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miracles-and-butterflies · 1 month

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Again, for nobody in particular. But I wanted some content of Alma spending time with the grandkids post-movie.

The adults are going out for the time and Alma offers to stay behind to babysit. Dolores, assuming that the gremlins have been planning the worst all week, tries to talk her out of it. Only they are both surprised to find out that surprise is less chaotic and more theatrical than they thought.

Actual fluff from me. No angst at all. What????

Curtains Up, Showtime

“I insist, you really should reconsider.”

“I don’t understand. You are always so keen to give your parents a break and let Bruno babysit you all.”

“Yes, well, that’s because he deserves it.” Dolores narrowed her eyes across the room to where Bruno was encouraging his rats to squeak as loudly as possible for whatever game they were playing. “The four of them are spawns of Satan. I have heard them, all week - whispering and giggling. That spells trouble and you shouldn’t have to be put through that, Abuela. Especially at your old age. Mirabel, back me up here? Tell Abuela that she should leave Tío Bruno instead?”

Mirabel, who was too busy mending a hole her father had torn in his sleeve just as he and the rest of the adults were heading out the door, merely mumbled some agreement - muffled through the tail of thread she was holding taut between her teeth.

The matriarch chuckled lightly, waving Dolores’s comments off. “Oh, Lolita, don’t be ridiculous. You shouldn’t say such things about them, they are your own brothers and cousins.”

“And I know better than anyone that they come straight from hell.” Dolores crossed her arms.

“What? This adorable, little baby? Never!” Pepa gushed, as she scooped Antonio up into her arms. He giggled as kisses were pressed all over his face. “¡Buenas noches, hijo! We’ll miss you so much. Papa and I won’t be back until you’re in bed, so we won’t see you until the morning. But I’ve told your Abuela just how to put you to bed, so you won’t go without your story and cuddles.”

Julieta sighed nearby, “Your father and I will miss you girls too—”

“No! Don’t you dare touch me! I’m a grown woman!” Isabela screeched.

Luisa grinned mischievously, grabbing Isabela before she could sprint to the other side of Casita. She tried pushing her older sister back in front of their mother, who held her arms open, though neither of the girls moved to take the opportunity.

“I do like it when they act like hugging us will spread the plague,” Agustín offered, attempting to both cheer up and tease his wife.

“Now, you have to be good for your Abuela, understand?” Félix asked. “I don’t want to have your sister tell me that you’ve blown up a toilet or something tomorrow morning.”

“And you’d believe that gossip over me? Your favourite son?” Camilo questioned. He shifted into Antonio and bounded into his father’s arms, pouting.

Dolores swivelled from where she was still trying to plead with her grandmother, “I heard that!”

“I’m your favourite son!?” Antonio gasped, leaning over from Pepa’s grasp.

“There!” Mirabel affirmed, snipping the excess thread away. She stood back to examine her work, dusting off the sleeve. Her father shifted and wiggled his arm about. “Hm. It’s not bad for a quick-fix. And finishing it in an under three minutes is rather good for the infamous ‘slow one’ of the family. But don’t you dare rip through it - the shop barely stocks frost coloured thread these days— oh!” She jumped, finding that her mother’s arms were now wrapped around her.

Her sisters snickered from where they were hiding in the corner. Mirabel rolled her eyes at them.

“Why me?” She groaned.

“¡Porque eres mi bebé, amor!” Julieta answered. “And the only one with shorter legs than me, meaning you can’t run off like your sisters did.”

“I won’t hear another word of this, Dolores. I know my grandchildren, including you, better than anyone.” Abuela reminded, smiling. “And if they are as badly behaved as you claim they are, then spending a night with their abuela in charge will surely sort them out, no?”

Dolores couldn’t argue with that, she squeaked a little in defeat. “Yes, Abuela.”

With a few more warnings to behave and goodbye kisses, the two couples plus Bruno slowly made their way out of Casita for the night. Abuela made her way into the kitchen, offering to get drank for them all and suggested that they play a board or card game in the sitting room.

“Okay, what do you gremlins want to play? That will cause the least amount of damage?” Dolores asked, crouched in front of the cupboard.

“We’re not playing a game,” Isabela said.

“Yes, you are, or so help me, God, I will start blackmailing. Our Abuela doesn’t deserve to have to deal with you lot and your chaos.”

“No, Dolores, what Bela means is that we actually have something else planned.” Luisa explained. “We’ve been working on a short play all week for Abuela, we’re gonna perform it for her.”

“So… that’s what all that noise was about?”

Mirabel glanced between them. “Wait, what? I didn’t know anything about this.”

“Yeah, because you once called acting ‘professional lying’, so I figured you wouldn’t want to be part of this and would rather just sit and watch with Abuela.” Camilo shrugged.

“Oh, I was going to assume you all just forgot or didn’t care about me.” Mirabel mumbled. “But that was actually very sweet. Thank you for thinking about me. This might actually be very fun!” The others looked at her in surprise, she continued on, very giddy and clapping. “It’s been a while since I saw a play and I don’t remember much about it, so I’m hoping this will be better. Eleven years, to be exact.”

Slowly, the older few clocked the eleven years thing. They had all seen a play eleven years ago, some time after Camilo’s gift ceremony. It was one of the last fun family things they did before Mirabel’s ceremony went wrong and Bruno left and the pressure of the family hit an extreme level.

Camilo’s jaw hit the floor. He placed a hand on Mirabel’s shoulder, sympathetically. “That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. Not seeing a play… your life could be a tragedy, prima.”

“That would be fairly accurate for me,” Mirabel hummed.

“Brilliant idea! You know how I’ve been trying to come up with a nickname for you, I’m gonna name you after some tragedy character!”

“Oh, I’m afraid I don’t know very many—”

“Hey, as nice as this is to see you two getting along and as sad as it is to remember how Mirabel has been robbed of a theatre experience,” Luisa interrupted, “We actually need to get shit ready before Abuela comes back.”

“And we need to finish before Antonio and Mirabel go to bed.” Dolores added, thoughtfully.

Isabela scoffed teasingly, “We? Lola, do you mean to say you want to help us?”

“I figured you might want some music and sound effects?” Dolores offered, to which she got plenty of enthusiasm from the four. “I mean, I have heard you practicing all week and, as a musical prodigy, I doubt I’d need too much time to consider what would work best where.”

Isabela, Luisa, Camilo and Antonio raced upstairs for their makeshift props, grabbing some spares clothes and accessories to act as costumes. Dolores grabbed a couple of her instruments and Luisa moved the piano into the sitting room for her. Casita shifted some long red drapes to act as curtains and readjusted the lights.

Alma came in a few minutes later. She had gotten distracted in conversing with Casita and had almost forgotten what she was in the kitchen for in the first place.

She blinked a little as she eyed the room, “Charades is very different from how I remember it.” She shuffled in, setting the tray of glasses down on the table. Sitting down beside Mirabel, she took her own glass. “Have the others gone to bed already? It’s not like you to be the last one up.”

“They are tuning up, I believe.” Mirabel answered.

“Tuning up?” She raised an eyebrow, curiously.

“I… I don’t know what I’m talking about,” the girl winced, looking away. “I don’t know anything about any of this. I barely know what they are going to perform.”

Their relationship was getting better, day by day. But Mirabel still seemed to always be a little on edge around her, constantly trying to live up to some imaginary standard. It always tug on her heart strings to see.

“Neither do I,” Alma admitted, hoping to set her at ease. “Pedro was always the theatrical one. He adored the arts.” She smiled, offering Mirabel her hand. She had seen Luisa do it enough times to know how much it worked in calming Mirabel down or making her feel better. “We can always learn together?”

Mirabel took her hand, nodding. She managed a small smile.

The curtains rustled and out stepped Luisa, “Good evening, ladies and…” she paused. “And, um, Casita. Tonight, we have prepared a play, called ‘Hercules Gets Sent to School by Zeus to Learn that the Real Strength is Friendship, Gets Bullied by a Mean Cheerleader Who Has Secret Magic Powers that Become Relevant to the Plot Later, Befriends a Friendly Capybara, and Together They Fight the Cactus Mafia - Musical/Rap/Dance Edition’, written by us and Bruno. Oh, and the music is being provided by Dolores.”

“It sounds like it will be wonderful,” Alma commented.

“All of that was just the title?” Mirabel muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

As Luisa shuffled back through the curtains, Dolores slipped by her, taking a seat at the piano. “If you think that’s bad, wait until you hear some of the dialogue,” she whispered, only half-joking.

Needles to say, ‘Hercules Gets Sent to School by Zeus to Learn that the Real Strength is Friendship, Gets Bullied by a Mean Cheerleader Who Has Secret Magic Powers that Become Relevant to the Plot Later, Befriends a Friendly Capybara, and Together They Fight the Cactus Mafia - Musical/Rap/Dance Edition’ was a very… interesting play.

It certainly had its own charm, and was unlike anything else that had ever been performed before. Bonus points for them coming up with something so original and unique, if only other people had the same abilities instead of constantly copying and pasting or making sequels. But that is always a given if Bruno is directing and writing. In saying that, there wasn’t really a cohesive plot. More like four very different plots that kinda came together in the end but didn’t really. At least, Luisa and Camilo had both agreed on a high school setting.

The musical element was done fairly well, considering they hadn’t practiced with it and Dolores was just making things up as she went. Isabela and Luisa, who had both handled the choreography, had been very ambitious. Somewhere along the way, they had slowly grown more competitive and tried to outdo each other. Camilo also joined in with this when he realised what was happening. Antonio, given his age and not being as skilled as the other three yet, couldn’t quite keep up, but watching him try was certainly adorable.

The rapping had been a lot better. Something Isabela and Camilo seemed surprisingly good at it. Their skills at improvising as well had earned many claps from Casita’s tiles. The singing… not so much. The lack of harmonies between the cast being noted after every song by Dolores, who went from finding it frustrating to very humorous by the end of the show. Antonio’s animals all played various roles as the ensemble, though he often had to translate their lines for the audience and they occasionally missed their cues or wouldn’t hand over props.

However, the entire cast and the creative team (or rather the one creative person) were clearly enjoying themselves. And even if she didn’t get what was happening after about the first ten minutes, Alma was happy enough to just watch the kids mess around and have fun. Just watching them be themselves was better than anything else.

Mirabel, by her side, was sat rather confused by the end, trying to string together some kind of plot or conclusion or basic moral from the story. But even she had been smiling throughout most of it, clapped when needed too and even laughed at a couple comedic lines from her sisters and cousins, and also Dolores’ supposedly quiet commentary.

“Bravo! Bravo, niños! You all did a marvellous job!” Alma applauded, on her feet.

“You really think so?” Antonio asked.

“We’ll have to make another.” Said Camilo. “When do you plan on babysitting us next?”

“I can convince our parents to go out again as early as tomorrow morning.” Isabela declared. She tossed her hair dramatically, winking. “Believe me, I’m something of an actress and a very convincing one at that; pretended-to-be-straight-for-twenty-one-years, it’s no big deal.”

Dolores’ hand shot up immediately, “If we’re doing another play, can we do it properly, please? I will happily write it in place of Bruno. I will even schedule music rehearsals for harmonies.”

“And maybe we can extend our budget a bit? Splash out some proper costumes with fancy embellishments? Instead of stealing our parents’ wedding clothes?” Luisa suggested. She shared a knowing glance with Mirabel. “Come on, I know you were thinking about it. We might even spoil you and buy you some of that hard-to/get frost coloured thread.”

“Tempting. But I can’t imagine I’ll need more—”

“Oh, you will. Your father tripped an hour ago and tore off both sleeves.” Dolores informed.

Mirabel was baffled, “I… How!?”

“Well, I will be happy enough to fund the production for my favourite grandchildren.” Alma cut in.

“Really?” The six asked, simultaneously.

“Of course!”

And it would prove to be money well spent.

#encanto #my writing #alma madrigal #isabela madrigal #mirabel madrigal #luisa madrigal #dolores madrigal #camilo madrigal #antonio madrigal #madrigal grandkids #julieta madrigal #agustín madrigal #pepa madrigal #félix madrigal #bruno madrigal

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