Pezmeurto's new hat <3

Thanks to @empty-cryptid for finding this hat and wondering if Pezmeurto would like it. I think she would! Original hat below cut

The Encanto Big Bang is today!

For that @encantobigbang, I wrote almost every character of the movie acting in a play, in a fic you can find below!

Enjoy!

Furthermore, you can find here my wonderful artist's instagram account, Eirien, who I love too much for her peace. You'll also find her arts embedded in the fic!

NAME THAT GUY

The Discord server which brought you Milk Day and Encantober is back at it with ~another one~, but this time it's much less creatively taxing.

We know Lili, we know Sr. "the donkeys got out again!" Rendon, we know Osma/Ozma Pezmuetro and Señora "could you reroute the river?" Osma/Ozma (no relation[?]), we know Old Arturo (or do we?) but what about all of the other blink-and-you'll-miss-them side characters in Encanto? Don't they deserve universally accepted fanon names too?

I wish to set out to do that, in a...completely non-binding manner because I'm polite. In this post I will be accepting nominations to give a name to...

CACTUS GUY! Observe him, consider him, and put what you feel his name is in the notes. Add justification/propaganda if you like, and I'll compile the top 9 into a poll so we can name him once and for all. He's been through enough.

(Again, this is all in good fun and not at all binding, I just wanna play with polls more.)

Princesa Bruno is, surely, the best Bruno.

I tried to stay away. But the idea of Bruno in a tiara (plus a slightly flirtier chapter of Nettle & Daisy to come) drew me back in. Bruno is tired of being set up with his ex-girlfriend who thinks he can kill fish with his mind. Luckily, his sobrinas - and a bag of makeup - are close by to help out...

Bruno had done a lot of things wrong in his life. But, apparently, the worst of his crimes was getting into his mid-thirties without having a big wedding and popping out a few more little miracles for the community. Hence, Señora Pezmuerto’s latest visit to La Casita. With Ozma.               He stared into the wardrobe in his vision cave – really, just a hollowed-out wall where the sand couldn’t get to – the brand-new ruana that Mamá had bought for the occasion staring right back at him. “You want Ozma to see you at your best, don’t you?” she’d said, shooting him a pointed look. And that had been his moment; the moment to tell her that he didn’t want Ozma and she very, very much didn’t want him. That he wasn’t a kid anymore and she needed to get over this dumb, romanticised idea that –               “I mean. I mean, it doesn’t really…Mamá, me and Ozma…”               The next thing he knew, his Mamá’s hand was cupping his cheek. “You look so much like your Papa, mi vida.” Her eyes were filled with this…this softness that Bruno barely ever got to see. She smiled, squeezing his cheek beneath her fingers, and Bruno felt is resolve weaken, just a little. Just enough. “He would want to see you happily married. With children by your side. And Ozma is intelligent and beautiful, with a good family behind her – a perfect match for the family.”               “But Mamá…”               “Go get changed. And brush your hair.” Mamá ruffled his curls, tutting. “You’re growing it so long these days, Brunito. It isn’t tidy.”               Bruno groaned, pulling the ruana down from its shelf and slipping it over his head. Ozma and Bruno had a…complicated past. She’d had this inexplicable crush on him all through their childhoods, which Bruno had regarded with a sort of detached confusion. Then, when he got a little older and realised girls were kinda interesting, he and Ozma had, um, let’s call it ‘dated.’ Off and on. Enough that the family took notice. Then The Fish Incident happened.               She’d been grieving. He knew that. He knew what it was like to lose a pet; he had rats, after all. They don’t exactly live forever. But in the middle of her tears, Ozma had told Bruno that it was his fault Triton had died, because of the vision he gave her. And he’d lost his temper. Told her that was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. She knew that wasn’t how visions worked, and he was sick – sick! – of being blamed for stuff that wasn’t his fault. But she stuck by it. Told the whole town. So now, they barely talked. But Mamá wasn’t buying that; she was convinced that his and Ozma’s grand love story was only one dinner party away. Because, in the Encanto, the only thing stopping True Love must be that there weren’t enough social functions thrown at the problem.               “Tio Bruno? Tio, it’s us!”               Bruno started as three tiny sets of feet pounded up the stone steps to his vision cave. He couldn’t even manage them without feeling like he was dying. Oh, to be young again.               Little Isabela, Dolores and Luisa burst into his cave, out of breath but giggling at each other in their pretty party dresses. The three oldest Madrigal grandkids had formed a little pack, these days, since Mirabel and Camilo came along. Luisa seemed thrilled to not be considered The Baby anymore, getting to tag along with Dolores and Isabela instead of sticking close to her (very preoccupied) Mamá. She was clutching something in her hand – some sort of bag? Bruno couldn’t keep track of all the toys these kids had.               “Hey, girls,” Bruno sighed, straightening out the ruana with a flick of his hands. “You been sent to get me?”               “Mm-hmm,” Isabela nodded. “Abuela says we need to make sure you brush your hair.”               I’m thirty-five years old and the six-year-old gets sent to check up on me. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mamá. “Well,” he said, spinning around on his tiptoes, arms outstretched, “how do I look? Dashing, I hope.”               Isabela and Dolores looked at each other. “Um…you look…” Isa began, her politest smile plastered over her face.               “You’re very…” Dolores offered, reaching out for her tio’s hand.               “I like your old one better, Tio Bruno.” Luisa went into his wardrobe and pulled out his old, faithful, beloved, barely-fit-for-purpose ruana that he wore day to day. “That one is too small!”               It was true. The new ruana was a better fit. Actually showed off that he had, y’know, a torso. But Bruno liked his old one because it was so huge. It was comfy. “I know, Luisa,” he said, taking it from her and folding it up again. “But your Abuela got this one made special for me. S-so I gotta wear it.”               His newly-anointed second-littlest sobrina pouted. “Thas’ no fair.”               You’re telling me.               Isabela nudged her side with a smile. “Luisa, tell him what we brought.”               Luisa instantly brightened, pushing the bag in her hand up into Bruno’s face. “We brought some stuff to make you feel pretty, Tio Bruno! Look, look!”               Bruno took the bag from her and undid the clasp. Inside there was…               “Makeup?” Bruno asked, taking a lipstick between his fingers and turning it this way and that sceptically.               “Abuela said you need to be pr…pr-presentable for tonight,” Dolores said, picking her way carefully over the big word. “And when we asked what that meant, she said you have to look nice for Señorita Ozma.”                “And then I remembered Tia Pepa gave us some makeup to play with!” Isabela grinned. She had a gap in her teeth where a baby tooth had fallen out last week. She was adorable. “So we brought it up here so we can help.”               “Ah. Um, girls,” Bruno said gently, putting the lipstick away and handing the bag back to Isabela. “That’s…th-that’s a really sweet thought. But I don’t think Abuela would like it if…”               “Bruno!”               Bruno winced as his mother’s voice floated up to him. Hundreds of steps, and yet he could still hear every word she said. This house truly was magic. “I want you downstairs and ready to welcome the Pezmuertos in ten minutes.”               “Yes, Mamá,” Bruno said through gritted teeth.               “Are you wearing the new ruana?”               “Yes, Mamá.”               “And tie your hair back. Tonight must go perfectly, and I will not be embarrassed in front of our neighbours.”               It shouldn’t sting. Not after all this time. But it did. That was almost the worst bit; feeling stupid that it hurt. Bruno’s right hand slipped around to grip his left arm, pads of his fingers digging into the new fabric. So, those were his options; embarrass the family, or get engaged to someone who thought he could kill fish with his mind. Great choices.               Dolores’ hand reached up to unpick his grip around his bicep. “Tio?”               Bruno blinked, looking down at his sobrinas. They were all looking up at him with these big, innocent eyes, but there was a flicker of something in their expression that he recognised from their parents – especially Pepa and Julieta. They were worried about him. They were six and four years old, and they were already worried about Crazy Tio Bruno.               After a long moment, he squatted down to their level. “Y’hear that, girls?” Bruno asked, hugging Dolores close. “We’ve still got ten minutes.”               He sat on the ground with a thump, closed his eyes, and braced himself. “Prettify me.” ... “…Yes, Señora Madrigal; I’m incredibly proud of this year’s breeding program. The Cardinal Tetra will be ready to release into the ornamental pond by next week, and they’ll just be the perfect addition to…”               Are we seriously going to talk about fish all night? Bruno made a face, and Isabela smacked his hand gently. “You’ll smear it,” she whispered.               “Okay, sorry, sorry.”               “Ah, here comes Bruno now. Looking after his sobrinas, I’ve no doubt. He’s so good with the children – which is useful to know, I think…”               “Yes, well; Ozma’s always wanted to have a family. And, as we all know, time waits for no-one – isn’t that right, Ozma? You’re turning thirty-three this year, after all.”               “Yes, Mamá.”               “I’m sure after dinner there will be ample opportunity to…talk…about…”               As Bruno entered the dining room and the girls clambered into their seats, Mamá’s face became a terrible, glorious dawning of horror. Across the table from her, Agustin and Felix simultaneously started to choke on their food, pounding on their chests and shaking each other’s knees in repressed glee. Pepa looked as if she were about to start a hurricane. Julieta just rolled her eyes and left the table. Bruno tucked his hair behind one ear (showing off the clip-on earring of a bright pink flower) and drank it all in.               The girls had done an excellent job. His mouth was a garish, bright red smear of lipstick. His eyes were ringed in purple shadow – Luisa had come at him with an eyeliner stick, but he persuaded her to go in with powder and a brush instead, for the sake of his eyeballs. Isa had drawn a smiley face on his cheek with the eyeliner, instead. Perched in his hair (neatly brushed and tied back with a green ribbon; Bruno was all for malicious compliance) was a sparkly tiara that Luisa had dashed back to the nursery to retrieve, borrowed from her favourite doll. For once in his life, Bruno Madrigal had every set of eyes on him, and it felt absolutely amazing.               He took his seat next to Ozma, nodding politely. “Sorry we’re late,” he said. “Ooh, arepas! Thanks, Juli.”               “Um,” Ozma began, shooting her mother a look. “Um, Bru—I mean, Señor Madrigal…”               “Please,” Bruno said, kicking Agustin under the table to stop him sputtering and giving Ozma his most charming, fakest smile, “Señor Madrigal was my father. Call me Princesa Brunita Elena Glitter-Pants The Fifth.”               Mama’s face darkened. The girls lit up, grinning at each other and squealing. They’d all come up with the name together. Pepa shushed Dolores sharply, and she pretended to focus on her plate for about ten seconds before she started giggling again. Her father wasn’t exactly helping matters; Félix’s shoulders were shaking like he was having a fit. Ozma turned away and focused on her wine glass, drinking deeply. Bruno shrugged, popping an arepa into his mouth. Mamá shot him a venomous look, then returned as best she could to her conversation with Señora Pezmuerto, chatting about this or that event coming up in the Encanto social calendar. But no-one was concentrating anymore, then the babies stated to cry, and the dinner fell apart soon after that, much to Mamá’s chagrin. The girls were sent to bed without dessert, and Bruno was expected to walk Ozma home. Without washing his face first. He supposed that was the beginning of his penance.               “You,” Ozma hissed, taking her hat from the wall hanger and shoving it onto her head, “are an immature, disrespectful idiot.”               “Mmyeh. It wouldn’t have worked out anyway,” Bruno said under his breath, adjusting his tiara, wine glass still in hand.               “It was the same when we were kids. You never –”               “Y-you know José? From church? He’s gonna ask you to go for a walk with him next Sunday. Take him up on it. You’ll thank me.”               Ozma blinked, all the anger dropping away for a moment. “Oh. Oh, Bruno, that’s…you didn’t have to…”               “Well, hey, a-a vision ruined this,” Bruno said, taking a last sip of wine and admiring the lipstick stain he left on the glass. “A vision can fix it. A bit.”               Ozma smiled, and he saw some of that eighteen-year-old kid he’d cared about all those years ago. He did kinda miss her, he had to admit. “Thanks, Bruno. It’s good to know you weren’t my last chance at marriage.”               “Nah. You? You’re too smart for that. You’ll have, like, a million babies and build your aquatic empire.”               “We had fun, though, right? Back then. Before we grew up.”               “Who said I grew up?” Bruno tossed his hair, hands on his hips, and Ozma laughed reluctantly. “But I mean, yeah. Yeah, course we did.” He held out his arm, winking one purple-smeared eye. “So? Can I walk you home?”               Ozma’s smile dropped away. “No. Absolutely not. You look ridiculous.”               “Fair. No, that’s fair.”

Disney Modern AU: some more Encanto characters

I got bored, so here's some more modern AU with Encanto side characters!

Note: I’ll do Mariano, Señora Guzmán and Osvaldo’s modern stories in a different post!

Alejandra

Alejandra Pezmuerto lived with her mother, Ozma Pezmuerto, and her father.

Since she could walk, the girl struggled to sit still and keep quiet, interrupting conversations and constantly moving her arms or legs whenever she did sit.

This caused quite a few problems for her parents, unable to manage their daughter sometimes.

When she was 4, Alejandra was diagnosed with ADHD. This explained quite a bit for her parents.

But despite her diagnosis, Alejandra was able to enroll and attend elementary school.

She quickly met two of her new classmates, Juancho and Cecilia, and the three quickly became friends.

While Cecilia sometimes couldn’t handle Alejandra constantly talking and walking all over the place, the two and Juancho formed a strong friendship.

But later in the school year, the three kids noticed a boy sitting all alone in class. He seemed lonely, and the teacher didn’t seem to notice it. So the three kids invited him to sit with them!

The boy accepted, though he seemed quite shy.

But soon enough, the boy started to talk to them, and introduced himself as Antonio.

Alejandra, Juancho and Cecilia soon became friends with him, and the four kids formed a strong friendship!

But one day, Antonio was really sad. He didn’t look at them, and seemed like he could burst into tears any moment…

Alejandra, Cecilia and Juancho tried cheering him up with coffee, but that didn’t do much…

Later, Antonio told them that his favorite prima, Mirabel, had left the family and moved to another country, somewhere far away!

Alejandra, Juancho and Cecilia hugged their friend while he bursted into tears, telling him that its okay to cry and that he still had them. They all three may be only-children, but they couldn’t imagine their parents suddenly leaving them and moving somewhere else…

Luckily, Antonio did get better after Juancho gave him a cup of coffee, and Alejandra talking about her mother’s goldfish.

Overal, despite some ups and downs, Alejandra wouldn’t trade her three friends for anything!

Juancho

Juancho lived with his mother and father, who didn’t really pay that much attention to him, at all. Sure, they gave him food, clothing and shelter and all the necessities, but they just left him to his own devices.

This caused the boy to wander all over the city, all by himself, feeling quite lonely. Thank goodness nothing happened to the kid…

He also started to drink coffee, lots and lots of coffee. Not that that’s concerning, many kids drink coffee in Colombia. It’s just the amount that worried adults…

Whenever people in Bogotá see the boy in question, he’s always wandering by himself with a full cup of coffee in his hands. Which always made adults ask; “Where are his parents?!”.

It wasn’t when Juancho started elementary school when it finally stopped.

That didn't stop the teachers from being concerned though. Some of them even considered calling CPS because they have literally never seen the boy's parents with him. But he wasn't abused and really seemed to be happy fine, so...

In school, the boy quickly made friends with two girls, Alejandra and Cecilia.

After the three kids met and befriended Antonio, Juancho would sometimes give him a cup of coffee to drink. While Antonio didn't like it, he appreciated the gesture.

While his parents barely acknowledged him, Juancho was happy to have his three friends by his side! They were his real familia, even when they were all 5 years old.

Cecilia

Cecilia lived with her single father, her mother having left the family for another man shortly after Ceci was born...

It hit her Papá quite hard, but he tried his best to raise his daughter.

Cecilia herself didn’t feel the absence of her mother…yet. She just knew that her Papá would always be there for her.

In elementary school, she quickly befriended two kids named Alejandra and Juancho. The two could sometimes be hyperactive and annoying, but Cecilia managed. She didn't want her best friends to be any different.

When she and her friends met and befriended Antonio, the four kids often had play-dates at Ceci's house. Alejandra's parents couldn't handle four kids, even for a few hours. Juancho's parents were barely home. And Antonio's parents were mostly working and his siblings didn't want three more kids in the house unless Mirabel was there to look after them. Ceci's father was happy to let the three kids in his house, happy to see his daughter having friends.

Cecilia was quite happy as well. She had an amazing papá, and three friends who are always there for her!

Señora Pezmuerto

Ozma actually went to high school with the triplets.

While she became friends with Pepa (who she was still friends with) and got along with Julieta, she despised Bruno. Something about that weirdo just irritated her, and she and Pepa often gossiped about him.

Time passed, and Ozma eventually got a job as a ichthyologist in one of Bogotá’s aquariums.

On the weekends whenever they were both free from their work, Ozma and Pepa would meet up at a café to catch up and gossip about the latest drama. This continued even after the two women got married to their respected husbands and had their families.

She eventually got married to her husband, and after many years of trying, they got a daughter who they named Alejandra.

Ever since their daughter could walk, Ozma and her husband struggled to manage her. Alejandra couldn’t sit still for more than 5 minutes, constantly talked and interrupted people, and just couldn’t keep quiet.

When their daughter was 4, Ozma and her husband took her to the doctor, because her hyperactiveness clearly wasn’t normal for a toddler.

Turned out that Alejandra had ADHD. It explained a lot for the parents, and they vowed to be there for Alejandra when things got tough for her, especially when she would start school.

Eventually, Alejandra did start school. And to Ozma’s surprise, it actually went pretty good for her daughter! She made two friends, and she was really happy!

Sure, there would be some struggles in the future, but Ozma and her husband were sure it would all turn out okay in the end.

Decay AU | Lest the rot lingers P2

There was a lot in life that Abuela had come to expect and what to allow for in her household and with magic and gifts, it was imperative for maturity and control to be a huge factor to get through each day. Abuela was well aware that some gifts, like Luisa’s, could be devastating if the girl was to ever slip up. Like how Pepa could easily uproot or flash flood crops if she got too upset…

Accidents happened and while that was displeasing, there was no intent to harm and things could be fixed and everyone moved on and a lesson learned.

The stickiness along her hands, the red that stained them and the sight of Mirabel wrapped up then next on the floor terrified her more than she ever expected; a fear she hadn’t felt in a long time. Abuela felt a deep fury to see the thorns and puncture marks around her arm; tracing a swirled pattern of the binding that had held her and there was no doubt more across her body; the red that had been growing on the white easily showed that.

But Julieta was caring to her daughter and Abuela was relieved to see the punctures fade away before Mirabel threw herself into her mother’s chest and began to weep. Abuela nodded Luisa to follow her from the nursery and let the two alone; she’d ask Mirabel later on what happened

“Is there anything I can do?” Luisa asked gruffly, her eyes wide and shaken.

Abuela’s lips pursed but the answer was easy. “Stay outside Isabela’s room and keep her in until I’m ready to talk to her.”

Luisa nodded swiftly and went to stand ready before Abuela turned and headed off towards the bathroom.

The girl was smart enough to run to her room but she knew it was most likely out of cowardice than to face her head-on for her actions. The girl knew she had done something completely unacceptable. It left a bitterness in her stomach at the thought of anyone, especially Isabela of all, to use her gift to restrain someone, not only someone but her own sister. One that was Giftless and vulnerable; no defence and from the looks of it, it had been purposeful.

It wasn’t just restraint; the grip the plants had must have been massive to render anyone unable to breathe in, the thorns looked to be salt in the wounds. Mirabel could have suffered broken ribs and far worse—much worse than Abuela wanted to think. But at least Julieta was tending to her now, It’d take more than Arepa to fully help and that was only the physical side.

The cool water of the sink was pleasing but the red that came off turned her stomach but she kept washing until her hands were cleaned raw and the smell of copper no longer overwhelmed her but her skin tingled as she dried them and went to collect a bowl of water and a cloth for Julieta and deposited them quickly before the rest of the family seemed to return.

“What happened?” Agustín asked first, his face serious with concern as he looked towards the nursery. “Dolores said Mirabel got hurt?”

“Julieta is seeing to her now.” Abuela spoke firmly, “Isabela’s work. For now she’s confined to her room.”

“What?” Agustín looked startled at the news but didn’t wait before he turned and dashed up towards the steps, disappearing into the Nursery a few seconds later.

“Mama?” Pepa frowned, “what happened?”

“Isabela attacked Mirabel. I didn’t catch the entire argument but for now we need to gather everyone together once we’ve got things settled. Felix, Camilo, I need you two to go to the centre and talk to Señora Ozma and Señor Flores and inform them that an incident has occurred at the Las Casa Madrigal and we’ll be unavailable for community service for an undetermined amount of time until the matter is resolved. This is a private matter, so don’t let slip.”

She fixed her nieto with a firm look because this was the last thing she wanted to get out; a madrigal attacking another with their gift would look bad on the family. Ozma certainly had connections to get the word out and reorganise in their absence with Flores’s support until she could think on Encanto.

“Si, Abuela.” Both father and Son headed off with a swift nod.

“Pepa, go and see if you can find any of Mirabel’s clothes from the laundry room and any strain removers.”

“Strain removers?”

“There’s blood.” Abuela winced, watching how Pepa’s eyes widened then turned into a concerned frown and her cloud darkened, “Mirabel loves that shirt.” It was in most part to keep Pepa busy but Mirabel’s clothes had been personalised; people would pick up notice if her outfit changed and… it may be a shame if Mirabel lost her hard work.

“I’ll see to it.” Pepa hurried off but she picked up a wandering Antonio and took him with her.

“Dolores,” Abuela then addressed, “What’s Isabela doing now?”

“Freaking out…crying. She’s….terrified.”

Abuela’s lips pursed, “If she’s at risk to herself or attempts to leave through her windows or trying to get past Luisa then let me know immediately.” She didn’t want any more shame to be brought to the family if Isabela thought running away would be productive. “No one else is to go there before me, okay?”

“Si Abuela.”

Abuela nodded and departed towards her room; she needed to take a moment to think and properly compose herself before she’d risk going to talk to her eldest nieta. Not for the risk Isabela pose but Abuela knew she needed to be clear headed herself to properly get to the bottom of such disgusting actions.

 --

Isabela felt sick. A nauseous sick with no follow through, she could feel the adrenaline in her veins and she couldn’t stop pacing because of those combined. She couldn’t sit still and it was like her senses were in overdrive in dreaded anticipation that she knew was coming in the form of Abuela.

It had been hours since she had hurt her sister and no one had come to her which made it all the worse; in her mind she was churning it all over and over and it made the sensation in her gut more willing to rise.

Guilt clawed at her throat, her feet ached with how long she had been on them and her roses had long since prickled her ankles painfully. Her back ached the most from Luisa’s shove into the banister pole and she was sure she’d get a horrible bruise but….she couldn’t pay the aches in her body any heed; it didn’t matter because she was certain Mirabel was in a worst state than she was.

She could only imagine what Abuela was thinking and none of it was good. Abuela had seen her do it as well. Isabela knew how it looked; she had no defences that made herself look reasoned and she doubted Mirabel was in away state to say anything; not that she thought she would paint her in a good light anyway.

Isabela didn’t notice the shift in colours in her pacing around her room the roses and flora de mayo turn to a flurry of others like peony’s and marigolds… but some patches of roses had simply withered away in some areas, like her poised statues that fell apart one after the other.

The door opening suddenly had her jumping out of her skin in a wash of new fear, she could feel the flowers pop into her hair before she looked down to her somewhat grassy patch she was in.

Abuela was the first to enter, her head held high with face of thunder that she had never had to been at the end of. Until today.

The coils of shame wrapped around her insides like a frozen grip. Cold and burning.

Behind Abuela was her father but he didn’t seem to be nearly as imposing as Abuela but his expression was serious; all the fun nature he usually was wasn’t…for her. Another stab of guilt clawed at her stomach. She had hurt her family; of course her parents would be ashamed of her behaviour too, not just her Abuela.

Her fingers balled up tightly behind her, feeling small and insignificant as Abuela came to a stop.

“I…” Abuela started, “I am so disappointed in you.”

She expected Abuela to raise her voice and start yelling but the calmness was very disconcerting along with the words. Isabela couldn’t meet her eye.

“Our blessings were given to help our community. Our family. Never before has a gift been used for malicious intent or in anger such as that.” Abuela shook her head in disgust. “I never expected you to stoop that low and hurt not only your younger sister but someone who cannot defend themselves.”

Isabela flinched at her words, her throat feeling thick.

“You could have killed her.” Abuela shook her head tightly, “You’re fortunate that Dolores alerted me sooner. You may just have if I hadn’t and in all honesty, I have no idea what would have happened if you did.” SH inhaled deeply, “Not to mention, if this got out then your actions have damaging consequences to the family and our reputation.”

Isabela found her voice. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean—“

“Save your apologies, Isabela. Right now, I am not here to hear them or some petty excuse for your actions. You got angry and you used your gift on your sister to hurt her. That is not acceptable. I will not accept that behaviour in this family.”

Isabela’s jaw snapped shut, wanting nothing more than the ground to swallow her up and to stop hearing the words that were so true. Abuela had a standard set and she hit the bar low now. She pulled on all the years of a ‘perfect’ act to keep her face straight; to keep her standing than to collapse on the floor.

Not in front of Abuela.

She had to have some dignity, even with the grief and regret that grew in every beat of her heart that she knew she deserved. That didn’t stop a few more of her flowers to wither and die at her feet or how the flowers in her hair also died and dropped off.

Isabela didn’t notice.

“Right now, no punishments have been decided. Until then, you’re confined to your room. You’ll only be allowed to leave under two conditions; bathroom needs or a life-threatening emergency. Your parents will bring you your meals.”

Isabela nodded numbly. “Si, Abuela.”

With a high head and nothing else to say, Abuela turned and walked away. She expected her father to follow but instead he reached forwards, a warm hand coming to her arm but she refused to look him in the face; scared of seeing his expression. His seriousness…his disappointment. She could already feel it.

“Clean up the mess in your room while you’re at it. I will not have you lose any more control of your gift.” Abuela added before she saw herself out and the door shut after her.

There was a moment’s pause before Agustín broke the silence she was unwilling to break.

“She’s okay, Mirabel’s trying to get out of bed but Antonio’s keeping her in for now.”

Isabela exhaled softly, relief flooding into her veins but it didn’t too long. Not really.

“I..I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“I know.” Agustín sighed, “But, meaning and doing are two different things, Isa.”

Isabela shrunk away from his touch. Folding her arms around her middle to self-sooth; to keep grounded than break down now.

“isa…” His tone hardened if a fraction at her blatant rebuke of his attempt of small affection.

“I know I’m in trouble, Papa.” She spoke more firmly. “I know what I did is wrong. I don’t need to be told a hundred times. I’m…relieved Mirabel is okay. I…need to be alone right now.”

That was when she gave him a soft, pleading look, hating how he looked so…disappointed in her right now, aching her heart just a little bit more but he nodded after a moment.

“Your mother will be in later with your dinner.”

Isabela nodded before she turned and headed towards her bed, her feet crushing the dying flowers under her shoes with ease but hearing the door filled her with relief as much as her glance to check she was alone…

Before she let herself crumple to her bedside and let her grief out in tears and painted breaths as she began to tear up her flower beds of those that survive her rot. Holding back her desire to scream out in her overwhelming heat of emotions that swam to the surface, simply to not have Dolores raise alarms…

Im tired of saying and seeing this shit so correct spellings of Encanto characters down below! I would highly recommend reading this if youre not entirely sure on spellings or just in general!

Format:

(Correct character name spelling)

(Misspellings)

(Potential reasons for misspellings/ why they’re wrong/ nicknames from movie if applicable)

Abuela Alma.

I haven’t really seen any misspellings for her! Maybe an “Amla” but thats understandable

Abuelo Pedro

Haven’t seen anything for him either!

Julieta

This one, along with all of them, I understand.

“Julietta” or “Juiletta” or “Juileta” or “Juliette”

Common and understandable mistakes

Pepa

“Peppa”

She has a nickname tho! Its Pepi 😌

Bruno

Lmao literally in a song title. Havent seen a misspelling for this one

Agustín

“Augustine” “Augustin” “Augustín”

I actually used that last misspelling a few times when not paying attention, lol

The accent isnt there for show! But again, understandable if you never learned Spanish, they can be easy to overlook.

Also, no “Au”

Félix

“Felíx” “Felix”

Again, just the accent placement or lack of accent. Its in there, and its above the e!

Isabela

“Isabella” “Isabelle”

Very common and I get it! I was confused learning Spanish and the Spanish spelling of my name because my name has a double L but my Spanish name didnt. A double L makes a y sound, so youre actually saying “Isabeya” in Spanish when you spell it “Isabella”

Dolores

Haven’t seen one other than the occasional typo like “Doloras”

Edit: Someone mentioned seeing “Delores” a few times. Its actually a variant of the name “Dolores”, but its still not her name.

Luisa

“Louisa” “Lusia”

No “o”. I think people are getting it from “Louis”, which, okay, but her name is more of a female version of “Luis”

Camilo

“Camillo”

Same shit that I had mentioned with Isabela’s name. No double L. That makes “Camiyo”

Mirabel

“Maribel” “Mirabelle” “Maribelle”

Not much of an explanation but at this point just listen to how their names are said in the movie bc in Spanish the word is almost always (and by that I mean like 99%) spelled how it sounds

Antonio

I haven’t seen one, actually.

He has a nickname too tho! Toñito 😁

Other people:

Mariano

Señora Ozma

Hernando (hood over head Bruno)

Jorge (bucket over head Bruno)

Señora Guzmán

Casita

~Come, mi corazón, let's rest~

Isabela Madrigal x gn!reader

Summary: After Isabela has an especially stressful day, (Y/N) invites her to relax <3

Warnings: Anxiety mentions, Isa getting yelled at by the town :(, mentions of a random guy getting stabbed by a cactus, happy ending tho.

A/N: Ahhh tysm for all the love on my last two stories! It makes me so happy to know that people enjoy my writing. Btw, if you don't like hot cocoa, you can change it to a different drink for this story :)

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Isabela Madrigal knew pressure. Its dreadful presence was not uncommon in the girl's life. After all, she was the 'golden child', the perfect Madrigal, and Abuela's comments had never helped. After her proposal to Mariano had been called off, she had a lot of work to do to maintain her image.

Even after Mirabel showed her that she didn't need to be perfect, that she was allowed to be herself without any worries, Isabela had had high standards of herself since she was young, and she did not intend on slipping anytime soon.

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

Until she met you.

You were a breath of fresh air, a tulip amongst a rose bush, a flamingo amongst a pack of penguins.

Isabela adored you from the moment she saw you; your hair messy and blowing in the wind, eyes glimmering in the summer sun and a thick layer of mud up to your knees. Surely it would have bothered anybody else, but not you.

Despite how cliche it may sound, you were different, and your difference from the world around you only intrigued Isabela more.

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

After Casita had been rebuilt, the Madrigal finally got enough courage to talk to you. She was a bit taken aback by how easy-going you were, and it would only be a few weeks before she asked you if you would be willing to be her lover.

And of course you said yes, how would it even be possible to say no to those cinnamon-coloured doe eyes?

Having Isabela as your girlfriend meant you also had a big responsibility, to make La Familia Madrigal like you. But it wasn't a problem, within only a few hours you were having your hair braided by Isabela's mother Julieta, while you and her father spoke enthusiastically about a book you'd bonded over.

The Madrigals loved you, almost as much as Isabela did.

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Isabela's day had been stressful, to say the least.

She had accidentally grown rhododendrons instead of sunflowers for Señora Ozma, to which she responded by scolding the girl for about fifteen minutes instead of calmly pointing it out.

The woman's rant had taken valuable time away from Isabela's day, time that was needed for her other jobs.

Next, she had sneezed abruptly, resulting in a few members of the town being bombarded with brightly coloured flowers, the equally as bright powders spraying over their clothes and hair. Luckily, Isabela had managed to get away before the whole town could yell at her.

Next she'd injured a random tradesman with a cactus because he made a comment about Mirabel. He deserved it, of course, but Isabela didn't deserve being shoved into the lake.

And then there she was, drenched from head-to-toe with shivers shaking through her tall frame. Despite her Tío Bruno's attempt to talk to her, she stormed up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door open, wanting and needing the only thing that could possibly cheer her up.

You.

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

She noticed you almost immediately, curled up on her extravagant bed, a book in your hands and two cups of hot cocoa on the table beside the bed. You noticed her too, marking your page in your book and shuffling off the bed. Your merry grin quickly faded once you saw the soaking-wet state of your girlfriend.

Isabela quietly shut the door behind her, and profusely burst into tears, the plants at her feet shrivelling up into dust. The sight of your completely and utterly distraught love made you feel like shrivelling up into dust.

You had stood there frozen for a few moments, before striding towards Isabela and wrapping your arms around her. She returned the gentle embrace, nuzzling her nose into your neck for comfort.

You pulled away and rested your hands on her tear-stained face. After pressing a light kiss to her lips, you whispered,

'Come, mi corazón, let's rest.'

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

The mugs of cocoa on the bedside table were empty and the room was quiet, besides the soft breathing of your peaceful girlfriend. She had gotten dry and changed into something comfortable, instead of her normal frilly dress.

She lay still in your arms, her face peaceful with sleep, while you twisted your fingers through her dark locks of hair, your eyes fluttering with fatigue.

Yes, Isabela's life could be rather stressful. But with you by her side, the world seemed to be a lot less nerve-wracking.

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so her name is actually not Ozma it’s just Señora Pezmuerto

would it be bad if I continued to call her Ozma?

Tiles on the Roof

An Encanto Fanfic

Prompts 37-48

“Outside the House”

First | Previous | Next

37. Ordenar

(v) sort through, collect, ordain (religious); masculine singular past participle ordenado

Padre Juan Flores doesn’t mind being the priest in San Ambrosio. In terms of parishes, it’s one of the more easygoing ones for the most part.

Confessional gets a bit weird, though.

“So I impersonated a priest again and I’m not one hundred percent certain that’s a sin but it might be. Papá and Abuela don’t like it, I know that. I got your hairline right this time, though.”

“I have a weird urge to slack off and I hate it. What if Señora Ozma needs me to reroute the river again?”

“Some of the most terrible gossip from around town has reached my ears. I don’t know whether to feel guilty or to warn you about what’s likely coming your way or both.”

Mind you, his own prayers have been a bit strange in recent decades. Gathering his thoughts has never been harder than it was in the first few years.

Lord, a little guidance on the teenage girl in the marketplace who is doing miracle healing? I literally saw someone get their finger reattached this afternoon. Do I need to write to someone in Rome about whether it qualifies her for sainthood?

Lord, I prayed to you for a little rain for my flowers and one of the Madrigal triplets stormed by in a huff and suddenly I was in the middle of a thunderstorm. Are you trying to tell me something or was that just an unhappy coincidence?

Lord, we’re quite clear on the non-efficacy of pagan magic, right? And of course pride is a deadly sin but is there any way you could let me know exactly how clearly pagan magic is false and thus diminish my worries about going completely bald within the next three weeks please??

At least he’s doing better than poor old Padre Antonio Juarez in Macondo. God, the guy’s a gibbering wreck in some of his letters.

38. Banda

(nf) group of musicians, band, sash

They’re new in town. They’ve been there long enough for a few things to sink in, like how “We Don’t Talk About Bruno”, but a lot of it still is new to them.

Gustavo, Carmen, and Tomas are musicians at heart and by trade. Of course they hear the song, and if it’s strange then, well, isn’t this exactly the right place for it? The young lady has a talent—she’s just being modest. Take an accordion, Señorita Madrigal, tell us what we already know! You’ve earned it!

Oddly, she still seems too shy to talk about her gift.

(She does give them the accordion back, mind you, even though she plays it well.)

39. Quejarse

(v) complain, grumble, quarrel; masculine adverbial present participle quejando

Osvaldo is more than a little frustrated by the growth of his belly. Not that he’s vain, you understand, it’s just...well, Bruno Madrigal doesn’t have the best bedside manner in the world.

“I mean, you will grow a gut, that’s, you know, that’s here in the sand, it’s just that, well, think about it like this, you’re gonna enjoy a lot of good food!”

...look, just because he does, doesn’t mean he wants to know that he’ll have to face the consequences, alright?

(The Family Velázquez have given San Ambrosio some of its best shoemakers, but they’re as bad as the Quinteros when it comes to pettiness.)

40. Niñero

(nm) babysitter

It's not exactly like Mariano thought this was a good way to get close to the Madrigals. He's a fifteen-year-old boy, sure, and has had more than a passing interest in girls for a while, but, you know, he's also a fifteen-year-old-boy and babysitting is the last thing on his mind. But Mamá wanted him to give it a try.

"All so busy, the Madrigals," she told him, trying to tidy him up. "And what with poor Mirabel having no gift and her father trying to do what he can around the village, they really do need some help. Besides, it will help smooth things over when it comes time to marry Isabela."

Mariano, youngest of his siblings and generally happier playing the lovelorn fool than upsetting his mamá, shrugged and went along with it.

Let the record state that he was not prepared for this.

Mirabel’s terribly high level of destructibility and propensity for accidents are matched only by her compete disregard for her own safety. At six years old she's already quite precocious (precoz), which Mariano's book Mil palabras que un poeta debe saber defines as "having developed certain abilities or elements more quickly than is usual for one's age" and which Mariano has privately defined as "making up for the natural magic of the Madrigals by trying to do everything at once". Honestly, as a temporary carer he's kind of wasted.

As a big brother figure to Mirabel and occasionally Camilo, though, he's not had quite this much fun in years. And it's not even about impressing The Fair Isabela anymore, he just…likes these kids.

(Mostly. Except when they play that twin trick. That's just being deliberately unfair.

"No, I'm the real Mirabel! Can't you tell?"

"Hmm, that depends. I think that your glasses are just the wrong shade of green, your hair microscopically less bouncy, and you don't walk quite right. You kind of shuffle around instead of dancing."

"No, no, I'm really me! Mister Mariano, you're not being fair."

"I wonder…what did you tell me about Luisa and the bookshelf the other day?"

"I don't remember! What did I say? Anyway, how do I know you're not Camilo pretending to be Mister Mariano? Don’t you trust me?"

"Oh, no, not the wobbly lip, you’re not allowed to be cuter than me...okay, okay, let's all take a deep breath and all twirl back into our proper forms in three…two…onnnnnnnnnnnnne—oh. Alright, I'm sorry, Mirabel. You win. It's getting harder to tell when you act so much like Camilo, you’ve gotten really good at imitating his walk."

"I have?" Shoomp. "Aw, nuts. You nearly got me."

"…I…"

"Mira, Mira, get in here, I got Mister Mariano to make the face again!"

“Yay, we win!”

This calls for an impromptu tickle fight.

“Scoundrels and tricksters! Betrayed by my two best amiguitos! What next?”)

Camilo becomes cooler and more distant as the years go by, but Mirabel he's always been friends with even though she finds his well-crafted “galán distinguido” act to be kind of dumb. She doesn’t even make fun of Mariano for wanting to be a poet—neither do Dolores and Luisa, but they’re about the only ones among his (rough) age-mates who don’t and Dolores is good at keeping secrets (including her own) while Luisa literally doesn’t have time to waste commenting. He’s pretty sure even Isabela doesn’t like his work, although she never gives him a concrete answer one way or the other. The poets talk about love as a time of great passion, but they never say anything about not having small talk.

(Maybe it’s kind of expected that you shouldn’t do it, that it diminishes the romance and then the marriage somehow. His mother and father only really discuss business together, after all, not really anything emotional. And their romance is still talked about in the village. Maybe Isabela is just practicing for that.)

41. Negativas

(adj) negative

“Dios mío, what happened to your face?” wails Rosenda, who has no indoor voice.

“Ay, hermana, I just got kicked,” protests Marta, who has no survival instinct.

“By a cow?”

“...yes?”

“In the head?”

“So I forgot to tie the legs down, so what? I do feel a little...strange, though...”

“Ayy, first my fish and now my sister! A life of eternal loneliness awaits me!”

“Let’s just get you to Señora Madrigal,” says Renata, who has no lack of patience with her older sisters. (And also no qualms about taking out her frustrations on those who cross her, but she at least is working on that.)

42. Curandero

(nm) shaman, witch doctor, quack (medicine), healer

"Taita is a more respectable term, Señora Madrigal," he says mildly. "But no matter. How might I help you?"

Alma Madrigal doesn't look too happy to see him, and neither does her son. But they're both still here, outside his hut on the very edge of the encanto. They are the keepers of the Miracle; he's just set up shop in a particularly potent locale.

His profession, if you may call it that, is to keep balance in the cosmos—or at least a specific part of it. And for that, you need to keep your eyes and ears open—inner eyes and inner ears as well.

Alma Madrigal explains. She is still new to magic, and her sixteen-year-old son has the most uncontrollable magic of all. His oldest sister has complete control over her gift, the middle sister has hers active all the time. (Which explains a lot about the weather in this valley, to be honest.) But Bruno's gift is…erratic. He gets tunnel vision, of a sort, randomly spouting nonsense that somehow comes true. Sometimes it comes true the next day. Once it took over ten years. And it…hurts him, when he uses it. If the gift is to be used properly for the encanto, says Señora Madrigal, then there has to be a way to make it better.

He ponders this.

"You realize what you are actually asking me, Señora Madrigal," he says at last. "I know of your family. I know you know what a taita—an originario—really is. Why would I take on an outsider, from a veritable palace down in the town, and teach him to become a leader just out of nowhere?"

“I am asking you to help my son,” says the woman, a little sharply.

“And I am saying that I have no reason to accept your request. I have other concerns at the moment. Your family’s miracle is...different. Not our magic. I see no reason to give your son a place as an apprentice simply because—”

"You will."

He curses. (He probably shouldn’t but seriously, what the—)

Bruno Madrigal's eyes are lit up, bright glowing green in place of warm worried brown. He looks like he's in agony, like there's too much noise. His voice, when it comes through, sounds...well, “dopplered” isn’t a very common term yet, not in the middle of the rainforest, but it sounds like his voice is coiling back in on itself. Like someone else’s voice is trying to force its way out of his lungs at the same time as Bruno’s.

"You'll tell me and Mamá to leave, and then you'll have time to think, and then we'll meet and a log will roll down the road and nearly trip us up and you'll say yes and I'll learn how to work with the sands and I'll hate it but it has to be done because it keeps getting worse and worse and when I have to leave my family forever I'll remember this moment and—"

“Enough.”

Bruno falters. His breathing becomes easier.

He shouldn’t have Spoken, shouldn’t have cut the boy off, but this...this is new.

“Señora Madrigal,” he manages, a little breathless himself. “I need time to...consider my options here.” He manages to stop himself from saying “think it over”.

She nods, wryly, supporting her collapsed son as gently as she can. “Take all the time you need, Señor Originario. You know where to find us. We live in the veritable palace down in the town.”

He watches them leave.

He is not, as a general rule, given to introspection about the nature of magic. The land works well enough on its own without people mucking about with powers they shouldn’t be dealing with.

But he has to wonder, just a little, what kind of magic did strike the Family Madrigal sixteen years ago, and how the...heck...the land literally changed around them. It could be...intriguing.

Besides...it might be an opportunity to actually bring his people back in line. San Ambrosio is a puebla colonial, yes, but they know about encantos. Giving them a taita, mestizo though he may be, would not be the worst thing in the world, surely.

(He nearly trips over the log. He doesn’t.)

43. Ansia

(nf) craving, yearning; anxiety, apprehension

Elisenda Ozma is old enough to remember San Cristóbal. She remembers the town much better than she does San Ambrosio, to tell you the truth. And maybe she wouldn’t indulge in such trivial things as asking Luisa to reroute the river if it ever proved a problem for her, but it doesn’t, and she enjoys hearing the waters pass near her house on a Sunday like it did in her old home, as she sits in her chair and reminisces.

(“She’s a cat,” sighs Julieta to Agustín. It’s become a code word of sorts for them, a shorthand for something Julieta, for all her powers, just can’t heal. “It’s not like she’s forgetting, she remembers things well, it’s just that I can’t convince her that it’s something that needs fixing.”

Agustín, who is still wincing a little from a rapidly-recovered broken leg and thus a tad distracted, does his best to focus on his wife’s expression through his glasses and rearranges his face accordingly. “You’re doing all you can, mi amor. And she’s not hurting anyone per se. I’m just a little worried that Luisa’s taking on too much for her. She keeps wanting to handle everyone’s problems on her own.”

“She doesn’t want to be a burden,” says his wife, and smiles softly. “She takes after her father that way.”

“And in no way could she ever be one. Just like her mother.”

“Get a room, you two!” calls a rather pregnant Pepa somewhat hypocritically as she walks past.

“We have one. It’s the kitchen.”

“Bleh.”

“If you’re not hungry, then by all means—”

“Is that arroz con pollo?”

“It might be.”

“Gimme.”)

44. Adicto

(nm) addict

When he's older, Juancho will shrug and grin and say, "Eh, with all the excitement going on around town, how else was I supposed to focus on everything at once?"

And Alejandra will nod in sympathy. "There was a jungle in a bedroom and miracles happening literally every day, focus is important."

"You two are a little obsessed, you know that?" Cecilia will say, rolling her eyes fondly.

"Oh, like you weren't right there with us all the way."

"And also like I haven't noticed you stealing my coffee."

"That is hearsay and slander and you can't prove anything."

The truth is a little more complicated than that.

Because although he is trying to focus, he's also, just a little bit, trying to understand the rush they must feel. Working miracles…that must be the greatest feeling in the world. He can never capture that himself, but a good cup of café helps him get close, surely? And he can give it up whenever he wants.

Juancho likes to think super-speed would have been a good gift.

(Heck, he's pretty sure he managed it once. It's a little blurry, though, wrapped around a song.)

45. Insistente

(adj) insistent

She answers to the name Diana. Her actual name is a lot more complicated than that. Her people, and her philosophical school, go in for deep cogitation and that includes long and subliminally-consequential names. But Diana is as good a collection of syllables as any.

Diana is not entirely sure why the Lady bears her on her back when she is more than capable of walking on her own. It’s a little frustrating sometimes, really. She occasionally protests vociferously and would maybe bite if she weren’t a grown adult with a reputation to uphold, but the Lady’s mind is filled with Focus and Strength and Pressure. Rather like a child. (For one of her kind, she probably is one.) She wants to be like them. She understands the Onus of Aptitude—the fundamental requirement of being steadfast in one’s duty, once one has deemed said duty worthy of one’s time. But she is surprisingly isolated, as though her work is the only thing important in life, and not the choice thereof. (Diana’s thesis on the Didacticism of Informed Obligation in the Context of Recompense versus Castigation was very well received.)

Diana tries to communicate, as do her colleagues (her coworker who answers to Abram has for some time now been trying to interest her in the Metaphysics of Non-Agricultural Floral Classification, a highly stimulating and eminently practical area of research), but the Lady’s mind is as stubborn as theirs. Likely she could hear them if she just twitched a teeny tiny bit, but she won’t let herself be distracted. The poor creature is obviously suffering from a severe psychological imbalance caused by an excess of Hypertrophied Physio-Sensibility. The only known cure is patience.

Fortunately, patience is something that Donkeys have quite a lot of.

46. Culpa

(nf) guilt, remorse

“Who’s that?”

“Hmm?” Bruno’s eyes widen, and he grabs the portrait. “Uhhh, nobody. Just someone I used to know.”

“Oh,” says four-year-old Mirabel. “A friend?”

“...yeah. Yeah, you could say that.”

There was one person beyond the family who didn’t assume the worst of Bruno Madrigal’s prophecies, not too long ago.

And the fact that they didn’t is a large part of why he does.

47. Desgraciado

(nm) wretch, unfortunate person

The one time Agustín’s cousin Claudio comes to visit, it’s...well.

“How in the heck did he set a house on fire with a feather?” complains Pepa.

“En seriamente, Agustín,” says Abuela, genuinely shocked. “How did your cousin get even worse luck than you?”

Agustín snorts. “Didi? He didn’t. He just got the family curse and decided not to do anything about it. Just go with the flow. Or, you know, drown in it.”

“I’m right here, primito.”

“What curse?” asks a seven-year-old Isabela curiously. “Your old familia had magic too?”

Agustín smiles at his daughter. “Ah, it’s going to sound stupid, but...my family always believed there was some sort of curse on the male members of the Valderrama bloodline that was put on them by a witch back in Castile. A bad luck curse. You know, a ‘the first shall be tied to a cactus and the last shall be eaten by bees’ kind of curse. But don’t worry! It doesn’t pass down through the female line. You’re a Madrigal, mi flor. You’re safe.”

Isabela doesn’t look completely convinced. Nor, for that matter, does Abuela.

“Maybe it’ll just skip a generation,” suggests Claudio, who thanks to Julieta’s food is looking better than he has in years. “Or you’ll end up with a very accident-prone daughter.”

“Cállate, Didi.”

48. Culpable

(nm) culprit, culpable person

“But you heard,” he mumbles.

Dolores nods, eyes solemn.

(Maybe she’s alone. Maybe she isn’t.)

Julián Perez is not the only man—the only person—in San Ambrosio who would ultimately prefer to keep some things secret from others. But he can’t, just like they can’t. The only people who know may be himself and Dolores Eladia Castillo Madrigal, but her presence is a given.

And his actions may well not be forgiven.

And she’s protected by a mother who could blast you on sight, a brother who can shape-shift into monsters if he wants to, a cousin with super-strength and near-invulnerability, and a father who, to be fair, could break your nose with one swing. If she’s here, they almost certainly know where she is.

“...do we leave?” he asks. “Is that the price to pay?”

Dolores shakes her head. “I can’t decide that,” she says. “You should have come to us for help. You can try Padre Flores, or Abuela.” Her expression hardens. “But you know that I’ll know what you tell them. And you will return what you took.”

There are rumours that the missing Tío, Bruno Madrigal, never left at all—that he was murdered, and that his ghost still haunts the Casa Madrigal, speaking prophecies of the future.

Do Dolores’ eyes glint a little green in the light?

Julián nods. It’s the safest bet.

There are no governors or mayors or police in San Ambrosio. No political armies or criminal gangs.

Even if they could find their way into the encanto, they wouldn’t dare intrude on the Madrigals’ territory.

I think Ozma (Sra. Pezmuerto's first name) and Bruno bonded over a shared love of animals. She was the first person to genuinely love his rats as opposed to tolerating them, and they were probably the kids who went out in the rain to move worms off the road and try to catch toads from ponds. Ozma's family was a lot more forgiving with animals than Alma was so she would often keep the animals they gathered in her room. They watched many caterpillars grow into butterflies from within jars and would always release the animals they caught after a few days.

When they got older, they were both theatre kids and had shared a love of drama, Bruno preferred to work behind the scenes while she would rather be one of the actors.

Their favourite story from when they were together was the time they released an entire jar of flying beetles during class to get out of a test. They had found a nest during lunch break and had planned on bringing them home until the teacher handed out the test they forgot about and Ozma quickly came up with a better use for them.

I hope I'm not bothering you with this fjhdhfhjgjf

Is her name Ozma?? I know Señora Ozma in the film was the lady who asked Luisa to reroute the river but supposedly they were both voice acted by Sarah-Nicole Robles so maybe that’s where the confusion lies? Idk.

Anyways this is really cute but also makes it all the more sad that she went on to contribute to all the bad rumors about him :(

She does have dramatic theatre kid energy though, her one fucking line in WDTAB? Whenever I sing it, “DEAD” is just the prime choice to exaggerate as much as possible.

Also, I’m imaging they released those beetles, and it worked TOO good, because they only anticipated causing chapels by having the bugs fly around. What they weren’t anticipating was Pepa SCREAMING and releasing a storm inside the classroom.

Y’all who wants more Bruno x Señora Ozma imagines?

Rebellious Teen Madrigals! Get your Rebellious Teen Madrigals, here!

This is a prequel to my first ever fic, Simplicity, which might still be my favourite. For fifteen years, the three Madrigal kids have had a very particular image. Perfect, obedient, useful, upstanding. But that's not the entire truth, as their Mamá is about to discover.

Bruno was gonna ruin everything.

              He was gripping his left arm with his right, and his shoulders were bunched up tight against his ears. Both sure signs he was nervous. Julieta elbowed him in the ribs. “Stoppit,” she hissed.               “Stop. It,” he hissed back, overdramatically popping the ‘p’ and the ‘t’. Mamá was always telling Julieta to enunciate more. And she did. For the most part.               In response, she thwacked her brother on the arm. Bruno kicked her in the back of the leg. Not hard – never hard – but they both knew how this went. And a slap fight just outside of Mamá’s room would be just as bad as…well, what they did last month. Which Mamá was still to find out about.               Pepa forced her way between the pair, gripping their wrists to stop them lunging for each other. “You two need to pipe down,” she whispered, “or I’m gonna start thundering. I hate when you make me the responsible one.”               The three Madrigal children stood together, listening in at Mamá’s door, waiting for their cue.               “Yes, Señora Pezmuerto; I’m sure while you’re here the children would love to show you their gifts in more detail. Anything you need from us, the Madrigals are happy to provide…yes, they turned fifteen this year, I can’t believe it either…”               “Did she bring her weird daughter?” Pepa asked. Bruno shuddered.               “Yep. Fish Girl.”               “Be nice,” Julieta said. “You’re one to talk anyway, Vision Boy.”               “Oven Girl.”               “Rodent Breath.”               “Senorita Perfecta –”               “Oh, come on Brunito,” Pepa said, draping herself over her brother’s shoulders. “You know Ozma liiiiikes you. ‘Oh, Bruno; come see my prize-winning fish…’”               “H-how does a fish win a prize anyway?” Bruno asked, shrugging his sister off him. “Y’know, I think there’s such a thing as being too obsessed with your pets.”               Julieta and Pepa shared a long look over Bruno’s head. Just last week they’d had to usher him back upstairs after he drowsily came to breakfast with at least one rat peeking out of his bedhair.               “Ah, yes,” Mamá was saying. “You’ve noticed my photo collection. I like to document the children’s milestones; yes, that’s Brunito handing out his very first vision tablet…”               “I-I was five, Mamá!” Bruno groaned softly, pulling his ruana hood over his eyes.               “And there’s Pepa conjuring a rainbow for Mother’s Day last year…it was a little faint, compared to her usual work, but still beautiful…”               A tiny, growling thundercloud appeared over Pepa’s head.               “And here’s my Juileta feeding the town on…o-on…”               The triplets shared a panicked, delighted look. Finally, it had happened. Right above the photograph of Julieta feeding the Encanto last Easter – smiling with her huge table of treats inside the church, Señor Flores’ hand on her shoulder – was one of the pictures from the time last month when they stole Mamá’s camera for the afternoon. Specifically, the photo of the three of them squashed together, making faces into the lens. Bruno was pulling down the skin under his eyes. Pepa was sticking her tongue out as far as it went. And Julieta was smushing her cheeks together, eyes crossed. They looked ridiculous. They looked stupid. They did not look like Madrigals.               “Children? Come in here, please?” Mamá, said, her voice cold, deliberate and utterly furious. “Now.”               Bruno, Julieta and Pepa Madrigal looked at one another, nodded once, and ran.               “Whose idea was it to put a photo in her bedroom?!” Julieta shrieked as they ran, legs windmilling underneath them, down the hill into town.               “YOURS!” Bruno and Pepa roared back. Bruno, always the quickest of the three, stuck his arm out behind him for Julieta to catch.               “We’re in so much trouble,” he panted. Julieta leapt forward and grabbed his hand.               “Not if she doesn’t catch us!”               “Yeah! You’re right! We’re running away, Encanto!” Bruno yelled, waving at the townsfolk who gawped at them as they raced past. “You’ll never see us again! Fare thee well!”                Pepa just grinned, snatching up her sister’s hand as the Madrigal triplets tore into the jungle, whooping and hollering like demons. Right then – and for the two hours they sat in a tree, dirty and shivering and hysterical – nothing else mattered. It didn’t matter how much Mamá would yell, how long they’d be grounded for, how many times they’d have to apologise to her, to Señora Pezmuerto, to her daugher, to the town as a whole. They had each other. And that was all they needed. All they’d ever need.

Since you said Mariano was still engaged to Isabela in the Green Dolores au, I can't help but wonder how that looked from an outside perspective, like Mariano sometimes being caught coming out the jungle, and then just one day just straight up disappearing. And just imagining Alma and/or Isa finding out the man she picked for her to marry ended up running away to be with the "cursed" grandchild and had kids with her, is just hilarious to the petty part of me 😂 Like, oopsie, the "perfect" man you picked out for your "perfect" grandchild actually didn't want her at all and instead ran away to be with the "cursed" grandchild you put down, outcasted, and were glad was gone, guess that plans down the drain 😂

Exactly!

Some townspeople noticed Mariano near the jungle sometimes, and often wondered what he had done or why he was near that area.

But one day, the lad just disappeared.

Alma and Isa (and Pepa for good measure) were quite confused where Mariano had gone. They didn’t see him anymore in town.

Señora Guzmán also wondered where her nieto was, but then she disappeared as well. What was going on?

Isa and Alma freaked out. No! Where did Mariano go? Was the engagement over?

Isa secretly hoped for the last question to be a yes…

But Alma insisted on the engagement and future marriage. And decided that, if Mariano showed up in town again, he and Isa were to be immediately wedded.

It took 5 years for him to show up again, but not alone…

He apparently had a woman and two children. But that woman wasn’t just anybody, it was Dolores…

Alma and Pepa were furious…

“You puta!” Pepa yelled, thundering all over the place, enraged at her favorite niece’s engagement being ruined. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?!”

Alma however, kept her word.

“Since you two aren’t officially married, Mariano is going to marry Isabela.” Alma said sternly, as if her word was law,, glaring at Dolores. “You and your bastards can go.”

Seeing the love of his life get upset at those words, Mariano wanted to tell that old woman off, but he could do that later, as something happened.

The townspeople protested against the matriarch…

“No!”

“Let him marry the jungle lady!”

“They have children! Let them be wed!”

Mira and Antonio agreed as well.

Even the animals supported this! Of course they would!

Wether Alma caved in or went through with Isa’s marriage was the question…

Unfortunately, Bruno and Ozma were still in the walls, so they didn’t see their daughter or their son-in-law or nietos…

Decay AU |  Lest the rot Lingers P2 (rewritten)

There was a lot in life that Abuela had come to expect and what to allow for in her household and with magic and gifts, it was imperative for maturity and control to be a huge factor to get through each day. Abuela was well aware that some gifts, like Luisa’s, could be devastating if the girl was to ever slip up. Like how Pepa could easily uproot or flash flood crops if she got too upset…

Accidents happened and while that was displeasing, there was no intent to harm and things could be fixed and everyone moved on and a lesson learned.

The stickiness along her hands, the red that stained them and the sight of Mirabel wrapped up then next on the floor terrified her more than she ever expected; a fear she hadn’t felt in a long time. Abuela felt a deep fury to see the thorns and puncture marks around her arm; tracing a swirled pattern of the binding that had held her and there was no doubt more across her body; the red that had been growing on the white easily showed that.

But Julieta was caring to her daughter and Abuela was relieved to see the punctures fade away before Mirabel threw herself into her mother’s chest and began to weep. Abuela nodded Luisa to follow her from the nursery and let the two alone; she’d ask Mirabel later on what happened

“Is there anything I can do?” Luisa asked gruffly, her eyes wide and entirely shaken to what had just occurred.

Abuela’s lips pursed but the answer was easy. “Stay outside Isabela’s room and keep her in until I’m ready to talk to her.”

Luisa nodded swiftly and went to stand ready at the door before Abuela turned and headed off towards the bathroom.

The girl was smart enough to run to her room but she knew it was most likely out of cowardice than to face her head-on for her actions. The girl knew she had done something completely unacceptable. It left a bitterness in her stomach at the thought of anyone, especially Isabela of all, to use her gift to restrain someone, not only someone but her own sister. One that was Giftless and vulnerable; no defence and from the looks of it, it had been purposeful.

It wasn’t just restraint; the grip the plants had must have been massive to render anyone unable to breathe in, the thorns looked to be salt in the wounds. Mirabel could have suffered broken ribs and far worse—much worse than Abuela wanted to think. But at least Julieta was tending to her now, it’d take more than Arepa to fully help and that was only the physical side- Julieta needed to see the wounds to know what to heal.

The cool water of the sink was pleasing but the red that came off turned her stomach but she kept washing until her hands were cleaned raw and the smell of copper no longer overwhelmed her but her skin tingled as she dried them and went to collect a bowl of water and a cloth for Julieta and deposited them quickly before the rest of the family seemed to return.

“What happened?” Agustín asked first, his face serious with concern as he looked towards the nursery. “Dolores said Mirabel got hurt?”

“Julieta is seeing to her now.” Abuela spoke firmly, “Isabela’s work. For now she’s confined to her room.”

“What?” Agustín looked startled at the news but didn’t wait before he turned and dashed up towards the steps, disappearing into the Nursery a few seconds later.

“Mama?” Pepa frowned, her cloud thundering above her head and for the first time in a while, Abuela didn’t remark on it, “what happened?”

“Isabela attacked Mirabel. I didn’t catch the entire argument but for now we need to gather everyone together once we’ve got things settled. Felix, Camilo, I need you two to go to the centre and talk to Señora Ozma and Señor Flores and inform them that an incident has occurred at the Las Casa Madrigal and we’ll be unavailable for community service for an undetermined amount of time until the matter is resolved. This is a private matter, so don’t let slip.”

She fixed her nieto with a firm look because this was the last thing she wanted to get out; a Madrigal attacking another with their gift would look bad on the family. Ozma certainly had connections to get the word out and reorganise in their absence with Flores’s support until she could think on Encanto’s needs

“Si, Abuela.” Both father and Son headed off with a swift nod.

“Pepa, go and see if you can find any of Mirabel’s clothes from the laundry room and any strain removers.”

“Strain removers?”

“There’s blood.” Abuela winced, watching how Pepa’s eyes widened then turned into a concerned frown and her cloud darkened even more, “Mirabel loves that shirt.” It was in most part to keep Pepa busy and to feel helpful but Mirabel’s clothes had been personalised; people would pick up notice if her outfit changed and… it may be a shame if Mirabel lost her hard work; the girl wore her clothes with pride.

“I’ll see to it.” Pepa hurried off but she picked up a wandering Antonio and took him with her.

“Dolores,” Abuela then addressed, “What’s Isabela doing now?”

“Freaking out…crying. She’s….terrified.”

Abuela’s lips pursed, “If she’s at risk to herself or attempts to leave through her windows or trying to get past Luisa then let me know immediately.” She didn’t want any more shame to be brought to the family if Isabela thought running away would be productive. “No one else is to go there before me, okay?”

“Si Abuela.”

Abuela nodded and departed towards her room; she needed to take a moment to think and properly compose herself before she’d risk going to talk to her eldest nieta. Not for the risk Isabela posed but Abuela knew she needed to be clear-headed herself to properly get to the bottom of such disgusting actions.

-

Julieta stroked her youngest back once her daughter was settled into clean clothes; her blood boiling into a simmering fury as she healed up the bruises that had entwined around her daughter’s ribs and the punctures under there too. Wiped the blood away so only now the bowl her mother had brought was tinted red.

She could feel how Mirabel’s breath as still ragged and how her heart seemed to beat so fast against her chest…the light tremors as she clung to her as she used to do when she was so little. Mirabel was terrified and Julieta was helpless to help calm her down beyond what she could do now. Agustín knocked to come in again and so Casita let him in for her. She said nothing; not that she didn’t want to but she didn’t trust her words to be anything useful. Nothing she wanted Mirabel to hear.

Julieta kissed Mirabel’s temple. Running her finger through her sweat-damp hair, though let her cry it out because it meant she was breathing….

“Rest of the family’s back now. Ozma and Flores are taking directives while Abuela’s here.” Agustín spoke, passing information only. “Only life-death emergencies will come to the door. Doctor Lopez has opened his house for anything else.”

Julieta nodded but she felt some relief in the back of her mind. Her attention had to be here; on Mirabel. She couldn’t cater to the town like this. She needed to make sure Mirabel would recover and with her head clear to do so. Not to mention… she’d have to address Isabela’s actions sooner or later when she felt ready to do so.

What could have transpired for Isabela to do this? Let alone to her own sister. It was so out of the blue as well. She had been doing well…excited even for the idea of moving on in her life. Sure, they were months away from a proposal but…that shouldn’t have had any effect on Isa’s nerves this soon.

-

Slowly, Mirabel slowly calmed down but Julieta didn’t let her go though it seemed Mirabel seemed ready to wiggle around to sit up properly, looking miserable and pale but calm.

“Are you in any pain?” Julieta asked, her hands coming to cup her daughter’s face.

Mirabel shook her head. “I’ll be fine, Mama.” Her voice was quiet her hands coming to take a hold of hers, squeezing softly.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Agustín asked carefully. “What…what happened is not okay and we need to know what caused this.”

Mirabel looked uncertain before she looked down at herself in her new shirt and full blue skirt before she frowned in confusion. “Why…why did you change me?”

“Well…” Julieta felt more concerned; if Mirabel didn’t remember then that possibly opened up another area of concern. The stress of course would, or running on adrenaline may have been a factor; to simply not notice in the following moments. “There was blood. The…vines that had you had thorns on… Your Tia’s doing her best to clean the stains out before they set.” She hadn’t heard of an update on that so she was assuming it was sorted or still soaking.

Mirabel inhaled deeply, her hand dropping to rub her eyes. “What…what’s happened with Isabela?”

“She’s in her room for now. Luisa’s making sure she stays until Abuela’s spoken to her. Right now, the only family knows what’s happened. We’re keeping this from the town for the time being.” Agustín spoke. “Abuela will…most likely want to see you first.”

Mirabel nodded softly. “Okay,” her shoulders slumped. “I…I need a nap.”

“Of course. I can stay if you want?”

“No… I’ll be fine, Mama.” She managed a weak smile and although Julieta could see through it, she decided to respect her daughter’s wishes given what she had been through; probably needed the alone time to process it privately.

“Call out if you need anything.” Julieta lent forwards and kissed her affectionately on the cheek before she rose off the bedside and Agustín’s hands tugged her away but ultimately, Julieta found herself back into the kitchen.

Agustín remained quiet, setting against the counter with a serious expression, his arms folded and he looked far more troubled than she had ever seen on his face. But that didn’t stop her as she began to prep food early to sooth her nerves but… the silence between them didn’t help the tension; the matter that now plagued their whole Casita.

Isabela.

How long it had been, Julieta hadn’t kept track but right now, it mattered little. She was still fuming. She wanted to go up there and demand an answer… this was not acceptable. How could she just do that?

“Juli…” Agustín’s hands came to her back before he took the knife from her hand. “You don’t need to cook…”

Julieta swallowed thickly, even as her eyes prickled with wet heat. “I…I have to get the next meal prepped.”

“You don’t…it’s too early.” He pulled her around, arms slipping around her middle. “Let’s….go to our room. You can cook later if you want but…I think you need some time to process as well.”

Julieta didn’t have it in her to fight him on this, even as he pulled her back up the steps, though she spared a look to Isabela’s door, her heart pulling to see Luisa sitting there in front with an expression showing she was deep in thought and looking upset.

“I’ll talk to her in a minute. Go inside.” Agustín encouraged her onwards to her door.

“Okay.”

For anyone confused; I’ve done a rewrite to line up with my fanfic until this and the fanfic depart with divergences; it starts the same so I hope you enjoy the repost. Next one, we can really delve into Decay’s POV much more and get more in the feels!!

Zapatillas Golden Goose Rebajas Arquímedes ¿Cómo obtener ganancias?

El concepto de flash por lo tanto, es probablemente verter una comisión de los ingresos propios directamente sobre los activos con respecto a generar ingresos constantes. Algún tipo de objetivos que se reciben y que en su mayoría son más altos que tus gastos generales y que alguien se encuentre en una situación financiera gratuita. Lo aliento para que recuerde que mi 'inversión en bienes raíces' podría tener más o menos oportunidad de encontrar el momento perfecto ''. Cuando esté preparado, las ventanas de vidrio y estas oportunidades le brindarán una buena ventaja con respecto a la riqueza, el hecho de que puede estallar en el futuro en alguna búsqueda sobre la redención financiera y la quiebra que se observa, la batalla de ratas. Al detenerse, lo aliento a que realice una investigación adicional; también suena expectante con diligencia dentro de los grupos de inversionistas; no tienen que estar de manera positiva solo en el patio anterior, de lo contrario, incluso utilizando la ciudad mencionada. Estos días con todo el mundo de Internet, el teléfono móvil y las moras, así que lo que no vamos a hacer puede ser conectado a las veinticuatro horas del día. A menos que esté preparado para mantener el éxito en los entrantes, entonces cualquier oportunidad en cualquier lugar le dará algo de dinero. En mi trabajo actual, principalmente porque soy un Vast Marketer, ya que me acerco a un número tremendo en lo que respecta a las personas que pueden estar presentes para un buen ciclo fácil. ¡Probablemente están buscando poder obtener artículos por casi nada! O estos productos tienen la intención de que otros elijan sus trabajos para estos artículos. Aunque me encanta para que muestre lo que es una forma adicional de hacer para finalmente hacer riqueza financiera en línea. Nuestro trabajo nunca funcionará como el trabajo para muchos de ellos. Mi familia y yo terminaríamos siendo una injusticia para la compañía si lo hiciera. El reloj se ha ido para los compradores de paneles. Firmemente capacitados, todos los empleados podrían estar buscando en la red la mejor oferta de trabajo para poder Golden Goose Super Star Hombre Madrid umentar sus pagos a sus preciosos empleadores actuales. Durante la función de entrevista más importante, haga su propia perseverancia para evitar esta cantidad de pérdidas de tiempo. Cinderella.Red no siempre tiene muchas ganas de ser una princesa, así que, ¿cómo te sentará en la fiesta de la reina de Sleeping Peaceful Beauty? ¡Tremendo por qué y además su excelente salto mágico en tu libro para hacer con Cenicienta quien tiene una verdadera fiesta para ella a la que hay que llegar! cuando llega la hora de la medianoche, Red experimenta que ella no le pide ayuda a un hada madrina para que toque algo grandioso como quién es esa señora. Obtener estudiantes y descubrir tácticas de negocios. La pasión también el deseo sobre sí mismo no te va a superar. Es posible que solo sea su pequeño más inteligente en un bloque específico, por lo general tiene lo mejor del mundo, pero si su empresa no tiene básicamente habilidades comerciales, se lo olvidará. Mientras tanto, en la Ciudad verde esmeralda, surgió un mensaje completo con unas zapatillas doradas de plumas de ganso, garabateando en cada uno de nuestros pavimentos alrededor del jardín. Ozma, pero también sus cortesanos miraron desde el término. Detener, sin lugar a dudas, la tiranía asociada a las reparaciones de los grandes federales, las guerras de imitación o las falsedades. El artículo fue en lugar de lo que nuestra libertad a favor de los padres fundadores tenía en mente. Tenga Zapatillas Golden Goose Rebajas uidado con los políticos globalizadores, por ejemplo Rick Perry de Oregon, que complementó el internacionalismo junto con una 'Unión Norteamericana' en el pasado, que tal vez sea controlado por su elite de la energía eléctrica financiera.