#always ready for magic miracles and blessings

[crystaldivinee]

Happy new year! Wishing for a happy, beautiful, lucky, fun, wonderful, prosperous, abundant and successful year ahead. Hoping that we’re going to achieve our desired dreams and goals. May everything that we wish for come true. We deserve good things so let’s just look forward and keep going!

Stay healthy, safe, bright and blessed <3

🎉🧧🎊🥳💼 📈 💸💵💰💳🤑🍀🤞🏻🧿🛍️🔮✨💅🏻🦋🍾💫💕💎🫶🏻🧚🏻‍♀️🌟🌠❤️🪄🦄

[purple-writer8]

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart - ACOTAR

Eris x Rhysand’s Sister (Reader)

“I cry a lot but I am so productive. It’s an art.”

warnings: toxic man implied, abused eris, emotionally unavailable eris, depressed reader, broken up mates, angst

968 words

Masterlist :)

"Yes, I went to Day and reported the findings to Helion. Then to Thesan." You reported to your High Lord and Lady. Rhysand looked more than pleased, and Feyre could only gape at you in awe. 

"You did all that in a day?" She asked in shock, admiration gleaming in her eyes for you. You nodded, a tired smile adorning your face, "and the ball is all set for tonight." 

Feyre gaped along with her mate, they could hardly believe it. "You are a blessing, a real fucking blessing. Thank you, so much... you will get more than a hefty bonus in your next payment." Rhysand grinned, dark talons caressing your mind in a soothing way. 

You rolled your eyes at your brother, then asked, "why do you two always act like I'm some kind of miracle fae?" 

They glanced at each other, then back at you, and then pity overtook both their stares. You know why. You were supposed to be heartbroken, as you had just ended your betrothal to Eris Vanserra. The two of you were mates, but the abuse he had suffered from his father and the toxic familiar dynamics he had grown up in, made him less than emotionally unavailable. 

He was unable to communicate what he felt, all he could do was share his feelings through your bond. But that was not enough, not when he had commitment issues and acted like an ass to your family. The bond was strong, but your self-respect was stronger.  Especially when you knew what you were worth, being the Night Court's High Lord's sister and Princess of Velaris. 

"What happened with Eris... at the last ball... it was bad..." Feyre trailed, not wanting to exactly mention what had happened. It was fucking painful for you, you had broken your engagement in front of everyone. "And I saw you crying last night... and this morning before your mission..." she added. 

"I cry a lot, but I am still very productive. I can do my work with a broken heart." You replied with a simple shrug, much to Rhysand's dismay. You had always been like that, had always hidden your feelings and done your work even when you were breaking down.

“You’re a real tough kid.” He said softly, violet eyes eyeing you closely, “you complete all your missions seamlessly. You are an example to follow.” 

You chuckled dryly, “yeah, yeah, I am the best. Can I go get ready for tonight? I got the most beautiful dress and I want to try it on.” With that, the couple simply nodded and excused you. 

They were right to be impressed. You wanted to die, and yet— you were ready to shine that night, like every other night. 

Ready to show everyone lies. 

-

The ball in the House of Wind went off without a problem, and like every other night-- you were the center of attention. The gown you wore was magnificent, the light reflected off you in a majestic manner, almost as if you wore liquid starlight in your frame. You stood at the side of the bar with Azriel, watching as everyone arrived, sipping on a tall glass of champagne. You knew Eris was coming, you needed to drink before seeing him. 

"You look pretty," the shadowsinger said in a stoic manner, hazel eyes traveling up and down your frame swiftly. You smirked into your glass, "as do you." 

"Have you spoken to him?" He asked, and you knew he referred to Eris. Azriel cared, and he showed it, having known you since the moment you had been born-- he was protective of you. Especially because he loathed Eris with all his being. 

"Please, he avoids me like I am faebane," you snorted, the alcohol working its magic on you already. And you were grateful for it, because you almost choked when your eyes met the red - haired male that had once promised he would love you for his whole life. What a short life. 

You felt Azriel's eyes on you, his shadows coiling around your ankles in support as you watched Eris strut into the ball as if he owned it. He commanded the room, but that was normal. He was a magnetic force of a male. You looked at Azriel, seeking shelter in his hazel eyes-- the mating bond was tugging you to Eris, his presence was like a fire roaring inside your heart. 

You were about to break down, so you hit the dance floor. Dragging your sister-in-law from her seat next to your brother, you danced and danced. Feyre and you were always a force to be reckoned with when you partied together, and that night was no exception. You both were grinning as you danced, twirling about the Hall as if you were made of starlight. 

The crowd of fae chanted and cheered for you, and you could feel the pieces of your heart shattering on the floor. It was always like that. You were miserable, and no one even knew. You laughed as you danced with Feyre, as if you couldn't feel your mate's heartbreak from across the room. "Eris looks like he wants to die," Feyre whispered as if she could read your mind. 

"Yeah, but if I try to talk to him, he avoids me like I have fae plague," you snickered, your eyes finding the heir of Autumn. As soon as your eyes found his, they were looking away from you, as if he hadn't been watching you dance. You wanted to die, but instead you twirled and grinned as if you were having the time of your life. 

"Then let me talk to him," the High Lady offered, and you stopped your dancing, giving her a stern look. 

"I can handle my shit, Feyre." 

-

Author’s note:

This will probably have a part two because i love eris and i want him to be happy. Also ttpd has me in my feels soooooo probs a lot of angst coming ehfuhihoiqhioghhrueiuifio3iij4rijj

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @sheblogs

[tabitha42]

The Wizard's Apprentice - Chapter 1

Saffron is just a lowly apprentice with barely a successful firebolt to her name. So what chance does she have with the arch mage she's slowly falling in love with?

Gale x Tav, slow burn, eventual smut

Next chapter

Coughing and spluttering, she now knelt in the sand, gulping in the blessed fresh air. By some miracle she was mostly unharmed, other than a bit singed and achy. But as her eyes finally focused on the area around her, she felt her heart sink as it became clear that no one else had had the same fortune as her. 

Bodies scattered the beach - some mind flayer abductees, others fishermen unlucky enough to be caught in the crash. Instinctively she ran to the closest to try to help them, but they were long beyond saving. A horrified whimper escaped her lips as she covered her mouth in shock - she’d never seen anything like this. Though maybe they were all the lucky ones… she knew what fate awaited her from this parasite if she didn’t find a way to be rid of it. For now she decided not to think about it; there were much more immediate threats to worry about.

She pushed on, hoping to find any survivors, or maybe signs of a settlement. The stink of smoke clung to her singed wizard robes, the once vibrant magenta fabric now dulled by dust and smog. The two plaits she always wore her long auburn hair in were frayed and starting to unravel, and with every step she felt like she herself was starting to unravel too. The pain, the fear… even as the wreckage of the Nautiloid disappeared into the distance behind her til only the smoke billowing into the sky could be seen, she still felt the ever-present tingle of what it left inside her. 

Deep in the forest she started to fear what she might come across. She wouldn’t last long out here on her own - she knew a few basic self-defence spells, but nothing particularly powerful, and the only time she’d ever had to use them in earnest she barely escaped with her life. She feared her odds of survival were low if she didn’t find a friendly face soon, but hadn’t expected her salvation to come in the form of a malfunctioning portal. Curious and rather surprised to see such magic here, she walked up to the sparking purple light, keeping her distance at first. She knew better than to mess with unstable magic, but like any good wizard, she never had been good at heeding such warnings. Slowly, carefully, she reached out to it, ready to jump back should it prove dangerous… Again the portal surprised her, this time with the appearance of a hand. 

“Hello?” A voice called out. “A hand? Anyone?” “Gods!” she gasped, stumbling back slightly, before quickly moving close again. “What are you doing in there? Are you ok??” “I will be if you can help me out of here!” Came the reply. “Oh yes, of course!” She called back, feeling a bit stupid for having asked him questions rather than just pulling him out in the first place. She grabbed his hand and began to pull, though whatever held him in there was clearly determined not to let him go. “Arg! Gonna need more than that!” he called through again, sounding a little bit pained after having his arm pulled on so hard. “Ok, um, just wait a moment!” 

She grabbed his hand once more and pulled. Again the portal seemed to resist, but this time she could feel it relenting, and finally with one last burst of strength she pulled him through and the two of them crashed to the ground. She wasn’t quite sure what she’d been expecting of him, but she hadn’t been expecting him to be quite so hot. 

They both stood up and she glanced over as he brushed himself down and swept his long hair back. “Hello! I’m Gale of Waterdeep,” he said, shaking her hand. “Apologies, I’m usually better at this.” “I’m… Saffron,” she said, finding herself momentarily a bit speechless. “Are you ok? How did you get stuck in there?” “Ah, now that’s a long story,” he said with a slight chuckle. “Though, it’s a story I think you know the beginning of. You were on the Nautiloid as well, weren’t you?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “Yes! Were you on it too? Taken from Baldur’s Gate?” “Not Baldur’s Gate, but yes, I was taken. Seems that ship jumped around quite a bit before finding its final resting place here. I was in one of the pods over from you, which I assume means you also found yourself on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region?” he asked, gesturing to his eye. She couldn’t help but let out a slightly exasperated chuckle at his description of the ordeal. “That is… one way of describing it, yes. Another way might be… doomed…” she murmured with a defeated sigh.

“You know what awaits us then if we don’t deal with them,” he said, sounding surprisingly unworried about the whole situation, which gave her hope. “You know how to deal with them?” she asked, but her hopes were dashed once more when he shook his head. “I was going to ask you the same question. It seems we’re in need of a healer, and soon too. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more and look for a healer together?” The smile that spread across her face surely would tell him all he needed to know about what her answer would be. “Yes! Ahem, I mean… sure,” she said, not wanting to sound too eager. Luckily, despite her complete inability to cover up how happy she was not to be facing this alone anymore, he only chuckled. “Most excellent! A parasite shared is a parasite halved… or something to that effect,” he said, second guessing his own joke as he was halfway through saying it. It did exactly its job though, and she found herself genuinely laughing for the first time since this whole ordeal had started. 

“Oh, but before you think you are about to embark on this journey with most ill-mannered a man: thank you, for pulling me out of that hole. It was an act of foresighted kindness I assure you, for I have the feeling ample opportunities will present themselves for me to return the favour.” 

She smiled as he spoke, happy that not only was she not in this on her own, but she was with someone who was so polite. 

“Well aren’t you a gentleman,” she said playfully. 

“I do try to be,” he replied with the slightest bow. “Now, do you know which way to the nearest settlement?” he asked, looking both ways down the path. “No… but the wreckage of the Nautiloid is back that way, so I would suggest we go the other direction,” she said, nodding down the path in the direction she’d been heading in. “Sounds like a plan,” he agreed, and soon the two of them were off. “Oh! You never told me,” she said, looking over at him as he looked back at her. “How did you get stuck in that portal?” 

“Ah, yes! Well, I don’t know what happened exactly, but the ship broke into pieces and I suddenly found myself in freefall. As I was plummeting to certain death I spied a glimmer quite near where I estimated my body to impact with less-than-savoury propulsion. Recognising this glimmer to be magical in nature, I reached out to it with a Weaving of words and found myself on the other side, as it were,” he explained, prompting a slight gasp of surprise from Saffron. 

“You managed to cast a spell like that while falling??” she asked. She was pretty sure even if she was safe at home at a desk with a pile of relevant books in front of her she wouldn’t be able to come up with such a spell on the spot. “Yes I did,” he said with a grin, looking a little bit smug about it. There was a pause. “...Why didn’t you just… cast feather fall?” She asked eventually. There was another pause. 

“Well… in moments like that we don’t always make the best decisions,” he said quickly, the smugness gone so immediately she couldn’t help but chuckle. He looked at her for a moment. “Is that how you survived the fall, then?”

“No. I was still stuck in the pod as the ship fell, then I woke up on the ground by the wreckage. I’m still not sure how I survived…” 

“Well, far be it from us to question miracles,” he said with a small shrug. “Am I right in thinking you’re a wizard too then, Saffron?” “Yes, you are,” she answered with a nod. “Would you consider yourself well-read?” She paused for a moment, contemplating both her answer and what his question might be about.

“I’ve… read a fair amount. Why do you ask?” “Hmm, tell me, how much do you know about Netherese magic?” “Only the basics,” she said with a small shrug. “Why?” “I have a matter I need to discuss with a master wizard. Do let me know if you come across one.” “A matter relating to Netherese magic?” she asked, raising an eyebrow slightly. 

“Yes. I… have something I’m working on back home. I’ve been seeking experts in the subject to help, but so far have found no one.” 

“What is it you’re working on?” 

“Oh, it’s not that interesting really. Not if you’re not already interested in the Netherese, anyway. What about you, though? I imagine you have some projects you’re working on.” A less naive person might have realised he was deflecting to change the subject off of himself, but she was not one of those people. 

“I do! Though they’ve been going pretty slow… I keep getting distracted with buying new books instead of working,” she admitted, to which Gale laughed heartily. 

“Ahh, I know that feeling all too well,” he said warmly. “What’re your projects?” “Well… my work revolves around druidic magic. I’ve been trying to learn to use magic as they do. Ultimately I want to learn to wild shape.” Gale’s eyebrows raised in curiosity. 

“You wish to master primal magic? Ambitious.” “Yeah… that’s what everyone says,” she murmured with a sigh. 

“It’s not going well, then?” 

Her silence told him all he needed to know. 

“Well, keep at it,” he encouraged her. “No great breakthrough ever came easily. I’d be curious to read your work, if you’d permit me to. Druidic magic is one of the few forms of magic I know little about.” 

“If we ever get to Baldur’s Gate you’re welcome to,” she said, looking up at him with a smile. Not many took an interest in her work like that. 

“Looking forward to it already,” he said genuinely. There was a warmth in his tone that filled her with joy. After a few moments, she spoke again. “You said, ‘one of the few forms of magic you know little about’. You’re pretty well-read yourself, then?” “Oh yes! I’ve been a natural at controlling the Weave since I was a child, and have spent my life studying magic. Back in Waterdeep I was the archmage for a while.” “Archmage…?? Gods…” she whispered, realising the status of who she was talking to. She went very quiet, suddenly afraid of embarrassing herself, which he seemed to notice. 

“Well, don’t place too much importance on that. I still got myself stuck in that portal,” he said with a laugh, managing to bring a smile to her lips too. “And your magic got me out. So don’t underestimate yourself.” She looked down slightly as she smiled to herself. “So, who are you other than archmage? What are you into other than magic?” She asked after a moment. “Hmm, let’s see… I have a library, a cat, and a fondness for a good glass of wine. And if the mood takes me, I’m known to try my hand at poetry.” “You have a cat??” she gasped, quickly focusing in on the most important part of what he said. 

“Heh, I do indeed. Her name is Tara,” he said fondly. “Will she be ok if you’re stuck out here? Is there someone else to feed her?” she asked in concern, though maybe there was another subconscious motivation for asking if there was anyone else in Gale’s life that might be able to feed his cat.

“Oh not to worry, she’s more than capable of looking after herself,” he assured her. “What about you? Any pets back home?” 

She found it a bit curious that he would have a cat so easily able to look after itself, but decided not to question it. “No… just an awful lot of plants, which definitely won’t survive without me there to water them,” she said with a sad sigh of realisation. “Ah… a pity,” he sympathised. “Mmm…” she murmured, her thoughts moving onto how they’d get back to the city. “How far do you think we are from Baldur’s Gate?” “I don’t know… I wondered the same about Waterdeep. I hope we can find a settlement soon and find out where we are. I also don’t fancy being stuck out here at night…” he pondered, looking up to the sky. It was early evening by now, and while Saffron felt much safer with him than she did on her own, the two of them were still in a lot of danger out here. “Me too…” she said softly, looking down the path as it led deeper into the forest. 

The walk was long, but with Gale the time had flown by. They’d spent the whole time talking, and she was amazed at how much he’d made her laugh despite the direness of their situation. She was very glad for his company, even if he could be a bit full of himself from time to time. She was especially glad for his company when they came upon a caravan plundered by goblins. The scene had left her paralysed at first to see such brutality, but he’d had the sense to look for supplies. She chose not to think too hard about what they were doing as they looted the dead bodies, though he saw her hesitation nonetheless. The dead have no use for these supplies anymore, he’d reasoned, better they aid us than we join the dead. She supposed he was right and went along with it. 

With backpacks now full with enough materials for a basic campsite the two decided it was time to stop for the day and find somewhere to set up camp. Gale suggested they find a spot down by the river - it would provide them with fresh water and a more defensible position should they come under attack. It was while wandering along the riverbank looking for a good spot that they came across another camp. “Careful, we don’t know if they’re friendly,” Gale advised, taking the lead as the two of them cautiously approached the small circle of tents. 

“Not another step.”

They froze and looked over to see the source of the voice. An elf, pale, white hair, almost invisible in the shadows of the trees, aiming an arrow towards them. “Wouldn’t want to get blood on those fancy robes of yours,” he playfully threatened, a small smile curling on his lips.“We mean no harm,” Gale said quickly, raising his hands. Saffron followed suit. “We’re just travellers, looking for somewhere to camp.” Hurried footsteps came from the tents and they looked over to see two others emerge - a woman, half-elf with long dark hair, and a second woman that Saffron almost didn’t recognise at first as a Githyanki. She walked forward towards them, an angry look on her face. “Who are these- argg!!” Pain ripped through Saffron’s skull. Suddenly visions flashed in front of her eyes - a dragon, a silver sword, a wolf, a dark mirror, an alleyway, her own face as seen from the other end of a bow… She gasped as she opened her eyes again and saw the others were also all clutching at their heads, wincing from pain. “Kaincha…” the Githyanki groaned before looking at them. “You both have parasites too?” “Indeed. You were all taken by the Nautiloid as well?” Gale asked. The three of them nodded. “Don’t suppose any of you have any ideas how to deal with these parasites?” “We must be purified,” the Gith said confidently. “We are seeking a creche. I believe there is one near here. Two of the horned ones said one of their kind had seen a Githyanki, we must find and question him. They are hidden somewhere nearby, though we have yet to find their settlement.” “Horned ones?” Gale questioned. “Teethlings.” “Tieflings,” the half-elf corrected with a roll of her eyes. “Fine, tieflings,” the Gith mumbled, clearly not happy about being corrected by her. “We will set out to find them tomorrow.” “Perhaps we could join you?” Gale offered. “The more pairs of eyes searching, the better.” The others looked at each other for a moment, considering. “I don’t see why not,” the half-elf decided, stepping forward. “I’m Shadowheart.” “Gale of Waterdeep,” he said as he shook her hand. “Saffron.” “Lae’zel.” “Astarion. And sorry about that,” he said, gesturing the bow he’d once threatened them with. “You know how it is. You can never be too careful these days.”

Somehow, something about the way he spoke told Saffron it was absolutely not about self-defence and he would have quite enjoyed using that bow on the two of them.

[donotpush]

Big and full

CW: feeding/stuffing kink, gaining (mention of weight gain), pregnancy, slightly NSFW-ish content but most of it just fluff :). 

Hi! This is a comission I did for a dear friend of mine (hi Vera c:) and she allowed me to publish here. As you can see, it's not my usual content (actually, it's something I'm not to familiar with lol) but I hope you can enjoy it!

Alissa stared at herself in the mirror, and the woman standing in front of her was a total stranger.

Her fingers brushed over the fabric of her shirt, caressing her bump before her fingers slowly started to undo the buttons one by one. 

She knew that her body, her whole self, would change. And she was almost ready to take it in as a blessing, a moment to appreciate changing and her new body as it came.

It was a miracle, after all; she was growing not one but two new lives inside her. It was something to be more than proud of, and of course, she had to put on some weight!

But as the months went by, and as her pregnancy went on, her wife’s cooking skills also gathered a new level of greatness. Leah became a wonderful cook.

Not only did she take care of the house, and being a stay-at-home mom-to-be, Leah found time to perfect her cooking skills.

It started with less takeout and more homemade food, and then the homemade food became elaborate fancy plates worthy of a restaurant. 

Oh, and dessert almost every night? It was almost as if Leah was doing it purposefully at this point.

That explained why the reflection she saw was completely different from the Alissa she knew six months ago. 

Her thighs had become soft and giggly, bigger than before and growing along with her stomach, not only huge because of the two lives growing inside but with an additional warm and soft thickness from eating way too much.

Her toned arms now hide under a layer of fat, strong as always but now gentle and squishy; she put weight on everywhere, she was heavy, and she learned to love that feeling of being full. 

Her breasts, now huge, engorged with milk, were full. And she loved it. Her stomach was full of life and full of delicious food. 

Being full, that's what she loved the most. 

Her hands found their way to her own back, crawling up her skin to unclasp her bra, freeing her aching chest for once. 

Her breasts hang low, heavy in front of her, just like her belly.

Sometimes it was hard to see such a different person, and it was a continuous battle of hating-loving the new Alissa. 

But the pleasure of feeling full always won. 

Her mouth started watering as she wondered what her wife was cooking. Hopefully, something sweet. The babies were craving it.

“God…” she mumbled to herself, turning to the side to examine her image in the mirror.

Her ass and belly, covered in freshly red stretch marks, had never been so huge. To Leah, it all was alluring, but Alissa was starting to doubt it.

Her train of thought was interrupted when a pair of hands gripped her hips gently, squeezing softly before they traveled further up to her breasts. Looking down, one hand started to knead her breasts, massaging the tender area softly as the other hand rubbed over the curve of her abdomen. 

She looked at the mirror again to watch as her wife worked her magic, her eyes falling shut as pleasure started spreading through her body.

"What?" Leah mumbled, staring at the half-naked reflection in the mirror "What's wrong?"

The redhead just shook her head, trying to smile and failing miserably. She took one last look at her reflection before fixing her eyes on her wife's. 

"I've put on too much weight lately, huh?" Alissa asked rhetorically. “Maybe I should quit all that stuff you make, babe. It's getting..." her hands moved to the underside of her belly, "...well…bigger."

Leah smiled shyly, nodding slightly, and her hands moved from Alissa's breasts down to her belly before cupping the bump lovingly. 

"Well, what did you expect with two healthy babies in here?"

Leah's tone told Alissa that she wasn't in for any kind of argument. 

"You know that's not what I mean," she insisted "I should start eating more healthily... that means no dessert."

Leah's hands slid off her belly, making her feel cold for a second, and she wrapped her arms around Alissa before pouting. 

"But...but... you're eating for three now!" she exclaimed, before taking a deep breath, "...and you're the hottest woman I know. Especially now. Like right now."

Alissa snorted in amusement, rolling her eyes. "You're unbelievable," she murmured, pulling her wife into a kiss, their closeness only interrupted by the redhead’s gravid belly between them. 

A small moan escaped her lips when Leah pressed her body against hers, and Alissa wasn’t sure if it was because her libido was doing unreal things lately, or because the sudden smell of black forest cake seeped inside the bedroom and invaded her nostrils.

“I’m serious, babe…” Alissa whined.

“I’m serious too! All this,” Leah interrupted, her hands softly gripping all over Alissa's body, her fingers playing with her stomach. "Is nothing but proof of how incredible you are. What a beautiful thing you've become!" The words were sweet, but the tone was full of desire. "And I love it, all of it" the last word seemed to float in space for a while. "All of it."

Alissa couldn't help but smile.

“So?” Leah mumbled, “You have no idea what a delicious dessert I made. You seriously gonna stand me up like that?”

Humming, Alissa stared at her wife through the mirror, before her eyes narrowed in thought. A small smile formed on her lips as she turned around, leaning in to press a buzzing kiss against Leah’s bare shoulder.

“I could divorce you for this” Leah breathed, enjoying the touch. “It’s a deal breaker for me, y’know?”

“Yeah?” the redhead chuckled, taking Leah’s hands in hers, moving them for her ass to rest on her belly. One of the babies kicked. “Alright, but only because your kids are demanding it.”

Leah jumped a bit in her place, pulling away from her wife with a grin. Alissa thought she could eat all the little silly cakes needed if that meant making Leah happy.

Leah rushed out of the door, and Alissa waddled towards her bed to grab the discarded shirt and pull it again, buttoning only the necessary buttons so it didn’t hang open. 

***

“M’lady," Leah pulled the chair back, allowing her wife to sit down before pressing a small kiss against her neck. “Good. Great. Glad to serve you tonight.”

The plate slid in front of her, and Alissa's mouth almost watered. 

Not only did it smell good, but it also looked amazing, and since her wife’s hands were magic, she couldn’t wait to taste it in her mouth.

She reached to grab a fork, but Leah’s hand won the race and got ahead, taking the fork first. With a questioning look, Alissa bit the tip of her tongue. 

“Allow me to…” Kneeling next to her, Leah took a piece of the cake “...here.”

“I’m not…a baby” crossing her arms over her gravid belly, Alissa raised an eyebrow, tilting her chin up and looking down at her wife. “Totally can eat it myself. Are you seriously gonna do this, hun?”

“I’m not babying you,” Leah argued softly, resting her chin against Alissa’s arm. “I just want to pamper my wife. Completely spoil you.”

Alissa hesitated for a single second before her stomach grumbled when the smell of whipped cream and chocolate started teasing her indignantly.

“Fine” the redhead nodded, her eyes following the fork full of cake in the air. “Alright.”

Leah giggled as she moved the fork in the air, taking it to Alissa's parted lips with annoying slowness for the redhead, and as soon as it touched her tongue, she let out a loud groan.

Leah’s eyebrow raised expectantly as she pulled away a bit, staring carefully at every expression that crossed her wife’s face. The redhead's eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed as she chewed, and Alissa tilted her head back slightly as she relished the food.

It was delicious.

“Li, baby,” the redhead moaned, opening her eyes to stare at Leah. “This is not great, it’s amazing. So good…!

The chocolate, the perfectly achieved texture of the cake, the whipped cream that now covered the corners of her lips, everything was a perfect combination and it tasted like heaven. This woman knew how to do these things.

Leah’s hand traveled to her belly, lifting her shirt a bit to caress the underside of it before they moved to rest on her soft thigh. With a reassuring squeeze, she leaned in to rest her ear against her wife’s huge stomach.

The twins moved inside, making the redhead groan and Leah chuckle. Alissa’s tummy grumbled, protesting for more, and Leah moved to put another piece of cake on the fork. 

Alissa took another bite, Leah’s hand rubbing softly all over her belly, sending Alissa into relaxation under the soothing touch.

Bite after bite, the huge piece of cake that Leah had set down on the pristine white plate was gone, leaving behind only a chocolate-covered mess. 

Alissa spread her legs wider, trying to accommodate her bloated belly a bit better; if it wasn’t hard enough, whenever she ate the already huge stomach that rested in front of her bloated even more. 

And she would be lying if she said that she didn’t find a certain guilty pleasure in the feeling of being so full; of her babies, of sweet, delicious food. 

That’s the part that made it so hard to put the fork down, every bite and flavor seemed to be the best she ever had, and being so full, so bloated, with a loving wife willing to give her all the belly rubs that she needed afterwards. It was hard.

Alissa tilted her head to face Leah, who was licking the rest of the cake from the fork, and raised her eyebrows as she bit her lip. “...still have a bit of room, y’know?”

“Huh? I thought you were trying to quit all this…” Smirking, Leah stood up, taking the plate with her.

The redhead watched as her wife put another piece of cake on the plate before bringing it to the table. Without another word, Leah was once again almost stuffing her face with cake. And Alissa had no complaints.

By the moment she finished the second round, Alissa’s face was flustered, messy and blushed. She felt like a kid as she licked her fingers clean, Leah’s thumb brushing over the corner of her lips to clean a whipped cream stain. 

With a sigh, Alissa looked down at her gravid belly, now resting heavy and full on her thighs between her open legs. She had to pull the chair back to get more room for her belly, but it felt so good to be so full.

When Leah’s hand started rubbing all over the tense, bloated orb, Alissa moaned and leaned her head back, her whole body relaxing as her stomach was pampered. 

She took a deep breath, and when she exhaled, pop. 

The lonely button that shamelessly tried to cover her belly popped, revealing her stomach and her engorged breasts.

“Hmh…” Alissa moaned, biting her lips as she pushed her hips forward, not caring about anything else but the feeling of her lover’s hand. 

Amazed, Leah stared in awe and lust at her wife. The babies moved under her touch, getting another moan from her mom’s lips, and Leah just could smirk thinking about her next recipe. 

“What a perfect view” Leah whispered against her skin, her hand massaging the hard belly. "And you know the best part?"

Alissa lifted her gaze, watching how her wife slowly lowered herself onto her knees and gently ran her fingers across the swollen stomach, and she knew the answer. The best part was that she had yet to get even bigger.

"We still have so much time to satisfy all your cravings" Leah hummed, her hand coming to rest on the curve of her stomach where the twins were kicking, their gazes locked together, both of them smirking at each other. "Get you big. Big and full, hun."

[gamerbearmira]

(Kind of inspired by a roleplay, I did once with a friend and The Rebirth of Miracle/De-aged Mirabel AU by another person here)

I introduce you to... de-aged triplets! :

It was yet another day in ever growing paradise Encanto. It was 18 years since the Miracle happened and the village was founded. It was ruled by a small, yet strong Madrigal family, that sometimes even seemed like a royal family, consisted of the current Miracle Candle holder, Alma Madrigal, and her three children, triplets, each blessed magical gifts of their own, Julieta, the oldest, a healer and beloved in community as a "golden child", Pepa, the middle, a weather girl and since childhood known as a bundle of sunshine, and Bruno, the baby of family, a seer and due that known as a "Bad luck Bruno" (even if none dared to call him this way, unless they wanted to have to deal with a furious Alma and equally furious Julieta and Pepa).

Currently, it was nighttime and the matriarch was sitting in her room, thinking over things. Even with a community to run, Alma made it clear her children were her number one priority. She loved them with whole her heart and wanted the best for them. And yet, she ran into so many people, who took her children's hard work for granted and none ever thought about them. They were given their powers at age of 5, and since then, they were cursed with burden of carrying them. Bad prophecies, hurricanes and greedy people, who took for themselves and left nothing for those, who needed those more... not the childhood Alma wanted for her children.

And she hated it. She hated the burden, her children were forced to hold on their shoulders for so long. It was their 18th birthday few weeks ago. Marking 13th year of the curse, they were given. Of course, the same Miracle was what gave them this beautiful place to call home and the tall mountains to protect them, but she always wanted it would've stopped there. She remembered how happy they were before the "blessings", they were real children. Happy and bright, eyes ready to see the world around them.

"I just want them to be happy. I just want them safe... is it so much to ask for..?" The woman whispered to herself, looking onto the candle on her window, before sighing.

The miracle candle watched her to best of it's ability. It saw the sufferings, this family has going through due it's poorly calculated decisions, but it knew there was nothing that could be done to undo it... there was no way the childhood experiences could be recreated, now that the triplets were older.

There was just no way...

Or was there?

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~In the morning~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~

Alma woke up to strange noise. She could always hear a lot of what was happening within Caista walls, due how... normal(?) her room was, compared to her children and weird noises weren't something unusual, with what people her children grew up into... but even then this one was even out of ordinary.

At first, she didn't realize what it was to begin with, but she soon came to recognize it.

It was a cry. A baby's cry. And, by the sound of that... there was more than one baby too.

Do we have a visitor? Maybe they didn't have time to find a babysitter? Alma thought to herself. It did make sense, as they did have a few families, who recently had a baby, including two, who had twins each...

But then again... why were they here so early? Why were the babies crying still? Why weren't their parents comforting them?

And why... was it so quiet? There was no thunder... no clattering... no rat squeaking, no wod knocking, or sand and salt falling...

It was dealt quiet. The only noise being the babies' crying.

"What is going on?" Alma, forgetting all about still being in her night clothes and that she just woke up, got out of her bed and left her room.

She walked past her children's rooms, taking time to knock and look inside, to find the triplets inside. But they all were empty. No a single sign of either of the triplets.

Alma's heart started to beat faster, as she walked thorugh the hall, before she was met with the Casita nursery door. She didn't know, why she came there, but her feet themselves dragged her to it. And, by the sounds of it, it was where the crying was coming from too. With another sigh, the matriarch pushed the door, preparing to any chaos that might be happening on the other side.

But, to her own surprise. It was fine. Just like it always was, when she would visit it.

"Huh..." She looked around, rasung an eyebrow. "That's... weird..." but it still didn't explain anything.

Where were her children? What was going on? And where are those crying babies? She swore, when she got her hands on that ignorant parents, she'd tell them-!

And then, she saw a movement on one of beds. Alma raised her eyebrow, making her way across the room to it, where her eyes widened.

On bed, there were three tiny wailing babies, probably just a few months old, identical similar white outfits.

But what happened was out of her control, as she fell on her knees, gently taking all three of the small infants in her arms.

She finally understood, why she came here. She understood, why no parent was there to comfort these poor children. Because it was meant to be her. Because it was neutral to her. Because no parent would stand by, when their child was crying.

And it what happened to her, no expectation. They cried and she came. Like any other mother would her children.

Her children... her beautiful girls and sweet boy... somehow returned to this fragile, helpless point of life and waited for her to come for them.

"Oh, queridos míos" She whispered, holding her little ones to her chest. "I'm so sorry, I came so late..."

Julieta was the first one to stop crying, through her sniffles were still there, but she looked up onto her mother with a hopeful eyes. She hoped Alma knew what was happening. All while her siblings were still crying, Bruno burying his face into Alma's shoulder, looking for safety and comfort, and Pepa's cry seemed to only increase, nearly coming to scream from frustration or fear.

Alma didn't mind it too much through. It's been way far too long since she held all three of her children like this. And oh boy, she missed it! She let her maternal instincts take over, as she continued to rock herself, while rubbing her babies' heads and backs and humming familiar for them lullabies, hoping it would help them to settle down.

And eventually, it did, with all three of her babies sleeping soundly in her arms. Alma sighed out, but still not letting go. She just sat there, watching her precious little ones asleep on her chest. A light smile crossed her face, as she kissed their small heads.

"But don't worry, my little ones. It's going to be alright... Mamá will make sure of it~"

WOAHHHHH SO RAD 😮‍💨

I think this is so cool. Nice to see Alma not really liking the miracle⁉️ Listen, I’m not goona lie. I’m a sucker for those kind of aus. Where Alma lowkey don’t like the magic/miracle, and majorly prioritizes family over it. My favs 🚴‍♀️💨💨

ANYWAY YEAHHHHH, I like this. Alma not even seeing them turning into babies a bad thing. Like her main priority is calming them down and. I’m living for that, she is so real for that 🤕

I LOVE THEM 🗣️🗣️🗣️

If you have more, would totes love to see it, if you wanna share of course <33

[modstin]

Hello, prospective gender switcher! If you're here, it means you're interested in having a bit of a change. Maybe this has been a long time coming, something you've wanted to do forever. Maybe you just want to see what the other side of the street (or, depending on your lineage, any particular lane) is like!

To get to Brass Tax, you want to change your Physical Appearance, particularly your Sex. That's awesome! Today, we'll be going through the methods, operations, and specifics of this transformation! Helping us will be Thell Windertrot! Say Hi, Thell!

Thell is an Alfr, just over the age of thirty six (around eighteen in Alfr years). She's been socially transitioned since she was twenty two, but now that she's out on her own and learning magic in Astieux University, she feels its finally time for her to under go a more permanent change.

First thing's first; Figuring Yourself Out

Who are you, really?

If you're looking to get such a large scale change of both your social life and physical being, you'll want to be certain about it. These changes may not be permanent, but when you're dealing with real biomantical magic rather than simple illusion or different outfits, you'll come out exhausted both physically and emotionally. Repeated use of this kind of magic can be dangerous, as any magic can be.

Consider the changes you'll need to make in every day life. A change of any body part for another can change daily needs and wants. Think about your social life! Unlike certain worlds, the majority of Miran society sees no oddity at all with transgender individuals, but social stereotypes for the sexes still exist. It's always important to consider your entire life situation before going through with something like this.

Second thing's second! Methods.

While modern medicine is quite adept at handling illnesses and life saving surgeries without magic (and preferably, since magic has its own shortcomings), changing an entire core aspect of your being is best done magically. Let's see what your options are;

Divine Blessing.

The largest religion on Mira is Shianism. While Temperant Shians have a rarely conservative view on sex changing, Vertian and most other paths of Shianism do not!

Going through a divine sex change may require entreating the gods, requesting her holy light Audesoux and Saint Lehsda bless you with the miracle of a sex change. Then, a dignified Priestess of the gods may be able to invoke such a transformation on you, if the gods are willing.

This is the preferable way of the faithful. The request may not immediately be granted, it may in fact take years for Her Holy Light to give you what you request, after much prayer and sacrifice.

While this may seem a downside, it is merely another way to prove dedication and love and respect for one's religion and the saints themselves.

Thell isn't interested. She's been ready too long to be put on a waiting list, and wizards like her famously aren't very religious.

Primal Transformation

The loosely organized druids of the natural world have their own ways of magically granting a sex change, but these methods are, at times, a bit strange.

Stereotypical though it may be, a person looking to change their physical sex through druidic magic can expect a lot of smoking, a lot of meditation, a lot of being naked in the woods, and generally accepting nature as part of your body (since it has to do a lot of construction work in there to get things done...)

This too requires dedication, but is a natural and relaxing way to allow the natural world itself to restructure you, taking back what it gave, and replacing it with what you've always wished for. To some, that's comforting. As though they were born again as what they truly feel themselves to be!

Thell doesn't like this either. She prefers to have an actual toilet with actual plumbing around, and has very bad pollen allergies...

Witchcraft Therapy

Witches, as usual, prefer to not use magic for gender transformations. However, there are many potions and tinctures that do quite easily replace the hormones of a patient with that of their proper gender.

This gender affirming care comes along with, what cityfolk might call, 'therapy'. But witches prefer to just talk with their patients over tea. Psychological pushing, a little bit of showey sparkles, and real hormone replacement is the jist of witchcraft.

Thell has actually already done some of this. Her local witch back home would give her such potions, which is why she's already looking so fetching! It's a good preliminary, but... she wants a real permanent change...

Arcane Transmogrification

The best and worst thing about arcane magic is its... literal-ness. When you use arcane magic, you are not relying on a god to translate your wish, or the primal spirits of nature to interpret your command, you are relying entirely on yourself. This is why wizardry has so much... math! You need to know exactly what you're doing to pull spells from the firmament.

Thankfully, Thell is a very very good wizard!

Thell has already read up on the options. And considers it simple to do this with a spell! All you need to do is tell the universe exactly what you want your body to be. And as you weave Chroma, the extraordinary energy that interlaces the world, from the air, your volition will change the universe to make it so!

Now this is where Arcanism puts its blocker. If you mess up a spell like this... it might not turn out great. Again, you need to KNOW what you want to happen!

Polymorph spells are particularly troublesome. Biological beings generally want to stay the shape they are, and more than that, want to keep inside from being on the outside.

When you cast a polymorph spell on an unwilling target, you first have to overcome the 'shape' barrier. You can convince a body to be a frog if you really focus on a frog and that person fails to resist, but you can't convince a body to be a pile of dead organs on the ground, no matter how hard you try.

But that's different with willing targets... meaning it's actually possible to put your organs on the outside if you make a really big mistake.

Thell needs to properly visualize herself, her new body, and so decides to try to sculpt one out of clay! Let's check in and-

Uhm. Maybe a bit more modest there, Thell?

And there! Thell has her sculpted model. She's been studying for works, modifying this spell word by word, diagram by diagram, to create her perfect body! Have anything else you'd like to say, Thell?

It's thanks to her skillful modification and use of this spell on her very own body, soon she'll get an apprenticeship with a very powerful archmage! And will inevitably send her on an adventure that will change her life forever. (Check it out at Chromaverse.net if you'd like!)

I hope you've enjoyed taking a look at this magical process!

[optimismxmagicism]

Heartpounding! A miracle of song?!

Bard mastery drabble - 630 words

Oh I can’t wait to tell you my feelings For this moment I have been dreaming Learning to sing while slinging my magic, I wanna show you what I have learned

I’m healing hearts by moonlight, And fighting darkness by daylight, Having been blessed with this new might, I will always win the fight!

Your words of wisdom will always guide my way And with this light, I’ve grown once again! Trying so hard to accomplish my dreams I study hard so I can stand by you, Writing this song I hope to touch your heart, To bring a smile on your face! I may not have her beauty or her grace, But you thought I stood out from the crowd, Always your student, past, present, and future I really hope to make you proud! I still remember when you found me on that day And from then on, my purpose was found.

Every night as I stand under the sky I wonder if that’s the spark in my eyes The Spark that you saw and gave me a future, I wonder if that’s what it could be..

This miracle that you entrusted in my hands, I realize, I owe it to you

And so this song that tells you my feelings, I hope to you that it will have meaning Forever yours, your student, always! The dreaming mage that fights for you. The grateful mage that loves you so, The smiling mage: Yeah that’s me!

As the song came to an end, for a moment all Ewan could hear was his own heartbeat. Badump..badump.. 

And then, roaring applause, followed by cheering from all sides. “We love you!!” They shouted.

Ewan bowed gratefully at the support of his loyal fans, a bright smile on his face. “Thank you, thank you! I love you all so much too!” While that was absolutely true, this song in particular was aimed towards one man. Said man was in the front row, having received a special seat. He smiled at the boy on stage, and stepped up. 

“Ewan…” he said, as he embraced the boy. “Your feelings in this song, I’ve heard them. They've opened my eyes to how much you've matured already... I think you’re ready for it.” Ewan could feel his heart pound in his chest. This was it, the moment he’s been dreaming of! The moment he’d finally-

“BA-KAAAAWK!”

…wait what? He blinked and before he knew it, the man’s head was replaced by that of a rooster. Not just his though, everyone in the crowd suddenly had rooster heads too! What the-?!

“COCKADOODLEDOOOOO!”

“YIKES!” With a shout, Ewan shot upright from where he fell asleep on his desk. His chair tipped dangerously, before it came plummeting down- with the boy sitting on top of it coming down as well. “Owwww……” Groaning, he got up to see a rooster outside, pecking at his window. “Aw, stupid chicken! I was having such a nice dream…” 

He looked at the papers strewn about his desk. Oh, that’s right.. His assignment. The professor told him he should try to think about his deepest feelings and put them to song. Various scribbles, attempts at lyrics and crossed out sentences littered his papers. Writing out his true feelings was harder than he thought, especially when it had to rhyme and be lyrically cohesive. But bards write from the heart to touch their audience’s hearts, sorta like magic! ....Right? The little mage wondered if his words could someday reach the people he loves most…. He looked at his most recent attempt, titled “Miracle Encounter”. 

… …… ……..

Ugh, cringe. He quickly crumpled up the paper and threw it in the bin. Sitting down and grabbing a fresh sheet of paper, he started to think. He really wanted to convey his true feelings properly…

(END)

[sokkas-first-fangirl]

Hi! For Isabela and Alma prompts how about Isabela telling Alma she doesn't want to marry Mariano?

Ask and ye shall receive 💕

"Such a perfect match and so good for the Encanto."

"Such a fine young man with our perfect Isabela will bring a new generation of magical blessings, and make both of our families stronger."

"The perfect gentleman for our perfect young lady."

Isabela could recite it all. She could copy Abuela's exact tone of voice if she wished. If she dared.

For so long, she'd smiled and nodded. She'd played along and agreed, parroting Abuela; "So perfect. He's so sweet. So wonderful. Everything will be perfect."

It was always on the tip of her tongue to say, "Abuela, I don't love him. I can't do this. I don't want to do this. I think you like him more than I do. Please, let's not go ahead."

She hadn't dared. Abuela was happy. The family was happy. The village was happy.

Isabela had told herself that was all she needed. How could she possibly break her poor grandmother's heart? Her abuela, who loved her so dearly, who was so excited for her...But Abuela was excited about a fantasy that simply didn't exist.

And Abuela was trying to be different now. She had apologised to everyone, she'd promised to stop holding on so tight. She apologised to Isabela for yelling and saying she was out of control. Abuela had even hesitantly asked her about all the stuff she'd grown before the Miracle went out.

Isabela was different too. For the first time ever, she was taking the time to find out who she was. She tried new things; she felt freer than she ever had before.

But among all the changes, there was one loose thread: Mariano Guzman.

Poor, sweet, air-headed, gentlemanly Mariano. She couldn't keep lying anymore.

She'd already told her parents that morning, but she insisted on telling Abuela herself, turning down their offers to help. All the same, Isa knew that Julieta and Agustín would be in ear-shot, ready to jump in if things went south. Isabela hoped they wouldn't. She hoped Abuela would listen to her this time.

"Abuela?" Isabela stood before her, her heart pounding. "I have something to tell you."

"Yes, amor?" Abuela smiled expectantly. Love and pride were in her gaze as always, shining like stars. Were those twin lights about to go out forever?

Isabela steadied her nerves and took a deep breath. Be brave, she told herself. You need to be brave. Tell the truth.

She looked Abuela straight in the eye.

"I don't want to marry Mariano."

[caeca-iustitia]

Idea 1 -

Guardian Angels are people who were considered to have “powerful” souls and a strong drive to protect others. These people were made immortal and nigh-invulnerable, granted wings and assigned to a charge. Their purpose is to ensure that their charge survives until they are intended to die- failure results in the stripping of their title as a guardian and the punishment of the individual in question. 

Idea 2 -

Guardian Angels are the dead given a second chance; soul-bound to their charge. They are nigh impossible to kill and will outlive their charge but this comes at a price. Emotions are not something that a Guardian has a right to and they lose any emotions they feel when they are assigned to a charge; in essence, becoming emotionless meat shields with immense power.

-

Idea 1 (Expanded) -

Guardian Angels can be pulled from the living or the dead; brought up to a higher state of existence by the Goddess Minerva to act on her behalf in protecting those that cannot protect themselves. Granted wings of a brilliant white, Guardians are sworn to a solemn duty of minding their charges (of which they can have up to 5 at any given time) in times of physical and mental duress. 

They can provide comfort, healing and thoughtful advice to keep their charge on the path of light. However, they are not permitted to kill in their charge’s name and must settle for protection. 

Guardians wield all manner of weapons but focus primarily on holy miracles and defensive weaponry (typically shields and bows for long-range cover fire). Their wings are used to block incoming damage and have the capability for flight- allowing swift travel to the aid of their charge.

One can typically tell a Guardian Angel apart from regular humans through 2 methods- they react aggressively in the face of anything unholy and they are usually blessed with a very faint halo of light that emanates from behind their heads. Barely noticeable normally, this halo brightens when they channel natural magic and their holy abilities. 

Failure to protect a charge will result in a penalty being added to the soul of the Guardian. If their last charge dies unprotected then the Guardian has their wings removed, their blessings revoked and they are severely punished by the Goddess Minerva. They shall never again be able to lift a blade- even in self-defence- and they are blinded to represent the darkness of death that their charge now must bear witness to in light of their failure. 

-

Idea 2 (Expanded) -

Guardian Angels are less “pure” or “righteous” and are far more aggressive with their approach to protecting their charge.

These angels are veritable tanks; capable of withstanding a tremendous amount of damage before buckling to it and they possess rapid regenerative abilities. Their strength is unmatched and they react aggressively to attempts to harm their charge- typically swinging upon forming at their charge’s side without hesitation. 

While they still employ healing miracles and defensive spell weaving, they are far more focused on eliminating possible threats first and foremost.

They possess one skill that most would never expect; for the price of sacrificing one of their wings a Guardian is capable of resurrecting their charge once. It is a great cost for a miracle such as that but with them being unable to wield the Phoenix nor Revive materias, it is the only option available to them. It shows their dedication to their charge as the loss of a wing is no small thing even for the most powerful of Guardians. 

The Goddess deemed emotions “a burden” and thus stripped the Guardians of their ability to feel emotions. They become, in essence, silent bastions of protection for their charges with emotionless faces but gentle touches. 

Typically, these Guardians appear as translucent shades behind their charges with weapon in hand. Always ready to strike when prompted or in the defence of their charge.

[argent-l-p]

Facets of a Shattered Memory

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

Fun Fact, I actually had to split the story into two parts because I wrote too much! Part two will be posted when its finished.

Pt. 2

WARNINGS!: Blood, Violence, Child Neglect, Harm to Children, Permanent Memory Loss

______________________________________________

When Isabela had been born the candle flared and danced in the confines of the lonely sill it had sat on since the night of its creation. Every person had been in the birthing room when she came screaming into the world, but the magic which had anchored itself into the very walls and ground also bore witness to the next generation taking its first breath. Golden wisps trailed off the flame and when the night became quiet and the child slept in her cradle, it coiled within her very soul, her future waiting to bloom and bring life to the world. 

As she grew, that golden light grew within her, a spring of life bubbling in her blood, ready to break the mortared walls of the barriers keeping it from overflowing, but even then, it slipped out in ways that revealed themselves later. At the tender age of three, the gardens around her home were bountiful as she tended to them at her mother’s side, the fruit trees grew a sweeter harvest, and the fields sustained the Encanto twice over. Of course, the townspeople saw this and thought of the blessing of the candle, worshipped it more and the family alongside it. How were they to know that this was all just the excess magic that dripped from the palm of a child not even old enough to comprehend the tragedy and the divinity that gave rise to their Eden? Isabela's, aunt was the one who tended the fields most often, her rain reaching far and her sun beaming down unto their little piece of paradise. The little girl who had dug her hands into the soil and listened to the very earth sing to her, its voice the deep, lilting, could not have been the reason no one starved. After all, magic only existed when given by the candle and she had never been allowed to see her Familia work. 

But the miracle of their continued survival began to grow heavier in its weight and the minds of many believed that their sanctuary was derived from the gifts of a family scarred by the death of its father and his blood that had seeped into the earth. As a child, Isabela was not privy to the innerworkings of her grandmother’s mind and was never exposed to it until she was older. As such, she never saw the weight of expectation settle on her shoulders or her mother bend to the will of the town. Her aunt’s moods had always been erratic so she did not see the difference when the sky clouded over and the light grey clouds begin to darken further. Her uncle’s habits were silly to her, so when they began to multiply Isabela was none the wiser to the change. 

She was young and she would be a child for a little longer. Children are not privy to the oncoming storms that fate has ordained or the death of the future which they had looked forward to. 

On her fifth birthday, three years after the birth of another Madrigal, a Prima whose magic called her Familia, the candle flared again and that ball of golden light unfurled in her chest, spilling past the confines of her body in unseen strings and the plants around her bloomed. When her door flared in a golden array of light and inlaid itself with it her grandmother called it a miracle and the flowers blooming in her hands a gift; Isabela herself called it a gift. But the creeping jaws of expectation had circled and surrounded her on that night, cutting off any chance for what was to come to be avoided.  

(Where no one could hear, the stars wailed and one fell from its place as the very sky grieved for a child who would never be again) 

At seven years old, two years passed the night her magic revealed itself, and the oldest of her generation, she began to assist in the Encanto. At first it was in the town proper with her mother at her side, adding decoration to the newer buildings and brining the dead greenery back to life, then it was in the smaller gardens withing the homes of the town. Isabela had loved it then and was eager to help in any way she could and be like her mother. Her mother whose eyes began to look more and more tired as the days passed and her hair began to turn from the stress- 

She wanted to be like her mother and her grandmother who told her it was their job to serve their people, so she wanted to help them too. Isabela sped ushered along the growth of the crops, the fruit of the trees, and when Luisa Madrigal was born, she took over her care when their mother was called back to work. She created a cradle of vines wherever she went and a bassinet appeared at her bedside within the hour of learning that she would help take care of her sister. She used her gift to entertain and teach, even if she had been tutored privately since the gold of her gift strengthened and didn’t know how the teachers taught at the school anymore. When her Luisa began to talk her first words had been Mama to their mother and then Isa, her name being too long and hard for a little mouth learning to form words. 

And it was as she carried her sister around the town and into the fields that Isabela began to feel that itch in her soul. The very jungle called out to her, a choir of sirens and nymphs singing out to her, and the earth adding in her own teasing warmth to the voices. She wanted to explore and she did so during her moments of rest. When Luisa was taken from her after her mother returned to Casita, she snuck off and explored the edge of the tree line, the reaching branches and hanging vines her own playground. The plants at her feet clung to her skin and the roots lifted themselves from their places, gentle fingers brushing against her hands. 

Their voices were warm golden heat, bubbling laughter and fond sighs, “Nuestro pequeño amor...” 

Because that’s what she was to the Earth and its spirits, their Little Love. In that same vein, they were hers in ways that she could never really articulate to others who asked what her gift was like. It was a truth so profound that all she could really say to her mother was that it felt warm and safe and home. 

(Julieta Madrigal would never understand and neither would her siblings. Their gifts had long since felt cold and any memory of a time when they had felt warm had been lost as they began to feel more and more like a burden-) 

For hours on end, she would lay in the grass and listen to them, lulled into the space between the waking world and sleep, but even when she walked about the town, she could hear them all. Sometimes when she tended to the bushes and the flowers at the center of the town, she could hear the whispers of the plants growing around her, their speech small compared to that of what awaited her beyond the buildings, but still distinctly golden. But for all that she tried to resist the calling when she was given more and more places to help, she would still sneak out the windows and crash into the waiting arms of the roots and vines. 

At the age of eight, though the days were longer and more difficult as she worked the soil, she would always find time to lay at the feet of the towering trees and listen to those voices sing to her. Isabela loved to hear the stories carried there from far away and the daring that would fill her mind made her wish that she was out there alongside the heroes, but following that wish was an image of her sister and the Encanto. No, she would think and though she would wonder what it would be like to see the seas and the faraway lands that she dreamt of, she was content here in her home. So, instead she would write the stories down and tell them to her sister, eventually creating her own when she realized she could, but every story she had ever been told was tucked away carefully in her room. 

A year passed, then two, and within the Encanto life flourished, but perhaps this is where things began to turn. Yes, the people were able to provide food for their families and the families of other, businesses opened, and the last lingering fear of not having enough to survive died, however, with this peace came far reaching consequences. Though Isabela’s gift was revered and though she no longer had to walk the fields at her aunt’s side, her abuela ushered her into the homes of the more renowned families and into the streets. Where she had been able to see her gift’s value in aiding their people and listening to the plants in order to help in other ways, she began to see imperfections in the reasoning of her new role. 

Sitting at the table and watching her mother, her mother who looked more worn than she had years before, she asked “How do roses help the Encanto? Or the lilies in the rivers, Mami?” 

“No se Mija. Ask your Abuela; I'm sure she has a good reason.” 

At nine years of age Isabela had known to follow her elder’s commands and when her grandmother told her not to worry, she didn’t ask again, but in her mind, she began to doubt. So that night as she lay in the cradle of vines and roots, she expressed her worries, the earth quiet and the Choir humming a low lullaby in the background, “I just don’t understand.” 

The Choir hummed and the vines began to gently rock her, “Amor, has Pensado si puede ser que tu don trae felicidad a los que to miran? Se que tu hermanita sonría mas cuando tu la cuidas.” 

And that soothed her soul and the gold in her chest, but a child is not privy to the worries of those who love them. 

While she herself could not hear the trembling not being sung in the background the Choir did. They could hear that discordant note and as they nudged their pequeño amor back home a few hours later, they and the earth could hear the wailing of the stars. The trees creaked violently and off in the distance the earth rumbled lowly. Something was coming, something that could rend the golden ropes connecting the Choir to their amor or strengthen them in turn, but either way they would not let anything take her away from them. 

(And for a moment the stars flickered and then their wailing grew a bit quieter. While the evets to come would not cease to happen, they would change and a child would live.) 

When Isabela turned ten a month later, the gold threads and ropes tightened and the Choir called out to her more loudly. Even when she was inside her home or in the center of the town, she could hear them as if she were laying in the roots and even though her Abuela would scold her for standing still for too long, the gold in her chest unfurled a bit more. It felt like the song was within her and that incandescent feeling inside her felt like more as it tangled with the gold. 

Within a few weeks, the first vine appeared on her wrist. It was delicate thing, so thin it could have broken with a too harsh hand gesture, but when she listened, she could hear a faint song coming from it and it felt like love. She surrounded it with flowers, bracing it against her skin, and in the moments throughout the day when she sat down to relax after hours of work, she would gently stroke it, the Choir singing to her and the gold light dancing in her chest. 

From then on flowering vines would sprout from her skin and Isabela loved them because they were hers and she was theirs. Each moment was like being coated in the love shared between them and the golden ropes connecting them, but the beauty was not just something that she could feel. Others watched this and it felt holy watching a Madrigal whose gift was more visible be covered in the proof that the magic was strong, but in turn their renewed reverence for the miracle which saved them was flawed. 

How could they have known what their actions would inspire? How could they have guessed what the Madrigal matriarch would do to save face? How could Isabela have predicted that her year of happiness would be followed by her fate? 

None of them could have known what was to come, but for the year that they had in the sun, it was spent in bliss. The Madrigals were busy but the day that Luisa’s door appeared, a few weeks before Isabela’s eleventh birthday, Alma Madrigal looked over her family and in looking to her oldest granddaughter saw the vines wrapped around her arms and saw imperfection. She walked over to Isabela, put a gentle hand on her head, and with a soft smile she asked, “Mi Flor, se pueden quitar estos vides? Your dress is getting messy.” 

(The Choir and the earth heard the heavens wails pierce the air and in a second, the vines under their Pequeño Amor’s blouse tightened around her torso; She was theirs and no one would take her from them.) 

The first battle in this war between expectation and agency begun. In her soul, a revulsion at the thought of hiding her vines coiled and she had half a mind to curl her lip in disgust, but she looked up and in the eyes of the woman above her, she saw something ugly. So, with a smile on her lips she agreed and though she wanted to scream, the Choir shushed her and the vines slowly retreated under her blouse, coiling around her chest over the covered spaced of her shoulders, and clung to her legs. Whatever it was lurking in the eyes of that woman was too volatile to poke at. 

Any resistance would lead to hurt and that was something that they could not abide coming to Isabela; Not if they could avoid it. 

They sung to her as Alma tuned away and said, “Amor, seria mejor hacer lo que quiera por ahorita. No nos gusta lo que vemos dentro de ella. Lo dorado se mira muerto.” And what could she say about that? The golden ropes within were supposed to look vibrant and strong; Not withered and dead. Maybe now was not the time to truly fight back, but she worried for what that meant. As the days passed, the occasional request to remove the vines from different places became more frequent until they were daily occurrence. Isabela, after discussing the issue further, had just decided to keep the vines wrapped around her torso at the Choir’s insistence and the flowering plants in her hair. It was around a month later that the pain really began.  

She had been at the kitchen table, pencil in hand to write down notes, when she felt a pull at her temple and heard the snap of a stem. She had quickly spun around just in time to see the frown on Alma’s face, the contempt n her eyes, as she stared down at the blue flower that had been nestled above her ear. Isabela had watched as she looked up and that frown was quickly replaced by an artificial smile and scolding look. 

She watched in disbelief as the matriarch lectured her about the more appropriate flowers to wear and when Alma plucked the others from their places, she was too stunned to stop it, but she heard the all-consuming anger in the voices of the Choir and the hate in the rumble of the earth. Isabela had been used to the soothing song from her infancy, but this? This wasn’t the loving music she’d heard since the gold had bloomed. This was the echoing war song and the dripping malice from the lips of the grieving. It took all she had to reign in the vines and prevent what she knew could only be a possible trip to her mother. 

From then on it when she was in a constant state of avoiding her grandmother and the removal of her plants, but eventually she would be caught and was forced into her seat and her flowers were cut from her. For every time she had to endure this the pull on her skin worsened until a sharp sting began to be felt. The very first instance of this she almost couldn’t believe what was happening, but then she felt it again and again until the session was over. Even the Choir and the earth quieted to the lowest volume she had ever heard it at and only swelled back to what it usually was when it was over. 

Back in her room she carefully touched her head and felt a left-over burn from where her lilies had been, but when she pulled her hand away there was the smallest trickle of blood. From within, the gold writhed and anchored itself further and the ropes tightened. It was an understatement to say that she was afraid, but before she could begin to cry vines swooped down from above her bed and pulled her into their cradle. She was cocooned in the place where she felt safest and there, she let her tears flow as she was rocked and cooed at. The song turned into her lullaby and the last thing she could really remember clearly was thinking that she was no longer safe in Casita. 

(A child is supposed to be safe. A child is not supposed to be afraid and alone and bleeding-) 

The next morning when Isabela woke to find the slightest bit of bark over the small wound the Choir sang to her comfortingly, “Para protegerte y para que tengas parte de nosotros contigo en una manera menos visible al ojo, Amor. Si no puedes tener nuestras flores, entonces tendrás nuestra armadura.” 

The bleeding had stopped and the bark though small, brought her sense of comfort in the wake of such a disorienting discovery. How long had it been since she had been comforted? Her own mother was too preoccupied by the needs of the town to pay attention to her daughters and her father was, though eager to spend time with them, always out of the house. It’d been quite some time since she had seen either of her parents outside of the first meal of the day and even then, they did not stay for long. 

None of the adults stayed for long anymore and the children all had to fend for themselves. 

As she went about her days, in the blue skirts and white blouses instead of whatever pink monstrosity her grandmother insisted she wear, she would touch her temple gently every time she thought about what happened and the Choir would sing, accompanied by the low bass of the earth. Of every being Isabela had ever known, they had been the only ones she could remember truly caring for her in a consistent manner. Her own parents had been absent in recent years, leaving her to raise her sister when they weren’t around, which was often. But the Choir had been constant and the earth steadfast in their care, never once leaving her to the dark. 

They were hers and she was theirs, her very being tied to them in such profound ways that exceeded and surpassed the relationships she had with the adults in her life. Where her parents had only ever given flimsy words of comfort, el Monte and la Tierra had cradled her and curled around her when she was in pain. It became all the more evident as weeks went by, that tuned into months, until the night came where the measure of love was tested and found wanting. 

(The sky was screaming and the constellations were shattering, breaking themselves apart in their grief. A shrieking symphony that heralded the arrival of the coming choice.) 

Laying in a pool of her own blood and staring listlessly into what was beyond her sight, listening to the war cries of the Choir and the calls for blood from la Tierra, Isabela could not have predicted what the day would end like. Only an hour ago she had been telling her sister a recent story the Choir had sung to her, grinning wildly and promising to bring her out to the jungle the next time they both had time away from any duties. 

She had privately thought then that any notion of rest would have been put off to when they were their mothers age, but seeing her sister happy on her birthday was far more important and to shatter it on a day of celebration and such a momentous occasion felt wrong. After all, a new gift was something wonderous to see and one of such calibers was wonderous and relieving; Dolores could hear a pin drop from the other side of the town, but Luisa could move bridges. It was the first gift since Isabela’s that was useful and could benefit the Encanto. 

It’d been close to dinner and they’d been washing their hands when her blouse had ridden up to expose a sliver of her side. It was only when Luisa had pointed it out that she realized the danger she was in.Her sister had excitedly pointed at her vines and had even tugged her blouse up a bit to see better in the waning light, “Isabela your vines are giving you a hug!” 

“Que?” 

The moment she heard that voice her stomach dropped and she felt cold, hollow and so distant from her own body. The echoes of Luisa’s excitement should have been so close to her ear, but everything felt so far away and all she could focus on was the slow anger flooding her grandmothers face. The tightening and flexing of hands that wanted to slam onto the counter and the straining chords of her neck, a product of wanting to scream, but all Alma Madrigal did was take a breath turn around and say, “We will speak about this later Isabela. I am very disappointed in you.” 

That dinner Isabela could hardly restrain herself from bolting for the stairs, her only consolation being that she would be able to lift herself onto the second level using her vines. While she was always seated closer to her grandmother, she had the advantage of being younger and closer to the stairs, where Alma had been almost blocked into her seat at the head of the table. She had a free range of movement and the advantage of her gift and the gold light that writhed inside her wanting to protect- 

Any hunger was transformed into nausea and though Luisa raised the oppressive mood, Isabela could see the uneasy looks between the adults. Tia Pepa had a softly rumbling storm and Tio Felix alternated between running a soothing hand down her back and shooting a concerned glance towards her. Her mother and father were pale and she could feel the tension mount slowly between them as their cena grew closer to finishing. Isabela could feel her heartbeat skyrocket as the plates grew empty and the moment her Abuela set down her utensils she quickly excused herself, ignoring the calls to return, letting the flowering branches and vines along the railing of the second floor to wrap around her and pull her up. 

She had quickly entered her room and what used to be a bright and sunny clearing with light streaming down from above was now dimmed in mimicry of the sky. The room barricaded itself from the inside and trees groaned as they sifted blocking as much of the entrance as possible, roots raising out from the soil ready to entangle anyone who dared come inside. Like a frightened animal, she curled herself up in the thickest tangle of vines in her room watching the door. Of everything that had been whirling around in her head, one stood out screaming in defiance; She didn’t want to give up the Choir or la Tierra anymore, so why couldn’t she keep them? The bark had only multiplied in the months since they first appeared on her skin, her very own armor and protection; Why couldn’t something that kept her safe stay? 

That’s when the knocking started, then the calls for her to answers, and all the while she lay curled up, ready to spring away at a moment's notice. Alma Madrigal called for her to answer, but everything that Isabela had seen and had been sung to her made her want to bare her teeth. Alma Madrigal was her grandmother, yes, but she was also a danger that Isabela had been fearing would turn its gaze onto her. She’d barely scraped by this long without having to prune her vines, not even long enough to let Alma’s reverent belief in perfection to pass by. 

She almost missed the next person to try and reach her, but her father’s voice is so rare in recent memory that her mind latches onto it, remembers feeling safe and loved and whole. 

“Isa? Can you open the door for me?” 

And there’s nothing but concern in the way he talks and she feels like he really means it, and it's been so long that she ignores the warning bells. The vines loosen and in the second she realizes what she’s done, they’ve gotten in and the fear comes back stronger. Her father approached her with arms raised and that smile he had in her childhood memories- 

(They watched in horror as her father betrayed her, her mother tried to soothe and harm, and as the wretched one watched impassively, chiding the screams-.) 

She doesn’t remember much after that, it all looks like a blur in her memories and though she tries to remember how it was that led to those painful hours, all she really knows is this: she was held down by her parents as flowers and bark were meticulously removed from her body. The only persistent fact, made all the clearer with the aching of her body, was that it was agony. It was like the entire event was left unremembered and all she knew was that her parents looked down at her in horror as the bleeding didn’t stop.  

She heard the yelling begin and when they had reached out to her, to help, and heal, she violently flinched away from them, roots shooting out from beneath the ground and wrapping themselves around the adults. They’d been unceremoniously and rather forcefully launched out of the room, hitting the second-floor railing, a loud crack sounding as they impacted. The door slammed shut and flickered, the gold steaming off the wooden surface and sparking erratically.  

Though the Choir and la Tierra sung her to sleep with a lullaby so soft it hurt, all she could still hear the dripping of blood and the tearing of her vines. Here in the cradle, where it was safe up high and away from the hands that harmed, she could cry and scream; so that’s what she did.  

(A child is supposed to laugh and sing, and play, not scream and writhe and bleed-) 

The days passed and then a week had gone by, any attempts to get into the room failed and then that day came. It was dark inside her room, the creaking of vines and the groans of trees the voices of those who loved her fiercely telling her to hide, to be weary. Her family had tried to get her to open the door again, but that trick had been used once and she wouldn’t be letting them in again. Her father, then her mother, and then her uncles and aunt, all telling her to come out, that she was safe... 

Why did they lie? 

(A child is sacred and beloved. A child is to be protected. A child is t-) 

The yelling outside her door all sounded the same, well, that was until she came to the door. It was something out of her nightmares, the never heard yelling and the present anger replacing the frustration normally used. 

“Isabela Madrigal! I don’t know why you’ve chosen to act out young lady, but that is enough! You will come out here by the time dinner is done tonight or I will force this door in whatever way I can!” The sentence echoed in her mind, the Choir hissed, la Tierra roared, but all she could hear was, “I will force this door open!”  

(She is a CHILD!) 

I will force this door open, I will force this door open, I will force this door open, I will force this door open, open, open. 

Open. 

Oh. 

Oh, Dios! 

NO! 

(The heavens were deafening, the Choir reached its crescendo, la Tierra bellowed with sound of continents rending open, to RUN-) 

Isabela jerked out of the tangle of vines, eyes wild and wide, but before she could reach the door, the roots redirect her. Weak legs stumble, and though a spark of furious desperation makes itself known, she turns in that direction and from the wall, a window appears. At first, it’s the moving of the stone and then larger and larger pieces start to crumble, carving out a divot, a dent, then a hole. It was quick in reality she was sure, but every moment she was not out, Isabela felt like every second lasted hours. 

Then all at once the hole took form, peeking out from a frame of tree trunks was golden, blessed daylight and oh- 

The jungle, verdant leaves and alive in ways that she had missed is right there at a straightforward run, how long had it been since she felt this much relief?  

“Amor,” the Choir sung, “Aunque no estén tu familia, seria mejor irnos por atrás de Casita. Ella nos esta ayudando.” 

The house’s walls poked tiles out into a staircase, its darkening shadows in the setting sun set to conceal her way down. Isabela didn’t think twice before she was scrabbling down the side of the building, nearly slipping in her haste, but when she reached the ground there was no force on this earth that could stop her from sprinting into the tree line. She never looked back to see the window closing up again or watch Casita’s roof tiles wave a slow, sad goodbye, but the moment she crashed through that invisible line of no return, she felt the golden chords binding her to her family snap. 

She was free. 

(The very heavens blazed brighter, the constellation grieved, but a new star was being born shining against the backdrop of black and raging against the what could have been.) 

She ran and ran, so long that she lost feeling in her legs, but she didn’t stop not until she felt safe. Isabela didn’t know how long it was until she stumbled and then fell to her knees, but when she did the shadows were long and the last bit of daylight was slipping away. Turning onto her back she watched the breaks in the canopy slowly lose their brightness until she was overcome with the exhaustion of the last week. 

Her head felt heavy, but even if she lay on the damp earth, she felt unrestrained for the first time in many, many years. Here the Choir was all encompassing and la Tierra a thrumming palpable presence, the vibrations of their voices felt deep within her soul, “Amor, todavía estás adolorida. Duérmete. Nosotras te cuidamos mientras estés soñando.” 

And that offer was so tempting, her eyes drooped and her body was already going lax as vines and roots rose up to wrap around her, but before she could drop off completely, she whispered, “Promise?” 

And the resounding answer was, “Siempre, Amor.” 

(Invisible to the eye but felt in the soul, lengths of gold stretched around her forming a cocoon to shelter her a little longer from her own mind.) 

The Choir hummed and la Tierra wrapped her presence around her little family, staving off the world around them for a little longer, but it wasn’t long before He came to speak with them. Though he may have been a younger spirit than she and the Choir, the River’s Son was draped in the same gold though his was inlaid in his skin. She knew who he was, how could she not? She was the one who built the mountains with his sacrifice, who shaped it into the Eden which had been Isabela’s home. But for all that this started with him, he was not hers, not the magic, nor the soul. 

She watched as he came closer stopping just a short distance away, eyes sad and face full of grief, and looked over the tangle of roots and vines. All three of them stood there for unaccountable amount of time, but just as the moon reached its peak he spoke, “This was never supposed to happen.” 

The Choir looked over, a soft look in her eyes, “No fue tu culpa, Niño del Rio. Nadia hubiera podido saber que esto iba a pasar.” 

A solemn silence permeated the area until he spoke again this time to the thus far silent being, “Her mente is fracturing Madre Tierra and I fear that she will be lost to her memories. My ieta was supposed grow up happy. Not in pain.” 

It was the way he mentioned her memories that tipped both of the women off to something brewing in the golden intention of his mind. His gold was not as bright as their Amor’s, but the way it roiled and reached out with loving strands was the same way Isabela’s used to be before she could hear them. La Tierra and the Choir looked at each other a silent conversation between them. For all that he was the reason why they were a family of three and his sacrifice a catalyst to their situation, la Tierra was hesitant to hear him. But he looked so much like their Isa and for the love they had for her, she would allow him to voice his intentions. 

(Fragments grinding against each other, breaking further and further, a trap ready to spring come morning-) 

As she turned to look at him, eyes a dark green, she regarded him and bid him to speak, “Habla plenamente, Hijo del Rio. Digame lo que estas insinuando.” 

He swallowed the lump in his throat and kept his eyes on his grand-daughter, avoiding the eyes of green and gold so much older than he, “I’m afraid that my Alma is no longer the woman who I loved anymore. She took our treasure, our miracles, and twisted them to her whims.” The Son breathed in sharply and spun around just as quickly to face them, eyes to the leafy jungle floor, “I may not have been able to save Isabela from what happened then, but I can give her a new life.” 

Eyes the color of the river he fell into as he was cut down looked at them, “Her memories are harming her, but if they are taken away then she could live happily.” 

(Fragments put back together, not fully but still together, their sharp edges cutting the hands that try to fix them-) 

“Entiendes lo que sugieres, si?” Eyes the color of gold looked at her from where their owner kneeled at Isabela’s head, “Al hacer esto tendríamos que quitar toda memoria de su vida pasada.” 

The decision was easy to make: lose Isa to her mind or give her a new life and a new start? 

Was there ever really any choice? Even if the River's Son hadn’t suggested it, the likelihood that they would have had to do this eventually was almost absolute. Isabela was a child who had suffered a form of torture that no person sound of mind would have even thought about inflicting on someone so young. La Tierra knew that this was the only way to give Isa a chance to truly live as she should have, so even as her heart weighed heavy in her chest, she looked into the Choir’s, the Jungle’s, eyes and resolutely nodded her head.  

“Estoy segura.” 

(Molten, golden metal poured into the cracks, binding the edges. Veins revealing themselves as the liquid metal reaches the broke places unable to be touched by even the most skilled mortal hands.) 

 It was easy for beings like them, the great power within them capable of raising mountains and trapping villages, truly what the myths speak of. All the Choir and la Tierra did, golden and green eyes burning in the dark, was each lay a hand on the heart and the head. As they kneeled down it became so clear how affected their Isa had been by the events leading up to this moment. 

Were there should have been a layer of softness that came with childhood, there was a gaunt cheek and where they should have had to press harder down to feel bone, they readily felt her ribs. It had been only a week of hiding within that dark room held together by failing magic, but this? This was damage was the kind that took longer to appear. They had been unable to do anything before now, the golden ropes preventing them from interfering so much due to the ties being strong, but in breaking apart from her family, Isabela had allowed them this opportunity. 

To live here in the world where their claim was stronger than the sacrifice she would change, mortal and Others would be able to see how much she was theirs and in turn, how much they were hers. As she built up and weaved her power into the form she needed, she leaned down, kissed Isa’s cheek, and whispered, “Que tengas sueños buenos, Amor. Cuando despiertes las estrellas te saludaran.” 

The Jungle echoed her sentiment, laying a hand on Isa’s forehead and then all at once everything turned gold. 

(Jagged teeth smoothed down and softened for little hands to touch, memories fading completely, the hurt swept away in a torrent of warmth.) 

The action took seconds, minutes, hours, but when it was done the earth split open, the Choir hopping inside the cradle, and Isabela's slumbering body was pulled into the primordial womb lined with soft leaves. Ever so slowly the roots and vines carried her within, wrapping around her until no limb was left without a plant winding itself around it and when she was laid at the center, the Choir curling around her, the earth closed itself up over them leaving no sign as to what had happened. 

The Son stared at the spot where a miracle had occurred not ten minutes before and his shoulders slumped, his face falling, and sad eyes turning sadder as he realized that what needed to happen was done. His- No, Isabela would have a chance to live and thrive under the watchful eye of her protectors and though it pained him that it had to be like this, he understood that his familia was a broken thing. Too long had his wife’s firm hand turned from guidance to punishment, and from that change had pain been born. 

Form behind him he felt more than heard the footsteps approaching him, the silent tremble of the ground heralding la Madre Tierra, “Dormirá por un tiempo, pero tendrá que ajustarse a su cuerpo otra vez.” 

She stood beside him, a fair bit taller than he, but for all that he was a spirit, la Madre Tierra was not like him. Not really. Having died brought perspective to how small he was in comparison to those who inhabited the land beyond the scope of human sight and how odd he was in comparison to them. He was mortal claimed by the river he was born beside and when he had passed on the claim allowed him to reside here allowing those who needed shelter to cross the more dangerous parts of the river, his father. 

A firm hand fell on his shoulder and guided him away, “How long is ‘some time’?” 

“No se. Todo depende de ella y que tan rápido el cambio es.” 

The silence that followed was solemn and accepting, nothing to be done other than letting the change take its course and allow time to pass. When they arrived at the river his father stood at its center, waiting for him to return. Before he stepped back into the water he turned to her, “Gracias. For taking care of her when I couldn’t.” 

She smiled at him, a faint thing ghosting across her lips before it vanished, “Es nuestro Pequeño Amor, traeríamos las estrellas a la tierra para ella.” 

The Son smiled at her and turned away, walking into the river to his father who cupped his face and brought him under his arm. As the two of them walked off to where their home was the deepest, the briefest glimpse of the river bank revealed it empty, the being who had been there having vanished. 

As is the way of the gods, they did as well.

[thoughtsfromanemptyheart]

well

the hermit reversed ; In a relationship reading, The Hermit Reversed can indicate unwelcome isolation. For example, one person may want to be alone or withdraw from the relationship, while the other wants to deepen the connection. You will need to respect each other’s request for space but also be there to support as appropriate. Alternatively, the idea of being on your own is so daunting and unappealing at this time that you do everything in your power to stay together. Despite the relationship‘s challenges, neither one of you wants to be apart from each other. It is almost too soon to be apart and you still both want to work things out together. If you have separated, then The Hermit Reversed may show that you are ready to explore a reconnection.

king of pentacles ; success growth money

meant to teach me ;

seven of swords ; betrayal and deception Lies and tricks may be abound with the 7 of Swords tarot love meaning. It may be important for you right now to remain cautious, especially if you’ve met someone new. You or someone in your romantic life can be dishonest right now, and in the worst possible cases, even unfaithful. If your instincts have been telling you that you are being lied to, you may need to confront this and have an honest discussion. If this has been you, consider the long term consequences of your actions. Even the kindest lie to spare feelings can grow into big problems should the root cause not be addressed. If you’re single, you may need to evaluate whether you’ve been too suspicious or untrusting of potential lovers, or on the other hand, been leading them on, or exaggerating who you are.

ace of swords ; In love and relationships, the Ace of Swords upright represents a time of clarity and breakthrough. If you are in a relationship, this card suggests that you may be facing challenges that require honest and open communication

General The Hanged Woman Reversed MeaningThe time will come when you will finally have to speak your truth. Feeling stuck and unfulfilled is increasing your awareness of what you do want. This suspension in time is actually a blessing in disguise!

The Wheel of Fortune reminds you that the wheel is always turning and life is in a state of constant change. If you’re going through a difficult time rest assured that it will get better from here. Good luck and good fortune will make their return in time. Similarly, if things are going well, know this, too, will change and life may return to ‘normal’ soon. This cycle shows why it is so important to cherish the blissful moments in your life and make the most of them while they are within reach – because in a flash they could be gone.

The Wheel of Fortune is also known as the wheel of karma and reminds you that ‘what goes around comes around.’ Be a kind and loving person to others, and they’ll be kind and loving to you. Be nasty and mean, and you will get nasty and mean turning back your way. So, if you want happiness and abundance, make sure you’re sending out that positive juju in kind. What you send out into the Universe will come back your way.

The Wheel of Fortune card asks you to be optimistic and have faith that the Universe will take care of your situation in the best way possible. Meditation and visualization can reinforce your intention to bring increased abundance, good fortune and prosperity to you. Your life is about to turn in more positive directions if you are willing to grow and expand. Keep your mind open to all kinds of synchronicities and signs from the Universe. The magic of fate and destiny is behind you, and miracles are happening.

Be open to the help of others, too, as guidance from both the physical and spiritual realms is supporting you along your journey. They want you to do well, so relish their support right now. Call on them any time you need it. You may also feel compelled to work with the archangels and ascended masters to support and guide you.

If you are someone who likes to have control and stability, then the Wheel of Fortune may come as a shock to the system. This Tarot card suggests that factors outside your control are influencing your situation. It is as though the Universe is dishing up whatever it pleases; it's unpredictable and unnerving. This is one of the challenging aspects of the Wheel of Fortune since no matter which way the Wheel turns, it is impossible to try to change it. You need to accept what is happening and adapt. Go with the flow!

Finally, the Wheel of Fortune can show a critical turning point in your life. Opportunities you could never imagine are suddenly available to you, and you have the chance to make a significant change in your life. While it may be unexpected and unfamiliar, see this as an invitation to turn things around and take an entirely new direction in your life. The more you tune in to your intuition and allow the Universe to guide you, the better the outcomes will be.

[chloeworships]

You’re calling is calling you!!! Pick up 📞 🤣

I wanted to highlight where it says “the Spirit of the LORD came upon him”. What does this mean? You will have power in the spiritual and the physical… more power.

Also read Deuteronomy 33. There are blessings written in that chapter. I have been seeing and hearing the name REUBAN.

Also M stands for Mother Mary who found favour with the LORD and sent AA Gabriel with a message to say she was CHOSEN to be the Blessed Mother of Christ.

Her role as Divine Mother must be remembered and in some denominations of Christianity, Mother Mary is barely mentioned except at Christmas time. I have had a visitation from the Blessed Virgin and wow 🤩 She is a symbol to women everywhere of piety, hope and to believe in ✨MIRACLES✨

Revelations 3 is what the LORD personally gave me and he is also giving it to you. Remember this promise whenever you second guess yourself or the crown becomes too heavy to wear. The LORD has seen all the good you’ve done and he’s opening up some new doors for you despite the LIES🚪

Remember it is God who chooses who’s up next 👑

The ❌ is because you’ll be a “target” just like the video describes 🤩 but also ❌ marks the spot of what? TREASURE!!! 💎 Which means you are valuable to the LORD and he take lives in exchange for yours. Make him PROUD 🥲

Keep the ways of the LORD and you’ll always be BLESSED‼️

Videos:

One correction…. The oil IS magical. Everything God does is MAGICAL. Please do not let the “new age” keep you from knowing who God truly is and declaring it and everything he does as such.

My Jesus is MAGICAL ✨He makes Houdini look like a nobody 🤣

[vidhyateckey12]

Benefits of Lavender Essential Oil for Skin Radiance

Introduction:

Are you prepared to appreciate lavender essential oil's calming beauty? With Moana Essentials, explore the world of natural skincare miracles! Not only is lavender a fragrant flower, but it's also a body and skin-beneficial powerhouse. Let's examine how this multipurpose essential oil can significantly improve your skincare regimen.

A timeless classic, lavender essential oil is appreciated for all of its health advantages. Its applications are as varied as they are successful, from relieving skin irritation to calming nerves. We at Moana Essentials recognize the value of utilizing nature's blessings for your health.

Why Lavender Essential Oil?

Lavender essential oil isn't just another pretty scent; it's a holistic healer for your skin. Its anti-inflammatory properties make it a soothing balm for irritated skin, calming redness and reducing swelling. Whether you're dealing with pesky blemishes or sunburn, lavender oil is your go-to solution.it's also use for hair growth.

Lavender Essential Oil Uses

Acne Fighter: Say goodbye to stubborn acne with lavender essential oil. Its antibacterial properties help combat acne-causing bacteria, while its calming scent relaxes your senses.

Scar Soother: Bid farewell to scars and marks with the healing touch of lavender oil. Its regenerative properties promote cell renewal, fading scars over time for a smoother complexion.

Stress Reliever: In today's fast-paced world, stress is inevitable. But with lavender essential oil, you can find solace in its calming aroma. Add a few drops to your bath or diffuse it in your room to unwind after a long day.

Sleep Aid: Tossing and turning at night? Lavender essential oil can help lull you into a peaceful slumber. Its sedative properties relax your mind and body, promoting deeper, more restful sleep.

Best Lavender Essential Oil

When it comes to lavender essential oil, quality matters. At Moana Essentials, we source only the finest lavender oil, ensuring maximum potency and purity. Our commitment to quality means you can trust our products to deliver the results you desire.

Experience the Bliss of Lavender

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Discover the endless possibilities of lavender essential oil and unveil the radiant, healthy skin you've always dreamed of. With Moana Essentials, beauty is more than skin deep—it's a way of life.

FAQS

1. What are the main benefits of lavender essential oil for skin?

Lavender essential oil offers a range of benefits for the skin, including soothing irritation, reducing redness and inflammation, balancing oil production, promoting healing of minor cuts and scrapes, and combating acne-causing bacteria. Its gentle yet effective nature makes it suitable for all skin types.

2. How can lavender essential oil help with stress relief?

The calming aroma of lavender essential oil has been shown to reduce stress and anxiety, promote relaxation, and improve sleep quality. Whether diffused in the air, added to bathwater, or applied to pulse points, lavender oil can create a tranquil environment conducive to emotional well-being.

3. Is lavender essential oil suitable for sensitive skin?

Yes, lavender essential oil is generally considered safe for sensitive skin when diluted properly. However, it's essential to perform a patch test before using it extensively and to dilute it with a carrier oil to minimize the risk of irritation.

4. Can lavender essential oil help with acne?

Yes, lavender essential oil's antibacterial properties make it effective in combating acne-causing bacteria, while its soothing properties help calm inflammation and redness associated with breakouts. It can be applied topically to affected areas or added to skincare products for added benefits.

5. How should I choose the best lavender essential oil?

When selecting lavender essential oil, opt for high-quality, organic products from reputable suppliers like Moana Essentials. Look for oils that are 100% pure and free from additives or synthetic fragrances to ensure maximum potency and effectiveness.

6. Can lavender essential oil be used for anti-aging purposes?

Yes, lavender essential oil is rich in antioxidants that help protect the skin from environmental stressors and promote cell regeneration, making it a valuable ally in anti-aging skincare routines. Regular use can help reduce the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles, revealing a more youthful complexion.

7. How should I incorporate lavender essential oil into my skincare routine?

Lavender essential oil can be added to a variety of skincare products, including cleansers, toners, serums, and moisturizers, to enhance their effectiveness. Alternatively, it can be diluted with a carrier oil like jojoba or sweet almond oil and applied directly to the skin or added to bathwater for a relaxing soak.

8. Are there any precautions I should take when using lavender essential oil?

While lavender essential oil is generally safe for topical use, it's essential to dilute it properly to avoid skin irritation, especially for those with sensitive skin. Additionally, pregnant or nursing women should consult with a healthcare professional before using essential oils. Always perform a patch test before using any new skincare product or essential oil extensively.

[kauma-kardia]

Ama Deteus + Deus

Character Intro:

One of the ones who was sent off-world as an infant. Her origins unknown, she grew up on a world riddled with poverty and exploitation by intergalactic mafioso under the powerful Atlas Ring syndicate. Her only saving graces were the entity she dubbed her Guardian Angel, ☥ Deus, and her best friend Ezekiel, who had her back at every turn.

Having grown up in an ordinary situaiton, unremarkable and taught to keep her head down if she wanted to survive, she spent most of her life drawing no ire and no acclaim. However, after turning 17, she realized her ability to manipulate life energy, gaining stamina and a power that she never knew until then. Confiding in only one friend of her abilities, she would go about trying to figure out more about herself and her guardian, without much success.

One day, Ama would attempt to save an individual targeted by the largest reaching organized crime syndicate known as the Atlas Ring. This girl who had always been beaten down by life, feeling empowered for the first time in her life, stepped up and unfortunately brought down the wrath of Atlus upon her and those who knew her. Ezekiel and Ama would leave their world, the only home she ever knew in order to stow away and escape to somehow find a place to hide out in the largest known cluster of known, habitable worlds. After years of traversing world to world, Ezekiel and Ama amassed a large number of allies, with which she shook each world loose of the influence of Atlas, which they dubbed 'Ether'.

There have been more than a few times where she needed saving from ☥ Deus. Certainly, as Ama had not been properly prepared for the extraordinary life as an intergalactic gang member, his influence was unavoidable. However, as a higher being whose priorities lied with preservation of Ama, he was a bit of a loose cannon and made operations more complicated than not. It wasn't until Ama was taken under Mila's wing and trained to better utilize her abilities that Deus, in one last encounter, tested Ama and whether or not she was ready to take all of his power.

After succeeding, he assimilated into Ama's being, leaving her as the sole Avatar of the powers that helped to create an entire world.

Additional Notes & Optional Lore:

Ama is originally from Di'Xyne, though she does not actually get there until the end of her journey. In all actuality, she doesn't consider it so. Her birth mother was forced to give birth to her and a number of others as part of National Powers of Di'Xyne's plan to colonize None of her siblings are aware of their status as siblings, but they certainly feel a connection upon meeting one another.

Ama is a Briotonist, one of those from a bloodline that directly traces back to one of the first Almæ Manifests, blessed by the the original deities of this world, the Inceptors.

Ama's descended from one of the Inceptors, The Prana, and first Brio Manifest, blessed directly by the Boundary Elemental, whose original name is Deus, a reflection of their dominion over Aether, the source of life itself. All sources of strength tie back to this natural force.

As Brio is tied to all facets of ones being, the nature of its manifest is heavily varied and solely dependent on its user. It's just as versatile as ones own imagination allows, and depending on how one sees the Aether or themselves in relation to the world around them, a Briotonist's innate potential can allow for what can only be explained as miracles. The biggest issue is that because it uses life energy itself as a base, it is inherently more dangerous to wield for both the user and more deadly as a force.

Ama has a number of siblings that each teach her a different use for aether on each world they visit, but also each has a misconception for how their power works. As a result it manifests differently for them. One is a witch believes its a type of magic. A signifier uses her spirit to buff her friends. One believes it to be some sort of psychic ability and applies it like force manipulation. One uses crystals to bring out the nature energy in materials and uses it like alchemy. One senses it like Chi and uses it to augment his physical ability. One sees it as a curse that lets him siphon off energy. Another as a blessing from a higher power and uses it to heal others. There is one that believes it is a sixth sense that lets her see things beyond her natural abilities.

One of the blades that Ezekiel has an innate tie to Ama's abilities, and she is able to bless it to draw in sources of energy, whether that be from enemies that are hit by the blade or the ability to put ones own into it from the side of the hilt.

She ends up using it for a time when she gets separated from Ether.

During the endgame of the story, she's vital to salvation of those on Di'Xyne as the last Elemental originally from that world.

She ends up leaving the Ether gang to Ezekiel after which, as she stays on Di'Xyne, as the part of her soul that is innately Deus had slowly been leading her back home all this time.

[lauvrehaus]

Padul Ong: A Cathartic Cultural Spectacle

Greetings, or should I say, "Maupay nga patron!" Welcome back to the LAUVRE. 

For today's exhibit, I want to take you on a trip and experience Borongan City's annial celebration of history, culture and faith. Get ready to see The Land of the Golden Sunrise as it beam in all its color through Padul ong Festival 2023!

The Legend

As an homage to Boronganons' Patroness Nuestra Señora de la Natividad, Borongan City celebrates the Padul-ong Festival every 8th day of September with a week-long variety of activities. According to Festivalscape (2022), Padul ong Festival is deeply rooted with Waraynons' history and religion.  Padul-ong in Waray-waray means to transport or deliver, a reflection of how the image of the Blessed Virgin Mary was inexplicably transported to the island from Portugal. Legend has it that a woman had the sacred image in a box as her luggage in her expedition form Portugal to the Philippines. However, the woman died during the voyage while her box arrived at Punta Maria in Samar to reveal the image to the townspeople.

The tale was later connected by the natives to the Lady in White who would frequently appear in the Hamorawon springs, but would suddenly disappear once noticed by people. Afterwards, the waters of Hamorawon started to possess miraculous healing properties. The Lady in White's "magical disappearance" matched with her remarkable fragrance, led the townspeople to believe that she is behind all the miracles happening in the locality. A collective decision was made to transport the image of the Virgin Mary to Borongan.

This feast consists of a variety of activities and this is my third time to experience them firsthand. I first saw Padul Ong Festival way back 2019, pre-pandemic in all its glory. It became dormant during the peak of COVID-19 in 2020 and 2021 wherein activities were restricted. 2022's celebration, which was the 30th staging of the feast, marked as the formal comeback of the celebration. And, this year, I saw more development when it comes to the events, participants, and overall vibe of the poblacion.

The Experience

It made me ecstatic seeing the city come alive. Though I was not able to attend to all the activities since our home is a 20-minute ride away from the "sawang", I am still in awe as I saw glimpses of the energy of the fiesta. 

On September 2nd, my siblings, my cousins and me went on an unplanned visit to the "peryahan". The place was crowded with adrenaline from familiar faces and strangers. The rides look overwhelming, like the ferris wheel and the vikings. It's not my first time to see them, it's just amazing how they mount these and thoroughly assure people about their safety without sacrificing the fun. 

We first rode the ferris wheel, which was my first time in years now. I shared my cart with a stranger who was very audible and vocal with his nerves. It kind of ruined the mood for me, but he lowkey made me laugh which lessened my nerves, too. Well, what can I say? We have different coping strategies, I guess.

We also tried their horror train, a not-so fitting name for the ride. I know I might sound bitter and kill-joy with the way I'm wording these phrases but it wasn't really giving horror. It was more of a stressful-schock train. Nonetheless, I still enjoyed every bit of scream and giggle I had. 

The spontaeneous short trip was well worth our money. And, we'll never get to see those rides again maybe till next year so why not just enjoy.

The Myth in Motion

Aside from the feast day itself, considered highlight of the celebration is the "Vesper day". Ever since my first experience in 2019, I have always made it a teeny-tiny tradition for myself to experience the series of events on September 7 in person. It is commenced by the traditional fluvial procession of the sacred image of the Blessed Virgin Mary after an early-morning mass in Punta Maria to the Rawis Port, a clear representation of the legend. Then, participating high schools take to the streets for a colorful dance parade that fills the poblacion with energy. Afterwards, the highly-anticipated contest of fhe reenactment exhibition of the tale happens at the City Town Plaza. This year, there were only three participating schools: Sta. Fe National High School, my junior high school Maypangdan National High school, and my alma mater Eastern Samar National Comprehensive High School. During the pre-pandemic contests, there were more than dive competing schools, but considering the dormancy from last year, the number of contestants this year is still a major upgrade.

I went to the City Plaza early on the morning of September 7 to excitingly watch the happenings. I also invited Crista, my classmate, to join me like a way to baptise her with how magical the festival is since she is new in Borongan. I also met some old schoolmates from MNHS and ESNCHS which brought pure joy to me. I was gagged with all the performances, seeing them dance with passion and emotion as they pay homage to the Patroness. The festivity was well represented with every unique story telling from each performance. SFNHS deservingly won first place but I just tend to lean towards MNHS because of my attachments with some of the performers whom I see as role models and friends. Even after they graduated high school and even if some of them are not of the same religion, they still dedicate their time and effort for their love of dance and contribution to the local culture. 

Aside from this, I am also proud to see school publications that I had been, and is currently part of, being a medium to tell stories of common folks who may come unknowingly but play such vital roles in the success of the event. I also saw a lot of foreign tourists and even settlers who were enjoying the fiesta. Padul-ong Festival became a unifying force for people of different walks of life, age, color, social status, religion, and background to just have fun and celebrate culture and devotion.

The Feast

On September 8th, the day of the fiesta which also falls on what is considered as Mama Mary's birthday, I was luckily invitied by my Grade 12 classmates to celebrate with them in their homes. As their class president, who am I to say no? Thank you Cha-Cha ang Angelica for joining me that day! And to Mariel, Ate Deanne, Andrew, Ian, and Carl, thanks for the food and the invites!

The Catharsis

Upon writing this entry, I realized how much of a cathartic experience it is for the City of Borongan to celebrate Padul Ong Festival this year. I know that might sound too exaggerated, but I can't seem to find any better word to explain it. I am delighted to see that our culture and arts are well preserved in the youth. The spectacles invite foreign people into our city which provide them an expedition of a lifetime. It doesn't matter if you believe in the tales, or if you have the same beliefs. We are doing this for the fun, the faith, the culture, and the future. May we continue to show the world our identity and hug visitors with our hospitality. We are starting to reclaim the joys that the pademic took away from us. The success of this year just makes me more excited for what's to come for the future Padul Ong Festival Celebrations. And I hope, by that time, you're all still with me.

With love,

From the LAUVRE.

Sources:

[henriediosa]

huwag banggitin iyang si bruno

this was the first Encanto translation that i finished! fun fact: i listened to the german soundtrack before the english one, so i didn't spoil my sisters when i wanted to sing it around the house. so there's probably some influence from that here as well.

my other encanto translations: (so far: what else can i do?, waiting on a miracle, and the family madrigal)

if you liked this and you would like to see more of it, you can leave me a tip and help support my writing through my ko-fi!

lyrics and an english back-translation under the cut.

[tiya pepa at (tiyo félix)]

'wag banggitin 'yang si bruno, no no no 'wag banggitin 'yang si bruno — pero

don't mention that bruno, no no no — but

nang ako'y ikinasal (nang kami'y ikinasal) kami'y naghahanda't walang harang sa kalangitan (langit, bawal harangan) siya'y dumating, may ngiting madilim (dumilim!) kaninong kwento ba iyan? (patawad, mi vida, sige!)

when i got married (when we got married) we were getting ready and nothing blocked out the heavens! (the heavens, it was forbidden to block them out) he arrived, with a dark smile (it got dark!) whose story is that, anyway? forgive me, mi vida, keep going!

"ate, parang uulan..." (ba't niya iyon sinabi?) hindi ko na napiligan (ilabas ang mga tabing!) bagyo sa isang kasalan (masaya naman pero ayan)

"big sister, it looks like it will rain..." (why did he say that?) i couldn't stop it anymore (bring out the screens/shades!) a hurricane at a wedding (it was fun/happy, but there you go)

'wag banggitin 'yang si bruno, no no no 'wag banggitin 'yang si bruno

[dolores]

huy, musmos pa lang ako, natutong siya’y iwasan umuungut-ungot, nagbubulung-bulungan meron siyang tunog parang buhanging binuhos: ts, ts, ts

hey, i was just little when i learned to avoid him (he was) always mumbling and whispering he has a sound like poured sand: ts, ts, ts

mahirap nga dalhin ang kanyang dala hindi nabiyayaan sa kanyang biyaya maging sila abuela'y di makatalós ikaw ba tatalós?

what he carried was truly hard to carry he wasn't blessed by his blessing not even abuela and the others could understand could you understand?

[camilo]

higanteng naka-berdeng bumubulaga mula sa kadiliman, sanlibong daga na nginungutngot ang bawat bangungot

a giant in green playing peek-a-boo from the darkness, a thousand rats who nibble on each nightmare

'wag banggitin 'yang si bruno, no no no 'wag banggitin 'yang si bruno ('wag banggitin 'yang si bruno)

don't mention that bruno, no no no

[taong-bayan]

sabi niyang di tatagal ang aking isda (no, no) sabi niyang kalaunan ako'y tataba (no, no) sabi nya na kakalbo ako, nangyari na nga (no, no) hindi lang hula ang mga hula niya!

he said my fish wouldn't last long he said someday i would be fat he said i'd be bald, and it's already happened they're not just guesses, his prophecies!

[isabela]

sabi niya sa akin pagiging marikit magiging buhay ko sabi niya sa akin ang aking mahika'y lalong lalago

he said to me that my life will become about being pretty he said to me that my magic will blossom even further

[abuela]

parating na si señor guzman

señor guzman is on the way

[dolores]

sabi niya sa akin ang aking iibigi'y may ibang katipan! naririnig ko pa rin

he said to me that the one i will love is betrothed to another! i can still hear (him)

[isabela at (dolores)]

ikaw, wag kang dumagdag sa gulo (parang dining ko pa rin, dining ko pa rin!)

you, don't add to the mess/confusion (as if i can still hear (him), i can still hear (him)!)

[mirabel]

oo, bruno, ayan na nga, si bruno! anong nangyari kay tiyo bruno? totoo ba'ng alam ninyo kay bruno?

yeah, bruno, that's right, bruno! what happened to uncle bruno? is what you know about bruno true?

[camilo]

isabela, 'yung nobyo mo!

isabela, it's your boyfriend!

[lahat]

hain na!

let's set the table!

[lahat kumakanta ng sabay-sabay]

[isabela]

sabi niya sa akin pagiging marikit magiging buhay ko sabi niya sa akin ang aking mahika'y lalong kikinang, ayos lang!

he told me that my life will become about being pretty he told me that my power would shine even more, and that's fine!

[dolores]

sabi niya sa akin huwag munang umibig may ibang katipan, katipan ayos lang, ayos lang, ayos lang, ayos lang, ayos lang!

he said to me don't fall in love yet there's another betrothed, betrothed and that's fine, that's fine, that's fine, that's fine, that's fine!

[lahat]

andyan na siya!

he's here!

[mirabel]

ba't ko binanggit iyang si bruno? dapat 'di ko binanggit si bruno!

why did i mention that bruno? i shouldn't have mentioned bruno!