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applesap-fics · 1 year

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FABril Day 1 - Crush

G, 2103 words, The triplets crush on Félix.

The triplets sat on the Ortizes’ wall, facing the big construction site while they did — as Pepa called it — “boywatching”. A few guys their age and up had been asked to lend a helping hand with the construction of the new church. The town was growing exponentionally in both resources and population and the little chapel that had been hastily built when the Encanto first formed hadn’t sufficed for years.

Naturally, Bruno was looking at boys along with Pepa and Juli, because why wouldn’t he?

The triplets were fourteen and busy as anything with their miracles. They were old enough that Mamá didn’t always have to manage them together anymore. Julieta had been standing with the other merchants at the plaza to give away her little care packages, and Pepa and Bruno joined her on their breaks. Pepa never had much to do this time of the season except be sunny, and Bruno was glad to be away from Ma and her worried hovering for a little while.

(Though he appreciated that she still sat in on the visions. They had been getting weirder and worse and she worried about them, so that’s why it didn’t make Bruno feel too guilty for indulging in her affection a little bit longer. Still, a guy had to have his private moments away from his mami. Albeit with his sisters.)

“Ugh, he doesn’t even know I exist!” Julieta exploded, burying her face into her hands.

Félix had just walked past them, grinning and calling out a casual “hey, Bruno, ladies.” The air around them instantly heated up as Pepa stared with half-lidded eyes, cocking her head ponderously.

It was unanimous to anyone with eyes that Félix was a dreamboat, even if Pepa always feigned disinterest by complaining about how annoying he was. (In later years, this would only inflame her fixation on him.) He was two years older than them and way out of their league. He had stocky arms and a smile that could fight Pepa’s sunrays for attention, and as he carried a wheelbarrow packed with sandbags past them they could clearly see his muscles bulge from the effort.

It took Bruno a belayed second to wiggle his fingers back at him, and then he realized he could totally have hammed it up and pulled out one of his Don Juan-type characters to charm him--

No, too much. Too much, Bruno. That’ll never work.

“What are you talking about?” he said to Julieta, dopey smile still on his face as he watched Félix go.

“Of course he knows who you are!” Pepa added. “Duh, we’re the Madrigals.” She gestured over the three of them because it was obvious. They were the bearers of the miracle. And although Félix rarely got into accidents, he wasn’t exactly a stranger to Julieta’s magic.

Julieta stared abashedly in front of her. “I know that, but- ugh!” She threw her head down between her knees.

It was a bit surprising that she had such strong feelings for him. Bruno suspected she was just playing along, that she wasn’t really into Félix like he and Pepa were. That she just wanted to hang out with her siblings. He didn’t mind the dramatics, though.

Bruno kicked his feet. “Well, if he doesn’t know who you are it’ll leave more chance for us.”

“Oh, I’m not interested.” Pepa flicked her long frizzy hair over her shoulder. “I’m going to ask José out.”

“Which one?”

“Martinez.”

“Wow, that’s a familiar last name. I wonder who you’re trying to make jealous with that.”

She pouted. A little cloud floated over her head for a moment, but it cleared up when her expression did, suddenly struck by a fantasy. “I could have them fight over me.” She clutched her chest. “Oh, wouldn’t that be the talk of the town?”

“Oh, oh, oh!” Bruno chimed in. “A battle of life and death between cousins. José wins your hand, which leaves Félix wounded and in the care of your handsome brother who’s always been more understanding of him and knows what he deserves and gives him twice the attention you would.”

Julieta piped up, “If anyone is going to nurse him back to health, it’s me!”

“Oh, right!” That was a good fantasy too. “Yes…Yes! And that’s the moment he truly notices you! I’m standing in the doorway — I see the two of you right as I’m about to confess my feelings to him, but I realize he’s not in love with me. He’s in love with you. So I nobly walk away and let you guys follow your hearts instead.”

But in reality there was no jealousy. There was no battle. There was no kneeling next to a sickbed as either Julieta or Bruno dabbed blood or sweat away from Félix’s forehead and, in this intimacy, dared to kiss his lips with surprise bravery.

A boy arrived in the Encanto like a mirage. The first people who spotted him and his parents had to squint to make sure they didn’t recognize them since everybody knew everybody in an isolated town like theirs, but when it was established that they really must be strangers, they were quickly taken in.

They were refugees like anyone else, but unfamiliar as the trio was, the town didn’t quite trust them yet. Agustín, for example, hadn’t been invited to help out on the cathedral with the other boys until it was well near finished, and when the triplets’ quince came around, Mamá did not allow him to dance with Julieta, who’d asked Bruno — who had become fast friends with Agustín — to invite him as her chaperone. Mamá didn’t like, or rather, didn’t trust, how comically clumsy he was, the exact reason Julieta had become so well acquainted with him (and as a result completely lost eyes for Félix).

Agustín was also tall, slender and friendly, and Bruno wondered why he again liked the same boy his sister liked. It wasn’t like he’d even lost Félix out of his periphery yet.

Wasn’t that greedy of him? That he’d like to maybe reach around their shoulders and hold hands with both boys too. Félix, Pepa, him in the middle, Julieta, Agustín.

“Eh, stupid. Fantasies,” he’d dismiss himself, never quite shaking off that happy ending.

Félix danced with Pepa on their quinceañera and that was it for them.

Bruno stood next to Mamá, clutching her black mourning shroud as green overtook his vision and his body went rigid with alarm. Seeing the slender arms of an older Pepa around Félix’s broad waist, moving him however she wanted because he yielded so easily for her; seeing Félix pull up a wide umbrella big enough to shield both of them from Pepa’s stormy cloud as she cried against his shoulder; seeing them kiss.

Mamá quickly and effortlessly disappeared him from the crowd of attendants before anyone could notice his impromptu vision. Sand stirred precariously around his feet, his eyes wide and frightening.

“Querido, sit down.” She placed him on the single chair at the food-bedecked table of the dining room, chairs placed elsewhere in Casita for the party. The music was dampened just enough to put the two of them in a little bubble. Mamá’s hand cupped his cheek. “Are you alright?”

The vision had gone. Bruno slumped, hands hanging between his knees, and he nodded.

“What was it? Your expression- ay, Bruno, why now?” She said this last part more to herself than him, knuckle to her lip as she thought of its significance, or importance thereof, with a deep frown.

“No, it was a good one, Mami,” he stopped her from worrying. He noticed he was still clutching her shroud like a lifeline and let go.

“Are you sure?” Her voice was sharp.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I can’t tell you about it yet, but you’ll like it. It’s not going to happen for a while.”

Relief washed over her in a full-body shudder. “Oh… Thank you, Brunito.”

“Go back to them, okay?” He waved at the party-goers. “I’m alright. Knock on wood.” He rapped his knuckles three times against the table.

“Gracias a dios, I will.” She knocked as well, then took his face in her hands and kissed his forehead. “Eat something, alright, mijo? Then come back. We’ll talk about your vision tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

She adjusted her shroud and rejoined the party, hands jubilantly up in the air as she cheered for her daughters. Like the upsetting diversion had never happened.

When she was out of sight, Bruno slid off the table, pushing his wrists against his stinging eyes, keeping the tears at bay.

He wasn’t crying. He could never betray Pepa by being jealous of her. If he wanted Félix to come into the dining room, find him in a mess, and caress his tears away with soft sturdy words like he one day would for Pepa, that was just a separate feeling.

It wasn’t until Julieta descended from the courtyard — frantically looking around for her brother whom she knew wasn’t comfortable at big parties, especially when he had nothing to perform, a role to play, and who’d gotten more and more prone to strange meltdowns — that Bruno realized Casita had gently moved him to a more secluded space. Julieta found him tucked behind a flower pot between the corner and a cabinet, protected from stray guests spotting him. Casita moved the pot out of the way for Julieta, who squeezed herself in next to Bruno and asked what was the matter.

Her brows were furrowed and he could tell she was trying to temper her anger that she had to take a break from her own party to comfort him. But she still looked for him.

He laid his head on her shoulder.

“I’m always just going to have you,” he said softly, still kind of hoping it’d be Félix coming to get him. Or even his friend Agustín (who’d been invited, just not to act out the traditions).

“Obviously I’m missing something here or else you wouldn’t say something as mean as that,” Julieta said a tad offended, squeezing his shoulders. The annoyance she had so far kept in check came out sharp.

He slapped his face with his hands. “I always say it wrong…”

“Bruno, just calm down, okay? What happened?” She breathed in through her nose, calming herself. “Did you have a vision?”

She sounded like their mother, but unlike with Mamá he could actually share his feelings with his sister.

“Yeah,” he said. “Félix isn’t going to like me back.”

“Oh…”

He rubbed his eyes, then balled his fists around his knees. “I’m so stupid. Nobody in the Encanto is like me, I know that. I’m just weirdo freak Bruno. But I never even tried with him, you know? And now I’ve ruined it. I’m such a coward.”

“You’re not a coward, Bruno.” She bit her lip and frowned. “And you’re not a freak. You can try with other boys, maybe.”

Bruno thought of Agustín and the way Julieta sometimes looked at him, and decided he really couldn’t. “...I don’t want to make it awkward.”

“But you won’t know until you try-” The two triplets considered that for a second. “Sorry. You could know, of course.”

What was the point of trying if Bruno could toss his sand and burn incense like Mamá showed him and see for himself what he wasn’t brave enough to do? Julieta had a point, but he just wasn’t like that. He wanted to be certain first.

“No, don’t be. I’m just…being difficult again.”

She had no reply to that. “Bruno, can I be honest?”

“Yes. Always.”

“I don’t know how to help you with this.”

“That’s okay,” he said lightly. As if she could pull out clear-cut advice for every situation hidden in her pockets. That’d be the real miracle.

“And…And I really just wanna go back to the party.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“With you.”

The thing about having feelings at the age of fourteen is that, in most cases, those feelings will pass when they aren’t nurtured. On Julieta’s signal — a slight nod towards him and Pepa as they rejoined the dance court — Bruno was reminded of their plan and pulled out his firecrackers, disrupting the careful traditional dancing of their friends and their dance partners until everyone, guests and hosts, was roped into la hora loca craziness. He hugged Félix, he hopped in circles with Agustín. Bruno cried out and danced with his sisters and even goaded Mamá into a wild dance as he shook every bad feeling about the prophecy away.

Because all it should’ve been was exciting.

#bruno madrigal #felix madrigal #pepa madrigal #julieta madrigal #agustin madrigal #abuela alma madrigal #fabshipping #fabril #encanto #encanto fanfics

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ridiculoustrio · 1 year

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We started FABril to get a bit more attention for our favorite ridiculous tío trio. Not that big of a turnout, but this was expected from an on-the-low ship like this (and an ot3 to boot!) but we still appreciate everyone who reblogged, commented, and liked our works <3

While FABril has passed by two weeks already, feel free to use the promptlist whenever you choose! 🧡💙💚

We’ll keep this blog as a FABshipping archive so stick around and you might just see more!

#fabril #fabshipping #encanto

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rdsolenodonte · 8 months

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Actividad fabril de China se contrae por quinto mes y mantiene presión por estímulos

La actividad manufacturera de China se contrajo por quinto mes consecutivo en agosto, según mostró el jueves una encuesta oficial, manteniendo la presión sobre las autoridades para que brinden respaldo al crecimiento económico en medio de una demanda débil, tanto en el país como en el extranjero. En el lado positivo, los nuevos pedidos volvieron a expandirse por primera vez en cinco meses y los…

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#Actividad #China #Contracción #Fabril

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calciopics · 10 months

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Luis Suárez Miramontes (1935-2023)

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bftdx3aly · 1 year

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A travesti pauzuda Djhovanna Franzione comendo casal Suitetop Amateur milf anal gape & creampie. eat that nice gay fat ass Face fucking my college roomate until I fill her mouth with cum she swallow fille pale avec vagin exemplaire se masturbe Mature BBW Interracial Monster Cock Anal Gangbang Raiden Shogun Genshin Impact 3D HENTAI 4/8 Phoenix Marie and Harlow Harrison ffm Me and my EX girlfriend Russian mature mom masturbation

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esuemmanuel · 5 months

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No quiero que me ames, sólo quiero que me sientas y, si al sentirme, te evoco emociones fabriles que te hagan creer estar enamorada, escribe... vuela... baila... y canta. Pero, hazlo lejos de mí y de mi nombre, que yo, al final, seré nada.

I don't want you to love me, I just want you to feel me and, if when you feel me, I evoke fabulous emotions that make you believe you are in love, write... fly... dance... and sing. But, do it far away from me and my name, because I, in the end, will be nothing.

#poets #writers #authors #2023 #el hombre de la soledad #escribiendo en soledad #escritores en tumblr #the man of solitude #writing in solitude #poetas en tumblr #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #pensamientos #poeticstories

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tbmunson · 2 years

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Mirror Sex - Jonathan Byers x Fem!Reader

Day 2 of 31

Summary: Jonathan fucks you in front of a mirror to show you how pretty you are.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! P in V sex. Unprotected sex.

WC: 1.3K

October Masterlist

You weren't sure how you'd made it up the stairs, down the hall, and into your bedroom, but there you were, pressed against the now closed door, eyes closed and mouth connected to Jonathan's like your life depended on it. Your hands fell from his shoulders to his hips before slipping under the fabric and pushing it up. "You don't need this." You panted as you pulled back to remove the cotton from his body.

"Nope." He reconnected your lips in a feverish kiss. His nimble fingers worked quickly to unfasten the buttons keeping the baby pink blouse around your body.

Meanwhile, you took the opportunity to step out of your shoes and kick them into the corner. Your finger skimmed the top of his jeans before working the button open in just enough time to shrug your shirt off of your shoulders and toss it in the same direction as the other discarded articles of clothing.

Jonathan moaned lightly when you broke the kiss, trailing your lips down his jaw, neck, and to his chest where you nipped and sucked lighty as his collarbones. "Fuck, baby. You know how to make me weak, Darling." He said in a breathy whisper as his hand gently tugged your scrunchie from your hair. "So pretty." He added, looking down at the mess of waves.

"You're prettier." You smiled, looking up at him, chin resting between his freshly bruised collarbones.

He shook his head. "Oh, no. No, no, Darling. I'll show you just how pretty your are." He bent down and gave you a slow, sweet kiss as he unzipped your skirt, letting it bunch around your feet, leaving you in your underwear and thigh high stockings.

You gave him a questioning look as he pulled back.

"Come on." He smiled, pulling further away from the bed. He stopped in front of the closet door which held a full length mirror with you in front of him.. "I want you to see what I see when I fuck you." He leant down, kissing your shoulder to your neck as his hands dances around your lower torso, skimming and scratching the sensitive skin, causing you to shiver. "You like the way that sounds Angel?"

You nodded and whimpered as he pulled away, your back now exposed to the cold air. "Yeah." It was a barely there sound you weren't sure he'd hearn until he chuckled, fingers ghosting up your sides and around to unclasp your bra.

"You're so quiet when you're this submissive." He teased, letting the lacy fabril fall to the ground. "I'm used to you fighting with me to be in charge. You must really want this, huh? You wanna watch yourself get fucked by me?" He asked so low had his lips not been moving against your ear you may not have heard him.

"Yes. Yes I wanna watch myself. Jonathan, please." You weren't sure where you found the strength to carry that many words from your mouth, but you'd assumes it had something to do with the desperate ache growing between your legs and pooling in your panties.

"Fuck that sounds so nice. Take your panties off but keep the stocking in for me, and kneel, okay?"

"Okay." Your mind was blank, too excited at the thought of what was going to happen to come up with anything but compliance. You slipped the wet lace off, dropping it next to your bra, before sinking down to your knees, ass resting on your heels. You watched carefully through the mirror as Jonathan stripped himself from his jeans and boxers before turning back to you.

"Go ahead and look at yourself baby. You look so good, waiting for me." He smirked as your eyes snapped from him to yourself, scanning your own features.

You could see your own slick catching the light, glistening between your thighs as Jonathan settled behind you. You let out a whimper as you watched his hands rest on your thighs, rubbing back and forth gently, teasing as he got closer. "Please." It was a high pitched whine.

"Since you asked so nicely." Jonathan smirked as he leaned closer to your back, his hand dropping closer and closer to where you needed him. His finger slipped up and down the sopping wet seam before bumping your clit gently, causing your eyes to flutter closed at the sensation. "Aht, aht, Angel. Eyes open for me. You gotta see yourself." His finger stopped its movement as he waited for your eyes to open again.

You mumbled a small "I'm sorry." before your eyes flitted open again, watching yourself in the reflection. "Promise I'll watch, just keep touchin' me, please."

He nodded and kissed your shoulder as his finger resumes its slow circular movements around your clit. "Yeah, you're so pretty, aren't you?"

"Yeah." You sighed back, watching everything closely, focusing on where he connected with you. "Be prettier if you were inside me." You pouted, locking eyes with him through the glass.

"You think so? You think you can keep your eyes open with my cock deep inside you when your couldn't even keep them open while I played with your clit?" He was teasing, taunting you, continuing to slowly circle your bundle of nerves.

"Yeah. I can. I'll show you, but you gotta put it in." You never looked away from the mirror, hoping that would help you prove your case.

He nodded and slid his free hand from your hip to the upper part of your back to push you down slowly.

You kept your eyes trained on the mirror, flicking between your face and his as he rose to his knees. You lifted your hips with him, earning a smirk and a mumbled "Good girl." as his hands migrated to your lower back. You pushed back slightly on instinct along, eliciting a chuckle.

He slapped your ass with one hand and gripped your hip firmly with the other. "Someone's a bit impatient, huh Angel?" He asked, kneading the newly formed handprint. "That's okay. I'm gonna give you what you want." He added as his hand dropped from your ass to wrap around his cock.

You moaned out as his leaky head trailed up and down your slit, mixing your fluids and gently bumping your swollen clit.

"Watch your face when I push in, okay? Such a pretty fucking sight." He demanded, albeit gently, as he lined himself with your hole.

You nodded, unable to form words. You watched your own face at the bottom of the mirror taking in the way your brows furrowed and your jaw dropped. You knew your eyes would have rolled back if they were allowed it. "Fuck." Your voice was hushed, nearly inaudible as your eyes glaze over and turn glassy, blurring the scene a bit.

He rocked his hips into you, gently at first then gradually upped the pace until he was slamming into you, all the while you were watching it all through the glass. "So, so fucking wet. I think you like watching yourself get fucked, huh Darling?"

"Yes, fuck. Love seeing myself with your cock filling me up." You whined as he dropped his hand around your hip so his fingers could brush your clit. You wanted to scream, but settles for a loud moan of his name instead.

"That's right Angel. Who's making you feel this good, huh? Tell 'em. Tell 'em all baby." There was no doubt that the fingertips resting on your hips were going to leave small bruises, but you didn't care.

"Jonathan, fuck. I'm gonna cum. Please can I? Jonathan, please." Your body was folding in on itself, unable to support the weight as everything tightened.

His hand slipped from your hip, up your body, and around your throat so he could lift you up. "Watch baby. Watch and you can cum." He whispered into your ear.

You did. You watched how your body twitched, moving on its own to squeeze your boobs and push back into his trusts. The only thing you couldn't watch was yourself cumming because involunterialy your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came undone. You were so taken over by pleasure that you didn't notice when he finished, spilling himself inside of you until he pulled out and it dripped down your leg, meeting the thin material of the stockings.

"So fucking pretty." He mumbled, kissing and biting gently as your jaw, hands caressing your sides as your slowly came down from your high.

#jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers x fem!reader #jonathan byers smut #stranger things #stranger things smut #kinktober

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mondosalamone · 11 months

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📣Palpitando el próximo Encuentro Salamónico que se va a realizar la semana próxima en Guaminí, y del cual voy a ser parte por primera vez, comparto algunas imágenes de las obras que Salamone realizó en la localidad. Y también un poco de información. 👷‍♂️Durante 1937, se construyeron las obras que se repartieron por el Partido de Guaminí: la municipalidad, la plaza Alsina, el Cristo y el matadero en la ciudad cabecera. Por otro lado se realizaron las delegaciones municipales en Casbas, Garré y Laguna Alsina, estas últimas en estilo neocolonial. 🗼 Volviendo a la muni, podemos observar detalles de los interiores, incluyendo lámparas y mobiliario del salón donde sesiona el Honorable Concejo Deliberante. 🏭 El matadero posee un estilo futurista que bien podría haber salido de la película Metrópolis o de un cómic de la época. En el exterior, se destaca su torre tanque con unos 30 metros de altura y en su interior, la sala de faena de forma semicircular. ✝️También encontramos un Cristo que repite el mismo diseño salamónico de los ya vistos en capillas de cementerios, entradas de pueblos y otros lugares, réplicas en menor escala del de Laprida. 🚢 Por otra parte, también me parece interesante compartir una idea que plantea la Arq. Romina Fiorentino. Desde uno de los fascículos de Patrimonio argentino, publicados por Clarín hace diez años, ella habla de un diálogo entre matadero y municipalidad con correlaciones estilísticas muy marcadas, “con un lenguaje entre náutico y fabril, y a modo de metáfora esta lectura transatlántica se relaciona con las actividades lacustres de la ciudad.” 📚 Todavía quedan ejemplares de mi fotolibro Vistas de la pampa salamónica. Pueden escribirme por privado o ver más información en las Historias destacadas. 📸 ¿Visitaron alguna de las obras de Salamone en Guaminí? ¿Cuál es su favorita? 👋Nos vemos en el Encuentro Salamónico!

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aardappel-van-mijn-oog · 1 month

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My Other Conlang

I've talked about Léna and Kkeṛhaqom on this blog, but never mentioned my most fleshed-out conlang, Rhodian. You can read all about it here but in short, it's a fictional Romance language heavily influenced by Doric Greek.

Anyway, I've been translating my favourite novel, The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet into it, and this has been my favourite paragraph so far. The first paragraph of chapter 2 is as follows:

Vyvre i cenoma erat omnia extra quietu. Terralaoi nunquau ftanerun. Alicui vo aluit i cton, esit modìcu suescre tos torbos e crepitos naou; atmosfera sempre ỳ cu ner tça macýn vecet. Ashby-a, iste fone eran ast tau hameré eiie pulsasiene. Y potuit notare quû devuerit ciere se ab gemite filtra abros eie cliné tegu. Quû saxa creperun to corpu forý cu eora pittettia gregale, ecvat quy eran sates parvy pre agnoere e quy eran cíndunoi. Y ecvat ab aritme pomecîie triens trans radio quantu mecu gegit intre y e ántropu ci podio alla. Te iste eran fone vyte prostranstvistoru, ys susensu vulnerablitas e macritas. Memnescerun helicou clablies esset, esse vyvu. Sè iste fone valuerun cê siriau. Absentia fone valuit aber ne effluxit magi, dvigateli ne poivet magi, retia tîazcesta fabriles ne tenuerun magi der podia ci hume. Silentia erat merx vacuie forá. Silentia erat mors.

Translation: Living in space was anything but quiet. Grounders never expected that. For anyone who had grown up planetside, it took some time to get used to the clicks and hums of a ship, the ever-present ambiance that came with living inside a piece of machinery. But to Ashby, those sounds were as ordinary as his own heartbeat. He could tell when it was time to wake by the sigh of the air filter over his bed. When rocks hit the outer hull with their familiar pattering, he knew which were small enough to ignore, and which meant trouble. He could tell by the amount of static crackling over the ansible how far away he was from the person on the other end. These were the sounds of spacer life, an underscore of vulnerability and distance. They were reminders of what a fragile thing it was to be alive. But those sounds also meant safety. An absence of sound meant that air was no longer flowing, engines no longer running, artigrav nets no longer holding your feet to the floor. Silence belonged to the vacuum outside. Silence was death.

#langblr #linguistics #language #conlang #constructed language #worldbuilding #translation #the long way to a small angry planet #the long way #romance languages #romlangs

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pogona · 1 year

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FABril day 2 - Music 🐀🎶

#encanto #bruno madrigal #agustin madrigal #fabshipping #fabril #bruno/agustin

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nonscnse · 6 months

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* 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 from here

berta couldn't help chuckling at his words. "if you want me to stop, i will" she teased, letting the water drench her clothes even more. "i'm wearing red, i'm pretty sure you'll be able to see what i wear under this dress" she mused as she moved the hose down so the fabril could somehow show diesel what she was wearing under that dress.

#𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒 / berta rojas #brckensociety

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applesap-fics · 1 year

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FABril day 6 - Photograph

G, 1385 words, Camilo & Isabela, implied Félix/Agustín/Bruno

Camilo and Isabela find incriminating pictures and have a few thoughts about them.

Camilo is not proud of the meltdown he had when he found out his mami dated other guys before his dad. What he holds in his hands right now somehow feels even worse.

In the back of his dad’s hobby cabinet that once stood in his parents’ room — now part of the pile of selectively sorted rubble next to what remains of Casita — he’s found a tintype photograph faded at the edges of his father kissing another woman.

It makes no sense. His dad is plighted to Mom, his eternal devotion to her as clear as the morning sun. Surely this has been the case since the dawn of time; like the moon has the sun, like the night sky has the stars, his father has his mother and vice versa.

His mouth twitches. The pair doesn’t even look that young. The envelope he pulled it out of said ‘1923-1925’. Pa must’ve seen the woman right before Mami.

An intense cocktail of fury and denial swirls inside his chest and dries out his lips. Before he has time to process any of this, his cousin pops up behind him.

“Woah, is that tío Bruno?” Isabela says, peeking over his shoulder. Her words drop like stones from great heights because woah, is it? That’s absurd, and, no fucking way, no way no way no way.

“No,” Camilo croaks dismissively. “No way. I’m the only changeling here.” He squints and presses his nose against the paper to inspect the woman to confirm that she is not, in fact, their tío Bruno. But it’s a little difficult because the photo is in black and white and her face is turned toward…she’s kissing Papi. And Camilo’s hands are shaking.

He can’t color-type the woman in order to determine if she’s wearing Bruno green or Abuela maroon. Her hair is dark and curly like tía Julieta’s, falling to her shoulders, and parted with a bow the way Mami does it. She wears a modest dress that covers her from wrist to neck, a lace shroud draped over her shoulders; Abuela’s signature look. In her ears hang large hoops that look like Mami’s and her nose is kind of big for a lady-

“Guess you got it from him, then,” Isabela says. “Two dads! Wow. Good for you, Milo.”

He twists around. “He’s not my dad. This is probably just one of his telenovela things, right?” That last word comes out a tad too desperate, so he tries to rectify it with a weaker “right?”.

Isabela shrugs her shoulders. “He’s probably just goofing around.” Camilo can only hope so. Their uncle does that a lot. “Are there more?

In fact, there are more photographs. The two cousins huddle behind the cabinet, hidden from view from the others working around the construction site. There’s a bunch more in the envelope Camilo found the first offending tintype in, but a lot of them are simply pictures of their parents from when they were younger: tía Julieta without her worry lines. Mami and Papi — these feel much more correct. Young Abuela with braids, so weird. Tío Bruno in more dresses. Tío Agustín- oh.

“Well, would you look at this,” Camilo says, waving the picture in his cousin’s face, hoping the anxious beating in his chest will disappear if he taunts her. “Seems like tío Bruno’s been getting around.”

Isabela snatches the tintype out of his hand. Sure enough, it’s tío Bruno and her father. Bruno wears a different top Camilo thinks is one of tía Julieta’s, bare at the shoulders with a shawl draped over them. His face is clean-shaven, softened with make-up, and he’s looking up at Agustín with an arm around his waist. Tío Gus looks down equally smitten. It’s a damn near exact copy of how he and tía Julieta always stand together, at ease like the unit they are. Having each other for support.

“He’s…He’s probably copying my mother,” Isabela says coolly. But she adds an equally fragile “right?” after. “It’s a joke.”

The problem is that it looks genuine, their affection. And not in a way Camilo knows Bruno roleplays. It’s the face he makes when he dreams away with a romantic story.

Barring the contentious truth that Papi used to date other people before Mami, the pictures make him feel weird. Like they’re snapshots into relationships Camilo isn’t supposed to be privy to. Hidden in the back of his father’s cabinet. Not both his parents’. Who has ever heard of three men in love?

“They look pretty into it,” Camilo says, feigning casualness. “But that would mean that our dads are…and…they’re not like that…are they?”

“It’s hard to imagine.”

“Not that I think anything is wrong with that,” Camilo says, just in case. It would be hypocritical of him, after all. It’s just…it’s a bit of a blow to consider that Papi could be like him. “It’s like you said. Hard to imagine.”

Isabela gives him a queer, scrutinizing look. “No. I wouldn’t mind either.”

For a second, the world stands still against Camilo’s wish that it should get on with it.

Frowning, Isabela studies the picture for a moment longer. Then her face slackens a little as she gets used to the idea of her dad getting it on with their uncle. “If this is what we think it is, and that’s a big if, do you think they’re still…”

Camilo shrugs.

Having tío Bruno back with the family is weird. Suddenly there’s this new guy messing up the dynamic between everyone. Mirabel has become an emotional support niece, like a crutch that Bruno uses to lean on whenever the family and the neighbors get to be too much. The triplets are a triad again, the unspoken gap filled with someone they have evidently missed between them. The stories that are coming out from the adults now don’t need to accord for one missing member. They no longer trip and fall over the guy they’re supposed to forget, or close the door on him like he’s a boogeyman to banish.

That last one is a very fun but problematic image Camilo helped perpetrate and hasn’t quite reconciled with. Really, Camilo kind of likes the guy. Bruno is shy but creative and outwardly odd. He’s nothing what he thought Bruno was.

No signs of a rekindling romance between Papi and los Tíos Ridículos though. Not that Camilo noticed, anyway.

“Doesn’t look like it,” he says to Isabela.

“No?” she offers. “You don’t see tío Bruno looking all moony for no reason and wonder what he’s thinking about?”

“Sure I do. Just don’t think it’s about our dads. I mean, I kinda assumed that he did that because he’s Bruno.”

“Yeah,” Isabela agrees. “I’m not about to ask him, by the way.”

“You’re not?” Camilo asks disappointed. It’s been a while since he’s had an adventure — everyone else in the family seems to get one. “Then how are we supposed to find out-”

She places her hand on his shoulder. “Milo, maybe this is one of those things that’ll come out when it’s time.”

Isabela’s secret weapon is congeniality. Camilo has always thought that poking and bullying that mask of perfection off of her is fun, knowing there’s a loser like him underneath the princess. But being on the receiving end of that generous face makes it hard to deny the resemblance between her and Abuela. Ergo, he crumples like a little boy under her gaze.

“If tío Bruno and our dads need to have a conversation,” she says sternly, “that’s between them. There’s no way I’m asking tío Bruno and freaking him out — if these photographs are what we think they are and he’s not just putting on a play.”

She has a point. There’s a chance he’ll flat out deny or skirt the issue, which Bruno has done before with less thrilling subjects than forbidden romance. It has been two months since the house fell down and their uncle got plastered back into their lives like a gob of spackle. He’s barely getting used to everyone seeing him. Literally.

“Or maybe it’s nothing and he just likes wearing lady’s dresses.” She shrugs with a smile.

The two of them gather all the photographs back into the envelope and place it in the back of Papi’s cabinet where Camilo found it, hiding the memories a little while longer until they’re ready to come out.

#yes i know its not april anymore i need this challenge finished OK?#encanto #camilo madrigal #isabela madrigal #bruno madrigal #felix madrigal #agustin madrigal #encanto fanfic #fabril #fabshipping #day 7 tomorrow I PROMMY #this was longer but i decided against putting in the bits that just.. didnt flow at all #beating the 'dont care about camilo' allegations #by making him gay thats right

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