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dikanamai · 2 years

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“Sana, sana, colita de rana”, an Encanto fic

Some days ago, I saw this beautiful fanart by @melonsharks and a little idea for a quick fic about young Alma and little Bruno popped up in my mind, so I couldn't resist. The last fic left me eager to write from Alma's PoV, and this has been the better opportunity to do it. This one had potential to be a two-parts fic, first half set in the past and second half set in the end of the movie, when Alma and Bruno reunite. But finally I decided to write only the part in the past, to not mess up the order of the rest of my fics (I'm writing them chronologically, yes, I'm that kind of person XD).

Hope you enjoy the young, broken widow, finding comfort on her lovely kids :’)

Title: Sana, sana, colita de rana Characters: Alma and Bruno Word Count: 4.179 Rating: G Warnings/Spoilers: none, if you've watched the movie. This is a standalone, though it shares the same background/headcanons as the rest of my fics, since all of them are part of the same 'universe'. Anyway, this one takes place when the triplets are three/four years old, so it's not necessary to read the others first. Summary: During those first years setting up the Encanto, it was easier for Alma to keep busy. There were a lot of things to do and no time to think. But as the town grew bigger and the life got steadier, her mind started to waver. Sometimes, she could conceal it. Other times, she couldn't. Especially at night, when she couldn't take refuge in the town's hustle and constant responsibilities, and found herself alone at home, taking care of her children on her own as the widowed mother she was, while seeing the ghost of the love of her life in their little faces.

(Friendly reminder that English is not my mother tongue, and I'm not used to write fiction in this language. So this text is probably closer to Spanglish. Anyway, I hope it's readable enough and you can enjoy it. Thanks for your time!)

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Alma thought she was going to collapse in relief when she lay Pepa down in her cradle and her daughter didn't wake up. She waited anyway, holding her breath and counting to ten; but the baby remained asleep, her little chest moving at the rhythm marked by her deep breathing. And she let out a slow, deep exhalation, while a wave of exhaustion shook her from head to toe and made her legs waver.

Putting the triplets to sleep at night was always complicated. Julieta had been a sleepy child since birth, she was by far the least problematic; if she was tired, she just lay down on her own and fell asleep almost immediately, whenever and wherever she was. Bruno wasn't as easy as his sister; it took him a lot of time to fall asleep, but he was completely fine with lying quietly on his cradle if he knew it was bed time, and he stayed there playing with his stuffed animal —or the blanket, or his own feet— while Casita rocked him gently with the floor boards till he finally passed out. But Pepa had developed a visceral aversion to go to bed. The more tired she was, the more restless she got, leading to horrible tantrums in which she declaimed stubbornly she didn't want to sleep, even if she could barely keep her eyes open. And that was the real problem. Because as easy sleeper as Julieta was, if something would interrupt her sleep, she would wake up turned into a rabid demon who would give them all hell. And if Bruno would see his sisters bawling, he would start bawling too, of course.

That forced Alma to take Pepa out of the nursery every night and paced her up and down the gallery, rocking her and humming. She always calmed down in her arms and curled up against her chest, but the moment she noticed her mother was heading to the nursery again, she reactivated in a blink.

"I not wanna sleep," she whimpered every time, so sleepy that Alma would've laughed if she wasn't herself on the verge of a breakdown for the lack of rest. "Not wanna, not wanna sleep, not wanna…"

"No, no, mi amor, we're not going to sleep, w-we— we're going to dance!" And then she twirled and danced slowly along the gallery, holding her daughter closer till she relaxed. "See? We dance, you love dance, don't you?"

Sometimes, the floor tiles waved around them, matching the rhythm, and Alma knew Casita was dancing with them in the moonlight. Then, the pressure of the tears was almost unbearable, because she could feel him there, she could imagine him there, and she felt more accompanied and lonelier than ever.

She didn't know what to do with that feeling of he being without being. Almost four years, and she still had no idea of what to do with that.

Alma only could take Pepa again to the nursery when the girl was totally unconscious, feeling like a dead weight on her arms. And that was getting more and more complicated too, because Pepa was growing fast and she was already the biggest of the triplets. Her arms, already sore by her daily work in town, ached so much when she could finally put her down that they shook slightly, feeling numb. She needed to find a solution for this.

But it was enough for today. Enough problems resolved, enough solutions found, enough maternal duties accomplished. Her babies were sleeping at last, the house was quiet, everything was fine. So she sighed heavily and stepped back, reaching for the rocking chair to rest a bit and catch her breath before heading to bed too.

She had just sat down when Bruno started shifting in his cradle and sat up slowly, with a weak whimper. Her heart skipped a beat and she leaped up from the rocker so fast to rush to his side that she almost tripped.

"Bruno!" she whispered as low as she could. "What happen, mi amor?"

He had stood up, clinging to the cradle's bars, and sounded about to cry. "It hurts… It hurts, mami…"

Alma gasped in alarm and palpated quickly his little arms, his neck, his belly, his legs, searching for something sore. But the boy didn't even flinch. "W-what? What's wrong?" He just whimpered again, still half asleep, and she felt her nerves twitching. "B-Bruno, don't lie to mami, ok? It's not funny to say something's wrong if you're fine. I get worried."

"But it hurts…"

"Where? Where does it hurt?"

And then he touched his head. "It hurts…"

Her shoulders dropped and she exhaled again in relief, understanding. "Alright, mi vida. Come here." Though her arms were still trembling a bit, she lifted his baby boy and held him to her chest, patting his back gently. "Did you have a bad dream? Is that so?"

Bruno buried his face on her neck, putting his arms around it to cuddle her, and nodded. With another sigh, Alma bent over —Casita lifted the cradle a bit for her, but damn, her back was killing her anyway— and took the blanket to keep him warm, before going back to the rocking chair and sitting again carefully. She waited in tension, as before, and didn't exhale till she could confirm the room was still quiet. Once she fell asleep, Pepa was an extremely heavy sleeper; so if Julieta was remaining calm too, there was nothing to fear. There was no need to fret.

Everything was fine.

"Don't worry, mijito," she whispered softly, pressing a kiss to his head. "Mami is here. Don't worry." And she started caressing his curls and rocking them to soothe him. "Sana, sana, colita de rana… Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana…"

Bruno relaxed in her arms with a deep sigh and Alma tightened the hug, and sank in the rocking chair, and closed her eyes, enjoying the rest for her limbs, the warmth of her baby and the quietness of the night, till she felt finally able to relax too.

Almost four years, and she still couldn't get used to let her guard down. Her body had forgotten how to do that. She often wondered if she would be back to her former self someday, though she already knew the answer. There wasn't any former self to go back to. Not anymore. That woman was dead and buried out there, beyond the mountains, by a river. In the Encanto, there was only room for doña Alma, a weird way to address a humble woman who wasn't even on her thirties yet. It made her feel older and older every time she heard it from the mouth of some fellow, as if her soul was withering far faster than her flesh.

Doña Alma, what should we do with this? Doña Alma, what should we do with that?

Most of the times, doña Alma didn't have the slightest damn idea either.

Most of the times, doña Alma just wished she could say 'I don't give a damn'.

But she couldn't, of course, because she did care. She honestly cared. She cared so much that it burned her from the inside and impelled her to help with everything, worry about everything, resolve everything and protect everything. Everything but herself. Because doña Alma wasn't a person anymore. Doña Alma was a force of nature that never rested and never stopped.

The only problem was it wasn't true.

Deep inside, doña Alma was just a broken child.

"Sana, sana, colita de rana… Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana…"

Sometimes, she thought it was actually amazing she hadn't lost her mind. She had been close to, at the very beginning, when they had just arrived and had to start from scratch. All those endless days wearing their hands out, working and working on making that place inhabitable, all together side by side, chopping trees, farming, building the town house by house, under the constant rain. Casita had been the shelter of all the kids and elders of the Encanto and they all had taken care of each other. Alma could have never survived without the help of the other mothers, when she found herself overcome by motherhood, unable to feed three babies at once because she didn't produce enough milk, fretting constantly because her babies were so small, too small, and they didn't grow up at the same pace as other babies, and what if any of them got ill? What if she lost one of her triplets? The sheer dread provoked by that possibility had kept her on edge for months.

"Don't worry about the kids," Margarita had told her once. "You carried the three of them inside together and they were born prematurely, of course they're small! But they'll grow up and they'll be fine. They're actual living miracles! They're fighters! Have you looked at them?"

And Alma had kept looking at them every moment of every day for the last four years. Do it for them, she had repeated herself, every time she had felt her will wavering. Do it for them. Do it for them. And she had kept going, while they created a home together. She had kept caring, helping, resolving and protecting, while the other mothers took turns to help her breastfeed the triplets and the elders helped her to look after them. She had kept being doña Alma just for them. For them to have a safe home. For them to have the opportunity to grow up. For them to live.

It had been worth it. Every time she had thought she couldn't take it anymore, her babies had rewarded her with their first smiles, their first laughs, their first words, their first steps. They had gained height and weight, they were healthy, they were fine. Pepa had been the first one to stand on her feet and now she loved running under the rain, with that infectious laughter that lighten up her soul. Julieta had been the first one to speak and now she was always warming her heart with her kindness and endearing innocence. And Bruno… Bruno was still the smallest, the quietest, the shyest of the triplets, the one whose health worried her the most. But he was incredibly sharp for his age. He looked into the people's eyes and noticed a lot of things, and Alma knew his fragile body held a powerful mind, so witty, so charming, that she couldn't believe how lucky she was. She was so, so lucky. It was a miracle her kids had turned into such wonderful beings.

They were her gifts. Their gifts, because she could see him in them too, still alive in hundreds of little details.

She could see him everywhere.

Perhaps that was the problem.

"Sana, sana, colita de rana… Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana…"

Now that the worst part had passed and all of them had managed to settle down more or less properly, and daily life had found its own smooth, regular routine —away from the initial urgency that had kept her moving without thinking—, unwanted memories had started creeping into her mind. Especially at the end of the day, when she couldn't take refuge in the town's hustle and constant responsibilities, and found herself alone at home, taking care of her children on her own as the widowed mother she was.

Widow. What a hateful word at such a young age. When Pepa said something so funny that made her burst into laughter, when Julieta healed her pains with her caring words, when Bruno amazed her with his reasonings, or even when they got in trouble and she had to give them a good talking to… there was no one there to share it with. She was alone, deep, utterly alone, in her joy and in her sorrow. And that weight was getting heavier and heavier, crushing her down, and Alma was running out of ideas to hold herself together. She didn't know what to do, what to focus on to stop thinking. To stop remembering. To stop mourning.

What should she do?

Her mind was falling apart.

"Sana, sana, colita de rana…"

Alma was almost dozing off when Bruno shifted on her arms and straightened up to look at her face to face. She interrupted her soothing mantra while the boy rubbed his eyes sleepily. And when he leaned again to nuzzle her cheek, she kissed his forehead lovingly.

"Are you better?"

Bruno nodded, sniffing. "Sorry…"

"You don't have to apologize, mi vida. Bad dreams are awful things, aren't they?"

He nodded again, and pressed his forehead to hers. "You have bad dreams?"

"Many times," Alma smiled sadly.

"But you're brave."

She snorted a laugh at that. "Oh, bad dreams don't care about bravery. They sting anybody, like mosquitos." She caressed him one more time, brushing gently the curls off his face. "Do you remember what it was about?"

Bruno shook his head. But he pressed his lips together and rubbed one of his eyes again, looking distressed, before mumbling, "Paula Andrea scolded us today."

"I know." Alma gave him a significant look, raising one eyebrow. "Because you were playing where you shouldn't, right? And mami has told you all a thousand times to not go there, because it's dangerous. We talked it out at dinner, didn't we?"

He sniffed a bit louder and seemed to hesitate, but finally added, "She said if we not behave, bad people will come to take us away."

Alma froze. She stared at him, lips parted in mild shock, not grasping at first why that had made her stomach twisted as if someone had kicked it. She had to clear her throat to recover her voice, and it took her a great effort to sound firm. "That's— That's what she said? That's why you three were so quiet tonight?"

Bruno seemed about to pout and rubbed his eyes one more time. "She said it before. Many times. Pepi thinks bad people will come to take us if we fall asleep."

Alma inhaled sharply and gritted her teeth. So that was the problem. She really appreciated Paula Andrea's help watching the kids, she was a good and well-meaning woman, but right now Alma was feeling like punching her so bad.

"No one will come to take you away, Brunito," she said softly to her son, wrapping him a bit tighter in her arms. "Nor you nor your sisters. Mami would never allow it. Casita would never allow it. Your—" She stopped, biting back those words and swallowing them. Your father would never allow it. Sighing, she touched his forehead with hers again. "You're safe here. I promise. This is why mami works so hard, don't you know?"

"You grow mountains."

Alma snorted another soft laugh, a bit bittersweet this time, since that was one of the most popular sayings in town. Doña Alma can grow mountains. Ay, doña Alma, doña Alma… What an extraordinary human being that doña Alma seemed to be. "Yes, I grow them, and I'll grow whatever was needed to keep bad people away from us."

"And bad dreams?"

"Hm, that's a bit more complicated, but I'll think about it."

"I've got an idea!"

"Oh? Tell me, please, I'm curious."

"We make a trap."

"You mean, like a rat trap?"

Bruno paused, covering his mouth with a hand and frowning in concentration, making his usual 'thinking face'. Alma had to press her lips together to remain serious. She loved that expression, and all of her son's hilarious mannerisms.

"No, not like that," he finally answered. "Like a spider web. Because bad dreams float in the air, like mosquitos. So they stick in the web!" And he gave a clap, as to illustrate his words.

Alma choked with a pffff and bit her lip to shush herself, shaking by the suppressed laughter. "T-that's actually super clever, mi amor. I think it could work very well!" He smiled widely, and she couldn't help but cup his cheek with her hand and shower his face in kisses till he started giggling. "Ok, we'll make traps! We can do them tomorrow, what do you think? We'll tell Pepi and Juli, and we'll make them together for you three."

"You too," he replied, nuzzling her again. "We'll make one for you. So you not have bad dreams anymore."

A wave of deep emotion almost drowned her, and she felt the sting of tears, and her lips trembled so much she could barely manage to smile. "That would be great, corazón. I would love it." She kissed him again, a long, moved kiss pressed to his forehead, while she tried desperately to hold herself together. But Bruno cuddled her, with that sweet, tender love of babies, and Alma couldn't hold anymore the weak laugh and the quavering words. "You would have been his joy, mijito. He would've loved your ideas. You would've made him laugh so much…"

"Who?"

Her heart cracked at the question. She shouldn't have brought him up. But now it was too late, so she answered anyway.

"Papá." Alma made an effort to keep in place her smile, though she could barely bear the lump on her throat. "Your papi, Brunito. I wish… I wish he could be here to meet you."

"But papi is here," he yawned.

The air got caught on her lungs. She gaped at him, eyes wide open, without even daring breathe. "W-what?"

Bruno titled his head, confused, and rubbed one of his eyes again. "Papi is here. I see him."

"You— What are— W-where?"

"In the stairs."

It took her a ridiculous amount of time to realize he was talking about the painting hung in the stairway, and then she choked on another wavering laugh that almost sounded like a repressed sob. She passed a hand over her face in an attempt to recompose herself, but his words had startled her so much that something seemed to have crumbled inside her. "Oh, mi vida, t-that's— that's just a painting, b-but papi used to be a real person too, just like you and me…"

"Like me?"

"Y-yes, yes," Alma nodded, tittering, shaking more and more any second. "H-he was— he was as funny as Pepi, you know, and as caring as Juli, and as smart as you, you all have a lot of him, h-he was bright and warm and brave, a-and he always knew what to do, he always… he…"

Her voice faded, though her mouth kept moving, even if she was unable to utter the words. There was too much to say, too much, but also too much to silence, buried deep inside her heart. Bruno was staring at her with big, round eyes, so she bit her tongue till it hurt to shut up. Not in front of the children, doña Alma snapped from the back of her mind, and she tried, she tried so hard, closing her eyes tightly, till she felt the little hand of her son on her face.

"Mami, why you cry?"

Alma gasped and shook her head, forcing herself to laugh again and failing miserably. She took his hand to kiss his palm and then wiped her cheeks quickly, though it didn't help at all to stop the tears. "I-I don't know, mi amor. Mami is so tired today, and so sleepy, a-and sometimes people cry when they're sleepy, right?"

"Like Pepi?"

"Yes, like Pepi."

Bruno seemed concerned. "You not look like Pepi," he declared, and Alma held her breath when he touched her face again. "You're hurt?"

Alma kept looking him in the eye, paralyzed for a second. Not in front of the children, don't you dare. But the tears kept falling. She felt like a glass so filled to the brim that ends up overflowing. And she couldn't stop. She couldn't. So she smiled for him, this time without even bothering to try to conceal her sorrow.

"Sí, Bruno," she babbled. "I think I'm hurt too. Sometimes it hurts so, so much."

He pursed his lips and then caressed her cheek and patted it lovingly.

"Sana, sana, colita de rana," he recited, with his tiny voice, "si no sana hoy, sanará mañana."

It was too much.

For a dreadful moment, she felt like bawling. She wanted to scream and cry till tearing her throat up. She wanted to curl on the floor and bawl till there was nothing left inside her and her heart stopped beating, to see if that could make that pain disappear once and for all. She wanted to die and be buried at the river to be by his side again, and rot there with him and their dreams, away from everything and everyone, to stop thinking, to stop feeling, to stop suffering.

But then the boards under her feet waved, waking her up, and Bruno patted her cheek softly again (Sana, sana, colita de rana), bringing her back to her senses. And she forced herself to keep her eyes fixed on her baby boy to clear the mist of her mind. All those things were something the former Alma would have done. That weak, dumb, helpless Alma who hadn't been able to do anything back then to save him. She wasn't that woman anymore. Doña Alma could grow mountains. Doña Alma could and would do anything to keep her loved ones safe and sound. Doña Alma was strong and capable and reliable.

Doña Alma couldn't afford time for grief.

So she swallowed hard all those feelings one more time. She pushed them deep, deep down, till the pressure and the tension seemed to ease. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and repeated it twice, five, ten times, soothing her pulse bit by bit. And her baby rewarded her efforts taking her face on his hands and nuzzling tenderly against it again.

"You better?" he asked quietly, when she managed to calm down.

This time, smiling was a bit less difficult. "Yes, amor. I'm better. Thank you so much." Bruno looked very proud of himself and Alma's smile grew a bit wider, a bit softer. "You're very good making that spell work. Are you magical?"

And her son gave her one of those incredible smiles, half shy, half mischievous, before saying smugly, "I do magic, like Casita."

Alma laughed. She could laughed at last, a quiet but far more honest laugh, and she held him closer and tighter, as if right now he was the board that was saving her from sinking and drowning. Do it for them, she reminded herself, her forehead touching his one more time. Do it for them, Alma.

"Do you know how much mami loves you, Bruno?" she whispered to him; and then he straightened up suddenly and stretched out his arms full length to the sides, as if trying to measure something very big, making her laugh again. "Yes! That much and a bit more."

She wrapped him in her arms and Bruno snuggled up against her, resting his head on her chest, in that cuddly, loving way that said he was feeling comfy enough to go back to sleep. With a last kiss, Alma tucked the blanket around him, rested her cheek on his curls and sighed, letting his warmth melt slowly the cold of her heart.

"Let's dream together, want to?" she mumbled, patting his back softly. "Something good and happy, to keep bad dreams away tonight. I'll be here to protect you. What do you want to dream about?"

"Animals," he yawned again.

"Like birdies or kitties?"

"I like mice," Bruno answered, snuggled a bit more. "Mice are cute."

She chuckled and nodded. "You're right, they're cute. And I happen to know the most extraordinary story about mice, you know? The story of doña Catalina Ratónez, and her huuuge family of magical mice, where everyone had a special gift…"

Casita shook the floor boards to turn over a basket and move it towards them, for Alma to put her feet on it and get more comfortable. As she went on with her tale, the floor boards rocked them both gently. She focused on the little body of Bruno curled up on her arms, on Julieta's soft snores, on Pepa's deep breath, on their room's decorated walls lit by the warm light of a candle, on the smell of rain that came from outside the window and the rumor of the raindrops against the roof over their heads. She focused on their home and the life they're starting to live, and let the immediate present swept the past under the rug.

It would heal. If it didn't heal today, it would heal tomorrow. Or the day after tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. It didn't matter. Someday, eventually, it would heal. Right?

In the meantime, doña Alma could stay in charge, taking care of everything, gulping as many tears as necessary to keep her kids dry. And they would be fine.

They would be fine.

#encanto #disney encanto #encanto fanfics #my art #alma madrigal #bruno madrigal #ok this broke me at many levels but it means a lot for me #I miss my little nephew so so much #hardest time in my life: trying to supress the tears at a baby's gesture of tender love when you know something's going really really bad #I lived it this last summer #and I put all those feelings here in Alma #I love her and I love to write from her pov T_T

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marmolady · 5 years

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Broken Chains: Epilogue

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f),

Summary: Part 8: Post-ending (Endless ending). Epilogue... June 2023

Word Count: 2194

Previous chapter

It’s finally finished.

June 2023

Taylor blinked awake, her face against Estela’s chest, which rose and fell to the sound of soft, contented snores. After all this time, she could not get over the utter blessing it was to be there with her. She ran her hand over her wife’s tight and rounded belly, feeling for movement within. A fluttering bump against her palm made her heart soar. This was it… paradise.

“Good morning, baby…” she whispered, then looked up as she felt Estela stirring. “And good morning, mama.”

Without opening her eyes, Estela leaned down and kissed the top of Taylor’s head. “Morning…”

It was six years to the day since they first set foot on La Huerta, and as per tradition, the anniversary marked the first day of the annual reunion. Everyone had remained close, even having finished college and gone in different directions, but the yearly gathering on the island was always a great event. It was the third such reunion, and even in that short time, much had changed. Grace and Aleister, now with their infant son Reginald in tow, had taken over responsibility for The Celestial, and had seen to it that the resort was taken down. In its place, an impressive Vaanti-built structure now stood-- after the still-standing Elysian, the largest building on the island. Affectionately known as ‘The New Celestial’, it housed private offices for both Aleister and Estela, an art studio for Grace, a sprawling laboratory, and cosy accommodations and facilities specifically for times like these when the Catalysts were in residence. The contents of Rourke’s jaw-dropping library had been saved, along with countless items that had taken significance to many of those residing on La Huerta. Oftentimes, The New Celestial hosted Vaanti visitors from all corners of the island, but when the reunion came along, space was happily and respectfully given. With most of the gang flying in imminently, Aleister and Grace been busy with preparations, assisted by Taylor, Estela and Diego, who were semi-permanent La Huerta residents themselves.

In their triple-storey shack in the old Catalyst village, a little house that was now truly a home, with photographs of loved ones and treasured memories looking down from the walls, Taylor and Estela got ready side by side. Packing a bag for the reunion was par for the course, but this time there were a few extra items put away in anticipation of the birth that could happen at any time. They wouldn’t be going far but… just in case.

Briefly rummaging through a drawer, Estela pulled out an envelope. “Taylor… happy birthday, mi alma!”

Taylor laughed and took it from her. “Oh, you shouldn’t have! Especially because it’s not actually my birthday.” She opened the envelope and pulled out a colourful greeting card. “And I am not turning six.”

Giggling, Estela put her arms around her and kissed her temple. “Look, it’s even got a badge for you to wear.”

“I am six,” Taylor read. “Great. I wonder how many of these I’ll get this year.” She opened the card. “At least you didn’t write a message wildly inappropriate for the card’s clearly intended audience. Like last year.” With a snigger, she hugged Estela back. Those six years had been a ride, and she was eternally grateful for every one. Joking aside, it was always a special occasion to reflect; six years since she’d come to being, six years since she met the eleven most wonderful people she’d ever know. Six years since she first met the gaze of the woman who would forever own her heart. “I love you, Estela.”

“I love you too. Always, always.”

While Taylor rushed around, gathering all the home-grown fruits she’d promised to bring for Raj, Estela found herself left behind, slowed down by the extra weight and a painful back. She couldn’t wait to hold her baby… and neither could she wait to have her body back to normal.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked, a little frustrated.

A little smile came to Taylor’s face as she took Estela’s hand and pulled her into her waiting arms. “Maybe, just one thing…” She wove a hand up to Estela’s chin and gently drew her in for a warm and tender kiss.

“That’s exactly what I was hoping for.”

__________________________

The New Celestial’s pool seemed to shimmer in the midday sun, the cerulean waters disturbed by the frolics of friends reunited once more. A big lunch cook-up and a lazy afternoon was tradition by this point, and the air was already filled with the most delicious scents as Raj got down to business. Naturally, Quinn had brought along a great selection of cupcakes for dessert, and already three or four had been snaffled by those who simply couldn’t wait.

At the shallow end of the pool, Aleister sat with little Reggie on his knee, kicking his tiny legs merrily as he babbled to himself.

Pulling faces, Quinn reached over to tickle the baby’s tummy, and beamed as Reggie gave a delighted squeal. “Oh Al, he’s gotten so big! Haven’t you Mister Reginald?”

Pride was clear on the father’s face as he held out his boy to splash around on his belly. “He’s so like Grace; bright… inquisitive…”

“Food’s out, doodlebugs!” came a holler from the central table.

Grace crouched beside the pool and took Reggie in her arms. “Come on, little man; let’s get you dried up and ready for some yummy lunch!” She leant to give Aleister a kiss. “Isn’t he doing so well? I thought he’d be shy with so many people.”

“I don’t think he’s quite sure of Craig still, but to be quite frank, that troglodyte scares us all.”

“Oh, you! We’ll save you a seat.”

Amid the chattering and scraping of chairs, Sean rose to his feet to begin the celebration.

“Well,” he said, “we’re all here, despite the ongoing concerns for the competency of our beloved pilot.”

His feet up on the table, Jake just shrugged it off. “Laugh it up, assholes. Without me, you’ll be walkin’ home.”

“So,” Sean continued, “I think it’s time for the birthday girl’s traditional speech to get us started.”

A party hat lopsided on her head, Taylor gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “It’s not my birthday, peeps.”

“Didn’t stop ya from accepting that three-tier cake last year, Princess…”

“Speech! Speech!”

Resigned to her fate, Taylor stood up. “All right, here goes.” For her show of resistance, she actually loved this… it was almost like old times, and she lived for it. “So, uh, this has been a big one. In so many, so many ways. You think that you survive the end of the world, everything after that’s gotta be a cakewalk. But life is hard. Some days you wake up, and it feels like everything you ever dreamed of will always be just out of reach.” Her voice trembled, but she recovered herself. “There’s not one of you who didn’t have to put up with a blubbering phone call from me this past year; you comforted us when we lost hope, and celebrated right along with us when hoping and trying finally paid off.” Automatically, she looked over to Estela who glanced up from stroking her bump to meet Taylor’s eyes with a gaze overflowing with affection. She had to take a moment before continuing, wiping her eyes. “Michelle… truly a queen. I honestly don’t know how you do it--“

“Coffee. So much coffee.”

“--but you managed to kick the third year of med school in its ass, all the while being willing to drop everything in a heartbeat if one of us needed to talk. And that you’re here to help us out with the baby… there’s just… there’s no words for what it means. I am so over the moon for you both about your engagement; you are two of the strongest, kindest souls I’ll ever know, and you truly deserve each other.”

“Quinn just wants an excuse to make a ridiculously extravagant cake.” Michelle gave her a wink.

“Hey!” Quinn laughed, wrinkling up her nose in feigned offense. “Well, between your last year of school, my first public speaking engagements, and a wedding to plan, I think we’ll have earned a good cake.” She leaned into her fiancée for a kiss, and there might as well have been no one alive but the two of them.

“One of the greatest blessings in my life has been to watch Grace and Aleister become the most amazing parents to their sweet little man, Reggie. Who, I might add, said his first word yesterday…”

Beaming, Grace tickled under her son’s chin. “What can you say, sweetie?” She wiggled a finger in Aleister’s direction. “Who’s that?”

“Dada!”

Another big cheer. The infant looked slightly perturbed by the outburst, and snuggled closer to his mother.

And so they reflected on another year; their trials, heartaches and triumphs. Quinn’s cupcake business had truly taken flight, and she’d begun her first forays into non-profit work. What Zahra did on her computer all day, no one was quite sure, and most were too afraid to ask, but she was happy, opening herself up to new avenues, and always heading up an unstoppable dynamic duo, supporting Craig as he found the confidence to make his way in the world and embrace his own successes. Sean was looking forward to his first season as a pro on the Condors, Raj’s runaway success with his cooking vlog had landed him talks about the television show of his dreams, and Taylor herself was taking a break from fulfilling youth work in San Trobida after having fast-tracked her degree and graduated after three years. Diego was contentedly living back in Elyys’tel, preparing to knuckle down and make some progress on his book --as well as continue his role as the most sought-after story-teller on the island, and bond with the baby he’d helped bring into existence. Jake had returned home a free man several years prior, but now spent far more time piloting tourists around the Greater Antilles, with home bases on both La Huerta and San Trobida. Rourke International was now a distant memory, the company having been re-branded under Aleister’s direction as Catalyst International. It was only then, with Rourke’s influence scorched from everything he’d once touched, that Estela’s resistance to Aleister’s attempts to gift her a fair share of inheritance waned. Her objective was simple; to use the wealth she’d inherited to rebuild her war-ravaged home, and to offer its young people the opportunities her own mother had sacrificed herself to give Estela. With a family of Tio Nicolas in San Trobida; Grace, Aleister, Diego and Varyyn on La Huerta; and Taylor, right at her side wherever she might be, she was finally contented and at peace.

With tears in her eyes, Taylor wrapped up her ‘birthday’ speech, toasting to another year with a glass of fruit punch held high. Then, to do the rounds… picking up, as anticipated, a great stash of birthday cards, while cramming in as much catching-up as she could manage before the inevitable drunken shenanigans took over.

Taylor picked up a second glass with her refill and wandered back to the poolside hammock where Estela awaited her.

“You look comfy,” she said with a loving wink.

“Should hope so… I’m fairly sure I’m stuck here.”

Taylor giggled. “Thankfully, we’ve got a whole team of pregnant-lady-extractors on hand, so you can just take it easy.” Handing over the fruit drink, she rested on the edge of the hammock and kissed her wife’s forehead.

Closer now, Taylor sensed something… different… new. There was something in Estela’s expression, a look of holding onto a secret, some wonderful knowledge that was all hers. Her heart skipped a beat. Was she…?

An almost imperceptible nod confirmed her suspicions, and she had to hold back a gasp.

“So, uh… how long do you want to give it before I break up the party… and Raj’s heart?”

Estela leaned in close, sharing a clandestine smile and whispering so only Taylor could hear. “The contractions aren’t even a half hour apart yet; we’ve got time. Let poor Michelle relax for a little while longer.”

Gently wriggling up against her beloved, Taylor pressed a sweet kiss to her lips and cradled her rounded belly. As her heart pounded with elation, she looked over the gathering; her family. Raj and Jake were engaged in their annual drinks-mix-off. Jake, as always, was the obvious underdog, but keeping pace and already impressing the eager judges. Cocktail in each hand, Quinn reclined in a floating pool ring, taking her time in making her pick of the winner, while avoiding the wild splashing from the direction of Craig, Sean, Diego and Varyyn, who’d taken a break from drinks tasting for a two-on-two ball game. Michelle and Grace were taking well-earned respite by the pool, watching the goings-on with their feet up in the most comfortable deck chairs. Clearly under the impression that no one bar the protective father was watching, Zahra was quietly singing for an entranced baby Reggie. Tucked up with the woman she loved and on the very brink of becoming a mother, Taylor smiled helplessly; completely, palpably content. So much had changed, and yet… so little had changed at all.

It was as though Taylor was looking at everything she could have wished for. They’d made it through… together, joined by bonds forged in fire and tempered in grief and hope. They’d survived, just as they’d survive the challenges along each of their paths, for the journey would never be walked alone.

We’re finally on our way…

#endless summer #playchoices #es fanfiction #choices fanfiction #estela montoya #estela x mc #estela x taylor

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icharchivist · 5 years

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I have a feeling the story will split between the main 4 for a long time (well yeah it already has). Kanda might eventually go back to the Order to be a General and work w/Lenalee to uncover the secretd/corruption while helping Allen from afar. Allen, Johnny (really lets call it the main 5 now) and Lavi are the 3 w/nothing binding them to the Order (unlike Lenalee (her Brother) and Kanda (his Innocence/General status)). Those 3 will travel together and provide the outsider look. In that-

2 way they'll become the most balanced in views and knowledge of the truth of the world (again makes sense. Allen - Noah/Innocence host. Johnny - normal human not attached to rigid dogma or power. Lavi - bookman. Both he and Allen want to know everything about this war). Those 3 will most likely focus on the Noah/Innocence/third side while Kanda and Lenalee discover the human force that Leverrier is promoting and gathering loyalty for (Renee and Zu are/were on his side).

3 with that in mind it'll probably be a long time before Lenalee gets to really reunite w/Allen or Lavi again. If Central doesn't trust Kanda. They won't trust her or Marie since they covered for him. Hopefully she'll finally get her big support moment w/Allen when she does. She's already wrecked w/guilt she 'abandoned' Allen because other things (like her Brother/home) were more important (not that Allen wanted her to come. She might turn into a fallen). Either way I hope she'll see them again-

Cont) Lenalee will see Allen and Lavi again before the beginning of the end of the manga. At least under pleasent circumstances. How brutal would it be if Lenalee's dream of a destroyed Order and dead Allen came true. Particularly before she talked to him again.

ooOOh yeah! I can actually see something similar yes!!

I feel like the plot is eventually going to divide them until they get all back together - kinda like how the intro arc devided them until they were all together again for the ark’s arc and the attack on the Order arc, so both a huge arc and a culmunation of it.

I do expect Kanda to be our link to the Corruption of the Order plotline Lenalee is more likely to be the one covering. I think Lenalee has a lot to be able to deal with there, especially with Lveille still roaming around while he mostly set himself up as her antagonist. And there is a dilema with her and Komui specifically because she’s more kinda chained at the Order knowing her brother gave up everything for her and would suffer the consequences of her leaving, so it’s more than just a choice between her home and what is right. and we know that as of now though her act of rebellions could completely backfire on her brother, so it really puts her in a tight situation where she would have more luck protecting those she loves by dismantling the internal structure of the Order than by running away with Allen.

and rightfully pointed out there are people in the order who would be their ally. The problem is the scientists we’ve seen being brought up by Lveille and well, him, not to mention the Crows, which will also be a problem.

Speaking of Crows, Hoshino did mention that she will have a Third Exorcist Related arc - which i suppose will also serve as Link’s character arc. She mentioned one was planned before the Alma arc but since it’s when she went to mouthly because of her wrist, she had to recalculate the flow of the story, and instead decided to push the arc further in time, and that’s why she found the loophole of having the Third being controled by the Noah. So there’s this arc in coming too and i think it would be mostly Link’s arc, but i doubt Allen would leave him alone would he know about it (especially with how guilty he feels for them). I also kinda am expecting perhaps Kanda to play a part in it, considering how much he resents Link and the bound he has with those experiments.

So there’s this to consider sometime in coming. We know Lavi’s Bookman’s arc is next, but yeah, a Third Exorcist Arc is still planned, normally, so is Link’s character development, which would also have Link being considered more of a main character once it really happens.

Anyway back to the ask, meanwhile i could see indeed Allen/Lavi/Johnny have matters outside the Order. Mainly because Lavi’s duty will be to be recording history and if Bookman is anything to get by, they were supposed to leave the Order and Allen was the history they were supposed to record, so it leaves us with good reasons for Lavi to stick around. And Johnny well, would do anything to be an anchor for Allen. The thematic reasons you point out are also there so yeah.

I could see eventually yeah, all the plotlines getting back together. I mean if we touch upon the Third and the Corruption of the Order we would have touched the corruption of the major powers of the story (even more if there is corruption in the Bookman Clan since this arc is incoming as well). Which would give a good time to have them all back together forming the Third Side once and for all, outside of all those old organizations that are failing by being stuck in their old ways.

I could completely see like you mention Lenalee’s vision being realized by the destruction of the Order and Allen being at least in a bad shape following it. I do feel like the vision was more an echo to how Tyki almost killed him and then when the Order was attacked, but there would be no reason for it to not happen again and it would make a bittersweet cycle in her visions.

But i’m more inclined to think they would all meet each other at the end of the crossroads of their plotlines, all gathering around Allen and forming a new side.

but then we still have...a lot of stuff to go through to get there and be sure orz. For now that’s just the short term stuff i’m seeing rip

#ichafantalks dgm #Anonymous #ichareply

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