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secret-ssociety · a month ago
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i just started watching bridgerton and i thought about this prompt of anthony trying to court a girl by bringing her cow bc every time she sees one she goes 'cow!' and i'm sorry, i'll shut up now-
... i might write it tho
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secret-ssociety · 2 months ago
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I know it's been over a month and I haven't written anything, but I don't want you to think I don't miss these two idiots or that I've forgotten this story. I have just been insanely busy.
I promise, I swear, that I'll keep going if you just have the kindness to wait for me
ᴅɪꜱᴘʟᴀᴄᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ
La voz de Antonio
Pairing(s): Camilo Madrigal x oc
Warnings: hints of underage drinking and drunkenness
Summary: Finally, it is time for the Madrigals to welcome a new gift into their family, but Antonio's gift ceremony might be the start of something more chaotic than anyone expects
A/N: I'll leave this right here so you can bless your eyes
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After sewing the buttons back on the vest in a rush that made her stab the tip of her index finger several times, Antonia pretty much sprinted out of her house and in direction of casa Madrigal. Even the cordiality she responded every greeting with on her way up was accelerated by the vibrance of that day's importance.
The Sun was bright on top of the busy town of Encanto, indicating that Pepa was either in a good mood or she was doing back flips in order to deliver the village a weather that allowed that night's gift ceremony to be set up in perfection. The girl's espadrilles moved so quickly up the stone road it was pretty much only the tips of her feet making contact with the ground, and in the trance of her hurry, she barely noticed the intense staring on her back.
No one noticed Antonia's growth in Encanto until after her seventeenth birthday, when the child she was leaving behind was impossible to ignore. As she started to make her way into an early adulthood, the boys that were younger than her poured less effort into concealing their intent gazes and the ones she was contemporary with spent hours talking about the bounce of her curls and the shape of her Cupid's bow in conversations where the word ‘marriage�� slipped far too often.
All the old childhood marks of sunburn had wiped off of her cheekbones like the Sun of Encanto was more healing that damaging, the chubbiness of her face had begun to melt away, revealing a bone structure no one could had foreseen was buried beneath her chipmunk cheeks, her voice was steadier and she carried herself with a straighter back. Every day after work, Carlos stood by the door of their house, almost fearfully, waiting for the poor bastards that would soon start coming to ask for her hand in marriage.
The inside of casita reflected the mayhem Antonia felt inspired by, everyone was running around delivering decorations, carrying ingredients and accomodating furniture out of the way. She was right in time to catch Mirabel before she fell after having bumped into the men carrying the couch.
"Woah there," she exclaimed placing her friend back on her feet and staring at the big basket full of stuff in her hands, "what's all that?"
"Oh, hum," Mirabel stammered, looking down at it, "it's señor Jorge's special— well, not special special."
It took Antonia a moment to realize what the “not special special” thing meant, and she had to suppress a sigh when she got it. Like everyone else, she knew how hard that day was going to be on her friend, the first ceremony after her failed one, and no one really knew what was the best way to act around her for it, but Antonia had the feeling condescendence was not the way to go.
Before she could say what she had opened her mouth to say, Camilo's voice resounded from the top floor. "Mi vida!"
The girl with the glasses didn't even attempt to ignore the way her friend's cheeks lit up at the nickname and the voice that pronounced it, and she had to clench every muscle in her body to hold the urge of rolling her eyes.
"Oh, no, no, I have to take these to the kitchen," Mirabel shook her head when Antonio motioned for her to come upstairs with her, "you go. Your daughter is calling for you."
True enough, Chapola was sat by Camilo's feet, howling vehemently in the direction of her other parent, who she had not seen since the day before. "Okay." She whispered, shooting Mirabel a wink before going up the stairs casita built for her as she advanced.
Oh, Mirabel loved Antonia and Camilo dearly, but her patience that day was running low enough after the humiliating exchange with the children of the village a few minutes ago and it wouldn't survive even a second of pretending she wasn't annoyed of her best friend and her cousin acting like they weren't absolutely smitten with each other. She feared she would end up grabbing the back of their heads and pushing them together: maybe they would kiss, maybe they would break their noses, honestly, whatever happened she would consider the will of God.
"Hey, you." Camilo greeted her with a smile.
Ever since his lovestruck realization, he had acquired a more flirty behaviour towards his best friend, an endeavour that had ended up developing into a natural part of their relationship.
"Hi." She met back when she reached the last step. Camilo's smile grew at the sight of her wearing the skirt he liked and the sparkly thing on the corners of her eyes.
"Mi vida, quick question," he said leaning against the column with his arms crossed as she crouched to pet their hound lovingly and waited for her to let a sound that confirmed she was listening, "have you been teaching Chapola to sleep under the covers? Because last night she wouldn't leave me alone until I opened them for her."
Antonia smiled sheepishly. "Nights have been cold."
"She gets my bed all full of hair."
"Well, I guess now you have no option but to make your bed every morning. Consider it a favor."
Their quarreling was cut off by the arrival of doña Alma, instructing José behind them to lift the poster with Antonio's name higher. "Camilo, we need another José." She said once the right side of the poster was on her desired height.
The boy shot his friend a wink and a smirk before responding with the man's name and turning into him to lift the other side of it. That was when Alma noticed Antonia standing there and her features softened, "Toña, do you have the vest?"
"Yes," she responded like she had just remembered the whole purpose of her presence there, lifting the linus vest she was holding with care not to wrinkle it. Antonio had been at her house that morning to pick up his suit for the ceremony, but right when he was trying it on, they noticed the young tailor had accidentally made the vest a few inches too big.
Alma didn't even ask to see the fixed vest and check if it was the right size now, she trusted the girl's hands, so she simply motioned for her to follow her. Antonia returned Camilo's wink before doing so.
The woman smiled at her youthful enthusiasm, as they walked and she looked around at all the decorations and Isabela's bouquets of begonias. Alma, opposite to most people, had always been aware of Antonia's growth, maybe the reason people overlooked it was that she had always something too much of an adult... but never for her.
"Are you excited for tonight?" She asked, getting the attention of the big eyed teenager.
Truth was, she wanted her to harness her childhood for a little longer, for the burdens of adulthood could comfortably wait a little longer for the moment she was ready to hold them. All the responsibility she had taken so young, all the maturity she'd had to inject in herself to overcome the pain of her loss… Alma never admitted it, not even to herself, but there was a lot of herself she saw reflected on Antonia, maybe that was the reason she took the girl's happiness at heart like her grandchildren did, that she wished for Antonia the youth that had been ripped from her own hands all those years ago.
Earning wrinkles and grey hairs sooner than everyone else, she had managed to push back the strains of grieving past times long enough for her daughters to find happiness, maybe she could do the same for this stranger that was only truly happy when Camilo cared for her laughter.
"Yeah!" She exclaimed happily, although she didn't quite know how to explain her excitement. In the village of Encanto, everyone was so used to the Madrigals' magical gifts that magic had almost became part of the ordinary, but the night that inched closer threw her back to the same wonder she had felt on that first week.
As they walked, they passed in front of the set of pictures of each Madrigal children standing beside doña Alma the night they got their gifts, and Antonia looked at them keenly, like she always did. It wasn't a shocker that her favourite picture was Camilo's, because of the pose he had in it; standing there and smiling wasn't enough, no, he had to throw his theatricality into everything.
"Where is Mateo?" Abuela Alma asked, worried that he would be late to his best friend's ceremony.
"Oh, he rolled in a pool of mud," Antonia answered with a shrug, "my mom had to give him a bath and find new clothes for tonight. They'll be here soon."
The elder woman sighed looking at the time in her wrist watch. "I hope so, because we only have an hour left." She said before announcing the remaining time in a louder tone. "Now, where is that boy?"
Out of all her grandchildren, Antonio was by far the better at hiding, she knew they wouldn't have the smallest hint of his location if he didn't want to be found, but he needed to put on his vest to make sure it was the right fitting— not that there would be any time to fix if it wasn't.
In the end, she told Antonia to give her the vest, for she would continue to look for the birthday boy while she went home to get her family, the Sun was already setting and the Garcías were nowhere to be seen.
Camilo had offered to go with her, but he was dragged by his dad right when they were about to cross the door. Everyone was arriving and they had to wait for Antonio behind the curtain, so he had to watch her leave the house with an amused smirk, one that almost sent him into cardiac arrest because it wasn't all that common in her. Oh, she was going to be the death of him.
When she reached her house, she was almost thankful Camilo hadn't been able to accompany her, because havoc had unleashed in the inside of the house. Anastasia ran behind a dripping Mateo who hated linus so much he threatened to go to the ceremony naked, while Carlos rummaged around looking for a shirt after having somehow burned the one he was planning to wear that evening.
After ten minutes of bargaining, Mateo agreed to wear clothes as long as they were cotton and Carlos had to wear the blue guayabera that left him matching with his son. The ceremony was about to commence when they arrived, the parents staying near the back while the children made their way to the front with the Madrigals.
"Took you long enough," Camilo said as soon as she was standing beside him, while Mateo stood between Dolores and Isabela.
"We almost didn't make it," she whispered back.
He had his tía's hand on his left, so she could squeeze her expectation away, and he moved his right up to Antonia's hand, intertwining their fingers. Her eyes stayed fixed on the front of the room, but he didn't bother to hide how he was looking at the blush that had climbed up her cheeks.
Maybe, he thought, he always thought. Even after almost a year, that was still his answer, there didn't seem to be one more suitable for his situation. Maybe she liked him back, and if she didn't back then, then maybe he had built some of the way on the last months.
All the lights dimmed, as if casita also had the power to control the intensity of each candle, and the two big lights that moved around like the ones on Camilo's room pointed to the end of the hall, to the closed curtains that secluded Antonio from everyone's eyes. When they opened, Toña was pleased to see the vest did fit him, but then realized he wasn't moving at all, not even when the tiles beneath his feet urged him to move.
He stood there in complete silence for at least a minute, even after the clapping that made the teenagers let go of the hold in their hands died out, until finally he lifted up his hand. No one understood what did it mean or what was he asking for, until a clearly abashed Mirabel stepped up and grabbed the offered hand. The confused and even a little offended muttering around her told Antonia that wasn't part of the protocol, she looked at Camilo with a raised eyebrow and his shrug confirmed her suspicions.
She knew her friend well enough to know the villagers stare on her burned more than the bright lights themselves, but her steps were still firm and the hold on Antonio's hand never loosened, because she knew if she got scared, the young boy would crumble. Antonia shot her a soothing wink when they passed by where she was.
The spike of courage Camilo had to initially hold her hand left the moment she had to tear her hand away, so he had to overcome a avalanche of insecurity to reach out for it again. To his surprise, when he did, Antonia welcomed him as if she had been expecting him to make the move, intertwining their fingers back again and clinging to his arm like her parents did.
Two tiny steps at a time, Toñito and Mirabel made their way to the glowing door with the golden doorknob, everyone around was holding their breath, Antonia was so anxious she might as well been a Madrigal. The boy raised his hand to the doorknob after having touched the magical candle, swearing to abuela's vow, and the whole world went silent, there was this fine air of nervousness about history repeating itself.
Upon the contact of his fingers the golden dust duplicated as a wave spreading through the wooden surface, which Antonia could only assume was a good sign. A few more seconds of unaltered silence went by until, out of nowhere, a toucan came flying down and set on his extended arm, squawking at him.
"Uh-huh." Antonio responded to the apparent conversation. "Uh-huh. I understand you." The bird squawked again. "Of course they can come!"
The bird let out the loudest squawk so far and suddenly a flock of other birds came down flying from the roof, while another bunch of animals made their way running through people's legs, a family of chigüiros, a jaguar, even Chapola and her siblings ran over to Antonio.
"¡Eh, negra!"
"¡Chapola!" Both Antonia and Camilo called for her out of instinct, as did the owners of the other hounds.
But all ten hounds stood proudly by Antonio's feet, including the composed Carlota herself, as the revelation of his gift became a golden carving on his door. "We have a new gift!" Alma exclaimed, making the whole town erupt in cheers.
The unveiling of the magical Madrigal blessing was even more bewitching than Antonia had expected, she found herself completely absorbed in it as she cheered with everyone else right before the door to Antonio's room opened and built itself right in front of everyone's eyes.
Inside, the paradise constructed by the chocoan jungle was illuminated by fireflies that swirled around one big mother tree, waterfalls and nests all surrounded the thick trunk, while a big curtain of drizzling water behind it marked the end of the room in displacement for walls. Antonia squeezed her fingers around Camilo's arm, drinking it all in with a face full of wonder that he couldn't help but smile at.
"Mi vida, breathe!" He said grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her softly.
The girl was so entranced by the full blown ecosystem inside she didn't even think of firing back at his mockery, simply laughing absentmindedly as a form of response, which made Camilo's smile bigger.
After Antonio was left safely at his parents' feet for the jaguar, Camilo made sure his friend wasn't so far gone she was at risk of falling over, even asking Nico, who was standing near, to keep an eye on her, before walking with his sister over to where the rest of the family was standing.
It took about twenty minutes of Nico and Camilo talking Antonia back to reality to pull her out of her trance, but it was a replaced by a rush of dazed adrenaline that made her follow Isabela when the girl asked her to dance without thinking twice. The Madrigal boy let out a chuckle at the energetic child like personality the García girl sometimes let out when she didn't have the need to be an adult, before making his way over to the food.
Just like it had happened predominantly on Dolores' and Camilo's ceremony, all the music being played was greatly influenced by the tunes their father had grown up listening, all the tunes that sent the Garcías into a state of ecstasy, for their homeland wasn't very far from the place Félix had been born. That fact had been discovered on Camilo's and Antonia's joint birthday, when they resulted to know by heart all the music that was played on the party.
Camilo was right in the middle of eating an empanada while talking with his tía and señora Pezmuerto, at least an hour and a half into the party, when he felt a hard tug on his arm. "Camilo," he found her with her hair wild on her head, with the trace of some drops of sweat on her forehead aggressively wiped off and her cheeks red because of all the dancing, it looked like she hadn't stayed still even a minute, "dance with me."
Squinting lightly at her, he had the frail impression that she had managed to get her hands on one of the alcoholic drinks they were giving out to the adults. She didn't look exactly drunk, but there was definitely an inebriated flame dancing in the back of her eyes... and even like that she looked beautiful. He followed her to the dance floor after handing his plate to Julieta, who took it with a knowing smile as she watched the two teenagers disappear into the crowd.
They weren't even all the way there when Camilo spun her with a smirk, which was received by a gleaming pair of eyes on a body that started dancing to the loud salsa echoing against the walls in a pace the boy had no issue syncing with. Their feet moved fastly, with the parently taught of skill that made sure they didn't tangle clumsily with each other's feet.
Camilo knotted his arms around her only to then untangle her with gracefulness as she spun on the tips of her feet when he pulled her away with his extended arm. It was almost like they read each other's mind, guessed the other's next move, that all their moves came out just so naturally.
"The house is in danger!" Mirabel's voice of alarm cut through the atmosphere, making everyone's eyes jump on her direction. "The house is in danger!" She repeated when she found herself in front her abuela. "The tiles were falling, and there were cracks everywhere. And the candle almost went out."
The whole room became silent as a feeling of dread settled on top, the quiet predominating the indistinct murmuring of those who are incapable of holding their questions when clearly no one could answer them. "Show me," the matriarch ordered, back on her usual severity.
But on the outside of the room, there was no sight of the destruction that Mirabel had described, all her explaining of the things she claimed she had just seen didn't conceal the fact that all the tiles were in their place, there were no cracks in the walls and the candle was a strong as ever. "Maybe she drank the same thing you did?" Camilo whispered, earning a nudge from Antonia, whose worry had sobered her up.
"There is nothing wrong with la casa Madrigal," Alma exclaimed as soon as she turned to face all the guests, "the magic is strong, and so are the drinks." Everyone laughed at the joke, but the teenagers' eyes were fixed on the defeated look of Mirabel. "Please music!"
Joe Arroyo's music came back to life on the instruments of the band when the two started making their way down the stairs to where Mirabel was standing, but Julieta stopped them, letting them know that she would go to comfort her daughter. Finally, they obliged and came back to the room, but they couldn't flow back into the party, all they could think about were Mirabel's words.
If the candle was to ever go out, he would feel something, wouldn't he? A tingle that told him of the expiration of his power. Had he maybe been too entranced dancing with Antonia to feel anything at all? It wouldn't be the first time something of the sort happened, his four loyal friends never failed to let him know when he was too absorbed in the sight of her to notice the world falling apart.
He kept thinking about it a few hours later, when the party ended ceremoniously at midnight, marking the end of Antonio's birthday, and he walked the Garcías back to their house, mainly because Carlos was more drunk than he admitted and Anastasia wasn't all that sober herself. He could feel Antonia's embarrassment as he helped her take her parents up to their bedroom, but assured her that it was okay as they walked back to the door.
"Will you tell Mirabel I tried to say goodbye but she had already gone to sleep?"
"Yeah." He nodded.
He had to go, he knew it, if it would've been anyone else, he would have left already, but for some reason he just stood there, looking at her.
"What?" She asked rather amused by his staring. "Are you waiting for a goodnight kiss?"
The words left his mouth before he had a chance to think them twice. "Would you give it to me?"
Antonia stood there for a couple seconds, struck by his response, but in the end she smirked and brought her lips to his cheek, dangerously close to his mouth.
taglist: @mcueveryday @sylum @solikeapparently @7seabear7 @zzokks @ranzieboo @im-sidney @missgorldafirst @scarletfry37 @xiaos-wife @astras-world
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secret-ssociety · 2 months ago
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what i say: i'm scared of love
what i mean: when i broke up with my last boyfriend and tried to return all the gifts he gave me, my mom didn't let me because it was "insensitive". when we were dating, his love language was gift giving and i, a writer going through serious economical difficulties, decided to start writing him letters. when i wanted to return his presents, the truth i couldn't bring myself to tell anyone was that i wanted to ask for my letters back. not out of pettiness, but because the things i wrote were so precious to me and no longer his, i wanted them back. i placed my soul in sheets of paper and gave it to him, everything, with no protection, no fabric to cover my nakedness, from the valleys of sunflowers he first fell in love with to the deepest, darkets parts of myself. i wrote about the child i one day dreamed of having, i wrote about how i saw myself as a monster. i'm a writer, my words mean everything to me. they are my words, mine. but my moment of entitlement to them didn't last long enough to be an ass despite my mom and having my letters back.
four months have passed. he probably already got rid of my letters. they're lost forever. i lost my words forever.
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secret-ssociety · 3 months ago
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I did. from now on, I go by Isabella Madrigal
I have spent the last three months of my life dyeing my hair to the exact red colour I've been dreaming about since I was like six and I might just throw it all in the trash and go back to my black hair for some bitch that looks like a little like me called Isabela Madrigal
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secret-ssociety · 3 months ago
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Okay, I rewatched Encanto the other day and I stand corrected, that line is in the spanish version too I just hadn't noticed
I just watched Encanto in english (I've only watched in spanish before) and there is something about the translation I'm not willing to forgive
now, listen to me, the spanish version is a work of art, all the accents and the expressions are spot on, Isabela's voice is just amazing, you all should watch it in spanish at leats once to get the full experience
BUT
in the english version, right after casita falls down, there's this dialogue between Camilo and Félix where Camilo is saying that he lost his gift and he keeps saying "what about Antonio?" and he's just so worried for his brother and what's he going to do
like there is this deep care and concern of Camilo for Antonio in that moment
we don't have that in the spanish version and I am PISSED
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secret-ssociety · 4 months ago
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tomorrow I'm going back to school and not only did I not write everything I said I would, I'm so nervous I might throw up
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secret-ssociety · 4 months ago
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I need to get past this block like now because there is so much I hope to get done before I go back to class.
I'll keep on writing Displacement until I'm through with it but there are so many one shots that I know I might never write if I don't do them while I still have full use of my time
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secret-ssociety · 4 months ago
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yesterday they announced in person classes are back on next week and i am positively panicking
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secret-ssociety · 4 months ago
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ᴅɪꜱᴘʟᴀᴄᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ
La voz de Antonio
Pairing(s): Camilo Madrigal x oc
Warnings: hints of underage drinking and drunkenness
Summary: Finally, it is time for the Madrigals to welcome a new gift into their family, but Antonio's gift ceremony might be the start of something more chaotic than anyone expects
A/N: I'll leave this right here so you can bless your eyes
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After sewing the buttons back on the vest in a rush that made her stab the tip of her index finger several times, Antonia pretty much sprinted out of her house and in direction of casa Madrigal. Even the cordiality she responded every greeting with on her way up was accelerated by the vibrance of that day's importance.
The Sun was bright on top of the busy town of Encanto, indicating that Pepa was either in a good mood or she was doing back flips in order to deliver the village a weather that allowed that night's gift ceremony to be set up in perfection. The girl's espadrilles moved so quickly up the stone road it was pretty much only the tips of her feet making contact with the ground, and in the trance of her hurry, she barely noticed the intense staring on her back.
No one noticed Antonia's growth in Encanto until after her seventeenth birthday, when the child she was leaving behind was impossible to ignore. As she started to make her way into an early adulthood, the boys that were younger than her poured less effort into concealing their intent gazes and the ones she was contemporary with spent hours talking about the bounce of her curls and the shape of her Cupid's bow in conversations where the word ‘marriage’ slipped far too often.
All the old childhood marks of sunburn had wiped off of her cheekbones like the Sun of Encanto was more healing that damaging, the chubbiness of her face had begun to melt away, revealing a bone structure no one could had foreseen was buried beneath her chipmunk cheeks, her voice was steadier and she carried herself with a straighter back. Every day after work, Carlos stood by the door of their house, almost fearfully, waiting for the poor bastards that would soon start coming to ask for her hand in marriage.
The inside of casita reflected the mayhem Antonia felt inspired by, everyone was running around delivering decorations, carrying ingredients and accomodating furniture out of the way. She was right in time to catch Mirabel before she fell after having bumped into the men carrying the couch.
"Woah there," she exclaimed placing her friend back on her feet and staring at the big basket full of stuff in her hands, "what's all that?"
"Oh, hum," Mirabel stammered, looking down at it, "it's señor Jorge's special— well, not special special."
It took Antonia a moment to realize what the “not special special” thing meant, and she had to suppress a sigh when she got it. Like everyone else, she knew how hard that day was going to be on her friend, the first ceremony after her failed one, and no one really knew what was the best way to act around her for it, but Antonia had the feeling condescendence was not the way to go.
Before she could say what she had opened her mouth to say, Camilo's voice resounded from the top floor. "Mi vida!"
The girl with the glasses didn't even attempt to ignore the way her friend's cheeks lit up at the nickname and the voice that pronounced it, and she had to clench every muscle in her body to hold the urge of rolling her eyes.
"Oh, no, no, I have to take these to the kitchen," Mirabel shook her head when Antonio motioned for her to come upstairs with her, "you go. Your daughter is calling for you."
True enough, Chapola was sat by Camilo's feet, howling vehemently in the direction of her other parent, who she had not seen since the day before. "Okay." She whispered, shooting Mirabel a wink before going up the stairs casita built for her as she advanced.
Oh, Mirabel loved Antonia and Camilo dearly, but her patience that day was running low enough after the humiliating exchange with the children of the village a few minutes ago and it wouldn't survive even a second of pretending she wasn't annoyed of her best friend and her cousin acting like they weren't absolutely smitten with each other. She feared she would end up grabbing the back of their heads and pushing them together: maybe they would kiss, maybe they would break their noses, honestly, whatever happened she would consider the will of God.
"Hey, you." Camilo greeted her with a smile.
Ever since his lovestruck realization, he had acquired a more flirty behaviour towards his best friend, an endeavour that had ended up developing into a natural part of their relationship.
"Hi." She met back when she reached the last step. Camilo's smile grew at the sight of her wearing the skirt he liked and the sparkly thing on the corners of her eyes.
"Mi vida, quick question," he said leaning against the column with his arms crossed as she crouched to pet their hound lovingly and waited for her to let a sound that confirmed she was listening, "have you been teaching Chapola to sleep under the covers? Because last night she wouldn't leave me alone until I opened them for her."
Antonia smiled sheepishly. "Nights have been cold."
"She gets my bed all full of hair."
"Well, I guess now you have no option but to make your bed every morning. Consider it a favor."
Their quarreling was cut off by the arrival of doña Alma, instructing José behind them to lift the poster with Antonio's name higher. "Camilo, we need another José." She said once the right side of the poster was on her desired height.
The boy shot his friend a wink and a smirk before responding with the man's name and turning into him to lift the other side of it. That was when Alma noticed Antonia standing there and her features softened, "Toña, do you have the vest?"
"Yes," she responded like she had just remembered the whole purpose of her presence there, lifting the linus vest she was holding with care not to wrinkle it. Antonio had been at her house that morning to pick up his suit for the ceremony, but right when he was trying it on, they noticed the young tailor had accidentally made the vest a few inches too big.
Alma didn't even ask to see the fixed vest and check if it was the right size now, she trusted the girl's hands, so she simply motioned for her to follow her. Antonia returned Camilo's wink before doing so.
The woman smiled at her youthful enthusiasm, as they walked and she looked around at all the decorations and Isabela's bouquets of begonias. Alma, opposite to most people, had always been aware of Antonia's growth, maybe the reason people overlooked it was that she had always something too much of an adult... but never for her.
"Are you excited for tonight?" She asked, getting the attention of the big eyed teenager.
Truth was, she wanted her to harness her childhood for a little longer, for the burdens of adulthood could comfortably wait a little longer for the moment she was ready to hold them. All the responsibility she had taken so young, all the maturity she'd had to inject in herself to overcome the pain of her loss… Alma never admitted it, not even to herself, but there was a lot of herself she saw reflected on Antonia, maybe that was the reason she took the girl's happiness at heart like her grandchildren did, that she wished for Antonia the youth that had been ripped from her own hands all those years ago.
Earning wrinkles and grey hairs sooner than everyone else, she had managed to push back the strains of grieving past times long enough for her daughters to find happiness, maybe she could do the same for this stranger that was only truly happy when Camilo cared for her laughter.
"Yeah!" She exclaimed happily, although she didn't quite know how to explain her excitement. In the village of Encanto, everyone was so used to the Madrigals' magical gifts that magic had almost became part of the ordinary, but the night that inched closer threw her back to the same wonder she had felt on that first week.
As they walked, they passed in front of the set of pictures of each Madrigal children standing beside doña Alma the night they got their gifts, and Antonia looked at them keenly, like she always did. It wasn't a shocker that her favourite picture was Camilo's, because of the pose he had in it; standing there and smiling wasn't enough, no, he had to throw his theatricality into everything.
"Where is Mateo?" Abuela Alma asked, worried that he would be late to his best friend's ceremony.
"Oh, he rolled in a pool of mud," Antonia answered with a shrug, "my mom had to give him a bath and find new clothes for tonight. They'll be here soon."
The elder woman sighed looking at the time in her wrist watch. "I hope so, because we only have an hour left." She said before announcing the remaining time in a louder tone. "Now, where is that boy?"
Out of all her grandchildren, Antonio was by far the better at hiding, she knew they wouldn't have the smallest hint of his location if he didn't want to be found, but he needed to put on his vest to make sure it was the right fitting— not that there would be any time to fix if it wasn't.
In the end, she told Antonia to give her the vest, for she would continue to look for the birthday boy while she went home to get her family, the Sun was already setting and the Garcías were nowhere to be seen.
Camilo had offered to go with her, but he was dragged by his dad right when they were about to cross the door. Everyone was arriving and they had to wait for Antonio behind the curtain, so he had to watch her leave the house with an amused smirk, one that almost sent him into cardiac arrest because it wasn't all that common in her. Oh, she was going to be the death of him.
When she reached her house, she was almost thankful Camilo hadn't been able to accompany her, because havoc had unleashed in the inside of the house. Anastasia ran behind a dripping Mateo who hated linus so much he threatened to go to the ceremony naked, while Carlos rummaged around looking for a shirt after having somehow burned the one he was planning to wear that evening.
After ten minutes of bargaining, Mateo agreed to wear clothes as long as they were cotton and Carlos had to wear the blue guayabera that left him matching with his son. The ceremony was about to commence when they arrived, the parents staying near the back while the children made their way to the front with the Madrigals.
"Took you long enough," Camilo said as soon as she was standing beside him, while Mateo stood between Dolores and Isabela.
"We almost didn't make it," she whispered back.
He had his tía's hand on his left, so she could squeeze her expectation away, and he moved his right up to Antonia's hand, intertwining their fingers. Her eyes stayed fixed on the front of the room, but he didn't bother to hide how he was looking at the blush that had climbed up her cheeks.
Maybe, he thought, he always thought. Even after almost a year, that was still his answer, there didn't seem to be one more suitable for his situation. Maybe she liked him back, and if she didn't back then, then maybe he had built some of the way on the last months.
All the lights dimmed, as if casita also had the power to control the intensity of each candle, and the two big lights that moved around like the ones on Camilo's room pointed to the end of the hall, to the closed curtains that secluded Antonio from everyone's eyes. When they opened, Toña was pleased to see the vest did fit him, but then realized he wasn't moving at all, not even when the tiles beneath his feet urged him to move.
He stood there in complete silence for at least a minute, even after the clapping that made the teenagers let go of the hold in their hands died out, until finally he lifted up his hand. No one understood what did it mean or what was he asking for, until a clearly abashed Mirabel stepped up and grabbed the offered hand. The confused and even a little offended muttering around her told Antonia that wasn't part of the protocol, she looked at Camilo with a raised eyebrow and his shrug confirmed her suspicions.
She knew her friend well enough to know the villagers stare on her burned more than the bright lights themselves, but her steps were still firm and the hold on Antonio's hand never loosened, because she knew if she got scared, the young boy would crumble. Antonia shot her a soothing wink when they passed by where she was.
The spike of courage Camilo had to initially hold her hand left the moment she had to tear her hand away, so he had to overcome a avalanche of insecurity to reach out for it again. To his surprise, when he did, Antonia welcomed him as if she had been expecting him to make the move, intertwining their fingers back again and clinging to his arm like her parents did.
Two tiny steps at a time, Toñito and Mirabel made their way to the glowing door with the golden doorknob, everyone around was holding their breath, Antonia was so anxious she might as well been a Madrigal. The boy raised his hand to the doorknob after having touched the magical candle, swearing to abuela's vow, and the whole world went silent, there was this fine air of nervousness about history repeating itself.
Upon the contact of his fingers the golden dust duplicated as a wave spreading through the wooden surface, which Antonia could only assume was a good sign. A few more seconds of unaltered silence went by until, out of nowhere, a toucan came flying down and set on his extended arm, squawking at him.
"Uh-huh." Antonio responded to the apparent conversation. "Uh-huh. I understand you." The bird squawked again. "Of course they can come!"
The bird let out the loudest squawk so far and suddenly a flock of other birds came down flying from the roof, while another bunch of animals made their way running through people's legs, a family of chigüiros, a jaguar, even Chapola and her siblings ran over to Antonio.
"¡Eh, negra!"
"¡Chapola!" Both Antonia and Camilo called for her out of instinct, as did the owners of the other hounds.
But all ten hounds stood proudly by Antonio's feet, including the composed Carlota herself, as the revelation of his gift became a golden carving on his door. "We have a new gift!" Alma exclaimed, making the whole town erupt in cheers.
The unveiling of the magical Madrigal blessing was even more bewitching than Antonia had expected, she found herself completely absorbed in it as she cheered with everyone else right before the door to Antonio's room opened and built itself right in front of everyone's eyes.
Inside, the paradise constructed by the chocoan jungle was illuminated by fireflies that swirled around one big mother tree, waterfalls and nests all surrounded the thick trunk, while a big curtain of drizzling water behind it marked the end of the room in displacement for walls. Antonia squeezed her fingers around Camilo's arm, drinking it all in with a face full of wonder that he couldn't help but smile at.
"Mi vida, breathe!" He said grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her softly.
The girl was so entranced by the full blown ecosystem inside she didn't even think of firing back at his mockery, simply laughing absentmindedly as a form of response, which made Camilo's smile bigger.
After Antonio was left safely at his parents' feet for the jaguar, Camilo made sure his friend wasn't so far gone she was at risk of falling over, even asking Nico, who was standing near, to keep an eye on her, before walking with his sister over to where the rest of the family was standing.
It took about twenty minutes of Nico and Camilo talking Antonia back to reality to pull her out of her trance, but it was a replaced by a rush of dazed adrenaline that made her follow Isabela when the girl asked her to dance without thinking twice. The Madrigal boy let out a chuckle at the energetic child like personality the García girl sometimes let out when she didn't have the need to be an adult, before making his way over to the food.
Just like it had happened predominantly on Dolores' and Camilo's ceremony, all the music being played was greatly influenced by the tunes their father had grown up listening, all the tunes that sent the Garcías into a state of ecstasy, for their homeland wasn't very far from the place Félix had been born. That fact had been discovered on Camilo's and Antonia's joint birthday, when they resulted to know by heart all the music that was played on the party.
Camilo was right in the middle of eating an empanada while talking with his tía and señora Pezmuerto, at least an hour and a half into the party, when he felt a hard tug on his arm. "Camilo," he found her with her hair wild on her head, with the trace of some drops of sweat on her forehead aggressively wiped off and her cheeks red because of all the dancing, it looked like she hadn't stayed still even a minute, "dance with me."
Squinting lightly at her, he had the frail impression that she had managed to get her hands on one of the alcoholic drinks they were giving out to the adults. She didn't look exactly drunk, but there was definitely an inebriated flame dancing in the back of her eyes... and even like that she looked beautiful. He followed her to the dance floor after handing his plate to Julieta, who took it with a knowing smile as she watched the two teenagers disappear into the crowd.
They weren't even all the way there when Camilo spun her with a smirk, which was received by a gleaming pair of eyes on a body that started dancing to the loud salsa echoing against the walls in a pace the boy had no issue syncing with. Their feet moved fastly, with the parently taught of skill that made sure they didn't tangle clumsily with each other's feet.
Camilo knotted his arms around her only to then untangle her with gracefulness as she spun on the tips of her feet when he pulled her away with his extended arm. It was almost like they read each other's mind, guessed the other's next move, that all their moves came out just so naturally.
"The house is in danger!" Mirabel's voice of alarm cut through the atmosphere, making everyone's eyes jump on her direction. "The house is in danger!" She repeated when she found herself in front her abuela. "The tiles were falling, and there were cracks everywhere. And the candle almost went out."
The whole room became silent as a feeling of dread settled on top, the quiet predominating the indistinct murmuring of those who are incapable of holding their questions when clearly no one could answer them. "Show me," the matriarch ordered, back on her usual severity.
But on the outside of the room, there was no sight of the destruction that Mirabel had described, all her explaining of the things she claimed she had just seen didn't conceal the fact that all the tiles were in their place, there were no cracks in the walls and the candle was a strong as ever. "Maybe she drank the same thing you did?" Camilo whispered, earning a nudge from Antonia, whose worry had sobered her up.
"There is nothing wrong with la casa Madrigal," Alma exclaimed as soon as she turned to face all the guests, "the magic is strong, and so are the drinks." Everyone laughed at the joke, but the teenagers' eyes were fixed on the defeated look of Mirabel. "Please music!"
Joe Arroyo's music came back to life on the instruments of the band when the two started making their way down the stairs to where Mirabel was standing, but Julieta stopped them, letting them know that she would go to comfort her daughter. Finally, they obliged and came back to the room, but they couldn't flow back into the party, all they could think about were Mirabel's words.
If the candle was to ever go out, he would feel something, wouldn't he? A tingle that told him of the expiration of his power. Had he maybe been too entranced dancing with Antonia to feel anything at all? It wouldn't be the first time something of the sort happened, his four loyal friends never failed to let him know when he was too absorbed in the sight of her to notice the world falling apart.
He kept thinking about it a few hours later, when the party ended ceremoniously at midnight, marking the end of Antonio's birthday, and he walked the Garcías back to their house, mainly because Carlos was more drunk than he admitted and Anastasia wasn't all that sober herself. He could feel Antonia's embarrassment as he helped her take her parents up to their bedroom, but assured her that it was okay as they walked back to the door.
"Will you tell Mirabel I tried to say goodbye but she had already gone to sleep?"
"Yeah." He nodded.
He had to go, he knew it, if it would've been anyone else, he would have left already, but for some reason he just stood there, looking at her.
"What?" She asked rather amused by his staring. "Are you waiting for a goodnight kiss?"
The words left his mouth before he had a chance to think them twice. "Would you give it to me?"
Antonia stood there for a couple seconds, struck by his response, but in the end she smirked and brought her lips to his cheek, dangerously close to his mouth.
taglist: @mcueveryday @sylum @solikeapparently @7seabear7 @zzokks @ranzieboo @im-sidney @missgorldafirst @scarletfry37 @xiaos-wife @astras-world
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secret-ssociety · 4 months ago
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a great part to being latin american, I think, is finding your culture somehow absorbed in americanisms. and I mean, being latin american, not 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, etc. gen immigrant in the US, not knowing more than a few words in your parents' language and only having picked up that part from your identity when being latino became a trend on tiktok and only to the extent you could look a little like Maddy from Euphoria listening to Selena Quintanilla.
no. I mean growing up in the streets of México City in houses that aren't made of clay on top of an ancient aztec cemetery, as if all our continent wasn't itself an indigenous burial ground. I mean having deep within your veins the knowledge that fabelas are much more inclement than they look on whatever action movie that takes place around the carnival of Río. I mean squinting at the sight of Bogotá being presented as a tropical yet slightly desert-like town as if the city wasn't so cold it has its own type of flu.
I mean having the deep post-colonial experience of placing your forearm next to the mestizaje page of the history text book and think your skin colour is enough to tell the recipe of your mix. I mean that weird sense that all definitions of communism for us can't not be ambiguous because all the left wing leaders that have rised to power have been mysteriously killed and the ones who have succeeded are so bizarre they almost look like a satirical comedy on real life.
I mean looking for representation in cinema or literature and only finding the works of american authors who feel the need of advertising the fraction of latin blood on their veins (because only unbeknownst colonized people put percentages to their bloodline) who tell stories of a character with light brown skin who understands their parents' spanish but can't respond in the same tongue and live through the most whitewashed version of our myths, because for some reason la Llorona decided to pack her dead children into bags and move to Boston.
I know that the narrative of the immigrant and their children is important, but the narrative of the ones who stay is also important and it is strange to feel the need to say that latin people exist outside of the united states.
maybe this neo colonial rage comes from watching Encanto and having the deep colombian urge to gatekeep it from everyone whose ignorance could ruin it, but that urge was followed by the realization that I don't know enough about my own identity to know what I'm gatekeeping, because I'm looking for books of my land in articles written in english and that itself is proof that I, too, have fallen for it. raised by disney channel and nickelodeon, I have nurtured from my culture on the same level a white individual consumes from it.
and once I see the voice I've acquired, I cannot unsee it: it is my cousin who was born in the capital of vallenato, child to a woman from the very home of cumbia, who now as an adult dismisses all the music of his homeland because it could never offer him the same that Eminem offers him. it is my old friend who thinks watching the victoria's secret runway rubs off of her skin the wayúu ancestry.
and while I'm in this process of educating myself in art and wonder, I can't help but notice that out of all my stories, it is the ones which have a deep latin american influence, the ones filled with references to our culture that have the less engagement, almost as if they had passed under the radar.
and that angers me.
it angers me to the point I want not to write another character who wasn't born and raised in my country ever again, to the point I want to fill all my stories with hints that make everyone who reads them have to learn about the bloodiness of our myths, about the curses of our soil and the silent pains we inherit, to the point nothing I ever write can be read without the knowledge of how latin american magical realism has evolved into the gothic spectrum.
it angers me to the point I want to yell to everyone that the bandits that displaced the Madrigals from their village had a political affiliation that can't be ignored, that abuelo Pedro was murdered in a river because that's where we find our dead, that Macondo is and can only be in Colombia because the banana republic wasn't in central america.
it leads me to a state of wrath that I want to scream in people's faces about the Manigua, the spirit of the jungle that lures the white man into its foliage and feeds of their vital energy, and about the ancient belief that if we go into the river on holy thursday we'll turn into monsters that are half fish.
it makes me want to shove my history and my culture down the throat of everyone who consumes my content the same way other people's cultures has been pushed down mine.
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secret-ssociety · 4 months ago
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if I don't start writing as obsessively as I did a month ago even if it means completely disconnecting from reality, I will unalive myself
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secret-ssociety · 4 months ago
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I don't know about you, but everytime I hear the damn portuguese complaining that a certain movie/game is only being dubbed in Brazilian Portuguese, I pop open a bottle of champagne and drink it like it was fvcking Christmas 🥂
same thing with the spaniards. that's a pure post colonial joy
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secret-ssociety · 4 months ago
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I think I'm going to start writing out of the Encanto fandom too, again.
I mean I'll still do Encanto, but the Peter Parker and Sirius Black shit I was planning are coming back. I'm doing the multiverse here
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secret-ssociety · 4 months ago
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I miss the month I spent dissociating into Encanto,
writing was easier
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secret-ssociety · 4 months ago
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ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏ ꜱᴇʀᴠɪᴄᴇ
Pairing(s): Mirabel Madrigal x fem!reader
Warnings: Just pure, sweet, teeth rotting fluff
A/N: I just love that gif
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Was it still called love at first sight when it was a daily occurrence? Did it still hold the romanticism of the poetry that praised ephemerality when she didn't count the days she had been alive, but the days she had been in love with her?
In Mirabel's record, life only started when she fell in love with Y/N, the day that followed the night she was supposed to receive a magical gift that never came, when the girl that was to become the silent recipient of her affection slipped under her door a disorganized list of things Mirabel could become without the need of magical powers. From that moment on, Y/N's existence became more present than Mirabel had ever noticed, until love was nothing more than the next logical step.
Sometimes she looked at her at school, sometimes by the daily occurrences of the town square, but mostly she looked at her at church, on the sunday services. Mirabel knew that her attention was focused on the wrong place during the hour she was supposed to spend in praise, but she was a fervent believed that Y/N sitting in an angle where Mirabel could easily gaze into her was God's doing.
That hour that she spent all week waiting for took too long to come around and ended way too soon, for the communion before the Priest dismissed the congregation seemed to happen five minutes after she took her place on the church. Every sunday, she told herself that she would talk to her after the hour was over, but in all the years of her infatuation, she never actually had.
Still, that didn't mean Y/N was a stranger to Mirabel's pleading eyes, for two years now, she had started to look back. She would usually wait for the moment her mother was completely absorbed in the mass, which tended to be around the penitential rite, to detach her eyes from the front of the temple and set them straight on the only one of the Madrigal children whose eyesight relied on glasses.
Every once in a while, Camilo would nudge her to make her look back to the front, arguing that if he noticed her distraction, anyone else would. Mirabel then would wait for a couple minutes— about the extended length of the homily, until she was sure only the Almighty was paying attention to her and resume her endeavour of counting Y/N's eyelashes in the distance.
Likewise, Y/N disregarded the feet between them and gazed into Mirabel's features until she could baptize the colour of her glasses, landing on a different name each week. They scrutinized each other with the same intimacy they would've brushed their foreheads together, with the same tenderness they would've held each other in the dead of the night.
There were so many places that provided the same secrecy they requested for the exchange of their gazes, but none other responded to the lack of bravery they both had to approach the other and start a conversation with the agreement made so long ago in silence. Maybe, someday not so far into the future, one would gather the guts to walk up to the other when the peaces were made and start what had already commenced.
In the meantime, they fell in love quietly, two rows of chairs and a hall away from each other, under the ignorant noses of their parents, holding within themselves a silent flame that grew into the quiet crackle of a forest fire with the eucharist as their background. In complete silence, they fell in love. In the fondness of their eyes, they fell in love. In the benevolence of the Lord, they fell in love. Every sunday service, they fell in love.
One day in many years when the generation that succeeded them asked how had they fell in love, Mirabel would tell them that it was in the best way possible.
She would tell them that the only truth in life was that love always started with the power of a stolen glance, that two people could not fall in love before looking at each other and that was the only thing all love stories had in common. Maybe their stolen glances stage took a little longer than others, but they would be comfortable there until they simply weren't.
That day came the first sunday mass after their house crumbled down, suddenly the wait and the timidness made Mirabel sicked. It took the priest longer to announce the end of the reunion than it took Mirabel to find herself towering over an still sat down Y/N.
"Hi, Y/N."
The girl did her best not to swoon in the middle of her smile. "Hi, Mirabel."
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secret-ssociety · 4 months ago
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Hey I read your Bruno x Reader fic. I was wondering if you take requests.
not right now, no. sorry
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secret-ssociety · 4 months ago
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just found out tumblr is apparently forbidden in Colombia. I'm not sure if I'm committing a crime right now..
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