#cough dolores and Antonio

[jacarandaaaas]

Love reading your opinions on the characters and movie, it's refreshing to not see that repetitive hate and you make some good points

The discussions and others adding to that is also interesting

aww thank u anon! I just think these characters are so 3 dimensional it’s impossible to boil them down to one thing! isabela is the prissy oldest sister until you realize actually she’s not! luisa is the strong confident one until you realize no she’s not! These characters are so complex I just want to appreciate all of them!

I also love partaking in discussions and find your guys perspective interesting! It’s fun to dissect these characters and this story!

[dragoneyes618]

now and always

"Name this child," Padre Flores intoned, and paused, waiting for Félix and Pepa to respond.

It was Pepa who answered, taking a deep breath. The family had heard the baby's name before, of course, he was a month old. But never his full name, not until now, and with good reason. She and Félix had had many hushed conversations in the past month, whenever they were sure Dolores was in her room.

Dolores, proud to be named as godmother, stood beside her father, carefully holding her baby brother. Did she know? They'd done their best not to let her overhear them, unsure themselves of their final decision until recently. But her daughter heard everything.

Félix grasped her hand.

Pepa took another deep breath. "Antonio," she said. The sun was shining and it was drizzling all at once, but her voice was steady. "Antonio Bruno Espinosa Madrigal."

The church had already been quite, but the silence that followed was so loud Pepa could hear it ring.

Padre Flores almost dropped the prayer book.

Agustín nearly fell out of his seat. Julieta steadied him, a hand over her mouth.

For just a moment, Camilo was a tall, glowing green figure with a wicked grin.

Flowers sprouted out of Isabela's hair.

And Mamá....Mamá had her hand over her heart. In the brief moment that Pepa risked looking at her, her eyes were closed. Pepa looked away before she opened them.

Padre Flores coughed loudly, several times, and cleared his throat. "Right!" he said quickly. "Okay, uh, do you, Félix and Pepa Madrigal...."

-

Dolores made a point of talking to her baby brother like he could understand her and loudly calling him by his full name. Her parents assumed the former was because she was excited to have a baby sibling, and the latter was to get them all used to his name.

Bruno wept.

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

THINGS I LOVE ABOUT YOU

This chapter is 18+, if you're a minor do not read this!

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Summary:

You and Bruno resumed your explorations after lunch.

Warnings: body worship, anxiety, love confession, explicit content, premature ejaculation.

Chapter 2

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Sitting at the kitchen tablet you greeted Abuela Alma with a kiss on her right cheek, while Bruno took his seat next to you.

As always Julieta's cooking was delicious and you cleaned your plate and made sure Bruno has done the same, occasionally holding his hand under the table, a thing that did not go unnoticed by Camilo who wiggled his eyebrows whispering "ay Tìo!" earning an elbow to the ribs by Luisa, making him cough.

"Tìa Y/N?" You heard Antonio's small voice over the chatting of the rest of the familia.

For the little Madrigal, you were his tìa the moment you walked through the front door for the first time and you found that so incredibly sweet.

"Tell me, mi Sobrino." You answered leaning over the table to hear him better.

"You and tìo are going to marry and make Abuela more...Abuela?" He asked looking at one of Bruno's rats sitting on his shoulder like the small animal just dropped the gossip into his ear.

It was your time to cough a little, glancing at your man who was red once again from embarrassment, ears burning hot but spoke kindly to Antonio.

"Not yet cariño, but when we'll decide you'll be the first one to know!" And he directed a weak smile toward Dolores because, of course, she was the real first to know.

"You don't ask these things to grown-ups, Antonio" Felix scolded him good-heartedly.

"But they stare at each other like you and mamà!" Antonio answered back.

At the table fell the silence before everyone started snorting and then laughing, even Bruno.

It was so rare to hear him laugh like that, it was another thing to add to your list because his laughter was like honey.

His shoulders shook and a rosy colour tinted his cheeks, highlighting his beautiful features.

When lunch was finished you offered to help with washing the dishes but Pepa sent you away with a wink and a knowing smile.

"Maybe my Antonino was right, what do you think Y/N?" And she vanished in the kitchen with a wide rainbow on her head.

Once again in your room, you noticed Bruno fidgeting with his hands while sitting on his bed in the same spot as before, looking down, like the floor was the most interesting thing in the world, he was feeling anxious again.

"Sorry for earlier, that rat was Gabriela, I didn't give her a role she liked in one of my acts, she was probably searching for a kind of revenge! But maybe she wasn't wrong...O-or maybe yes?" He finally looked at you, scanning your face, hoping for an answer.

"For the marriage or the babies? Do you want that?" You let out a small laugh, caressing Bruno's cheeks.

"Not necessarily in this specific order." he mumbled before slapping a hand on his mouth to shut himself up, he intended to think about it instead of telling it out loud.

The sound seemed to echo through the stone walls of his room.

You giggled and then assumed a serious expression, your eyes were bored into his, making him a bit nervous but for his own sake.

"Bruno, te amo. I love you with my heart and soul..." You confessed.

"I know, you show it to me every day...a-and before. I love my familia and I always wanted one on my own but...you know who I am and what happened. Y/N, I love you too..." Bruno felt a lump forming in his throat and gently tugged at your hips, silently asking you to sit on his lap again, he liked that position a lot because feeling the heat and weight of your body on his relaxed him. 

"Want me to resume our earlier activity? Or should I restart from the beginning, mi amor?" You spoke, placing soft kisses on his face while he was pondering his answer.

The answer never came, you felt him tense again, you thought he should have imagined something bad.

"Bruno?" You called. 

"I just realized that no one ever talked to me like you do, touched or kissed me...no one ever loved me Y/N, so I've never...mh you know...nunca hice el amor" he muttered the last sentence.

He hid his face in his hands, tears already treating to fall from his eyes and he started mumbling the way he does when something worried him.

"Bruno, we don't have to if you don't want. It's just fine this way! I don't want to force you into anything, mi Corazon" you heard him mumbling something that seemed "I want to but I'm scared".

"Maybe we can try things? If you don't like them I'll stop, promise." At your suggestion, he removed his hands and sniffed, nodding in approval.

You carded your fingers into his hair and kissed him with love, swiping occasionally your tongue on his lower lip until he get the hint, letting you in, tasting the sweet taste of mangoes you shared before.

Noticing that he had no idea of what to do with his hands, you put them on your waist which he grabbed on like a lifeline.

You swirled your tongue into his mouth gently, exploring it deeply and earning some small pleased moans from Bruno, goosebumps forming on his skin.

He was a quick learner and he tried to match your movement at his best before the oxygen in your lungs finished forcing you both to come up for air, panting from just an inch apart.

"I like these kisses" he stated breathless, looking down at your mouth and leaning in asking for more, you joined once again your lips together, making him curl his toes inside his sandals.

He secretly took some glances at you, slightly opening his eyes once in a while for making sure you were not a vision of his, that you were there with him for real. 

As you expected Bruno preferred to give in all the control you wanted, making you incline his head as you pleased and change angles.

"Can I remove your ruana?" You cooed placing hot kisses from an angle of his mouth to his jaw and neck, nipping at the skin there and feeling his quickening pulse against your moist lips.

He nodded and raised his arms while you gently remove the clothing and as soon as it was gone you latched on his neck again, his natural scent that reminded you of wood and chocolate, filled your nose.

The weak whimpers he tried to suppress were lovely music to your ears.

It took you by surprise seeing Bruno unbuttoning his brown shirt, fingers trembling and chest heaving, he tried to discard the piece of clothing like it was burning his skin like acid.

You make him pause.

"S-sorry I-I was kind of...I'm just hot" he stammered.

It needed every fibre of your entire being to not say "Yeah, you are." because seeing him with mussed hair, half-lidded eyes, swollen lips and red cheeks was making you light-headed. 

You removed his shirt for him and you did the same, tossing your blouse over your shoulder.

"Could you lay down?" You said instead.

He silently slipped under your form, laying down fully on the bed, hands on both sides of his head which was framed by his curls.

He was breathtaking.

Taking place once more on him, you caressed his chest travelling on his ribs to end on his abdomen, feeling every muscle shift under the skin.

Your hips hazardously rolled down on his and with a swift barely catchable motion Bruno was sitting up, hands tightly held your wrists.

"PLEASE, STOP!" He breathed desperately, green glowing eyes wide, he closed them shut the very moment later, tremors ran through his body although he hid his face in the crook of your neck, gasping.

"Did he just-...?" you thought.

Peering down you saw a dark patch spreading on his groin and your brain kind of short-circuited.

Bruno was feeling miserable, burning with shame, he didn't even have the strength to apologize, fearing he'd disgusted you.

"Bruno?" You called after seconds of silence, he was motionless and still hiding his face.

"I'm sorry! Please don't hate me, I'm sorry, I couldn't take it...don't leave, please" he repeated pressing on your neck more and lacing his arms around you, holding you tight.

"Oh, Bruno, I'm not going anywhere." You reassured him, caressing his head, making him look at you.

"Don't worry about anything, okay? I'm not disappointed or disgusted. Do you want to stop?"You said low, Bruno was glaring at you with adoration.

He inhaled deeply before answering with determination.

"I want to be good for you, so no, I don't want to stop" making you stand up briefly to toss away his ruined pants but keeping his soaked underwear on even if his cooling down release was starting to feel uncomfortable.

You pulled down your skirt making it pool around your feet and stepped out of it, Bruno was watching with his mouth open recognizing that he had never seen you without clothes before, his fingers felt itchy due to the desire of touching every inch of skin you uncovered.

Slipped out of your undergarments you returned to Bruno who was about to do the same but was stopped by your question.

"Can I?" 

"Uh, just don't expect much, I'm not very b-" you didn't let him finish and grasped the hem of his underwear and pulled them away.

"I thought only your older nephew was into jokes, Bruno. How do you want me?" You murmured into his ear making him thrust involuntary his hips upward, dying for the need of any kind of friction.

"On your back, if you want to."

He was on your body in an instant, returning all the kisses you gave him, he explored your body deeply and you guided his shaking hands to touch your breasts.

 It was a foreign sensation to him but he soon began massaging it and kissing your sternum.

 You encouraged him to move his pelvis against yours, lacing your legs behind him and starting to move sinuously.

Bruno moaned loudly and searched your eyes for permission he reached down, taking himself in hand and slowly pressing inside you.

It was your turn to moan because Bruno felt heavenly good and you let him know it, showering him with praises that boosted his confidence until he bottomed out to the last inch, stilling for letting you adjust.

"So good Bruno, so perfect my love. You can move now" you sighed.

The sensation took Bruno off-guard as he almost collapsed on you, the pleasure was overwhelming and the deliciously warm tightness of your body made him nearly delirious.

He moved slowly and deep, sometimes barely pulling out for just grinding inside you, your laboured breaths and moans were the only sounds filling the room.

"Dios mio, si- ah! Y/N!" Bruno whined between thrusts, he began to be incoherent, just sobs and low groans mixed with your name like it was to only word he knew as you whispered how good he was and made you feel against his parted lips.

His movements lost their pace as he approached his climax, looking into your eyes with desperation and love while his own green eyes started to glow brightly.

"Y/N! Y/N! Oh, Y/N!!" He screamed, thrusting one more time and stilling buried inside you, making your insides quiver and clamping on him as you reached your peak calling his name.

You were both out of air, lungs burning until the afterglow washed over you both, Bruno collapsed over your body and you played with the damped curls on his neck. 

Once he recovered, he rolled to the side taking you with him, caressing your shoulder and face.

"I love you" he confessed once more "you don't know how happy I am to have you in my life...Y/N, would you marry me?"

It was your turn to stare at him incredulously but before he might have thought of a negative answer you shook your head in agreement with tears filling your eyes.

"Yes, yes, of course, yes!" You laughed as he cried for happiness.

After more kisses and sweet words, you both fall asleep in each other arms, legs still intertwined and a serene expression on your faces.

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Hello! I have a few questions (after compiling all the information about the AU in a google docs haha), hope you don't mind answering them!

Is Dolores mostly doing paper work (like Terry at the start of the series), or is she also actively participating in some dangerous operations/patrol?

How does Dolores feel about the men in the precinct? Are the men in the precinct considerate of her experience, did she tell everyone about it?

Who is the most successful detective in the precinct (i.e. who has the most closed cases)? Either at the start of the series or in the middle, if it’s the major plot point

How do Pedro and Antonio relate to the rest of the cast?

Do you have ideas for the designs of other characters? Which of my designs would you want to change and how (apart from the heights of course)? They are not exactly thought through so no offense really if you don't like them. The most thought was put into Camilo’s design but it really is limited by ‘he seems like a guy who would dress up to work like he’s on a date, just because he appreciates fashion and this is why he is not "afraid" to wear pink’, bUT I might be wrong

Oh, and since we know their ages, are the main characters single or do they have significant others (and children)? Are any of them queer?

Also, is it better to send separate asks for each question...?

Not at all! I love receiving asks! If you forget to mention the AU, don’t worry about it, I usually can work out given context. 😄

Dolores is actively involved in dangerous operations, though it should be noted that she definitely picks her partners to avoid working with certain people *cough* Camilo. The only two who only do paper work being Osvaldo and Rendon.

She has not told any man/detective about her previous experience. The men on the squad are genuinely nice, well, Osvaldo is Hitchcock so that may be debatable. I digress, the only person she has opened up to is Mirabel, who has definitely experienced similar issues - partially due to the job of an assistant/secretary being so over-sexualised.

Any of Isabela, Dolores, Luisa and Camilo would argue to death about themself being their precinct’s best detective. Isabela and Camilo are actively competing about it, similar to Amy and Jake’s bet. Obviously with no romantic implications. They are just competitive and dramatic shits. Dolores probably has the best numbers and definitely brags about it.

Antonio will be this AU’s version of Nikolaj further down the line. Pedro is still Alma’s husband and Bruno’s father, who died in action and is subsequently a famous detective - this was all prior Bruno’s birth, in case you were wondering. But it definitely puts pressure on Bruno to live up to his father’s legacy.

As far as fashion goes…

Mirabel, I believe I discussed her previously? Vintage, formal, shouldn’t look more modern than about 1950. Always in a skirt, blouse and heels.

Dolores is very accurate. Very Amy-coded. A lot of business wear and suits, hair always tied up. Usually with some red or shade of. (They all stick to their colours for the most part). Very professional looking, in summary.

Isabela is very Rosa in terms of style. Boots, leather jacket, looks like she would and could kill you. But with a little more colour and dramatic flair, usually splattered a bit. Definitely has a dyed streak or two in her hair. Winged eyeliner.

Speaking of dramatic flair, let’s talk about Camilo. He is definitely very into fashion!! The most flamboyant dresser in the 99. Probably has been told to change a couple of times by Dolores and/or Bruno. Not professional or business-like at all, probably a lot of bright colours and bold patterns, hell, maybe even sparkles. He dresses for himself and it shows. Definitely wouldn’t be afraid to wear pink.

Luisa also dresses for herself, but nowhere near as dramatic. She prioritises comfort. But still wants her choices to be practical enough for physical activity and athletics, of course. Definitely has little hints of Mirabel’s embroidery in some of her clothes.

Osvaldo, Rendon and Aaron probably stay very close to their source material. Just add a badge and gun, and they are good to go. Basic shirt, trousers, tie, etc.

As for partners…

Osvaldo is unsurprisingly single. Probably has unofficial step-children.

Rendon has a wife, but she is never seen or mentioned by name. He also has two kids, who are fully grown by now, that are never named or mentioned by name either.

Bruno, who is gay, is married to a man, Alfonso Hernandez, who does work as a professor because he’s basically Kevin. (Now that I’m thinking about it, it is highly likely Alfonso taught Mirabel at some point when she was at university).

Dolores and Mariano are together and engaged by the start of the series, but not yet married. Due to being too busy. That will happen later.

Isabela, a lesbian, has a girlfriend/common-law partner, Lili. Secretly. She hasn’t told anyone she works with, they think she is single. She finds it amusing that the squad (mainly just Luisa, Camilo and Aaron) have theories that she secretly kills all of her dates.

Luisa is also a lesbian. She had a serious girlfriend (during the time at her previous precinct) but was dumped because she cared too much for her sister. She was spending a lot of time with Mirabel, who, for context, had gotten caught in a collapsing building accident and was very injured. Their parents were too busy to care for Mirabel, so Luisa became her primary caretaker. She hasn’t gotten back into dating subsequently.

Aaron is divorced and looking to find a new girl. He tries his luck with Mirabel but it doesn’t go anywhere. Will probably get married again to his variant of Genevieve some time lager.

Camilo, gay, is also single. He does experience a couple dates before ultimately getting together with Marco Osma and marry him, but that is much further into the series.

Mirabel is aromantic and asexual. She does not want or need a relationship. Has never been in one or been on a date.

I hope this answers all of your questions! Feel free to send more!

[sokkas-first-fangirl]

Mirabel Birthday prompt: Mirabel watching as the entire family does a horrible job of acting normal while they plan a surprise party

🙂

Her family were terrible actors sometimes. For a family of people who were so good at hiding their feelings, thoughts and stress, they were terrible at hiding when they were planning something.

Mirabel could admit, that included her. When she was planning a surprise, she knew her giddiness hinted at something. But she couldn't help it! She just got so excited!

And so it went for the rest of her family. Her birthday was coming up, two weeks away now, and it was painfully obvious they were hiding something. Conversations stopped when she entered the room. Dolores squeaked frequently and refused to make eye-contact. Luisa giggled at random. Antonio kept giving her a beaming smile and asked her questions like, "Do you want a new dress?"

Yeah. Obvious.

The front doors opened and Casita suddenly rattled the floor, hastily pushing Mirabel towards Abuela.

"Ah, Mira!" Abuela's smile was a little too wide and she looked worriedly at the doors as Félix came running in, doing a poor job of hiding the armful of wrapping paper rolls in his arms, and a big bag of what looked like balloons. "Perhaps you could help me with something in town, amor?"

"Sure, Abuela," Mirabel said with an amused smirk. "What is it?"

Abuela plainly hadn't thought that far ahead. She gave an undignified, sputtering cough and quickly steered Mirabel towards the back doors. Casita rippled, hurrying them along. Mirabel could hear Agustín calling, "Pepa, did you get it?" and Pepa practically screaming back, "Keep your voice down, idiot!"

"How about we just take a walk instead?" Abuela said with a sigh. Laughing, Mirabel linked her arm with Abuela's.

Her family was obvious. So terribly, horribly, ridiculously obvious.

It was a good job she loved them so much. Anyone else would tease them mercilessly.

[yellowcry]

Sick Madrigals' gifts headcanons

When gifted Madrigals are sick, they lose control over their gifts to some extent

Julieta is fairly the easiest, as she can avoid using her gift altogether. Plus the healing nature of it. Effect of her food would be slowed down, but not dissapear completely. The healing depends on Julieta's state when someone eats it and not during the cooking process.

Pepa's weather gets out of control, often creating a constant rain or snow around her. This probably only makes her state worse for a while

Bruno starts seeing fake visions that won't actually come to reality in the future. Not every vision is fake, some of them are normal. But there's no way to tell if vision was true or not.

Isabela accidentally sprouts with withered/rotting plants. There's not much else to say

Dolores's hearing starts to jump from very poor to extremely strong. At one moment she can be completely deaf and half of hour later a sound of falling feather would be as loud as a bomb blown right next to her ear

Luisa loses ability to hold objects with right pressure on them. Which means she can either broke things because she grips them with too much strength, or the opposite — it will fall out of her hands because she holds them way weaker than she has to.

Camilo shapeshifts without wanting to. It often happened with sneezing or coughing, but can go on it's own. Sometimes Camilo don't even realize he has changed form.

Antonio speaks animal language occasionally. He isn't aware when it happens, thinking that he talks normally, leaving everyone else confused.

[usedtobeguest123]

The Dream

Hola, Casita! It's been a while since I've been on here, but this little draft of a chapter has been tickling the back of my mind nevertheless. It's pretty quiet in the Encanto fandom these days, so I thought I'd post it here and perhaps that would motivate me to polish it up and come back to my long lost Encanto WIP -- La Traes. This piece of writing can mostly be read on it's own, with a few references to the story it comes from that don't take away too much from the overall one-shotness. I haven't posted it to A03 yet, but hopefully I will eventually.

For now, enjoy this Tío Bruno - Mirabel family fluff, and check out the full story if you want more. Summary: Mirabel has a nightmare, and Tío Bruno offers some unorthodox advice.

TW: Brief description of main character deaths, but only in the context of a dream. I always write with a PG rating.

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“…the miracle is dying because of you!” The words flew out of her mouth before she could think about the consequences. She watched them strike her Abuela, watched the light dim from her eyes as the accusation settled in her chest. Mirabel reached out, but Abuela was already fading before her, a hand on her heart, her edges shimmering and shivering as if Mirabel had dropped a stone into a pool that reflected her. 

BECAUSE OF YOU. BECAUSE OF YOU. Her own words echoed around her, her voice distorting as it layered over itself again and again, growing in intensity until it was deafeningly loud, incomprehensible and terrible. 

CRACK. Behind her, the echoing words converged into a single point. When she turned to look, all she saw before her was a huge void where the magical candle should have been, a split forming down the middle of Casita, yawning away from itself and then suddenly caving inwards in a cascading avalanche of destruction. The dust filled her lungs and made her cough, it stung her eyes. She blinked rapidly, desperately trying to clear her vision so she could see…she needed to be able to see to–to find them, to help…

The horrific, ear splitting sound of cracking plaster and crumbling stone echoed around her, so loud it felt like her chest was breaking apart along with it. She covered her head and ran forward, feeling debris pummel her arms. She skidded to a stop on her knees as the sound reached a crescendo, bending forward to protect the precious thing that was suddenly in her lap. Her arms had been empty only a moment ago, but suddenly they were full and she knew she had to protect whatever it was with all she had, with her life. 

Then silence. Complete and total silence.

She looked down in her arms. It was Antonio, she was holding Antonio. He lay there, covered in dust and dirt, unmoving. A sob broke from her chest. She shook him but he didn’t wake, she was too late, she didn’t save him. She looked up in horror, searching for someone, anyone to help her. She was surrounded by the broken body of Casita, and in the rubble before her she could see buried faces peeking through. Her mother. Her father. Abuela. Camilo and Luisa. Tía Pepa, Tío Felix, Dolores, Isabela. Tío Bruno. 

They were all gone. She could see it in their blank, uncannily still faces that all seemed to look toward her, accusingly. They were all lost, buried in the brokenness and destruction around her, and it was all her fault. It was all her fault. It was all her fault. 

And she was alone.

Through it all, though she yelled and screamed with all her strength, until her throat hurt from the effort…all that came forth from her chest, all that surrounded her, was silence. 

Mirabel bolted upright in her bed, a strangled cry bursting from her throat as she grabbed frantically at the blankets and sheets that lay bunched in her lap. She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide, as she slowly realized it was a dream. It was a dream, it was a dream, it was a dream…she repeated it to herself, squeezing her eyes shut with a single, quiet sob. 

She was shaking. She tried to take a deep breath, but it was shaky, too. She wiped at the tears on her face and blinked rapidly at the ceiling, trying to dispel the haunting images from her head, to keep them from jumbling with the very real memories of that horrible night a year and a half ago. Behind her, Casita opened her bedroom shutter with a squeak, reaching toward her in concern, but Mirabel jumped away in response, wincing. The sound was too similar to the echoes in her dreams. 

“I-I’m okay, I’m f-fine,” she said to the window, trying to reassure Casita, but each attempt was more a sob than a sentence. She repeated it until she could say it more steadily.  “I-I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.” 

It had been a while since she’d had this dream, and the shaky aftermath wasn’t entirely unfamiliar…but tonight was different. Tonight, she’d been holding Antonio. Not the candle, not the miracle—instead, her sweet, beautiful primo lay lifeless in her arms. All her fault.

It had felt so very real. She could still feel the ache from the thundering cracks in her ear drums; her throat felt dry with the layers of dust. She could still feel the weight of him in her arms. He was so heavy. 

She wanted nothing more in that moment than to race to Antonio’s room and see him with her own eyes, hug him, touch his face, kiss his cheeks, reassure herself that he was in fact safe and well and…and…alive. She needed to touch him, to feel his realness and his solidness in order to convince herself that the dream was not. 

She sniffed as a new round of tears escaped down her face. She wiped them away roughly. She was not going to do that. 

Antonio is fine. She knew that, she did, and she wasn’t going to wake him up and scare him just because she was terrified from a nightmare, like a child.

…still though. Her room still felt too stuffy, the walls too close, and her chest was tight with lingering fear. Every little noise of Casita moving around her, each grate and grind and creak, set her heart thundering anew as if it was just the start of something worse to come. No matter what that reasonable part of herself tried to say, her body continued to feel as though her world was crashing down around her all over again, and no matter how tightly she held herself, she still felt like she was falling apart.

She needed air, needed to move. She flung her blankets aside and hurried to her door, not bothering to grab the shoes that Casita jostled toward her.  The door swung open without her having to touch it, and she ran forward until she reached the railing of the upper balcony, leaning her stomach against the turquoise wood to press all the air out of her lungs. She gripped the railing until her knuckles turned white, digging her nails into the wood and shutting her eyes, taking in a big gulp of fresh air and letting it out in a silent, hitched flow. 

I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m…

“Mirabel?” 

She stiffened, her eyes shooting wide open at the unexpected sound. It took her a moment to see where it had come from, and it was so quiet she almost wasn’t sure she’d heard it at all. Across the house from her, near the darkened right corner of the hall by the stairs, stood a slightly hunched, shadowed figure. It was blurred—she had forgotten her glasses as she rushed from her room—but she could tell by the swishing edges of the silhouette that it was draped in green fabric, and it was then that her mind connected the voice with its owner. Tío Bruno. 

He was hovering like a shadow at the bottom of the stairs to his tower, and she couldn't tell if he'd been heading down or up them. She hesitated for a moment, frozen in the unexpectedness of encountering anyone in the middle of the night, and then suddenly took off without thinking, padding on bare feet around the hall, nearly knocking them both down as she collided with him and wrapped her shaky arms around his middle. He grunted on impact, but quickly recovered, bringing his hands up to her shoulders to try to pull her away enough to look at her. 

“Mira–Mirabel, what’s wrong? A-are you hurt? Should I–should I get Julieta? Where–”

He was frantically looking her up and down, looking for some kind of physical injury. She felt his grip tighten on her shoulders when his worried eyes finally reached her face. 

“...Mirabel?” He searched her face, his expression falling at whatever he saw there. The honest concern in his voice squeezed at her heart, and she felt tears begin to escape down her cheeks again. A panicked look gripped his face, and he jumped to pull her back in, wrapping his arms around her and carefully tightening his embrace. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered. She buried her face in his shoulder, as much to hide her embarrassment as for comfort, and he leaned his head on hers, rubbing her back tentatively with one hand. She tensed her shoulders, willing herself to hold back the sob that threatened to break free, and in response she felt his posture soften with his words. “Ah, Mira. You’re okay, mija,” he murmured. “You’re okay. You’re okay. I-I've got you, kid. You're okay."

It was so silly. This was all so ridiculous, running to her Tío after a nightmare like she was six and not sixteen. It was absurd. But she couldn’t let go. He was real—he was real and tangible, and his hand was warm on her back, and his scratchy voice was comforting and kind, and he was okay. He was okay. He wasn’t buried in rubble, wasn’t lost forever. And the more she hugged him and let him hug her back, the more her terrible dream started to fade back into obscurity. 

They stood there in the hallway for a good long while, his muttered assurances eventually falling silent but his arms around her never loosening. His shoulder was gritty, his clothing dusted with particles of sand that she could feel sticking to her face and eyelashes. Had he just had a vision? The reasonable part of her brain slowly started to regain control. She realized she was gripping the back of his ruana with tight fists, and slowly made herself release them. Her breathing had evened out, and she took one last deep, shaking breath before slowly stepping back from him, her face down, unable to meet his eyes. She wiped shamefully at her face and nose—geez, she was a mess. He kept a heavy hand on her shoulder. 

When she didn’t speak, he broke the silence, his voice taut and just a little too high. 

“You know what? I-I could use some tea. Yeah, let’s…let’s go make some hierbabuena, okay?” 

She sniffed and nodded in quiet acceptance, letting him put his arm around her shoulders and steer them both to the stairs. 

—

He led her to one of the stools that stood at the butcher block island in the center of the kitchen. She scooted onto it and leaned her elbows onto the wooden counter, wrapping her arms around herself in a pitiful hug. Though the night was temperate and the air still, she suddenly felt oddly cold now that Tío Bruno had removed his arm from around her shoulders. 

Bruno paused and looked at her helplessly, his fingers twitching anxiously in front of him. He suddenly began glancing abstractly around himself, his brow bunched in concern like he was trying to find something, patting his torso as if searching nonexistent pockets. After a moment of tight-lipped thought, he seemed to reach some sort of silent conclusion and clumsily shrugged himself out of the ruana, sending a quiet hiss of sand raining to the floor. Bruno grimaced at Julieta’s no-longer-spotless kitchen tiles, but then shrugged dismissively and turned to dump the unwieldy fabric unceremoniously over Mirabel, pulling carefully at it until her head popped through the ruana’s neck hole. She let out a weak laugh and pulled the fabric closer around herself.

“Thanks,” she said softly. He nodded at her, satisfied that she would no longer freeze in the warm night air, and turned away to set water to boil in the kettle. A tinkle of metal pulled her attention down to her feet, where Casita was delicately bouncing her glasses back and forth with the kitchen tiles. 

"Thank you," she whispered again, her voice dampened with tight-throated chagrin. She'd been so ridiculously panicked, she hadn't even thought to get them. The quiet calm of the kitchen now felt painfully damning to her previous behavior. She sighed as she slid them on her nose and blinked into clarity.

She glanced down at the mass of fabric bunched across her. The moss green ruana hung much too big on her, but it probably fit her about as well as it fit Tío Bruno. Tiny maroon mice trailed down the front—it was one of the first she'd embroidered for him. She ran her finger over one of the mice, absentmindedly appraising her work. Not bad, the stitches were still tight and unbunched. The lengths of green fabric hung heavily from her shoulders, and she thought she could perhaps see why Bruno liked to wear it so much. With her arms tucked inside, it felt like being wrapped in a blanket. The weight was comforting. 

She looked over at her tío now, where he moved about his task in jerky, uncertain movements. Casita was nudging him through the tea making process with patiently tilting tiles. He'd retrieved the kettle and was shifting from foot to foot with it in his hands before suddenly jumping to fill it in the already-running sink, as if he needed a moment to remember the next step. She couldn't be sure, with his back turned to her, but he seemed particularly nervous. Probably from the undignified display she'd just put on upstairs. She winced.

Poor Tío. 

She was thankful, though, for her sweet, strange tío. She considered him carefully, watching him move about the kitchen to grab the tetera and tea leaves, looking even slighter than usual in just his pajamas and bare feet. She blew air out her nose in mild amusement as he rose up on tip-toes in order to reach the cups. It had only been a year and a half since his return and she was already gaining on him in height. She’d likely be taller than him by this time next year, a fact not helped at all by his tendency to hunch in on himself all the time. 

He muttered and waved a dismissive hand at Casita, who was now tipping the tiles under his feet to keep the hem of his nightshirt from catching on the small flame under the kettle. 

Tío Bruno’s return had brought something new to her life that Mirabel didn’t know she’d needed—someone who understood her without looking down on her. Someone closer to…an ally, maybe. 

She'd always had her parents of course, and she knew without a doubt that they loved her deeply. But Mamá, for all her adoration and assurances, had always tried to make up for Mirabel's deficits. Her well-meaning, constant fussing only confirmed in Mirabel's mind that her mother saw something lacking in her as well, something that couldn’t be fixed. 

Pa was less overbearing in his love, but he still didn’t quite get it. He’d always tried to relate to her on the basis of their shared giftlessness, but he’d never been expected to have a gift. He didn’t understand that it was just different for his disappointment of a daughter. And so, though she had always been surrounded by a family she knew loved her more than anything in the world, she’d always felt…alone. 

But Tío Bruno was different. Tío Bruno knew what it meant to live on the sidelines of a fantastic family, to be missing that unnamable something that made fitting in a natural thing. And so, though she’d always had a lively Tío Felix who could teach her to dance and make her laugh, and a goofy Pa who excelled at distracting her when things got hard, she realized that she now had something she hadn’t known she was missing. Now she had a Tío Bruno—an uncle who truly saw her and cared for her, but who was also…a friend. 

Maybe she was just feeling overly sentimental because, you know, she’d just dreamed her entire family was dead and it was ENTIRELY all her fault…but she was suddenly just incredibly thankful. She was thankful it was Tío Bruno who’d stumbled across her, of all the ten other family members that could have witnessed her display of childish weakness. She was thankful to be sharing midnight tea with this uncle-friend who she somehow felt closer to than any of the family she’d known her whole life. And as she settled into the quiet of the empty kitchen, her jittery nerves slowly calming and her racing heartbeat evening out, she was thankful that—though she was perfectly capable of doing so—she wasn’t going to have to face the night alone. 

Tío Bruno carried the over-filled tea cups carefully to the table, setting them both down as soon as his outstretched arms could reach the edge of the wood. Once they were securely on the stable surface, he pushed one in front of her and settled in front of the other. He blew over the surface of the tea as he fidgeted into a more comfortable position on the stool beside hers. 

“Hey,” she said, wrapping her fingers around the warm cup and staring into its depths. “I’m, um, I’m glad you’re here.”

He looked up at her with a sad smile, his face still more worried than anything else…or, panicked, perhaps that was carefully managed panic in his eyes. 

“O-of course, kid, I wasn’t going to leave you like…um, like that.” He winced and nodded his head in the direction of the balcony, indicating the location of her breakdown. 

She grimaced. Yes, thank you, Tío. 

“I know, I just…I meant in general. I’m just glad you’re…here.”

He stared at her with his too-wide eyes. What fear lingered in his expression slowly melted, and he looked for a moment like he wanted nothing more than to hug her as tight as he could. He reached out a hand toward hers, but hesitated, settling for patting her forearm awkwardly instead. He held in a breath, shoring up his emotions into something more manageable perhaps, before giving her a small, grateful smile, filled with genuine, unguarded affection. 

“Yeah, me too, kid. More than you know.” 

She could feel the tears welling up again, all the emotions of her dream still too close to the surface. She looked away and blinked to dispel the tears, taking a sip of her scalding tea to hide them further. 

“So,” Tío Bruno said carefully, “so, you, uh, want to tell me what happened?”

Mirabel tensed and took another sip of her tea. 

No, she thought. No I most definitely do not. I want to pretend it never happened and then maybe it will be true…

“Um,” she tried, but the words got stuck in her throat. She took another sip. Bruno waited. “I, um,…I had a…bad…dream.” She cringed. Oh, the shame. She even sounded like a child. 

“Must have been a doozy,” he replied gently. 

She nodded without looking at him. 

“Do you, uh, want to tell me about it? I-I’ve heard that sometimes it can help to tell someone about it…makes it seem less scary when you say it out loud. It, I dunno, it takes away its power over you, or something like that. Now, I don’t know if that’s all true, a-a-and I know I’m not your ma or pa, but, I-I can still, you know, listen. I can always listen, when you, when you need it.” 

She looked up at him then, and something in the way he glanced nervously at her and away again chased away some of her embarrassment. This was Tío Bruno she was talking to—he had absolutely no motive to judge her. And maybe it would feel better for someone to know. She’d never told anyone. Maybe that was why the dream never went completely away. 

A long silence stretched between them. After a moment, Tío Bruno held up a pausing finger, interrupting her indecisive, circling thoughts. With one swift flourish, he reached out and pulled the hood of the borrowed ruana up and over her head. 

“There,” he said, matter of factly. “Now you, you don’t have to be afraid of anything.” 

She smiled weakly at him from under the hood, and he turned back to his tea, waiting quietly for her to find her courage. She tried to channel the dauntless spirit of Hernando. 

“It...was about Casita,” she whispered finally, so quietly that Bruno had to lean toward her to hear. “About when…it fell.” 

She could see him stiffen out of the corner of her eye, but he didn’t say anything. 

“Everyone was…gone.” The tears pushed back at her eyes again, but she held them in. 

I'm scared of nothing. 

“I-it was all my fault. I tried, I really did—but I’d lost all of you a-and Toñito…I…I couldn’t save anyone. I was too late.” 

She bit at her lip, unable to look away from the cup in her hands. Beside her, Tío Bruno knocked rapidly on the wood of the table, sending miniature rippling shock waves resonating through the surface of her tea. 

“That’s…that really is a doozy, kid.” 

She nodded. 

“Have…have you had that dream before?”

She hesitated, then nodded again. 

“How many times?” he whispered. 

She opened her mouth, but then closed it again without answering. 

She used to have the dream almost every night, in those first couple months after Casita fell. Thankfully, the well-earned fatigue that dragged her into bed after a day of building and working would sometimes lead her into a dreamless sleep. But if she did dream, it was of Casita falling. The details would change, the order of events shift, but key elements remained–her home lost, her family lost, the fault squarely resting on her shoulders. 

She thought moving back into the finished home would help, and it had, a little. The dream would only come to haunt her maybe once a week, surprising her just as she’d been lulled into a false sense of security by several nights of its absence. 

Now, though, she rarely had the dream. Once a month, twice at the most. But when she did have it, she had a hard time shaking it. She’d sometimes read or sew or just go for a walk around the balcony of Casita, taking deep breaths as she went and trying to focus on tiny details around her, like Luisa had once told her to do. Sometimes she could fall back asleep. She never wanted to, but sometimes she still could. 

But this time…with Toñito. It was different. That had never happened before.

“A lot, I guess,” she finally whispered back. 

“Ah, kid,” he said, his voice heavy. 

Mirabel took in a quick breath and picked up her tea, spinning the cup back and forth between her palms to dispel the sudden anxious energy in her arms. She drew up her shoulders, trying to pull back from the heaviness in her own chest.

“But not as much now!” she chirped, willing some levity into her voice. She pushed back the hood and sat up straighter. “Only once in a while now, so it’s getting better. Really, you don’t have to worry, Tío, I know…I know it’s just a dream.” 

She looked up at him with a smile, but it grew strained when she saw his face. His mouth was a tight, thin line, his brows pulled together, wholly unconvinced by her efforts. His eyes didn’t flit away from her this time. 

“You haven’t told anyone, have you.” It wasn’t a question. 

“I don’t need to, I’m fine, really.” 

“Mira, that—" he pointed a twitching finger toward the balcony "—that didn’t seem fine.”

“I’m fine,” she urged, her voice more pleading than confident. He continued to stare at her, his mouth tightening even more. She tilted her head up slightly and held his gaze, something in her feeling oddly defiant. He sighed and looked away, no match for her resolve. 

“Look, kid, I just, I want you to know—,” he paused, his words seemingly caught before they could come out. She raised her eyebrows at him expectantly, but he just pulled in his lips and then blew out a puff of air. 

Tío Bruno was never the best at getting his words out, especially when he was unsure, but she suddenly wondered if this had anything to do with the vision he refused to tell her about, and her stomach clenched just a little. 

Bruno growled softly in frustration and knocked out a pattern on the table, knock knock knock knock knock, ending with one exasperated knock to his head. Mirabel softened her expression and tried to wait patiently, just like he had for her just a moment before. She briefly considered giving him his ruana back, for reassurance, but then Bruno took a breath and tried again.

“I-I want you to know that you…you don’t have to be lonely. A-and if you are ever feeling lonely, just, just don’t be…anymore. You don’t have to. Yaknow—b-be lonely.”

Mirabel tensed at his words. “I’m not lonely,” she replied, a little too quickly. “I have everyone, la famila, Abuela, Mamá, Pa. I have you.”

“Good,” he nodded, though he seemed a bit dejected, as if he hadn’t quite made the point he wanted to. “I’m glad…I’m glad you know. That you’ve got everyone, because you do, you do, we’re all here for you, kid. I’m here for you.”

“I know,” she assured him, a bit confused. He was agitated, as if he still had something more to say. “I know, Tío. Really.”

Bruno sighed and looked down into his tepid tea, as if there was something in there was looking for. She glanced at him one last time before returning to her own tea, taking a longer drink now that the liquid had cooled. 

He was acting so strange, and if she thought about it, he had been for a while. He’d been overly cautious around her, worried and hovering. Sometimes she'd catch him looking at her like something about her made him incredibly sad. Sure, part of that could just be counted off as classic Tío Bruno but…something told her it wasn’t. 

It had to be the vision. It had all started then, that day back in the forest, months before.

She tightened her grip on her mug. It took all of her self control not to ask him about it. She knew he had boundaries that she had to respect when it came to his gift, she’d learned that the hard way. She knew that if she was supposed to know, he’d tell her. 

He’d tell her, right?

“Tío, if you have something you want to say, you can just say—”

“I thought you’d died,” he blurted out, far too loud. Mirabel set down her cup and looked at him, her breath held. Her stomach clenched even tighter and she suddenly felt the fear from her dream, almost completely gone, return in full force. Bruno was staring at the table, his hands gripping the cup in front of him so tightly she actually worried for a moment he might break it. 

“W-when Casita fell, last year. I-I got myself out, and then I looked back and I saw…I saw you. And then, and then, and then, the tower, my tower…Mirabel, I thought you’d been crushed, and it was all my fault. I’d sent you off to Isabela, and, and put this stupid idea in your head that all of this was somehow up to you to fix, and there you were, right where I’d sent you, like a coward, while I ran and hid. I—” 

He stopped and took in a sharp breath. 

"I always run and hide," he muttered through gritted teeth.

Mirabel was frozen to her seat. The fear that he was somehow talking about the vision was rapidly fading, replaced by a void of swirling incomprehensible thoughts. She’d never heard him talk about that day, that almost-forgotten moment when they'd locked eyes right before everything came crashing down around her. 

Tío Bruno looked up at her, his eyes pleading and pained. 

“Mira, I-I will never let that happen again. I-I will never send you off to go at it alone, when someone should be there with you—w-when I should be there with you.” 

As the initial shock of his words began to wear off, her chest began to burn fiercely. She had no idea why, but as she suddenly understood what he was trying to say, the feelings flooding her were so convoluted, rising all at once from some long ignored part of her heart, that it was absolutely overwhelming. She felt the tears start up again, but this time she couldn’t stop them from falling. 

Bruno cringed distressingly and reached out to grab a corner of the ruana, wiping at her face clumsily and smearing her cheeks with sand and tears. He put his hands on her shoulders, gripping her tightly. 

“You…you saved me, Mirabel. In so many ways. I don’t think you even know—” he shook his head, started again. “You don’t have to do everything alone anymore, okay? I won’t let that happen again. W-when I was a kid, I didn’t have a dad around to, you know, because…because…of, well, everything, so I always wished—I mean, I-I know what it's like to-to-to…A-AND I know you have a Pa! A wonderful, amazing Pa, and I-I don’t ever want to get in the way there—I mean…I-I’m not trying to—Urghf.” Bruno blew out a raspberry in frustration, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with a bright desperation, imploring. “Look, kid, I’m, I’m not the best, at-at well, at anything, but, but I’m here! And I’m not going anywhere, not this time. Whatever you need, okay? I’m…I’m here. Right here.” 

She nodded fervently and reached up to grip his forearms. As another wave of tears began to fall, she pulled him forward into a crushing hug, glasses pressing firm against her nose as she buried her face into the curve of his shoulder. He had to quickly drop down a foot to keep from falling off his stool, but he regained his balance and leaned wholeheartedly into the embrace. 

“Just, just promise me you won’t let yourself be alone, okay?” he whispered, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Don’t…don’t hide yourself away from everyone. You won’t gain a thing from that, really, b-believe me. I…well, I know.”

She nodded again into his nightshirt and gripped him even tighter.

 “Okay. I promise, Tío.” 

He hummed a relieved sound, putting a gentle hand to the back of her head and cradling it there for a moment. Then with one final squeeze, he let her go. 

As she sat back, he reached out and tucked a curl of her hair behind her ear, then patted her cheek gently. She smiled, surprised at the uncharacteristic gesture, but touched nonetheless. It reminded her of something Mamá would do.

With that, as suddenly as his vulnerable outburst had appeared, it was tucked nervously away. Tío Bruno fidgeted awkwardly in his seat and turned back to his cup, running his finger around the rim. Mirabel cleared her throat and swiped at her eyes, wiping away the last of the tears. He’d been right, about sharing her fear—she did feel…lighter, somehow. 

“So," she asked with a final sniff, "why were you down here in the middle of the night?” She suddenly perked up in realization. “Did–did you know I would…?”

“No, no,” he said, brushing away the idea with a wave of his hand. “I, uh, I have—I mean had, had a headache, and it was keeping me up, so I decided to get some fresh air. Worked out though, huh?"

"A headache? Tío are you avoiding your gift again?" The lingering thickness of her voice did nothing to soften the accusation.

"No! No, I…uh, well maybe, sort of yes."

"Why?" she cried out in exasperation. "You know what it does to you and—wait, is that what all that sand was from the other day? In your room? Is something happening with your gift?!"

"Ay, Ay, tranquila, mija, don't get all worked up again, alright?" he begged, wincing. "Please, no more crying." 

"I'm not crying." She groused, and she made a more concerted effort to swallow back the tears that were again pushing to the surface. She really did need to get a hold of herself. What was the matter with her?

"I am upset to hear that you're in pain for no good reason," she added grumpily, swiping again at her cheek. He frowned, his eyebrows drawing in mild offense.

"No good—a-alright, look, i-i-if you must know, Ms. Pushy,…yes, the sandy-ness you saw the other day was from…struggling…with my gift. I-I guess you could say I had a bad dream, too. A vision-dream. It's a whole thing, like a nightmare with a headache, covers my bed in sand. Bleh. Makes it impossible to get comfortable after, so, so, I was just…out. Getting some fresh air."

Mirabel watched him quietly. She didn't like the sound of that, not one bit. His room had been in total chaos when she'd seen it, and he'd looked just awful. A 'vision-dream' that caused that much mess must have been—to borrow Tío's words—a doozy. 

“Alright then," she challenged, "your turn. What was in your dream?”

Bruno sputtered into his tea. “Nah, nah, it was nothing,” he replied as he reburied his face in his cup. He managed to take a drink and then sighed. “Just a vision that really won’t quit, that’s all.”

Mirabel frowned. “That sounds like avoiding to me. And if you're getting headaches, too? I don't like this at all.”

"I'm not avoiding them. Not all the way, anyway. I'll have you know, I've been using my gift on purpose! In other ways. I’ve just seen enough of this one, particular vision, is all. I’ve seen it plenty. Maybe the miracle is on the fritz or something…or not! Or not. Um…sometimes this just, just happens. My old brain gets stuck on some future and doesn’t want to let go.” He knocked at his skull. “I’m okay, though, kid, really. It’s nothing disastrous, so I just…need to wait it out. Eh, iiit’ll go away.” He waved his hand beside his head as if he was chasing it away as they spoke. 

Mirabel hummed petulantly. “Well, you know your gift better than anyone, but…” she began, and he winced in anticipation of her unsolicited advice. 

She paused and carefully softened her voice. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“All I’m saying is that maybe you’re missing something. If the miracle won’t stop sending you this same vision…maybe you just need to look at it differently. You know, a new perspective.”

He nodded without looking at her. She sighed and dropped the subject. He would tell her if he needed her help. He knew the offer always stood. He knew he didn't have to be lonely, either.

Mirabel sighed at the bottom of her empty cup. She had no idea what time it was, but she did know it was seriously late. Tomorrow was quickly becoming today, and she was going to be exhausted. Despite his best intentions, Osvaldo was never an easy visit. She should really get some rest. 

“Well, then. It's late. I guess it’s time to go back to bed,” she stated dryly, and the knot in her stomach tightened at the thought. Though I’d really rather not, she added in a low murmur, more to the air than to anyone in particular. 

Bruno looked up and frowned at her as she grabbed his empty cup and took it with hers to the sink. The clink of the cups in the basin rang out with glum finality. 

“Then we won’t,” Bruno said suddenly, and she turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. He was staring at her as if he'd suddenly had some remarkable revelation about the whole situation.

“What?”

“You don’t want to go back to sleep…well, then we won’t.” 

“What?” she asked again. “That’s not a solution, Tío.”

“It’s not a good solution, but it is a solution.”

She laughed and shook her head. She couldn’t stay up all night, she’d already be useless enough as it was now. 

“Come on, why not?" he argued. "You got somewhere to be in the morning?”

She rolled her eyes at him. His usual half-joking argument. He was referring to their tradition of morning tea, but this time she did in fact have somewhere to be. She had to meet with Osvaldo to discuss the supplies for the surprise party, bright and early. A scheduling decision she was now regretting.

"Actually, I do. I have a…. meeting… at seven." Smooth, she thought, internally rolling her eyes.

"Well, that's what coffee is for, right?"

"Tío, it's like one in the morning," she replied. "You're crazy."

He scrambled up from his seat and rounded the kitchen island, pointing a finger high in the air. 

"Perhaps to be too practical is madness," he quoted grandly. She recognized that one. Don Quixote? She bit her lip. 

"Didn't he die in the end of that book?"

"Look, Mirabel, you've been making the responsible choice, what's best for everyone else, since you were five," he urged, his voice oddly serious. His words nudged at something tight in her heart. 

"Do what you want for once, instead of what you have to do," he continued more gently. "I'm your crazy uncle, I-I-I think…I think maybe I'm supposed to give you crazy advice like that. A-a new perspective." 

She fiddled with the edge of the ruana and mulled over his words. Do what you want. What did she want? She didn’t even know. She didn't want to go back to her dark and lonely room, that's for sure. Maybe she was just tired, but she somehow couldn't think of an argument to his unorthodox logic.

“Okay," she said reluctantly. "Okay. No sleeping. So then, oh wise uncle, what do we do instead?”

He scratched at his chin. "D'you like cards?"

—

"Sevens," Tío Bruno said. 

She squinted at her cards. "Uh…no. Go fish."

Tío Bruno leaned forward and glanced at the cards in her hand. She was sitting on the scratchy woven rug at his feet en la sala—an exercise in mild discomfort in an effort to keep herself awake. Her back was against his chair, so all he had to do was look down to get a full view of every single one of her cards…but they'd abandoned all reason long ago. They were on their third round of the game, and she was starting to lose her fight against fatigue. 

Bruno reached down and pulled a seven from her hand with more flourish than necessary, placing it in his own. 

"Oh, sorry," she muttered, stifling a yawn. "Didn't see it there."

"Mmmhmm, your turn."

"Um," she squinted at her cards again, leaning her head against his knee. "Nines?"

"Ve a pescar," he replied. Go fish. 

She could have sworn she instructed her hand to reach out and draw a card from the deck, but in groggy disorientation, she realized Bruno was instead carefully pulling all her cards from her slack grip and setting them on the table in front of her. She was clearly losing the battle against sleep.

"I-I'm awake," she slurred in protest. "Elevens." 

"Okay, kid," he laughed. "It was a valiant effort, but maybe it's time to head to bed."

"No! No sleep! Practical madness!" She swatted away his hand as it reached down to help her up and snuggled closer against his leg instead, pulling the warm, blanket-like ruana around her and adjusting her head more comfortably on his knee. "I just need to rest my eyes for, like, a minute …"

Stubbornly cocooned against the faulty wisdom of sleeping any length of time in her lean-to position on the floor, she let herself begin to drift off again. 

After a quiet minute of stillness, she felt Tío Bruno shift and carefully place his hand on her head, uncertainty evident in the tentative twitching of his fingers. She tipped her head back into his palm, managing to crack one sleep-blurred eye open just long enough to flash him a small smile. At that, his hand rested heavier against her hair, relaxing with obvious relief that she hadn't flinched or brush him away, like he probably expected.  

Mirabel was snug in the weight of the ruana, and Tío Bruno's heavy hand was like the safety of an anchor to shore, but she could still feel a dream lapping at the edge of her consciousness as the depths of sleep began to take hold. She pulled back from it warily, still tender from the nightmare. She frowned and squeezed her eyes tighter, trying feebly to clear her mind and shift away into dreamless rest instead. 

But then, quite unexpectedly, Bruno's scratchy voice began to murmur down to her, breaking through the shallow murk of her dozing sleep. She tensed involuntarily in surprise. 

Is he…singing? she thought groggily. He is singing…

She held as still as she could, willing herself awake to witness this strange boldness from her normally painfully timid Tío. As if on cue, Bruno seemed to hesitate, perhaps sensing her alertness. But then, ever so carefully, the hand on her head lifted and he slowly began to pull at strands of her hair, brushing them away from her face and tucking each gently behind her ear. He resumed the lullaby, a little louder this time.

The broken melody was slow and lilting, resonating and low. It reminded her of a hymn, but not any hymn she'd heard before. The words were not quite comprehensible in their soft murmur, but something about them held the shape of…hope, maybe, or solace. He was interspersing his scratchy singing with humming, as if he couldn’t quite remember all the words, but the effect was a soothing blend of sound that was tender and so genuinely loving in its imperfection.

As the moments passed, sweet and soft and safe, she found the tender combination of her Tío's voice and his hand brushing back her hair made it almost impossible to continue to resist the pull of sleep. Gradually, she let his lullaby ease her into a burdenless slumber, almost like she was six and not sixteen. Like…she half-realized before drifting off completely…like, perhaps, she’d long needed.

Read the rest of La Traes on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38318872/chapters/95750440

[gamerbearmira]

Poison Mirabel please

OMGGG❗❗ Haven't seen this AU in a MIN I got you 🥸

Lea get it

-----

The family had gathered downstairs, sitting down to finally eat breakfast. The only missing was Mirabel, who was upstairs still asleep. They hadn't all sat down together, not really. Most of them were too busy taking shifts and watching Mirabel, or doing some other task relating to her. They spent countless nights awake, worrying about the girl and her condition. It hadn't gotten any better.

The only reason they were sitting down together to eat was that Mirabel requested it. She said that her being sick shouldn't stop them from eating together. It took a lot of convincing and bribing to get Antonio out of the room as well. The boy was practically attached to Mirabel, and he wouldn't leave her room for much. Getting him to take a bath was like fighting a war, and he always kept an animal in the room with her, even in the rare cases he wasn't there.

The breakfast was...tense. Awkward almost. It wasn't because of anything anyone said or did, it was just that everyone was so worried about Mirabel. It was so strange for her not to be at the table. And after the argument that happened before, frankly, a few family members were a bit more uncomfortable or worried. Not that said family members would openly admit it.

Upstairs, Mirabel wobbled around the nursery, trying to be as quiet as possible. She lazily pulled her shirt over her head and pull her skirt up. She grabbed her hairbrush and attempted ---keyword 'attempted'---at brushing her hair, but she quickly gave up after her arm gave out only 3 counts in. She slid into her shoes, and hobbled towards the door, Parce momentarily stopped her, nudging his muzzle at her legs.

"Shhhhhhh," Mirabel said, giggling a bit, covering a cough. "I'm gonna surprise them," she whispered, trying not to alert Dolores (the woman didn't even hear her though, as she was too focused on something else). The jaguar gave an upset growl but moved out of the way. Mirabel opened the door, walking towards the railing and holding onto it. She could barely walk, her stomach sort of hurt, and honestly, her head was pounding, but it didn't seem to stop her.

Mirabel was slow. Really slow. She dragged her feet, having to stop every so often to catch her breath, especially when she got to the stairs. Eventually, she made it downstairs and used the wall as a crutch so she could get to the dining room. Once she was in there, her family finally caught a glimpse of her, a couple gasping.

"I'm here---for breakfast," Mirabel said, smiling as she tried to stand straight and catch her breath. Her legs were about to give out, to be honest. The family stared at her and she didn't move; she just kept smiling, it was like she wasn't even aware of what she was doing for a moment. She failed to notice how Isabela and Dolores immediately looked away, avoiding eye contact, or looking at her entirety.

"Mira, your shirt is backward, and your skirt is inside out," Julieta said sadly while standing up and Mirabel pulled a face.

"Whaaaaat?" She said, and she looked down. What her mother said was true. Mirabel waved a hand. "Pfft no biggie."

"And you have two different shoes on," Luisa pointed out, walking over to Mirabel. The girl shook her head.

"Nu-uh," she said and she tried to fight Luisa picking her up, but quickly gave up when she realized her limbs were still aching.

"You need to lay back down, you aren't well," Julieta frowned, and she tried to hand Mirabel some food, but the girl turned her head. She didn't want to eat, she just wanted to come downstairs to sit with her family. She might've been sick and unable to move without being in pain, but she didn't want that to stop her from spending time with her family. Even if they just saw the 10-year missing vision and watched her fall to the floor covered in blood (according to eyewitnesses).

"But-"

"No buts. Come on," Julieta said, guiding her second and third daughters back to Mirabel's bed. The family watched them walk off, a couple of them releasing a breath they didn't know they were holding. Pepa waved away her cloud, muttering 'clear skies' under her breath while Felíx comforted her.

They were hoping that if Mirabel did come down, she would be better. But she looked worse. Way worse. She was completely flushed and sweating like crazy. And clearly, she wasn't cognitive enough to even put her clothes on right. What had even gotten her so sick? She was completely fine one minute, then the next she looked like death. She hadn't been that sick since she was a toddler, before her ceremony almost. Coughs that rattled her ribs, and her heart almost seemed to stutter while she was in constant pain. But even then, she had never been this sick before. It was terrifying seeing her like that again.

In Mirabel's attempt to make her family feel better, she only made them even more worried and scared.

-----

POOR MIRA <\\\\33 she hasn't gotten any better (T⌓T) that girl needs to lay down somewhere or she's never gonna get better.

I missed this AU, this was fun to write and draw <333

[achitka]

Chapter 30: Perfectamente Imperfecta

Chapter 31 here

Summary:

Isabela wants something she thinks is no longer possible…makes for a long morning. I do not recommend self harm as a way of dealing with issues. Though I do understand why it happens. I say this as someone who once lived in a very dark world…It will get better. Might take longer than you want, but there's always light, even if it's one star a billion miles away.

Perfectamente Imperfecta

(Perfectly Imperfect)

Dolores finished her breakfast quickly and left the table to go to Mirabel’s room. She probably should have asked first, but Mirabel was busy looking after Paola and she did tell her mother what she was about, so Dolores hoped Mirabel wouldn’t mind. Keeping track of the people in the mountains was far more interesting to her and a better use of her time. In fact, she honestly thought this was the happiest she ever felt about having this magical ability.

After last night, Dolores noticed Casita had improved the map. More areas showed either rocks or trees. The larger group had halted near a previously unknown river. It made Dolores wonder how Doris and Inez had gotten the children across it. Dolores looked at the group of children, they were still pretty deep in the forested area and were nowhere near the place Camilo had returned to Casita from.

She was watching three separate sets of lights now. The larger group, which had been camped by the river, came into view just after breakfast. She had been watching for them since Antonio came to her to tell her Tina the owl had returned and said they took down the houses. She assumed that meant they’d broken camp and were on the move. She had managed to have Casita label the leader, whose head now floated near the front of a line of dimly glowing lights. She guessed there were a total of twenty-five. Fernando was easy enough to spot since he was by himself, and Casita labeled that light as well. He did not appear to be following the women, he was instead skirting the larger group. Doris and Inez had at least five additional children with them. Most were likely younger than Paola, since their heart rates were faster than hers. Only the women ever spoke. The children, aside from an occasional cough or whine, said nothing.

Dolores let out a squeak when she heard:

Isabela (Let me help.)

Mirabel (sigh)

Isabela (Our family, was given a miracle. Or more rightly, our Abuela was given a miracle. This was passed on to us…we were each given a magical Gift to help the people of our community. I can grow, literally anything.)

There was a popping sound and everyone else went silent

Mirabel (Are you trying to frighten her?)

Isabela (I do not think a small cactus is frightening… See it’s beautiful.)

Mirabel (Then why grow it under her nose?)

Isabela (Why not?)

Tiles clattered and Mirabel snapped (Stop it Casita. I don’t need any help.)

More angry tiles rattled, there was a pause then Mirabel (I’m sorry, Issa, I keep forgetting.)

After a short silence, someone got up. Isabela said (No, I shouldn’t have done that. I am sorry, Paola. I really did not mean to frighten you. Please accept this as part of my apology, it will match your pretty ribbon.) another short silence (I’m going up to my room to get ready for the meeting.)

Abuela said nothing during all of this, but her heart rate had gone up and though Isabela had sworn her to secrecy, Dolores was really concerned about her prima. That was why she told their Abuela the things Isabela had told her. Those scratches on her arms were showing up more and more frequently. Never too deep and at first, there were only a few, but by the end of last night and though she tried to hide them, even Antonio had noticed. He whispered his question to her when Issa had gone to the other side of the room when Abuela came in. She hoped she had reassured him, but the way he and Camilo were talking during breakfast made her wonder. It had also made her more aware of how stressed Isabela’s voice sounded.

Last night, when Mirabel was dealing with whatever had happened in her room, Issa seemed genuinely worried about Mirabel’s fear. Today she sounded like the old Issa, the one that was jealous of and pretended to dislike her little sister. Dolores wondered if that was what the real problem was. Isabela, Dolores knew, actually liked being the center of attention. It had been trained into her for almost twenty years. Now that their roles were switched and Mirabel was the focus, Isabela was not sure how or where she fit into things or even if she wanted to. Once Casita was finished, she confided, she planned to leave the Encanto and travel the world. Dolores had thought that would be wonderful and with Luisa planning to leave and become a vet, she needed someone to point her in some direction. But what she really needed was for their Abuela to apologize and accept her as she was.

Camilo appeared shortly thereafter but said nothing about the almost argument Issa and Mira had had. He said he was there to get a good look at the map. Like Mirabel, he poked at the floating heads and seemed surprised that he could not hear them. He was curious where he had actually been last night, and Casita did something neither were expecting. It recreated the route he took the night before. It appeared as a lightly glowing line, but thankfully this only took a few minutes, not the actual hours it took last night. While they watched, she asked if he was going to the meeting. He said no, since he did not feel he had completely recovered from his excursion the previous day. He left shortly thereafter to go eat second breakfast and start studying the books given to him by the headmaster at the school. It was weird, she thought, her bothersome little brother was going to be a teacher.

Dolores had had no specific requests either, or rather, no one really wanted her to be listening in on their conversations. If they did, it was mostly petty nonsense, so no loss there. Mariano was going to be at the meeting because his mother was on the council. He did promise to let her know if she should listen in. Sylvia Guzman, Dolores knew, wanted Mariano to take her place on the council one day. He was less than enthusiastic about that, but being a dutiful son, he went. Dolores thought he would actually be excellent at that, he was intelligent, charismatic and very well thought of. She had told him everything she knew about the mountain travelers while he was having breakfast with his mother. He tapped his fork on his plate twice, and Dolores stopped talking. They’d worked out that signal to let her know the other was listening to whomever was in front of them.

She was waiting somewhat impatiently for him to respond to his mother’s last question when she heard.

Tío Agustín (Mirabel, there’s something you need to know about Paola.)

Mirabel (Oh?)

Tía Julieta (Paola is a boy.)

Mirabel (What? But why would…)

Tía Julieta (I’m sure ‘she’ has her reasons, Corazón. They’ve clearly been through a lot, so I’m going to get the ‘girl’ clothes as she requested. If that is what it takes for her to be comfortable, then so be it.)

Tío Agustín (We just did not want you to find out in an awkward way.)

Dolores looked over at the label that Casita had assigned to Paola. It showed the smiling face of a little girl wearing a flower crown in her hair. Dolores hoped no one would make a big deal about it and she most certainly wasn’t going to mention it. There were others in town who did similar things, and she was thankful her Abuela had never asked her to listen for them. She knew about them, especially those that would pray so fervently to the Virgin for peace and for answers as to why they felt the way they did.

When she was younger, and less able to shut out voices, it always made her sad to the point that either her mother would take her with her to the fields and let the thunder roll or her father would take her out to the woods. Far enough away that she could relax. He was the one that built the little shed she’d taken Mariano to.

She recalled another that would dress as a man but her memories of him were few, but she recalled he was a small man with a thin mustache. He was good friends with her Tío Bruno and his name was Jorge Rodriguez. For almost thirty years Jorge lived alone at the edge of town and made the most beautiful women’s shoes in the Encanto. Even though this was considered women’s work, everyone had at least one pair of his shoes.

When he died, unexpectedly, and it was discovered they were not a man, it caused quite the uproar. Because of her Gift, she heard it all and the days that followed were just horrible for her as the more spiteful folks wanted to put him in a dress to be buried, as God intended. Others were somewhat kinder about it but seemed to hold the same opinion about the dress. And most said less than generous things about Jorge’s reasons for doing it. She learned a lot of words no eight-year-old should know. However, because Jorge Rodriguez had no family in the Encanto, her Tío asked Abuela if they could oversee the funeral arrangements. Abuela agreed but the folks who showed up to see how the body was dressed were disappointed to find her Abuela also insisted that the casket remained closed.

There were only a few other people in the church besides the Madrigals. Dolores was sitting with her family at the front of the church, and she heard Isabela ask Tío Bruno, “Do you think God will be mad at us for not letting the people say goodbye to him?”

Her Tío put an arm around her and said, “No. I don’t think most of those people outside came to say goodbye to Jorge. Considering they never had a kind thing to say about Señor Rodriguez when he was alive.”

“Oh…Tío why would they want to put Jorge in a dress?” Isa asked in a whisper and Tía Julieta, who sitting next to them rubbed her forehead.

Her Tío just said, “Just remember to always be yourself, don’t let anyone tell you different.”

People outside the church were gossiping up a storm and Dolores whimpered as she crawled into her father’s lap and pushed her head into his chest. She closed her eyes and listened to his heart beat as he covered her other ear with his hand and began to hum. It filled her whole head as she relaxed and at some point, fell asleep.

Mariano (Dolores, mi vida)

Dolores started and looked at the town for Mariano’s light. It was no longer in his house but on the street in front of it.  She touched it lightly saying “Yes, Mariano?

Mariano (We are leaving for the meeting now.)

“Alright.”

-----------------------

Isabela walked into her room and almost turned and walked back out. She examined all the scratches on her arm and frowned. She was finding it more and more difficult to control some aspects of her Gift. Or, more rightly, aspects of her anger. What happened during breakfast highlighted that major flaw to everyone in her family. The fact that she still wanted and needed her Abuela’s approval irked her, and she saw now she was yet again trying to use Mirabel to get it, and not in a good way. She thought she was past all that. Her Abuela’s non-reaction to it all, not only made her feel foolish, worse she had acted childish. She knew Mirabel really was the one best suited to take over for Abuela one day. Isabela did not want that job, in the same way she did not want to be tied to a man she did not love. Then why did she frighten a small child in an attempt to embarrass her sister? Why would Abuela want her to go early to that meeting? Mirabel was the one…Her thoughts were interrupted when there was a gentle tap on her door, and Luisa slipped in and closed it behind her. Isabela braced herself and turned toward her sister. But there was no anger in Luisa’s expression, just concern. This annoyed Isabela even more than the potential confrontation, and she snapped, “What do you want?”

Luisa did not respond, but her eyes flicked to the thorns as they made new scratches on her arms. Isabela belatedly tried to hide them behind her. She forced the thorns that had popped out to retract, and Luisa asked, “Are you okay, Issa? I’m sure I’m not the only one to notice those cuts.”

“Well, that’s nobody’s business but mine,” Isabela said flatly.

Luisa made no reply and in the past, this would have been enough for her sister to leave her be, but Luisa continued to stand there looking around. Isabela felt her jaw clench, and she said, “You still haven’t said what you wanted.”

 “I do not actually want anything, Issa. I’m just worried about you.”

Shortly after the breaking, they had moved from the church to Abuelo Joseph’s house. The three sisters shared a room and at first, it was weird. There was nowhere to hide or just be by yourself unless you left the house. Not wanting to deal with the townsfolk and their pity. They remained at the house when they were not working on Casita. They did at least have their own beds. This had led to many late night talks about what they wanted to do in the future. New things they wanted to try. Isabela even found a kindred spirit in her Abuela Valentina who encouraged her to learn all she could about the plants she was growing in her garden behind the house.

At Isabela’s insistence, the sisters also made a promise to one another to make sure they paid attention to how they were feeling. To not look away but try to help if they could. She glanced back at Luisa who was still looking around and Isabela realized she was picking a fight with her sister to try to push her away. Luisa, however, wasn’t budging, and Isabela closed her eyes as she let her arms drop to her sides. She sighed and said, “I’m fine really, just a little confused, I guess.”

“So, is this actual fine,” and Luisa paused and said, “or…Madrigal fine…”

Isabela gave a snort and frowned. Madrigal fine is what they’d taken to calling their state of mind before the breaking when they didn’t want to face a problem. She wanted to believe she’d done a good job of letting go of old habits, but she knew in her heart, she was still stuck. In a lot of ways, she was still unwilling to believe in herself or that she could ever be more than she was before the house fell. Often she would pretend to ignore Mirabel when their sister offered a suggestion on how she could improve whatever it was she was trying to work through.

“Ah, so, Madrigal fine,” Luisa said with a nod. “I know I’ve already said this Issa, but maybe you should try talking to her,” Luisa said this carefully, but Isabela knew who she meant. “She’s not the same as before, and I mean I did not think talking would make anything better either. I was wrong and since the magic’s come back you’ve been, well, there’s no good way to put this, you’re being downright mean to Abuela. I mean, I get it, but don’t you think you’re going a little overboard with that? And why start picking at Mirabel? I thought you wanted this for her. You said you were happy you weren’t required to be Señorita Perfecta anymore.” When Isabela still did not answer, Luisa idly kicked at the flagstones waiting, but then said in disbelief, “Oh Dios Mio…you are jealous.”

The conviction in Luisa’s voice made Isabela immediately snap back, “I most certainly am not! How can you even think that?” Isabela shouted as she threw up her hands in exasperation. A wall of vines erupted between them and Isabela cringed, she had not actually meant to do that. Still Luisa pushed them aside with no effort.

She stood in front of Isabela with her hands on her hips and said, “Really?” Her tone was calm and while she was a very patient person, eventually even she would get angry if you pushed hard enough. Now Luisa was waiting. Waiting for Isabela to repeat the lie. Her look was telling, and Isabela looked again at the thorns that were once again evident. Again, she forced them to retract, but was finding this harder to do with each incident.

Luisa noticed her struggle and her face softened, and she hugged her sister as she said, “We can talk about that later, and we will talk about that later.” Luisa let her go and after a brief awkward silence asked, “So, why do you think Abuela wants you to go to the meeting early?”

Isabela, grateful for the change of topic, replied, “Don’t know, the first I heard about it was when she asked me at breakfast. Maybe it was because she used to take me to those things…most boring thing she ever asked me to do.”

Luisa nodded, but from her expression she must have a few ideas, but instead asked, “Have you made any decisions about what jobs you’re going to take?”

“Probably all of them. Most of them are pretty simple flower arrangements. Nothing challenging, for sure, so none of them will be difficult. What about you?”

“I do not know. Likely just the ones related to the windmill project and the ones requested by the elderly. Everything else are things they can either do themselves or, based on what Antonio said, shouldn’t be done at all. I also wasn’t expecting so many issues with my Gift, hopefully, my stamina will improve quickly.”

“You know, maybe it’s a sign you should focus more on being a vet. I mean, if you can get to Bogotá by going through that door in the tower, possibly you can do a little of both.”

“Gosh, I really hope so,” Luisa said wistfully.

Issa smiled at her sister’s tone. Luisa’s goals were something of which she was envious. Isabela had no goals, no plans for the future. Everything she had been told she was good for, had turned out to be a lie. There was another knock and Casita opened the door and Isabela was not pleased to see it was her Abuela. She did not just come in as she would have in the past. She waited and Issa just stared until Luisa nudged her from behind. “Come in, Abuela,” Isabela finally said.

She did and Luisa went to excuse herself, but her Abuela asked her to stay, since what she had to say concerned them both. The two sisters looked nervously at one another and sat on the bed. Isabela filled in her vine sleeve with leaves to hide the newer scratches, that were bleeding a little. Casita pushed the desk chair over and Abuela sat down.

Isabela was staring past her Abuela, refusing to look her in the face. She waited for the scolding she was sure was coming, but why pull Luisa into it. She had not done anything. Probably going to convince her she needed to do more training to improve her Gift.

Her Abuela did not speak right away, instead she was watching Isabela, and this only served to make Isabela angry. After a few moments, her Abuela turned to Luisa and said, “To start, Luisa, now that we know that the red door in the tower does, in fact, go to Bogotá, I’m hopeful we’ll be able to get you registered for school as soon as possible. Though the coming and going through the Church may prove to be a problem.”

Luisa smiled despite her obvious concern. She had already gotten her hopes up once, only to have them crushed.

“However,” her Abuela continued, “that leads to the bigger issue, finding a place for you to live if there are no dormitories for women. That’s where I was hoping you would come into this, Isabela. There was, and possibly still is, a botany program at the college. I know you have an interest in such things, that way your sister would not be in a strange city by herself. The world has changed so much on the outside, from what we’ve learned from the newcomers, that it would be advantageous for both of you. I used to have family in Bogotá, of course I do not know if they still live there, but I am willing to find out if it helps get you both where you need to be. I have not spoken with your parents about this yet, though I am hopeful that the both of you will be able to take advantage of this once we’ve dealt with the current situation.”

Isabela was confused. None of what her Abuela just said had anything to do with their Gifts. Maybe Luisa was right about the change and though she saw the logic of them both going, she was struck by a nasty thought and could not stop it coming out of her mouth. “You aren’t just trying to get me away from Mirabel, right?”

Her Abuela looked surprised at the question, but after a moment she said firmly, “No, but I do understand your concerns, Isabela.”

“Then what about that door in Mirabel’s room? Why did you ask for that? Is it, so you can watch her all the time? Keep her in line?”

Her Abuela listened to each question but did not interrupt and said when Issa stopped, “I did not request that door, and it took me a few days to puzzle out its purpose. I was told recently that it was your mother who did. It appears she also has similar concerns,” her Abuela said with a small smile. “Nevertheless, it has turned out to be a blessing I was not looking for, and it is helping me make better decisions to make sure nothing like that happens.”

“I am gonna go now,” Luisa said. Alma nodded, and Luisa started for the door. “We can talk about the other stuff later.”

Isabela did not respond, so Luisa stepped out. Isabela really did not want to have this talk with her Abuela. Better to be angry, but the longer she put it off, the worse she felt about all the mean things she had done of late. She did not fully understand how her sister was so easily able to forgive the many sins of Alma Madrigal. She did not quite understand why she, herself, wanted to be able to, too. She was no longer sure of her motivations, and again felt the pain of the thorns in her arms. She closed her eyes, forcing them back with the tears that threatened to come tumbling out.

She felt her Abuela move next to her on the bed, and Isabela felt a gentle hand on her arm. The leaves she grew to cover the scratches wilted and Abuela said softly, “Isabela, I see the harm that I’ve caused by trying to live a dream I lost through you. I can only apologize for the past and I know I cannot change it, but most importantly I want you to know that I have never seen you as a failure, mi vida. Before and most especially, not after the breaking. You are as precious to me now as ever, and I know why Mirabel relies on you. She sees you more clearly than I. My reason for asking you to come early is because you are more experienced with the townsfolk than your hermanita. I know you will be able to help guide her better than I.”

Isabela did not respond or open her eyes. She just couldn’t look at her Abuela at that moment. Isabela would break down for sure, so she remained motionless and silent as she felt her Abuela get up and heard her as she moved slowly toward the door. There was a pause and her Abuela said before leaving, “This past year, I have watched you and I see that you are so much more than I ever allowed you to be. Something I regret with my whole heart, mi vida. My hope, is that you’ll allow me to get to know this new woman you have become.”

Isabela heard the door close, and she finally looked up. Tears slipped down her face, and Issa had to admit, Luisa was right. Not only was she trying too hard to maintain her righteous anger, but she was also, once again, perversely jealous of her Giftless little sister. What is wrong with me, she wondered. There were times she woke up in the middle of the night as her memories of her less than sisterly treatment of Mirabel rushed through her head. This always led to her overcompensating the next day because she really was convinced that her sister had not, in fact, forgiven her but was playing a game. But like her Abuela Valentina said, Mirabel really was a transparent person. What you saw was what you got. What do you see in me, Mirabel, Isabela wondered?

She flopped back on her bed and was staring at nothing until something small and blue, flitted at the edge of her sight. She tried to focus on it, and she saw it again. It was a butterfly, she realized, and it was not alone in the canopy of trees above her. There were dozens and dozens of them. She watched, entranced, as they alternately shown bright blue then seemed to disappear into the shadows.

She reached out as one broke away and gently came to rest on her outstretched fingers. It was considerable, at least 17 cm with its wings outstretched. This weirdly reminded her of that door in Mirabel’s room, and she smiled. So, it was her mother who had been the one to ask for that door. Protecting Mirabel from her Abuela had been her main motivation these past few weeks, whether Mirabel wanted her too or not. She could see her efforts had been misdirected. It had not actually occurred to her to ask Dolores, and that probably meant her prima had told their Abuela what she had said on that topic. Isabela tried to muster anger, but she knew Dolores, like Luisa, was concerned about her. That made her feel a bit more at ease, knowing she did not need to be a one-woman army. Her mother as well had been dropping hints about her behavior of late. But she had been so focused on her ‘mission’ she did not notice that her mother and probably their father had already seen the potential problems.

Isabela marveled once again at the room Casita had made for her. The last had felt like a flower lined prison. Now she was surrounded by living plants, not just millions of flowers. She thought back to the feeling she had when she first grabbed that doorknob when she was five. Such a feeling of exhilaration and when she had opened that door and gone inside for the first time was something she would never forget. Something Mirabel only just got to experience. I am a fool, she thought.

Isabela sat up, and the butterfly flitted over and landed on her head. She thought back to the previous evening and asked. Casita, what happened last night?” The house responded by creaking the shutters, and Isabela asked, “How bad was it?”

There was a longer response, and Issa started to realize just how deep Mirabel’s fears of Casita falling were. Why she froze up at seemingly random times. That was why the house intervened as it did. It told Isabela about the ‘prank’ gone wrong, and she remembered then what Dolores had told her. How when Mirabel came back to her room with those sketches she had tried to pretend that never happened, but Dolores had heard it all. And here she was being a crappy sister.

“Casita, thank you for stopping me from making a complete idiot of myself, I know you were only trying to help Mira,” Isabela said sitting up.

Casita rustled some vines growing on the wall, and the wave had her focusing on a corner that had a small wardrobe. She walked across the mossy flagstones, opened it, and smiled. Inside were a pair of deep lavender trousers with a shirt of similar color that looked much like the one her father had made for Tío Bruno. There was a leather belt with a pink bow and small letter attached.

She touched the shirt and pants, then took the belt down and detached the letter. On the front, it read: For Isabee. It was her father’s handwriting, and Isabela took all the clothes and went back to her bed. She laid them out and carefully opened the letter.

Isabee,

A few weeks ago, I overheard you and your sisters talking about making pants and thought I would make you a pair. Mirabel will probably wonder where all of her notes went when she finds time to look for them. Besides, you likely wanted them sooner and not later.

When you were little, you and I always talked about your day. Watching you discover your world always brought me endless joy and though years have passed and though it’s not every day, I’m glad to hear your voice.

You are my little flower, busy as a little bee, bringing sunshine after a rain. Beautiful and capable, you have always been my bright beacon of hope, Corazón, and few love their daughters, the way I love you.

Your ever adoring Papí

Isabela read the letter several times before she put it back in its envelope and under her pillow. When they were growing up, she often felt her father favored Luisa or Mirabel over her, but in hindsight she knew he never pulled away from her, it had been the other way around. She stroked the fabric and was amazed at how soft it was. She stripped off her dress and looked at it. She loved that dress and all the changes she’d made to it. But it also represented a past she wanted to avoid returning to.

She tried on the shirt first. The scratches, while not deep, had not completely stopped bleeding, and she decided she would see her mother about that. Wouldn’t do to get blood all over her new shirt. That also meant she would need to explain how she had gotten them, and being angry all the time was something she did not wish to continue. As always, her father’s clothing fit her perfectly. She looked in the mirror and thought, she’d finally shed the last of her old skin and asked, “Casita, where’s Papí?”

There was a quick clatter and Isabela walked around her room getting used to the feel of them. She tucked in the shirt and put the belt in place. After putting on her shoes, she looked in the mirror again and noticed her hair. She had never considered cutting it, but she’d probably regret that decision so put it out of her head for now.

Isabela left her room, feeling as if she were someone new. Someone who could believe in herself. Maybe going to college would be just what she needed to do to find out whom she wanted to be. She went up to the library and her father was sitting reading a book about herbs and their many uses. He turned as she approached, and smiled.

“Ah, you found them mi vida,” he said and set the book on the table next to him.

Isabela twirled once and nodded. She noted he was missing his flower from his vest, and she said, “I did, thanks Papí. They fit perfectly too.” Isabela sat on the ottoman and gently touched his lapel. The flower that sprouted was not the usual one she made for this. Instead, she made a blue petaled daisy, and said, “For a new beginning.”

The wall clock chimed, and Isabela rolled her eyes and sighed as she got up. “Time for that meeting.” She said and went to head for the stairs but stopped. She turned back as her father rose from his chair and said, “Umm, if you’re not doing anything later, maybe we can have lunch and drag Mamá along, there are some things I want to talk about.”

Her father nodded, gave her a hug, and said, “I would like that, Isabela.”  He looked down at the flower and smiled as he said, “Yes, a new beginning.”

Isabela waved as she started down the stairs, feeling better than she had for a while. That is, until she ran smack into Mirabel on the landing. Mirabel suddenly overbalanced, landed hard on her back, knocking her glasses off. Isabela fell back but did not lose her footing. Mirabel groaned and sat up and said, “Oh my gosh, Issa, are you okay?”

“You’re the one on the floor,” Isabela said as she picked up her sister's glasses and helped her up, “I’m fine, how are you?”

Mirabel put her glasses back on and said, “I’m ok…oh wow…” Mirabel was walking all around her to look at the new outfit.

“I know, right?”

“You look stunning, as usual. I’m sorry I did not get yours done faster.”

“You’ve been busy.”

“And about this morning, I did not mean to get angry,” Mirabel said as Isabela watched her sister start to shrink in on herself, hands balled up in front of her, fear creeping in saying, “I’m sorry about-”

“Don’t you dare apologize, Mirabel Madrigal,” Isabela said cutting her off.

“But I…”

“But nothing, you had every right to get angry. I was being rude and stupid. I’m lucky Casita didn’t throw me out a window.”

Mirabel relaxed and tried not to smile. She nodded because she knew this was as close to an apology as Isabela could manage. “Oh, Tío and Abuela have already left. Abuela sent me to find you.”

“Yeah, we should go, but I need to talk to Mamá for a minute.”

They walked into the kitchen and saw that their mother and Tía were sitting at the table, drinking coffee. Her mother smiled seeing the new clothes and Tía Pepa was sitting with her mouth hanging open.

“You two should get a move on, or you’ll be late,” her mother said.

“We are going, I just got some scratches that need to be healed first,” Issa said and rolled up her sleeves.

Her mother had come around the table and gently traced the cuts. Isabela was surprised that she did not ask that obvious question as she reached for the small plate of cookies on the table. Her mother took one and handed it to her, and Isabela ate it.

The scratches and cuts disappeared, and Isabel said, “Thanks, Mamá. Probably gonna lay off the vine sleeves for a while.”

Her mother smiled, and nodded. Isabela smiled when her mother smoothed her hair behind her ear and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Her mother always seemed to understand what Isabela was trying to say without actually making her say it.

“You ready Mira?”

“No, but you’ll be with me, so hopefully I won’t make a complete fool of myself in front of the whole town.”

Isabela laughed as she turned her sister toward the door, giving her a gentle shove, “That’s the spirit. Hermanita.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Next Chapter:

Previous Chapter

[seldomscilence16]

Whumptober day 14: Die a Hero or Live Long Enough to Become a Villian

Fandom: Encanto

Prompts;

Desperate measures

Failed escape

"I'll be right behind you"

Encanto, by a non spanish speaker, who wants some angst... we'll try it.

Mirabel watches her family celebrate, take a picture to commemorate the occasion, while she stands on the sides, forgotten and ignored. It doesnt matter, shes only in like one photo anyway, and Antonio looks happy. Thats all that matters, she doesnt m...

She leaves the room, finds herself on one of the balconies, with only Casita as company. She stares out into the mostly empty town, wishing on nothing to be special like her family, to be considered family at all even.

The railing beneath her arms cracks, the wood snapping into her arm and drawing a thin line there, she flinches backwards, staring with wide eyes before another noise catches her attention. The crack goes all through town, and the mountains guarding their villiage, are split.

Shes racing inside as fast as she can.

"Dolores, please if you can hear me you must have heard that! The mountains, they've cracked!"

She does not go in yelling, she knows she cant cause a panic yet, there are children here after all, and elderly. She needs to talk to her Abuela without scaring anyone. Dolores thankfully, has pulled her aside and they look up at her approach.

"I saw it," she whispers, as the three smile and make their way out of the room. "It goes through town, all the way to the mountains. Casitas railing too..."

Its all there when they arrive at the balcony, and Mirabel is thankful shes not going crazy yet. Abuela takes it in with horror filled eyes, Dolores looking almost numb behind her.

"We... must warn the people. Our Encanto has been broken... its only a matter of time."

"But why is this happening Abuela?" Dolores' voice is soft, her eyes drawn to the candle in the window.

"I do not know. But we will keep the miracle strong, we will protect our people. Get the others, I will address the town." Abuela hasnt looked at Mirabel once, but shes not surprised.

They watch her walk off, and Dolores finally shows fear in her eyes.

"The miracle is dying, if the Encanto is breaking." She says simply.

Mirabel is hesitant as she places a hand softly on her cousins arm,

"The miracle is in you all, have faith in the family Prima, and we'll make it through this."

The eye contact after is intense for someone who is used to being avoided. But Dolores puts a hand on Mirabels shoulder and squeezes,

"Help me get everyone?" She asks, and it has to be the first time someones asked for her help in... forever.

"Of course."

...

The town is on fire.

People are screaming and the town is on fire.

The candle flickers, a hand covers the flame- glowing and see through- Abuelo stands there, watching with worried eyes that jump to meet your own.

'Save them.' He mouths the words but they seem to echo around you.

Everything flickers, then burns, you burn-

Mirabel wakes with a gasp and coughs as smoke fills her lungs. Its a thin layer, coming in from the open window, she rushes over to find the forest near the cracked mountains burning.

"Casita! I know your hurting, but please wake everyone up! We have to get the town to safety, now!"

The windows shutters and tiles flap and Mirabel gets the basic message, the adults arent here.

"Miercoles..." she mutters, throwing on her closes and slinging the small pack shed done up after Antonios birthday a few days ago over her shoulder.

Shes banging on doors as she passes them, rushing into Antonios and slinging his pack over her other shoulder.

"Antonio, Parce! Its time to go!"

The jaguar leaps from somewhere in the trees, a groggy five year old on his back. The other animals had already left, Parce refusing, he would come in handy though, getting Antonio to safety quickly.

"Mira... rats say theres an Tio in the walls." The boy mumbles, "you'll save him too right?"

She doesnt quite know what that means, a rat Tio? Or... a random Tio? Is this Tio alive?

"I'm sure the other rats got him out already Tonito."

"Notta rat... Bruno." The boys a little more awake now, "Tio Bruno. You'll save him too right Mira?"

Tio Bruno... was in the walls...

"Alright Tonito, I'll get Tio Bruno."

"I'll come too." He rubs at his eyes, alert now it seems.

"No, you need to go with the others. I'll be right behind you." She places his bag in his arms and looks to Parce, "Get him to safety."

The leapord almost seems to nod, before taking off. Mira looks to Casita's cieling,

"Is there a man living in your walls?"

The house is almost bashful as the tiles seem to nod and point towards a painting. Of course, the only being that seemed to like her, and the Casita still hid something like this from her. She sighs before making her way over,

"Alright, help everyone else. I'll get the forbidden Tio."

...

They had told the town at the party. Everyone had gone home to pack their essentials and be prepared for a long hike over the opposite mountains. It was hard to convince everyone, so many that didnt want to run again, so many that felt they couldnt. But they had to try. They would not be slaughtered, not willingly.

Mirabel hadnt been part of the planning much, but then, none of the kids really had. Even Isabella and Luisa were mostly out of the loop, only Dolores able to give updates when they sat in Casita while the adults were in town. It was the most time she'd spent with her sisters and cousins in a very long time.

Mirabel may not feel like shes part of the family anymore, and that it took a disaster to bring them together- even just a little- but she wishes with all her heart, that they all make it out of this.

Even if she practically has to force her Tio into Dolores' waiting arms. The man had given a ramble of why he had to stay in the walls before he would listen to Mirabels explanation of "the town is on fire get out." She didnt know what prophecy he was talking about, or why he was sorry to her, but she could assume somehow, this had to be her fault. Because it always was right?

"Hurry after the others! I gotta get one more thing!" She tells her Prima, who gives a skeptical look, but at the cracking of the walls nods and hurries off.

It stings a little, how quickly she left her alone, but it didnt matter. She wanted them to be safe anyway. They were the miracle, with or without their gifts, and they needed to survive.

The house shakes again, cracking and breaking as fire dances outside the window.

"Casita, get me to the candle, please."

She hadnt really paid attention to it before, had kinda assumed it was her loneliness, but every piece that falls beneath her hands as she climbs her way to the window, almost feels like a hand. Her dream comes back to her and she glances at Abuelos picture, wonders if the dream was a warning from him, from... Casita.

She should have known really. A miracle born of the sacrifice Abuelo made, his love for his family... the Casita falls apart around her as it- no he- works to lift her to the candle. She doesnt know why the miracle is dying, if its her fault or the invaders or... she has the candle in her grasp, hears shouts from outside the house, Casita falls, and she with it, she shields the candle as her world comes crashing down.

...

Julieta is pulled away from the rubble, the invaders burning the town below as the people run. They dont have time to look for her daughter, her baby, the only one still inside according to Dolores, trying to save that damn candle. Because she was told it was important, apparently more important than her life. The Casita had pushed Dolores out when shed come back for Mirabel, had watched helplessly as the building crumbled on top of the 15 year old.

She pleads with Julieta, that she didnt know Mirabel was getting the candle. That she just wanted to get Tio Bruno out, then she was coming right back for Mirabel. And it was another relevation, that Mirabel had gotten everyone out, including the brother she thought long gone, and stayed for that damn candle. She holds her niece close as they make their way up the mountain.

...

Its dark, dusty.

She thinks there may be pain, but everything seems so far away.

A light, a hand brushing the hair from her face,

"Save them"

Warmth bursts within her, it does not bring joy, but a raging inferno as anger bursts inside of her, its all she can feel, all she cwn process. Anger at the rubble around her, anger at the ones who dared invade their encanto, anger and everything and nothing and suddenly words are too much and all she knows is the fire burning inside and out.

...

Their powers had flickered, too much and not enough and then seemed to vanish completely with the fall of the house. In the choas it didnt much matter- or rather they couldnt pause to think about it- but now surrounded and split off from the other villagers, with no powers to support them and the grief of loss deep seated, it hangs on their shoulders heavily.

Felix and Agustin shield the others as best they can, Bruno a barrier infront of the children as best he can be, Julieta and Pepa at either of his shoulders and Abuela trying to talk the invaders down. The hopelessness of the situation is palpable, the desperation in Abuelas voice as she begs for the children to be freed.

It seems to happen in slow motion, as flames burst higher, debri flying high into the early morning sky, as the ruins of their Casita explode in a fiery haze. The shade of these flames are lighter than those around it, at its center something moves that they cant quite see, but flames are quick to feed off the invaders still in the village. The men surrounding them shift uneasily, attention split between the Madrigals and the destruction below.

Its a surprise to everyone when the strange fire seems to jump, making its way quickly towards their position, and leaving only the faintest scorches behind. Burning nothing but invaders.

As it draws closer they see a glowing figure within the flame, golden and with intricate- familiar- designs swirling across their body. Familair curls seem to float with the flickering fire, and light shines off emerald frames.

Mirabel is within the fire once isolated on a wick, surrounded by the silhouette of a man long dead but honored.

Stood in shock perhaps, the men are quickly burnt to dust, though not a lick of the flame touches the Madrigals. Bruno is gaping at his niece, a vision long kept silent at the forefront of his mind, one that now made sense. Just as she could save them, they would need to save her before they all lost.

The invaders are smoking piles of ash, the people of the Encanto hidden as far as they could get. The fire around Mirabel does not go out, but it does shrink, the fires in the town already dwindling out. She stands amongst unbothered trees, a few feet from the gathered Madrigals, unmoving. They can barely tell if she even breaths, but they can now see numerous injuries littering her dusty body.

Julieta has tears streaming down her face, and Bruno hesitantly touches her shoulder,

"Shes alive Jules, she saved us, now we have to save her." Maybe the family will finally realize, the real gift isnt power, its eachother.

[wikluk]

I posted 3,866 times in 2022

That's 3,334 more posts than 2021!

1,060 posts created (27%)

2,806 posts reblogged (73%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@katierosefun

@the-obiwan-for-me

@jaskiersbeloved

@daliceus

@ginnyweatherby

I tagged 3,851 of my posts in 2022

#encanto - 1,639 posts

#wiktoria's fanfiction corner - 571 posts

#star wars - 415 posts

#answered - 389 posts

#random things - 325 posts

#to fall apart to reunite - 195 posts

#writing - 162 posts

#julieta x agustin - 142 posts

#julieta and mirabel - 125 posts

#fanfiction - 124 posts

Longest Tag: 114 characters

#his hair always looked greasy and i love it cuuuuuz they were at war it makes perfect sense to not have ideal hair

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

See the full post

188 notes - Posted February 1, 2022

#4

Okay so I know Julieta’s not having triplets in your ‘something unexpected’ fic. Buuuut! Just for funsies, what would’ve been the reaction if she was?

Like Bruno’s says “congrats Juli, they’re adorable”

There’s a pause and then suddenly the whole table shouts some variation of “they! As in more than one!!?

The chaos would be epic!

Actually, gonna be honest, the thought of her having triplets did cross my mind when I was writing that chapter, though mostly to just tease Julieta and make her frozen on the spot lmao, but let's do an alteration of that chapter!

vvvvvvvvvvvvvv

“I hear a new heartbeat,” Dolores muttered weakly.

And after no longer than a second, Pepa stood up so suddenly her chair fell to the floor. “You’re pregnant?!” she roared, glaring daggers at Mariano as if she was ready to kill him with a bolt of lightning that barely missed his chair.

Julieta only blinked. So Antonio would get a baby – who cared if it was a cousin or a nephew – sooner than she anticipated–

–but Dolores suddenly shook her head, gaping at her mother in shock. “I’m not?! We never–”

“Then who?” Alma demanded sharply, her gaze stopping at Isabela and Luisa who looked equally surprised by the revelation. “Girls?”

Luisa started coughing and Isabela just stared back at her, her eyes wide, her head shaking the tiniest bit.

“Mirabel…?” Alma started hesitantly.

Julieta felt her heart racing. Surely, it couldn't be her baby girl, right– 

Mirabel choked on her sip of juice and Camilo patted her on her back so hard it sounded like all her organs did a flip inside. “What?!”

Alma wanted to repeat the question, it was clear, but at the same time Dolores slammed her both hands on the table, yelling “It’s tía!” and Bruno’s eyes went shining green at the same second.

Julieta was fairly certain her heart stopped. The wine glass dropped from Agustín’s hand and broke into three pieces on the table, spilling the remaining wine onto the surface.

But otherwise, there was silence. 

The only sound anyone emitted was heavy breathing coming from Bruno as he grasped the edges of the table and leaned over it to blink quickly a few times just a few seconds later, getting rid of the shiny glimmer that had just lit up his eyes.

Then he looked around, a little confused, smacking himself on the head lightly, and a small smile appeared on his lips. “Congratulations Juli, they're adorable.”

Silence.

Camilo was the first to recover. “They? As in more than one?”

Bruno opened his mouth to answer but Dolores beat him to it. “There are three new heartbeats.”

Pepa thundered. “Three–”

“Triplets?!”

“Santa Maria–”

“Bruno, Brunito, hermanito, what did you see?!” Pepa asked loudly.

All people at the table looked at him. He chuckled nervously. “Ah-uh, three babies?”

“Three babies!”

“Well, no babies, more like toddlers but yeah–”

See the full post

219 notes - Posted May 9, 2022

#3

Thinking about the fact Julieta's basically keeping Mirabel locked in this bone-crushing hug. I need soft things.

450 notes - Posted August 16, 2022

#2

HEADCANON: Little Mirabel spent so much time with Julieta that she started copying her in many things. One of those things was repeating words/phrases she used the most, and often she was just in-sync with Julieta. So just imagine Julieta and this 3-4yo Mirabel sighing and saying at the same time “Ay Agustín” whenever he got hurt.

904 notes - Posted May 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

source: @angelo.sta.catalina

Man– Man. I can’t– Can an animation test make you feel?

It’s so good. Wish they kept some dancing scenes with family members others than Pepa and Félix 😭 We deserve this Agustín and Julieta’s dance!

Head empty, only melting heart. shsejkdxhsdx

1,565 notes - Posted January 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[jacarandaaaas]

GUYS WE GOT AN UPDATED SYNOPSIS FOR THE OFFICIAL ENCANTO COMIC COMING OUT

let me dissect this!!! Ok so it seems it’s not just one storyline like the previous one about the bully? it does say vol 1 making me think it’s multiple short stories slice of life style (COUGH this would make a perfect animated series) secret visions? I cant tell if that’s a reference to the movie or if there’s more secret visions? MAKING NEW FRIENDS AHHH!! this one got me excited I can think of so many characters it applies to like mirabel, camilo, Antonio, luisa, dolores. in my heart I want it to be about isa because hc she doesn’t have any real friends because like Mariano everything was to keep up madrigal image! I want Isa to have friends🙏 talent shows!! is this gonna be rat shows or family shows? imagine the whole family having a talent show stop!!! Felix would win btw! “Tall tales” I’m assuming that could be the bully thing since that refers to lies eg someone lying about a madrigal for personal gain or smth. let me know your thoughts !!!

[paperrretro]

meet the family.

Pairing: Camilo Madrigal x Reader

Word Count: 1,443 words

Warnings: None

“Mamá,” Camilo says, “you know [Y/n], right?”

Pepa’s eyes quickly snap to you. Your posture is stiff and straight as you stand next to Camilo, a nervous smile on your face, fingers just barely brushing his. She blinks. A hand raises to lay over her heart.

“Oh?” The sun suddenly becomes blinding as clouds flee from the sky, and the temperature flares for half a second. “Yes, of course! Of course I do,” she replies, gaze bright. “How are you, [Y/n]? Your family?”

“We’re doing well, Señora. I hope the Family Madrigal is well.”

“We are! Thank you for asking.”

You nod fervently, smile, and say nothing more. Pepa examines you further, vaguely recalling you as the timid child that hid behind the flower carts years ago, exactly the type that little Camilo would’ve enjoyed trying to get a giggle out of; but you do not cower now, not even as the sun blares, and the subdued smile on her son’s face when he looks at you softens the hesitation in her chest.

How old is Camilo now?

“I was thinking that they could come over for dinner sometime. Like tomorrow, or something.”

“Oh?”

There’s a brief flash of summer lightning. It is just a crackle right above Pepa’s head, shining white and quickly snuffed out, but this time, the two of you startle just the slightest bit.

You start to apologize. “I-I wouldn’t want to intrude –”

“No, no, no, no!” she interrupts, seizing the reins in a desperate attempt to unearth the meaning beneath Camilo’s request. “Of course you can come over for dinner tomorrow!” Your smile returns with relief, thanking her, and she then addresses Camilo. “You’ll need to tell your abuela and everyone else yourself.”

“Dolores’ll probably beat me to it, but okay.” Camilo turns to you, hair greying as he shifts into his grandmother and folds his hands primly. “Dinner is at eight o’clock. My favorite oldest grandson, Camilo Madrigal, will escort you to La Casa Madrigal tomorrow evening.”

Pepa does not miss the way her son absolutely brightens when you chuckle. The sky cannot get any bluer.

—

“You’ll be sitting between me and Dolores. And Chispi might be in your seat, but he’s just warming it up for you. You can shoo him off.” Camilo ticks off the list on his fingers, leading you up the pathway to Casita. The roof tiles ripple in greeting, and you both wave. “And I think that’s it! It’ll be fun, so don’t worry about anything.”

“I’m still kind of nervous,” you say, gaze trained on your shoes scuffling through the dirt.

“Why? You’ve been here before.”

“Yeah, with the rest of the town. Not for dinner like this. My ma’s making it such a big deal, so it feels like …”

You don’t say it. You don’t have to. Camilo rubs the back of his head.

“Look, um”—he wonders if he should mention the Mariano incident, but quickly aborts the notion with an unwanted blush—“it’s really just a regular dinner. Just kick me underneath the table if it’s too much, you know? I’ll take care of it.”

You wet your lips. Then you clear your throat.

“Okay. You’re right,” he hears you say, and Camilo nods as you manage a small grin and straighten your clothes. “Just a … regular dinner.”

You close your eyes, take in a deep breath, and then open them again. He coughs and glances away just before you notice him staring. This dinner won’t scare you away, but the mere thought shakes his usual confidence just a little.

“They’ll love you,” Camilo assures, taking your hand, and the doors swing open.

Antonio and Pico stand at the front of the courtyard. “Welcome to La Casa Madrigal!” exclaims Antonio, and Pico lets out a welcoming squawk.

“Welcome!” calls the rest of his family from the stairs, and Camilo sighs as his hopes for something more casual are completely dashed.

But you laugh as coatis surround you. A hummingbird lands in your hair, and Camilo can practically feel your apprehensions melt away as you squeeze his hand. “Thank you,” you say.

His little brother leads the two of you to the dining room. You’re squeezed in between Camilo and Dolores.

“Hello, [Y/n],” says Dolores in that usual soft way of hers, eyes wide. Mariano holds her hand as she takes a seat.

“Hello.” You nod at Mariano. “Hello, Señor Guzmán. How is the baby?”

Mariano’s arm wraps around his pregnant wife to give her a squeeze. “Wonderful.”

“I hear their little heartbeat all the time,” Dolores responds wispily. “Just like I hear Camilo’s whenever you talk to him.”

“O-Oh?”

Dolores!

“Ah, it’s picking up again.”

He laughs a little too loudly. “What can I say? You bring me to life, cariño,” Camilo teases, shooting a glare at his sister behind your back.

Dolores tilts her head and stares back at him, the picture of innocence. You merely let out an ‘oh’ and scrunch your shoulders up, the barest of smiles tugging at the corner of your mouth.

And the dinner commences.

Abuela utters your name cordially, all pleasantry and grace. “How is your father doing these days?” she questions.

“He’s doing great. Oh – and he wanted me to tell you that the new table you wanted will be ready tomorrow.”

“That’s wonderful. And your mother?”

“Busy as always, managing the shop.”

Camilo gulps down some soup and nudges you. “[Y/n]’s been really busy too. I watched them finish up a cabinet just the other day – had all four legs and everything.” He winks at you, and you laugh, flustered.

“I certainly hope so,” his dad chortles. “You must be as talented as your dad!”

“My dad – no, no, no! Not yet.”

Mirabel claps her hands together. “What’s your favorite thing to make?”

You hum and take a bite of your arepa. Camilo, amused, watches as you seriously ponder the question.

“Seat furniture.”

“Why?”

“Well …” Twisting your lip, your eyes light up. “Because you can make different kinds. Rocking chairs, or stools, or benches, and you can make them round or square …”

The question seems to open you up, and as his family peppers you with questions about uneven chair legs and flower designs, Camilo knows how he’s looking at you. But he can’t help it. When you laugh with his mom, and pet Antonio’s animals when they chitter around, and compliment Luisa’s new dress, he can’t help it.

“I hope Camilo doesn’t distract you too much when he visits the shop.”

“Hey,” he defends, perking up, “when is that ever a bad thing?”

“I like it when he drops by,” you say. “As long as he doesn’t touch any of the tools, everything’s fine.”

He clutches his chest like you’ve punched the breath out of him. “I was just trying to help that one time!” The next moment, he’s shifted into the likeness of your father, pretending to saw the table. “Nothing would’ve broken if I looked the part, huh?”

You stifle a snort and shake your head. “It’s best when you’re just there as yourself, Camilo.”

He blinks, abruptly shifting back.

Ah.

Dolores squeaks.

Having no quip to reply with, Camilo just tries to hide his blush behind a few more shovelfuls of food.

Tía Julieta brings out the dessert. Isabela and Mirabel had helped out with it, and he comments that it turned out pretty well, considering their past attempts. You linger at the table with them after the food’s been cleared off the table, sipping a warm drink and indulging in Mariano’s poems about his wife.

(Admittedly, his brother-in-law’s grown on him, mostly because he makes Dolores so happy. Mariano means well, loves his family, helps when he can. Camilo can’t dislike a guy like that.)

When the hour grows late, you thank them happily for the dinner and get up to leave.

“I’ll walk you back home,” Camilo offers, pushing his chair back and standing with you.

“Well, I would expect nothing less,” Abuela says.

The two of you are ushered out of the house with many cheery goodbyes.

—

He kisses your cheek on the corner before your house comes into view. You return it, and Camilo is never happier to be himself than right at that moment.

—

(“So, how was the walk, mijo?”

“It was good.”

“Oh, it was good.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ow, stop elbowing me!”

“Aw, mi hermano is growing up.”

“I’ve never seen that smile before.”

“Maybe you need better glasses, Mirabel. I’ve seen it for the past year.”

“I better see them come over more often, Camilo.”

Camilo smiles.

“Don’t worry, Mamí. They will.”)

[miracles-and-butterflies]

For @maleficent09, based on the prompt: “even thouth casita is rebuild the magic is back she (Mirabel) worry that as some point things might go back to we’re they were and she jumps any time some one simply rises there voice and look around panicking that the house will start to crack agian.”

Again, told through Mirabel’s eyes.

This is the first of two parts because I felt it was getting too long.

~~~~~~

Never, Ever Different

Mirabel did very little in terms of Casita’s reconstruction. It shouldn’t have been that surprising to anyone: she’s fifteen, still trying to keep her grades flawless and frankly knows very little about construction.

Her only addition to the house had been a tapestry of their family. When the question came of replacing their family tree picture in the dining room, Mirabel insisted that she could help with that. She knows many people dislike the mundane tasks like this, they dislike how it takes up time. For Mirabel though it was a nice thing to do, not just to help her family, but also to feel a small sense of control and worth. 

It was something that made her feel content, glad to see the family whole and happy, comforted by the little details that only she seemed to observe, satisfied with no loose threads, all her embroidery gave her a small hint of peace. That was really her main role, the family’s seamstress, which she accepted wholeheartedly - it was better than nothing, and she always loved sewing.

The minor pieces of gratitude were a lifeline to her, after ten years of nothing. It made her day to know she’d done something they appreciated.

She’d quietly slipped inside during the final days of putting the last few pieces together through the back, and was pleased to find the dining room empty. Carefully, putting a nail into the centre of the wall and hammering in further in - the last part took longer than it should because of her weak arms.

But, eventually, the tapestry was hanging steady.

That had been two months ago.

The miracle had returned, they were reunited with their gifts and using them as they pleased, all of their images were in front door. Together, smiling. It was nice, everyone had agreed. Mirabel had settled back into her old routine of chores around the house with Pa and Tío Félix.

Well, settled, in this case is somewhat relative, considering that her behaviour is far from settled.

She’s always been skittish, but now she’s full on jumpy. Always on high alert for something.

Noise is the main trigger. Too much, too loud. It’s not necessarily small spaces, but something about the walls closing in her sets her off. She hates the hugs that confine her or being huddled inside Antonio’s forts, but she knows she must smile and get on with it.

She’s not sat in Casita remains, she’ll tell herself. And then cough to clear dust all the same.

The house was quiet.

Not that she would have preferred it to be noisy. That would hurt her, and she didn’t want to think about how it would hurt Dolores.

Everyone was asleep, or at least pretending to be. That was what Mirabel was doing.

She was tired, completely exhausted, and she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep until the sun rose. Truth be told, she hadn’t slept right since they moved. She never remembers going to sleep, her body just eventually passes out from exhaustion.

But the thoughts in her head never went to sleep. They would be there when she woke up, when she was in school, when she was sewing, and, such as right now, when she went to bed.

Thoughts about Abuela. And Mama and Pa. And Tía Pepa and Tío Félix and Tío Bruno and Isabela and Luisa and Dolores and Camilo and Antonio.

Thoughts about all the horrible ways this second chance could crumble to nothing. Of all the little mistakes she was bound to make and all the different ways it would drive people away.

What if she messes up?

What if she gets in the way?

What if they continue to forget her?

What if the miracle fades?

What if the house cracks?

What if the house collapses?

What if they leave her for dead?

Within a second, Mirabel is out of bed. Her feet pacing along the cold wood, arms wrapping around her sides.

She tries to stop herself from spiralling any further. Digging her fingernails harsh into the fabric around her hips, she desperately tried to ground herself.

This was getting ridiculous. She hadn’t even been anywhere near the cracks this time. Usually, this happened when she was in the dining room or the bottom of the stairs or staring up at where the candle use to be.

She carefully opens the nursery door and peers into the darkness.

Still and quiet and peaceful.

Just to be sure, she’ll have a quick walk.

~~~~~~

She’d found nothing.

Mirabel checked again, as soon as she woke up the next morning. She smiled with satisfaction, sighed in relief and went about her day.

Two, maybe three, boys not much older than Antonio had started questioning her on the way home from school. They were curious about how Julieta’s healing food worked and were going to ask Camilo, but he had told them to wait for the girl in the teal skirt.

Because still nobody knew her name.

One of the boys pulled her aside to sit with them. She complied.

“Come on! Tell us, tell us about the magic!”

“How does it work?”

“Is it just an excuse to eat cocadas?”

She’ll admit, they weren’t the best listeners, glancing constantly at each other and giggling. But they seemed to be interested in the conversation. Bouncing with questions and theories. While she was answering, something sliced open her palm.

The boy grinned at her, still holding her hand and a red stained shard of glass in the other. They all laughed. Asking if she would go get herself healed and could demonstrate it to them.

It hurt. It burned. And their laughter was ringing in her ears.

The cut looked like the one from Casita’s tile.

This time was painful. Deep. And bleeding more. It wasn’t a mere accidental scratch. This had been purposeful. God, had Camilo stitched her up intentionally? Did he know they were going to do this?

“Hello? Why aren’t you getting healed?”

“Do you not feel hungry?”

“She looks like she’s about to cry.”

“Pft! I wouldn’t cry about that, I’m a big boy.”

She gently pulled her hand away and got up. “I’m sorry… I have to go.”

They watched, booing in disappointment, as she quickly put distance between them. Where did they even find broken glass?

Dinner is impossible.

She can’t hold anything without raising suspicion. There’s already a few red droplets on her skirt, thankfully it just blends in seamlessly with the colourful embroidery. But she starts getting concerned glances from the adults because she’s not eating and eventually, she has no choice but to suck up the pain and get on with it.

Once she’s finished, she goes to take her plate to the kitchen.

She can’t help but smile. She’s proud and bewildered at herself. She got through dinner and she’s going to go wash the bloody evidence before anyone knows anything. Maybe she’ll even go to bed early tonight.

She tucked her chair in with new found determination.

And then she heard a crack directly behind her and she dropped her plate. It shattered over her foot, shards scratching and lodged in the skin, but Mirabel doesn’t even react to it.

She couldn’t. She’s more focused on the crack.

Mirabel tries to work out where it came from. Amber eyes scanning every tile, wall and the ceiling. There’s nothing. But she heard it! There has to be! She can’t help but link it back to the disastrous proposal dinner…

“Mirabel, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“Mi amor?”

“Mirabel?”

“She looks pale.”

“Sobrina?”

“Mirabel, mija, are you okay?”

“Hellooo?”

“What’s up with her?”

Over ten voices babble at once, it’s too much and Mirabel is slipping. She mentally scrabbles and grips and tries to keep herself conscious but she’s falling, falling, being dropped over the edge of Casita—

“Mirabel!”

She gasped and stumbled backwards, bumping into someone, she jerks out of the grasp of her father trying to steady her. Blurry faces are staring at her, confused and horrified; it really is the dinner proposal all over again.

She blinks once, twice. The back wall is still blurry. Where are her glasses? She was just wearing them, wasn’t she? Naturally, she’s confused and she looks around as though she didn’t know where she was.

“Are you alright, sobrina?” Pepa asked, her voice thick with worry. As if the rumbling clouds weren’t enough of a giveaway. 

“You kinda zoned out there for a minute.” Agustín explained.

“Sorry. I’m fine.”

Julieta and Félix exchange skeptical looks, but didn’t do anything when the second youngest assured them all that she was fine.

“Are you sure?” Julieta gently touches her daughter’s shoulder, “You can go up to bed if you’re not well. Someone else can handle the cleaning.”

“No, really, I’m fine.”

Sure, her ankle hurt a little, but that was just dropping a plate over it. Not from her weird and sudden daze.

Night falls and she was back in the same place she was last night.

Her mother had given her some arepas earlier, but Mirabel passed those straight to Camilo when no one was looking.

There’s nothing she can do about it. The cuts keeps opening and the memories do too. She wasn’t getting it or her ankle healed, that would make the memories real. She wasn’t doing this again. Casita wasn’t breaking.

She was curled up in bed, reading a book she doesn’t know the title of - having picked it randomly from her shelf. Holding it awkwardly in her left, unharmed hand. Hoping for sleep.

~~~~~~

The next day is a blur. But it’s not much better.

Her tapestry hangs tattered in the dining room, separating her from the rest of the family. She found it like that in the morning, when setting the table. A knife left on the counter, still caught in loose threads. She would have fixed it during the day, but everything she touches breaks. And it’s not like anyone else noticed.

She hasn’t cried so much since before Casita fell. She wept hard, her palm burned.

Mirabel was lost.

She wanted to go home.

She whimpered softly, feeling tears, but she stamped them back down. She would not lose herself. She couldn’t. That’s why Casita broke last time. Besides, she’s always been in denial of her feelings - always telling people she’s fine.

There was a crash of thunder; actual, genuine thunder. Not Tía Pepa.

Mirabel jumped out of bed, slamming her body up against the wall and staring with wide eyes as at the closed shutters as the heavy downpour of rain suddenly came down against the building.

It was dark and grey, just like this, when the house collapsed.

In spite of how clearly she remembers the fall, she can’t remember if the weather was as stormy. There had been a few drops of rain, the last of Pepa’s powers. But Mirabel doesn’t know if there was anything else.

She can easily imagine a storm.

Lightning slashing over the mountains as thunder rolled through her eardrums. Cracks appearing everywhere, jagged and fang-shaped.

She’s pulled from her thoughts by loud voices. Her family. They were arguing about something downstairs.

Abuela’s voices rises above the rest.

She tries to block her grandmother out with her hands. It’s useless. She can hear so clearly.

Thunder rattled the structure.

Not again.

She’s out the door before she knows what she’s doing, going for the candle.

Mirabel stumbled away from the nursery, managing to keep a steady balance and pace, even with her rising anxiety. Her eyes look up, staring at the empty darkness of where the candle once sat.

They don’t have the candle anymore.

Because she killed it.

Where’s the miracle coming from now then?

It was all her fault.

The doorknob?

She never deserved it.

Turning on her heel, she heads down stairs, put go breath. Several confused and concerned voices call her name from the kitchen, but she doesn’t hear them.

Mirabel’s fingers, stiff and pale, wrapped around the brass handle. Nothing. It’s not locked, she can see that, but it doesn’t open either.

She yanked at the doorknob. Didn’t budge. Was the door always so stiff? She pulled again in panic. Nothing. When the third jiggle of the doorknob did nothing, Mirabel finally unwrapped her hand from the metal.

However, to her surprise, the house tiles lifted to push her back, gently sending her to the floor, in the centre of the courtyard.

In her grave.

Or her almost grave.

She stumbled to her feet and planned to charge at the door, hoping that would open it, but a pair of arms secured themselves around her waist and pulled her off the floor. The grip was tight, crushing even, like being underneath the remains. She screamed.

“Shh, it’s okay, Mirabel, you’re okay. You’re going to be just fine,” a distant voice says. “Take it easy, Miraboo. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

That was a lie. Mirabel could never be ‘fine’ again. She was broken beyond repair. Neither was everything okay, the house was mere minutes away from collapsing.

“Mirabel, can you hear us?” Asked another voice. “You’re safe, you’re in Casita.”

“You’re safe, mija, nobody’s going to harm you. It’s just us.”

Her voice chipped away to nothingness, leaving her unable to do anything but whimper. Thrashing wasn’t doing much either, her body was tired and sore, so Mirabel relaxed in the hold. The rampage of her mind seemed to holt.

Everything about this was wrong.

Whether Agustín’s grip had become lax or he had intentionally let her go as she was calmer, Mirabel’s feet tapped against the cool tiles. Agustín’s arms had barely left for a second before she was instinctively bolting for the front door.

Once again, the doorknob refused to budge. Even as she put all of her weight on it.

An arm wraps around her again, she shrieks and whirls around, back slamming against the wood.

It still doesn’t move.

Her mind was back to going a million miles per hour, amber eyes trying to locate another solution - though most of her vision was blurry. She settled on the patio door.

Scampering to the right and screaming as if she was being murdered when someone tried to grab at her again. She continued crying out as the handle unscrewed itself before she could lay a finger on it.

The thing clanged on the floor.

Now she wasn’t only crying in panic that she wouldn’t get out, but this only proved that the building was starting to break.

It was only a matter of time.

[genderfluid-genderqueer-life]

@incorrectmadrigalfamilyquotes

Madrigals as things my roommate has said:

Camilo-(burning Mac and cheese) If I do a dance in my fancy pants this will turn out fine.

Dolores- If you didn't hear it, it didn't happen.

Antonio- This is a dog. It goes "bark bark, eat less chicken, murderer."

Pepa-(in a silent room) Stop that you idiot! I can't hear myself think!

Felix- Calm down. You need like, a bottle of chill cough syrup, forget a chill pill. Like relax.

Julieta- How dare you order a pizza. Give me some.

Agustín-(after running into a tree) I think I'm too cool for walking.

Mirabel- I have a kazoo, I think I'll recreate the 'it's a mental breakdown' vine.

Isabela- You disgust me. How dare you wear an ORANGE shirt on my birthday.

Luisa- I'm tired of work. So I think imma write an essay. Come get me in three hours.

Abuela- I love you which is why I despise you so greatly.

[incorrectmadrigalfamilyquotes]

Madrigals as things my roommate has said to me:

Camilo-(burning Mac and cheese) If I do a dance in my fancy pants this will turn out fine.

Dolores- If you didn't hear it, it didn't happen.

Antonio- This is a dog. It goes "bark bark, eat less chicken, murderer."

Pepa-(in a silent room) Stop that you idiot! I can't hear myself think!

Félix- Calm down. You need like, a bottle of chill cough syrup, forget a chill pill. Like relax.

Julieta- How dare you order a pizza. Give me some.

Agustín-(after running into a tree) I think I'm too cool for walking.

Mirabel- I have a kazoo, I think I'll recreate the 'it's a mental breakdown' vine.

Isabela- You disgust me. How dare you wear an ORANGE shirt on my birthday.

Luisa- I'm tired of work. So I think imma write an essay. Come get me in three hours.

Abuela Alma- I love you which is why I despise you so greatly.