#Bubo encanto
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Shipboard for Isabela and Bubo/concept bf (Encanto)
For @hannahhook7744 :) Hope you like this~~
We're closed for now, thank you~!
#ship#ships#shipboard#shipboards#ship board#ship boards#shipping#shipping board#shipping boards#isabela#isabela encanto#bubo#bubo marquez#bubo encanto#encanto#encanto bubo#encanto disney#disney#disney encanto#concept bf#encanto concept art#bf
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Dinner with the Family
Oneshot Summary: Future fic! It's Isabela's wedding anniversary and she has requested the entire Madrigal clan come together for a single meal in the stead of a party. Bruno begins to suspect something might be up when Bubo requests they sit next to each other. Or, the dinner where Bubo and Isabela come out to the family.
Preview: "The door opened again and Isabela stepped out, wearing her most stylish indigo jumpsuit and a few pink flowers in her hair that Bruno was pretty sure she hadn’t meant to make. She turned, holding her hand out, and waited."
Bruno hummed happily on his way into town, despite the ache in his knees and the stiffness in his back. He had been having a good day, and was reasonably sure it was only going to get better. After all, Juli (and whoever volunteered to help her) were cooking a special dinner for Isabela’s and Bubo’s anniversary. The couple of honor had requested Bruno invite his boyfriend, Heraldo, which left said boyfriend in a rather good mood for the past two weeks. And Bruno had it on good authority (Antonio) that his youngest rat was getting past her cold. So yes, today was a good day and would only continue to get better.
That wasn’t a prophecy, but he felt pretty certain of it anyway.
He reached Heraldo’s bookshop and cut his humming short before walking through the open door, in case anyone was trying to read. Thankfully, the shop was empty with the exception of Heraldo’s grandchildren, sitting behind the counter doing their homework.
“Hola Tío,” fourteen year old Flora greeted him with a distracted smile.
“Abuelooooooo,” eleven year old Fabian shouted, almost directly into his sister’s ear, she glared at him but he pretended not to notice, “your boyfriend’s here!”
Bruno quietly flinched, but didn’t shush the boy. It probably wasn’t a great idea to announce to the whole village that he and Heraldo were dating. Encanto was a paradise and people were much more accepting of him than they used to be, but still. Bubo had gotten chased out of the city when the wrong person found out a little too much about Bubo’s “private life”. Eventually, Bruno knew, people like them would be safe to live their lives out in the open, but not yet. The battle for their right to love openly had only just started in the more liberal cities. They were decades out from victory.
All that said, they were alone in the shop, and Bruno liked hearing that title be announced with so little fanfare.
The sound of Heraldo’s slow steps made it down the stairs long before he did. Like Bruno, he was in his seventies, and his joints didn’t always cooperate with him. Bruno leaned his weight on his cane, happy to wait as long as Heraldo needed.
Once upon a time, Heraldo had been a train conductor. He had taken a job as a station manager when he and his beard/best friend decided they wanted kids, then went back to conducting once those kids were grown. His “wife” had passed shortly after their youngest son was married, said youngest son had gone to the United States for work and sent Heraldo all the money the kids would ever need. Heraldo had retired so he could care for the two kids in his son’s absence. When Bruno had asked about their mother, Heraldo had smiled sadly, shrugged, and said “She’s a good woman, but life isn’t always kind out there”.
Bruno had no idea what that meant, other than, “Don’t ask.”
He emerged from the stairwell in his muted green suit. Something he usually reserved for church. His white beard was trimmed neatly, and he had his nice glasses on instead of the crooked bifocals that were usually perched high on the wide bridge of his nose.
Heraldo had once been a tall man, but the years on the go had caught up with him, hunching his shoulders and compressing his spine. In quiet moments before bed, Heraldo had confided in Bruno how it was actually a bit of a relief to be shorter now, he had talked at length about what it was like to be a large grumpy black man out there in the world beyond their paradise. He had spoken of years spent being feared, and loathed, and ostracized. And he had gotten a little choked up when he spoke about how different things were now that he was a hobbling Abuelo with two kids hanging off him, how he had almost thanked a woman the first time a stranger turned to him for safety rather than edging away from him in fear.
In turn, Bruno had spoken at length about what it was like to be The Bruno Madrigal, versus his new life as goofy Tío Bruno.
“Oh, you don’t have to get all dressed up for this,” Bruno immediately said, “i-it’s just a family dinner!”
“Exactly,” Heraldo gruffed, crossing the shop floor as quickly as his bad hip would allow, “this is a family affair, want to show how grateful I am to be included.”
They both glanced at the open door and shop window before clasping hands and briefly pressing their lips together. Fabian made an exaggerated retching sound, and was promptly smacked by his sister.
“Abuelo! Tío! Flora hit me,” Fabian cried in a nasally voice, and didn’t even bother trying to hide the smarmy grin he sent his sister.
“Because you’re being obnoxious!”
“Flora, use your words, not your fists,” Heraldo snapped, “Fabian, she’s right, you are being obnoxious.”
Fabian pouted, first at Heraldo, then when that got him nowhere, at Bruno. Bruno grimaced, but couldn’t help himself.
“Are you alright mijo?” he asked, he didn’t need his gift to foresee that Heraldo would tease him for being such a softy.
“No,” Fabian announced, sighing dramatically, “I can’t feel my legs.”
“I hit you in the shoulder.”
“Yeah, but really, really, reeeeeally hard.”
“Would uh, would a hug help you feel better?” Bruno asked, already knowing Fabian would accept just to keep the act going, but not sure how else to respond.
Fabian sniffed, pointing his nose in the air, “It would.”
“Alright then,” Bruno hobbled a few steps towards the counter, but didn’t have to go far. Fabian may have enjoyed annoying his sister, but he was still raised with manners. He ran out from behind the counter before Bruno had taken five steps.
Bruno hugged him, glanced at Heraldo, and could already hear his boyfriend telling him he played right into the kid’s hands. He shrugged sheepishly. Heraldo shook his head.
“Gracias Tío,” Fabian said, letting Bruno go, “I think I might survive through the night now.”
“Oh good, I’m glad,” Bruno patted his shoulder.
At the counter, Flora watched with a thoroughly unamused look on her face. She took after her abuelo in many ways, but most especially in attitude. All the same, she rose to the bait and asked Bruno for a hug as well. He accepted, not wanting to show favorites and she stared pointedly at her brother while she wrapped Bruno in her arms. Said brother loudly bemoaned Bruno’s apparent betrayal.
They lingered a while longer, so Bruno could ask the kids about their homework, and how their week had been since he last saw them on Wednesday. When Heraldo dragged him away, Bruno was doing his best to stutter his way out of judging which kid had doodled the better rat within thirty seconds.
“You know, those two make a game of trying to be your ‘favorite’, right? Still not convinced you ain’t dating me just for them,” Heraldo teased, when they were finally walking towards Casita, Heraldo carrying a wrapped present for the couple of honor.
“O-oh come on, it isn’t like I don’t already have plenty of kids at home,” Bruno argued.
“Hm, exactly, you’re an addict,” Heraldo said, anyone who didn’t know him well would call it grumbling, “can’t go five minutes without kissing a bruised knee.”
“Like you’re one to talk,” Bruno rolled his eyes, “I bet once we get there it’ll take less than fifteen minutes before you got a kid in your lap.”
“Slander,” Heraldo grunted.
“Oh?” Bruno eyed him slyly, “If that’s so, then take the bet.”
Heraldo didn’t say anything. Bruno chuckled.
When they reached Casita, his Má was sitting out front in her wicker wheelchair, enjoying the sunshine as Victor practiced on the violin next to her. Despite her limited mobility she was doing remarkably well for a woman who was coming up on triple digits; actually, the doctors were beginning to suspect that being around so many healers might have a few side effects. As a matter of fact, as Victor’s violin strings glowed, Bruno could almost see the cataracts in his Má’s left eye clear up a little.
“Heraldo,” Má greeted him warmly, “how kind of you to join us.”
“Not at all, Señora, just honored to be invited,” Heraldo replied, ducking his head politely.
“You didn’t bring the grandchildren?”
“Ah, no, not this time. Flora is too caught up in her studies, and Fabian is too caught up in distracting her.”
“Ah, sí, next time then,” Má nodded, “you’ve met my eldest great grandchild, Victor, by now, sí?”
Victor was Dolores’ first child, and at nineteen was the eldest in his generation of Madrigals. He was actually the first of the great grandchildren Heraldo had met, but that was years ago, and they seldom interacted since. Not for any particular reason, they just didn’t have much in common.
“I have, good to see you again mijo,” Heraldo said, making an effort to sound a bit less like he was growling than usual.
“And you señor.”
“Think I’ve met the whole collection by now,” Heraldo said, glancing at Bruno for confirmation.
“Um,” Bruno thought about it, there were a lot of Madrigals to keep track of these days, he sort of wished he’d bothered to make a checklist, “have you met all three of Mirabel’s sons?”
“Sí, and Luisa’s twins, and her newest one a few times.”
“What about Camilo’s new son?” Alma asked.
“Ah sí, unless he’s actually had twins too,” Heraldo quirked a smile, “I’ve only met one baby, but you lot tend to have them in bundles.”
“Hm, we do seem to have a lot of twins and triplets in the family, don’t we.”
“Some research supports that it’s genetic,” Victor interjected, as he switched to plucking, “there was this survey done of birth records that found-. Oops.”
The violin strings stopped glowing once the discordant note interrupted the melody. Victor flinched, cheeks red.
“It’s alright mijo, you’re doing very well, try it again,” Má gently patted his shoulder.
He nodded, taking a deep breath to calm his embarrassment as he put the bow back on the strings and took the song from the top. Victor loved playing, and he loved the thought of being a town healer like his Tía Julieta, but he had terrible stage fright. He wasn’t technically out here to practice playing, he was out here to practice playing where people could hear him.
Bruno quietly ushered Heraldo inside, gently touching his mother’s hand as they passed. She smiled up at him, briefly, then continued to watch Victor play.
Predictably, Casita’s courtyard was filled with kids, many of whom paused whatever games they were playing to greet Bruno and Heraldo. As soon as the two men had sat down to wait for dinner, Antonio’s eldest had crawled into Heraldo’s lap. Bruno grinned at him, while Heraldo pretended not to notice. The little girl made it easy on him, she happily distracted him with all the new things she’d figured out how to turn her hair into.
Bruno felt a tug on his pant leg, he looked down and found one of Luisa’s twins hiding behind the couch by his leg. All three of Luisa’s kids tended towards being shy, and weren’t sure how to handle Heraldo’s gruff attention, so Bruno wasn’t surprised that the little boy handed him a little clay bowl he had made then immediately ran away. As soon as Bruno looked up, he was met by one of Mirabel’s triplets. Specifically, the one named after him.
“Sí?” seventy-two year old Bruno asked.
“Má wants to know if my kitten can play in one of your mazes,” nine year old Bruno said.
“Oh, Mirabel wants to know that, does she?”
“Sí, she told me to ask you,” he nodded, then pulled the little black kitten out from under his ruana, “I promise she won’t break anything!”
Bruno pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at the idea that the tiny, squeaking, fuzzy potato in his grand-nephew’s hand was capable of breaking anything. Black cats may be bad luck, but there was only so much damage a fur ball that small could dole out. He schooled his features into a contemplative look, even tapping his chin a few times as he made a long, drawn out “Hmmmmm” sound.
“Por favor Tío!”
“Maybe,” he said slowly, “she can play in the maze if you try one new food at dinner.”
“I can do that,” he agreed, nodding eagerly.
“Pinky promise?”
“Pinky promise!”
They shook pinkies, then nine year old Bruno ran off, yelling to nine year old Agustín and nine year old Félix, “Tío Bruno said my cat can play in the maze but your guys’ can’t!”
“Que? That’s not what I said,” he squawked, “I said your kitten can play in the maze if you try one new thing at dinner.”
“Ours too?” little Félix asked.
“Sure. If you each try something new.”
“No fair, I’ve tried everything,” little Agustín shouted. He was the most adventurous of the three, and probably right, he may very well have tried everything Julieta knew how to cook.
“Ah, that’s r-right,” Bruno paused, actually having to think about it this time, “umm…”
“What if he does something nice for his Má,” Heraldo suggested quietly.
“Oh! That’s good,” Bruno nodded, “your kitten can play in the maze if you go out and find a flower to match your Má’s dress.”
“I can do that,” he chirped, then used a great burst of wind to launch himself over Casita’s walls. Faintly, Bruno heard a few screams from where he would have landed. He exchanged a sheepish look with Heraldo, they probably should have known he would do that.
Thankfully, before anyone could come wagging fingers, Camilo walked downstairs with a kid hanging off his back, and his baby in the crook of his arm. He clapped his free hand against his thigh to get all of the children’s attention.
“Alright, time to start washing up for dinner,” he called, “let’s go, four at a time. Any volunteers?”
Nobody raised their hand.
He sighed, then started pointing at random kids, “You, you, you, and you! Into the bathroom.”
“Aaaaw, but I-.”
“No buts! It’s a special occasion, and anyone who makes me wait any longer than I have to, to have dinner is getting stuck with all the dishes,” Camilo said, the children took this threat seriously, running past him to wash their hands. Satisfied, Camilo turned to follow them, and Bruno had a startling realization.
“Camilo, that boy doesn’t live here.”
Camilo glanced over his shoulder at the kid on his back, “Do you live here?”
“No.”
“Are your parents looking for you?”
“Probably not, they both have to work late.”
“You want to stay for dinner?”
“Yes please. My abuela burns everything.”
“Alright, what’s one more kid,” that said, Camilo continued with his quest to get all the kids washed up by dinner time.
“Huh,” Heraldo said, and when Bruno looked at him, he was eyeing Bruno with an almost smile.
“What?”
“Just impressed you can keep these kids straight,” he said with a shrug.
“Oh,” Bruno chuckled a little sheepishly, “h-honestly, I’m pretty impressed with myself about that too.”
“Well, you should be,” Heraldo all but snapped, “pretty sure there are rabbits with fewer kids to keep track of.”
“To be fair, the rabbits are just one set of parents, and none of the baby rabbits have the ability to turn their hair into fire.”
As he said this, he gestured at the little girl sitting in Heraldo’s lap, and she happily obliged by setting her head ablaze. She grinned up at them and there was an empty space where she’d just lost a baby tooth. Heraldo stared at her as wide eyed as he ever got until she turned her hair into long shining grass instead, she’d been experimenting with weaving it into baskets lately.
Point made, Bruno shrugged, “I-it helps that all the kids can be broken down into groups based on who their parents are. Isabela has one; Dolores, and Antonio both have two; Mirabel, Camilo, and Luisa, all have three. Oh, and! A-and if you think about it, that’s only fourteen kids to keep track of.”
“Fourteen for now,” Heraldo said, “Your nieces are still young enough that-.”
Bruno accidentally cut Heraldo off by knocking on the wooden beam next to their couch. He certainly wouldn’t mind another niece or nephew, but pregnancy didn’t come without risk.
Camilo returned with the first four children and sent them off to the kitchen to see if they could help set the table, then rounded up the remaining three, including the little girl sitting in Heraldo’s lap. As soon as they were gone, a door opened upstairs and a blur passed around the courtyard, pinning up a simple banner as it went. The blur quite suddenly turned into Isabela’s son, Ferdinand, who stood in the middle of the courtyard, inspecting his work with a critical eye.
“On second thought, make that sixteen kids, that one counts as three,” Bruno murmured to Heraldo out of the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t that Ferdinand was a mischievous child, on the contrary, he strived to be as helpful as his cousin Victor. However, even the most helpful of children were a bit much to handle when they could run as fast as a bullet.
Fortunately, Ferdinand, the second oldest great grandchild, was getting close to adulthood, so if they’d managed to keep him alive this long, they were probably good.
“I bet,” Heraldo huffed, most people thought his huffs were a sound of irritation, but Bruno knew they were actually his laugh.
Ferdinand suddenly went from standing in the middle of the courtyard to standing right next to Bruno, “Tío Bruno, do you-, hola Tío Heraldo, do you think the colors work?”
“Buenas tardes,” Heraldo replied, “how did the relay race go?”
“Not bad, don’t think they actually needed my help refereeing though,” Ferdinand shifted his weight and put his hands on his hips. He didn’t like when he got invited places just because he was a Madrigal; unfortunately for him, he was the most social of his generation, and thus the most popular among the villagers. Lately, people had been inviting him places with a really thin excuse for why he was needed.
While they spoke, Bruno eyed the banner, it was midnight blue with red and gold bows wherever the banner was pinned, “Sí, I think your mothers will like it.”
Ferdinand looked briefly startled, and his head whipped around, checking for listeners. When he saw none, he relaxed, and smiled.
“I hope so,” he said, “they’ve been kinda on edge about something recently, I really want them to have a good anniversary.”
“We all do,” Bruno reassured him.
Ferdinand opened his mouth to say something else, when Agusíto came running back in with a flower grasped in his muddy hands. He held it up proudly for Bruno to see as he raced past, then gathered the wind around him and launched himself onto the second story. He knocked on his parents door and was let in almost instantly.
After a beat, Ferdinand tried again, only to be cut off when Casita opened the front door so Victor and Adelaide, Camilo’s wife, could help Alma wheel herself in.
Giving Ferdinand a sympathetic smile, Bruno planted his cane and used it to leverage himself up, greeting Adelaide with a brief hug, “Hola, how’s the food drive going?”
Adelaide and Camilo had recently established what they were referring to as The Shelter, for lack of a better word. Encanto was getting pretty big, and it was no longer possible for one person to keep track of who needed what, so Mirabel had put together a committee to take care of it. That committee happened to need someplace to operate, and somebody to lead it since Mirabel didn’t have the time. Fortunately, Adelaide was a clerical whiz; combine her skills using a filing cabinet, with Camilo’s people skills, and they had gotten everything sorted within a year.
Currently, The Shelter was putting on a food drive for the families that were struggling to make ends meet this year. Camilo was handling the PR side of getting donations, while Adelaide had had her hands full figuring out how much food was needed and taking inventory of what was available.
Camilo’s eldest, Pepa (or Pepita to avoid confusion) followed her mother in shortly after, holding a bag full of her mother’s paperwork.
“We are quickly approaching our goal,” Adelaide said in her quiet, not quite monotone.
“Ah, bien, that’s great. Proud of you,” he enthused, and she quirked the corner of her lips up at him. She did not have a great relationship with her father, and had asked Bruno to walk her down the aisle, so he was going to operate under the assumption that it was his job to fulfill a fatherly role until somebody corrected him.
So far, in the nine years she’d been married to Camilo, nobody had.
“Go on, go be helpful,” Camilo’s voice drew her attention to the stairs just in time for the three children Camilo had rounded up to avalanche their way down the stairs and to the kitchen.
Adelaide gave Bruno another tiny smile, then sped walked to greet her husband, who grinned broadly when he saw her.
“Ah! Addy! Look, I got us another kid,” he joked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the boy who was still clinging to his back.
“Where?”
“Hey kid, where’d I pick you up?”
“The rec center,” he said.
“I got him at the rec center.”
“So that’s where babies come from,” she mused under her breath, “huh.”
Camilo laughed at her joke, then pressed a kiss to her cheek. The boy clinging to his back wrinkled his nose and let go, dropping to the ground and trotting towards the kitchen. Bruno idly wondered how long it would take Julieta to notice he wasn’t a Madrigal.
“Here mija,” Camilo was saying, taking Adelaide’s bag off Pepita's hands, “I’ll take this up to your Má’s desk, you wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Gracias Pá,” she happily handed the bag over, she wasn't big enough to help with Alma’s wheelchair, and even the bag was a bit too heavy for her. She pulled the shawl off her back, exposing her iridescent wings, and flew up to the second story.
Meanwhile, Victor had helped Alma get to her room, which was now on the first story, for the obvious reasons. She thanked him and sent him off to stow his violin and wash his hands.
Finally, Adelaide and Camilo strolled to their room, talking about the food drive.
Once everybody was gone, Bruno turned back to Ferdinand, “You were saying, mijo?”
He glanced around, then started to say, “I think my Má might-.”
He didn’t even look surprised when Mariano entered from the kitchen with his and Dolores’ daughter, Helena. They were each carrying a basket, and quickly headed out back. Ferdinand just rolled his eyes and mumbled “You’ll see,” before racing up to the open bathroom.
Bruno watched him go with a sympathetic grimace, it was increasingly harder to get a quiet moment for a private conversation in the Madrigal household.
Heraldo groaned as he also got up, “I take it dinner with the whole family is not a calm affair.”
Usually, they did dinner in shifts, mostly because it was impossible to accommodate the differing schedules of all thirty three Madrigals (plus Luisa’s mother in law who had moved in so her son could care for her in her old age) in a single sitting. Isabela and Bubo had requested a real family dinner in the stead of a party, however, so they had all jostled their schedules around to make it work.
“Ay, no. Not at all,” Bruno sighed, glancing at his Má’s door to be sure it was shut, he picked up Heraldo’s hand and placed a kiss on the back of it, “thank you for uh, you know, agreeing to sit through the chaos.”
Heraldo let out another one of those huffy laughs of his, shrugging, “Well, the alternative was a peaceful dinner with two of my three favorite people, so of course-. Oh, wait, I may have made a mistake.”
Bruno chuckled, “Come on, b-bright side, all the best cooks are in the kitchen tonight.”
“That’s quite the bright side,” Heraldo agreed, following Bruno into the dining room where the food was being staged.
Agustín, the seventy-one year old Agustín, was already in there, keeping the kids too young to help in the kitchen out of Julieta’s hair. He immediately enlisted Bruno and Heraldo into this endeavor.
Meanwhile, Ferdinand zipped into the kitchen, then the dining room. Racing around the small children, he began trying out different place settings and seating arrangements to see if they could even fit everybody in the dining room. The last time they’d all eaten together, Camilo’s youngest hadn’t been born, Luisa’s mother in law was still able to live on her own, and Heraldo hadn't joined them. Nor had the kid Camilo brought home.
Eventually, he sighed and raced out. A few minutes later he came back with Luisa, who picked up the dining room table (food and all) and moved it out to Casita’s courtyard. Ferdinand began racing the chairs out as well.
“Gracias Tía Luisa,” he said, pausing long enough to bump amicably against her.
“Don’t mention it,” she waved him off, “I’ll try and find another table.”
He nodded once, then continued moving the chairs. Bruno extracted himself from the pile of small children listening to Heraldo explain how to play The Train Game. He popped his head into the kitchen, which was pure chaos.
“Uh Juli,” he called above the cacophony of preparations, “looks like dinner will be in the courtyard.”
He couldn’t even find her in the mass of little workers plating the food, rustling up the appropriate utensils, and washing the dishes, but her voice cut through it all, “I sort of figured as much. Thanks for letting me know.”
“No problem,” he said, since he wasn’t sure she would see it if he acknowledged her words with a nod. He returned to the dining room and took up his designated role as the station of the Port of Panama in the game.
When everything was ready, Bruno found himself sitting between Heraldo and Bubo’s empty place setting at the main table. He had raised an eyebrow at that arrangement, since he usually sat next to Mirabel, Antonio, Adelaide, one of the kids, or his sisters, but Ferdinand had said something about Bubo requesting it.
Luisa had found another table and after some debate they had made a T shape with the tables instead of placing them parallel to each other.
Mirabel came down the stairs, talking about something or other with Dolores; her husband, Juan, followed just behind her with their, now clean, sons. Bruno did not get Juan. Or rather, he did not get why Mirabel had started dating Juan. Don’t get him wrong, Juan had turned out to be a devoted husband, loving father, and a dutiful family accountant, but he wasn’t exactly what Bruno would have pictured for his niece. Mainly, he wasn’t creative. At all.
Seriously, the guy couldn’t do a paint by numbers without a user manual at hand. Great with a budget, sure. Absolutely hopeless with a crayon.
But, Mirabel and Juan would be celebrating their eleventh anniversary next, so it was a bit late for Bruno to ask what the deal was. Besides, he liked the way Juan treated Mirabel, so it’s not like he opposed the match. He just… didn’t get it. Eleven years in and he still couldn’t wrap his head around them.
“-if we want to be ready in time, we should start shopping now,” Mirabel was saying, brow furrowed, “and honestly, we should probably put together a checklist to make sure nobody gets skipped this year.”
Bruno knew instantly what they were talking about. Christmas. The year before, thanks to a misunderstanding, little two year old Pedro hadn’t gotten a gift. Fortunately, little two year old Pedro was two, so they had thrown some of his favorite candy in a bag and acted really excited when he’d opened it.
“I can take care of that,” Juan said, pulling Mirabel’s chair out for her.
“Could you?” Mirabel asked, looking over her shoulder at him as she sat down, “I don’t want to put too much on your plate.”
“I’d have to do it anyway, to budget for it,” he reasoned, pushing her chair in for her, their sons took the next three seats, then Juan sat down next to where Adelaide would soon sit.
Juan and Adelaide had been good friends long before either of them joined the Madrigal family. Bruno had once walked in on Adelaide confessing she liked Juan better than her actual sister, Juan had replied he liked himself better than Adelaide’s older sister too. Bruno was pretty sure the only person in the family that liked Adelaide’s sister was Adelaide, and that was only if you stretched the meaning of the word “like”. Jaun had an older sister that most people liked plenty, and she had apparently put up with Adelaide’s sister for years just so she would bring Adelaide over for Juan to play with.
Ultimately, Bruno did actually like Juan, the guy was good to the people they both loved. And he kind of got why Mirabel married Juan once they’d been dating for a while. He just didn’t get why she started dating him at all.
“Tío Bruno,” Mirabel interrupted his musings, “can you help Juan make a checklist for Christmas? You’re really good at making sure all the kids are accounted for.”
Hushed but excited chatter spread around the tables.
“O-oh, uh, sure,” Bruno glanced at Juan.
“I’d appreciate it,” Juan said.
Mariano returned with his and Dolores’ daughter, followed by Camilo, Adelaide, and their baby. Luisa’s husband helped his mother down the stairs while Pepa and Félix waited at the top, clearly trying not to look like they were waiting for the stairs to be clear. Agustín got the last of his grandchildren settled, while Julieta set down the last pitcher of water. Alma wheeled herself to the table, and surreptitiously accepted a tiny clay bowl that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Antonio led his small pack of jaguars out back to their food, then returned and sat next to the boy who Camilo had acquired from the rec center.
The only two people left to show were Isabela and Bubo themselves.
Ferdinand disappeared in a blur and reappeared at his mothers’ door. He knocked, it opened a crack, whispered words were exchanged, then he turned and calmly walked down the stairs.
Bruno exchanged a startled glance with Mirabel.
Ferdinand did not walk, not if he didn’t have to.
The children were still chattering happily, but now all of the adults were aware that something was up. Tension slowly built as they waited for the couple of honor to appear.
The door opened again and Isabela stepped out, wearing her most stylish indigo jumpsuit and a few pink flowers in her hair that Bruno was pretty sure she hadn’t meant to make. She turned, holding her hand out, and waited.
Under the table, Bruno gripped Heraldo’s hand like a lifeline. His eyes kept shooting from Isabela to his Má and back again.
A graceful hand with painted nails placed itself in Isabela’s, then Bubo stepped out of their room, face almost as pale as the silver earrings she (was it “she” now? Last Bruno had asked, Bubo hadn’t wanted anyone else to know so it was still “he”, but now it looked like Bubo didn’t want to hide it, so it must be “she”) wore. Despite her obvious nerves, she kept her back straight and her steps even.
With high heels on she was the same height as Isabela.
Heraldo’s hand tightened on Bruno’s, Julieta gasped, Félix took a deep breath and tried to look casual. Dolores sat poised, eyeing the rest of the table as if waiting for anyone to say anything. Camilo and Mirabel made brief eye contact, then Camilo got up and fetched another bottle of wine. He placed it in front of Bubo and Isabela’s plates.
The kids old enough to understand something significant was happening eyed their parents for guidance. Victor looked at Ferdinand and Ferdinand stared back, jaw clenched and eyes stony.
“Bubo,” Alma said when the couple walked past her.
They stopped walking and Bruno stopped breathing.
“S-sí?”
“That is a lovely dress.”
It was all Bruno could do not to collapse back into his chair. More than a few people breathed sighs of relief, and Heraldo loosened his death grip.
Bubo took a second to respond, she looked like she was holding back tears, “Gracias Senora.”
“Oh honestly,” Alma huffed, “how many times have I told you to call me Abuela? Where are your manners? Call people by the name they introduce themselves as.”
There was a pause, an expectant expression on Alma’s face, an opportunity for Bubo to give herself a new name. Bubo nodded, but didn’t say anything, pressing her pink painted lips together in a watery smile. As she and Isabela walked to their places next to Bruno, everybody tactfully ignored the flowers overtaking Casita’s roof.
Mirabel watched the couple closely, still as a predator waiting for the right moment. When Isabela gave her a pleading look, Mirabel pounced on everybody’s attention and started passing food around the table.
Bubo sat down with a shaky breath.
“You alright?” Bruno asked, in a whisper.
“Very,” Bubo said, voice a bit choked.
He smiled quietly and patted her arm, then turned away to give the couple the illusion of privacy.
“I’m so proud of you,” Isabela whispered.
“Mí amor, please, I-I’m trying very hard not to cry,” Bubo hissed back.
“Right, sí, sorry,” Isabela sounded a bit amused. Somewhat pointedly, she started asking Ferdinand about whether he had decided to take English or French for his foreign language credit in his final year.
Everybody politely ignored Bubo until her breaths had evened out and she could ask to be passed the avocado without her voice shaking. And even then, nobody pounced on the elephant in the room until Mariano stumbled into it with his usual good intentions.
“Oh, Bubo, can you pass the-. Is it still Bubo?” he paused, thinking too hard to notice the nervous looks shooting around the table, “Buba? Can you pass the tortillas?”
“B-Barbara,” Isabela corrected, checking her wife’s face for permission, “when we’re at home she prefers to go by Barbara.”
“Ah, got it,” Mariano nodded, “Barbara, could you pass the tortillas, por favor?”
Barbara did so, smiling breathlessly, “Of course.”
“Question,” Camilo announced, and both Mirabel and Dolores side-eyed him.
“Sí?” Barbara responded, looking not quite nervous but not quite relaxed.
“Are nicknames alright?” he asked, “Can I call you Barb?”
“Oh,” she blinked, then nodded, “uh yeah, that’d be fine. Barb is fine.”
“Barb it is,” Camilo nodded once, then was promptly distracted by his baby boy throwing a handful of Camilo’s rice at Félix, “ay, sorry Pá.”
“It happens,” Félix brushed the rice, and the apology off. Lord knows he’d seen a fair amount of thrown food in his day.
“Should I be calling you Tía?” Victor asked, sitting between Dolores and his little sister.
“Only when we’re at home,” Ferdinand said, then looked at his mothers, “sí?”
“Sí,” Barbara agreed, “I-I’m not ready to be out to the entire village.”
“Ah, understandable,” Alma nodded, “I would like to think we don’t have any of the wrong sort in our village, but it is better safe than sorry.”
“Wait, what’s happening?” Luisa’s daughter whispered to her father.
“From here on out, when we’re at home, call your Tío Bubo, Tía Barbara instead,” he whispered back.
“Why?”
“Because it’ll make her happy, and she’s our family so we want her to be happy.”
“But why only when we’re at home?”
“Because some people are rude and care too much about other people’s business. They might make life difficult for your Tío- sorry, Tía, if they know she’s uh-,” he cut off and looked to Barbara, “what uh…?”
“I-I’m a woman,” Barbara said, then blushed bright red, “a-at least I’d like to be. I know that’s complicated-.”
“Oh hush, it’s not complicated,” Alma waved the concern off, and looked around the table with a stern glare, “you want to be a woman, so you’re a woman. We're your familia and we love you so we will all be doing our best to support you. Got it?”
“Of course,” most of the adults said instantly.
“Sí Mamá Alma,” chorused a few of the kids, though many of them didn’t look like they knew what they were agreeing to.
“Sí Mamá Abuela,” said Antonio’s youngest, who hadn’t figured out that “abuela” was a title, not a name.
Bruno glanced at the boy who wasn’t, actually, a Madrigal. The kid was sitting there wide eyed, but nodding loyally. Bruno caught Camilo’s eye and gestured at the kid with his lips, Camilo raised a brow, then did a double take. He paled, then leaned over to whisper something into his wife’s ear; Dolores perked up, her eyes zipping to the boy. Adelaide also glanced at the unintentional interloper and nodded.
Unaware of the potential leak, Mirabel took the lead of the main conversation, “So! Speaking of supporting you, is-, are you comfortable talking about this right now?”
“Sí,” Barbara bobbed her head, even as she gulped, “I-I’m ready.”
“Wonderful, what can we do to show you-, how would you like us to handle this?”
“I-I would like to be treated like a woman at home, and uh-, honestly I would like to be largely ignored outside the house until, uh, until I’m ready to, y’know, be myself out there.”
“Would you prefer to stay home more?” Agustín asked, “If you’re not comfortable being…?”
“I-if that’s alright,” she gulped, “I mean, I still want to pull my weight, so I’m happy to continue handling the shopping-.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Pepa made a quiet “bah” noise as she swatted away the concern, “I’ve been going stir crazy lately, you can have my chores and I’ll take yours.”
“Má, your knees,” Antonio pointed out. Bruno squeezed his own bad knees in sympathy, apparently it ran in the family. That, or he and Pepa shouldn’t have spent so much of their youth playing their favorite game, Tackle Tea Party. Julieta didn’t have knee problems, and she never played Tackle Tea Party with them, but Bruno chose to believe that was sheer coincidence. Clearly their knee problems were hereditary.
“Ay, forget about my knees,” she shook her head, “my mind is about to dribble out my ears if I don’t get some real sunshine.”
Antonio’s brow wrinkled in concern, and he was about to argue more, but his mother crossed her arms and set her chin. Antonio sighed, and although it seemed like he was giving in, Bruno could tell that Pepa would find herself unable to leave the house without a furry escort to look after her in case her knees gave out on her.
“Barbara,” Pepa turned back to her niece in law, and commanded, “we’re trading chores.”
“Oh, uh, alright? Gracias? I mean, we could probably-.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Right. Ok. Thank you.”
“Great, that’s sorted,” Mirabel sent Pepa a slightly worried look, but apparently decided to let Pepa take her own risks, “anything else we should know?”
Barbara and Isabela looked at each other, having a silent conversation, eventually, Isabela shrugged, “I’m only attracted to women? I mean, I thought Barbara was the exception, but then uh-, yeah.”
“Ok? Do you want us to…?” Mirabel trailed off, shrugging a little. After all, Isabela was already happily married, to a woman no less, so it didn’t really seem like anything had to change.
“Nah, just wanted to let you know.”
“Alright! Noted! That everything?” Mirabel said, brightly.
Isabela looked back at Barbara, and shrugged, Barbara saw the shrug and returned it with one of her own.
“We uh, sort of thought we’d have to explain all this a little more, I mean, the basics of it, not-,” Isabela said.
“I guess we hadn’t gotten as far as considering what happens next in any real detail,” Barbara agreed.
“Well, you don’t have to decide everything right now,” Mirabel said, with a quiet smile, then looked around at the other adults for agreement, “you can talk to us as things come up. Right?”
“Absolutely,” Julieta said.
“We’re always happy to listen,” Félix nodded.
“Would you mind if we have more questions, later?” Luisa asked.
“Not at all,” Isabela reassured her.
Then Alma turned to Bruno and said, “What do you think, mijo? Any advice? You have the most experience with this sort of thing.”
Bruno gasped, surprised to realize his mother was talking about his own experiences dating men, he hadn’t thought his Má knew.
Unfortunately, they were at dinner, and as a result, Bruno was eating. When he drew in a sharp breath, a piece of chicken he’d been chewing on came with it. Bruno tried to cough it out, only for nothing to happen. The chicken was stuck. He grabbed his throat with one hand and gripped Heraldo’s forearm with the other, trying in vain to force the piece of chicken out of his windpipe.
“Tío Bruno,” Barbara apparently realized what was happening first, she gripped his shoulder and began smacking on his back, but the chicken didn’t move.
Suddenly, Heraldo shook off Bruno’s hand and stood, pulling Bruno out of his chair and wrapping him into his arms so Bruno’s back was against Heraldo’s front. Sharply, with the side of his fist planted firmly against Bruno’s ribs, Heraldo squeezed him.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
On the fourth squeeze, the chicken moved far enough that Bruno was able to start coughing. Heraldo and Barbara supported him while he bent over double and hacked the chicken out of his airway.
It landed on the ground between his feet. He sucked air in greedily, and coughed a few more times, his throat stinging.
Barbara adjusted his chair so Heraldo could help him sit back down. Somebody pressed a cold glass of water into his hand, he looked up to realize half the family was now on their feet, some gathered close, others comforting frightened looking children. Cheeks burning he chugged the water then took a few more, very deep, breaths.
For lack of anything better to say, he muttered, “Sorry.”
“Wha-?! Oh stow the ‘sorry’, are you alright?” Heraldo shouted.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he gestured at the piece of chicken, “look, see, it’s out.”
Julieta bustled up with an arepa, and after one bite the stinging in his throat went away. She gently rubbed his back and refused to stop until he’d finished the whole thing.
Almost desperate to rid himself of the attention, he turned back to his Má and asked, “What were you saying?”
“I uh, I wanted to know if you have any wisdom for Isabela and Barbara, since you uh-. Are you sure you’re alright?!”
“Fine, sí, totally fine. You just uh, t-took me by surprise,” he chuckled nervously, “d-didn’t realize you uh, you know, knew.”
Something funny happened to his Má’s face. First it screwed up in confusion, then went slack with realization, then screwed back up into even more confusion. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and reopened it a few times. Finally she sat back in her wicker chair and looked heaven ward.
For a second, she was still, and Bruno fidgeted with his sleeve. When it really seemed like she wasn’t going to say anything, Mirabel quietly cleared her throat and started to speak.
“What do you mean you didn’t think I knew?!” Alma burst, startling even Casita, which jolted around them.
“I-.”
“Bruno I’m your mother, how-?! You literally brought your boyfriend to dinner!” She gestured emphatically at Heraldo.
“He’s-.”
“Bruno, mijo, I love you but you’re as subtle as a siren, even when you’re trying to-. Wait! Have you been trying to hide it?”
“Sí?”
Alma gaped at him, then put her head in her hands, there was quite a lot of table between them but he still heard her breathe, “Dios, how did he manage to stay hidden for ten years if that’s the best he can do?”
Bruno’s attention was drawn to Camilo, who was beginning to “cough” into his hand. Bruno tried to glare, but that just made Camilo laugh more. Rolling his eyes, Bruno turned to look at Heraldo for support. Unfortunately, Heraldo was in the middle of draining his wine glass.
“Nevermind Barbara,” Alma said, “if you wish to keep this hidden, do not ask your Tío for advice. It will do you no good.”
“Hey,” Bruno said, as a few more people started smothering giggles.
Alma just gestured once more at Heraldo and said, “Bruno, if you truly believe I didn’t realize you two are dating then I am much more insulted by your estimation of my intelligence than I could ever hope to avenge.”
“She has a point,” Agustín said.
“Oh go trip in a river,” Bruno snapped before he could think better of it, crossing his arms and sinking into his chair as his cheeks burned so hot, it was a miracle they didn’t burst into flame. The children tittered.
“Sorry hermano, but she does,” Agustín insisted, not sounding even a little bit sorry.
Bruno huffed, turning to Heraldo, “You shouldn’t have saved me, I probably wouldn’t have to put up with anything like this in heaven.”
“Tío Bruno,” Antonio’s daughter called out, “you can’t get into heaven if you’re mean to your mother! The Bible says so.”
Bruno raised an eyebrow at the little girl, who could not yet read her chapter books much less the Bible, then turned that raised eyebrow on the girl’s mother. She shrugged sheepishly. One of the other women at the table, he wasn’t sure which, muttered “Using that”.
A graceful hand landed on Bruno’s arm, and when he turned to look, Barbara was smiling at him, “Actually, I don’t need to trouble Tío Bruno for advice, because he’s already helped me more than I thought possible. I uh, I never would have had the courage to come out to the family without the support you’ve shown me over the years.”
“Oh. W-well I didn’t do much.”
“Maybe it didn’t seem like much to you, but every pair of earrings you got me for my birthday, every time you slipped up and used ‘she’ instead of ‘he’, even just when you held the door open for me like you do all the other girls and women,” Barbara was getting a little choked up again, so he gently patted the hand on his arm, “you uh, you really made me feel like if-. You know. Like even if today went horribly I’d still have family that loved me. The real me.”
Quite suddenly, Bruno felt a little choked up himself, in a way that had nothing to do with chicken. He swallowed thickly and smiled tremulously.
“I do love you kid,” he said.
“Kid? Tío, I-I’m forty-three,” she croaked.
“Details,” he said with a shrug.
“Dios mio, Bruno has been calling her ‘she’ a lot, for years now,” Félix murmured to Pepa, accidentally drawing the whole family’s attention.
“Never could keep a secret,” Pepa responded, not even bothering to try and be quiet.
“Do you two mind?” Bruno asked, gesturing between him and Barbara, “W-we’re having a moment.”
“Were we really not supposed to know el Señor Heraldo is your boyfriend?” One of Luisa’s twins asked, suddenly cured of his shyness, apparently.
“Wha-? Has everybody known this entire time?”
“What else would he be?” Félix, the nine year old one, asked with just enough honest confusion in his voice to save his kitten from losing maze privileges.
“A friend, he could be a friend,” Bruno groused.
A few looks were exchanged, and many people avoided his eyes, but for a good ten seconds it seemed like nobody would say what they were all, very clearly, thinking. And then! Bruno was horribly betrayed.
“You don’t have friends,” Adelaide said in a matter of fact voice. Beside her, Camilo broke out laughing.
“My own daughter,” Bruno hissed, without thinking.
Camilo’s middle son, turned to Pepita and asked, “Wait? Is Tío Bruno our abuelo too?”
Pepita started to shake her head, then apparently decided she would rather have chaos, and nodded, “Yeah. Our parents are cousins.”
“What?!”
“No we aren’t, Pepa, don’t lie to your brother.”
“But he’s so gullible.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better Tío Bruno,” Mariano said, “I didn’t know.”
“Thank you Mariano,” Bruno smiled at him.
“Does he count?” Luisa’s daughter asked her dad, “You said he’s an id-.”
“Incredibly valued member of this family, sí, he is,” Luisa talked over her daughter, smiling winningly at Mariano. Oblivious, Mariano smiled back, and even thanked her.
“Wait, was I not supposed to know?” Mirabel asked.
“Um,” Bruno said, “well, I w-wasn’t actively hiding it from you.”
“Bruno, at this point I think it’s safe to say you weren’t actively hiding it from anyone,” Julieta said, she smirked at him as his family continued to betray him by laughing.
“My Má knew,” the boy who Camilo had brought home said, “she’s annoyed because if she knew sooner she would have used you to get her uncle to stop ‘moping around the house’. Apparently he thinks you're pretty.”
“Tell your Má’s uncle he’s not interested,” Heraldo all but snapped, putting an arm on the back of Bruno’s chair.
“Wait. Who is that?” Isabela whispered, pointing at the boy, then silently counting the kids at the table. She looked honestly concerned she may have forgotten a nephew.
“Camilo brought him home by mistake,” Bruno whispered back.
“Does that mean the entire village knows?” Isabela asked the boy.
“I don’t know, I just know my Má wants my Tío out of the house more.”
“Wait, so everybody knew about Tío Bruno?” Barbara confirmed, and a depressing number of people nodded, her shoulders slumped, “Alright Isa, you may have a point about my gaydar.”
“It’s alright amor, you don’t need a good gaydar, we’re already married.”
“Yeah, but I really thought I’d clocked somebody.”
The conversation fractured after that, some kids didn’t know what a “gaydar” is and had to ask, Mirabel and Alma were now discussing whether or not it would be safe for Encanto to get involved with the queer civil rights movement, and others started talking about their days. Bruno pushed his food around his plate, unable to decide if nearly choking to death, or discovering his entire family knew his secret, had killed his appetite more.
He managed a few more nibbles, because the food was really good, but when Mirabel corralled the kids into doing the dishes, he found himself handing a mostly full plate to Helena. Ferdinand zipped by and the plate was suddenly empty. Helena rolled her eyes, giving the blur a stink eye as he disappeared into the kitchen.
“I wanted some of that,” she grumbled, stomping away.
The kids rushed through doing the dishes, and Bruno heard multiple voices yell, “The sooner we finish, the sooner we get dessert” over the clamor of cleaning.
Bruno resisted the urge to try and find a corner to hide in, he knew that once he sat down he would have a cavalcade of nephews and nieces piled on top of him. Hiding in a corner was only comforting if you weren’t trapped in said corner.
Besides, he had Heraldo with him. It turned out hiding wasn’t really an option when your boyfriend was over.
So he sat back down on the couch, Heraldo next to him, and his Má on his other side. Mariano saved the half drunk bottles of wine from the sugar motivated tornado, while Luisa’s husband prepared two pots of coffee, one normal, one decaf. Bruno accepted a cup of decaf and nursed it for the rest of the night, even when he had to hold it high over his head to keep it away from a grasping toddler. Heraldo kindly took up the role of buffer between Bruno and the rest of the adults, gruffly answering any questions directed his way so he was free to sit in silence while one of his smaller nieces fell asleep on him.
Eventually, everything wound down and the niece was lifted from his lap. Bruno stiffly stood up, and offered a hand to Heraldo, who groaned as he got to his feet. Without needing to ask, Bruno knew that Heraldo was too tired to spend the night, so he patiently waited as Heraldo gave his goodbyes then walked his boyfriend home.
“So,” Heraldo said, as the hobbled their way through the empty streets.
“I can’t believe they knew this entire time,” Bruno sighed.
“Really?”
“What? Heraldo, not you too.”
“It’s just… you don’t exactly scream heterosexual,” Heraldo almost looked sheepish, a rarity for him, “honestly, when we first met I assumed you-. Well. That doesn’t matter.”
“You assumed what?”
“Bruno mi amor-.”
“No, no, go ahead, what’d you assume?”
“I thought you may have been born a woman.”
Bruno wasn’t actually annoyed, it’s not like he’d ever cared that much about being “manly” or whatever. But all the same, he squawked as if this was incredibly offensive to him. Mostly for the sake of it.
“What?! It’s a reasonable assumption,” Heraldo defended himself, “You’re a triplet, both your sisters are female-.”
“We’re fraternal. And I have a beard!”
“Oh come now Bruno, there’s nothing wrong with it, I would have fallen in love with you all the same.”
Bruno sighed, rolling his eyes while he admitted, “I know, I just-. You know how it is, I’ve spent my whole life hiding this part of me, or trying to. N-now I find out I may as well not have bothered.”
“Ah, sí,” Heraldo placed a warm hand in the middle of Bruno’s back, “I suppose I would have been a bit put out if my whole town had clocked me after I went through the trouble of marrying Belinda.”
“Do you think it’s the whole town?”
“Well, at the very least that kid’s family knows about us.”
“I’m sorry,” Bruno sighed again, “you probably could have passed if we weren’t-.”
“Bah, I passed for years, got everything I wanted out of it. And look at your niece tonight, she had a lot to lose if coming out of the closet hadn’t worked out for her, but the risk is worth it,” Heraldo waved Bruno’s concerns off, “I want to live now, I want to be loved for who I am. I want to be in love.”
Bruno smiled at him, he forced himself not to look around for whoever else might be watching, then gently, slowly, kissed Heraldo right on the lips. When they parted, Heraldo actually smiled. They walked hand in hand the rest of the way to Heraldo’s home, where they parted with another kiss.
When Bruno got back to Casita, he was sort of surprised to see Isabela still up, idly growing vines around the courtyard. When she saw him her smile was almost blinding.
“Hola mija, still up?”
“Just waiting to thank you again,” Isabela swept forward, and pulled him into a tight hug, then pulled back, keeping her hands on his shoulders.
“Ah, you don’t have to thank me. I really didn’t do much-.”
“The fact that you don’t see any of what you did as a big deal is exactly what I want to thank you for,” Isabela shook her head, “Barbara lost the life she had in the city because to them, her being a woman was too big a deal to handle. But to you, to you it’s just…”
“It’s just one part of who she is,” Bruno finished, “a-and the rest of her is the woman who has made you happier than I’d ever seen you. I really wasn’t trying to-, I just wanted her to know how much I appreciate her. For the way she’s made my niece smile.”
Isabela hugged him again, and he heard her sniffle a little, her head bowed so her face was pressed to the top of his shoulder. This time when she released him, she made for the stairs.
“I uh- I should go check on her, she wanted some time to-, well, she called it ‘privately celebrating’, but I’m pretty sure that just means ugly crying over the clothes she now gets to wear around the house.”
Bruno chuckled nodding, “Happy anniversary, by the way.”
Isabela grinned at him, “The happiest.”
Bruno watched her disappear up the stairs and into her room. He stood in the middle of the courtyard, tired, knee aching, and still a little annoyed that he’d wasted years failing to pretend to be straight. All the same, he had to admit to himself that he had been right.
It was a pretty good day.
#encanto#bruno madrigal#bruno madrigal x male oc#Isabela Madrigal#Bubo Encanto#Trans woman Bubo#not Love and Fury Verse#lesbian isabela#trans lesbian Bubo#I can't remember if any of the other male OC's are named Heraldo#tried to double check but you know how searching things on tumblr is :/#anyways#hope you enjoyed this one
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Madrigay days submission: coming out!
(Please excuse that it is very late I somehow had no idea of this until day one but I could not miss out on this!)
Do you remember a few months ago, when we had that talk about you and Mariano?” the voice that cut in was too soft for powerful, explosive Isabela, wavering in anxiousness. “You were worried it would be weird about you and him being together because we were courting?” She continued.
A breath of relief escaped before Isabela closed her eyes.
“It’s just, we talked about how I’d never really been, uh, attracted to him.” She continued, as nice a phrase as any. “But, the thing is, I’ve never really been attracted to anyone before, I wasn’t sure I ever would.” .
The grip on her hands loosened, then returned there strong grip in indecisiveness. Dolores was quiet, but her grip on her Prima-hermana’s hands remained strong. Soon, the words tumbled out of Isa’s mouth.
“Lola, I- I have feelings for someone.”
#encanto#dolores madrigal#isabela madrigal#Bubo encanto#female!Bubo#lesbian Isabela Madrigal#coming out#ao3 author#ao3#family#fluff
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The fourth part of the Ride the Cyclone AU.
Ready, player two?
Reblog is now posted with the song.
The previous part in case you need a recap.
Comments are always appreciated.
Warning, sensitive topics below, especially character death.
~~~~~~
That Fucked-Up Girl
“What a rush!” Dolores declared triumphantly, taking a deep breath. “Who’s next?”
On cue, the lights returned to normal and Dolores was back in her own dress, she stepped off the pyramid which instantly collapsed - the trio underneath her groaning - and wandered back over to her spot, incredibly proud of herself on her sales pitch.
“Perhaps now would be a good time to say that whoever is brought back to life will be brought back by a unanimous vote from each and every one of the contestants.”
Crickets.
All eyes fell on Dolores.
She froze, not blinking. “What?” She squeaked.
“Whoever comes back needs a unanimous vote from all the contestants,” the man repeated, his tone condescending.
You could almost hear the horrified realisation happening in everyone’s mind, but mostly in Dolores’. One of the others, presumably Luisa by the low pitch, snickered.
Dolores stalked up to him, “But if you wouLD HAVE TOLD ME THAT—”
“You wouldn’t have called every one of your potential judges a ‘loser’, crowing about your superiority in song, culminating in you standing on top of them in a human pyramid?” He questioned. Dolores took a step back, swallowing nervously; she looked incredibly guilty. “…That did strike me as an unorthodox strategy.” The man mused, reclaiming his microphone just before it slipped from Dolores’ defeated hand.
He turned away, leaving Dolores to do the same.
She tried to regather some part of her confidence as she faced the others.
All of whom were now back on their feet and in their own clothes. Luisa, the closest, was scowling at her. Camilo didn’t know where to look. Isabela was two seconds away from being sick.
“What?” Dolores tried, innocently.
“‘What’?” Luisa mocked. “You just told your best friend that her greatest achievement in life will be getting high or going to fucking prison!”
“I’m not too bothered about the jail bit, actually. Sounded funny.” Isabela commented.
She walked over to Dolores, grabbing her arm and pulling her aside. It didn’t escape Dolores’ mind that Isabela’s grasp was unnecessarily harsh and would leave a bruise.
“A drug addict?” She whispered. “…Is that really what you think of me?”
“Prima, I was in the moment… Sorry, Isabela! I promise I didn’t mean that was your greatest achievement in life.”
“That’s fine. It only kinda really super hurts but—”
“Do you want to know what I find ‘kind of really super hurts’?” Desconocida asked, suddenly directly beside Isabela. Her voice echoing around the room and porcelain head glowing under the light.
The pair moved away in sync.
“Maybe later, thanks,” Isabela snapped. Her frustration with Dolores slipping out to the wrong person.
Desconocida tilted her head. Isabela took it as her opportunity to leave, walking as far away from Dolores and Desconocida as humanly possible.
“Okay…” Dolores mumbled, also moving away. “So… what I did there.. is exactly the type of thing you shouldn't do in this competition.”
Nobody said anything.
“You guys know I love you,” she tried again. She ran over and grasped her cousin’s arm. “Isabela? I love you. We have been best friends since day one! Even with all the expectations and pressure we had growing up, we still had each to lean on and talk to about anything. All those wonderful memories; I wouldn’t trade them for anything.”
Isabela abruptly pulled her arm away.
Dolores changed course.
“Luisa?” The woman in question scoffed. “Oh, Luisa!” Dolores sang as she approached, not quite as sweet as she had been for her older cousin. “I love you. I mean… you challenged my preconceived notion that all lesbians were fun to be around.”
Luisa immediately went to hit her but Desconocida had seemingly reappeared and as soon as she caught sight of the headless doll, she decided that the comment wasn’t worth trying to smack Dolores over.
“Oh, Camilo! Camilo, I love you. You are my brother, who has done so much good for our town! How could I not be proud of that?”
“Well, yeah, I was gonna be an organ donor, so thanks,” he retorted, flat.
Dolores, though a little shocked, took the hint and stepped away.
“And—” she found that Desconocida had already moved, now right beside her, offering her headless doll. Dolores scoffed, turning to the suited man. “Her? I mean, this thing is actually going to get a vote tonight?” She cackled at the ridiculousness of it.
Quickly catching herself, her laughter turned more lighthearted.
“But I love her!” She insisted.
To prove the point, she bent down and pressed a brief kiss to Desconocida’s doll’s severed neck. As Dolores promptly then skipped off - her good deed done - Desconocida turned the doll to face her, staring at the lipstick mark in puzzlement.
“My song was a cautionary tale of hubris,” she went on to declare. “You guys know I love you?”
No response.
“I love you?” Dolores called.
Nothing.
“I love you?! I freaking love you guys!” She screamed, circling the contestants once more. “Okay! Okay! So for my real number, I will be singing a song about how much I love you guys.”
Dolores repositioned herself in the centre, standing as gracefully as any choir singer.
“This song is simply called… ‘I Love You Guys’.” She announced.
A spotlight fell on her and a piano began to play.
Taking a breath, she sang operatically, “I love you guys—”
“OH! FOR FUCK’S SAKE, MAKE HER STOP!”
They all turned straight to the one who had interrupted Dolores: Isabela. In a mix of confusion, shock and relief.
Before anyone could do anything more, the blue suited man spoke up again. “Isabela Cristina Rojas Madrigal. Born 7th August, Leo: the aggressive nature. Favourite ride: the bumper carts.”
As the lights changed again, the others left, leaving Isabela as the sole focus. While the others had gone willingly, Dolores moved much more begrudgingly and not without throwing a very betrayed look Isabela’s away. She had been the one to interrupt her moment of redemption.
Isabela sauntered around the space, admiring the various photos of her life that appeared. Occasionally gagging at the ones of her in pink and roses, hand-in-hand with Mariano, her ex-fiancé. The realisation slowly setting in that the majority of the photos were like that. The majority of her life had been a lie, that mask of perfection. She had been killed before she could truly live as herself.
The narration continued, “Early on in Isabela’s life, her parents realised two things. The first…”
There was a pause and Isabela was left stood, awkwardly alone. She was a little offended when she realised what he meant. Yeah, she gets it. Everyone worked out she was a lesbian before she did. He doesn’t need to rub it in.
“The second was her passion for all things competition. While other kids played house in harmony, Isabela was determined to be the best pretend mother in the playground. Perhaps, combined with the pressure from such a high status family, is what doomed her down a path of unmeasurable perfectionism.”
As this was being said Dolores reappeared, controlled, in some dark shawl, vaguely reminiscent of their Abuela. Camilo brought on a chair, setting it in the centre of the room, just behind Isabela. She had gone to take the seat herself, assuming that’s what it was for, but she found herself forced there by one of Dolores’ hands on her shoulder. The other hand repositioned her, keep her sat straight and perfect. Not a hair out of place. It way Isabela’s shoulders automatically setting themselves back and holding her head higher that sent a shiver down her back.
Old habits die hard, her mother use to say. Isabela wouldn’t know. She hadn’t lived long enough to truly break from them.
“Isabela was a model for her town and the hope for her future, when her abuela passed. She was to be the best of women, best of brides and wives, betrothed to the best suitor Encanto could offer her, Mariano Guzmán. A match that would have done so much for her family. A match that she failed to deliver on, disappointing everyone.”
Isabela snapped, “You can’t say that—”
She was completely ignored.
The next time she tried to open her mouth, she found she physically couldn’t. Just left to watch in horror - she couldn’t get up with Dolores still holding her in place - as the other placed disgustingly pink bouquets of flowers at her feet.
“Following the reconciliation of the family, Isabela tried hard to pull herself from the chains she had helped build. Determined to find herself as quickly as possible, either as part of a competition or refusing to delve into her feelings too much. The messy, flawed parts of her are buried under the mass of petals and praise that had become so customary. And so she remains, the rose without a thorn. Isabela Madrigal, the most perfect girl in town.”
The lights returned to normal, the others didn’t reappear instantly and so nobody came to collect any of the props surrounding her.
Isabela waited a moment for something to happen, but nothing did. The blue suited man seemed to be more interested in fixing the cuff of his sleeve than even looking at her.
She scoffed, “So that’s it then? I’m either a fucking drug addict or just some flawless angel?”
He hummed thoughtfully, finally flicking his eyes back onto her. “You sound upset. It’s almost like you have lost a competition or something - you don’t have to worry, it is not time to vote for a winner yet. There’s still time for you to plead your case.”
“Listen here, you fucking.. whatever you are, you don’t know anything about me or my life.” Isabela said, stalking up to him so quickly, she almost stripped over the stool leg. “You don’t know what it was like growing up in that family, with real gifts, in that town that kept us away from the rest of the world. I didn’t want to be some perfect flower girl and I wanted to fucking live! I wanted to love, I wanted to feel. I wanted to drink myself to death on the cup of life. You have just picked pieces from my life to share - no mention to my cacti or how I could have done better. Hell, no mention to me being a figure of beauty! Was that not interesting enough for your little narrative?”
The mysterious man barely even blinked at her.
“You judgemental dick,” she hissed. “Happily swanned over Dolores for being able to read a school book, but you have nothing to say for me?”
“You’re right. I feel that now is the perfect occasion for a song about the romancing of the Madrigals’ golden child,” he announced, making Isabela exclaim. Without warning, he handed her the microphone and sent her back to the centre of the warehouse. “Cue the harp, fresh from Isabela’s funeral!”
Somewhere out of sight, Luisa gave a response of “On it!”
Isabela looked appalled. “I don’t want to sing about that!”
“Oh!” Dolores squeaked, suddenly reappearing and running up to take Isabela’s place. “If she doesn’t want to sing, I will happily go again—”
She practically screamed in frustration. “Can you keep your beak out of it for one second, you nosy bitch!?”
Nobody said anything. Isabela took a breath to calm herself.
“Fine,” she supplied. Dolores huffed off, insulted written all over her face. “In my life, I was Isabela Madrigal, Señorita Perfecta of our small town. But… in my dreams, I played a different role. I was a normal woman, in post-war Bogotá.. a hooker with a heart of black charcoal.”
~~~~~~
14th September 1950, six hours before the accident
“Again! I almost had Luisa that time!”
“You wish,” Luisa muttered, ruffling Isabela’s hair as she passed through the exit.
“No, we aren’t going on the bumper carts again.” Dolores complained, rubbing at the back of her neck. “You’ve given me at least twelve cases of whiplash in the past hour, Isa. It’s someone else’s turn to ride with you.”
“You pulled the short straw, hermana. It’s what you get.” Camilo retorted.
Luisa clapped her hand together, making Dolores wince. “So! Where are we headed next? There’s still loads we haven’t been on.”
“I’m not going on anything. Not with Isabela.”
“Don’t be like that, Dolores. We’ve got the whole day to go.”
Isabela twirled on the spot, eyeing up each of the potential rides, stalls and games. If she wasn’t getting to go on the bumper carts again, she was determined to pick the next activity. If she left it to the others, she’d be dragged on something boring where she’d have no chance of demolishing Luisa like she—
“There! Let’s do some of those games!” Camilo pointed to the left hand side.
“I suppose we did promise to win something for Antonio,” Dolores mumbled, already following.
“What?” Isabela exasperated. “You’re just going to do Camilo’s idea?”
Luisa pulled an arm around Isabela’s shoulder guiding her along, “I’m sure we’ll come back to the bumper carts, Bela. I look forward to crushing you again.”
“Bold words coming from someone who was sweating in fear.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself.”
Isabela was expecting that the game stools wouldn’t be of much interest to her. The prizes sure weren’t - what would she do with some ballon animal or doll or plushie? But the bragging she could do if she beat Luisa on one of these, not all of them were tests of strength either; it would be a fair playing field.
Unfortunately for her. They weren’t as easy as they had appeared.
Camilo had given up after failing to knock over a tower of tin cans at one of the stalls, so Dolores had been made to take him to the various food carts, in the hopes of shutting or cheering up her brother. Isabela, always fuelled by competitiveness, refused to leave. And even if she didn’t care about the prizes, she was starting to get a little frustrated by Luisa’s growing haul of items.
Bruno looked very overwhelmed when they next ran into him.
“Um, what exactly do you plan to do with all of those?” He asked. Luisa just shrugged, arms full. “You’re going to leave me with them, aren’t you? Dolores left hers with me.”
Isabela spat out her drink. “Dolores won something?”
“Yeah, some toy ducks, one with a heart on it. She’s going to give it to Mariano later.”
“She probably cheated with her gift somehow.”
“All you had to do was hook the duck on a stick—”
“Nobody asked you, Luisa.”
Luisa burst out laughing, before going on to ask if it was okay for her to leave (at least some of) her winnings with Bruno for a bit. To which he agreed, if Luisa found a more transportable way of moving them.
As Luisa sped off in search of a bag, Isabela took the opportunity to wander around by herself. She wasn’t a child. She could go around by herself. It didn’t strike her as odd at first, but people just kept staring at her and she racked her brain for what exactly could be the reason. Everyone was use to her messy appearance by now, right? And then it hit her. She had never been out in public alone before - she always had Abuela or Mariano right by her side, holding her hand. Even now, she was always with Dolores or some other member of her family. What the fuck was wrong with people? Why couldn’t she walk by herself?
A hand slipped into her own and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Lola, you’re never gonna believe wha—”
She was abruptly turned around and made to face someone who was definitely not Dolores. He was shorter and awkward, and way too close into her personal space. Though he had aged since she had last seen him, she remembered the face of Bubo Marquez, an old classmate of hers and Dolores’.
“Um,” she said. “You’re not Dolores.”
“Oh no, definitely not. I’m Bubo. We use to go to school together?” He asked.
“Yeah, I remember - I know who you are. I’ve seen you around town and stuff…” she glanced around. The townspeople still seemed to be staring at her, though not in object horror as before. If anything they looked pleased. “Can I help you with something?” She managed.
“I couldn’t help but notice that you were alone here, so I thought that I might keep you company.”
“Thanks, but I’m actually with—”
She didn’t finish, attempting to look for Dolores. Or Luisa. Or anyone. Just someone who could help her. She wasn’t that far from Bruno a minute ago. Why couldn’t she see him?
“It’s okay,” Bubo was saying, when Isabela started paying attention again. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about being seen with me or anything. I spoke to your mother and abuela yesterday, they were both okay with it.”
Isabela couldn’t breathe.
“Okay with what?” She whispered, unintentionally.
The whispering was immediately taken the wrong way, as Bubo pressed closer against her. Her back hitting a wooden board of some ride behind her, his eyes basically at level with her breasts.
If he had spoken to Mama and Abuela, and she didn’t know about it until now, it had to have been in public. With so much going on, Dolores wouldn’t have heard it specifically and couldn’t have told her about it. That’s why the townspeople suddenly looked so pleased. They knew he had asked, they knew that he was trying to court her. Because, of course, Isabela Madrigal, the most precious flower, must be claimed by some man.
“Ah!” A third voice called. One of the employees of the fairground in a pinstriped suit, smirking down at them from behind a moustache. “Two young lovers! Are you looking for a ride on the Tunnel of Love?”
She raised an eyebrow before looking at the ride she found herself beside. A heart-shaped tunnel full of pretty red boats and an air that smelt of perfume and sweat.
Bubo’s eyes practically sparkled. “Absolutely—”
“No!” She squawked, she suddenly pushed him from her, making him stumble backwards. Before he could catch his balance or try to catch her hand for support, he was yanked straight to the ground by her vines. She hadn’t even created them consciously - they just appeared.
The employee furrowed his brow. “Is everything alright, señorita?”
Everyone was staring at her.
She pulled a hand through her hair, mentally screaming at herself to calm down. Why was she so upset? Why was everyone watching her? Behave yourself, you’re in public, that old voice whispered in her head. What would Abuela say?
She ran, pushing past people in a flurry of jacarandas. Before she knew it, she was crashing into the back of Luisa.
“There you are! I thought you’d gone off to try bribe or threaten someone to let you win one of their games,” Luisa teased, playfully nudging her in the side. “Come back and brag how you had won some ultimate prize, and how much better you were than me.”
Bruno reached a hand for her shoulder. “Is everything okay, sobrina? You look a little—”
“I’m great,” she replied, quickly. The pair of them both looked at her weirdly, clearly unconvinced. She could do this though. She was a good actress if she managed to keep everyone fooled with graceful poses and sweet smiles for so long. She settled her gaze back onto Luisa. “Ha, I tried! Apparently threatening people with cacti isn’t allowed,” she mocked. “Anyways, let’s go find Lola and Milo.”
#encanto#encanto ride the cyclone au#my writing#isabela madrigal#luisa madrigal#dolores madrigal#camilo madrigal#antonio madrigal#bruno madrigal#mirabel madrigal#julieta madrigal#alma madrigal#mariano guzmán#bubo marquez
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People who say that Isabela can't be lesbian because of Bubo always make me laugh so freaking much
Really, why don't people take into account a moment that had been scrapped and therefore isn't canon anymore? Hmm....
#encanto#isabela madrigal#lesbian isa for life#bubo marquez#i headcanon them as besties because of that moment in scrapped credits where they shown to have a sparring
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The "putting my face in my taller gfs boobas" meme but with isabubo
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Isa and girl!Bubo dancing the Hand Jive from Grease 🎶
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From your Casa Brainrot Discord Secret Santa, Merry Christmas, @slingerapen !
For Christmas, Isabela exchanges monkey face orchids with Girl!Bubo, who gives her flower-shaped mantises.
#merry xmas#merry christmas#happy holidays#encanto fanart#secret santa#isabela madrigal#isabela x bubo#girl bubo#digital art#medibangpaint#medibang art#fanart#medibang paint#aeshna's art
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idk who needs to hear this but people don’t hate isabela x bubo because he’s a man and a nerd. We hate him because HE COVERED HIMSELF IN ANIMAL PISS
#like who even came up w that#encanto#encanto disney#disneys encanto#isabela madrigal#I’m still an isa is a lesbian truther#bubo don’t come back for the potential series#or anything actually#did we forget how traumatized mirabel was seeing that#isa deserves BETTER
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@encanto-extended-edition
WEEK 1: OC INTRODUCTION
You can read my Bruno x OC fanfic on Tiktok at SneezyArtFitsVids! The series is called Picking Up the Pieces.
Days before his 15th birthday, Bruno chases after a troublesome individual who stole one of his bad visions right under his nose. Conney and Bruno try to get through life's brutal beat downs together, separated and reunited over and over. Loving and losing. Picking up the pieces and starting chapters. Is it salvagable?
#encanto#encanto oc#encanto oc appreciation#encantober#encantober 2023#conney#ezekiel#susanna and evren#abuela amista#oscar and therese#francis and viela#original characters#bubo marquez#encanto oc event
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Something I found ironic about the deleted Bubo and Isabela storyline is that I felt like the dynamic was much better suited for a young Julieta and Augustin instead. The perfect golden child of the Madrigal set apart from the rest slated to marry the perfect man her mother picked out for her only to fall in love with this sweet nerdy looking guy who actually sees her for who she is as a person rather than this perfect paragon the way everyone else does. Their match is frowned upon at first but eventually it becomes clear that they love each other and make the other very happy.
#encanto#julieta madrigal#augustin madrigal#isabela madrigal#bubo marquez#encanto deleted scene#backstory#augustin x julieta
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“I sleep down here sometimes,” Isabela confessed.
Bubo rocked side to side, experimenting, and the whole lily pad swayed. “Seems like it would be comfortable, until you roll off it.”
“I’m a very sound sleeper.”
“Like Snow White?” Bubo wiggled her eyebrows. “Gotta be woken up with a kiss?”
Madrigal Days, day 3: first kiss! Rise up, wlw IsaBubo nation!
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Doors (Chapter 47) Meanwhile
Hello.
So as the title of this chapter says... meanwhile...
Just needed to catch up with a few folks I've lost track of... Anyway, Alma is tired. Bruno is just being Bruno. Mira just can't seem to shut out her intrusive thoughts. Bubo's Tío is not at all sure he's making the right decision and Isabela is a bit miffed, being the oldest is such a pain sometimes.
-------------------------
Meanwhile...
Alma was now sitting by herself as Rodrigo was speaking with José a few meters away. Julieta’s handling of the newcomers had been just about flawless. When she told her about Doris’s reaction to being unknowingly magically healed, Alma agreed with her daughter’s assessment that the Doctor should be there. Spending the entire day in the plaza handing out pieces of herself was something Alma never appreciated how wearing it was for her daughter. Though she doubted Julieta would ever deny anyone healing, it was a good thing that she was learning to better assess whether people truly needed her magical help.
Casita clattered some floor tiles near Julieta, and Alma looked toward her daughter. The house just said that Tuli had fainted and could she please come to Luisa’s room. Her daughter looked up toward the balcony as she put the photos she was holding back on the table, and she and Agustín headed toward the stairs. Tuli, Alma noted, had been very withdrawn during dinner. Hardly eating and barely taking her eyes off her Tío. Pepa was gone and Bruno had finished looking at the pictures and was now back in the chair he vacated earlier.
Bruno pulled his chair closer as he watched his sister leave and asked her quietly, “Something happen?”
Alma leaned closer and said, “Tuli has fainted, and Juli is going to check on her.”
Bruno nodded and said, “Then she’s in good hands. Ummm, Mamá there’s a photo over there… ”
Alma thought she knew which one he was talking about and asked gently, “The one of the little boy?”
Bruno nodded and Alma said, “It is a picture of my hermanito. He unfortunately passed during an outbreak of cholera when he was almost two. He was the only boy, and my mother wanted at least one picture of him.”
Bruno sat back for a moment then nodded. Alma realized she’d never shared with her children why they were named the way they were. Because they had been forced to flee the night they were born, Alma had relied on the conversations she and Pedro had had before they were born to decide what she would call them. She noticed Bruno was pulling at the sleeve of his ruana. He obviously hadn’t quite gotten over his overuse of his Gift earlier in the day. He looked over at Rodrigo and José and asked, “So, did they say how long they will be in town?”
“Rodrigo said he plans to stay for several weeks. He wants to interview people about what he called the thousand-day war. I am not sure about José, though. Probably a few weeks at best.”
“You think he’ll let Tuli stay here. I don’t think she’d do well any place else.”
“I agree, however, he is her guardian, so we have to respect his decision.”
“I know, I’m just worried she’ll try something desperate.”
Alma nodded and looked past him when Agustín returned. He went over and spoke briefly with José. Rodrigo said something and took the photos José was holding, and left with Agustín in the direction of the stairs. Camilo’s door opened and he and Mirabel came out of his room. Alma got up as Pepa returned and Rodrigo came over as well. He handed the photos to Pepa, thanked them for dinner, then asked them to let José know he would wait for news about Tuli back at the camp. Rodrigo’s non-reaction to this made Alma think this was something that had happened more than once in the past. She noticed Luisa came out of her room at a normal speed, so was probably headed for the kitchen to fetch something for Julieta. Alma headed for the stairs and Pepa caught up after putting away the other photos and grabbing the box. Bruno had already gone somewhere else, that made Alma think that he was trying to ward off a vision, or maybe he just went to the kitchen.
Reaching the top, Alma felt exhausted and gripped the wall for support.
Pepa was now right next to her and asked, “You alright, Mamá? You look a little pale.”
Alma nodded, paused and then shook her head. “I am feeling a bit tired, Pepita.”
Since her illness, Alma was learning she needed to take the Doctor’s warnings about her health very seriously. She took the arm that her daughter offered, and after a moment, they headed toward Luisa’s room. Mirabel and Camilo were lingering there, so Pepa shooed them further down the hall as Luisa returned with a basin and some towels. She came out and joined them as the front door opened. Isa and Bubo came in and headed directly toward the back stairs. Luisa met them and had Bubo go into her room, then once Isabela joined them, they all went to Mirabel’s room to wait for Julieta. Some tiles shifted nearby, and Mirabel said, “The Doctor’s here.”
Dolores appeared in Mira’s room shortly after that, and went to the window where Isabela was standing. Alma hoped her nieta’s date went well, since she’d been so looking forward to it. Bubo Márquez was probably the furthest sort of person Alma would have thought Isa would be interested in, but Alma had to admit, she liked the young man. Isa leaned into Dolores and asked her prima a question, and Dolores replied something very softly. When Isa asked her another question, Dolores nodded, and Isa frowned before giving her prima’s arm a squeeze, then turned and plopped onto the sofa nearby. Dolores remained at the window and sat on the bench watching something outside. Probably Mariano. Alma had concluded that Dolores knew that neither Mariano nor Isabela had wanted the relationship she’d pushed them into, but was unable to say anything. The signs had been there, but Alma had been blind to the obvious for too long.
Luisa picked up a book off a shelf and draped herself over the arms of the overstuffed chair and started reading. Pepa left with Camilo to get the tray in his room and make a snack for Tuli. Pepa mentioned that she’d noticed Tuli had hardly touched her food and thought that could be a part of what had caused Tuli to faint. Mirabel was lingering near the door and Alma indicated she should come with her toward her room, and Mira reluctantly followed.
“This will only take a moment,” Alma said, “I just wanted to let you know that you are doing a wonderful job of looking after Tuli. I can see it was the right decision to put her in your care.” Mirabel’s worried expression faded, and she smiled. Alma gave Mirabel a hug as she added, “I’m going to bed now. I’m sure Tuli is alright, your Tía mentioned she thought Tuli was not eating enough, so she went to make her a snack. Did studying with Camilo go well?”
“Oh yeah, we got through all of it. So, he should do well for his testing tomorrow.”
“That is good news. Good night, Mirabel.”
“Good night, Abuela. So, you want the door shut?”
Alma nodded, so Mirabel left and closed the door behind her. Alma sat on her bed. She’d already decided whatever it was that was bothering her nieta was tied to the breaking, so when Valentina commented on that as she was measuring her for the new clothes, Alma paid attention. She told Alma about how Mira was blindly stacking cookies in her kitchen and was so focused on that task that she was oblivious to everything around her. Valentina was of the mind that after living with their nieta for almost a year, she did not think Mira had come to terms with Casita dying the way that it did. It wasn’t guilt that it had happened, though that was a small part of it, but more the guilt that she’d so ‘easily’ set aside that sorrow to help her family. Fear that it could happen again if she wasn’t hyper-vigilant. This was what was making Mirabel anxious and Casita somewhat unpredictable. Julieta had mentioned that Mira’s sleepwalking was always tied to her anxiety, and Alma could see that anxiety was very tied to herself. Her relationship with Julieta’s youngest child, since the breaking, she thought had been improving. But appearances could be deceiving, and Mirabel seemed reluctant to tell anyone what was bothering her.
Alma realized that Mira was dealing with her loss in a way not unlike what she had done. She’d pushed Pedro’s loss so far down that there was barely enough of her old self left to raise her three babies. She understood how hard it could be to control those parts of yourself. She’d only just gotten settled into her own routines when her children were given their Gifts. This, once again, threw her world into chaos. Alma realized she should have been more willing to ask for help dealing with that new reality, but instead she doubled down. Wanting, no needing, to control everything to keep her babies from harm. Valentina also told Alma in no uncertain terms that she needed to give Mira time and maybe help her find a way to grieve for the loss of her best friend. She was concerned for Mirabel and admonished Alma to not overwhelm the girl with petty day-to-day things.
Alma changed into her bed clothes and Casita turned down the lights as she sat with a blanket in the rocking chair near the window. She was still tired but knew she would not be able to sleep yet, so she looked out over the town as she rubbed the locket she was holding. She did not open it, doing so would only lead to that remembered sadness. Alma paused and thought, perhaps this was what people had been trying to tell her… she looked down at her hands and popped open the latch. Valentina was a very perceptive woman and also added that Alma, too, needed to deal with her own loss if she was going to be able to help Mirabel with hers. She stared at Pedro’s beautiful face and said, “Tomorrow, I will take our children through that yellow door and share the joy you gave me on that day.” In her mind, she saw her husband smile, and this made Alma smile too.
------------------------------
Mirabel closed her Abuela’s door and quickly went back to her own to see if anything was happening outside of Luisa’s room. She did not want to impose on Dolores just because she was curious. She was still getting used to being ‘in charge’ of anything and knew her prima would tell her if she’d heard something she really needed to know. Isa looked worried as she stared out the window. When they were washing dishes, her sister had said that she and Tuli had a good talk while they were working in the fields. Tuli, it seemed, wanted to learn French because she planned to go to France one day to learn ballet. Isa had offered to teach her what she knew since she learned some French from Abuela when she was younger. Mirabel had learned what Isa knew by lurking in the background during her lessons. Sometimes being invisible had its little perks.
Casita shuffled a tile nearby and Mirabel stepped further back into her room and then heard Luisa’s door open. The Doctor, her mother and Tuli’s Tío came into the hall. The door closed, so Bubo must still be in there. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but what no one knew, except possibly Dolores, was that when Mirabel put a hand on any flat surface, Casita could and would talk to her. It was really just a series of thumps, and Mira always had to really concentrate to understand any of it. Tuli’s Tío, aside from looking mildly irritated, was listening closely to what the Doctor was telling him.
While Casita relayed what was being said, Mirabel knew this was totally eavesdropping, but she just had to know. When she’d given Tuli the Rosary earlier, she felt that disturbing wave of hopelessness she’d noticed before. Tuli needed something and Mirabel was very worried about her honorary hermanita. She needed to think of a way to help her, but she didn’t have a clue as to how she should go about that. She looked over at Luisa, who was watching her from over her book. Mirabel smiled, and her sister cocked an eyebrow at her. Luisa noticed so much more than anyone gave her credit for. She was a lot like their Mamá in that way.
The conversation in the hall had ended, and Dolores moved away from the window and pulled at Luisa’s sleeve. Her sister got up and followed their prima into the hall. As they passed her, Luisa gave her a look that told Mira she knew she was up to something. Mirabel watched them and saw her mother waving to her, so Mira came out of her room to join her sister. Dolores was headed back toward her room and smiled at Mira as she passed her. Mirabel reached her mother and sister and her Mamá said, “Mira, Tuli will be spending tonight in Luisa’s room, so can you head up to the tower and find a nightgown and some clothes for tomorrow?”
Mira nodded and started for the tower stairs. As she neared the top, she realized a light was already on and thought, that's weird. She came into the room to find her Tío Bruno perched atop a mess of once neatly folded clothes, holding a small bundle. He had his eyes closed but did not have his hood up, so probably not a sponty, but she was curious as to what he was doing there. Mirabel couldn’t see everything he had, but it all appeared to be folded neatly. Her Tío had been acting a bit odd since before supper, but maybe he would explain, so she asked tentatively, “Tío?”
Bruno’s eyes popped open, and he said, “Mira! Just the sobrina I was hoping to run into!” His tone sounded unusually restless.
“Okay… ”
He waved for her to come closer, so Mirabel did, and she asked, “You okay Tío?”
“Never better,” he said as if he were not sitting atop a table with clothing piled up beneath him. The silence stretched and Mira said, “Tío, I’m supposed to… ” she pointed to the clothes her uncle was sitting on, and he responded, “I know,” and held out the bundle.
Mirabel took it and asked, “What’s this?”
“Clothes… nightgown… Antonio picked them out,” his said earnestly.
Well, that was why she’d come up there, still… “Isn’t Antonio in bed?” Mirabel asked.
“Yes.”
He said nothing else, and it was still not an answer. Mirabel noticed his hands were twitching a bit as he pulled at the cuffs of his new ruana. He’d already pulled a few threads loose, and Mira resisted the urge to find a pair of scissors.
“Thanks, Tío,” Mirabel said as she started to turn but stopped and looked at him again and asked, “You're sure you’re doing okay?”
He didn’t move for a moment, just stared through her, then abruptly nodded. Mirabel tilted her head and was met with silence, so she headed toward the stairs. As she reached the bottom, she pulled up short to keep from running into her Papá who was carrying a somewhat large box.
“I see your mother has you running errands too, Corazón," he said as she fell into step with him.
Mirabel nodded and said, “Just went to get Tuli some clothes for tomorrow.” Mirabel was somewhat concerned for her Tío and said, "Ummm Pá … Tío Bruno was… ummm… you know, never mind.”
Her Father nodded, but it was clear he was curious. They reached Luisa’s room and Mira knocked, and waited until Casita opened the door for them. Her father looked around, and her mother shrugged at his unspoken question. He set the box inside the door, then left the room, closing the door behind him. Mira noticed then that only her mother, Tuli and Luisa were here, and Mira wondered where Isa, Bubo and his Tío went. She put down her bundle and leaned back into the door with her hands behind her. Casita started telling her something that caused Mirabel to involuntarily let out a bark of laughter. Everyone was now looking at her, so Mira quickly scrunched her hands in front of herself and smiled weakly. Luisa was again looking at her with suspicion, her mother just rolled her eyes, while Tuli just looked confused.
Her mother waved her over, and Mira retrieved the bundle as she stepped away from the door. Tuli got off the bed and Mira handed Tuli the package and said, “There’s a nightgown and some fresh clothes for tomorrow. Luisa usually gets up pretty early, so heads up for that.”
Her mother gave her a look and Mirabel resisted the urge to run into the hall, but her mother then turned to Tuli and said, “Get some rest, and we’ll see how you're feeling in the morning. The school will be reopening tomorrow and since you’ll be staying for a while, Mira will be going with you to get you registered.”
“Will Antonio be going?”
“Yes, but he is in a lower grade.”
“Oh,” Tuli replied and nodded.
“Get some sleep, you’ve had an exciting day, and tomorrow will be too,” her mother said, and to Luisa her mother added, “There are some extra pillows and blankets in the box.”
Luisa nodded and said, “Thanks, Mamá.”
Her mother nodded as she handed Luisa a small bottle, giving her instructions on how it should be used. She said goodnight, then gave them both a hug saying, “Buenas noches, dulces sueños, hijas.”
Tuli was clutching her stuffed rat and had a curious smile, as if she was remembering something pleasant. Mirabel started when her mother tugged at her shirt, and Mira left with her. She looked over the rail and saw Isa sitting in the courtyard with their father. He had his arms crossed and Isa was mirroring his position in the chair across from him. Her mother looked down at the pair and sighed. She turned to Mira, saying, “I think it’s time you headed for bed as well, Mira. We’ll discuss what’s needed to get Tuli registered tomorrow.” Mirabel reluctantly looked away and back at her mother, who added, “I am also going to ask you to not listen in on private conversations, Mira, however tempting it may be.”
Mirabel shrunk in on herself a little and nodded in reply. How did she know that? Mira thought. Her mother noticed her chagrin as she took Mira’s face in her hands and said after she kissed the top of her head, “I know you don’t mean any harm, Corazón. Good night, Mira. Dulces sueños.”
“Good night, Mamá,” Mirabel replied, then headed to her room. She’d been found out already. Though she wondered how her mother knew, she figured it was probably something the prior Casita was capable of. Which made her wonder if perhaps her mother had used that as well. She did tend to turn up at the most random times… usually when Mirabel and Camilo were planning something prankish. Well, she supposed, it really was just eavesdropping and being nosey would surely lead to trouble. Mirabel changed into her nightgown and pulled on her robe. Casita turned down the lights as she sat on the window seat and looked out at the town. For so many years, she’d been an outsider in her own community. Now she was smack in the middle of everything.
There was always the underlying feeling she just shouldn’t be in charge of anything. Mirabel really had forgiven her abuela for a lot of what happened after discovering the underlying cause of it all, and she just couldn’t find it within herself to hold a grudge. She was genuinely happy to see her family back together, with actual hope for their futures.
She pulled her robe tighter when an errant breeze blew in. She felt unusually calm, so decided it was probably for the best that Camilo had managed to get her to admit she was still having problems with the breaking. He let her ramble and blubber for a little bit, then had her laughing about the ways Casita would often aide and abet them with their shenanigans. She thought about what she wanted to do tomorrow. Breakfast, then getting Tuli ready to start school, go to her abuelos shop and help with the sewing, go see the twins, and thank them for their work on the costumes… there was something else she was forgetting. She concentrated on that, but it was not coming back to her, so she let her thoughts wander as she watched the lights in town going out one by one.
Mirabel’s eyes drifted up… she could just see the edge of the tower from here, and she thought about the doors up there. It was for certain that they were all tied to her abuela, none had existed prior to her going up there that first day. Maybe they were remnants of the first Casita and Mira thought, it would be wonderful if they were. A lot of the materials used to build this house came from the old, though, her Casita still insisted they did not know where they originated. When she thought about it, that made sense, since there were lots of things about her own mother she didn’t know, nor had she bothered to ask.
She watched some fireflies as they flitted in and out of sight. Mira decided she was going to need to figure out exactly how she and Tuli were related. She was curious what her Abuela’s sister was like. Bubo’s Tío called Rodrigo primo, but she was not sure if that was by marriage or what. She was going to need to talk to Bubo, or maybe she could get Isa to ask. She was also curious as to how Antonio had picked out Tuli’s clothes. She was pretty sure Antonio had been in bed the entire time Tuli had been with Luisa.
She smiled as she thought of Antonio’s enthusiasm to learn how to speak to the bugs of the Encanto. Bubo had shown him and Tuli the best way to catch them, and Antonio was a little disappointed he wasn’t able to understand them. He still wanted to talk to them but said it was just too hard. Mira wasn’t sure if that was because he hadn’t figured it out or if it was because he would need to practice… a lot. He commented that Tuli was a bit of a scaredy-cat but was getting braver all the time. That said a lot coming from her primo. He was quiet but tended to be a bit blunt.
“Casita?” The tiles near the window shuffled and Mira asked, “Do you think Tuli’s going to be okay? I’m really worried about her. Sometimes... I can feel a hopelessness, and I know her Tío said she can stay… I just hope nothing happens that would change his mind.” The house tiles moved again, and Mira sighed and added, “No, it wouldn’t be right, so please don’t do that.” More tiles moved and Mira said a little more forcefully, “Seriously, Casita, don’t do that. Promise?” there was a short silence, then another shift. “Thanks.”
Mirabel was tapping the sill and feeling really wide awake. She was tired earlier, but now… not so much. She looked back at her door. It glowed softly in the darkened room. She’d always dreamed of having a door like the rest of her family, and still did to a certain extent, but this door was different. It was a tangible connection between Casita, her Abuela and herself. The shimmering oak depicted made her think of that oak tree Isa had created earlier. Mira was fairly certain it was in the same area as the one she used to climb when she was a kid, and leaned out to get a better look. It really was too dark to see, but the outline was there. Mirabel stepped up onto the window seat, then climbed out onto the windowsill. She let her feet dangle for a few moments before she eased herself onto the roof.
Casita clattered a tile nearby and Mirabel responded, “I’ll be careful, and don’t go telling everyone what I’m up to.” There was another louder burst and Mirabel hissed, “Chitón, you’ll wake everybody up.” Casita waggled one of the shutters and Mira sighed and said, “Sorry, I don’t mean to snap, but I can take care of myself and if Mamá or Pá finds out, I’ll get yelled at.” Mira patted the sill again and said as she pulled her robe tight, “I’ll be back before you know it.”
Mirabel headed along the roof tiles toward a trellis that was at the side of the house. She ducked as she passed the windows along the way. Hopefully, everyone was asleep but why chance it? She quickly climbed down and ran toward the great tree that Isa had said named itself Anselmo.
-----------------------------------
Rodrigo Iguarán was writing quickly when the tip of his pencil snapped. He glared at the small hole the pencil created and sat back as he tried to remember where in his pack he’d put his pocketknife. He was absently tapping on his notebook but looked up when the tent flap opened, and José stepped in. José’s face held a deep frown as he sat down on the only chair and let out something akin to a growl.
“Something wrong, Gabi?”
“No.” His answer was abrupt, and after a moment added, “Maybe… ” he growled again then shook his head and said “No.” He took off his shoes, then carefully positioned them under his cot. Rodrigo watched him go about moving all the items in the tent that were not quite where he thought they should be. Something was bothering his primo enough that he was adjusting everything in eye shot. This was a habit he’d gotten from his Abuelo. Whenever his Abuela regaled them of the magical, and his Abuelo was there, he too would begin adjusting the physical world to suit himself.
“How is Tuli?” Rodrigo asked.
“Tuli is fine. The Doctor said they need to eat more and rest.”
“Well, that’s good news,” Rodrigo said cheerfully. José only grunted in reply, so Rodrigo asked, “For how long?”
José looked at his hands then said, “A minimum of six weeks, possibly longer.”
“Ooof, so will you be staying or were you planning to take Tuli and go anyway?”
José didn’t answer right away. Instead, he was busy adjusting a stack of clothing that he’d taken from his pack. Rodrigo watched as he matched up all the corners and thought he’s definitely not happy with this development. José moved back to the chair and said as he rubbed his knees, “I’ve agreed that Tuli can remain here as long as he stays with the Madrigals, so he’ll be staying when I leave.”
Rodrigo was taken aback, while it was true, they were all related, it was out of character that José would allow for something like this. He knew part of the problem was he still saw Bubo as a child. As Bubo said, he’d not been one for some time and even if he tended to be impulsive, he was not a fool. The other part was if he did leave Tuli behind, he would have failed in his purpose for this journey. If the Doctor was saying Tuli should stay, his primo would have to take that into his decision making. All during their journey, José had said that when (he never said ‘if’) they found Tuli, they would head back to Bogotá as soon as possible. José must have caught his look because he asked, “You think leaving Tuli a mistake?”
“Honestly?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
His cousin appeared to be hoping for a different answer because he frowned and asked, “Then you agree that Bubo would be a better guardian?”
Rodrigo took a deep breath before he replied cautiously, “In this instance… probably?”
“Probably?”
There was a hint of anger in his voice that made Rodrigo add, “Gabi, if you’ve suddenly changed your mind, or you’re looking for someone to shout at, then fine, shout away. But at least don’t lie to yourself. If you leave with Tuli, you’ll end up in the same cycle of nonsense that created the situation that caused her to run in the first place. I know it, Bubo knows it, and you know it too.”
“You said ‘her’.”
Rodrigo clenched his teeth and said sharply, “Quit saying that, I know what I said, Gabi, and so what? I know that it’s your decision, but perhaps you should be willing to see if he will do better than they have in the past. You must see how incredibly blessed you are that Tuli found their way to this place alive. I don’t even want to think about what that smuggler did to them.”
José deflated some as he let out a sigh and said, “I know. I’m sorry.”
Rodrigo took a deep breath, he was determined not to be angry, so asked, “What did the Doctor say?”
“He said, for the most part, Tuli’s physically alright but only just. Too thin and probably not sleeping. Fragile was the word he used.” José laid back on the cot, covering his eyes with his arm. He was quiet for a time, then added, “I’m not sure why I was under the delusion that Tuli…” he stopped as he uncovered his eyes and stared at his hands. “Maria’s been haunting my dreams of late. Telling me what a fool I’ve been and how could I have let this happen to her. Sometimes it feels like…” he trailed off as Rodrigo finished his primo’s thought in his head; Your sister guided Tuli here and away from you. Still, Rodrigo resisted the urge to mention he’d called Tuli ‘her’. Little by little, his primo was learning to accept Tuli’s reality, he just hadn’t realized it yet.
It was probably for the best. José’s own fiancé, Mercedes, had told Rodrigo privately that her husband-to-be should find a way to send Tuli back to their abuelos or ask another of his married brothers to take her in. Tuli was clearly withering in his care, and his refusal to see those effects was not helping. This included his not using Tuli’s given name, which she said was nothing more than him being spiteful. He needed to learn he couldn’t control everything, try though he may.
Rodrigo looked away and reached into his pack to locate his pocketknife. His thoughts turned to his own fiancé. Juana had admonished him to not stay away for too long chasing his stories. The lure of so many folks that had survived the thousand-day war was going to be difficult to resist, and he did need to get back to Cartagena. He wondered then where Bubo was, so asked, “Bubo back at the Aguilars?”
“Yes, we stopped there, and he showed me the tiny storeroom he’s been living in. Very spartan.”
“Tiny? Is he living in a closet?”
“No… actually, for one person, it’s not too bad.”
“You sound almost disappointed.”
“I would have thought he’d have his own place by now. He’s been here almost a year.”
“You did say he was patrolling the outskirts of the village for the past few months.”
“Yes, I suppose it wouldn’t have mattered.”
“You know, if I didn’t know better, Gabi, I would think you were looking for an excuse.”
“Excuse?”
“Yes, to justify taking Tuli when you go.”
“Tuli’s going to be staying with the Madrigals.” Rodrigo sighed, but his cousin was no longer looking at him as he said, “Rodrigo?”
“Yes Gabi?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Just keep reminding me that I’m not wrong to leave Tuli here.”
“Alright. Just try not to shout at anyone. Especially Bubo, he is a good man.”
“Right.” José said as he caught the ‘man’. He let out a small laugh and added, “He is a good man. Not gonna lie, Bubo being here did make my decision easier. I just wish they had some sort of mail service here. I understand them not having any phones but no electricity?”
“I’m sure we’ll find a way, Gabi. Maybe there is a magical answer.”
José gazed up and nodded and said, “Probably. I saw you were speaking with Señor Félix during dinner; did he mention how the smuggler died?”
“He said it was probably a heart attack.”
“A heart attack?”
“Yes, apparently his youngest son, Antonio, can speak to animals. They believe his son asked the jaguar that landed atop the smuggler to frighten him away, but he ended up scaring him to death.”
“How unusual.”
“Less than he deserved, if you ask me. And to think he traveled with us for almost three weeks. Thank goodness we never found the women and kids he was tracking. Did you know they are also here?”
“No, I hadn’t heard. I’ll need to thank them for looking after Tuli.”
“So, did Bubo happen to mention how his date went? He’s quite taken with the young lady he was sitting with at dinner. You should have seen his face when she walked into the dining room earlier.”
“I can imagine, she is quite beautiful. Still, right now, I am actually more concerned about Señora Vargas causing trouble. I have no illusions that she will, first chance she gets.”
“She is a challenging one. We’ll need to keep an eye on that brood of lackeys she’s collected on the trip here. I’m sure Miguel already told her that Paola was at dinner. That young man… I’ve forgotten his name.”
“The shapeshifter?”
Rodrigo nodded.
“Camilo.”
“Yes, such a remarkable Gift. I wonder if he can shape-shift into anyone. Do you have any plans for dealing with her?”
“Not yet, but... ” José paused and seemed to be working something out in his head. He chuckled to himself and said, “Right, I’m going to bed. Good night Rodrigo.”
--------------------------------
Isabela sat on her bed, feeling foolish after her conversation with her father. The standoff was only broken when her mother appeared and hustled her off to her room. Seriously, what did he think she was going to do? Isa paused when a random thought answered that question, and she blushed. She almost laughed at the irony, since conversations like that one hadn’t been needed when she was dating Mariano. She was never actually alone with him, and went out of her way to not be. That, and Señorita Perfecta would never have even dared to do such things. Obviously, it was her level of interest in Bubo that had prompted her Papá to well… be her Papá. He at least waited until Bubo had left with his Tío.
Her thoughts drifted, and she picked up the potted plumeria rubra she planted, and was very pleased to see three small leaves had unfurled from the cutting. She knew what its flowers looked like and resisted the urge to make the cutting bloom. She took it to the balcony and opened the doors to set outside. The morning sun would definitely help green it up. She was adjusting it when something moving across the lawn caught her eye. Was that Mirabel? Was she sleepwalking? Normally, Isa would ignore this, but she thought she saw the shadow of someone else as she leaned over the rail. Maybe it was her imagination, but then again, Mirabel was now the focus of the magic of the Encanto. She sighed and asked, “Casita, did Mira ask you not to tell anyone she was sneaking out?”
The house clattered yes… then quickly clattered no.
Honestly, Isa thought. She looked at her shoes near the door and decided she didn’t have time for that. She poked her head out of her door, the house was quiet as so she slipped out of her room. She went down the stairs and to the back door. The door wasn’t budging and Casita clattered a tile or two and Isa said, “And you shouldn’t have let her wander off by herself, Casita. Now open the door.”
More tiles clattered angrily, but the back door popped open and Isabela headed in the direction she’d seen her little sister take.
Next Chapter...
Last Chapter:
#encanto#tio bruno#encanto dolores#pepa madrigal#casita#family madrigal#the family madrigal#julieta madrigal#encanto pepa#felix madrigal#abuela alma madrigal#agustin madrigal#encanto fanfic#my fanfic writing#mirabel madrigal#encanto Disney#disney encanto#isabela madrigal#antonio madrigal#camilo madrigal#dolores madrigal#doors#Bubo Márquez#Mariano is a troublemaker#chaosfollowstheMadrigals#encanto trans character
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pov my bf: "i was just looking at the endings for uhh fuck whats his name- rat man"
#i love him sm#hes so silly#irl people#bubo series#gavril#and then he proceeded to call bruno from encanto magic rat man#i want to marry him
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For @jacarandaaaas, based on the premise of “madrigal grandkids having a sleepover.”
Post rebuild, the girls plus Camilo have a sleepover. I have no other words to describe that than chaos ensues.
The Madrigal Sleepover
“—And that is how I told Bubo Marquez to go fuck himself.”
“Oh, you’ve finally gotten back to the point of this story?” Luisa asked, only half-joking because it had definitely taken a good ten minutes to reach the conclusion. Isabela rolled her eyes at her.
“I still can’t believe people think you like men,” Dolores muttered.
“I’m just so proud that I have such an amazing cousin who can kick ass!” Camilo exclaimed. “Seriously, where were you when I was getting bullied in school for being weird? I could have gotten out of so many fights, if I had the ‘my older cousin will beat you up’ excuse! Because frankly the sister one didn’t really work out.”
His sister rolled her eyes, “That is an exaggeration you weren’t bullied in school. Or at the very least, not anything comparable to a man trying to kiss you against your will.”
“No, I guess I can’t relate to that…” Camilo admitted. He looked a bit wishful at the concept of a boy kissing him - he was gladly awaiting his first kiss still. It made Isabela and Luisa gag. “Well, neither can the rest of my cousins. No man would try it with Luisa. And Mirabel…”
He trailed off, all eyes falling to the girl in question. Mirabel was curled up against Luisa, definitely not far from falling asleep. The only movement being the slow rise and fall of her chest. Isabela clambered over Dolores and flashed a torch briefly over her. Briefly because Luisa immediately shoved her older sister into Dolores to shield Mirabel from the attack.
“Christ, Luisa, Mirabel’s fine,” Dolores muttered, pushing Isabela off her and trying to preserve her glass. Isabela fell straight off the bed to the floor, cackling to herself.
Mirabel yawned, eyelashes fluttering, “Is it bedtime yet?”
“Nope,” Isabela grinned, head poking up. “It’s only just turned ten. Come on, you old, little lady, you can’t be tired already. We’ve barely done anything yet. And you missed my great story, I’m gonna have to tell it again.”
“Is this still the one about you threatening to chop a man’s private parts off and feed them to your carnivorous plants?”
“Damnit, you heard? That sucks!”
“Well, I’m not asleep… yet.”
Luisa sat Mirabel further up, tapping her arm gently to further wake her up. “Well, Bela’s right. We haven’t done much yet. You can do a little longer and then we’ll let you go to bed.”
“I physically don’t think I can.” Mirabel said. She was ignored though.
“So, what should we do now?” Camilo asked, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think we should—”
“I swear to God, if you say the ‘switch the alcohol out for water prank’ again,” Dolores warned.
“No, hermana! I would never!” He mocked offence at the accusation. He lifted the yellow blanket beside him to reveal a collection of makeup palettes, lipsticks and several hair accessories. “Makeovers! A staple of all the best sleepovers!”
Dolores and Luisa peered over. The former looked more hesitant, while the latter looked fairly intrigued and even excited by the idea. Mirabel raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the messily kept containers or just the makeup in general - Camilo wasn’t sure, but he knew his cousin wasn’t the biggest fan in “covering her face in chemicals” as she would say.
Isabela, on the other hand, swatted him hard and he spluttered out petals, “Bitch, when did you steal my shit!?”
“Who said anything about stealing? I’m just borrowing it.”
“No, I’m with Isabela,” Dolores piped up. “I didn’t hear you ask her.”
“Okay, okay, I shoulda asked first!” Camilo held his hands up in surrender. “But… can we do makeovers? Please?! Dolores?” Then smirking, “I bet I could make Mariano propose to you.”
Dolores glared at him. “Isabela, be a dear and slap him for me.”
“Gladly!” Isabela did as instructed, making Camilo hit her back. Vines abruptly yanked him off the bed in response.
“Well, I think it’s a good idea,” Luisa offered. “I wouldn’t mind someone doing my makeup. Bela? You want a go?”
“Oh no, if we’re doing this, I wanna do Dolores.” Isabela insisted, already grabbing her cousin’s hand to prevent her from running off.
“Hey, she’s my sister!” Cried Camilo as he dragged himself back onto the bed.
“So? I called dibs first. And I’m the eldest.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Fuck yeah, it is! Maybe next time don’t steal and you’ll get to have things your way.”
“Yeah, but—”
Dolores groaned a little. “For God’s sake, you can do it together. Just stop arguing.”
Camilo and Isabela relented, seemingly coming to an agreement that they could work on Dolores together and immediately began discussing ideas. That had Dolores backpedaling and trying to argue that they use one of them instead.
Luisa only chuckled, pulling Mirabel closer. “I guess it’s you and me, hermanita.”
“Oh,” Mirabel said. “You wouldn’t want me to do that. I don’t know much anything present beauty trends. I barely know what half of this stuff is.”
“I’m sure you can come up with something.”
Now… if you were to walk by at any point over the next hour, you would be understandably confused with what was going on.
Dolores was constantly complaining and crying out, claiming she had been poked in the eye or her hair was being pulled too tightly. There were several points where the others genuinely stopped to ask if she was alright. She was. Just being dramatic as Camilo and Isabela assaulted her with products. Somewhere along the way, they had both given up on trying to work together to do a good job and were now just trying to make Dolores look as silly as humanly possible. Not that she would know; she was kept well away from a mirror.
Meanwhile, Luisa had happily sunk into the part of an exaggerated and comedic Marie Antoinette that she was unofficially given to play. Mirabel, having woken up a little more, had decided to make Luisa look like the ideal fashions worn by French aristocrats at Versailles, during Louis XVI’s reign. Isabela (after giving up with her cousins) even provided some dye from her plants that could whiten Luisa’s hair, which had been teased high and decorated with ribbons and beads. In contrast to Dolores, Luisa was clearly enjoying herself and greatly liked teasing the others - even if Mirabel kept pointing out the inaccuracies of her acting.
“You look ridiculous,” Dolores commented.
Luisa gasped in horror. “Guards, behead that filthy peasant immediately!” She cried out in her best attempt at a French accent, pointing a finger accusingly. “It will probably be an improvement.”
“No, seriously, prima, you look like someone from the 1880s.” Camilo said.
“1780s,” Mirabel corrected.
“Does it matter? Ain’t it the same thing? Boring, old shit that’s all history is.”
Mirabel didn’t say anything for a moment. The other three wished in silence. “You did not say that to me,” she muttered. “In fact, stop talking to me. You and your incompetence is giving me a headache.”
“Just say ‘fuck off’, sis.” Isabela begged.
“Why don’t we play a board game?” Dolores suggested. “I’ll go get one—”
“No, I want to play Charades. And as the queen of France, I should get to pick.” Luisa beamed, smug as anything.
“Right, fine.” Dolores huffed. She pulled herself to her feet. “You all play a few rounds of Charades. I’ll go clean my face and then come back with a couple of boardgames.”
Mirabel quickly followed, “I’m coming with. To get medicine; I can’t deal with a headache all evening.”
Neither of the pair knew what to say when they returned a good half hour later to find Camilo had been banished to a corner of the room and held there in Isabela’s vines, meanwhile Isabela and Luisa (who was now without her makeover) were covered in plant dye and play-fighting. It seems like Isabela had gotten ahold of some scissors as some point because Luisa was missing more than half her hair. Multicoloured clumps of hair scattered about the room.
“What the actual fuck?” Dolores muttered.
“She started it!”
“She said I could cut it!”
“I thought you were all going to play Charades?” Mirabel inquired. She was quick to push by Dolores and play mediator, trying to convince her sisters to separate. “In hindsight, why did we both leave?”
“Because these three are impossible,” Dolores replied, rolling her eyes. “What exactly did you do?”
Camilo huffed in offence, “I didn’t do anything! I swear! Isabela just moved me here for no reason! Please, hermana! Help me?”
“We were both teasing Bela about how she doesn’t get as many ladies as I do.” Luisa explained. “Then I gave her permission to cut my hair because why not? It’s hair, it’ll grow back. And, well, I think we just got carried away… whoops.”
“Whoops?” Mirabel echoed, unimpressed. Then sighed heavily. “Oh, I’m too young and too tired to deal with this,” she mumbled, settling back into the pile of pillows. “I’ll just have Mama chastise you for it tomorrow morning.”
Isabel shrugged, “Guess us three will be sleeping in then.”
“I refuse to believe that the two of us are somehow related to you three.” Dolores continued. With several more glares at Isabela, her cousin finally relented and released Camilo. The pair joining Mirabel on the floor. Luisa and Isabela slowly made their way over, with Isabela going to finish the haircut. Because apparently if Luisa was going short, she was going all the way.
They went on to play Charades and then a few rounds of card games, though Dolores begrudgingly did so and then tried to claim that she wasn’t enjoying it. Mirabel fell asleep within three minutes of sitting down, so Luisa had taken her back to her own room - to prevent Camilo and Isabela from using her as the victim of some prank. Speaking of, Isabela, Luisa and Camilo only seemed to get more hyper, but that was balanced out by Dolores also getting a little more giddy herself. They then moved on to playing a quick round of Truth or Dare. That was ended by Luisa, who felt that Isabela’s dares were “death sentences” and Dolores’ truths were “too cruel and personal”. Camilo had just enjoyed the drama of the girls, snacking on cocadas.
That had transitioned into a game of Who’s Most Likely To? With very predictable results, but the four of them were enjoying themselves.
“Most likely to get a tattoo?” Camilo asked.
Everyone’s eyes turned to Isabela, who grinned. “That’s fair. Who’s most likely to get caught robbing a bank?”
“Without our gifts? Any of you three.” Dolores answered. “I’m much too clever. Who’s most likely to get hungover and continue a day of work following, without raising suspicion?”
“What a scandalous question for you, Lola!” Isabela teased, hitting her arm playfully. “What would Mariano think of you?”
“I’m the most likely to continue working,” Luisa chuckled, unashamedly. “Can’t say I wouldn’t be caught though. Isabela’s the one with the highest alcohol tolerance, but we’ve yet to see Camilo fully drink, so who knows?”
Isabela shook her head. “No, no. I think it would be you, sis.”
“I’m with Bela,” Camilo piped up. “You’d show up, tough it out and then collapse the second you got back to Casita.” He stood up, dropping down into Mirabel’s form and leaning over to Luisa, “And then I’ll say ‘I told you so’.” Then, shifting into his sister, “‘Because we are always right.’”
The four of them - yes, including Dolores - burst into laughter, so much so that Isabela worried that they might wake the adults, instantly flicking a flower into each of their mouths to shut them up.
When only Mirabel and Antonio showed up for breakfast the following morning, Julieta and Pepa had gone to hunt down their missing children. They found them all huddled, fast asleep, in Luisa’s room in a mass pile of blankets and pillows and a fairly large mess. The two smiled together as they watched from the doorway.
“They are just like we were,” Pepa said.
“Yes, they are exactly like…” Julieta trailed off, pausing. Her eyes widened. “Is that Luisa’s hair?”
Pepa cackled, pulling her sister away and shutting the door. It would be better to let the kids sleep in. “Don’t act so surprised, Juli. You remember the time we shaved Bruno’s head bald?”
#encanto#my writing#isabela madrigal#mirabel madrigal#luisa madrigal#dolores madrigal#camilo madrigal#julieta madrigal#pepa madrigal#ask me anything#bruno madrigal#bubo marquez#mariano guzmán#dolores x mariano
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Isabela, complaining: There's so many beautiful girls and I have nobody in my family to discuss them with...
Bubo: Uh... What about Luisa? She has a girlfriend, right?
Isabela, throwing her hands dramatically: Exactly! Who did allow her to get relationship before me?
#encanto#incorrect quotes#isabela madrigal#luisa madrigal#luisa x raula#bubo and Isabela are besties. i'm not taking criticism#bubo marquez
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