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hausofmamadas · 1 year

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| What’s waiting down Zuni Road |

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Pairing: Gabriella Castillo (Mayans M.C.) x Ignacio “Nacho” Varga (Better Call Saul)

Gift for the wonderful, illustrious, prolific @drabbles-mc - Rarepairs Exchange 2023

Word count: ≈5k

TW: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of violence

It's dangerous to be a woman in love. A brush with death at the hands of the man she loved sends Gabrielle Castillo on the run, in more ways than she expected. Burned in a betrayal she never saw coming, and tipped off by a non-garbage Angel Reyes to a place to hide out, a safe haven, a place to temporarily call home, she books it tf to Albuquerque. She arrives with newfound determination not only to survive, but a conviction to never let love blind her to pinshe toxicos malparidos like EZ Reyes ever again. Still, in terms of an actual plan? She has no idea where to go, who to turn to, or what to do next. That is, until she runs into our fav Walter Matthau-grumpy-old-man, not nearly old enough to be so grumpy, Nacho "forreal don't call me Ignacio" Varga. In some ways, he reminds her of EZ but she's dead set against falling for another pair of brown eyes full of lost hope and squandered dreams. But the more she gets to know him, the more it calls into question ... would it really be the same with Nacho? Is Gaby willing to find out? spoiler alert: she is. she very much is. sorry but like have you seen him? lbr here

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Mamá always told me to watch out for red flags in life. Dime con quien andas, te diré quien eres. Porque when someone shows you who they are, they’re doing you a favor.

She never said it out loud but I learned early on, the ones who waved the red flags most were the boys. Not that I was especially boy crazy at that age, but it seemed wherever I looked, there they were: waving red flags, making promises they couldn’t keep, being unfaithful, disloyal, dishonest.

My older cousin Mercedes had a boyfriend back in Mexico who used to tell her not to wear shorts that were too short because he did not like the way her thighs flattened on chairs when she sat down. At the age of five, I knew how mean it was and to this day, I cannot understand how it didn’t bring her to tears. But it didn’t. And she always listened to him about things like that, until he got her best friend pregnant and the two of them ran off together, leaving Mercedes behind. It was the best thing he could have ever done for her though. Because she never let anyone tell her what kind of shorts to wear after that.

The first boy I ever had a crush on in elementary school told me that even though he thought my eyes were pretty and he liked how I wore my hair in braids, we couldn’t be together because I raised my hand too much in class to answer questions. And girls were not supposed to be as smart as boys. At the picnic tables at lunch, I cried over my usual peanut butter and jelly sandwich, when my friends asked me what was wrong, I couldn’t even explain what it was that hurt me so.

Even Papá, loving and kind as he could be, made Mamá feel small when he told her that having to sell her floral shop in Mexico, so we could come here, wasn’t as great a loss as him losing his career as a police officer. “What’s selling a few flowers to a few abuelitas to putting my life on the line, to upholding law and order every day?” he’d ask. And she would say nothing in return, just smile soft and sad, plopping a scoop of rice onto his plate. It took me years to understand that sadness in her smile.

𖤓

Driving down highway 40, with the windows down, my hair whipping in the wind, and all the desert dust mixing with the faint, floral smell of my shampoo, I feel like I have been mainlining that sadness for the last five hundred miles. Because from the moment I met Ezekiel Reyes, I did not see it coming. It’s not that there weren’t red flags as with all the other boys. But he had a way of making it seem like they were all a force of circumstance. Gee, how did those get there? Someone must have put those up when I wasn’t looking. He was sensitive, compassionate, smarter than anyone I had ever met, and troubled in a way he seemed not to be responsible for.

I should have trusted my instincts. I should have listened to my mother’s advice. But EZ Reyes is also one of the best liars I have ever known. People who lie best are the ones who believe the lie first themselves. That is what he did. It was easy. So it was easy to believe him.

On the road, when it gets dark, I start to see his eyes like they were the last time I saw him. They are every pair of headlights in the rear view mirror: two voids with a kind of frigid, lifeless pain inside. Any echo of the love between us snuffed out, washed away, sterilized like a surgeon’s scalpel. Nevermind that candle in my heart might have burned for him forever. But it seems we do not love the same way.

One of my hands comes off the wheel to touch the spot at my ribs on the left side where he had held the gun. A shot I would have never seen coming, were it not for Angel’s screaming and tackling us both to the ground, shoving me away, telling me to run as fast as I could and never look back. If only I had fallen for that big lug instead of Ezekiel. But that one wore his red flags on his sleeve, screamed them from a mile away. That honesty I misjudged as a warning was really an asset. Porque Angel no podía mentir una mierda, ni siquiera a sí mismo. But we cannot help who we love.

Wiping sweat from my forehead, I pass a mile marker and then a bigger sign: eleven miles to Albuquerque. Good because Angel’s check engine light has turned on and I need gas. I drag my hand across my forehead again. Leave it to Angel to have a car with no AC. Well, no. I remind myself I’m no fool. The car probably wasn’t his. They would’ve stolen it before they got to the hospital.

The sun has been beating down on me through the driver’s side window, relentless and my face is so damp, I can’t seem to tell the difference between the sweat and the tears that periodically drop down to dot my cheeks. I stopped bothering to wipe those all the way back in Tucson. The dust has stuck to them too, so the skin on my face is stiff and my lips have a grainy feel to them. There is something about it that I like, that feels tangible. Algo sobre la tierra en mis lágrimas es un consuelo, y en mi dolor me hice sentir menos sola.

My cellphone buzzes in my bag. Low battery. It is a miracle it has lasted this long. Perhaps my last tether to civilization, I wonder if I shouldn’t let it die and disappear from my old life completely. No, with Mamá back home there is no old or new life. I escaped Santo Padre with the only one I have. Angel said he would get word to her, let her know I was okay, tell her where I was going. A place I didn’t even know.

Once I hit the city limits, I reach in my pocket and pull out the crinkled cardboard pack, an empty cigarette box Angel had hastily scribbled an Albuquerque address on. I triple check to make sure I have remembered it correctly, then take the fourth exit.

𖤓

After I left Angel and EZ, grappling with each other on that hilltop by the hospital, I went to Mercedes’ house to hole up. It was a dingy little duplex not far from the hospital but EZ didn’t know where it was and that’s what mattered. It was kind of funny. I had not expected Angel to follow up, texting me, asking if I was okay, where I was. But he did. Even after I told him, I had not expected him to do anything with that information, certainly not stop by or send someone. But he did. So, when a knock came at the front door, in a frenzy, I lurched off the couch and lunged for the baseball bat that I’d taken from the coat closet earlier and set against the front door before dozing off. Glancing through the peephole, I half expected to see EZ's cold, hard eyes, peering back at me across the threshold of warped glass. Mercifully, it was somebody else. Someone I didn’t recognize. Judging by the kutte over his hoodie and the large black script inked on his neck that spelled Mayans, another proud member of the club. Someone I had not met before. He stood in front of the door, hood up, hands clasped in front of him at attention, almost like a bouncer at a nightclub but without the air of compensation. On the contrary, he was at ease, almost serene when I swung open the screen door, wild-eyed and bat in hand. “Are you Gaby?” He'd barely batted an eye. I nodded slowly. “Angel sent me with some stuff for you.” I furrowed my brow, suspicious but too frazzled to form words. “Yeah, uh— He wanted to deliver this himself, but homie had to take care of that trifling, mocoso cagado brother of his, chase that motherfucker back down to Santo Padre. But I stuck around, so he sent me instead.” He extended his hand. “I’m Manny.” With some hesitation, I set the bat down and shook his hand, then motioned to allow him inside. He refused, head rattling from side to side. “Nah, I don’t— I can’t stay long. Just wanted to give you these.” He held out the crumpled cigarette box and the keys to 'Angel’s' car, dropping them in the palm of my hand. Through tears that I wasn’t even aware had begun to fall, I joked tiredly, “So, I narrowly escape getting killed by the love of my life and Angel thinks I’m ready to take up smoking?” “Yea, right? Guess when you cheat death, seems as good a time as any to pick up a habit that causes terminal illness.” Manny stuffed his hands in his hoodie pockets and leaned against the doorway, eyes cast down, chuckling at the ground. “Nah, actually there’s an address on it. A guy we know in New Mexico from a job Yuma and Santo Padre did with him a while back. His people’ll take care of you.” “Who is it?” “His name— well, he’s a guy who’s connected enough in Mexico that EZ can’t come after you there. Y’know, bad for business.” With a knowing smirk, he tipped his head, “Si me sientes.” There seemed a reluctance to say this man’s name outright but I couldn't understand why. Oh, right. Connected in Mexico. One of the cartels. So more of that then. Standing in the doorway with my arms crossed, at the manic pace only akin to that of an animal backed into a corner, I evaluated the options presented to me now. Could this truly be my only one? Something else my mother used to say was already at the tip of my tongue. “Lo peligroso que es ser una mujer enamorada.”** I began to cry harder now and Manny’s head snapped back up to look at me. “Aw easy now, ma,” he said gently, stepping closer to brush a tear from my cheek with the back of his hand. “Todo estará bien.” I nodded weakly before choking out through something that was halfway between a laugh and a sob, “I know this is a weird question but— pero ya puedes abrazarme?” He smiled softly, stepping back with open arms, and the moment my head hit the shoulder of this kind stranger, I came apart at the seams.

𖤓

It had only been two days on the road but the writing on the cigarette package is already faded, probably from so much time spent folded up in the pocket of my jeans.

6611 Zuni Rd SE,

Albuquerque, NM

ask 4 grumpyass mf named Varga

I am not sure why I bother to keep looking at it when I have the address memorized, seared in my brain because I had charted my route the old fashioned way, on a map I got from a gas station back in Lodi. A measure that seems silly now given that my phone is still somehow clinging to life.

I pull into the parking lot of 6611 Zuni Road and slide into an open spot, of which there are many. Business does not appear to be booming. In quaint, Hot-Rod red cursive along the top of the building, it reads “Tapizados, Custom Upholstery, Reparación.” Auto upholstery. As good a front as any, I suppose.

My nerves are fried and the entrance of the shop taunts me while I stare at it, trying to figure out how to smoke out this Varga. It would’ve been helpful to have more than just a name. Was it a first? A last? Based on what little was in the note, Varga could be a woman for all I know. Although Manny had specifically said it was a guy. Tracing the hastily scribbled address on the wilted cardboard, I am filled with warmth, reminded of my gratitude to Angel for doing the best he could with what he had. I can do the rest. I simply have to.

A broken bell clangs pitifully as the door of the shop closes behind me. It is empty of customers and seemingly, anyone who might work there. There is another bell on the counter and I wonder if that one is broken too. If it isn’t, with the Norteño music blaring in a room in the back with a bunch of tables with sewing machines, I wonder if anyone would hear it. Before I get a chance to find out, two men in matching uniforms arguing in the parking lot outside catch my attention. Partly because they’re arguing but largely because they both seem to be wearing matching uniforms, an indication yes, someone indeed ran this fine establishment and didn’t leave it to the norteño corridos to manage.

An older man with a thick, dark head of hair and a dark mustache alternates between pinching his forehead and speaking through gritted teeth to a younger man with hair buzzed so short, he looks almost bald, whose back is turned to me. Mustache man looks to be the boss and when the other man steps aside for a moment, I spot the name on his shirt. M. Varga. Simón! Él es un gruñón de verdad like Angel said. He looks just like another gruñón I know too. In fact, if his hair wasn’t so dark, I might have actually mistaken him for Felipe Reyes. He shared the same proud nose, perpetually furrowed brow, and lines etched deep into his forehead that say he’s had someone important to worry about for a very long time. Who was this Varga’s someone?

More heated now, Señor Varga points to the building and I think I can make out the words 'vuelve ahí dentro' coming out of his mouth. Exasperated, the younger, short-haired man throws his hands on his hips and tips his head back, as if pleading with the sky but whatever the old man has said trumps his silent negotiation with the Above. Varga throws him a set of keys and shoos him in the direction of the shop before stalking off back to the garage.

It takes me too long to realize I am staring. The short-haired guy makes it to the sidewalk in front of the windows, but by then it is too late to play it off like I’m just a clueless customer. Swinging my purse from one shoulder to the other, I attempt to anyway, and turn to examine the fabric swatches hanging on the walls and the stand full of pamphlets about “The Wonders of Kaptex!” and “Chrome-Tanned Whole Cowhides!” leafing through as if I know what I am looking at. The look of confusion on my face is the only honest thing about it. I have no idea what I am doing here, in more ways than one.

The short-haired man walks in, sighing heavily as the broken bell claps against the door handle, making another pitiful, pinched sound. It is not until he turns around to put something in the register that I finally see the name on his uniform. I. Varga.

Qué se chinga, of course there is two of them. Of course.

I nearly tear the cigarette box yanking it out of my pocket to study it again in the hopes I have missed some detail, some clue Angel might have left to differentiate the two Vargas. But no. There it sits, staring back at me, the same phrase I’ve read repeatedly, over and over and over: Ask 4 grumpyass mf named Varga. The qualifier doesn’t even help. They both seem equally grumpy. Could I just ask? Would Angel or Manny have thought ahead to let this Varga know I was coming?

A voice cuts through my panic. “‘Scuse me, miss? Something I can help you with?”

My head snaps up to meet a look of cool intensity from the younger Varga. He was younger sure, but I couldn’t venture a guess as to how old he might really be because even asking the most mundane of questions, there is something heavy in the tone of his voice and a weariness in his eyes that betray the gaze of a boy aged beyond his years by forces out of his control. I know this look. I am well acquainted with this look, yes. The headlights in the rearview mirror on the drive here flash in my mind. But there is a softness in this one’s eyes that I don’t remember EZ having. Not even in the beginning. By the time I finally understood, it would do me no good, but everything about Ezekiel Reyes was hard. And always had been.

All of a sudden, I am self-conscious, unsure of how long I’ve been standing there, not saying a word in response. Taking a deep breath, I finally open my mouth to answer, but instead of words, what comes out is some kind of throttled sigh.

“Prefieres que hablamos en español?” He is polite but with enough of an edge of impatience that it does nothing to distinguish him as the less grumpy of the two Vargas.

“A mí no me importa,” I shrug, trying my best to seem casual. “Puedo hablar de los dos.”

“O sí? Pues la podría preguntarte de nuevo pero ya sabrás que es la misma en ambos.”

Maybe this Varga is more prickly than grumpy. Would Angel know the difference? Probably not.

“Hmm,” I hum. He seems skeptical, so I switch to English. Two can play this game. “Huh? Yes. Yeah. Actually yes. I need- I’m looking for someone na—“ I start heading toward the counter but in the process, my purse swings to one side, knocking over the wire display of pamphlets. Varga is nice enough to come around from the counter to help me pick them up off the ground, even if he is chuckling to himself at my expense.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what-” I pause, closing my eyes, searching for the words. “I have not slept much. I just came here all the way from California and did not make many stops.”

Varga picks up the last of the pamphlets and with a resigned smirk on his face, offers his hand. “Ah, well, you wouldn’t be the only person to end up in ABQ who’s running from something.” I accept and he pulls me to my feet.

On his way back around the counter, he shoots me the look of a parent worried their kid is going to tear through the candy aisle at the grocery store. Pointing to a technicolor display of stacked, neatly wrapped, little trees, I laugh. “Oh, not the car fresheners. It looks like someone went to a lot of trouble to make these look nice,” I tease, holding up my hands in defeat. “I’ll keep my distance.”

Varga shakes his head, suppressing a laugh like he doesn’t want me to know I have said anything he’d find funny. He resumes doing whatever he was doing at the register. Not sure what to do with myself, I just stand there, watching him, moving the cash trays to the back counter, industriously counting the bills, scribbling in some kind of ledger. Without turning to look at me, he calls out, “So, you were saying?”

“Sorry?”

“You were about to say you were looking for someone right before you decided to go full Jenga with my pamphlets over there.”

“Oh,” I blow a puff of hair out of my lips, sending stray pieces of hair that have fallen out of my ponytail floating above my forehead. Glancing around the empty store, something in me snaps and I decide. Why not? What is the worst that could happen? I say the wrong thing to the wrong person and they kill me for it? They’d have to get in line. I am already on borrowed time and dancing around the issue might only serve to end that time. Entonces a la verga con esa chingadera. So I shoot my shot. The contact my hand makes as it smacks down on the counter with the mangled cigarette box is loud enough to surprise Varga. He stops and spins around.

“Alright, I have danced with death,” I hold my index finger and thumb up together and squint my eyes, “once this week already. I have also been driving for two days straight. I am exhausted. And you know what? Truthfully, I have never been good at this– hmm, what is it called? Playing my cards close to the chest? I never had to be. So, I'm going to come right out and say it. My name is Gaby Castillo. I came here from Lodi, California. My ex-boyfriend is EZ Reyes from the Santo Padre chapter of the Mayans motorcycle club. Two days ago,” the lump in my throat hurts as I swallow it, but still choke up despite myself, “he tried to kill me. His brother, Angel Reyes, told me to lie low here in case he tried to come after me again.”

Instead of the appropriate shock one would express at the stream of insanity I just blurted out to a perfect stranger, he seems entirely undisturbed. Just as I'm about to give over to reassurance at his calmness, it all at once becomes more jarring that he has no reaction. My heart kicks up, pounding so rapidly, I wonder if it’s visible from the outside, if he can see it's picked up speed.

Aggravated by the silence, I snap my fingers in front of his face, grumbling, “Uh, hello? Does any of this sound familiar?”

Face impassive, he crosses his arms and just keeps staring at me before finally breaking the silence with one infuriating word. “Vest.”

“Mm? Pardon?”

“You said chest. You meant vest.”

He is like a brick wall. I am still not getting it.

“You meant vest. You said,” he flattens his hand bringing it down to punctuate the end of each phrase, “‘playing your cards close to the chest.’ The expression is ‘playing your cards close to the vest.’ Like back in the day, old guys playing Poker in saloons and shit.”

How dumb must I look, standing there, eyes narrowed, mouth gaping open in disbelief that we are calmly discussing grammar after everything I said? The motorcycle club? The attempted murder? I can only imagine. He does not even seem to notice. What’s more infuriating, he turns back around to the money trays and the ledger and continues talking at me like that. “Yeah, yeah, I got a call from Manny, told me someone was coming. I remember those Reyes brothers too. One of them’s a wiseass and one of them’s a dipstick. Which one almost killed you?”

Poor Angel. My cheeks are burning and my chest floods with indignation on his behalf. “Angel is not a di–” the word is new to me and comes out of my mouth clumsy, “dip-ssstick.”

Varga’s shoulders rattle as he chuckles, “So it was the dipstick,” nodding to himself like he’s just shared some private joke that he happens to also find hilarious.

I roll my eyes and turn my back to him so I can lean against the counter. My head sinks back to look at the ceiling and now I’m the one who’s pleading with the sky. “No, it wasn’t the d– no, not Angel. He’s the one who saved me, told me to come here for help. Not that I would call,” I wave my hand around at nothing in particular, “whatever this has been, 'help.'”

Varga says nothing, so I continue. “No, it was the other one. Ezekiel. EZ. He’s the one who– well.” I stop, my thoughts invaded again by Ezekiel's eyes in the headlights, this time mixed with flashes of that night on the beach. How soft and gentle his fingertips were on my shoulders. How cold the barrel of his gun felt pressed into my side. Tears begin streaking from the corners of my eyes. With my head back like that, they drip down across my temples and into my hairline.

Another pair of fingertips gently brushes my shoulder. I jerk forward violently and turn around to see Varga on the other side of the counter, with his hands up, as if to say, 'oh god, don’t shoot.'

“Hey, look. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so— such a dick. I forget what it’s like for people not—” he wavers, running his hand up and down the back of his head, searching for the words, “well, normal people. People not in our business.”

I scoff, "Normal. That's funny, normal."

He looks at me perplexed, waiting for me to clarify. But I can't even begin. So, staring at the air fresheners almost catatonic, I simply say, "Normal is not what I feel."

Varga seems to accept this well enough because he starts putting the cash trays back in the register and locks them up with the ledger. On his way back around the counter, he grabs his car keys and motions for me to follow him. “C’mon.”

He stops at the door once he realizes I am not following him. More speaking to the door than to me, he calls out, “Yo, you coming or what?”

“Coming? Coming where?”

In an oddly graceful gesture, he spins around, arms swinging, coming to rest on his hips, as he tips one out to the side. “You like milkshakes?”

“Do I like—?”

“Milkshakes. Y'know, milk, ice cream, they blend it all up with like chocolate or strawberry or confetti sprinkles or whatever sugary shit people like. How do we feel about them.”

“I mean—” I shrug. “Who doesn’t like milkshakes.”

“Great.” He nods, with a small smile on his face that reaches his eyes for the first time. It softens his otherwise prickly demeanor, exposing a charm so authentic in its self consciousness, it is plain to see he doesn’t smile with true joy often. Something clicks just then and it occurs to me: what if he’s the someone the senior Varga, M. Varga, has had to worry about all these years? He turns back around, grabbing the door handle. “Let’s get a milkshake.”

“Wait.”

I watch his shoulders rise and fall, an unmistakable sigh of frustration. A reaction I immediately resent. “Hey.” I cross my arms. “No mames, hombre. Like it is unreasonable for me to be uncertain about letting a perfect stranger take me to some unknown location, in a town I have never been to before, for a mystery milkshake.”

Turning back around, he strolls slowly over to me, smirking and fiddling with his keys. “Mystery milkshake, huh?"

Still unamused, my eyebrows are halfway up my forehead. I wait.

“Yeah alright, you got me there. But I think I’ve got a solution for that. You said your name's Gaby, right?” I bob my head once and he holds out his hand. “My name’s Nacho.” He seems to take notice of my eyes darting to the name tag on his uniform. “Well, Ignacio, but no one calls me that.” Leaning forward, voice dropping low and quiet, he pleads like it’s a secret. “Yeah, please don’t call me that, seriously.”

I can’t help but smile, accepting his hand. Though firm, it's also warm and softer than I expect, sending goosebumps up my forearm that take me by surprise.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” I beam at him, our hands moving up and down in tandem, "Señor Not-Ignacio Varga.”

“Oh good,” he says, smile deflating slightly as he cocks an eyebrow. “Another comedian. Remind me never to introduce you to Lalo.”

It seems I’m already treading dangerous ground, but that only makes me beam at him more. “Who is Lalo? And why should you never to introduce us?”

“Pues,” he looks me up and down, assessing me before rolling his eyes, “hay muchas razones pero la primera? Eres demasiado guapa y chistosa para conocer a un hombre peligroso así. But he’d sure think you’re— I dunno, something.”

O, demasiado guapa? Nacho is becoming more interesting by the minute. “Hmm, well–," I muse as he turns to open the door. "And what does Not-Ignacio think?”

He shoots me a look like don’t go there through half lidded eyes. It is the first time I notice how long his eyelashes are. Tú eres guapísimo también. He seems like the type to not really know it. Or at least, the type to be unconcerned with it anyway. Of course it’s just a hunch, but for some reason it warms me to him even more. Nothing like the Reyes boys. Well, except Felipe, who had never seemed especially preoccupied with his appearance.

“Okay, okay,” I put my hands up, “last time, I swear. So, what does Nacho think?”

“I think...” he takes a long pause while holding the door open for me, scratching his head like he is considering the question with genuine sincerity. “I think ..... thaaat it’s time for a milkshake.”

Stepping outside into the simmering Albuquerque sun, it is my turn to roll my eyes. But for some reason, I decide to up the anti by crinkling my nose and sticking my tongue out at him like a petulant child. Maybe it’s the sleeplessness, or maybe it’s just nice to talk to someone after 3 days of running. On the road alone. He laughs at me, letting the door slam shut, and waves me over, in the direction of his car.

Despite my pretend annoyance, I walk around to the passenger’s side of Nacho Varga’s car and a feeling hits me as suddenly as a flashbulb of an old camera: relief. For the first time since I left Lodi, I finally feel like I just might be okay.

As it turns out, I am right. I would be okay. Just not before all hell breaks loose.

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taglist: @narcolini

#Gabrielle Castillo x Ignacio “Nacho” Varga #gaby castillo #nacho varga #better call saul #mayans mc #crossover AU pairing #rarepairs exchange 2023 #shockingly not narcos mexico #ignacio nacho varga #yoyoyo #148- 3 to the 3 #to the 6 to the 9 #representing the ABQ #whaaaddup biatc????#leave it at the tone

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queenofthedisneyverse · 6 months

Text

El camaleón desaparecido - Encanto au

TW: mentions of manipulation, character death, scars, angst, and just overall being mean/horrible to a child. (child abduction maybe?)

Main themes/inspiration - Anastasia, Cinderella, Snow white, Hunchback of Notre dame, and Rapunzel.

The story starts out with Camilo being born a prince to the magical Madrigal family. It was his fifth birthday and ceremony day. Things were going wonderfully as expected to be. Camilo was exploring his gift and having fun with his friends/family at the same time. Nothing could make this moment more perfect.

But…good things can never last. Right under the ruler's nose, a small but big group of Encanto’s citizens decided that today was the day to storm the castle and get rid of the madrigals.

You see, at first there was a small rumor that went around. A rumor that instead of using Pedro’s Miracle, Alma was using witchcraft and managed to give her children gifts. Why would Pedro just give his family magic when everyone was forced to leave their home AND lost people they loved?

That’s just downright selfish and Pedro was known as a good man in his life. Surely, he would have given everyone manage to give everyone magic right? So, Alma must be using witchcraft or keeping the magic all to herself. And soon, this rumor turned into another rumor. A rumor that the Madrigals were soon going to use their powers against the good people of Encanto and make them their slaves.

One thing led to another, and paranoia started rising amongst the people of Encanto. Selfish witches what they “are”. One day, a very jealous villager decided to pull a stunt on Isabela’s tenth birthday (a year before Camilo’s). A man who knew his way around smoke bombs, disappearing acts, and makeup.

Let’s just say he spouted a lot of nonsense but simultaneously striking a little bit of fear in people. Before guards could catch him he released a smoke bomb and disappeared without a trace.

And now, on December 28th, 1780, El Castillo de los Madrigal was being raided by foul people. The guards could only keep so many people at bay before they burst through and were out for Madrigal blood.…So much happened that day. So much innocent blood shed and brutal harm given to those who didn’t deserve it.

In the end…some Madrigals didn’t make it out alive. But after much fighting and blood spilling, the guards and many friends/distant relatives of the Madrigals, managed to kill or prison all those accountable for going against the queen. (But this took a whole lot of effort)

But…one child was unaccounted for…Camilo. No one could find him. They searched the castle and the village all over and…he just wasn’t there. Someone surely took him, and judging by what happened, he was surely killed and dumped somewhere by one of those hateful villagers.

But in reality…he ran away. He was a five year old boy who didn’t understand what was going on, he just knew this was wrong and he was scared. And these weird scary looking people that he didn’t know were trying to catch him (and stranger danger wasn’t an unfamiliar thing in la casa madrigal). The party had been going on outside of the castle (think of a large garden area). And the closest thing he could run to was the forest. So that’s where he went. He ran far, as far as he could.

To the point where he slipped and fell into a fast deep river. The river led to a huge waterfall where he fell down and hit his head on a rock at the bottom. By the time he woke up…he was in an unfamiliar room and had no clue who he was.

Camilo was adopted by a woman named Gabriela Alcarez. She has two daughters named Marcela and Emilia. Gabriela is a mix of Lady Tremaine and Mother Gothel, and the daughters are obviously Anastasia and Drizella. Gabriela is 54, Marcela is eighteen, and Emilia is sixteen (both girls by two different men).

Gabriella makes Camilo do all the housework; Dishes, mopping, sweeping, mending of clothes, making breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She has her own way of making Camilo think she’s making him do all of those things out of love.

“Mi baby, you do all of these things so you can be a great husband one day. All men do these things out of love for their mothers, sisters, and wives. You do love us don’t you?”

She always buys the girls nice things and has Camilo make his own clothes. “A real man is resourceful” type bullsh!t. He’s also never allowed passed the mansion gates.

“It’s too scary and people will do anything to get their hands on a resourceful boy like you” type bs as well. Not to mention she’ll make him think he’s “too ugly” to be seen out in the world. People will “laugh and throw things” at him. Why? He has a scar from the top of his forehead, across his right eye, and down to the tip of his jaw.

He also has another scar on the left side of his scalp but it’s covered by hair. But why would she tell him he’s learning to be a husband but he’s too ugly to be seen by the public?

“Don’t worry mijo, I’ll find a girl who’ll love you for your…other better qualities”

His room is in a literal tower. His sisters get a pretty big room with big windows while he gets a tight, cramped, room with a very small window.

Even through all that, he still tries being himself and happy. He reads fairy tale books, shakespeare, paints, makes his own clothes from his sisters old dresses (think ragged boho and scrap patches). He’s still easy going and chill but his mischievous tendencies are suppressed to keep his mother and sisters happy.

His room is very colorful though. Beautiful scenes of different fairy tales painted on the walls.

Camilo does have a few pets. Two mice, a chicken, three horses, and a chameleon who he actively does talk to. (I mean, who else is he going to talk to? People? ). The mice are Dulce and Ricardo. The horses are Elena, Joaquin, and Andres. The chicken is Chickpea, and the chameleon is Princesa (reference to midcanto).

Gabriella is fully aware that he’s a madrigal, that’s why she keeps him deep in the forest in her large family mansion. When it comes to occasional visitors, Camilo is told to either stay in his room or clean somewhere far enough in the mansion where the visitor(s) doesn’t see him.

He is allowed outside but never passes the garden gates. It’s a long, wide, and pretty garden. Full of flowers of all types. There are specific ones that draw Cami to them, more so because of the colors. Magenta, green, orange, teal, dark navy blue, purple/pink, and red specifically.

But don't most fairy tale books have evil stepmoms? Surely he would’ve figured this behavior isn’t normal.

The boy only has the book of Mulan, Brave, the frog prince, The little mermaid, sleeping beauty, and others that don’t include evil stepmothers. Gabriella may be evil, but she isn’t stupid. She’s not going to give her servant ideas of revolt/rebellion through books of all things.

The three women often go to fabulous balls while Camilo stays at home. The most he asks for is just the details; the dancing, gowns, food, people, etc. And all three of them tell him everything he wants to know, but it’s more like bragging or “I’ll tell you everything that YOU will never be able to do” kind of way.

Gabriela told him that once he turns eighteen, he’ll be able to go out someday. But she knows he’ll never want to because of how “ugly” he is. He’s too dependent on her “love” because he thinks no one else will love him.

I need ideas for this au so feel free to ask questions or send in suggestions!

#camilo madrigal #encanto au #au

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thereesespiece · 1 year

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Shuffle your ‘on repeat’ playlist and post the first ten tracks, then tag ten people.

Thank you for tagging me bestie @cantseemtohide 💜

I don't use Spotify, I use Apple Music because I'm a snob and must have Apple everything 🫣

I used my '23 Replay list and got 🥁

Volvi - Aventura ft Bad Bunny

La Bachata - Manuel Turizo

Ay Amor - Gabriella [no but really go listen to at least this one!]

Call Me By Your Name - Sophie Castillo [and this one too!]

No Me Ame - Anuel AA Juice Wrld Rvssian

Incondicional - Prince Royce

Un Beso - Kamel y Lanier

Quien Sabe - Natti Natasha

Mas Que Tu Amigo - Marco Antonio Solis

Quien Dijo - Ivy Queen

The most recent homies from my notifs but of course feel free to skip!

@nectar-cellar @nilonne @micrathene-w @simadelics @marshmellowpixels @oasivy @aries-sims @damseljamsel

#tag you're it

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packagecfgirlyevil-a · 2 years

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making two new muses because i’m unstoppable so like / reply if you want a starter from:

gabriella ( gabi ) castillo - drummer / podcaster ( aimee carrero )

luna moreno - stylist / aspiring fashion designer ( melissa barrera )

#↛ starter call.#gonna need to make my official list today

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agendaculturaldelima · 2 months

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#ElEscenarioDelMundo

🎭 Teatro-Perfomance: “DISCURSO DE PROMOCIÓN [REVISADO]”📜👊💪🇵🇪

🗯 Argumento: Una actividad pro fondos de los alumnos de quinto de secundaria del Colegio Nacional 2021, da inicio a esta propuesta escénica de Yuyachkani. La obra, en una nueva versión revisada, se presentará este mes de julio en la semana de Fiestas Patrias, con cinco últimas funciones, en la Casa de Yuyachkani, en Magdalena del Mar. La puesta en escena parte de re pensar lo que significa la independencia del Perú, tomando como punto de partida el cuadro de Juan Lepiani, donde se da lugar a libertadores, militares y la iglesia, frente a un pueblo casi sin rostro. “Este cuadro es insuficiente, este escenario es insuficiente, esta obra es insuficiente” proclama una de las actrices. En el último año de las conmemoraciones por el Bicentenario de la Independencia, Yuyachkani hace de “Discurso de Promoción” una propuesta que mira el Perú desde su posición en el mundo, revisando el gran listado de pendientes que la República aún nos debe.

👥 Elenco: Daniel Cano García, Augusto Casafranca, Ana Correa, Ricardo Delgado, Raul Duran, Gabriella Paredes Rodríguez, María Rebeca Ralli Mejía, Teresa Ralli, Jano Siles, Silvia Tomotaki, Carlos Julián Vargas Arellano, Dafne Collazos Castillo, Sebastián Bellina Zagazeta y Juan José Guerrero.

📢 Dirección: Miguel Rubio Zapata

▶️Vídeo Promocional: https://youtu.be/7zilmUivJgs

📌 TEMPORADA:

📆 Del 25 al 29 de Julio

🕗 8:00pm.

🏡 Casa Yuyachkani (jr. Tacna 363, altura de av. Brasil cdra. 41 - Magdalena del Mar)

🏷️ Entradas:

🎟 Adulto: S/.40

🎟 Estudiante: S/.30

📧 Reservas: [email protected]

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eternablade · 9 months

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ABOUT. last updated: 12/31/2023

NAME. leon castillo NICKNAMES. lee, the unbeatable champ (formerly) TITLES. pokemon trainer, head of the battle tower (formerly known as rose tower), pokemon champion (formerly), galar league chairman. GENDER. cis male AGE. twenty-eight BIRTHDAY. february 14th SEXUALITY. homosexual NATIONALITY. galarian PARENTS. gabriella castillo / mother. sterling castillo / father. (deceased) SIBLING(s). hop / brother. OTHER. iris / cousin. drayden / adoptive uncle.

HEIGHT. 5'11" / 180.34 cm WEIGHT. 174 lbs BODY TYPE. muscular, toned, lean. herculean-leaning but not overtly so. broad in chest and shoulders with a tight, trim waist, he is diligent in maintaining this level of fitness. it isn’t uncommon for him to be found in one of the few, rare times he visits his childhood home working out in his old bedroom in between family time. HAIR. a deep, rich purple. it is natural (as per anime logic), and it is a thing of pride for him. he began to grow it out after his father’s passing when he was nine, and has maintained it ever since. he doesn’t, however, allow it to grow much longer than its current state, finding it manageable as it is. it is thick with natural waves and surprisingly soft despite its seemingly wild appearance. he is far from the type to use a one-size-fits-all shampoo treatment and has a thorough hair care routine. EYES. a brilliant gold. he and hop get their stunning eye color from their mother, which leon is always quick to bring up whenever he is complimented on it. SCAR(s). while blessed currently in his youth that his wounds typically heal quickly and without permanent mark, nevertheless does he still bear a few annoying scars that serve as reminders of his occasional… recklessness. on his chest flares out a broad burn scar, on his right bicep remain the imprints of fangs, and he still has wounds healing from his battle with eternatus. MENTAL. suffers from ptsd after the eternatus and darkest day incident. he does arrange sessions with a therapist, but rarely appears due to an insistence of being busy with the battle tower and other projects involving the galar league. charizard serves as an incredible support when triggers flare up.

PERSONALITY. the ever-resilient former champion leon, to his beloved public and fanbase, he is renowned for his upbeat energy, his persistently positive attitude, and his insistence on everyone having a champion time! to those who know him on a far more personal level, leon is a man far more down to earth, someone you can easily confess your worries and fears to and not only get a listening ear, but solid advice from someone who seems to know you inside and out. he is a brother, a friend, a protector—but the pressures of becoming a champion of an entire region at the mere age of ten was something crushing.

it took him a long, long time to rediscover himself, to become the reliable leon that he had come to be known as. the world only ever knew him as champion leon, and soon enough, it was all he could remember too—until it was stripped from him.

after taking so many years to build up finally feeling at ease in the skin of this public persona, suddenly, he is having to learn what it is like without it when he had formed his whole person around the championship. a bit quieter, a bit more distant, perpetually lost in neverending thought, the bright, buoyant champion leon is just a memory drifting away as the leon of the present tries to carve out a path for himself that, for once, is not being dictated by someone else.

KEY POKEMON. his ace is currently cleo, a luxray gifted as a shinx cub by a sponsor. after a tragic accident mid-battle, one of charizard's wings was irreparably damaged, and to avoid further catastrophe, it was agreed upon by leon and the pokemon center nurses in charge of his care to retire him.

charizard (or 'zar' as he often refers to him as) has been his companion since childhood, and still serves as an emotional aid. he kept him safe during the eternatus incident, and leon is highly over-protective of him.

cleo, his ace, was a gift as aforementioned. he and her got on like a house on fire initially, until she evolved. 'terrible two's' are a real thing for pokemon trainers with a team member with a three stage evolution, and cleo as luxio was a fine example of that. after an incident during a 'bonding' trip out into the galar wilderness, she evolved into luxray, and she and leon have been tightly bonded ever since.

his other team members are seismitoad, mr. ryme, aegislash, and dragapult. former team members include rillaboom, cinderace, and inteleon, all of which were gifted to hop to aid in his professor pursuits. he tries to maintain a smaller team to avoid having to 'box'/bench any members, and when he feels it is time for a pokemon to move on, he will go out of his way to ensure they find a fulfilling new partner.

charizard is almost permanently out of his pokeball, when possible, as is cleo.

#about/

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campastoria-story · 1 year

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——— ATTENTION, CAMPERS!

Located below are the cabin assignments for the 2023 Summer Season. Please reach out to @ca-admin if there are any questions.

BIRCH CABIN

Junior Counselor: Max Parker Junior Counselor: Xavier Howard Senior Counselor: Graham Foster

Jacob Cooper

Michael Gray

Noah Carter

Joshua Phillips

Christopher Perez

Ethan Myers

OAK CABIN

Junior Counselor: Ian Kim Junior Counselor: Evan Ramirez Senior Counselor: Bentley Cox

Noah Smith

Jayden Young

William Reyes

Liam Murphy

Matthew Johnson

Oliver Brown

MAPLE CABIN

Junior Counselor: Julian Peterson Junior Counselor: Seth Hughes Senior Counselor: Adrian Green

Caleb Hill

Jackson Ruiz

Benjamin Long

Ethan Ross

Declan Cook

Owen Brooks

ASPEN CABIN

Junior Counselor: Atticus Wood Junior Counselor: Tristan Thomas Senior Counselor: Cooper Reed

Alexander Wright

Gabriel Mendoza

Levi Diaz

Connor Bailey

Cade Rivera

Sebastian Roberts

PINE CABIN

Junior Counselor: August Flores Junior Counselor: Luca White Senior Counselor: Lincoln Castillo

Finn Sanchez

Isaac Bennet

Wyatt Kelly

Miles Scott

Luke Gomez

Carter Davis

DAISY CABIN

Junior Counselor: Ruby Morales Junior Counselor: Paige Prince Senior Counselor: Sienna Alvarez

Emily Harris

Hannah Mitchell

Madison Clark

Ashley Walker

Sarah Turner

Isabella Edwards

TULIP CABIN

Junior Counselor: Fiona Robinson Junior Counselor: Autumn Jones Senior Counselor: Gabriella Miller

Sophia Richardson

Emma Allen

Ava King

Charlotte Gutierrez

Amelia Garcia

Sophie James

POPPY CABIN

Junior Counselor: Sophie Wilson Junior Counselor: Quinn Adams Senior Counselor: Alexis Colbert

Aria Thompson

Olivia Moore

Scarlett Lee

Emma Martin

Chloe Lewis

Claire Cruz

ROSE CABIN

Junior Counselor: Ivy Ward Junior Counselor: Evangeline Baker Senior Counselor: Gemma Morgan

Ella Morris

Norah Rogers

Lilah Patel

Evelyn Hall

Hazel Campbell

Cora Stewart

ORCHID CABIN

Junior Counselor: Willow Williams Junior Counselor: Zoe Collins Senior Counselor: Brooklyn Nguyen

Clara Taylor

Adeline Watson

Layla Sanders

Aurora Nelson

Genevieve Torres

Rosalie Anderson

#ca!alert #cabin assignments

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cafeinayletrasweb · 2 years

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Estadísticas de lectura de Octubre

¡Buenas gentes!

Voy a iniciar esta sección, en la que echo la vista atrás para comentaros qué tal me fueron las lecturas durante el mes anterior.

---✨

Libros que quería leer ese mes y los que realmente he leído.

Nueve libros que me quería leer, entre ellos ejemplares de dos clubes de lectura distintos, como lo son el que aún desconocía el título porque la propuesta se haría a mitad de mes y «La última casa en Needless Street», de Catriona Ward.

«Drácula» es una relectura y lo tenía a medias cuando me pilló Noviembre y algo parecido me ocurrió con «Cómo sobrevivir a la escritura», de Gabriella Campbell.

También me propuse leer una novela gráfica, como lo es «Persépolis», de Marjane Satrapi, que hacía unos meses que no leía una.

«La vida invisible de Addie LaRue», de V. E. Schwab iniciaba una sección nueva en la web y en redes sociales. Hay mucho libro que ha tenido una repercusión bestial en dichas redes y quería comprobar de primera mano si su fama es merecida o no.

«Forjada en la tormenta», de David B. Gil y «Astillas en la piel», de Cesar Pérez Gellida, los llevo arrastrando desde junio-julio, y es que entre clubes y retos lectores, los he ido postergando.

Por último, «Siempre hemos vivido en el castillo», de Shirley Jackson, era mi lectura de terror y de autora del mes, pero también mi propuesta para uno de los retos lectores en los que estoy metida.

Bueno, pues de estos nueve elegidos, en octubre me leí cuatro y dejé dos a medias que continué leyendo en noviembre. Bajo mi punto de vista, está feo eso. Pero me paro a pensar y digo: a ver, la mitad de un libro es 0.5. Si he dejado dos libros a la mitad, juntos suman 1. Lo que da lugar a otro libro. Así que así, con estos trapicheos, mi conciencia se queda tranquila porque a lo tonto a lo tonto, suman cinco. Y cinco de nueve me parece mejor resultado que cuatro de nueve.

---✨

Páginas totales que he leído.

El contador de The Storygraph no miente (o no debería). 1.758 páginas están la mar de bien. Aunque muchas de esas páginas no son tales; si no horas de escucha de audiolibros, que ya os contaré.

Este resultado dará más juego cuando lo compare el mes que viene, ya veréis. Y cuando terminemos el trimestre y el año, más todavía.

---✨

Los géneros que más he leído y los que menos.

De nuevo recurro a las estadísticas de The Storygraph. Pero no os dejéis engañar, porque alguno de los libros que he leído se asocian con más de un género literario.

«La vida invisible de Addie LaRue» es fantasía.

«Siempre hemos vivido en el castillo» lo considera clásico y de terror/horror.

«Persépolis» es biografía/memoir, histórica y novela gráfica.

Y por algún motivo que no comprendo, «La casa al final de Needless Street» no figura, pero yo lo añadiría a la sección de thriller.

Con todo esto, me alegra ver que este mes no me he quedado estancada en un género concreto y me sorprendo a mi misma con la biografía. Es de esos géneros tan separados de la ficción que jamás me hubiera imaginado adentrándome en él. Pero desde que leí «La ridícula idea de no volver a verte», de Rosa Montero, me ha picado el gusanillo.

---✨

Conclusión.

La verdad es que ni fu ni fa. Cuatro libros (+1) es un buen resultado, aunque en cuanto a cantidad me habría sentido igual de bien que si hubiera leído uno solo. Ninguno de ellos ha formado parte de una lectura sobresaliente, pero tampoco me he aburrido con ninguno.

Si queréis saber más, «La vida invisible de Addie LaRue» tiene reseña en la web...

También la tiene «Siempre hemos vivido en el castillo»:

Y con esto, cierro el repaso del mes de Octubre. Espero que os haya gustado.

¿Qué leísteis vosotros el mes pasado? Os leo.

#books #bookblr #libros #estadisticas de lectura #october wrap up #wrap up #book review #reseña

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ninaelhino · 3 years

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Moragine 7 - FANTASMAS DO PASSADO

A semana passou rápido demais e Morgaine só percebeu quando olhou no celular e viu que era sexta-feira! E então se deu conta do quanto estava cansada… e que tinha conseguido terminar TODAS as tarefas e responsabilidades da semana com sucesso!

“Caramba! Que semana! Mas sobrevivi, ainda bem que acabou…” - pensou.

No sábado e no domingo teve treino para o campeonato regional de líderes de torcida, que aconteceria em algumas semanas.

As meninas se esforçaram ao máximo e a treinadora Vitoria Mills ficou muito orgulhosa!

“Parabéns meninas, vocês arrasaram! Esse campeonato já está ganho!

No domingo depois do treino, as meninas estavam reunidas na sala quando Carmen apareceu com um tabuleiro e uma peça triangular nas mãos. “Olha o que eu achei numa caixa que estava no meu armário! Um tabuleiro de ouija! Quem topa participar?”

Samara foi a única que não topou. “Eu acho muito perigoso mexer com essas coisas…”

“Deixa de ser boba… isso é só uma brincadeira! Não funciona de verdade! - disse Gabi, zombando. Mas nada faria Samara mudar de ideia e desistiu de tentar convencê-la.

As meninas se sentaram em volta da mesinha da sala. Carmen, Morgaine e Gabi colocaram suas mãos na peça triangular, fecharam os olhos e começaram a se concentrar. “Ó espíritos do além, venham a nós!” - entoou Carmen.

“Eu ainda acho que vocês não deveriam brincar com isso…” - disse Samara, que estava sentada no sofá, atrás de Carmen.

Carmen continuou a recitar as palavras por algum tempo até que as luzes começaram piscar. “Deve ser uma oscilação de energia elétrica…” - disse Camilla, que estava na ponta da mesa, tentando achar uma explicação racional para o que aconteceu.

Depois de alguns segundos, Samara se levantou do sofá com a mão nos olhos. “Não me sinto bem… o que está acontecendo…?” - pensou.

A atmosfera do local começou a mudar… o ar parecia gelado. De repente Samara começou a falar mas a voz não era dela: “Não deveriam mexer com o que não entendem, principalmente você, Morgaine!”

Todas elas se levantaram assustadas. “O que está acontecendo? Por que está falando diferente, Samara?” - Camilla questionou.

“Eu não sou a Samara. Meu nome é Lana, Lana Vang." - disse.

Elas não conseguiam acreditar no que estava acontecendo! Samara estava possuída? E quem era Lana Vang?

"Espera aí! Lana Vang é o nome da minha avó materna!" - Morgaine exclamou, pensando em voz alta...

"Sim, isso mesmo! Sou eu, sua avó! E vim alertá-la do perigo de fazer uso de itens sobrenaturais sem o devido cuidado! Poderá atrair a atenção de pessoas mal-intencionadas pois você, Morgaine, carrega consigo um grande poder! É imperativo que procure orientação o quanto antes! Além disso, você precisa saber sobre o seu legado familiar e entender que você não é uma pessoa comum!"

Samara/Lana se aproxima de Morgaine e põe a mão em seu rosto. Ao sentir o toque gelado em sua pele, ela foi inundada com sensações e lembranças que não eram dela e ficou atordoada com tanta informação!

Samara/Lana se afasta e diz: "Lembre-se, você precisa se conectar com o seu passado e receber o conhecimento que lhe é direito. Boa sorte e tome cuidado."

A sala do alojamento volta ao normal e Samara começa a recobrar os sentidos: "O que aconteceu? Minha cabeça está doendo..."

"Não se lembra de nada?" exclama Yash, completamente surpresa.

Gabi, Carmen e Camilla estão igualmente espantadas e em choque.

Morgaine se sente sobrecarregada, e massageia seu pescoço tenso.

Atordoada, Morgaine senta-se na mesinha tentando processar as informações que recebeu. Yash que estava preocupada se pôs perto dela, tentando confortá-la.

Samara também senta-se como se estivesse sem energia para manter-se em pé e Carmen corre para perto dela.

Camilla e Gabi conversam entre si tentando entender que acabaram de presenciar.

ReShade preset Dove 2.0 @kindlespice

Poses @sim-plyreality, @sws-pose, @tv-sims, @a-luckyday, @natalia-auditore, @viesilfinds

Previous / Prologue / Next

English version below the cut.

GHOSTS OF THE PAST

The week went by too fast and Morgaine didn't realize until she looked at her phone and saw that it was Friday! And then she felt really tired and that she had successfully completed ALL of the week's chores and responsibilities!

"WOW! What a week! But I survived, I'm glad it ended… ”- she thought.

There was training on Saturday and Sunday for the regional cheerleading championship , which would take place in a few weeks.

The girls tried their best and the trainer Vitoria Mils was very proud!

“Congratulations girls, you rocked it! This championship is in the bag!"

After practice on Sunday, the girls were gathered in the living room when Carmen appeared with a board and a triangular piece in her hands. “Look what I found in a box in my closet! A ouija board! Who wants to try?”

Samara was the only one who didn't want. “I think it’s too dangerous to mess with these things…”

“Stop being silly… this is just a joke! It doesn't really work! - Gabi said, mocking her. But nothing would make Samara change her mind and she gave up trying to convince her.

The girls sat around the living room table. Carmen, Morgaine and Gabi placed their hands on the triangular piece, closed their eyes and began to concentrate. “O spirits from beyond, come to us!” - sang Carmen.

"I still think you shouldn't play with it..." - said Samara, who was sitting on the couch, behind Carmen.

Carmen continued to recite the words for some time until the lights began to flicker. "Must be an electrical power surge..." - said Camilla, who was at the end of the table, trying to find a rational explanation for what happened.

After a few seconds, Samara got up from the couch with her hand over her eyes. “I don’t feel well… what’s going on…?” she thought.

The atmosphere of the place began to change… the air felt cold. Suddenly Samara started to speak but her voice wasn't hers: "You shouldn't mess with what you don't understand, especially you, Morgaine!"

They all got up scared. "What is happening? Why are you talking differently, Samara?” - Camilla asked.

“I'm not Samara. My name is Lana, Lana Vang."- She said.

They couldn't believe what was happening! Has Samara been possessed? And who was Lana Vang?

"Hold on! Lana Vang is my grandma's name from my mother's side!" - Morgaine exclaimed, thinking aloud...

"Yes, that's right! It's me, your grandmother! And I've come to warn you that is dangerous using supernatural items without proper instruction! You may attract the attention of malicious people because you, Morgaine, has a great power! It's imperative that you seek guidance as soon as possible! Also, you need to know about your family legacy and understand that you are no ordinary person!"

Samara / Lana approaches Morgaine and puts her hand on her face. She feels the icy touch on her skin and then she was flooded with sensations and memories that weren't hers and she ha gotten dizzy with so much information!

Samara/Lana walks away and says, "Remember Morgaine, you need to connect with your past and receive the knowledge you are entitled to. Good luck and be careful."

The dorm room returns to normal and Samara begins to regain her senses: "What happened? My head hurts..."

"Don't you remember anything?" exclaims Yash, completely surprised.

Gabi, Carmen and Camilla are equally amazed and in shock.

Morgaine feels overwhelmed, and massages her tense neck.

Dazed, Morgaine sits at the coffee table trying to process the information she's been given. Yash, who was worried, got close to her, trying to comfort her.

Samara also sits down as if she doesn't have the energy to stand and Carmen runs to her side.

Camilla and Gabi talk to each other trying to understand what they have just witnessed.

#magnolia family #morgaine #carmen acosta #camilla arnaz #gabriella castillo #samara law #yash kaur #cheerleading #the sims 4 #the sims 4 story #isleroux #dizzyisysavefile

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