#alma: i have raised a perfect madrigal woman who makes the family and community prosperous and proud

[inamindfarfaraway]

Whatever you do, don’t think too hard about Isabela Madrigal’s life before the movie.

Don’t think about how she got so deeply fixated on flowers. Don’t think about her playing in the garden, revelling in her brand new gift. She makes every plant bigger and stronger and grows as many new ones as she can think of, so excited to show her family how beautiful her power is, getting covered in grass stains and pollen and burrs. But when she runs back inside, Abuela scolds her - her new clothes are dirty and torn and her hair is a mess. Isabela, mija, your gift is wonderful, but just try to be more careful with it, okay? So she is. She learns to always weigh up what the perfect thing would be right now before she grows a single plant cell. She learns that everyone likes flowers; everyone likes her when she makes flowers. And therefore they like the family, and Abuela is so proud of her. Flowers are safe. They’re perfect. After all, their entire reason for existing is to be attractive. If her plants are perfect, she’s perfect, and she needs to be perfect.

Don’t think about her relationships with her sisters. Don’t think about Luisa walking by and Isabela instantly seeing the pressure she’s under. She knows a fake smile, she’s mastered them better than flowers. She tries to think of something to say, a small affirmation that at the very least, Luisa isn’t alone… but then the moment passes, her younger sister swept up in a relentless current of needy citizens while Isabela must keep standing on display. She does nothing. Don’t think about her barely able to concentrate on Mirabel’s latest whining about how she just needs a chance to be special like Isabela is, because Abuela’s critical gaze prickles on her back and everyone is looking at her and all the flowers are suddenly so bright and strong; so when she snaps that Mirabel doesn’t deserve that chance, she means it. Nobody else deserves what her life has become. But someone has to do it and she can’t back out now. And when Mirabel flinches and blinks backs tears, she does nothing. She isn’t hurting her family. She’s always helping it. She isn’t failing as an older sister, Isabela Madrigal doesn’t fail at anything. If she’s perfect, her family is perfect, so she needs to be perfect.

Don’t think about her and Mariano. Don’t think about her swallowing down the bile that sears her throat each time that she tells him she loves him. How, again, she knows a fake smile, and also knows the looks of a person truly in love, and desperately tries to keep Dolores out of her range of vision if she’s near the two of them. She isn’t hurting her family. She can't be. Don’t think about the hours she spends in her room practicing fond expressions and intonations and body language until she aches. Maybe she uses her parents and aunt and uncle as models. Mariano is a good man and she likes him fine, but he can’t pretend; he could never understand that this isn’t love, it’s simply what needs to be done. And she needs to do it perfectly.

Don’t think about the nights she can't sleep. The eves of her birthdays soon come to be the most stressful nights of her life. Those are the days she’ll be pinned in the spotlight like a butterfly on a board even more than usual, bombarded with constant stares and shallow interactions. Oh, and she’ll surely be expected to show off her gift. Should she have a presentation planned in advance? She should, right? But what if she overthinks it and gets it wrong really doing it? Shouldn’t she practice now? Will she have time to practice tomorrow when the whole town wants a piece of her? She forces herself to sleep anyway, ties herself to her bed with vines (flowering, of course) and lets their cloying scents carry her off, because she’s going to need hours to do her hair and makeup in the morning and she can’t afford to yawn or be bleary-eyed in public. Don’t think about her crying reflexively being subtle and silent, even in private. How the plant life that thickly blankets her room prevents Dolores from hearing sounds that she isn’t listening for, like Isabela’s tears hitting her bed or her racing, desperate hyperventilation.

Don’t imagine the number of cracks in her heart that her pastel petals paper over by the time we meet her. Please don’t.

#alma: i have raised a perfect madrigal woman who makes the family and community prosperous and proud #me: you’ve FUCKED UP a perfectly good girl that’s what you’ve done. LOOK at her. she’s got anxiety #isabela madrigal #encanto isabela #madrigal family #family madrigal #familia madrigal #encanto #disney encanto #encanto spoilers #encanto angst #encanto headcanon #encanto headcanons