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zafirosreverie · 2 years ago

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Tía Y/N (Madrigal triplets & Reader) part 2

Part 1

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"GET OUT OF MY WAY!"

"I WASN’T EVEN PART OF THIS!"

"FÉLIX, I WANT A DIVORCE!"

"JULIETA, COME BACK HERE!"

“YES JULI, COME BACK!

“NEVER!”

“SHE DOESN’T HIT YOU THAT HARD!”

"BETTER YOU THAN ME!"

“YOU’RE THE ELDEST! YOU HAVE TO SACRIFICE FOR YOUR BABY SIBLINGS”

“I KNOW NO SIBLINGS BUT THE ONE WITH THE CHANCLA BEHIND US, YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN”

“JULIETAAAAAAAA”

Alma tried not to laugh and maintain a serious face, but it was quite difficult when her triplets, all 50 years old with their own families, ran as a soul that the devil carries to avoid what everyone is afraid of: la chancla.

She didn't really know what was happening, it had been a quiet and normal morning, with the whole family taking a day off to enjoy each other's company. She had been embroidering with Mirabel in the living room (she did it more and more often, in an attempt to fix the relationship with her younger granddaughter), when Isabela and Camilo had entered laughing out loud, with Felix and Luisa smiling behind them.

They did not even have time to ask what happened before three green, yellow and blue spots flew next to them, with a very angry Y/N yelling from upstairs.

Alma was no fool, she knew that you, her eldest daughter and the one who reminded her most of Pedro (at least in appearance), had long taken the role that corresponded to her in the life of the triplets. On the one hand, she was happy they had you, but on the other it hurt her heart and guilt consumed her for knowing that she was never really present in her children's life to the point where they had to turn to you for help.

She never knew when Bruno had told you that he didn't want to have his own family, that he was not interested in having a partner of any kind. She wasn't present when Pepa had run to you on the first day of her period, or in the long night talks about crushes when she met Félix. She didn't even know that Julieta liked women too.

Just a few months ago she had discovered that Pepa calmed down when she was caressed, that Bruno liked to play the guitar or that Julieta loved painting and that the beautiful pictures in your room were made by her. In truth, she didn't know her own children. But you did.

You had been with them on every step of the road, even when they took different paths, you had never let them be lost for a long time. A task that you later performed with the grandchildren as well. Isabela and Dolores had learned to walk with you, Luisa always looked up to you especially when she had a problem, Camilo told you the secrets that he could never tell his parents, Antonio still followed you around all day when he was feeling sad and Mirabel...for the girl you were the whole world. There was absolutely nothing that she didn't tell you.

You were the only other family member besides her grandmother who didn't have a gift, you understood what it was to grow up with magical siblings when there was nothing special in you, you understood the looks of people's judgment, murmurs and teasing. That was why you had made your special mission to make the girl protected from all that.

Little by little, you wove a warm blanket of love and humility, you taught her that she did not need to have a gift to be a light, to shine and be a source of comfort. Mirabel could be identical to Julieta in appearance, but she was definitely a coal copy of you in everything else.

It took her too long to realize it, but now Alma understood that the miracle, the magic, was not what united them, that it was only a feature that most of them shared and nothing else. The answer was you. Really, you were the angel who kept the family together.

...And that's why no one should mess with you, unless they wanted all of heaven's strength chasing them. Or that it was one of the triplets. 50 years and they had not yet learned not to make you angry? Or perhaps it was their way of getting your attention when they felt you were abandoning them for the grandchildren.

A silly thought perhaps, but children will always be children, and the age did not matter, they would always need even if it was just a hug from their mother. And you were definitely the triplets' mother, no matter how much it hurt her.

"What do you think happened?" Mirabel whispered, taking her out of her thoughts

"I don't know" Alma smiled "but it must have been bad if your mother is running too"

It was true. Of the three, Julieta was usually the one that was spared from your fury. It was no secret to anyone that she was your favorite sister/daughter/family/person, despite Pepa and Bruno's anger, who would always get offended when her sister avoided your scolding.

"What about Julieta?! She also helped with the joke!" they would said

"Maybe, but she looks cute doing it" you'd shrug "besides, who could be mad at this precious face?" You would add while taking your sister by the cheeks

Your younger siblings would cross their arms and looked at you with an annoyed pout while a black cloud hovered on the redhead, and Julieta simply let you use her cheeks as a squishy and fill her face with kisses (something she took from you and did with her niece, nephews and daughters too), while she smirked at them.

The only times she actually got scolded was when she wasn't taking care of her own health. So either Julieta just wanted to do exercise or whatever the hell they did was really stupid and dangerous.

"YOU'RE ALL SO GROUNDED!!" You growled when you managed to get to the first floor.

You cursed Casita for siding with the triplets and letting them run while it trapped you on the second floor, but that didn't mean they were safe. Nope, there was no escape.

"What happened, mija?" Alma asked you walking up to you

"Your mocosos share the same fried brain cell and unfortunately for them, it wasn't Julieta's turn to have It" you growled

Your mother laughed and rolled her eyes fondly. She knew that you loved your siblings more than anything and that any insult you might have for them would never come out of the heart, just from a motherly anger, and there was something she could think that this was about.

"Did they try to test Julieta's gift with poisoned food again?" She asked

"They tried to test my patience" you answered "they used arsenic, mom. ARSENIC!"

Okay, that was new. Alma felt bad for thinking it, but she could have expected something that stupid and irresponsible from Pepa and Bruno, but Julieta? She knew better than that, she wasn't a silly girl who didn't know what arsenic could do. She must have been really desperate to get your attention if she let her siblings drag her into that.

"How are they even alive?" She gasped

"Félix caught them before they could even finish the empanadas and ran to tell me" you sighed "and I'm glad he did"

"Of course, I don't want to thinking what could have happened to them"

"And because now I can kill them myself"

Alma looked at you for a moment. You were frowning and looked ready to hit whoever stood in front of you, but she was still your mother and she could see the fear in your eyes, and honestly, she felt it too. She followed your gaze to see her younger children still running and she made a note to scold them right after you.

You felt your mom's aura changing and knew she was on your side, so you smirked and took your sandal with a single move, your eyes never leaving your adorably stupid siblings.

"Who do you want me to hit?" You asked, just for fun

Alma thought about it for a second. Julieta would definitely get the worst scolding once they were back for letting the other two convince her to do something stupid, but you both knew it hadn't been her idea. It probably wasn't even Bruno's, but there was someone who had never feared death nor god.

"The middle one" she told you

You nodded and focused on your victim for a moment before your chance flew directly at her. Your smirk never left your face and grew even more when Pepa fell to the ground after it hit her right in the head. Bruno and Julieta didn't even look at their fallen sister, they just ran faster to save their lives.

"AND YOU BETTER BRING IT BACK TO ME, YOUNG LADY" You yelled at the redhead while the whole family laughed behind you.

These three would be the end of you one day, you were sure of that. But god knew you wouldn't have them any other way. Besides, they were your cute little babies, so you guessed that gave them some points too.

#reader insert #x reader #madrigal triplets #madrigal triplets & reader #julieta madrigal #bruno madrigal #pepa madrigal #imagine #encanto preferences #encanto imagine #encanto x reader #encanto #tía y/n

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mlybrnte · 7 months ago

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Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov (Book Review)

What no one tells you about reading Lolita is that there is an initial visceral shock to encountering a very fucked up story. And then years later, you read it again in full attention and skill without realizing that so much tears have run out of you.

Me at 15: “this is horrific.”

Me at 22: “sad, sad, sad.”

I found myself weeping the moment I woke up from a nap induced by the memory of Nabokov’s novel. Lolita is told from the perspective of the pedophile himself, Humbert Humbert. What I respect so much from Nabokov is that no matter how, in minute subtle ways, we get a glimpse of victim Dolores Haze’s mind, a triumphant reader is able to grasp the whole spectrum of her childhood. How her rebellious streak is a scream of help, her calculating participation in Humbert’s crime is an attempt to get away from him, that she, even in her young age, is able to discern and choose a miserable life as opposed to being with him. And contrary to popular opinion, Humbert was less manipulative. Dolores hated his guts, and had seen through his actions and words. And Nabokov presents Humbert only as a manipulator of a story rather than his own life. He is a terrible, pathetic, egoistic white man who believes he is not like other pedophiles by associating the beauty of his victim akin to Botticelli’s Venus. Lolita wasn’t groomed because Humbert was easily a charming man, she was groomed because she had nowhere else to go. And of course, who would dehumanize a 12-year old for not having enough agency to get away?

What is so incredibly impressive in Nabokov’s approach that I believe some authors should imitate is depicting a crime without making it pornographic. For a book that is basically a pedophile’s account, the scenes were not explicit or sensual. But since he aimed to write from the point of view of a man who finds this as aesthetically pleasing, the narrative is obscured in flowery language and metaphor. At one point, I could not gather whether he had already done it because of his attempts to pacify the reader with impressive writing. Even sickening was arguing that there was nothing wrong after all since Lolita was no longer a virgin.

At the very core, Lolita is a horror story. I am quite appalled at the common general belief that it is a love story; that at some point, Humbert did love his little girl. ‘The tragedy lies in their unrequited romance.’ Nabokov would’ve risen from the grave. I would argue that, yes, while the rape scenes were subtext, and the author did not attempt to exhaust anatomical details, (actually, no matter how embellished a rape scene is with highbrow vocabulary and figures of speech, it’s an issue of skill for not arriving at the conclusion that he raped her, or perhaps a denial of one’s own true mental compass.) one paragraph from the novel struck me as a very obvious admission of guilt:

“Alas, I was unable to transcend the simple human fact that whatever spiritual solace I might find, whatever lithophanic eternities might be provided for me, nothing could make my Lolita forget the foul lust I had inflicted upon her. Unless it can be proven to me — to me as I am now, today, with my heart and by beard, and my putrefaction — that in the infinite run it does not matter a jot that a North American girl-child named Dolores Haze had been deprived of her childhood by a maniac, unless this can be proven (and if it can, then life is a joke), I see nothing for the treatment of my misery but the melancholy and very local palliative of articulate art.”

Humbert himself acknowledges that to otherwise admit he had ruined Lolita’s life is a joke. He would go to hell in any religion because of the foul lust he had inflicted upon her. And no being could prove to him that he did not deprive her of a childhood. No subtext needed. No desire for hints. So many paragraphs are evidence alone. Nabokov never painted Humbert in a color different from a monster. Many times he was clearly written like a pathetic loser who died as miserable as he was living. I believe Humbert’s account to have someone sympathize with him is in earnest, a hypocritical and narcissistic attempt to not hold himself fully accountable. And to point a finger at the author for being a ‘creep’ because of his depiction of abuse is quite ridiculous. Reading the book carefully would equip you with a crystal clear conclusion that depiction is not always endorsement. So to arrive at romanticizing the story, Nabokov does a good job of holding up a mirror to show confirmation that abuse can be in the form of romantic prose, that we lack the ability to set apart roses from blood.

This is perhaps one of the saddest books I have ever read. I hope all Dolores Hazes in the world find peace and happiness.

#bookreview #bookblr #bookrecommendation #vladimirnabokov #vladimir nabokov #classic literature #classics #classicbooks #bookshelf #bookquotes #bookstagram #banned books

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immabethehero · 2 years ago

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A Starry Night in the Encanto

I DID IT. CROSSOVER WEEK FINALLY COMPLETE. @wdtajn IT’S FINALLY DONE

So context: there’s a lovely musical called Starry, based on the life of Vincent Van Gogh. It’s written by Kelly Lynne D’Angelo and Matt Dahan, both very talented. Dahan also did a bit of Starkid. The soundtrack is on Spotify, go listen to it now!!!

🌠🌠🌠🌠🌠

“His hair is red like Mamá’s. Fiery red,” Dolores reports.

“He’s only got art equipment on him,” Isabela says.

“The hummingbirds say a door appeared from a hill and he emerged from it,” Antonio translates, the little birds fluttering around his head.

“He hasn’t said much to anyone, just kind of wandered towards the fields where the donkeys were,” Luisa recalls.

“He’s a lot like you, Tío, weird and artsy,” Camilo admits. This earns him a smack from Dolores.

“So… you think you could try talking to him?” Mirabel asks.

Bruno blinks rapidly, struggling to keep up with all the sudden information. He had just been dreaming of watching sheep and rats dance in a field when a tremor that made his bones rattle and his teeth chatter startled him awake. When he opened his eyes, he quickly surmised the tremor had been all six kids shaking him awake.

“And you want me to talk to him because…” he begins.

“Because like Camilo said in a non-helpful way, he reminds the town of you,” Mirabel answers.

An artist who avoids socializing? Fair enough. Bruno sighs and swings his feet out of the hammock. “Alright, just don’t expect any fascinating conversations to happen.”

“We won’t,” Camilo responds.

True to what Luisa said, Bruno finds the man sitting on a rock, painting the donkeys grazing in the field. The stranger wears blue overalls over a yellow shirt, both covered in dried paint splotches. He chews on a spare paint brush as he contemplates his next move. Red hair pokes out from under his straw hat.

Bruno slowly walks over to him, whistling absentmindedly to get his attention. The stranger’s head perks up, but he refuses to tear his eyes away from his masterpiece.

Bruno takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “Um, hi!”

No response. The man keeps painting.

Maybe he doesn’t speak English. “Hola!” Still no response.

“Uh… bonjour! Ciao! Habari! Konnichiwa! Guten morgen!” Please say something!

The stranger finally (finally!) turns around. His blue eyes have a sad, faraway look, yet twinkle with determination. They’re also very judgemental, at least to Bruno. “Didn’t know you spoke so many languages.”

Bruno feels his face turn red. “Not really, I just know how to say ‘hello’ and ‘where’s the bathroom’ in many languages.”

The stranger nods and turns back to his painting. Bruno peers over his shoulder to see the work.

“Woah…”

The colours pop out of the canvas, the sky dancing and twirling in a polychromatic tornado. The field boasts just as many hues, every shade of green far more eye-catching than Bruno’s ruana.

The man stops his painting and glares at Bruno. “Can I help you with something?”

“Teach me to paint.”

“What?”

“Can you teach me to paint like you, please?”

The man glances back and forth between Bruno and his painting, confused. “You actually like this?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I’ve never seen the sky and fields painted like that before!” Bruno admits. “It’s… maravilloso!”

The man blushes. “You’d be the first non-family member to say that. My other friends would say it’s too… what’s the word…”

“Messy?” Bruno guesses.

“No… tacky. Something like that.”

Bruno scoffs. “You need new friends.”

The painter laughs. “You flatter me, sir. What’s your name?”

“Bruno Madrigal.”

“Vincent Van Vogh.”

As Bruno shakes Vincent’s hand, his heart begins to beat faster in excitement. There’s something very fascinating about this man.

“Do you need a place to stay?”

“Given my way here has suddenly disappeared, yes. Do you have a motel where I could spend the night?”

“I was thinking perhaps my place? My family's house is big enough to house a guest wandering the Encanto,” Bruno says.

“Encanto?”

“It’s where you are. Encanto, Colombia.”

Vincent’s pale face turns ghostly. “Colombia?! That’s so far from France! How did I get here? How do I get back?!”

Bruno waves his hands nervously. “Don’t worry! This town does all sorts of magical stuff. I’m sure once you’ve settled down and explained how you got here, a way for you to go home will arrive. For now, let’s just settle on finding you a place to stay. I promise my family doesn’t bite. But the pets might.”

Vincent squeaks in response.

As they near the brilliant “Casita”, as Bruno calls it, the man suddenly stops Vincent in his tracks.

“Before we get any closer, I need to warn you of some things. This town is known for… its eccentricities, to say the least. For one thing, my house moves independently.”

Vincent nods warily. “Like… it’s haunted?”

Bruno laughs nervously. “No, it just has a mind of its own.”

The two continue on their way, and Bruno motions to Casita. “As you see…”

The window shutters on the top window suddenly swing and the tiles of the roof roll in a wave. Vincent yelps in surprise.

The window shutters shake back and forth slowly, as if waving. Vincent meekly waves back. The door opens (on its own!) to welcome the men inside. Vincent marvels at the building’s beautiful colours. He’ll have to paint it once he’s made sure he’s awake and not just hallucinating. Or dreaming. Or completely losing his mind. Maybe he should have taken up Segatori’s suggestion to see that doctor from wherever-the-heck.

“My family has magic as well. Some are a bit more noticeable than others,” Bruno explains. “For example-”

A roar of thunder echoes through the courtyard, startling Vincent. He looks up. There’s not a single cloud in the sky, how-?

He is soon answered by a tall woman wearing a bright orange dress. Her red hair is pulled back into a pretty braid. She eyes Vincent suspiciously.

“Who’s this, Bruno?” she asks.

“He’s Vincent, he’s… new here,” Bruno explains. He turns to Vincent. “This is Pepa, my sister. She can control the weather.”

Pepa scoffs. “It’s not so much control as it is just summoning clouds when I get emotional.”

“It’s still a very cool gift,” Bruno says. Pepa smiles and shoves him playfully.

“Whatever you say, hermano.”

Vincent hears loud footsteps above and looks up to see six, well, five young adults and one child curiously watching him from the mezzanine.

“Oh boy, there’s two of them now,” the teenaged boy mumbles. The girl with the red headband elbows him hard.

“These are my nieces and nephews!” Bruno says, grinning. “Come on down!”

Once they’re all standing in front of Vincent, Bruno introduces them. Isabela, Dolores, Luisa, Camilo, Mirabel and Antonio.

“Pleased to meet you at last, Señor. What’s your name?” Mirabel asks, pushing her bright green glasses up. Vincent marvels at her beautiful skirt.

“I’m Vincent. Vincent Van Gogh,” the artist says. “Your skirt is very pretty.” So many colours…

“Thank you! I just added some new designs.” Mirabel twirls, allowing Vincent to see the skirt in full.

“Where are you from?” Luisa asks. She towers over all of the kids. Her muscular build would be something Johanna would fawn over.

“Arles. It’s in the south of France.”

“That’s over 8000 kilometers away!” she gasps.

A heavenly scent fills the room. Vincent follows it to another woman approaching, holding a pot. Her curly black hair is swept up in a bun.

“This is Julieta, my other sister. Her cooking can heal any injuries,” Bruno says. “Julieta, this is Vincent Van Gogh.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Julieta says, holding out a gloved hand. Vincent shakes it, startled by all the people. He’s never met a group with such colourful clothing before!

“Where did you come from?” Julieta asks.

“Arles, France.”

“That’s quite far. How did you get here?”

“I was just getting back from a long day of painting when I saw a door glowing in an alleyway. When I went to investigate it, I could hear people and animals inside. So I opened it and walked through and came here.

“That must have been the door in the hill where the animals saw you come out!” Antonio cries.

“What happened to the door?” Mirabel asks.

“When I turned around, the door was gone.”

The Madrigals glance at each other nervously.

Mirabel holds up her hand. “Family meeting!”

While the Madrigals huddle in Dolores’ sound proof room, Vincent stays in the courtyard, entertained by Casita. The painter has never seen a house juggle before.

“So… what do you guys think? Should we let him stay?”

“Well, now that you’ve invited him, it’s not like we can just throw him out into the streets.”

“Besides, he came from a magic portal. We can’t send him back either. We’ll have to wait for the Miracle to find him another way home.”

“All in favour of letting Vincent stay, say I.”

“I!” twelve voices echo.

Casita conjures up a guest room with a reasonably sized window for Vincent to look out. As soon as he sees the view, Vincent requests another canvas and immediately begins painting. Bruno can’t wait to see the result.

He also can’t wait to get to his vision cave. He can’t put his finger on it, but there’s something important, significant, influential about Vincent. His artwork feels familiar, and Bruno knows his Gift can help him solve the mystery. The seer flies through his room and into his vision cave, taking the steps (which have thankfully lessened dramatically) two at a time.

Surrounded by sand, salt tossed and match lit, Bruno begins to search for Vincent Van Gogh’s future.

Bruno is the first person Vincent sees in the morning. Grinning, he holds up the finished artwork of his view of the Encanto. The clouds and sunset have never looked so vibrant before, the colourful houses below compliment the beautiful sky.

“You like it? You can keep it if you do! I have so much art in my flat, it’s kind of a problem. I really need to find new homes for them…”

Vincent looks up from his work to see his host’s eyes red and puffy. Without saying a single word, Bruno throws his arms around the shocked painter.

“Bruno? Are you okay?”

Bruno simply hugs him tighter.

Unsettled, Vincent decides to paint in the courtyard of the lovely house. Just before he begins pouring his paint, he notices the kids approach him, all holding painting gear. His stomach drops. They’re not going to-

“Is it ok if we join your painting session?” the girl with the colourful dress asks. “We saw you sitting alone and well, we just thought a good way to get to know our guest is through his favorite activity!”

Vincent freezes. He prefers painting alone, when no one can judge him or tell him how to paint or-

“We’ll be as quiet as possible! We just thought it would be fun,” the tallest girl says. The rest nod, smiles nervous but… honest.

Vincent nods and gestures to the floor, hoping it doesn’t come off as curt. He jumps when the tiles on the floor suddenly move, rolling chairs, easels, and a large table their way. He’s never going to get used to that.

“Alright guys, let’s do it!” the first girl says, setting her painting supplies down. Vincent fakes a smile as the rest of the kids file in.

“Mirabel and Antonio are coming soon,” a girl with a red headband says to Vincent. “Tío Bruno as well, but first he needs to see Julieta because of a headache.” Vincent nods, puzzled. How does she know that? Wait, what’s her name again?

Vincent studies the people around him, trying to remember Bruno’s rapid fire introductions from yesterday. Isabela has the colourful dress, Louise(?) is really tall and muscular, Dora(?) has the red headband. There's also a teenaged boy wearing an orange poncho, or ruana, as Vincent has been informed. He’s already forgotten that kid’s name.

The painter relaxes a little when he sees Mirabel and Antonio (frankly the more approachable kids of the youth) show up. He stops relaxing when he sees what Antonio is riding on. Christ, he’s never seen a cat that big!

“What- what’s that?” he stammers, pointing a shaking finger at the giant cat with razor teeth.

Antonio looks down at his ride. “This is Parce! He’s a jaguar, and he’s one of my best friends!”

“And your parents are okay with this?” Vincent squeaks. Antonio nods happily.

“I can talk to animals! They all love me!” That checks out. Vincent keeps forgetting about the magic part.

“So… I’m guessing you all have magic too?” Vincent asks.

“Yeah! Luisa has super strength!” the teenaged boy says, pointing to the tall girl. To demonstrate, Luisa lifts up the table with one hand. One. Vincent’s jaw drops. That’s why she’s so muscular! Johanna would love this girl.

“Dolores can hear anything from miles away!” Isabela says, pointing to the girl with the red headband. The girl in question suddenly perks her head up and smiles.

“It seems Tía Julieta is baking a treat for us.” Right on queue, Vincent begins to smell something delectable wafting from the kitchen. Incroyable!

“Isabela can grow any plant at will,” Mirabel says. Isabela waves her hand and a bouquet of sunflowers appears in her hand. She hands them to a stunned Vincent.

“And Camilo can shapeshift into anyone!” Mirabel exclaims, pointing to the teenaged boy. So that’s his name!

Camilo gets up and twirls. In seconds, he transforms into Vincent. The painter gawks at his own clone smiling back at him, though he thinks the smile would suit Gauguin more. Paul always has a smug smile.

“Tía Pepa can control the weather with her mood,” Luisa continues. “And our mamá, Julieta, can heal people with her cooking!”

Vincent realizes one kid hasn’t shown off yet. “What about you? What’s your power?” he asks Mirabel.

Mirabel shrugs. “I don’t have a Gift.”

“She’s our Miracle holder,” Dolores says.

“She keeps us sane,” Camilo adds.

“She’s the heart of this family,” Isabela concludes. Mirabel blushes with pride.

“And what about Bruno? You haven’t mentioned him.”

“Tío Bruno can see the future!” Mirabel says.

The future? As in, what’s to come? Or what could be? Could this explain why Bruno was crying when he saw Vincent this morning?

“Is that why he looked sad to see me? He was so happy when I came to stay, but when I saw him last, he was crying,” Vincent explains. The children exchange worried glances.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about!” Mirabel hastily says. “Why don’t you show us your talent?”

The Madrigal begin pulling out their art supplies, waiting eagerly for the painter to begin. Eyeing them all suspiciously, Vincent resumes pouring paint onto his pallette.

Vincent decides to do a portrait of Parce, the jaguar lying by Antonio’s side. He begins sketching the outline.

“How long have you been in painting, Señor Van Gogh?” Dolores asks.

“Almost seven years,” Vincent answers.

“What do you usually paint?”

“Whatever I feel like. Which right now is the giant cat and his fascinating pattern.”

“He’s a jaguar. They’re great swimmers and they can kill with just one bite!” Antonio says.

Vincent dares a peek at Parce, who winks at him. The Dutchman gulps and ducks behind his painting.

Bruno suddenly runs in, carrying his painting equipment and a tray of something that smells devine. “Sorry! Sorry! Got held up with Julieta. Anyone care for some carimiñola?”

Half the snacks are gone in seconds. Vincent quickly grabs one before they disappear entirely. He takes a bite.

All of his senses ignite at once. His skin has cleared, his crops are thriving- He’s found Heaven in this little treat! It’s as if the chef has made it specifically for him. They aren’t kidding when they say Julieta’s cooking is magical!

Bruno chuckles as Vincent begins snatching more for himself. “Julieta has some more left over if needed. Quite the chef, isn’t she?”

“This is magique! Remind me to get the recipe before I go home,” Vincent exclaims between bites. “Also, send my compliments to her.”

“Will do.”

After eating at least three more of the carimiñolas, Vincent continues painting. The rest of the Madrigals contentedly paint beside him, most of them humming or whistling to themselves as they work. Another thing Vincent has learned about the Madrigals: they’re very musical.

Theo and Johanna would love Encanto. Theo would be amazed by all the artwork here. The weather would do wonders for his health. And the Madrigals! Johanna would consider the Madrigal women her sisters. Theo could chat with the husbands for hours… probably about how much they love their wives. The thought makes Vincent chuckle to himself.

Hours pass. As Vincent finishes his work, the Madrigals begin showing off their paintings. Isabela has painted a cactus with a large orange flower on it. Dolores painted a guitar with little swirly designs on them. Luisa shyly presents the lovely unicorn she drew, mumbling how art isn’t her strong suit. Vincent has to admit, he’s envious of the way she paints equidae. Mirabel shows off a giant butterfly with rainbow wings, while Antonio shares an adorable picture of Bruno’s pet rats. There’s at least fifty rats on that paper, just how many does Bruno own?!

“Camilo, you haven’t shared your artwork yet,” Mirabel points out. The teenager ducks his head, canvas facing his chest.

“It’s… uh… still ongoing,” he mumbles.

“I’m sure it’s fine, just show us already!” Isabela urges.

Camilo reluctantly turns his canvas around. The group stares at the photo, stunned by the results.

Mirabel finds her voice first. “How lovely! It’s a… is it El Mohán?”

“It’s a chicken. Screaming,” Camilo admits. “It’s from the chicken incident, remember?”

The Madrigals begin nodding and smiling. Apprently that’s a story.

Vincent ducks behind his own canvas to keep Camilo from seeing his amused smile. He really hopes the kid doesn’t want to make a career out of art. Oh god, the other painters would be appalled if they saw that. Gaugin would never let the poor boy hear the end of it.

“It’s bad isn’t it?” Camilo wails. “I can’t draw at all!”

“No kidding…” Bruno mutters a little too loudly. Mirabel shoots him a glare while Vincent giggles behind his artwork.

Camilo scowls and stands to face the snickering painter. “My art is very amusing, isn’t it? Why don’t you show us what you made, Señor Van Gogh?!”

Vincent, still chuckling a little, shoots the teen a smug smile and turns his painting around. Camilo immediately sits back down, gawking and stuttering. Vincent’s smile widens.

“I’ve never seen Parce so colourful before!” Antonio squeals. Parce roars in agreement.

“Look at all those colours!” Isabela and Mirabel gush.

“It’s so pretty!” Dolores sighs.

“You’re such a gifted painter!” Luisa exclaims.

Vincent blushes from all the compliments. He’s surprised it made such a hit with this crowd. The other artists would be whining about the bright colours, the Madrigals adore it. Maybe it’s a cultural thing?

Vincent hands the painting to Antonio. “Consider this a little gift.” The child gasps with excitement, warming the painter’s heart.

“Thank you, señor!”

At last, Bruno presents his artwork. It’s of two anthropomorphic rats in masks, one black with a red spider on its shirt, the other wearing a similar outfit, only white with hints of pink and black.

“What is that?” Vincent asks.

“It’s a scene from a movie about people who share magical spider powers! We’re gonna watch it tonight!” Bruno explains.

None of those words are in any religious writings. As far as Vincent knows. “What’s a movie?”

“It’s a thing in the future, it’s where… art moves on futuristic… canvases?” Bruno trails off, words failing him. Vincent looks even more lost.

“Could you show me these ‘movies’ with your Gift? Maybe I’ll understand then,” Vincent finally says.

Bruno’s smile disappears. “You… want to see my Gift?”

“You’re the only one whose Gift I haven’t seen yet, of course I want to!”

Bruno glances at the kids, who nod and motion to Vincent. The prophet turns back to the artist, forcing a smile. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

But first, Antonio wants Vincent to help him hang up the “Portrait of Parce”. Bruno silently thanks his sobrino for the extra minutes as he paces back and forth in his room, fidgeting with his ruana. The rats watch their master warily, some crawling to him for comfort. Bruno smiles and picks one up, stroking her back.

The door suddenly opens and Bruno nearly drops the poor rat in surprise. He sets the rat down and turns to see Mirabel.

“Tío? Is everything ok?”

Bruno whines wordlessly and flops face first into the sand. Mirabel crouches beside him and puts her hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t need to worry! Vincent has seen so much weird stuff by now, I’m sure your Gift will look normal compared to everything else!”

Bruno lifts his head up. “It’s not that I’m worried about. I… I saw his future. And I don’t want him to see it.”

Mirabel frowns. “Right… he did ask about that before you showed up.”

Bruno squeaks. “He did?”

“Yeah. He said you were crying. What did you see?”

Bruno hesitates, choosing his words carefully. “He’s been through a lot. Everyone thinks he’s odd, and his paintings aren’t selling. He barely has any friends.”

Mirabel hums to herself in thought. She finally says, “He kind of reminds me of you.”

Bruno scoffs lightly and gently elbows her. “How dare you? I have tons of friends. Human friends, that is!” That’s actually not true, but he hopes Mirabel will humour him.

“You and the town didn’t always see eye to eye, but look at you now! You’re loved and respected in the Encanto! I’m sure it will be the same for him!”

Bruno chuckles sadly. “It’s… it’s not the same where he’s from. It can’t be solved that easily.”

Mirabel huffs. “Well, there has to be something good coming his way! You need to look for the butterfly! Like you did with my future! Surely one nice thing appeared when you looked into his future!”

Bruno ponders this silently, picking at his ruana. He suddenly lights up.

“Actually… there is. It’s the reason I looked into his future in the first place! Gracias, Mirabel!”

“So how will this work? Will there be smoke? I’ve got some matches! Do I need to close my eyes? Are there cards involved?” Vincent’s questions are endless as he takes a seat in Bruno’s vision cave. Bruno sits across from him, slightly unnerved by how talkative the painter has become. And to think he didn’t even want to talk to Bruno when they first met!

“You just need to stay inside the circle I made,” Bruno says. “Also be careful of the flying sand. It lets you see my visions, but it also can get into your hair and clothes.”

Vincent shrugs. “I’ll be fine.”

“It’s also going to get very windy.”

“Again, not an issue. I’ve painted in the rain plenty of times, the wind is nothing.”

“How strong is your immune system?”

“Very, now can we please begin?”

Bruno strikes a match and lights up the four leaf piles. He takes a deep breath. Look for the butterfly. Vincent watches with wide eyes.

The wind begins to pick up the sand. The room gently shakes as Bruno’s Gift awakens. Bruno feels his eyes glow and opens them.

“You might want to hang on,” he says, holding out his hands. An amazed Vincent takes them, his own hands trembling.

“Are you okay?” Bruno asks.

“Just shaking with excitement, I think,” Vincent says, gripping Bruno’s hands tightly. “Keep going.”

The sand swirls around them, creating a large bubble that envelops the gentlemen. Vincent gasps as bright green grains of sand begin forming images.

“This is what a movie looks like!” Bruno yells. Vincent watches with anticipation as the outline of a rectangle appears, the images inside moving as people below the screen watch.

“First they show them in these giant theatres before putting the movies on smaller vinyls for people to see whenever they want!” Bruno explains.

“That’s wonderful! Thank you for showing me!” Vincent says.

“While we’re here, there’s something else I wanted to show you!” Bruno exclaims.

“There is?”

“Your future!” Bruno closes his eyes in concentration, willing the good images to come to him. When he opens them, he feels a sense of relief rush through him.

Vincent watches as multiple versions of him appear, each one deeply engrossed in painting. Man, he really needs to fix his posture. When he looks closer, he recognizes a few paintings, but the rest are new to him.

The paintings then float together, each one receiving a fancy frame before lining up side by side. A ribbon holds back what seems to be crowds of people staring at the art. Vincent’s art.

“Thousands of people will come each day to see your art!” Bruno explains. “I’ve always wondered why your art looked so familiar, now I know. I’ve seen it before. These are revolutionary!”

Vincent stares at Bruno incredulously. “Are you sure it isn’t someone else’s art?”

“That was you painting all of them, right? I promise your paintings are going to change lives! People will come from far and wide to see them, inspired by your determination and passion. You’re quite the artist, Vincent Van Gogh.”

A slab of green glass materializes in front of the two men. Bruno takes it and uses it to shield them from the falling sand. He brushes off the last few grains and shows it to Vincent. The picture depicts a lovely view of Vincent’s art, hung up for people to see. The painting in the middle catches Vincent’s eye, one of a starry night over a town.

Bruno rubs his temples, blinking away any red spots in his view. When his vision finally clears, he’s surprised to see the artist wiping away a few tears, still gazing at the piece. Bruno gulps. Did he overwhelm the poor man?

“Did you get sand in your eye? Was it too much?!”

Without saying a single word, Vincent throws his arms around the shocked prophet.

“Vincent? Are you okay?”

Vincent simply hugs him tighter.

Mirabel is jolted awake when the door to Bruno’s room opens, tipping her over. She falls flat on her face. She feels a hand pull up her by the arm.

“Sorry, I didn't realize you were here.” It’s Vincent. When she pushes her glasses back up to see him, she’s surprised to see them glistening with tears. Her stomach plummets.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

Bruno appears behind Vincent, his smile bright, but his eyes rather red. “It’s fine, Mirabel. I think Vincent just needs some time alone.”

Mirabel nods and lets the artist pass. She watches him slowly walk to his room, clutching the emerald tablet in his arms.

Bruno gives Mirabel a hug. “Thanks for the advice, kid. I think he really needed to see that.”

He pulls away from the hug, stumbling. Mirabel grabs his arms to help steady him.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m getting too old for double visions. I’m going to take a nap.” Bruno hobbles back into his room, the door shutting behind him.

“I will never understand artists.” Mirabel turns around to see Camilo leaning on the rail of the mezzanine.

“Camilo, you’re an actor. Isn’t that technically an art?”

“There’s a difference, prima.”

“No there isn’t.”

Bruno sees the door first, shimmering and glowing. The doorknob has an encrusted “V” written on. He calls for Vincent.

The prophet and the painter work together to get Vincent’s stuff packed up for him, while Mirabel wraps the vision tablet up in a spare blanket so it doesn’t get destroyed. Included is the recipe for her mother’s carimiñolas.

Vincent holds his painting of the Encanto. “Before I leave, I want you to have this. I don’t have any currency on me, so I hope you’ll take a painting as payment for letting me in.”

Mirabel excitedly takes the artwork. “Gracias! We’ll definitely have to find a nice place for this!” She throws her arms around Vincent. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Señor Van Gogh.”

“It was a pleasure staying here,” Vincent says. Mirabel runs off to hang up the art. She turns back and winks to Bruno.

Vincent turns back to Bruno, smiling. “I’ll miss seeing you every day. It’s not everyday I meet someone as kind as you.”

The compliment makes Bruno flush. “I’ll miss you as well. I’m… so honoured we got to meet. I don’t think I’ll ever meet a friend like you again.”

The painter pulls his friend in for a hug one last time. He feels Bruno’s arms wrap around him. He’s quite certain he’ll never feel the warm embrace of a friendship like this again. He’s never felt so seen before.

Bruno has never felt so seen, so connected before. He almost doesn’t want to let go, feeling a bit colder as Vincent pulls away. He never knew friends like Vincent could do that to him.

Vincent glances at the door. “So… do I just… touch the doorknob?”

“That usually does the trick,” Bruno advises.

Vincent apprehensively touches the doorknob. The glow of the door brightens, brightens, forcing Vincent to shut his eyes. When he opens them, an image of him has been carved onto the door, the outline sparkling with magic. The figure holds a paintbrush and a pallette, reaching up to touch the dancing stars. He gasps.

“Looks like you’re part of this family now,” Bruno says. “Goodbye, Vincent Van Gogh. I hope we cross paths again!”

“We’ll meet again! I promise! ” Vincent says. He opens the door and walks through.

Vincent lugs his gear through the door and right into his brother’s house. How convenient. The door closes behind him and the beautiful glow disappears. Vincent smiles sadly. He’ll miss Bruno.

His thoughts are interrupted by someone running downstairs and into the front hallway. It’s Theo! Immediately Vincent is tackled by his younger brother in a hug. He’s been hugged a lot recently. Vincent happily returns it.

“Hello, brother!”

“You’re here! Oh thank God, I was so worried!” Theo exclaims.

“What?”

Theo pulls out of the hug and begins checking Vincent for injuries. “Where were you, Vincent? Paul wrote to us and said he hasn’t seen you for four days! You couldn’t be found! What happened to you? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. I feel great, actually!” Vincent responds. “A family looked after me.”

“I’ll be sure to send them my thanks,” Theo says. “Where was this family? In a different country?!”

That’s not far from the truth. “They live…” Vincent trails off. There’s no logical way to explain where he’s been, or even how he got there. Even if he did try, what if someone heard him? Arles would have even more to say against the artist. He shakes his head.

“It’s a long story… But I did get a new recipe I want you and Jo to try-”

Right on cue, Johanna appears from around the corner and runs to hug Vincent.

“There you are! I’m so glad you’re back, Vincent!” she cries. “Where were you?”

“Like I told your husband, it’s really complicated-”

“Why don’t you stay at our place for the night, then you can head back to Arles!” Jo immediately begins dragging her brother-in-law to the couch.

“Can I unpack first? I need to find a place for my stuff-.”

“No worries, there’s a free bedroom at the end of the hall!”

As they organize the free room, Vincent unwraps the vision tablet on his bed. Where could he keep this?

“Oh my goodness! That’s a gorgeous piece of art!” Theo exclaims. “Who made that?”

“My friend Bruno,” Vincent says. “It’s a… talent of his.”

“Then we’ll definitely have to find somewhere to hang it up,” Theo says. “He’s very talented.”

“He’s Gifted,” Vincent agrees. “And a great friend.”

“How come you never told us Vincent was a famous artist?!” Camilo whines. “It would have been nice to know that before I showed him a drawing of a screaming chicken!”

“You never asked, kid,” Bruno says with a chuckle. “Besides, he’s not famous yet, I don’t think. You still have time to right your wrongs.”

Camilo faints onto the couch, howling dramatically.

“This is amazing! I knew he had a Gift for painting, but this is exquisite!” Mirabel says, studying the painting. After much deliberation, the Madrigal family decided to hang it up in the mezzanine, where anyone passing by could be reminded of their friend. “And he really drew this from a view in his window?” Bruno nods.

“I can’t believe we got to meet an internationally celebrated painter!” Isabela gushes. “I the Miracle will let us meet him again.”

“I’m sure we’ll see each other again,” Bruno says. “He promised we would.”

Camilo sits up. “Oh yeah? What gives you the idea he’ll somehow magically appear again?”

Bruno winks. “20-20 vision.”

#bruno madrigal #mirabel madrigal #disney encanto #wdtajn #vincent van gogh #starry musical #encanto fanfiction #apparently i can write

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patheticbatman · 1 year ago

Text

Part Four

I'm very proud of these dolls, and I'm also leaving them at my parents' house, so I did a little photoshoot with some books as background so I can have nice pictures of them. This set of pictures is exclusively dolls that I painted, so I’m very pleased to show them off.

This is the fourth and final post, so check out the first for more info!

First up is Sisu, with The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle. I swear that I did not rip the cover. I think that copy is like 50 years old, and I swear I had the ripped of part until recently. I’m very sad about losing it. But in any case, I feel like Sisu would relate heavily with being the only one of her species left for a long while, about how human vice affected her status as an endling, about spending time in a body that isn’t really hers to survive, and the whole quest really. Hell, in the book, Schmendrick and Molly end up together, and we all know that’s going to happen to Raya and Namari eventually lol.

Second is Mirabel with In the Tike of the Butterflies, by Julia Alvarez. I feel like Mirabel would be the most invested in her family in keeping up with the outside, in magical world, as both a breather from all her family’s guilt and drama, and as a future head of the household later on. In her life. I also know that the Latin world paid a lot of attention to the struggle and loss of the Mirabal sisters (The Butterflies) and what with the book being told by Dede (the non-revolutionary sister, the only survivor) and being about a 4 sisters, Mirabel would empathize with this a lot. She’s one out of 3 sisters + a close girl cousin, and is the only one who’s not involved with what made her family famous. Encanto takes place in about the 1950s, maybe 60s, so Mirabel would definitely be interested in this book, because she would have definitely been interested in the real life events that occurred when she was young (the events of the book and the real life murders of the Mirabal sisters occurred form the 40s to 1960, but this book was published in the 90s)

Third is Dolores with Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen. I feel like she is a more overlooked member of the Madrigals, and she probably is a BIG Romantic at heart, though I bet she keeps it secret. as such, I gave her one of the most Romantic books I have as a background.

Fourth is Isabela with The Giver, by Lois Lowry. I think she would find the themes of huge responsibility and the focus on perfection by society to be quite pertinent to her lot in life at the beginning of Encanto.

Fifth is Luisa with Jacob I have Loved, by Katherine Paterson. The title is a reference to the Bible saying, “Jacob I have loved, but Esau I have hated.”. I DID think about giving this one to Mirabel, but ultimately chose Luisa because I feel like Mirabel never felt she had a chance to live up to Isabela, while Luisa probably felt like she had a chance to under all that *pressure* (lol), like Sarah Louise (the Esau) with her twin sister Caroline (the Jacob). I think the themes of small town life (SL in the book moves from a small coastal island to a mountain town, and the Madrigals live in the mountains) would also speak to Luisa.

I couldn’t decide for Shuri and also wanted to show her off more, so she gets two books! The first is my copy of the collected Infinity War comics, because she appears in it, and the second is The Deep by Rivers Solomon. Shuri gets The Deep because it’s about a mermaid whose people were the magically-transformed fetuses of pregnant African people who were thrown overboard while being transported to the Americas for enslavement. As Shuri’s movie is both about a strong African nation and about a people pushed underwater by colonialism and racism, I just felt that it was fitting. If you look in her hands, one has a heart shaped herb and the other has the bracelet from Namor.

As a romantic and a girl obsessed with the surface, I believe Ariel would love The Princess Bride, full stop. I also think the framing premise would tickle her.

Last but not least, Asha! Her movie ofc hints at her becoming the fairy godmother and crossing over with fairy/Disney tales, so I gave her The Sisters Grimm!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

#all the girls are in order of appearance/mention #dp dolls book photoshoot #the last unicorn #in the time of the butterflies #pride and prejudice #the giver #Jacob I have loved #infinity war #the deep #the princess bride #the sisters grimm

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the-nimbasa-trio · 10 months ago

Note

*Echo smiled, blue eyes lighting up.*

"That's so sweet! I know how hard a language barrier can be, it was uh-hm." *She paused, before pushing forward.* "I'm an empath. It's meant to connect me with Titan and other pokemon. Part of the whole-" *She gestured to her hair.* "Shiny business. Doesn't allow me to do much other than know if a pokemon is happy or sad or whatever. But it made me a very weird kid, especially since I couldn't tell what other *people* were feeling."

*She shrugged, a lax expression on her face.*

"Like I said, kids would bully me, but their pokemon would protect me. Started up a rumor that I was mind controlling pokemon, and since I could only tell the...vibes of the pokemon, who *liked me*, it was exceptionally easy for me to be tricked into getting hurt. And then the pokemon would realize their trainer was hurting me in some way, and that'd cause infighting, and it just-"

*She sighs, looking over at the twins.*

"It was so hard, feeling like I was speaking a language nobody else could understand. I can only imagine how hard it is to *actually be in that situation.* I'm sure you guys were probably the one good thing happening to Elesa when everything else seemed like it was horrible."

*She smiled at their comment on trains, rocking back and forth slightly.*

"I'm no expert when it comes to trains, but I'm well aware you guys are. When we have some free time, you should *absolutely* infodump on me. The steam engine is a work of *art* and you guys could probably give me the entire history on the paints alone."

Ingo nodded in understanding, but towards the infodumping he perked up. He had to hold himself back, and Emmet, from infodumping right there and then. Now was not the time. "Well, don't worry, Mx. Echo! We'll keep you safe."

Emmet nodded in agreement and gave a respectful solute. "I know how it is to get bullied," they commented and shrugged a bit, brushing it off. "It isn't fun. I also have the curse of knowing if someone is lying, too. If someone lied to my face, I'd sense something is wrong. I'll try and get more information. As a result, it makes me kind of weird."

"It's useful," Ingo replied and patted his brother on the back. "But hey, we're just a group of weirdos that can stick together. That's why we befriended Elesa, too! He needed a friend that understood him. We happened to fit the criteria! Now we're inseparable, and no matter what happens, we'll stick together."

"Yup yup! So now you're part of the squad. Welcome!" Emmet cheered which, surprisingly, went along with the sudden cheers of the crowd around them.

The twins spun on their heels to look at the battle, and on the screen behind Elesa, it displayed how many Pokemon each trainer had. Elesa was down to Typhoon, who looked tired and weakened, while the opponent had only his Togekiss. Ingo and Emmet were caught off-guard by how quickly the battle was nearing its end, but when they checked their respective watches, it's been going on for far longer than expected.

When the opponent trainer flew his hand out in front of him, he didn't need to call a command. The Togekiss flew forward and a ball of pink energy formed in front of her mouth, and she torpedoed it forward. The Moonblast struck its target despite Typhoon's attempt at avoiding the fast strike, and smoke flung in every direction from the sheer power this Togekiss wielded.

Emmet shielded Echo and the Zorua from the smoke, while Ingo coughed and acted as an extra barrier. Once the smoke cleared, Elesa's dumbfounded expression and posture became visible, and Typhoon's fainted body laid on the runway. The opponent was the victor.

Elesa gave a small smile and recalled Typhoon into his pokeball. He sighed and walked up to the purple-haired trainer. He extended his hand and clasped the opponent's in a show of sportsmanship. "Congratulations, Dolor, for defeating the Nimbasa City gym. You fought well out there."

When he pulled away, the badge was in Dolor's hand. It shone brilliantly in the light of the stadium. "It was a pleasure, Elesa. You fought brilliantly, as well."

Elesa nodded in response and turned towards the crowd. "And here you have it! The winner of the battle! I'll sign autographs in ten minutes, so get ready for a personal meet and greet!"

The crowd began cheering again as Elesa left behind stage.

#pokemon #ingo #subway master ingo #chapter 2 #lebirbybitch #submas #subway boss ingo #ingo pokemon #elesa pokemon #elesa pkmn #gym leader elesa #pokemon elesa #subway master emmet #emmet pokemon #pokemon emmet #emmet #pokemon ingo #nimbasa trio #nimbasa trio au

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bombasticprimekitty · 1 year ago

Text

Side Story: The Plight Of A Living Home

The family was down. That much Casita could tell.

Not that it can blame them.

For the most part, they were handling it relatively fine. But only when they were together. The very moment they were left alone and that they thought no one was watching was when they fell apart. Their grief let out to the world and yet still cages to the confine of its halls. Their tears soaking its floor, their fingernails scratching its walls, even upturning their furniture when things get too much to bear.

Everyone is trying to be strong for one another. But what Casita knows about humans is that they can only take so much before they break. And when they break they can’t be fixed like it can. They don’t have tiles that can be replaced, or a paint that can be renewed, or a window sill to be changed. Humans are fragile creatures, they need each other to survive.

But it can’t really help them all that much, even when Lord Arceus gave life to it and tasked it to protect and care for them.

It was just that Casita doesn't understand how. It was after all, just a house. An inanimate object.

Alma never gives it a chance to help deal with her grief. Even when she was still grieving for Pedro and taking care of the three infants. The old woman never falters in her decision. Remaining stubborn till this day to carry her baggage alone. Casita had all but given up on trying to comfort her and just help her with whatever task that needed it’s help.

It doesn’t know where to begin to comfort Julieta, whose eyes are hollow and dead, and body seemingly decaying due to the lack of effort on her part to take care of herself, making her not too dissimilar to that of a corpse. Though, thankfully Agustine was there to help her through her hardship, Casita can only hope he takes care of himself as well.

With Pepa, Casita would let her storm through its halls, just letting her grief and rage out, letting the woman destroy any tiles or things with her lightning and wind if it meant she didn’t bottle her emotion up. So she wouldn’t crumble under the guilt and sorrow that her sister fell victim to.

Everything in its halls are replaceable, the family isn’t.

Felix in its opinion was handling his sorrow the ‘best’. He was trying to be productive, constantly going on patrol with the other men. Checking every corner of the Encanto to make sure it is safe, and generally helping strengthen the Encanto’s defenses. But on the other hand, he was spending less and less time in the house, in turn making Pepa worse as there was no one there to help calm her down.

And then there were the kids. Casita didn’t know where to begin with them all. Camilo and Mirabel were easier to handle, while they were sad, a playful distraction was enough to get their minds off of their sadness. Although this method only works with Camilo most of the time while Mirabel only reacts a couple of times, she was unfortunately too wrapped up in her own head to respond to it most of the time.

Luisa had been crying nonstop and had barricaded herself in her room, everyone had tried to get in, to try and comfort her but she had wanted to be alone, even placing a large rock in front of the door so that even Casita couldn't get in. But it had a lot of tricks up its walls, so it had been putting a glass of water next to the crying girl to hydrate herself. She’ll come out on her own when she’s ready, she always does.

And finally Dolores… Out of everyone in the house, she would be the one who takes it the hardest. She was very close to the two of them after all. Isabela her self-proclaimed twin and rival, Bruno her favorite person. And she was dealing with her sadness in the worst way possible. Her mood was all over the place, sometimes she was sad, sometimes she went timid, and sometimes she wasn’t responsive at all. But most of the time she was angry.

Very, very angry.

Many times now, Dolores had snapped at everybody. It doesn’t matter what they did, it just seemed to set her off. She had even yelled at one point, and she never yells as it hurts her ears. Even her partners weren’t safe from her wrath. Though thankfully none of the other kids was ever under her crossfire. But sooner or later, she’ll or someone else will get hurt.

Casita doesn’t know where all the rage comes from. Though it had been alive for years, human emotions and motives still escape it. Finding itself confused whenever they do something that doesn’t align with what they normally do. Like Dolores right now.

So Casita is oblivious to how to help her.

Sometimes, it wishes that Lord Arceus gave it some semblance of a guide to help it traverse through this confusing time. It wishes to do more for the family from just the day to day mundane task. Casita had grown to genuinely love this family, beyond the artificial bonds that Lord Arceus had included in its creation. It doesn’t want to see them sad like this, destroying themselves like this. All of them are falling apart, and through all the chaotic mess of emotions they were feeding it, it feels itself growing weaker and weaker by the day. Experiencing so many emotions through their connections at the same time was… Tiring.

But it was just a house that was born from Lord Arceus' will. It was not designed to handle such heavy emotion. But that begs the question…

What can it do?

#Encanto #encanto au #Lost Constellation Au #Side Story #set before the main story #casita #mirabel madrigal #julieta madrigal #agustin madrigal #pepa madrigal #felix madrigal #dolores madrigal #camilo madrigal #abuela alma madrigal #luisa madrigal #pokemon au

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in-tua-deep · 5 years ago

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Hufflepuff Five! He has traits that would help him fit in any of the houses, but underneath, everything he does is motivated by his love for his siblings so Hufflepuff would be the best fit. Also, just the idea of the house full of sweethearts dealing with Five the undercover sweetheart is funny and adorable. In this au would Delores be a fellow Hufflepuff that Five bonds with or would she be a ghost or a painting?

Hufflepuff Five is a valid child, bless. Me? Purposefully sorting the Hargreeves so that there’s two to every house except Five who is alone? It’s probably about as likely as you think actually but in hindsight it’s a cool move

Five isn’t sure what to make of Hufflepuff at first, admittedly. Someone told Five that Hufflepuff is for “everyone else” and is a catch all house for rejects from the others, so he’s not exactly thrilled about it. Especially because he’d rather be in a house with his siblings

(Ravenclaw definitely because he loves Ben and Vanya best, but he’d grudgingly accept Slytherin - maybe not Gryffindor though because quite frankly he doesn’t want to get between Luther and Diego butting heads ugh)

Five is sorted last of the siblings because his name is listed as ‘5 Hargreeves’ and they weren’t sure whether they should put numbers before or after letters and they ended up putting it after so Five got sorted last.

But his new housemates are surprisingly fierce. They tell him that they’re not the catch all house, and even if they were all that means is that one of their ideals is acceptance and no one gets left behind.

(Five refused to leave any of his siblings behind, not even Luther who he thinks is an idiot every day ending in a y. So he understand that ideal on a personal level.)

They tell him that Hufflepuff means loyalty and hard work. It means forming ranks and protecting one another, of standing firm and tall and strong. Bending, but never breaking. Hufflepuffs are unassuming, everyone discounts them, but it was a Hufflepuff who was chosen to represent the entire school during the triwizard tournaments.

(They whisper Cedric’s name with reverence, with mourning, but also with pride. He wasn’t the Chosen One, he was just an ordinary boy and he was still chosen and performed admirably, with noble intentions and kindness. He was a Hufflepuff.)

So the older years look at the boy with a number for a name who is wary of everyone and protective of his siblings and they soften. Strangely enough, the child abuse cases usually end up in Slytherin with far more frequency that then other houses (there is something to be said, for cunning and resourcefulness sitting in the hearts of eleven-year-olds) but Hufflepuff has had their share.

So when they catch Five sneaking out in the middle of the night, the prefects show him the secret passageways and the quickest routes to the other common rooms and look the other way. When they notice Five stealing away food in napkins in the great hall, they take all the little firsties on a field trip to the kitchens and show them how to tickle the pear.

(When Five approaches a seventh year with hands clenched into firsts and asks how to cast silencing charms around his bed, the seventh year takes him to the library and presses books about wards into his hands. If the pages with wards to chase away bad dream is bookmarked well, it came like that.)

(Five spends the next week sneaking into the Slytherin dorms and carving runes into Klaus’s bedposts. He only does his own as an afterthought, honest.)

Five pretends he doesn’t really care for his housemates, except they keep sneaking under his skin. The magicborn ones have nightmares, too. They lived through a war. Some of them tell Five they’re orphans, but he learns later that their parents are in wizarding prison for following a genocidal maniac. Five ends up carving good dream runes on almost every bed in the dorm.

They teach him how to play exploding snap and gobstones. They beg him for help in charms and ask him to read over their transfiguration essays. They show him all the good passageways. They drag him along behind them when a handful of them want to go investigate the Forbidden Forest because Five is the best at defense spells! Please! They’d be so much safer with Five there.

Abby keeps snacks in her pockets and is always offering some to Five, who takes them because his ability to jump tends to jumpstart his metabolism and takes a lot of energy. James helps Five with wand movements and sends for books from his family’s personal library when Five can’t find what he needs.

Jasmine is a fifth year who ruffles his hair and picks him up and spins him around, but she always telegraphs her intentions and gives him the option to back up and duck out. Hamish is a seventh year who fusses over all the first years and walks them through difficult homework assignments in his spare time. Rowan teaches him all the fun jinxes which aren’t actually in the curriculum but they insist are extremely important for every little witch and wizard to learn.

No one minds when Five ditches them at meals and muscles his way into the Slytherin table to pile more food on Klaus’s plate and trade barbs with the Slytherins (who are all secretly fond of the Very Slytherin Hufflepuff). No one minds when Five steals Ben and Vanya from the Ravenclaw table and drags them to eat with him so they can regale him with the riddles they’ve answered and slip Five books they they stole from their common room

(not that Five couldn’t get into the Ravenclaw common room. he can and will get into every house common room. It drives all the other house prefects and house pride kids insane. No one can figure out how he keeps popping up and bypassing the security. The other Hargreeves children roll their eyes but keep their lips zipped as well.

The other houses have approached Hufflepuff to beg them to put a leash on Five, but they close ranks and smile and tell them that if they can’t keep a first year from their common rooms, then it’s really their problem, isn’t it?)

sometimes Five mentions something offhand that he thought was normal but then the others just look like someone hit the ‘pause’ button for a few seconds as they process before giving Five a look which screams on god i will escort you to a psychologist myself

One of the seventh year prefects corners Five early on and asks him if he’s safe at home and basically offers to smuggle him out of Hogwarts come break if necessary. Five, who assumed it was common knowledge, is just kind of like “oh we lived with McGonagall for most of the summer. I dunno where we’re going next summer, but we’re staying at Hogwarts for winter break and stuff, so. yeah.”

and that prefect breathes a sigh of relief and passes on to the other prefects (in Hufflepuff and out of it) that the Hargreeves kids are Not In Custody Of Their Shitty Abusive Father

James: wow muggles sure have to get creative to abuse their kids huh

Five: i think dad was just. a special case. most parents can’t just toss their kids off a roof and expect no repercussions.

Abby: oh hey you could bond with Mr. Longbottom - the guy who’s training under Professor Sprout and is always around the greenhouse? I think his family tossed him out a window.

honestly the ONLY reason Five and the squad were probably taken away wasn’t even the Rampant Abuse because let’s be real Neville and Harry were never looked into. The reason was that Reginald was planning to ‘expose’ the magical community through the kids ‘powers’ and they couldn’t have that, especially not by a muggle goodness gracious.

(Honestly, there’s a high likelihood that Reginald/Pogo/even Grace if that’s possible were probably obliviated - with contact with government people in the know to fix records etc. - and the knowledge of the magical community and the kids was straight up erased. After all, if Reginald was planning to expose ‘magic’ then he can’t be trusted with any knowledge even related to it)

as for Dolores

Five is thirteen and he learns about the chamber of secrets and all that and everyone is like “yeah only a parselmouth can get in there” and Five is like “haha you thought” because he can jump regardless of apparation wards so he trots on over to the girls bathroom, inspects the sink for a while, and then jumps

which was probably a mistake because he jumps into the empty space underneath yeah but it’s a dramatic slide down fuCK and he just pinwheels down and ends up in the chamber of secrets. Nice.

and so he does what everyone in the books didn’t seem to do - he explores. And look, Slytherin clearly spent a good amount of time down there, he probably left a bunch of stuff. It’s probably booby trapped, but Five has a passion for wards after the bad dream ones and he’s a malicious little shit so he also loves booby traps so.

Slytherin would probably roll in his grave to know that a thirteen-year-old goes down to the Chamber of Secrets to systematically dismantle all the fun curses and traps just to pass the time.

And within one of the booby trapped rooms is a painting, and within this painting is a teenage girl with close cropped hair and a raised eyebrow. She’s older than Five (for now) and she asks him what he’s doing here.

“Exploring,” Five says, with a shrug, rifling through some of the pieces of parchment still on the desk. “What about you?”

“What do you mean?” The girl asks, looking confused.

“What are you doing down here?” Five clarifies, poking at a suspicious looking jar with his wand.

“I’m a painting.” The girl says, crossing her arms, “Someone put me down here.”

“Who?”

“None of your business!”

Five shrugs, “Okay. Do you have a name, then?”

“Dolores.” Dolores says, not offering a last name. “You?”

“Five.” He shrugs through her incredulous look, “Yeah, like the number. Do you know what’s in this jar?”

It turns out she does. In fact, she knows an awful lot about pretty much everything down in the chamber, though she refuses to give him hints when it comes to what curses and wards and traps there are. She laughs at him when his attempts blow up in his face and ruins his umpteenth uniform for the year

(“Honestly Mr. Hargreeves.” Professor McGonagall says severely when he shows up with burned holes in his robes and a mildly sheepish expression. “This is the fourth time this week.”

“I can’t seem to get a hang of this spell.” Five says, mild as milk even though they’re both fully aware that he’s lying.

McGonagall just fixes his robes and tells him to ask a seventh year to help or something with his ‘spell difficulty’ and Five thanks her brightly and flounces off to go directly back to the chamber and do some more wardbreaking while Dolores critiques everything he does)

“Did you know Salazar Slytherin?” Five asks her, frowning down at the book on ancient runes.

Dolores sniffs, “I don’t want to talk about Sally. He wasn’t even that impressive.”

Five pauses in his writing for a second, “I am calling him Sally every day for the rest of my life and especially when I sit at the Slytherin table holy fuck.”

“He sucked at arithmancy.” Dolores offers with a shrug, “And his charm work was mediocre.”

“And yours was better?” Five asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Please,” Dolores scoffs, “I could cast circles around him.”

“Teach me?” Five asks, because he’s never been one to discard any leg up or resource.

“I’m just a painting.” Dolores says, frowning. “I can’t actually cast spells.”

“You don’t have to. Just explain them.”

“Oh,” Dolores bites her lip, “Oh. I don’t think anyone’s really cared about what paintings know before.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be the first.”

“Just for that I’m teaching you the shitty ones first.” Dolores tells him.

Five doesn’t tell anyone about her. He doesn’t tell anyone at all about the chamber, though he initially wanted to go down there to set up a spot for him and his siblings to gather. But it ends up being a place he can just go and escape to be by himself - because not many people know how to get down there.

“You know I’m not real.” Dolores tells him one day, when he’s trying to tackle the curses on one of the hidden rooms.

Five shrugs, “You seem pretty real to me.”

“I’m just a painting. An imprint of someone who died years and years ago tied to paint. I’m - ”

“Two dimensional?” Five asks with a grin, and she swears at him colorfully for his cheek. “Look, Dolores. I never knew whatever version of you walked among us mere mortals - though I’m sure she was appropriately terrifying - so I don’t care about that person. I know you, as you are. I don’t care if you aren’t ‘real’ or whatever. Does it matter? I like talking to you.”

Dolores is silent for a long while after that. Five turns his attention to his notes while she thinks - sometimes she needs a moment to process.

“Hey Five?” She asks, only continuing when she hears him hum. “Can you figure out how to destroy a magical painting?”

He looks up at her, a question in his eyes.

“I spent - I was down here for a really long time, Five. Alone. You’re going to leave Hogwarts one day, and you’re going to get all old and gross and wrinkly and then you’re going to die. But I won’t, because I’m not alive. I just want - ” Dolores trails off, looking frustrated. “I just want to know if it’s something even possible.”

Five considers this, and then he shrugs. “Yeah, okay.”

“Just like that?” Dolores sounds shocked, but Five just nods.

“Yeah. It’s your immortal not-life, I figure you should get a say in it, right?”

Dolores is quiet after that, but when Five goes to leave, he hears he whisper a quiet thank you. Five only offers her a smile as he mentally carves out time to raid the library and maybe the Ravenclaw common room for information.

I think Five keeps her company until she’s ready to let go (unlike the actual show where he lets her go). I dunno it’s just a really sad and poignant side story in Five’s life about letting go and mortality and agency and choice and what it means to be a person and how to live and how to die

Five and Dolores’s relationship is really complicated in the show so I wanted it to ALSO be really complicated in the wizarding world oof so yeah there you have it in this particular hp au Dolores is a painting in the Chamber of Secrets of a teenage girl who is just a little too smart and just a little too sentient and just a little too lonely

#funkierdionysus #hp au #tua/hp crossover #five hargreeves #hufflepuff!five #five is assimilated into the great badger fold #five makes hufflepuff friends!!#he sneaks around and is dramatic and makes mischief!#five probably finds so many secret passageways he isn't supposed to know about #i just feel like the castle would like five as a whole tbh #purposefully lead him towards shit #dolores is a painting and it's very sad #klaus still has nightmares but five tries to help #five is boss at ancient runes and arithmancy #i feel like wards would be a specialty because it's kind of like maths?#wards are sort of equations shush

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fabricated-misslieness · 3 years ago

Text

pairing: platonic los primos madrigal x gn reader

req: no | wc: 1.1k

summary: The youngest Madrigals each held a heavy secret, which is unknowingly mutually shared. Now that he no longer lives within the walls, you’re free to share your secret about tío Bruno.

a/n: reader understands spanish. what does the fandom call Pepa and Julieta’s children, los primos or grandchildren? he/they pronouns for Camilo

“Hey, Camilo, remember what you said about tío Bruno? “7 foot frame, rats along his back,”” Mirabel recalls, trying to hold back her laughter, “What was that all about? He’s barely even taller than me! And he’s just about your height!”

“Well-” The shapeshifter is about to begin, but Isabela cuts him off.

“Ah, don’t tell me you were scared of him, primito.” She snickers. Everyone in town was scared of him, actually; though Camilo was often one to be a little arrogant. If he was scared of him, he wouldn’t outright admit it. “When he calls your name, it all fades to black.”?”

Camilo’s face scrunches up in annoyance –at least that’s what you think– and says, “I-I’m not scared of him!” Through their stutter, you realize it was more than annoyance. He was trying to hide his former fear for his tío too, except he failed. They clear their throat, “I have my reasons. What I said was extremely reasonable!”

Isabela quirks both her eyebrow and her head to the side, “Really?”

“Yes, absolutely.” He takes a raggedy breath and recounts the story, “It was one gloomy night a long time ago,” Ever the dramatic, that Camilo, “I was hungry. So I snuck into the kitchen, whose butterfly tiles illuminated the counters with an eerie glow-”

“Get to the point already!” Antonio demands.

The older brother rolls their eyes, “Right there, in the middle of the kitchen, was tío Bruno. I was short and I was six, okay? Tío Bruno towered over little six year old me! And then he called out my name in surprise, “Camilo!” because he had left the house- er, begun to live in the walls the year before. I wasn’t supposed to see him, y’see? Anyway, I was so scared that I…”

“You?”

He sighs, “...fainted.”

The group begins to laugh, and Camilo is left in the midst of it all with his lips smothered in a thin line. “I get it, I get it.” They continue to laugh. “It’s funny, I know.” Doesn’t seem like it’ll stop soon. “¡OKAY YA CALLENSE!” (OKAY SHUT UP ALREADY!)

“Wait, wait,” You wipe a tear from your eye that had fallen throughout your maniacal laughter, “so that’s why your house has always been a little scary? Haunted, I mean.”

Being the outsider here, you weren’t present during their little ‘So, we gonna talk about Bruno?’ family reunion. “I thought something was off every time I came over for dinner.”

“Oh,” Mirabel winces, “about that… There’s a little crack or something on the family tree painting by the dinner table, and… Bruno stares through it during dinner. It’s nothing creepy or stalkerish, I swear! He’s just always been rather lonely during his time away. He’s even got a little plate he painted for himself on the table beside the crack.”

“Oh…” This is quite the transition from all out laughter to sadness, you note. “Eso es…” (That's...)

“Muy triste.” Luisa finishes for you. “Hmm, wait, Camilo’s story got me thinking.” She begins, “I’ve also seen tío Bruno after he left. I just always assumed it was my little secret!” (Very sad.)

Realization flashes through the relatives’ minds. They all shared this one secret, they just didn’t know it. Choruses of agreeances chime throughout the room: “Same!”, “Me too!”, “I thought I was the only one!”

“I feel left out.” Antonio notes, “I knew about this too, the rats told me. I just haven’t been holding it for as long as you have!”

“You don’t want to keep such a secret for ten years.” Dolores remarks. She’s known the longest, of course, because she could hear through the walls, which meant she could hear within them too. Of all the secrets within the town, this was the one she was the most faithful in keeping. Dolores was quite the chismosa, actually; She recounted many town secrets to you often. It was surprising how she could keep this secret to herself. (quite the gossiper, actually)

Isabella nods along, “About that crack in the family portrait… I noticed it when I was younger, too. I was very interested in it, and I didn’t have full control over my powers I used too, so I spent quite some time trying to make vines small enough to fit.”

“And how much time was it?”

“Three… no, was it four? Five? It couldn’t have been a week.” She mutters to herself, then later remembers it didn’t quite matter, “Whatever. Practice takes time, so it definitely wasn’t within the day I found it.” Mirabel was delighted in the idea that Isabela wasn’t perfect from the start, but she didn’t show it.

“When I finally stuck a tiny vine through, I figured out I could make it grow bigger once it was inside. Long story short, I moved the vine from side to side and knocked over many things. I could hear them dropping, and I could also hear tío Bruno’s yelps. They were funny, but I was absolutely terrified back then. Who was this man in the walls? Then I heard him shout, “Salt!” and knew it was him.”

“Oh, that’s what that was.” Dolores giggles to herself, “I was very curious about it. Tía Julieta was very confused when I came into the kitchen asking if any pots had fallen.”

“Hmm,” Luisa rubs the back of her neck, “I feel like my story’s boring now. One time I was lifting weights, and I misjudged how light the weights would feel to carry, so I accidentally flung one past my shoulder.” She winces at the thought of it, “Huge hole in the wall, almost as big as me. Actually,” She laughs, “it wasn’t so bland. I found tío Bruno by that wall. It seemed he’d just about managed to duck before he got hit by a weight. His face,” She’s trying really hard not to laugh now, “I wish you could’ve seen it!”

“Can you imitate it?” Luisa imitates his face, and the relatives begin to laugh.

“So is the hole still there?”

She shakes her head, “No, sadly. Casita locked the door to that part of my room for a while, and then when it finally opened the hole had been patched up.”

“Bummer…”

“So you guys have been keeping your secrets for years now, and I just found out because of some stupid rats and a painting?” Mirabel’s face is painted with disbelief, and then quickly in apology when Antonio shakes his head at her. “Like, seriously, I just found out a couple days ago.”

“It was a hard secret to keep, Mirabel.” Camilo says, “Mamá and tía always get so sad on their birthday…”

“Mhm,” Dolores humms, “Los escucho después en sus cuartos, tu sabes, llorando…” Speaking of hearing people, she suddenly tilts her head as she hears something interesting. “You know what I just heard? Apparently papá y tío Agustín knew.” (I hear them afterwards in their rooms, you know, crying...)

Gasps of shock ring throughout the room. Dolores interrupts it all with, “They just called each other ‘bros’.”

#camilo madrigal x reader #dolores madrigal x reader #antonio madrigal x reader #isabela madrigal x reader #luisa madrigal x reader #mirabel madrigal x reader #family madrigal x reader #familia madrigal x reader #encanto x reader #encanto x gn reader #🌸 // success!#madrigal family x reader #🎟 // encanto #🎫 // familia madrigal #🎫 // madrigal family

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justaghostingon · 3 years ago

Text

The Ghost in the Walls

“If you leave this house, you’re dead to me!”

“I wish I was Dead!”

Slam!

Dolores jumped awake, cold sweat running down her back. Hazy with disorientation, she reached out a hand, hoping to grab on to a green parka. It came back empty.

But of course it did. It had been two weeks. Two weeks of silence at meals, two weeks of Mirabel crying, to weeks of Abuela’s simmering anger, two weeks since Tio Bruno had…had…

It was too silent.

Her room was designed for silence, to muffle any sound from outside no matter how small, to give a young Dolores a sanctuary as she adjusted to the loud, loud, loud her gift had given her. Usually, this was a blessing. A place she could hide away and not listen to the constant stream of noise that seemed to eminate from every direction. She loved silence. Most of the time.

But lately, it had grown to oppressive, to weighty, like the silence of the town when Mirabel hadn’t recieved a gift. Like the silence of Abuela as she refused to talk to Mirabel. Like the silence of Tio Bruno in his last days…before…

“I wish I was dead!”

She needed to get out. Toeing on her shoes, she hurried to the heavy padded door and turned the silent handle, slipping outside. The cool night air greeted her with a soft howl as she took a deep breath, and began to listen.

First she heard her mama and papa, soft snores accented by gentle breathing, a duet made all their own. Then she listened for Camilo, weezy breaths echoing in her ears. Next was Isabella’s gentle sighs, soft as the flowers she breathed into existence. And from beside her Lusia’s stready heartbeat plowed on like a drum. She could hear Mirabel’s own gentle rocking as Casita moved her bed in the nursery, so gentle with the sad girl that remained of her once bright cousin. Tia julietta and tio Augustine lay nearby, a loud rumble of snores and snorts from them both. Lastly Abuela, steady and flickering as their candle that always burned.

Everyone was safe, everyone was asleep. Dolores took another deep breath, letting the combined sounds wash over her, slowly relaxing her body as they grounded her.

Creak!

Dolores eyes shot open.

As she’d grown more comfortable with her gift, Dolores had come to know the every sound the animals made, from the clomp of a donkey, to the pitterpatter of the mice in the walls. That sound was far to loud to come from a mouse, and to angled to come from anything on four legs. That was a human’s footstep.

Someone was in the house!

Dolores froze, panic racing in her blood. Should she run? Should she scream? Were they after the candle?

The creak came again, farther away, like it was moving to the nursery. Mirabel! Dolores took off in a sprint, the rage of a 12 year old girl tired of seeing her little cousin hurt overruling any logic left in her brain.

The creaking must have heard her, because it too began to happen quicker, as whoever it was began to run. Together they raced across the house, matching in speed, but even as her ears told her the intruder should be right ahead, she still saw nothing. It was almost as if…

Dolores stopped dead.

Was it…a ghost?

A ghost in casita, she took a half step back, she was hardly prepared for a human intruder, what could she do against a ghost?

The creaking kept going, moving toward the painting on the wall, until a loud thud came through.

“Ahh mi!” Hissed the ghost.

But Dolores new that voice. Like she knew every voice in her family. She knew that heartbeat of erratic rythym, and the soft way he breathed, even now careful not to disturb her to much.

“Tio Bruno?” Dolores asked.

There was silence.

“I know your there,” Dolores took a step forward, all fear forgotten. Ghost or not this was her Tio, he’d never hurt her. “I can hear you.”

A pause, then a very scratchy voice went. “I’m not Bruno! I’m Hernandez! Just doing my duty, fixing walls! Sorry for waking you!”

Dolores giggled. It sounded like those silly voices Tio Bruno would do for her and Isabella when they’d been little and wanted a story, and then for Lusia, and then for Camillo and Mirabel. “Tio I’m not four anymore! I know your voice!”

Another pause and then, “bye.”

The creaking returned as tio bruno began to shuffle away.

“No!” Dolores threw up a hand. “Don’t leave!”

The creaking stopped. “Why aren’t you in bed Dolores?“ Tio Bruno said, voice tired.

“I had a nightmare,” Dolores admits. A nightmare about you. She doesn’t say. She wants to. She wants to tell him. To grab him and hold on until he promised to stay and not leave her, because she needed him! Who cares if no one else did!

But there was no body to grab hold of, no sleeve to pull and pull with all her strength.

She opens her mouth, to cry, to beg, she doesn’t know. But instead what comes out is: “Could you tell me a story?”

Tio bruno hesitates, and she knows they are both thinking of how he would tell her stories when he found her wandering around like this at night, until the nightmares went away.

Finally he speaks, voice soft and scratchy, “once upon a time there was a mouse…”

Dolores smiles.

Later her mother will find her, curled up in front of the portait, a table cloth covering her like a blanket. Later there will be questions and worries and parents to reassure. But for now, there is only Dolores, her favorite Tio and a brave little mouse to scare the nightmares away.

#encanto #bruno madrigal #tio bruno #dolores madrigal #disney has me again help #i love this movie #uncle/neice bonding #dolores always knew #bruno

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fourangers · 3 years ago

Text

Some random sad Encanto headcannon

- I noticed that Pedro's (Abuelo) portrait is painted, not a photograph. That meant that it was Alma's decision to search for a painter, and being probably the few one that remembers his appearance vividly, had to talk about how he looked or maybe found some old photos to help the painter.

That also meant that she had to resurface the sad fact that her husband was dead. Yes, that's the right shade, his eyes were kind just like that, his hair was smooth as I remembered and his smile made him look so handsome...

- Isabela's resentment towards Mirabel is due to the fact that she's envious how Mirabel has zero expectations for not having a gift, but also because she was expecting, that at least her own sister would see past the mask of perfection she used to have.

So it breaks her heart every time that Mirabel makes snide remarks about she's miss Perfect, or jokes about how she has everything and doesn't have one strand of hair out of place. When those remarks turn to bitter resentment she lost most hope towards Mirabel and returns those words with her own poison to her sister back.

- Isabela's solace that Luisa understands the pressure Abuela throws on them, even if it's a subconscious level. They probably shared some significant eye glance whenever Abuela gives more chore to Luisa, or when she asks Isabela to put more makeup to hide some skin blemish.

- Camillo became the jokester of the family because it is his nature, had his father as a good role model, and probably because his gift arrived in a very bad situation. Bruno just disappeared and Mirabel didn't have any gift. So he used his powers to alleviate some of the tension and when it worked, he just rolled with it.

- Dolores probably had some inferiority complex towards her cousin Isabela. First, Isabela is "prettier" than her (I'm putting quotes because I find them both beautiful but the town probably had a preference over Isabela) and Isabela's gift is certainly aesthetically more pleasing in comparison than hers. Not to mention that people get really suspicious about how she knows every secret in town at first. She learned to control her gift really fast because as a kid she must have accidentally spilled out some secrets that caused some family ruin, and hearing every single thing must had drove her crazy at first.

- Aside Dolores own room, she probably enjoyed visiting Bruno's room the most too. It's fairly quiet and there's nice sounds of sand moving.

#Encanto #encanto disney #Alma Madrigal #Camillo Madrigal #Isabela Madrigal #Mirabel Madrigal #Dolores Madrigal #disney

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slutforbuck · 3 years ago

Note

Hey, idk if your requests are open but could you write "The Letter": what if Bruno did take the reader with him? Perfectly fine if you don't want to write that, have a great day ^^

Hi love! I love this idea, I hope I did it justice! Let me know what you think!

The Letter -- Bruno Takes You With Him

You were always with the Madrigal triplets, the four of you were inseparable. You were there to help both Pepa and Julieta get ready for their weddings and care for their children. While you were very close, almost like a sister, with the girls, most often you were seen with Bruno. If you heard the name Bruno, it was most always associated with Y/n. After particularly bad visions, you would be the only one able to console him. It came to no surprise to anyone in the familia or village when your engagement was announced. Everything was amazing, just how you always dreamed it would be. One month before your wedding was sweet little Mirabel’s ceremony. You awoke the next morning expecting to see your Brunito’s face, but was instead faced with a letter on his pillow. The air hung heavy in the room, like the few moments before a hurricane.

Heavy sobs wracked your body as you stumbled down the stairs, frantically searching for Bruno. “Stay away. Stay away. This is better for her, for everyone. Bad Luck Bruno has no place in her life, she will move on.” Bruno peeked out from behind a painting, watching you run down the hallways of Casita. Finally exhausted from crying you fell to the floor, clutching his letter to your chest. “Please Brunito, come back to me. Please don't leave me here.” Barely a whisper, barely loud enough for even Dolores to hear. Your cries became silent, as tears fell like a summer storm down your face, until you fell asleep. Pacing back and forth, Bruno argued with himself. “I can’t bring her with me. I can’t make this her life.” “You can’t leave her alone to be miserable either Bruno. You know she loves only you.” Flipping his hood up and down, between being his normal, meek self and the daring, confident Hernando, he finally made a decision.

It was dim when you awoke, rubbing your sore, puffy eyes as you sat up. This..this isn’t the hallway. Trying to get your bearings, you studied the small room you were in. A small bed, a little table with two chairs, and a red armchair. This isn’t Bruno’s room either. Where am I? Timidly, you made your way to the bright red chair in the middle of the room. Why did it look so familiar….? “Um….Good..Good morning..” A soft voice came from the shadowy corner of the room and your head snapped towards it. Stepping into the light, you saw the familiar green ruana, but with the hood flipped up. “Buenos días,” hesitant to what you should say. “Um..Bru..Hernando, Where exactly are we?” The hooded man looked up, the hood silently falling, revealing Bruno’s eyes, filled with sadness and regret. “Well…We..We’re in Casita, Y/n. I know you read the lettter. I couldn’t..I’m hurting the family. I can’t let Mira be treated the way I am because of a stupid vision. I wanted to leave everyone, everything. Make it better for you..” His shoulders slumped in shame, afraid to meet your gaze. It took two steps for you to cross the small room and wrap your arms around him, pulling him in tight. “Mi vida..Please..We can go home.” A slender finger gently hooked underneath his chin, bringing his eyes up to yours. “No pequeño ratón, I can’t go back. I don’t want to leave, I want to watch my familia grow, but I can’t stay.” He turned from you, beginning to realize that he couldn’t ask you to stay hidden in the walls of Casita for the rest of your lives. That’s no life for a hermosa mujer like you. You watched with worried eyes as he began to pace, stressing over what to do. Finally you reached out a hand and stopped him. “Dulce esposo, come stay with me. I haven’t sold my house yet. There’s no need to LIVE in Casita’s walls. No one will have to know you’re there, I can even move closer to the mountains if need be. You can always sneak here and watch from the walls when you want to see your familia, and then we can talk about this more. You can rejoin the familia.” Eyes filled with love, Bruno pulled you close to him and pressed his warm lips to yours. “Gracias mi vida.” With a peck to his nose, you pulled him through the passageways. “I’ll always be here mi amor.”

#bruno madrigal x y/n #bruno madrigal x reader #madrigal #we dont talk about bruno #encanto bruno

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lizziesfirstwife · 3 years ago

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Hello! Would you mind writing me a story about Bruno Madrigal dating a Bruna? (That's my name btw) I was so happy to see it on the big screens but in Encanto I felt really touched. If that's ok she could an artist for the family or something? There are a lot of painting in the wall of casita, the family tree for example. Thanks a lot for your time! 💕

¡Mi alma gemela!

Warnings: None, maybe a few swear words, fem!reader (she/her)

Note: A young woman named Bruna has been a passionate artist since she was little. Alma Madrigal immediately recognized her talent for art, from then on she was the personal artist for the Casita of the Madrigal's. But not only artistic talents slumbered in the young woman, and no one expect one certain person seemed to notice them...

Translations:

°(¡Deja de tirar de mi falda Antonio!: Stop pulling on my skirt Antonio!)

°Mi alma gemela: My soulmate

°madre: mother

°abuela: grandmother

°1 kilometer= 0,621 miles

°cariño: my darling

°Mi vida: my life

"¡Deja de tirar de mi falda Antonio! I'm still older than you youngster!" He pulled his head away under my hand and gave me no chance to whirl through his curls. More than once his hand had found itself in my hair, as he loved to play around in it. And oh, how he loved attention. He sometimes pulled on my skirt when in his opinion it had to be, even if he knew that his mother almost always got wind of it and then scolded him. "I just want a picture of Paloma", he whined. I continued to focus on the last stroke in the new painting Isabela wanted next to her door, in exchange for a light purple dress in her wardrobe that I fell in love with.

"Antonio, I can't just paint a new painting for each of your animal friends", I almost had to laugh when I put the brush away and saw Antonio's sad face. "Well, if you're lucky, Bruno and I won't need so long with our plans today! And if you're nice to Dolores and won't annoy her with your caterpillars again, then maybe I'll consider it." The little boy nodded eagerly and hugged me from the side before running out of the kitchen.

"You know, maybe my madre lied to me and you're our lost sibling. We were quadruplets, that's why you're named Bruna, and I was blessed as Bruno!", my lover murmured with his head in my hair, arms around me whilst enjoying the sunbeams shining on our faces. I just shook my head and laughed. "You know that sounds very stupid, right? I'm younger than you, and we don't even look like each other." Bruno just shrugged his shoulders and picked a daisy. "Then you are just mi alma gemela! Besides, we talk about colombian genes after all. That's why Pepa has red hair, anything can happen. Nothing is impossible."

Bruno sat up and clung his arms around his knees so as not to fall over, and looked at me with a tired look. His hands played with the petals of the daisy. "Maybe, only hypothetical... If we were to have a son, wouldn't it be funny to call him Bruni or something?" The worried expression on my face changed to playful indignation. "Who says we won't have a daughter? Or triplets? You know what they say about male twins or triplets..." Bruno's eyes widened before a grin found it's place on his face. "Well, then I'd better start building baby cots."

"Abuela, you don't understand, she's definitely and one hundred percent pregnant." The elderly lady just shook her head at the claim of her second oldest granddaughter. "Dolores, this is nothing to speculate about. A real pregnancy is based on obvious characteristics. You can't just spy and overhear a conversation between the two of them that is a kilometer away", the woman scolded her granddaughter. Dolores was about to say something back when they heard a door slam and the person they were talking about enter the kitchen to go to the dinner table. "Ugh, I think Camilo thought the plate of arepas was for him. You can't even leave your food there for later.... Oh, good afternoon Abuela, Dolores!", the young woman greeted happily, her mouth stuffed with Julieta's food that was left on the counter for emergencies. The two women just stared at her, smiling politely. "Hey Bruna!", Dolores replied with a grin , who was also suddenly hungry at the sight of Julieta's arepas. Bruna looked at the two of them slightly hesitantly, unwilling to leave the kitchen because she had a bad feeling about leaving them alone. "Well, I won't bother you any further, I'll just go to Isabela's and bring her her painting..." With that, the young lady disappeared from the kitchen as quickly as she had appeared there. Abuela took Dolore's arm and patted it. "Very well, she is pregnant for sure."

"So, Bruna", Pepa began with her mouth full at dinner after the incident in the kitchen, "a little bird whispered to me that you are in joyful anticipation." The noodle I was chewing got stuck in my throat, Bruno had to pat me on the back several times to probably save my life. I knew that the whispering before dinner, and the rainbow over Pepa's head were a little suspicious. I cleared my throat and gave Bruno a grateful smile before looking at Pepa. My hands were clasped under the table, playing with the wedding ring on my finger that Bruno gave me half a year ago, on his knees and in tears. "Hermana! Don't make her nervous, I'd know if my wife was pregnant." I put my right hand on his left hand which was on the table, and slowly shrugged my shoulders. "Well, it wouldn't be completely out of the question. I hadn't had my ...problem... for two months."

I felt Bruno's surprised look on me, and heard Camilo choking playfully. Antonio tried to process my words, although he was still so young he knew that this would mean he would have a playmate, and no longer an adult who had to concentrate on her painting so. Dolores took advantage of her family's distraction and grabbed Camilo's food from his plate. Since he loved to take other people's food without asking, Dolores wanted to show him what it was like. She also loved baked baby carrots with pepper and salt, and saw this as her favorite side dish to tía Julietas arepas. Mirabel and the rest of the Madrigal girls didn't dare to talk, too eager to see what would happen next. "Are you serious cariño?", Bruno whispered without paying attention to the others. I nodded quickly, too afraid to take too much time with my answer, and too afraid of his reaction. But he just started grinning, and wrapped both arms around me. A relieved sigh went through the ranks of the Madrigals, and I could even see Abuela Alma smiling slightly out of the corner of my eye. "I love you mi vida, do you know that? You truly are mi alma gemela."

I'm sorry for taking so long to get this done, but first, Duolingo really claimed my time with the constant reminders. Then, I was really busy with trying to finish the book I was reading (I still have 24 pages left, ugh). And last, I started to watch Daredevil and was addicted to Matt Murdock x reader on here. I still am. So here is this request, with a not exactly requested ending, but I still hope this turned out quite good. I'm sorry for any writing mistakes, but let me know if you liked it :)

#encanto #pepa madrigal #bruno madrigal #bruno madrigal x reader #encanto drabble #let's talk about bruno #we don't talk about bruno #camilo madrigal #isabela madrigal #mirabel madrigal #julieta madrigal #bruno encanto x reader #bruno madrigal imagine #Bruno madrigal x pregnant reader #request

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