffy in front of the fireplace. He had his arm around his beagle’s waist, his sweater having ridden up his own. The flames reflected a golden tinge on Alex’s smooth skin, and Michael found his eyes lingering there longer than he knew he was allowed.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and came up to Alex, taking a seat behind him, his back against a table leg. He stared at Alex’s form, his dark hair curled around his ears and the nape of his neck, his shoulders rising and falling with each soft breath.

Michael huffed a chuckle. “So this is where you were.”

At his words, Buffy suddenly looked up at him, her eyes boring into his.

Michael raised a brow, and tried not to blush as if the dog had heard his thoughts. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

Buffy stared a moment, then set her head down, and went back to sleep with her paw against Alex’s cheek. Michael knew it was ridiculous, but he envied her. She had the freedom to curl up beside Alex, to touch his jaw without any fears or repercussions. On nights like this, when sweaters and hot drinks just weren’t warm enough, all Michael wanted to do was hold Alex. He remembered dark winter days when Alex had still been away at war, and the fear of what had happened to him, whether or not he was still alive, made the hours unbearable. In that time, he had wanted nothing more than to know where Alex was, that he was safe.

Now, Michael wanted to reach out and touch him. So he did.

His fingers were slow and hesitant, and he found himself glancing more at Buffy than he did at Alex, afraid she would wake up again, and bark, and alert Alex to what the cowboy was doing.

When his fingers touched Alex’s exposed skin, he closed his eyes, the warmth from that small bit of contact spreading throughout his entire body. He sighed deeply.

“Damn it,” he breathed. He’d hoped it would be enough, but he felt unable to pull away. “Just this once,” he muttered. Just this once, he wanted to touch Alex as freely as if they were together, like they were supposed to be. Just this once, he wanted to have Alex curled against him. Just this once, he wanted to know that the airman was in his arms, that he was protected.

Slowly, Michael moved to lie behind Alex, bringing an arm around his waist. He held his breath as Alex’s back fit perfectly against his chest, as Alex stirred slightly but otherwise seemed comfortable and content.

Michael pressed his nose to the back of Alex’s head, inhaling his scent. Suddenly, all the misery of Project Shepherd faded away, and all that was left was Alex and Michael in front of the fireplace together.

Buffy peeked her eyes open at Michael, and Michael was unable to help but smile, ruffling her fur. “Yeah, you, too.”

Buffy seemed satisfied with that, and closed her eyes. Michael closed his as well, and opened them again when he felt Alex’s hand come up to cover his own on his waist. Alex patted his hand gently, as if he was the one protecting Michael, and kept it there.

Michael’s eyes burned, and he pressed a soft kiss to the nape of Alex’s neck, the storm outside going on, unnoticed.

***

I didn’t use the Keep Reading thing just because I feel like this one-shot is already so small, you know? If it bothers anyone, let me know, and I’ll cut it down.

I know this is tiny, but I’m honestly pretty happy with it. I think it’s cute and soft, just as the original picture is. Though, of course, nothing can ever be that cute... I don’t do miracles.

Anyway, I’ve finished! And it’s still 8 pm! I wonder what I should do now 🤔 Oh! I know! Perhaps I can just leave this little link here! You guessed it; it’s my new twitter account! On it, I will be posting malex, kylex, and mirabel aus and short stories that I’d rather jot down in threads on the spot instead of turn into full stories, as well as update announcements, and malex fanart! I really want to try to create a fun, creative malex/kylex/mirabel/echo community on twitter. I’d even like to post some Shadowhunters stuff, I don’t know yet. I think it could be really great.

At any rate, please feel no pressure to follow, I’ll still be regularly posting here. Twitter will just be for the extra stuff that I never really know what to do with, among other things.

That’s all folks! 🐷🌸💕🐷🌸💕🐷🌸💕🐷🌸💕

#alex manes #michael guerin #buffy manes #malex #malex one shot #malex fanfic #malex fic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #malex angst #malex fluff #tyler blackburn #dylan blackburn #michael vlamis

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