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miracles-and-butterflies · 5 months

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The second wip of the Reincarnation AU series; Isabela’s death.

Featuring another sketch at the end.

Time skip of fourteen years. What happened between Mirabel and Isabela’s deaths? You’ll never know.

Comments are always appreciated.

Warning, sensitive topics below: murder and character death.

~~~~~~

So Much Hides Behind My Smile

“Knock, knock? Mi flor? Are you in there?” Someone asks, opening the door.

Isabela is sat at her vanity, carefully taking out the flowers she’d woven into her hair that morning. From the mirror’s reflection, she can see Milagro stood in the doorway, her family going about minding their own business just behind.

It had been a busy day, of course. Her perfect, albeit long awaited, wedding.

“Of course, mi vida. Did you need something?”

“I just came to see you,” he answered, shutting the door behind him. He laughed, walking over to her, just about to set a hand on her shoulder. “Well, it’s been a long day but we’ve finally made it to the wedding night—”

“Get the fuck out of my room.” Isabela snarls.

Milagro blanks for a minute. “Um… where else am I meant to sleep?”

“I don’t care. It’s not my problem.” She seethes, turning back to the mirror.

“In case the rest of the day didn’t clue you in, mi flor, we are unfortunately husband and wife now. It very much is your problem. And from what I understand, the sooner you have a baby, the happier your Abuela will be. Which you’ll have a hard time achieving if you don’t want me here.”

“If you so much as touch my shoulder, I will rip your penis off and feed it to my carnivorous plants.”

Neither says anything more.

But it takes exactly two seconds for them to act.

Milagro goes to charge his entire body into hers but is yanked onto the floor by throned vines, as Isabela throws herself straight onto him.

“How dare you treat me like this!?”

“How dare you!? This is my room and don’t you forget it!”

“Just because you’re a Madrigal doesn’t mean you can get away with everything, princesa!”

They scratch and hiss and hit like wild jaguars, fighting over the last scrap of meat.

It just keeps going.

Not only does he deserve it and worse, she can let out all the steam that’s been building inside her.

~~~~~~

“A perfect match,” Alma hummed, as Bruno poured them all another round of wine. “Isabela deserves the best and that is what she has. They will both bring so much good to the Encanto.”

“I can’t believe it. Where has the time gone?” Bruno added.

Pepa nodded, still drying her hair. “It feels like just yesterday Isabela was born and now she’s married and going to have babies of her own.”

“That will be our Lolita soon,” Félix smiled.

“I’m too young to have grandchildren! We’re too young to have grandchildren! No offence, Mama.”

Alma was in too good a mood to even remotely care.

“Is it really Dolores’ wedding next?” Bruno asked, teasing. “Because I had a little peek into the future and I saw—”

“NO! DON’T YOU DARE RUIN IT! I DON’T WANT TO KNOW!” Pepa shrieked.

Bruno held his hands up in surrender as his sister began a play fight with him, Félix laughed riotously.

“Hey, I was only kidding!”

“Well, I don’t believe you!”

Alma chuckled too, before getting up. “I am going to check on Julieta and Agustín.”

“You do that,” Félix said. “I’ll keep an eye on these two.”

The rest of the grandkids, all of whom were drunk, were out in the courtyard, hyper as anything.

Camilo, Antonio and a variety of animals were dancing while Dolores played some lively tune on her bandola; Luisa singing a completely different song over the top.

Honestly, you wouldn’t know they were adults.

On any other day, she would probably have scolded them and sent them to bed. For now though, she is happy enough to just leave them. They aren’t hurting anyone or causing any trouble, to be fair.

Agustín and Julieta were sat quietly in another room, without the wine. Julieta has been in an odd state for the past few years with seemingly new cure, and Agustín has always preferred to keep some distance from his mother-in-law when he can help it.

But they should be together right now. This is Isabela’s day and they have all been her biggest supporters.

“They certainly make the happy couple,” Alma said, taking a seat beside them.

“Indeed.” Agustín agrees. “I had my doubts about this match, but I’m glad that I’ve been proved wrong.”

“So long as my girls are happy, then I’m happy.” Julieta declares.

“Well, mija, I can attest that Luisa is definitely happy.” She paused, trying to get the pair to hear the carryon happening outside. “And trying to make herself a soprano, apparently.”

After some wonky, forced long note from Luisa, they broke into laughter.

“It’s nice to see the kids are still enjoying life and spending time together,” Agustín remarked, smiling fondly.

Julieta’s smile drops.

“Not all of them.”

~~~~~~

Long after Milagro is gone and her temper has cooled, Isabela heads downstairs.

It’s late now.

The rest of the family is in bed. Or at least in their rooms.

She doesn’t know where Milagro went after she kicked him out, probably the guest bedroom, but she doesn’t care enough to check. He can sleep outside for all she cares.

She heard some footsteps on the way to the kitchen, but brushed them off.

One of Antonio’s animals, no doubt.

In the kitchen, she makes her way over to the coffee pot. It’s half full, just needs to be reheated - no doubt Luisa has beaten her to their usual midnight drinks.

Casita takes over, sliding her signature cup along to her.

“What do you think of all this, Casita?”

A few tiles clink.

“Mirabel? I’d be lectured for at least two hours about failed marriages in history or something if she was still alive.” Isabela glanced to the side. “Can’t imagine how she’d take this… knowing I just went back.”

More clinking.

“Well, what was I meant to do? I couldn’t say no.”

A cupboard smacks her shoulder, lightly.

She chuckled. Taking off the wedding ring.

“Haha, good point. You know, I always thought getting out of the Guzmán engagement would make me happy, and now I’m about two seconds away from committing murder.”

The beams squeak supportively.

“It’s nice to know someone’s got my back.”

The coffee pot, ready, is tilted over Isabela’s cup, filling it to the brim.

“Maybe I’ll let it happen. Let the family see he’s awful and then I’ll be free.”

It smells as good as usual, there’s an underlying hint of something that isn’t coffee though. She shrugs, and drinks it anyways.

Luisa’s been drunk since the ceremony ended, who knows what she’s put in here since. It’s probably alcohol - that she’s added in some spark of creativity. And Isabela isn’t too against the idea of alcohol in her coffee at all - it’s an idea she’ll try later, when she isn’t about to go to bed.

It doesn’t taste any different though.

She lets Casita dispose of the ring.

She returns to her room steadily, not paying much attention to the beautiful decorations that have been hanging since this morning.

It’s one of the odd times where she wasn’t the one to decorate Casita in her flora - it was her day. Abuela had made it very clear that she didn’t want Isabela to lift a finger.

She never really got a chance to admire them this morning either. She’s spent most of the day outside of Casita and when they have been home, she was in her room, getting ready with Dolores, her maid of honour.

Ah well.

They will still be there tomorrow.

All that matters now is that she’s alone, out of that hideous wedding dress and can sleep off her frustration with a drink.

She doesn’t bother switching on the light, just clambers into bed and setting the cup on her bedside table.

The café con leche is as inviting as always.

[Note reads, not in Isabela’s handwriting:

Dear family,

This is not about you, this is about me. I can’t cope with the pressure of being the perfect Madrigal any longer. I was not made to be a wife and mother - my most sincere apologies to Milagro, mi vida. I tried. You should not blame yourselves. I hope whatever is is next is better than this.

— Isabela]

#encanto #encanto reincarnation au #isabela madrigal #alma madrigal #julieta madrigal #agustín madrigal #pepa madrigal #félix madrigal #bruno madrigal #luisa madrigal #dolores madrigal #camilo madrigal #antonio madrigal #mirabel madrigal #my writing #my art #encanto fanart

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usedtobeguest123 · 7 months

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“Hey there,” Bruno said quietly. The boy didn’t respond, but his eyes raised a fraction of an inch higher over the horizon of wood. “I-I’ve been meaning to tell you—um, thank you, for letting me use your room, and your little jaguar. It did help.” That drew him up high enough for Bruno to catch the smile that lit up his face. “I knew it would,” he said, so quiet Bruno almost couldn’t hear him over the noise around them. “Yeah, heh, you’re pretty smart,” he replied with a grin. “Hey, I’m Bruno, by the way.” Bruno brushed his hand against his ruana to knock off the excess sand before holding it out over the trough between them. “I-I know you know that, but we didn’t really have time for, um, proper introductions, heh, you know, before.” The kid stood enough for his shoulders to clear the top of the trough and put his small hand into Bruno’s. He was still smiling a small, shy smile. “I’m Antonio.” “It’s really, really nice to meet you, Antonio,” Bruno said sincerely, giving his hand a little shake before letting go. “It’s nice to meet you too, Tío.”

Encantober Day 3 - Reunion. This is from a little blurby thing I wrote for @encantober-official last year. I think their off-screen reunion would have been really cute. You can read the whole thing below the cut :)

Bruno poured his bucket of sand into a large feeding trough, letting the familiar hiss of falling grains soothe his battered nerves. Around him, the air was full of warm voices calling to each other, reassuring and loving in their tones. Every so often, the half-built walls echoed with laughter that was genuine, if a bit sad, a bit strained. The rebuilding of Casita was well on its way.

Bruno wiped his brow and straightened, setting down his bucket, but quickly pulled his arms to his chest in surprise as he spotted a pair of big brown eyes peeking at him from the other side of the trough. A cloud of springy curls gathered above them in a haze of soft brown.

At Bruno’s sharp reaction, the small face ducked slightly lower, though not enough to break eye contact. Bruno blew out a breath and smiled with recognition. He knelt so that his head was just higher than the trough, peering carefully back toward the half-hidden face of his sister's youngest son.

It suddenly occurred to Bruno how different this interaction was than the last time he’d spoken one-on-one with this kid, in the walls and in his room. All the confidence of the child who’d winked at him, passing along a stuffed jaguar “for the nerves” while riding the back of a very real, very large jaguar, seemed to be gone. He supposed they’d all been through a lot since then, though.

That drew him up high enough for Bruno to catch the smile that lit up his face.

“I knew it would,” he said, so quiet Bruno almost couldn’t hear him over the noise around them.

“Yeah, heh, you’re pretty smart,” he replied with a grin. “Hey, I’m Bruno, by the way.” Bruno brushed his hand against his ruana to knock off the excess sand before holding it out over the trough between them. “I-I know you know that, but we didn’t really have time for, um, proper introductions, heh, you know, before.”

The kid stood enough for his shoulders to clear the top of the trough and put his small hand into Bruno’s. He was still smiling a small, shy smile. “I’m Antonio.”

“It’s really, really nice to meet you, Antonio,” Bruno said sincerely, giving his hand a little shake before letting go.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Tío,” Antonio replied. Bruno’s smile faltered just a little into something a bit more sad, but he quickly recovered it.

“Hey! I-I-I need to go get some stuff from town—for the spackle. Want to come? I, uh, could use the extra hands, you know, to carry things. Jorge is good at mixing but, heh, he’s a lightweight. Can’t carry a thing if it’s heavier than a trowel.”

Antonio nodded and moved around to join him. Bruno raised his eyebrows in surprise when his sobrino reached up and quietly took his strange tío’s hand. After a second’s hesitation, Bruno squeezed the little hand back and they started walking down the hill, carefully stepping over the large crack that spread through the street down to the village. Antonio glanced around curiously as they walked.

“Who is Jorge?”

#encantober #reunion #bruno madrigal #antonio madrigal #I'm out of new ideas and I want to work on my art #so I will mostly be redrawing stuff from old writing #This was from encantober 2022 'healing'#my art #my writing

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thegirlking · 7 months

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Mother and son shaped by trauma: a deeper look into Alma and Bruno's damaged relationship

Alma and Bruno's mother-son relationship seems like such a minor aspect of the movie, but when you give it some thought, despite the limited focus, it's not only a very complex relationship, but also a narratively significant one.

Obviously we don't have a lot of information on it, but let me reflect a bit on the things we do know, while trying to fill in some blanks. Long post ahead.

Back to the start - how did it go so wrong?

There's one particularly interesting detail that Jared Bush shared on a podcast some time ago. It mostly comes down to the reason Bruno's visions were usually so negative: because that's how he was taught to use his gift by his mother, who would ask him to look into the future for any possible dangers to their home.

Now, this makes perfect sense for Alma's character and gives a great insight into how her trauma affected her. It's a completely natural consequence of the tragedy she experienced - of course she would be gripped by fear and desperate to protect her home from another tragedy at all cost. And the power of foresight is seemingly the ultimate key to preventing tragedy, so of course she would rely on her child's gift for that...

...and yes, that's a great burden to put on your child's shoulders and something that clearly had troubling consequences. The particularly frustrating thing being that those consequences could have been largely prevented only if Bruno had proper understanding and emotional support.

The thing is...the understanding and support probably were there for some time. Some bonus materials suggest that Bruno was not always the black sheep of the family, but quite the opposite. He was apparently once the golden child of the family - until people began to believe his gift was actually responsible for bad future events.

Which brings me to the important question: why did it go so wrong? If Alma herself believed Bruno's gift could help prevent disaster, how and why did this belief that it's actually causing disaster came to be? Didn't she try to protect her son from his gift being horribly misunderstood?

Well, I'd like to give Alma the benefit of the doubt that she did try to protect him, at least when he was a child. But I do wonder if she simply grew exhausted by Bruno at some point, as he grew older? Exhausted by his unclear visions, which were hard to control and not that helpful after all (I think Dolores' verse in WDTAB kinda suggests it). Exhausted by Bruno's eccentric personality that was so far away from the "perfect image" she wanted for the family. And maybe that frustration led to her ultimately neglecting him emotionally and enabling the negative attitude to his gift, even if it wasn't intentional on her part.

Broken trust

Again, this is all just my interpretation and I don't want to assume the worst without any proof... however, I do think it's reasonable to believe that Alma did fail Bruno in some way.

And she might have not realized it, but I think Bruno himself very much felt she failed him. That would also explain his evident lack of trust in her. I talked in one of my previous posts how Bruno not trusting Alma with the vision about Mirabel is a big red flag that something was very wrong in the family. Ideally, he should have been able to trust his mother with the vision, but we were as far from the ideal scenario as we could be - Bruno choosing to hide the vision is a clear sign how damaged his relationship with his mother was at this point and how broken his trust in her was.

Ironically, if Bruno's decision was a result of broken trust in his mother...the same decision also broke her trust in him.

Let's look at it from her (sympathetic but misguided) perspective for a moment. Bruno's gift was something she had relied on in order to protect her family. And so many years later, no matter what the present attitude to his gift was, she still went to him in a difficult moment. So the fact that he essentially denied her that help would definitely feel like a huge betrayal - for Alma it probably looked like Bruno had betrayed the family and betrayed the miracle.

Those would be the understandable feelings of a traumatized woman who probably couldn't stand losing someone she loves yet again - believing Bruno betrayed and abandoned them because he doesn't care was likely a kind of coping mechanism to numb the grief.

Regardless of how understandable those feelings might be though, this coping mechanism was deeply unhealthy and harmful. What's more, the choice to paint Bruno as the bad guy shows horrible lack of self-awareness. And that lack of self-awareness only intensified the unhealthy environment in the family.

Because in the end, Bruno leaving the family should have been the wake-up call that the "perfect" family might have some issues to work through and something needs to change to avoid driving away anyone else. Alma might have not known Bruno's motives to leave, might have been understandably angry and hurt about him hiding the vision, but she definitely should have reflected on her own mistakes as a mother that led to Bruno making this decision.

Protecting the family and understanding the true miracle

But beyond how trauma shaped their relationship, I think there's something else at the core of the issue: their love for their family and their different understanding of what it means to protect it.

I talked about how Alma went to Bruno in a difficult moment, when she feared for the future of the miracle - and that the fact he never gave her the vision and simply ran away must have felt like a betrayal to the miracle.

In some way Bruno did betray the miracle - he betrayed the miracle in the way Alma understood the miracle at that point, as a source of magic more than anything else. And ironically, by doing so, Bruno showed that he actually understood what the miracle was truly about.

Alma was so fixated on protecting the miracle that she ended up losing sight of what was truly important and hurt the family. On the other hand, Bruno saw a threat to the miracle and yet still chose protecting his young niece's well being over anything else - one "giftless" little girl mattered more than the magic.

My point here isn't "Alma bad, Bruno good", that's a huge simplification. Both of those characters were very damaged and were going to unhealthy extremes to protect what was important to them. I'm not saying Bruno's decision to hide the vision was the "right" one or something to be glorified - I mostly think that it's a decision that should have never been made and again, the fact he felt he had to do that shows the deep rooted issues within the family.

But ultimately, he did have the right priority there - of course Mirabel's well being matters more than the magic. Every member of the family matters more than the magic. That's the whole point of the movie and the core of Alma's character arc - realizing that the family itself is the greatest gift.

And one detail I particularly like is that Alma and Bruno are the two people to tell Mirabel she's the real miracle in the end - it shows their values are finally on the same page and there's finally hope for mutual understanding between them.

#Encanto #encanto meta #bruno madrigal #alma madrigal #my meta #long post #bear with me writing long encanto meta again #a lot of this has probably been discussed before

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foreveranevilregal · 7 months

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Encantober Day 3: Reunion

“You can let go now.” Bruno squirmed uncomfortably in Pepa’s grasp.

“Ay, but I missed you so much, hermanito.” Pepa squeezed him more tightly. “Can’t I have this moment of joy?”

“Can’t- breathe-“ Bruno gasped out, fighting against Pepa.

“Easy, Pepa.” Julieta placed her hand on Pepa’s shoulder. “His eyes are starting to pop out of his head.”

Reluctantly, Pepa loosened her grip.

Relieved, Bruno took a deep breath, just as Julieta pounced on him.

“What do all of you have against breathing?” He griped, sinking limply into the hug.

“Brunito, we haven’t seen you in ten years.” Alma said, her eyes misty with tears. “Surely you understand.”

“I do, but you won’t get to see me much longer if you don’t let me breathe!” He finally managed to wriggle out of the hug.

Pepa and Julieta looked at him, hurt.

Bruno sighed. “Alright, come here.” He held his arms open. “Ah, one arm hugs. One arm hugs!” He put up his hands preemptively.

This time, his sisters were gentler with him.

Bruno closed his eyes contentedly, enjoying the hug. “It’s good to see you, guys. I missed you.”

“We missed you too.” Suddenly, Pepa pulled away from the hug. “Don’t you ever disappear on us like that again!” She smacked him in the arm.

Wincing, Bruno shook out his arm. “Easy, Pepa. Keep me in one piece.” He covered his mouth with his hand and turned towards Julieta. “I forgot how strong she was.”

Hearing that, Pepa scooped him up in his arms and twirled him around. “Strong enough to pick you up, and don’t you forget it!” Realizing something, she frowned, setting him down on the ground. “Bruno, you’re so light. Have you been eating?”

He shrugged. “I got enough food. Sometimes it was hard to sneak some from the kitchen because someone would always be in there, but I’d get the rats to grab me a few arepas to tide me over.”

“Rats-“ Julieta looked horrified then sighed, smiling contentedly. “It’s over now. You can eat as much as you’d like, and no more rats in my kitchen!”

“What about other animals?” Antonio piped up, eyes shining eagerly.

“Toñito, I think Parce might be bigger than the kitchen,” Félix pointed out with a chuckle.

Everyone laughed.

“Food actually sounds pretty good,” Bruno admitted. “I haven’t eaten since,” he put up a few fingers, counting, “no matter, I’m hungry!”

Camilo’s stomach grumbled in agreement. “Let’s eat!”

“Great idea, Milo.” Julieta nodded approvingly. “I can go get started on dinner.”

“We’ll join you,” Pepa said, joining her side.

Bruno looked between the two warily. “Uh, Pepa’s allowed in the kitchen now?”

Félix shook his head “no” at Bruno but stilled his motion at a glare from Pepa.

Bruno nodded. “So, uh, dinner!” He said brightly. “Let’s go!” He stopped walking when he noticed Camilo examining him through narrowed eyes. “Something wrong, Camilo?”

Camilo gave him a disappointed once over. “You’re so…short,” Camilo pronounced.

Bruno blinked, confused. “Thank you?”

“Camilo!” Pepa whirled on her son. “That’s so rude.”

“You called him short all the time,” Agustín pointed out, becoming the latest victim of her glare.

“That’s different. That’s sibling privilege,” Pepa countered. “Camilo, you can’t say things like that to your tío.”

“Why not? He’s so short.” Camilo blew his bangs out of his eyes. “I thought he’d be like seven feet tall!”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, kid. I’m not some kind of boogeyman. Just your regular, everyday tío with a pack of rats at his service.” He bowed with a flourish.

Dolores slid in alongside him. “About the rats…tío, now that you’re finally here…” She trailed off. “Not that you were ever really gone, I could hear you in the walls, you know,” she mentioned proudly as an aside.

Bruno chuckled. “I’m guessing you were the one responsible for the conveniently ‘forgotten’ food left in the kitchen?”

Dolores’ face assumed a guilty expression. “Guilty?” She glanced out of the corner of her eye towards Julieta, who wasn’t paying attention.

Bruno waved off her concern. “Hey, no sweat. You might’ve just saved my life with that, so thank you. So what’s up?”

“Well, since I could hear you in there…” Dolores brushed a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. “I heard some of your performances.” Her voice sounded more confident now. “And I am just dying to know what happens with José and María!”

“Oh.” Bruno appeared taken aback.

“Do they end up together? Or does Carmen break them up? What happens next? I need to know!” Dolores squealed, gripping his arm tightly.

“You really are your mother’s daughter, aren’t you?” Bruno shook his head good-naturedly. “Okay, so I don’t have all of it planned out yet, but here’s what I was thinking…”

They walked together as he narrated to her, his words punctuated by excited gasps and squeals.

Eventually, the family meandered inside. The kitchen became a whirlwind of activity, underscored by overlapping conversations. Finally, dinner was ready, and everyone took their places at the table, with Bruno at the head.

Next to him, Alma stood up, raising her glass. “To our family. May we never be separated again.”

Glasses clinked together at the first of many reunited Madrigal family dinners.

#bruno madrigal #pepa madrigal #julieta madrigal #encantober #camilo madrigal #dolores madrigal #felix madrigal #agustin madrigal #antonio madrigal #alma madrigal #encantober 2023 #encanto #reunion #foreveranevilregal writes #writing encanto #the important thing is i tried #i had a super long day at work today #please be nice

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lapseinart · 7 months

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pre-canon Encanto headcanons to consider:

before the triplets got their powers, there were a lot of rumors about the weird lady living by herself in a cursed house

and there’s a couple people that are suspicious of the fact that this lady’s husband died right before she got a magic house

did she sacrifice him or her husband sacrifice his soul for magic?

like we’re grateful she saved us all but clearly this lady’s a witch

meanwhile Alma’s only reason for getting up in the morning are her kids. I deeply admire this of her

Nobody’s there the night the kids get their powers

Alma’s pretty freaked out herself bc not only is she raising three kids by herself while in her twenties, she’s raising three MAGIC kids by herself

at this point half the town’s pretty sure that Alma had the devil’s children

Alma’s freaking out a lot, but like hell are they going to get to her kids

That’s why she starts offering the town her children’s help

Show them we’re harmless, the very helpful Madrigal family

They do eventually go talk to the priest of Encanto. That’s how Bruno sort of figured out the match and sand thing

Lots of trial and error because before then the visions were random and uncontrollable

Still gets random visions but he cAN DO IT ON COMMAND NOW GUYS!

No one from the town is there the night that Isabela gets her gift, but rumors start up again (the triplets are a bit more understanding of their mother’s position after this) so the whole town is invited to Dolores’ ceremony

Which is actually not great she starts crying because she can hear everything

#encanto #alma madrigal #madrigal triplets #Bruno Madrigal #dolores madrigal #isabela madrigal #pepa madrigal #julieta madrigal #I’ve actually been sitting on these for a while #found it in my drafts #ficlet #kind of #lapse in writing

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breannasfluff · 2 years

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Encantober 21: Change

Art from @junosaccount! Thanks for collaborating!

“Hold still!” Pepa slaps Julieta’s shoulder, fortunately not with the hand holding a needle.

Out of the triplets, Julieta isn’t the one to be squeamish about blood and pain, yet here she is. 20 years old and piercing her ears in solidarity with her sister and brother.

Happy birthday to me. Then again, after enough liquor, everything sounds like a good idea.

“You gotta…hold still, Juli, you keep squirming away.” Pepa gestures at Bruno, who’s tentatively patting his earring. He leaves off and comes over to grab Julieta’s shoulders.

“Is that still clean?” she tries.

Pepa looks at her, then the needle. “I already disinfected your skin and stuck the needle in the candle flame.”

“Maybe you can disinfect the needle, too?”

“You’re stalling.” Still, Pepa follows her suggestion. “This is silly, your magic would heal any problems.”

She winces, despite the truth. “But it’s going to hurt!”

Pepa waves it away. “A few seconds of pain for a lifetime of earrings!” She puts the stopper in place behind Julieta’s ear. “Now hold still—”

Julieta faints, slumping in Bruno’s grasp.

When she comes to, her ears sting. “Ow—” food is shoved in her mouth and she automatically chews. The pain vanishes. “What happened?”

Pepa and Bruno sit on the floor next to her. Bruno looks suspiciously like he’s holding back laughter.

“You,” Pepa starts, “our gifted healer, who deals with injuries and blood every day, fainted before I even pierced your ears.”

Grimacing, Julieta raises a hand to her ears, feeling small hoops that weren’t there before. “You did it while I was out?” She turns a betrayed look on the two.

Bruno shrugs. “You held still like that and didn’t have to deal with the pain. See? It’s all over now.”

It’s true, her magic took away the pain before it could really sink in. She looks at her two siblings; Pepa’s got matching hoops and Bruno has a single one. “What’s Mamá going to say?”

Pepa passes her a bottle of liquor. “Who cares what she says! It’s our birthday! Let loose a little.”

Julieta never lets loose. As Bruno falls out of favor with Mamá, Julieta is being slid into his place and expected to be the responsible one. She touches her earrings one more time. “You're right! We’re young. Now give me that bottle.”

All three of them adjust their hairstyle the next day to show off the new additions. Pepa pulls her hair back in a braid and Julieta piles hers into a bun. Bruno’s hair is long enough to pull back into a ponytail, curls brushing the back of his neck. His earring flashes in the light, matching his sly grin.

“Just wait till Mamá sees,” he hisses at Pepa.

She elbows him and sticks her nose in the air. “Just go to breakfast, Brunito.”

Julieta follows them, sliding quietly into her chair at the table.

Mamá glances up, then back at her plate, then up again. “Hmm,” she says.

Bruno and Julieta share a look.

“Pepa, you have earrings.”

She nods, glaring at the small cloud that pops in over her head.

Mamá’s gaze slides down the table. “Julieta, you have earrings as well.”

“Yes, Mamá.” She rubs her spoon, uncomfortable with the attention.

“Care to explain?”

Pepa kicks her under the table, which Julieta takes as say something. “We decided to pierce our ears for our birthday. I made sure everything was clean, though, and my food of course healed them right away.

“Julieta fainted!” Bruno could never keep his mouth shut when he should. He grunts, likely because Pepa stomped on his foot.

Mamá’s frown is growing deeper adding wrinkles across her face. She turns her attention to Bruno. “And you didn’t stop—wait.” Squinting, she leans forward. “Are you wearing an earring…too?”

“Well…we were drinking and…” Bruno’s glee is rapidly draining.

“All three of you pierced your ears, on your own, under the influence of liquor?” Mamá stands, hands planted firmly on the table.

Bruno sinks into his seat and Julieta starts planning escape routes. “Ah—” he throws one more frantic look at his siblings. “Pepa made me do it?”

“Bruno!”

Pepa’s thunder accentuates the yell. Bruno bolts with Pepa in pursuit. Mamá watches them go and sighs, shaking her head. “Julieta, I expected better of you.”

“Yes, Mamá,” she whispers, ducking her head. She hates disappointing her. Still, the slight weight and sway of her new earrings lights a warm glow in her chest. It’s a small change, but still—it’s rebellion enough for her.

#encantober #change #junosaccount #breannasfluff #my writing #bruno madrigal #julieta madrigal #pepa madrigal #alma madrigal #encanto #disney encanto #encanto fanfic #encanto fan art

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lilacthebooklover · 3 months

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what do ao3 users have against people named carlos? i need to know

#ao3 #ao3 tags #they're so silly #ao3 writer #fanfiction writer #whump writing #whumpblr #how many whumpble carloses are there??#wtnv carlos #cecil palmer #bruno madrigal #carlos de vil #kevin wtnv #what a lovely line-up of characters

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madrigaljail · 11 months

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Cheesus

For @wdtajn: memes/comedy. The rats tell Antonio everything. Pepa doesn't appreciate it.

The sudden drop in temperature and a page-rustling breeze were all the warning Bruno got before his sister interrupted his script-writing session (which had so far consisted of him sharpening all of his pencils and then trying to line them up in order of pointiness). He glanced up, grateful for the distraction from his distraction, and hoped her scowl wasn’t intended for him.

“Bruno, stop being a bad influence on my son."

Well. So much for that. He held up his hands, placating, “Pepa, I don’t know what you heard but whatever it is, Camilo started it.”

“Not that one!’ she said and folded her arms. “I got a note from Antonio’s teacher-”

“Tonito’s never done anything wrong in his entire life!” Bruno declared. It was a reflex.

That gave Pepa pause, which gave Bruno hope that she’d drop it, but instead she formed a cloud and resumed scowling. “The note was to tell me that she had heard my baby, who has never done anything wrong in his entire life, refer to Our Lord And Savior as Quesocristo.”

Bruno was a very good actor. This afternoon he would be playing the part of a marble statue.

“On more than one occasion.” When her brother remained motionless, she pressed on. “He told her he’d heard it from the rats.”

Oh. Shit. “I…don’t see how this has anything to do with me?” Yeah, yeah, it was way too late to beat the weird rat guy allegations but he had to at least put up a fight. “I mean, I’ve been saying for years that they’re really smart, a-and I guess now we know they’ve got a sense of humor? Eh?”

Bruno gave her a toothy grin, hoping it would be enough, but the cloud flickered and thundered.

“He told me the rats heard it from you,” Pepa seethed. “Now, why would you teach them that?”

“That’s a great question, Pepi,” he said, getting to his feet and edging away from the cloud’s reach. “I mean, considering the consequences o-o-of having such an inadvertent influence on a pure, perfect, incorruptible soul, why would I even think to slander Our Lord And Savior by-”

Pepa stepped closer. The cloud expanded. Bruno flinched.

“Because you thought it was funny,” she hissed and jabbed a finger into his chest. It sparked a little.

Bruno let out a desperate, alarmed giggle. “Ha! Well, I mean, it sort of is, yeah? Just imagine those little guys going around like-” He held up his hands in a little rat-like gesture of supplication and cast his gaze toward heaven, then, in a squeaky voice: “Quesocristo, preserve us!”

As he’d hoped, but not exactly expected because he still and always had to be careful with his words, she laughed, and the cloud retracted a little.

“Ok, fine. But, please, Brunito, you need to be more careful. Remember what happened with Lolo and Isa.”

“Hey, now, that was not me, that was all Agustín.”

They grinned at each other, and the sun came out.

“Lunes-”

“Martes-”

“Mierda-coles!”

From somewhere across the house they heard their mother shout “Mind your language!”

(A week later Pepa once again had to confront her brother over the fact that her baby - who had never done anything wrong - now seemed to think bats were rat angels.)

#wdtajn #my writing #ficlet #bruno madrigal #pepa madrigal #writing memes is hard y'all and idk if this counts #whatever i laughed #seda's blaspheming again

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provokedgoalie · 2 years

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18+. minors dni. 🔞

♡ perv!bruno madrigal x reader

♡ a/n: rewatched encanto with the family last night and thoughts were being thunk 😗👉🏽👈🏽 love me some voyeur bruno. (also, reader kinda knows he's watching them)

“Bruno,” you whimpered, as you rubbed yourself harder against your soiled pillow; your hips gyrated until the bed shook, knocking against the wall in rhythm.

The one where he was watching from.

He caught his wrecked sobs with his hand, while the other wraps around his leaking cock— the veins pulsing as he fists himself with vigor upon seeing you throw your head back.

“Oh, fuck. Please,” you pleaded, mouth agape as the grip on your pillow grew tighter.

Your unfocused eyes locked with the hole in the wall, almost as if you were aware of his voyeuristic ways.

He was throbbing in his slick covered palm, painfully aware that he'll come any minute. He never lasted long with you.

Bruno couldn't be sure what brought it on: maybe it was the thought of you putting on a show for him, or the way that you said his name, but he gritted his teeth as he pumped himself a final time.

With a groan, ropes of white coated his stomach and shaking hand. He brings it to his lips, tongue peeking out to kitten lick his fingers— his mind tricking himself into believing it was you cleaning him up.

When he glances up, you're on your back coming down from your high. Your heated cheeks and heaving chest made his cock twitch, signalling for another round.

He moves to tuck himself back into his pants, when he hears you giggle.

“Hope you enjoyed that, Brunito.”

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foggyfanfic · 5 months

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How Mariano Got Betrothed to the Wrong Madrigal

Oneshot Preview: Thankfully, Isabela was his best friend, and knew him well enough to read the answer on his face, “So why are you going along with this?”

“With…?”

“With this! With our abuelas setting us up?”

Now, nobody had ever accused Mariano of being an intellectual. In fact, he was frequently accused of the exact opposite. Which was fine, kinda hurtful, but he couldn’t be too upset about being called stupid.

Not after this marvelous mess up.

It started on the first day of school, he just happened to be the same age as the two oldest Madrigal kids, and was thus sat at the same table as them. Isabela was fun, but she hogged all of the brightest crayons, except for red.

Red belonged to Dolores.

Dolores was patient, even at the young age of six. It seemed like it didn’t matter how many times he needed help, she always gave it. The three of them played together everyday at recess, Dolores would be the princess, he would be the shining knight, and Isabela took great delight in being the plant breathing dragon.

Then they grew up. Not instantly, of course, little by little.

The first sign of their impending adulthood was when Isabela came to school in a brand new dress and said, “Abuela says I want to be the princess sometimes.”

“Oh, ok,” Mariano agreed, because he knew how important it was to listen to your abuela.

Dolores being the dragon was kind of fun anyways, because she didn’t have plant powers so they had to wrestle for the princess. Unfortunately, Isabela got bored with that game a little while after that and they had to find a new one.

Time marched on, and slowly by slowly, Isabela started wearing more dresses she wasn’t allowed to get dirty. Both Mariano and Dolores missed playing with her, even if she did hog the brightest crayons.

However.

If Mariano could go back in time, he would not have mentioned to his abuela that he missed playing with Isabela.

When they were nine, going on ten, both Isabela and Dolores were promised visions from their Tío for their birthdays. Isabela was all smiles the day after she got her vision. Dolores avoided him for a week after she got hers.

When they were eleven, Mariano realized that his favorite games to play with Dolores all involved wrestling. And really weird, he didn’t mind losing to her when they wrestled. Dolores would huff and pout at him if he tried to wrestle with her when she wore her favorite red skirt, and although he didn’t like to make her upset, he thought she was cute when she pouted.

At thirteen he realized why he liked wrestling with Dolores. His parents raised him to be a gentleman, so he stopped.

At fifteen, he started planning their wedding. It would be wonderful, he would read her a poem for his vows, and she would speak hers so quietly it would sound like a secret just for him. Isabela would make a bouquet of deep red roses for Dolores, and he would pluck one out to put in her hair.

She always looked so beautiful in red.

At sixteen, Romero asked Dolores out, she said yes.

To Mariano’s great relief they only went on two dates. However, he couldn’t ignore what it meant that Dolores had agreed to date Romero in the first place. She didn’t see him the same way he saw her.

Nobody ever accused Mariano of being an intellectual, but he liked to think he was raised right. When a woman demonstrates that she doesn’t have feelings for you, you respect that.

He tried just being her friend, but it seemed as they grew, she just became more and more beautiful. Eventually, he realized if he wanted to get over her, he would need space. Mariano spent a month torturing himself, trying to think of a different way to move on, but then she giggled at a joke her little brother made and it felt like somebody had wrenched his heart out of his chest to give to her.

So, at seventeen, he began hanging out with the other boys his age instead of Dolores. He still spoke to her at parties, and if he happened to run into her at the market, and of course, when their abuelas decided their families should have dinner together.

And he still loved her.

No matter how much time passed, Mariano still loved Dolores more than he could ever say. He tried writing poems about his feelings, but the words paled in comparison, so he gave up and wrote poems about other things.

When he was twenty he noticed Isabela dancing in the square, spreading flowers around. Dolores was just behind her, smiling quietly. Isabela made Dolores a red and orange flower crown and Mariano couldn’t hold back a sigh at how beautiful she was.

“She’s quite graceful, isn’t she?” his abuela asked, seemingly appearing out of thin air by his shoulder.

“Oh, uh, sí. She is,” he glanced nervously between his abuela and Dolores, who stood with her usual poise.

“And quite beautiful.”

“Sí,” Mariano gulped, did she know?

“I remember you two used to play together everyday at school.”

“Sí,” Mariano said, failing to keep all of his longing out of his voice.

“How long have you had these feelings for her?”

He stuttered and babbled for a little, but she just watched him with a knowing grin, so he gave in and admitted, “Since we were children, but she doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Oh? Are you sure?”

“Sí.”

“Have you asked her?”

“Uh.”

“Mariano, mijo, you can not know a woman’s true feelings unless you ask her.”

He blinked at his abuela for a little, then turned to look past Isabela at Dolores. She was very quiet, and usually very good at keeping secrets. Was it wishful thinking driving him to listen to his abuela? Or did he have a chance?

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said.

“Of course I am, now go ask her.”

Mariano nodded, and started to walk away, before he remembered himself. Dutifully, he turned back to press a kiss to his abuela’s cheek, and thank her for her council. When he turned around, Dolores was gone.

He frowned, slowly approaching Isabela as he searched the crowd for a flash of red. She noticed him and waved, he waved back then pushed through the crowd so he could speak to her.

“Where’d Dolores go?”

Isabela paused in her dancing to look over at where Dolores had been standing, finger halfway raised to point. She deflated a little when she noticed her cousin was gone.

“I don’t know,” she frowned a little, then looked quickly at her audience and with a magnanimous smile rained flowers down on them.

“You don’t have to stop on my account,” he said, recognizing the flower confetti as the finale it was.

“No, I wanted to do some shopping with her,” Isabela waved at people as she broke through the crowd, gifting a few of the children with extra flowers, “she’s so good at picking things Abuela likes.”

“Oh, great, then we can look for her together,” he smiled, “been a while since we spent any time together.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” she huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head, “When was the last time? New years?”

“Sí, sí, sounds right,” he eyed Dolores’ favorite fruit stand as they passed it, “how’ve you been?”

“Oh, wonderful,” she was also looking at the stand, then turned to peek into the book shop, “I recently learned how to do a new trick on my vines.”

“Oh?” Mariano asked with genuine interest, he remembered how much Isabela enjoyed her acrobatics, “I would love to see it!”

Isabela flashed him a warm smile, then glanced down at her fluttery lavender dress, “You should come by Casita for lunch tomorrow, I can show it to you then.”

It had been forever since he’d gone to Casita for lunch, and he suddenly realized how much he’d missed the sentient house. He had spent many an afternoon playing hide and seek there, but recently he’d only been when he was accompanying his abuela and had to be on his best behavior. Plus, it meant that even if he couldn’t find Dolores today, he could talk to her tomorrow.

“I would love that!”

“Great. I’ll let everybody know.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon looking for Dolores, and when they didn’t find her, he helped Isabela pick out some cloth for a new dress.

“I definitely want something purple,” Isabela said, looking over the bolts of fabric, “Abuela says it compliments my skin tone the best.”

Mariano, used to helping his Mamá with her shopping, hummed thoughtfully and reached for a deep purple linen. Isabela looked at it, and her eyes got all bright, a smile twitched at her lips.

Then she stood up just a little straighter, folded her hands over themselves and said, “It’s lovely, but I prefer pastels.”

Mariano felt his brow wrinkle, because it had looked like Isabela had been really excited about it for a second, but then again, he could be wrong. It had certainly happened before.

He helped her select a different bolt of purple. A pastel purple. The shopkeeper offered her a steep discount in exchange for fresh flowers to fill all of her vases.

Isabela obliged with the same perfect smile she used to use when she was playing the princess.

They parted ways not long after, Mariano reported to his abuela that he would be having lunch at Casita the next day and she’d cheered. He did not realize until later the misunderstanding that had taken place, and by then, it wouldn’t matter.

Dolores didn’t make an appearance at lunch the next day, but Mirabel did.

He watched Isabela and Mirabel snipe at each other, even as they planned what embroidery Mirabel would put on Isabela’s new dress.

“That’s too many colors,” Isabela said.

Mirabel rolled her eyes, “You know, you used to like colors, back when you weren’t boring.”

“I’m not boring, I’m an adult, with a little something called responsibilities,” Isabela hissed.

Mirabel rolled her eyes even harder.

Mariano chuckled, accidentally drawing both their attention. Isabela sat up straight, primly folding her hands in her lap, but Mirabel pushed the sketchbook towards him. Coincidentally, although he didn’t think much of it at the time, Señora Alma walked into the kitchen at that exact moment.

“What do you think, Mariano?” Mirabel asked, voice friendly, but sharp eyes pointed at Isabela.

“Oh, uh,” he might not have been the brightest crayon in the box, but even he knew a trap when he saw one, “I think Isabela looks perfectly lovely in everything.”

He did not notice Señora Alma turning to examine him.

Mirabel gave him an unamused look, not fooled by his hedging, “Great. But what design do you like best?”

Mariano gulped and looked down at the sketch book, then he said, “Oh! How about the one with the little avocado? It’s like that character you and Dolores made up when we were in school, remember?”

“Doctor Avocado?” Isabela blinked into the middle distance, a slow smile growing across her face, she chuckled quietly, “I’m surprised you remember that, it’s been years since I thought about any of that stuff.”

Mariano shrugged a little sheepishly, then admitted, “I still have the drawings you made.”

And here’s where Mariano truly messed up, because personally he felt everything up to this point wasn’t really his fault. Technically, what Mariano meant to say was “I have the drawings you guys made”, which involved using the plural form of “you”; however, his mind was on Dolores and Dolores only, so without thinking he used the singular, familiar, form of “you”. It was a small detail, and even though he heard his own mistake, he didn’t think it important enough to correct it, but it’s one of those mistakes that snowballed into a really big problem. Like when he assumed the dog could be trusted not to jump on the kitchen counter while Mariano ran to the bathroom really quick.

Because what Señora Alma apparently heard was “My dearest Isabela, I have treasured that most fine art of an avocado with a medical practice for all these years simply because it was crafted by your perfect hand.”

Isabela did not end up picking the design with the little avocado, instead she went with a much more understated design. One with little pastel flowers that gracefully tumbled down her pastel skirts. Mariano finished lunch with the two sisters, then lingered in the courtyard with Isabela, hoping Dolores would make an appearance. He finally left in defeat when the sun rested on the tops of the mountains.

Fortunately (at least he thought it was fortunate) Señora Alma started inviting him and his abuela over for dinner more often.

Unfortunately (and he was correct about this being unfortunate) Dolores was always seated at the opposite end of the table from him, and barely looked at him whenever he was around.

Once again, Mariano sat himself down, and forced himself to accept that Dolores just wasn’t interested in him that way. Despite what his abuela had said.

At least he was rekindling his friendship with Isabela. They had a lot in common, both were the eldest grandchildren and carried the weight of their abuelas’ expectations. He had missed her, to a certain extent, and it was nice talking to somebody who understood what it was like to stand in front of a mirror and practice saying “Sí Abuela” in just the right tone of voice. His male friends had apparently never done that, and had in fact teased him for being vain when he’d asked. They hadn’t understood that it wasn’t about vanity, he didn’t need to look good for the sake of aesthetics, he needed to be neat and well groomed in order to set the proper example for his younger siblings and cousins. Isabela understood that, better than anyone else.

One day, his abuela asked him to take Isabela to the market, to get her help picking out gifts for the young girls in the family. Isabela had agreed, but had walked a little slower than usual, and kept getting distracted.

“Is something wrong?” he eventually asked, when he finally realized she was frowning and sighing a lot more than usual.

“I-. Well, I don’t know,” Isabela glanced at him, then at the market as it passed by around them, “Mariano, how do you feel about me?”

“What do you mean? You’re my best friend,” he had answered, because by that point she was.

“That’s it?”

“Uh, sí? Why? Has somebody-.”

“Do you… have feelings for me?”

Mariano’s eyebrows almost jumped off his face, he should have said “No” and would have said “No” but he was a bit busy gaping at her. It had never occurred to him that Isabela was somebody he even could have feelings for.

The silence dragged on without him denying his feelings out loud, forcing anyone who might overhear the exchange to draw her own pessimistic conclusions. The silence dragged on so long, in fact, that if any eavesdropping pessimists had decided she didn’t want to overhear confirmation of what she thought was destined to happen, then that eavesdropping pessimist had plenty of time to escape to the soundproofed portion of her room. Another thing he didn’t realize was a mistake until much later.

Thankfully, Isabela was his best friend, and knew him well enough to read the answer on his face, “So why are you going along with this?”

“With…?”

“With this! With our abuelas setting us up?”

He gaped at her a little more.

She frowned at him.

Silence stretched between them once more.

“Mariano, you do realize that’s what’s been happening? Don’t you?”

He could only shake his head.

She groaned, “What did you think was happening?!”

“I- I don’t know, I just thought… we’re friends,” he shrugged, “that’s-. Aren’t we friends?”

Isabela softened, she smiled a little, “Sí, we’re friends.”

“Bien, that’s uh, that’s good,” he frowned down at his shoes, then looked back up at her and asked, “they’ve been trying to set us up?”

“Sí, for months now, my abuela is starting to hint at marriage,” Isabela said. They had slowed to a standstill as he had processed what she was saying, but now she started walking again. She held her chin high, with all proper poise, and looked straight ahead with a contemplative look on her face.

“Oh,” he walked beside her, feeling comparatively clumsy and oafish, even as his steps passed smoothly over the cobbled road.

“I… am going to go along with it,” Isabela said, quietly, “there’s no other man in the village I think I could-. You’re my best friend, if I’m not going to fall in love, I might as well marry you.”

“Oh.”

They walked in silence for a while.

“What do you think?”

“About marrying each other?”

“Sí.”

“I uh-,” he hesitated, then quietly admitted, “I’ve been in love with one girl my entire life, I can’t imagine being with anyone else, but- but- she doesn’t-.”

He couldn’t continue, it always broke his heart a little to admit that Dolores didn’t love him back, but now, here, when talking about marriage, when seriously thinking about his future, saying it out loud was unbearable. He found himself sniffling a little, his bottom lip trembling.

Isabela put a hand on his shoulder.

He looked at her, and suddenly, he could see a path he’d never considered before. A path in which he married Isabela, moved into Casita, spent his life with his best friend, just down the hall from the woman he loved. He would have kids with Isabela, and raise them with her, and see Dolores every day for the rest of his life. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but it would be cruel to marry somebody who was in love with him, knowing he could never give them his heart. And it would be good for his family, to be so connected to the Madrigals.

And it would mean he would always be close to the love of his life.

“If I can’t be with her,” he said, slowly, “th-then I can’t imagine anyone better than my best friend.”

Isabela nodded, giving him a small smile. It wasn’t one of the ones she’d practiced, it didn’t match his own practiced grin. It was quiet, and warm, and reassured him that he could be happy with her.

Months continued to pass them by, and Mariano found himself thinking more and more of this life spent with his best friend. They would make an excellent team, him and Isabela, and they would have wonderful kids, kids Mariano would get to spend plenty of time with. In most households, the men were expected to go out and work, but not in la familia Madrigal. When you married a Madrigal, it became your job to stay home and take care of the kids so that the Madrigals could share their blessings with the village. He’d once thought he’d be raising Dolores’ children, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he would be just as happy raising Isabela’s kids. The more Mariano thought about his life to come, the more he realized how much he wanted to be a father.

He started spending more time with his youngest cousins, eager to practice for his oncoming life as the primary parent.

There were nights, of course, where Mariano had guilty fantasies in which Dolores would fall in love with him a little later in life, and Isabela would give him permission to be with her. These fantasies sometimes featured him saving Dolores from her horrible husband, or comforting her when her husband died in a very tragic and painful accident. But nobody needed to know about those nights, or those fantasies.

He focused on the thought of his future kids, and tried to ignore all else.

Mariano picked out the ring, he drafted up lists of baby names, he planned what he would say in his proposal with Isabela, and he tried not to think too hard about how close he would be to Dolores once he had moved into Casita.

And then his and Isabela’s plans all fell apart the night of the proposal.

In the scant hours between that disastrous dinner and Casita falling apart, all Mariano could think about was how embarrassing the evening had been for him, and the fact that Dolores had seen the whole thing. He wondered if the miracle had been trying to tell him and Isabela something, if it had been trying to discourage the match.

Then, when he found out that it had nothing to do with him, he felt horrible for being so self pitying while his best friend and the love of his life were dealing with such a crisis.

Mariano was the first to grab a shovel, and rallied the other villagers to do the same. He figured he would worry about his love life later, when Casita was done being built. He thought that neither Isabela nor Dolores had the energy or time to think about him. He thought he would never be a Madrigal, and he would just have to accept that.

Nobody ever accused Mariano of being an intellectual. In fact, they often accused him of the exact opposite, and after hearing Dolores’ side of the story, he couldn’t blame them.

“You’ve had this since we were ten?” he asked, for the fifth time. He was holding an old vision tablet, the magic long since faded from it. In it, he was on his knees, holding a ring out to Isabela as she sat primly at her dinner table.

“Sí, and I’ve looked at it almost every night since,” she shook her head ruefully, “trying to force myself to get over you.”

He stared at her, “Are you sure you don’t want to get married right now?”

Dolores giggled quietly, “I’m sure. I seem to remember you had all these plans for your wedding.”

“Our wedding,” he corrected, “it was always-. I thought you didn’t return my feelings, but I was never able to picture another bride. Not really.”

She smiled down at her lap. They were sitting side by side on a couch in the newly finished first floor of the new Casita. He was vaguely aware of the rest of her family milling around, of her father keeping a close on them, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from her face.

“You knew? When we were ten? That you love me?” he eventually asked.

“I’ve known since I got my gift.”

Mariano blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears as a smile took over his face. He leaned over and kissed her check, only to jump back when Señor Félix loudly cleared his throat. Mariano flashed him a sheepish smile, but didn’t want to spend too long not looking at Dolores.

“I-I was a little bit slow,” he admitted, “I didn’t figure it out until we were thirteen.”

“But that was when you started to pull away?” she asked.

“Pull-? Oh! No! No, no, no,” he grabbed her hand, “I was trying to be respectful. I… enjoyed being close to you in a way that uh, I figured I should get permission for before I uh, well, indulged. If that uh, if you get what I'm… getting at.”

“Oh,” Dolores giggled again, “I see.”

“If you’ve loved me all this time, why did you date Romero?”

“My Pá said that’s the best way to get over someone,” she shrugged.

Mariano couldn’t help it, he turned to look at Señor Félix with his hurt and betrayal clear on his face. Señor Félix looked startled, and actually took a step back. For a brief second Mariano was reminded of Camilo, as Señor Félix held his hands up in a questioning shrug and seemed to silently ask, “What did I do?”

“Amor,” Dolores gently pulled Mariano’s face back towards her, “it’s not his fault, I asked him for that advice.”

Mariano still couldn’t help but pout a little, “He could have told you to ask me how I felt before giving up on me.”

“Sí, and I could have asked him for advice on getting your attention,” she shrugged, “I thought this was just another case of people ignoring me in favor of Isabela.”

“I would never,” he breathed, “Dolores, she is my best friend, but you! You’re the sun in my sky, the song every bird sings, the passion too great for words to capture. You’re steady ground in an earthquake, a shelter in a storm, and the burst of laughter that cures a bad day. How could anyone not see your kindness? Your poise? Isabela is all the bright colors in a meadow, but you’re the red in my veins. I have warmth in my heart to share with others, because you keep it beating.”

Dolores was so often quiet, so often silent, but this was the first time Mariano had ever seen her struck dumb. Her lips parted in surprise, and her eyes shined with love.

Mariano knew he wasn’t an intellectual, but he liked to think he was raised right, so even though he wanted to hold her tight and kiss her, pour all the passion and longing he’d stored up into her, he didn’t. Instead he squeezed her hand, then brought it to his lips, so he could leave a gentle kiss on her fingertips.

Dolores gaped at him for another second, then with her free hand she took the old vision out of his lap and threw it like a frisbee across the room.

It hit the ground and shattered.

“So,” she said, “marriage?”

“Sí! I’ll bring my wedding journal tomorrow and you can tell me what ring design you like best,” he said, launching into an explanation of everything he’d planned.

Nobody ever accused Mariano of being a genius, but he’d stumbled his way to marrying the love of his life. So, he figured he was smart enough.

#mariano guzman #isabela madrigal #dolores madrigal #senora guzman #Encanto #Foggy writes #look! I managed to write something that isn't about Bruno!#yay me!

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jacarandaaaas · 3 months

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because I’m bored I have a question! if we ever got an encanto series would you want songs in it?

#encanto #encanto disney #disneys encanto #mirabel madrigal #isabela madrigal #bruno madrigal #luisa madrigal #camilo madrigal #dolores madrigal #pepa madrigal #felix madrigal #agustin madrigal #julieta madrigal #abuela alma madrigal #disney’s encanto #me personally if it’s the original cast give me a song every episode I love everyone’s voices #but also like I have a feeling if there was a continuation lin would come back and write bangers #i spend an embarrassing amount of time thinking about who would get a song or duets or ensemble songs #Dolores needs a solo I feel like camilo would either have a duet or solo #Antonio is precious if he had a song with anyone I would cry #I want the sisters to have a song together not just 3 lines #pepa and Felix love song….#agustin singing I LOVE MY WIFE #alma singing with like anyone #bruno I’m not sure but maybe a song with him and mirabel would be fun #idc if mirabels already had loads of songs Stephanie’s voice is great I need more mirabel songs #this is all hypotheticals #I live in delusion #embrace it #I want Mariano to have a corny song

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miracles-and-butterflies · 3 months

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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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