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usedtobeguest123 · 10 months

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The Dream

Hola, Casita! It's been a while since I've been on here, but this little draft of a chapter has been tickling the back of my mind nevertheless. It's pretty quiet in the Encanto fandom these days, so I thought I'd post it here and perhaps that would motivate me to polish it up and come back to my long lost Encanto WIP -- La Traes. This piece of writing can mostly be read on it's own, with a few references to the story it comes from that don't take away too much from the overall one-shotness. I haven't posted it to A03 yet, but hopefully I will eventually.

For now, enjoy this Tío Bruno - Mirabel family fluff, and check out the full story if you want more. Summary: Mirabel has a nightmare, and Tío Bruno offers some unorthodox advice.

TW: Brief description of main character deaths, but only in the context of a dream. I always write with a PG rating.

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“…the miracle is dying because of you!” The words flew out of her mouth before she could think about the consequences. She watched them strike her Abuela, watched the light dim from her eyes as the accusation settled in her chest. Mirabel reached out, but Abuela was already fading before her, a hand on her heart, her edges shimmering and shivering as if Mirabel had dropped a stone into a pool that reflected her.

BECAUSE OF YOU. BECAUSE OF YOU. Her own words echoed around her, her voice distorting as it layered over itself again and again, growing in intensity until it was deafeningly loud, incomprehensible and terrible.

CRACK. Behind her, the echoing words converged into a single point. When she turned to look, all she saw before her was a huge void where the magical candle should have been, a split forming down the middle of Casita, yawning away from itself and then suddenly caving inwards in a cascading avalanche of destruction. The dust filled her lungs and made her cough, it stung her eyes. She blinked rapidly, desperately trying to clear her vision so she could see…she needed to be able to see to–to find them, to help…

The horrific, ear splitting sound of cracking plaster and crumbling stone echoed around her, so loud it felt like her chest was breaking apart along with it. She covered her head and ran forward, feeling debris pummel her arms. She skidded to a stop on her knees as the sound reached a crescendo, bending forward to protect the precious thing that was suddenly in her lap. Her arms had been empty only a moment ago, but suddenly they were full and she knew she had to protect whatever it was with all she had, with her life.

Then silence. Complete and total silence.

She looked down in her arms. It was Antonio, she was holding Antonio. He lay there, covered in dust and dirt, unmoving. A sob broke from her chest. She shook him but he didn’t wake, she was too late, she didn’t save him. She looked up in horror, searching for someone, anyone to help her. She was surrounded by the broken body of Casita, and in the rubble before her she could see buried faces peeking through. Her mother. Her father. Abuela. Camilo and Luisa. Tía Pepa, Tío Felix, Dolores, Isabela. Tío Bruno.

They were all gone. She could see it in their blank, uncannily still faces that all seemed to look toward her, accusingly. They were all lost, buried in the brokenness and destruction around her, and it was all her fault. It was all her fault. It was all her fault.

And she was alone.

Through it all, though she yelled and screamed with all her strength, until her throat hurt from the effort…all that came forth from her chest, all that surrounded her, was silence.

Mirabel bolted upright in her bed, a strangled cry bursting from her throat as she grabbed frantically at the blankets and sheets that lay bunched in her lap. She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide, as she slowly realized it was a dream. It was a dream, it was a dream, it was a dream…she repeated it to herself, squeezing her eyes shut with a single, quiet sob.

She was shaking. She tried to take a deep breath, but it was shaky, too. She wiped at the tears on her face and blinked rapidly at the ceiling, trying to dispel the haunting images from her head, to keep them from jumbling with the very real memories of that horrible night a year and a half ago. Behind her, Casita opened her bedroom shutter with a squeak, reaching toward her in concern, but Mirabel jumped away in response, wincing. The sound was too similar to the echoes in her dreams.

“I-I’m okay, I’m f-fine,” she said to the window, trying to reassure Casita, but each attempt was more a sob than a sentence. She repeated it until she could say it more steadily. “I-I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

It had been a while since she’d had this dream, and the shaky aftermath wasn’t entirely unfamiliar…but tonight was different. Tonight, she’d been holding Antonio. Not the candle, not the miracle—instead, her sweet, beautiful primo lay lifeless in her arms. All her fault.

It had felt so very real. She could still feel the ache from the thundering cracks in her ear drums; her throat felt dry with the layers of dust. She could still feel the weight of him in her arms. He was so heavy.

She wanted nothing more in that moment than to race to Antonio’s room and see him with her own eyes, hug him, touch his face, kiss his cheeks, reassure herself that he was in fact safe and well and…and…alive. She needed to touch him, to feel his realness and his solidness in order to convince herself that the dream was not.

She sniffed as a new round of tears escaped down her face. She wiped them away roughly. She was not going to do that.

Antonio is fine. She knew that, she did, and she wasn’t going to wake him up and scare him just because she was terrified from a nightmare, like a child.

…still though. Her room still felt too stuffy, the walls too close, and her chest was tight with lingering fear. Every little noise of Casita moving around her, each grate and grind and creak, set her heart thundering anew as if it was just the start of something worse to come. No matter what that reasonable part of herself tried to say, her body continued to feel as though her world was crashing down around her all over again, and no matter how tightly she held herself, she still felt like she was falling apart.

She needed air, needed to move. She flung her blankets aside and hurried to her door, not bothering to grab the shoes that Casita jostled toward her. The door swung open without her having to touch it, and she ran forward until she reached the railing of the upper balcony, leaning her stomach against the turquoise wood to press all the air out of her lungs. She gripped the railing until her knuckles turned white, digging her nails into the wood and shutting her eyes, taking in a big gulp of fresh air and letting it out in a silent, hitched flow.

I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m…

“Mirabel?”

She stiffened, her eyes shooting wide open at the unexpected sound. It took her a moment to see where it had come from, and it was so quiet she almost wasn’t sure she’d heard it at all. Across the house from her, near the darkened right corner of the hall by the stairs, stood a slightly hunched, shadowed figure. It was blurred—she had forgotten her glasses as she rushed from her room—but she could tell by the swishing edges of the silhouette that it was draped in green fabric, and it was then that her mind connected the voice with its owner. Tío Bruno.

He was hovering like a shadow at the bottom of the stairs to his tower, and she couldn't tell if he'd been heading down or up them. She hesitated for a moment, frozen in the unexpectedness of encountering anyone in the middle of the night, and then suddenly took off without thinking, padding on bare feet around the hall, nearly knocking them both down as she collided with him and wrapped her shaky arms around his middle. He grunted on impact, but quickly recovered, bringing his hands up to her shoulders to try to pull her away enough to look at her.

“Mira–Mirabel, what’s wrong? A-are you hurt? Should I–should I get Julieta? Where–”

He was frantically looking her up and down, looking for some kind of physical injury. She felt his grip tighten on her shoulders when his worried eyes finally reached her face.

“...Mirabel?” He searched her face, his expression falling at whatever he saw there. The honest concern in his voice squeezed at her heart, and she felt tears begin to escape down her cheeks again. A panicked look gripped his face, and he jumped to pull her back in, wrapping his arms around her and carefully tightening his embrace.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered. She buried her face in his shoulder, as much to hide her embarrassment as for comfort, and he leaned his head on hers, rubbing her back tentatively with one hand. She tensed her shoulders, willing herself to hold back the sob that threatened to break free, and in response she felt his posture soften with his words. “Ah, Mira. You’re okay, mija,” he murmured. “You’re okay. You’re okay. I-I've got you, kid. You're okay."

It was so silly. This was all so ridiculous, running to her Tío after a nightmare like she was six and not sixteen. It was absurd. But she couldn’t let go. He was real—he was real and tangible, and his hand was warm on her back, and his scratchy voice was comforting and kind, and he was okay. He was okay. He wasn’t buried in rubble, wasn’t lost forever. And the more she hugged him and let him hug her back, the more her terrible dream started to fade back into obscurity.

They stood there in the hallway for a good long while, his muttered assurances eventually falling silent but his arms around her never loosening. His shoulder was gritty, his clothing dusted with particles of sand that she could feel sticking to her face and eyelashes. Had he just had a vision? The reasonable part of her brain slowly started to regain control. She realized she was gripping the back of his ruana with tight fists, and slowly made herself release them. Her breathing had evened out, and she took one last deep, shaking breath before slowly stepping back from him, her face down, unable to meet his eyes. She wiped shamefully at her face and nose—geez, she was a mess. He kept a heavy hand on her shoulder.

When she didn’t speak, he broke the silence, his voice taut and just a little too high.

“You know what? I-I could use some tea. Yeah, let’s…let’s go make some hierbabuena, okay?”

She sniffed and nodded in quiet acceptance, letting him put his arm around her shoulders and steer them both to the stairs.

—

He led her to one of the stools that stood at the butcher block island in the center of the kitchen. She scooted onto it and leaned her elbows onto the wooden counter, wrapping her arms around herself in a pitiful hug. Though the night was temperate and the air still, she suddenly felt oddly cold now that Tío Bruno had removed his arm from around her shoulders.

Bruno paused and looked at her helplessly, his fingers twitching anxiously in front of him. He suddenly began glancing abstractly around himself, his brow bunched in concern like he was trying to find something, patting his torso as if searching nonexistent pockets. After a moment of tight-lipped thought, he seemed to reach some sort of silent conclusion and clumsily shrugged himself out of the ruana, sending a quiet hiss of sand raining to the floor. Bruno grimaced at Julieta’s no-longer-spotless kitchen tiles, but then shrugged dismissively and turned to dump the unwieldy fabric unceremoniously over Mirabel, pulling carefully at it until her head popped through the ruana’s neck hole. She let out a weak laugh and pulled the fabric closer around herself.

“Thanks,” she said softly. He nodded at her, satisfied that she would no longer freeze in the warm night air, and turned away to set water to boil in the kettle. A tinkle of metal pulled her attention down to her feet, where Casita was delicately bouncing her glasses back and forth with the kitchen tiles.

"Thank you," she whispered again, her voice dampened with tight-throated chagrin. She'd been so ridiculously panicked, she hadn't even thought to get them. The quiet calm of the kitchen now felt painfully damning to her previous behavior. She sighed as she slid them on her nose and blinked into clarity.

She glanced down at the mass of fabric bunched across her. The moss green ruana hung much too big on her, but it probably fit her about as well as it fit Tío Bruno. Tiny maroon mice trailed down the front—it was one of the first she'd embroidered for him. She ran her finger over one of the mice, absentmindedly appraising her work. Not bad, the stitches were still tight and unbunched. The lengths of green fabric hung heavily from her shoulders, and she thought she could perhaps see why Bruno liked to wear it so much. With her arms tucked inside, it felt like being wrapped in a blanket. The weight was comforting.

She looked over at her tío now, where he moved about his task in jerky, uncertain movements. Casita was nudging him through the tea making process with patiently tilting tiles. He'd retrieved the kettle and was shifting from foot to foot with it in his hands before suddenly jumping to fill it in the already-running sink, as if he needed a moment to remember the next step. She couldn't be sure, with his back turned to her, but he seemed particularly nervous. Probably from the undignified display she'd just put on upstairs. She winced.

Poor Tío.

She was thankful, though, for her sweet, strange tío. She considered him carefully, watching him move about the kitchen to grab the tetera and tea leaves, looking even slighter than usual in just his pajamas and bare feet. She blew air out her nose in mild amusement as he rose up on tip-toes in order to reach the cups. It had only been a year and a half since his return and she was already gaining on him in height. She’d likely be taller than him by this time next year, a fact not helped at all by his tendency to hunch in on himself all the time.

He muttered and waved a dismissive hand at Casita, who was now tipping the tiles under his feet to keep the hem of his nightshirt from catching on the small flame under the kettle.

Tío Bruno’s return had brought something new to her life that Mirabel didn’t know she’d needed—someone who understood her without looking down on her. Someone closer to…an ally, maybe.

She'd always had her parents of course, and she knew without a doubt that they loved her deeply. But Mamá, for all her adoration and assurances, had always tried to make up for Mirabel's deficits. Her well-meaning, constant fussing only confirmed in Mirabel's mind that her mother saw something lacking in her as well, something that couldn’t be fixed.

Pa was less overbearing in his love, but he still didn’t quite get it. He’d always tried to relate to her on the basis of their shared giftlessness, but he’d never been expected to have a gift. He didn’t understand that it was just different for his disappointment of a daughter. And so, though she had always been surrounded by a family she knew loved her more than anything in the world, she’d always felt…alone.

But Tío Bruno was different. Tío Bruno knew what it meant to live on the sidelines of a fantastic family, to be missing that unnamable something that made fitting in a natural thing. And so, though she’d always had a lively Tío Felix who could teach her to dance and make her laugh, and a goofy Pa who excelled at distracting her when things got hard, she realized that she now had something she hadn’t known she was missing. Now she had a Tío Bruno—an uncle who truly saw her and cared for her, but who was also…a friend.

Maybe she was just feeling overly sentimental because, you know, she’d just dreamed her entire family was dead and it was ENTIRELY all her fault…but she was suddenly just incredibly thankful. She was thankful it was Tío Bruno who’d stumbled across her, of all the ten other family members that could have witnessed her display of childish weakness. She was thankful to be sharing midnight tea with this uncle-friend who she somehow felt closer to than any of the family she’d known her whole life. And as she settled into the quiet of the empty kitchen, her jittery nerves slowly calming and her racing heartbeat evening out, she was thankful that—though she was perfectly capable of doing so—she wasn’t going to have to face the night alone.

Tío Bruno carried the over-filled tea cups carefully to the table, setting them both down as soon as his outstretched arms could reach the edge of the wood. Once they were securely on the stable surface, he pushed one in front of her and settled in front of the other. He blew over the surface of the tea as he fidgeted into a more comfortable position on the stool beside hers.

“Hey,” she said, wrapping her fingers around the warm cup and staring into its depths. “I’m, um, I’m glad you’re here.”

He looked up at her with a sad smile, his face still more worried than anything else…or, panicked, perhaps that was carefully managed panic in his eyes.

“O-of course, kid, I wasn’t going to leave you like…um, like that.” He winced and nodded his head in the direction of the balcony, indicating the location of her breakdown.

She grimaced. Yes, thank you, Tío.

“I know, I just…I meant in general. I’m just glad you’re…here.”

He stared at her with his too-wide eyes. What fear lingered in his expression slowly melted, and he looked for a moment like he wanted nothing more than to hug her as tight as he could. He reached out a hand toward hers, but hesitated, settling for patting her forearm awkwardly instead. He held in a breath, shoring up his emotions into something more manageable perhaps, before giving her a small, grateful smile, filled with genuine, unguarded affection.

“Yeah, me too, kid. More than you know.”

She could feel the tears welling up again, all the emotions of her dream still too close to the surface. She looked away and blinked to dispel the tears, taking a sip of her scalding tea to hide them further.

“So,” Tío Bruno said carefully, “so, you, uh, want to tell me what happened?”

Mirabel tensed and took another sip of her tea.

No, she thought. No I most definitely do not. I want to pretend it never happened and then maybe it will be true…

“Um,” she tried, but the words got stuck in her throat. She took another sip. Bruno waited. “I, um,…I had a…bad…dream.” She cringed. Oh, the shame. She even sounded like a child.

“Must have been a doozy,” he replied gently.

She nodded without looking at him.

“Do you, uh, want to tell me about it? I-I’ve heard that sometimes it can help to tell someone about it…makes it seem less scary when you say it out loud. It, I dunno, it takes away its power over you, or something like that. Now, I don’t know if that’s all true, a-a-and I know I’m not your ma or pa, but, I-I can still, you know, listen. I can always listen, when you, when you need it.”

She looked up at him then, and something in the way he glanced nervously at her and away again chased away some of her embarrassment. This was Tío Bruno she was talking to—he had absolutely no motive to judge her. And maybe it would feel better for someone to know. She’d never told anyone. Maybe that was why the dream never went completely away.

A long silence stretched between them. After a moment, Tío Bruno held up a pausing finger, interrupting her indecisive, circling thoughts. With one swift flourish, he reached out and pulled the hood of the borrowed ruana up and over her head.

“There,” he said, matter of factly. “Now you, you don’t have to be afraid of anything.”

She smiled weakly at him from under the hood, and he turned back to his tea, waiting quietly for her to find her courage. She tried to channel the dauntless spirit of Hernando.

“It...was about Casita,” she whispered finally, so quietly that Bruno had to lean toward her to hear. “About when…it fell.”

She could see him stiffen out of the corner of her eye, but he didn’t say anything.

“Everyone was…gone.” The tears pushed back at her eyes again, but she held them in.

I'm scared of nothing.

“I-it was all my fault. I tried, I really did—but I’d lost all of you a-and Toñito…I…I couldn’t save anyone. I was too late.”

She bit at her lip, unable to look away from the cup in her hands. Beside her, Tío Bruno knocked rapidly on the wood of the table, sending miniature rippling shock waves resonating through the surface of her tea.

“That’s…that really is a doozy, kid.”

She nodded.

“Have…have you had that dream before?”

She hesitated, then nodded again.

“How many times?” he whispered.

She opened her mouth, but then closed it again without answering.

She used to have the dream almost every night, in those first couple months after Casita fell. Thankfully, the well-earned fatigue that dragged her into bed after a day of building and working would sometimes lead her into a dreamless sleep. But if she did dream, it was of Casita falling. The details would change, the order of events shift, but key elements remained–her home lost, her family lost, the fault squarely resting on her shoulders.

She thought moving back into the finished home would help, and it had, a little. The dream would only come to haunt her maybe once a week, surprising her just as she’d been lulled into a false sense of security by several nights of its absence.

Now, though, she rarely had the dream. Once a month, twice at the most. But when she did have it, she had a hard time shaking it. She’d sometimes read or sew or just go for a walk around the balcony of Casita, taking deep breaths as she went and trying to focus on tiny details around her, like Luisa had once told her to do. Sometimes she could fall back asleep. She never wanted to, but sometimes she still could.

But this time…with Toñito. It was different. That had never happened before.

“A lot, I guess,” she finally whispered back.

“Ah, kid,” he said, his voice heavy.

Mirabel took in a quick breath and picked up her tea, spinning the cup back and forth between her palms to dispel the sudden anxious energy in her arms. She drew up her shoulders, trying to pull back from the heaviness in her own chest.

“But not as much now!” she chirped, willing some levity into her voice. She pushed back the hood and sat up straighter. “Only once in a while now, so it’s getting better. Really, you don’t have to worry, Tío, I know…I know it’s just a dream.”

She looked up at him with a smile, but it grew strained when she saw his face. His mouth was a tight, thin line, his brows pulled together, wholly unconvinced by her efforts. His eyes didn’t flit away from her this time.

“You haven’t told anyone, have you.” It wasn’t a question.

“I don’t need to, I’m fine, really.”

“Mira, that—" he pointed a twitching finger toward the balcony "—that didn’t seem fine.”

“I’m fine,” she urged, her voice more pleading than confident. He continued to stare at her, his mouth tightening even more. She tilted her head up slightly and held his gaze, something in her feeling oddly defiant. He sighed and looked away, no match for her resolve.

“Look, kid, I just, I want you to know—,” he paused, his words seemingly caught before they could come out. She raised her eyebrows at him expectantly, but he just pulled in his lips and then blew out a puff of air.

Tío Bruno was never the best at getting his words out, especially when he was unsure, but she suddenly wondered if this had anything to do with the vision he refused to tell her about, and her stomach clenched just a little.

Bruno growled softly in frustration and knocked out a pattern on the table, knock knock knock knock knock, ending with one exasperated knock to his head. Mirabel softened her expression and tried to wait patiently, just like he had for her just a moment before. She briefly considered giving him his ruana back, for reassurance, but then Bruno took a breath and tried again.

“I-I want you to know that you…you don’t have to be lonely. A-and if you are ever feeling lonely, just, just don’t be…anymore. You don’t have to. Yaknow—b-be lonely.”

Mirabel tensed at his words. “I’m not lonely,” she replied, a little too quickly. “I have everyone, la famila, Abuela, Mamá, Pa. I have you.”

“Good,” he nodded, though he seemed a bit dejected, as if he hadn’t quite made the point he wanted to. “I’m glad…I’m glad you know. That you’ve got everyone, because you do, you do, we’re all here for you, kid. I’m here for you.”

“I know,” she assured him, a bit confused. He was agitated, as if he still had something more to say. “I know, Tío. Really.”

Bruno sighed and looked down into his tepid tea, as if there was something in there was looking for. She glanced at him one last time before returning to her own tea, taking a longer drink now that the liquid had cooled.

He was acting so strange, and if she thought about it, he had been for a while. He’d been overly cautious around her, worried and hovering. Sometimes she'd catch him looking at her like something about her made him incredibly sad. Sure, part of that could just be counted off as classic Tío Bruno but…something told her it wasn’t.

It had to be the vision. It had all started then, that day back in the forest, months before.

She tightened her grip on her mug. It took all of her self control not to ask him about it. She knew he had boundaries that she had to respect when it came to his gift, she’d learned that the hard way. She knew that if she was supposed to know, he’d tell her.

He’d tell her, right?

“Tío, if you have something you want to say, you can just say—”

“I thought you’d died,” he blurted out, far too loud. Mirabel set down her cup and looked at him, her breath held. Her stomach clenched even tighter and she suddenly felt the fear from her dream, almost completely gone, return in full force. Bruno was staring at the table, his hands gripping the cup in front of him so tightly she actually worried for a moment he might break it.

“W-when Casita fell, last year. I-I got myself out, and then I looked back and I saw…I saw you. And then, and then, and then, the tower, my tower…Mirabel, I thought you’d been crushed, and it was all my fault. I’d sent you off to Isabela, and, and put this stupid idea in your head that all of this was somehow up to you to fix, and there you were, right where I’d sent you, like a coward, while I ran and hid. I—”

He stopped and took in a sharp breath.

"I always run and hide," he muttered through gritted teeth.

Mirabel was frozen to her seat. The fear that he was somehow talking about the vision was rapidly fading, replaced by a void of swirling incomprehensible thoughts. She’d never heard him talk about that day, that almost-forgotten moment when they'd locked eyes right before everything came crashing down around her.

Tío Bruno looked up at her, his eyes pleading and pained.

“Mira, I-I will never let that happen again. I-I will never send you off to go at it alone, when someone should be there with you—w-when I should be there with you.”

As the initial shock of his words began to wear off, her chest began to burn fiercely. She had no idea why, but as she suddenly understood what he was trying to say, the feelings flooding her were so convoluted, rising all at once from some long ignored part of her heart, that it was absolutely overwhelming. She felt the tears start up again, but this time she couldn’t stop them from falling.

Bruno cringed distressingly and reached out to grab a corner of the ruana, wiping at her face clumsily and smearing her cheeks with sand and tears. He put his hands on her shoulders, gripping her tightly.

“You…you saved me, Mirabel. In so many ways. I don’t think you even know—” he shook his head, started again. “You don’t have to do everything alone anymore, okay? I won’t let that happen again. W-when I was a kid, I didn’t have a dad around to, you know, because…because…of, well, everything, so I always wished—I mean, I-I know what it's like to-to-to…A-AND I know you have a Pa! A wonderful, amazing Pa, and I-I don’t ever want to get in the way there—I mean…I-I’m not trying to—Urghf.” Bruno blew out a raspberry in frustration, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with a bright desperation, imploring. “Look, kid, I’m, I’m not the best, at-at well, at anything, but, but I’m here! And I’m not going anywhere, not this time. Whatever you need, okay? I’m…I’m here. Right here.”

She nodded fervently and reached up to grip his forearms. As another wave of tears began to fall, she pulled him forward into a crushing hug, glasses pressing firm against her nose as she buried her face into the curve of his shoulder. He had to quickly drop down a foot to keep from falling off his stool, but he regained his balance and leaned wholeheartedly into the embrace.

“Just, just promise me you won’t let yourself be alone, okay?” he whispered, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Don’t…don’t hide yourself away from everyone. You won’t gain a thing from that, really, b-believe me. I…well, I know.”

She nodded again into his nightshirt and gripped him even tighter.

“Okay. I promise, Tío.”

He hummed a relieved sound, putting a gentle hand to the back of her head and cradling it there for a moment. Then with one final squeeze, he let her go.

As she sat back, he reached out and tucked a curl of her hair behind her ear, then patted her cheek gently. She smiled, surprised at the uncharacteristic gesture, but touched nonetheless. It reminded her of something Mamá would do.

With that, as suddenly as his vulnerable outburst had appeared, it was tucked nervously away. Tío Bruno fidgeted awkwardly in his seat and turned back to his cup, running his finger around the rim. Mirabel cleared her throat and swiped at her eyes, wiping away the last of the tears. He’d been right, about sharing her fear—she did feel…lighter, somehow.

“So," she asked with a final sniff, "why were you down here in the middle of the night?” She suddenly perked up in realization. “Did–did you know I would…?”

“No, no,” he said, brushing away the idea with a wave of his hand. “I, uh, I have—I mean had, had a headache, and it was keeping me up, so I decided to get some fresh air. Worked out though, huh?"

"A headache? Tío are you avoiding your gift again?" The lingering thickness of her voice did nothing to soften the accusation.

"No! No, I…uh, well maybe, sort of yes."

"Why?" she cried out in exasperation. "You know what it does to you and—wait, is that what all that sand was from the other day? In your room? Is something happening with your gift?!"

"Ay, Ay, tranquila, mija, don't get all worked up again, alright?" he begged, wincing. "Please, no more crying."

"I'm not crying." She groused, and she made a more concerted effort to swallow back the tears that were again pushing to the surface. She really did need to get a hold of herself. What was the matter with her?

"I am upset to hear that you're in pain for no good reason," she added grumpily, swiping again at her cheek. He frowned, his eyebrows drawing in mild offense.

"No good—a-alright, look, i-i-if you must know, Ms. Pushy,…yes, the sandy-ness you saw the other day was from…struggling…with my gift. I-I guess you could say I had a bad dream, too. A vision-dream. It's a whole thing, like a nightmare with a headache, covers my bed in sand. Bleh. Makes it impossible to get comfortable after, so, so, I was just…out. Getting some fresh air."

Mirabel watched him quietly. She didn't like the sound of that, not one bit. His room had been in total chaos when she'd seen it, and he'd looked just awful. A 'vision-dream' that caused that much mess must have been—to borrow Tío's words—a doozy.

“Alright then," she challenged, "your turn. What was in your dream?”

Bruno sputtered into his tea. “Nah, nah, it was nothing,” he replied as he reburied his face in his cup. He managed to take a drink and then sighed. “Just a vision that really won’t quit, that’s all.”

Mirabel frowned. “That sounds like avoiding to me. And if you're getting headaches, too? I don't like this at all.”

"I'm not avoiding them. Not all the way, anyway. I'll have you know, I've been using my gift on purpose! In other ways. I’ve just seen enough of this one, particular vision, is all. I’ve seen it plenty. Maybe the miracle is on the fritz or something…or not! Or not. Um…sometimes this just, just happens. My old brain gets stuck on some future and doesn’t want to let go.” He knocked at his skull. “I’m okay, though, kid, really. It’s nothing disastrous, so I just…need to wait it out. Eh, iiit’ll go away.” He waved his hand beside his head as if he was chasing it away as they spoke.

Mirabel hummed petulantly. “Well, you know your gift better than anyone, but…” she began, and he winced in anticipation of her unsolicited advice.

She paused and carefully softened her voice. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

“All I’m saying is that maybe you’re missing something. If the miracle won’t stop sending you this same vision…maybe you just need to look at it differently. You know, a new perspective.”

He nodded without looking at her. She sighed and dropped the subject. He would tell her if he needed her help. He knew the offer always stood. He knew he didn't have to be lonely, either.

Mirabel sighed at the bottom of her empty cup. She had no idea what time it was, but she did know it was seriously late. Tomorrow was quickly becoming today, and she was going to be exhausted. Despite his best intentions, Osvaldo was never an easy visit. She should really get some rest.

“Well, then. It's late. I guess it’s time to go back to bed,” she stated dryly, and the knot in her stomach tightened at the thought. Though I’d really rather not, she added in a low murmur, more to the air than to anyone in particular.

Bruno looked up and frowned at her as she grabbed his empty cup and took it with hers to the sink. The clink of the cups in the basin rang out with glum finality.

“Then we won’t,” Bruno said suddenly, and she turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. He was staring at her as if he'd suddenly had some remarkable revelation about the whole situation.

“What?”

“You don’t want to go back to sleep…well, then we won’t.”

“What?” she asked again. “That’s not a solution, Tío.”

“It’s not a good solution, but it is a solution.”

She laughed and shook her head. She couldn’t stay up all night, she’d already be useless enough as it was now.

“Come on, why not?" he argued. "You got somewhere to be in the morning?”

She rolled her eyes at him. His usual half-joking argument. He was referring to their tradition of morning tea, but this time she did in fact have somewhere to be. She had to meet with Osvaldo to discuss the supplies for the surprise party, bright and early. A scheduling decision she was now regretting.

"Actually, I do. I have a…. meeting… at seven." Smooth, she thought, internally rolling her eyes.

"Well, that's what coffee is for, right?"

"Tío, it's like one in the morning," she replied. "You're crazy."

He scrambled up from his seat and rounded the kitchen island, pointing a finger high in the air.

"Perhaps to be too practical is madness," he quoted grandly. She recognized that one. Don Quixote? She bit her lip.

"Didn't he die in the end of that book?"

"Look, Mirabel, you've been making the responsible choice, what's best for everyone else, since you were five," he urged, his voice oddly serious. His words nudged at something tight in her heart.

"Do what you want for once, instead of what you have to do," he continued more gently. "I'm your crazy uncle, I-I-I think…I think maybe I'm supposed to give you crazy advice like that. A-a new perspective."

She fiddled with the edge of the ruana and mulled over his words. Do what you want. What did she want? She didn’t even know. She didn't want to go back to her dark and lonely room, that's for sure. Maybe she was just tired, but she somehow couldn't think of an argument to his unorthodox logic.

“Okay," she said reluctantly. "Okay. No sleeping. So then, oh wise uncle, what do we do instead?”

He scratched at his chin. "D'you like cards?"

—

"Sevens," Tío Bruno said.

She squinted at her cards. "Uh…no. Go fish."

Tío Bruno leaned forward and glanced at the cards in her hand. She was sitting on the scratchy woven rug at his feet en la sala—an exercise in mild discomfort in an effort to keep herself awake. Her back was against his chair, so all he had to do was look down to get a full view of every single one of her cards…but they'd abandoned all reason long ago. They were on their third round of the game, and she was starting to lose her fight against fatigue.

Bruno reached down and pulled a seven from her hand with more flourish than necessary, placing it in his own.

"Oh, sorry," she muttered, stifling a yawn. "Didn't see it there."

"Mmmhmm, your turn."

"Um," she squinted at her cards again, leaning her head against his knee. "Nines?"

"Ve a pescar," he replied. Go fish.

She could have sworn she instructed her hand to reach out and draw a card from the deck, but in groggy disorientation, she realized Bruno was instead carefully pulling all her cards from her slack grip and setting them on the table in front of her. She was clearly losing the battle against sleep.

"I-I'm awake," she slurred in protest. "Elevens."

"Okay, kid," he laughed. "It was a valiant effort, but maybe it's time to head to bed."

"No! No sleep! Practical madness!" She swatted away his hand as it reached down to help her up and snuggled closer against his leg instead, pulling the warm, blanket-like ruana around her and adjusting her head more comfortably on his knee. "I just need to rest my eyes for, like, a minute …"

Stubbornly cocooned against the faulty wisdom of sleeping any length of time in her lean-to position on the floor, she let herself begin to drift off again.

After a quiet minute of stillness, she felt Tío Bruno shift and carefully place his hand on her head, uncertainty evident in the tentative twitching of his fingers. She tipped her head back into his palm, managing to crack one sleep-blurred eye open just long enough to flash him a small smile. At that, his hand rested heavier against her hair, relaxing with obvious relief that she hadn't flinched or brush him away, like he probably expected.

Mirabel was snug in the weight of the ruana, and Tío Bruno's heavy hand was like the safety of an anchor to shore, but she could still feel a dream lapping at the edge of her consciousness as the depths of sleep began to take hold. She pulled back from it warily, still tender from the nightmare. She frowned and squeezed her eyes tighter, trying feebly to clear her mind and shift away into dreamless rest instead.

But then, quite unexpectedly, Bruno's scratchy voice began to murmur down to her, breaking through the shallow murk of her dozing sleep. She tensed involuntarily in surprise.

Is he…singing? she thought groggily. He is singing…

She held as still as she could, willing herself awake to witness this strange boldness from her normally painfully timid Tío. As if on cue, Bruno seemed to hesitate, perhaps sensing her alertness. But then, ever so carefully, the hand on her head lifted and he slowly began to pull at strands of her hair, brushing them away from her face and tucking each gently behind her ear. He resumed the lullaby, a little louder this time.

The broken melody was slow and lilting, resonating and low. It reminded her of a hymn, but not any hymn she'd heard before. The words were not quite comprehensible in their soft murmur, but something about them held the shape of…hope, maybe, or solace. He was interspersing his scratchy singing with humming, as if he couldn’t quite remember all the words, but the effect was a soothing blend of sound that was tender and so genuinely loving in its imperfection.

As the moments passed, sweet and soft and safe, she found the tender combination of her Tío's voice and his hand brushing back her hair made it almost impossible to continue to resist the pull of sleep. Gradually, she let his lullaby ease her into a burdenless slumber, almost like she was six and not sixteen. Like…she half-realized before drifting off completely…like, perhaps, she’d long needed.

Read the rest of La Traes on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38318872/chapters/95750440

#Encanto #bruno madrigal #mirabel madrigal #Encanto fanfic #tio bruno #my writing #la traes

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broflovski-brah · 2 years

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Camilo Madrigal x FEM!Reader-“Don’t You Dare Say Her Name!”

Genre: Angst

Status: Dating

POV: Third

Pronouns: She/her

TW: Death, illness, crying and yelling

Summary: Y/N is suffering with an illness and it takes a toll on her, which breaks Camilo.

Y/N had always been the black sheep of the Encanto. She always seemed to have something on her mind. When she’d met Camilo, they never expected to end up being best friends. Best friends turned into something more, cliche, I know.

Y/N, though had just been diagnosed with a horrible illness, one that was hard to recover from. Camilo had sworn to stay by her side throughout the entire recooperation and did exactly that. He stayed at the hospitals, he got them food, he did everything he could.

Camilo had promised that he would come over to the hospital for cuddles and comfort that night. He took his ruana and made sure all the wrinkles were out. He combed through his hair and reapplied some of his makeup, and headed over.

The hospital nurses escorted him immediately to Y/N’s room and left them alone. Y/N’s parents had left for the night, so it was just the two of them.

He knocked on the door as he opened it and saw Y/N crack a smile.

“Hey, Cami…”

Her voice was hoarse and she immediately started having a coughing fit.

He hurried over and patted her back lightly.

“How are you doing?”

“Could be better…”

He chuckled half heartedly. He knew she was joking, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

”Hey…I need to talk to you…”

Camilo’s heart skipped a beat.

”A-about what?”

Y/N took a deep breath.

“The doctors…um…I…I only have a few weeks to live.”

His eyes widened.

“Y/N, if this is a joke, it isn’t funny…please tell me you’re joking…”

Y/N couldn’t speak with the lump in her throat.

”No…Y/N, they have to be wrong…”

”They’re doctors, Cami…they’re not wrong.”

Y/N hugged him tightly, the IV slightly indenting his skin.

”We can get through this, together.”

About three weeks later, Camilo got called into the hospital. They said it was urgent.He ran into Y/N’s room and opened the door.

There she was, laying with her pale face, eyes glazed and barely open and a heart monitor beeping much slower than it should’ve been.

”Y/N…”

She tried responding, but it was hardly a whisper. He ran over and sat on her bed.

“I’ll be okay, Milo…I’ve got to go…”

”No! You can’t…please…”

She held onto his hand tightly and smiled weakly at him.

“I’ll see you on the other side, my love. I have to go…”

And with that, Y/N shut hee eyes and the monitor flatlined.

“Y/N..? Y/N, please! Don’t leave me!”

The doctors rushed in and tried to comfort him, but his body started shifting faster than anything they’d ever witnessed.

“Y/N! Please! Come back…” his voice shifted between multiple people’s as he continued crying.

“I loved her…”

After that day, Camilo became a shell of the person he was. He wouldn’t leave his room, he refused to eat or drink anything and he would just sit in front of his mirrors, shifted into the girl he loved.

“My love…why wasn’t I better?”

No response.

He went into town one day though, to grab something for his family, when he overheard a conversation.

“Well, I still think Y/N is faking the disease. She just doesn’t want to come into school because she’s too stupid.”

Somethjng snapped inside of him.

He walked over to the girls and started yelling:

”Y/N IS DEAD! HAVEN’T YOU HEARD?! OR ARE YOU JUST TOO BLIND TO PAY ATTENTION TO THE WORLD AROUND YOU?!”

”Camilo!”

Mirabel had overhead the entire thing and hurried over.

”DON’T YOU EVER SAY HER NAME AGAIN! DON’T YOU DARE!”

His voice broke on the last part and Mirabel embraced him.

“Camilo, Camilo…shh…it’s okay!”

The girls were long gone by now and the town had their eyes on the Madrigal cousins.

His face crumbled as he finally let himself cry for the first time that week.

“She’s gone Mira…and I can’t do anything to save her…”

#camilo madrigal x reader #camilo my beloved #camilo supremacy #camilo disney #camilo #camilo x y/n #camilo x reader

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futurstic-divineawakened · 2 years

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Warm Couple vs Cool Couple: The Mirabel Years

* They all were happy Bruno was back

* And they enjoy the time spend with him

* However with such a quickness Bruno became Mirabel’s favorite adult

* It did not work for them

* Pepa and Felix did not want their 3rd child to leave them alone

* Julieta and Agustin could not lose their youngest to Bruno

* It didn’t help that when everyone came outside for breakfast everyone stare at Mirabel

* Bruno cough up his cafe when he saw her

* Mirabel was wearing a white shirt with black embroidery and a green skirt

* Not blue, not yellow

* Green

* Mirabel then explain, she has worn the other family colors but Tio Bruno needs his colors worn too

* “Mira! Your suppose to be mi hija” Pepa exclaim

* “Stop trying to take mi hija away from me” Julieta said before Mirabel answer

* Agustin look at Bruno and with a slight joking tone told him

* “This is war Brunito��

* Bruno respond with a bring it on smirk “I’m older than you”

* “Well it’s not just me” Mirabel said

* The rest of the parents look at their kids. Isabela and Luisa was in their respective colors and so were Camilo and Dolores

* “Tio Bruno” Antonio yelled

* He ran towards the family and the shock and gasp that came out of Pepa and Felix would be funny if their faces didn’t show betrayal

* Antonio was wearing a green shirt and brown pants. That green shirt was the same color as Mirabel’s skirt, as Bruno’s ruana

* “Tio me and Mirabel will dress like you” Antonio said as he went to Mirabel and hug her leg

* “I.. thank you” Bruno said as he look at the two with joy

* Those two were the first to welcome him back to the family

* They saw him for who he was and not as Bad Luck Bruno

* Bruno felt something shift in the air and he didn’t know what it was but he didn’t like it

* It was the parents, obviously jealous

* Pepa did not like she was about to lose two of her kids to Bruno and she was willing to fight

* Agustin was making sure he is still number one in his Miraboo’s heart and as the favorite tio to Antonio

* Felix just got his Mirabel to wear yellow and now Bruno comes in and steal her from him, he even got Antonio on his side

* Julieta love that her hija love her tio so much

* But she didn’t want to lose her to him

* This means war

And soon the town watch as chaos happens in the Madrigal family, all because of the color green. It didn’t help that some of the townspeople were in on it too

#mirabel madrigal #encanto headcanons #encanto #agustin madrigal #felix madrigal #julieta madrigal #dolores madrigal #camilo madrigal #isabela madrigal #pepa madrigal #antonio madrigal #luisa madrigal #abuela alma madrigal #bruno madrigal

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sokkas-first-fangirl · 2 years

Note

Oohhh I have something I like to think about - Isa making a huge swing out of vines for the family to play with, and some people cough cough maybe Mira and Camilo cough cough getting too into it/swinging too high

Grandkid shenanigans!

Isabela was a lot more fun now and everyone knew it. Antonio rather bluntly stated, "Isa's a lot nicer!"

Isabela looked like she was about to cry, so Mirabel quickly suggested trying out something fun while Isa practiced with her Gift. Two birds with one stone: bonding time and practice.

So Isabela made them swings. She gently pushed Antonio on his and she made a bigger one for Mirabel and Camilo to share.

True to form, they may have gotten carried away.

Mirabel and Camilo were always the kids at the park to swing faster, higher, with reckless abandon. They'd always try to swing right over the top, screaming at the top of their lungs.

Being teenagers didn't actually make a difference. They swung faster and faster, laughing and whooping.

"Careful," Isa warned, to no avail.

They swung harder, they swung higher...

And inevitably toppled right off the vine swing in a tangle of limbs, crashing into each other.

"Uh oh," Antonio said. He and Isabela were gaping at them.

Mirabel groaned, Camilo rolled over with a pained gasp...But they also jumped right back up and ran back to the swing, elbowing each other and arguing over whose fault it was.

And so the cycle continued.

#answers #prompts #asks #mirabel madrigal #camilo madrigal #antonio madrigal #isabela madrigal #encanto #encanto fanfic #madrigal family shenanigans #my writing

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sidecharactersdomatter · 9 months

Note

Hi! I recently read Disenchanted rewrite and from the snippet I saw, I find it to be better than the movie. I especially love how you gave the two sisters an actual relationship with each other.

Oh my, this is really huge for my rewrite, thank you so much for your simple and really helpful feedback. While we’re at it, how about I break down the first 5 things on my fic to do list to help share why I’m rewriting Disenchanted:

I rewrote Disenchanted because I had to: This is going to be really quick, the reason I’m rewriting this sequel is because I got so pissed off by how out of character Giselle, Robert, and Morgan were depicted in the movie I couldn’t get past the first act satisfied and ended up looking at spoilers on wiki and Moderngurlz’s review. Since Disenchanted got sent to streaming and the sneak peeks ended up killing the hype, this movie never stood a chance with the Rotten Tomatoes critics and the Oscars. Hopefully, once Wish comes out this November it’ll end up avoiding the pitfalls Disenchanted ended up in. Let’s face it, no one on the Disenchanted writing team actually understood the assignment.

2. I rewrote Disenchanted’s prologue because I felt like it: Let’s just say I didn’t like the chipmunks recapping the first movie and speedrunning the whole prologue. That’s why I had Morgan and Sofie recap the first movie to make it more audibly tolerable for the readers.

3. I made Morgan the main protagonist because I felt like it: Let’s be honest, Morgan was done so dirty in the sequel, because the whole movie had Giselle be the main character (*cough* main character syndrome *cough) I really did not like how her portrayal as a stereotypical angsty teenager felt really forced and the excuse got old super fast. It also shows that nobody knew how to write an authentic teenaged character. Mirabel, Camilo, Mei, Miriam, Priya, and Abby worked because they were all given their own unique traits that made them likable to the audience, while Morgan in the first act felt pretty irritating and unoriginal. That’s why I drastically changed her personality in my rewrite.

4. I aged up Morgan’s little sister Sofia to be 6 years old because I felt like it: One of the issues of Disenchanted that ended up being executed poorly, was Giselle having a new kid, Sofia. The downside why it didn’t work out was that in the film Sofia doesn’t really impact the story since she’s just a freaking infant that doesn’t do much. The problem with writing infant characters especially under one is that they don’t really have much agency in the story and end up becoming living props. Heck, Mayday Parker from Across the Spiderverse was a more compelling character cause she was animated really well in her own movie. Oh yeah, Across the Spiderverse works so well as a sequel because it respects its characters. More infant characters that actually work in a story are Jack Jack (Incredibles), Sunny Baudelaire (A series of unfortunate events) and Grogu (The Mandalorian) In Disenchanted, Infant!Sofie existed as a plot device just to show how tough city life(well not really to me) got for the Philips and why Giselle decided to move her family to Monroeville. She existed as a plot device just so knockoff Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather could find someone to babysit. She existed as a plot device just so Edward and Nancy could give her a wand. She exists as a plot device as a true Andalasian(oh yeah spoilers that doesn’t really touched upon in the movie) to make Morgan feel inferior in her own family. Maybe they should’ve had her be played by a child actor instead of twin infants. Not only would that have given us an interesting dynamic with her older sister Morgan, but it also could have subverted the mean step sister trope, (that whole trope subversion gimmick never happens in the sequel, that’s when you know this was gonna be disappointing.). Or if they wanted the evil stepmother personality shifts to make more sense, they could’ve just had Giselle be pregnant until the end of the movie (no wait, that topic would be too sensitive for Disney to show). Or just not have a new child to keep the focus the conflict between Morgan and Giselle, not much would change. That’s why Sofie is 6 in The Fairytale of my life, and I’m going to show her dynamics with her 3 family members.

5. I gave Morgan and Sofie a really good sibling dynamic because I had to: This answers the topic above. Disenchanted is one of the prime examples that shows why a sibling age gap between a teenager and an infant does not work. One of the positive traits I wanted to give Morgan was being a good role model for her new sister and it’s going to be shown throughout my fic.

Well, I hope this satisfies your ask. I’m going to be very busy finishing Ch 2 and writing the rest of my rewrite

#side answers #ask box #answered asks #Disney enchanted #enchanted 2007 #Disenchanted #disenchanted 2022 #disenchanted critical #Disenchanted salt #Disenchanted rewrite #The fairytale of my life #This might’ve ended up as a bit of a rant #Morgan enchanted #Morgan philip #Sofia philip #Giselle enchanted #Giselle Philip #Disenchanted criticism

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jacarandaaaas · 4 months

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I love watching encanto reactions especially the ones who constantly comment on the performance and characters. Saw a reaction recently where this guy kept mentioning “such a great performance” and he’s right the voice acting is so good in this movie I feel like I don’t praise it enough. Nobody had a bad performance even those townspeople with like 2 lines were super memorable!

#encanto #encanto disney #disneys encanto #I love when people see the plate scene and it’s the same ‘oh…’ reaction #because it’s so heartbreaking #saw the guy also comment about how he really fell for mirabel as a character and how great her performance and animation was #agreed!!#loved how he constantly complimented the lighting and shots because it really is gorgeous #and the music!!#it just feels so warm seeing someone feel the same joy u feel watching a movie #makes me realize how badly I want to rewatch the full thing like ahhh #he commented on how luisa has a song that’s unique and mirabel has a song unique to her character #COUGH WAITING ON A MIRACLE IS NOT A CAMILO SONG #like I just had fun watching it!#it’s so nice to see people not be brain dead about this movie

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miracles-and-butterflies · 9 months

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For @dandylion94, based on the prompt: “Mirabel’s birthday is coming, and Luisa is determined to make her the perfect birthday cake to make up for all of the birthdays that were forgotten.”

Absolutely love this idea. I hope you enjoy it. Apologies for this taking so long.

Comments are always appreciated.

~~~~~~

What Baking Can Do

It was the 23rd February: a week or so before Mirabel’s birthday.

Not that anyone would know. Mirabel certainly hadn’t mentioned it or added it to the family calendar or even hinted towards any possible gift ideas. A habit she had had since her fifth birthday, and kept after Casita’s rebuild.

She had celebrated one birthday since then. Her sixteenth. Although, it had really been more of a welcome home/return party for Bruno, than anything in honour of Mirabel. In fact, she spent the entire day sewing in her room.

Maybe that’s why, at some point during the early hours of the morning, Dolores was loudly awoken by Luisa deciding:

“I’m baking today. I need you to go shopping for ingredients first thing.”

Casita had barely opened its front doors before Dolores slumped heavily against the wall.

With a yawn, she let her fingers uncurl from the bags holding the collection of ingredients she had purchased from Luisa’s very extensive and poorly written list. The tiles of the house moved quickly, gently catching the bags, gliding them swiftly to the kitchen, as Dolores sleepily followed.

“Where have you been, sis?”

When she looked up, rubbing her eyes, she found Camilo poking his head over the bannister. Shouldn’t he be at school by now?

“Something smells good. Did you go shopping? Did you get anything for me?”

Ah, yes. How could she have forgotten?

She vaguely remembered hearing Camilo’s coughing fits, followed by a long speech to their parents of a sleepless night, while she had been arguing with some townsperson with overpriced eggs. Honestly, if Señor Tobias thinks anyone is going to pay that much for an egg—

She raised an eyebrow at her brother. “I thought you were ‘completely bedridden’ because Tía Julieta hadn’t had time to heal you before she left for work this morning?”

“Yeah, I am,” Camilo nodded. “But something smells good and I wanna know what. What you got there?”

“Nothing you can have because you’re sick.”

“Are they ingredients for lunch? I’m starving.”

“No, they’re ingredients for Luisa.”

“Luisa?” Camilo exclaimed. “What’s Luisa cooking for?”

With another yawn, she pulled Casita’s front doors closed. Shutting out the sunlight gave some relief to her tired eyes, a relief she would rather enjoy in peace. Not that Camilo took the hint.

“It’s our primita’s birthday in a few days,” she answered.

“Huh? I thought the nerd’s birthday was yesterday,” said Camilo. “Wait, we’re actually celebrating that this year?”

Unimpressed and too exhausted to argue, Dolores simply carried on to the kitchen.

She found Luisa preparing the equipment and still flicking through several of her mother’s cooking books. Not that she could blame Luisa for that, Mirabel was difficult to make or buy things for: as she always would pick something to please someone else. And it’s not like there was previous birthday parties to take example menus from.

“You still haven’t picked anything?” Dolores guessed.

“Wrong,” Luisa announced, tossing another recipe book back to its shelf. Said shelf was now messy and unorganised, in a way that Julieta and Mirabel would collapse over when they got home. “I have limited it down. A bit. I know she doesn’t like lemon, coconut, raisins and sultanas—”

“You just made me buy several bags of raisins.” Dolores complained bitterly.

Even Casita clattered its tiles in annoyance, as the one who was now putting away the ingredients.

Her cousin flashed a guilty grin. “Sorry. I offered the few we had to her before school, after you had gone. Got a very confident ‘no’ before she backtracked.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have sent me off at the crack of dawn,” Dolores mumbled under her breath. “If she really doesn’t mind, then couldn’t you just bake anything?”

“No! It has to be perfect. We haven’t celebrated her birthday in years, so she’s getting a cake that she will enjoy. And by starting now, I will have perfected the recipe by her birthday.”

Having no argument, the older woman just sighed again. “Fine. Let’s actually decide on a recipe, otherwise you’ll never be finished before school ends. Do you remember what Tía Julieta made for her fifth? Because all of that is an instant no.”

“So no torta de leche then. Might be biased, but I have a good feeling about torta María Luisa. That must be named after a historical figure - she’d be all over that.”

“It’s a safe choice taste-wise. And the history is very Mirabel. Do that then.”

“Or you could make something she’ll actually enjoy eating,” a third voice piped from the doorway.

The pair turned to where Isabela had sauntered in from the doorway. She didn’t say anything more as she began nosying over the various recipe books, flicking the odd page here or there, before stopping and shoving a book towards them with a triumphant grin.

“Torta de manzana?” Dolores read, with an eyebrow raised. “We haven’t had that in years, not since… must have been my gift ceremony. I’m surprised you remembered that.”

Isabela gave a light shrug. “I didn’t. It’s just the first thing I saw that had lots of cinnamon in. Mirabel likes cinnamon.”

“She does?” Dolores inquired.

“She does.” The nature lover affirmed.

“Oh yeah, when Mama makes each of us our specialised focaccia bread, Mirabel’s is always just cinnamon-sugar,” Luisa recalled. She gently smacked her head. “Why didn’t I think of that? Thanks, Bela.”

“Right, well, seeing as you’ve now got a recipe, Isa and I will leave you to it,” Dolores waved, as she guided Isabela back to the door.

Luisa looked blank. “You two aren’t helping?”

Now was Dolores’ turn to look blank, even Isabela looked a little stunned.

“No. You’re a nightmare to be in a kitchen with. You angry-bake.” Dolores said.

“I don’t angry-bake.”

“Wait, so you really want us to help?” She asked, gesturing towards herself and Isabela, the latter in particular. “And you aren’t going to be a nightmare about it?”

“Of course. I could really use your help,” Luisa nodded. “This cake needs to be perfect and we’ve got to be done and tidy everything before school ends. Besides, it’ll get done a lot faster if we work together.”

Looking back, that was the point Dolores should’ve dragged herself and Isabela to the other side of Encanto.

~~~~~~

The trio had a small, simple process going. Dolores would read out the recipe, Isabela would prepare the ingredients and Luisa doing pretty much everything else.

The first part, the apples, which Dolores had envisioned being the more problematic part as Isabela would have a knife, had actually gone by rather successfully. They weren’t perfect slices by any means but the only grumble from Luisa was when Isabela added extra cinnamon to the mix. The anger was soon cooled by the explanation of “Mirabel will like it better.”

“Okay, now we need 1/2 cups of sugar,” Dolores said.

Isabela nodded, scooping the cup into the bag of sugar and dropping it straight into the mixing bowl. Looking a little proud of herself for not spilling as much over the side this time, something she had done for many of the previous ingredients.

“What’s next—”

“What the hell was that?”

The pair turned to Luisa, stood on Isabela’s other side, who was looking down her nose at the bowl.

“The sugar going in the bowl?” Isabela said.

“You just dumped it in.” Luisa responded.

“I put it in the bowl. There’s no official way of putting something in a bowl,” Isabela dismissed.

Luisa blinked. “Take it out and do it again.”

“It’s not going to make a difference. It’s all going to be mixed together anyways.”

“Well then it’s going to taste like shit. And when the rest of our family tries your shit cake and realise it’s shit and they disown you—”

“It’s just sugar, Luisa,” Dolores interrupted. “We can’t take it out of the eggs now anyways, you’re going to have to deal with it.” Luisa went to say something, but Dolores continued, “Why don’t Isa and I switch places for a bit? That way you two can stop arguing.”

Luisa didn’t have a compliant, though Isabela looked offended at being demoted to only reading out the steps. The two swapped and Dolores turned expectantly to Isabela.

“We need 5 tbsp of melted butter,” she announced. “What is a tbsp?”

“A table spoon, you fucking idiot.”

“Luisa, it was a fair question. In fact, go stand in the corner for a minute and calm down,” Dolores said in irate, as she avoided the increasing urge to not toss the butter at her younger cousin. “Is that everything, Isa?”

Isabela nodded. “Yep. For now, anyways. Just needs to be mixed.”

“Okay, you can do that. I’ll clean this up.”

As Dolores went off to find some cleaning supplies, Isabela began mixing.

And mixing. And mixing. And mixing. And mix— why did anyone do this? This was boring as fuck.

It was mixed by now, right? The recipe said something about crumbs next.

Isabela looked unsurely about her.

She glanced over to where Luisa was stood in the corner, who had decided to busy herself by fixing the recipe book shelf a bit.

“It says to add in the crumbs once it’s all mixed, and it is, but I don’t see any crumbs here,” she said. “Luisa? Can you get the crumbs for me?”

“Um, are you giving me orders?” Luisa coughed.

Knowing that it wouldn’t end well if she agreed, Isabela begrudgingly had to to deny that claim. Through gritted teeth, she only just managed to slowly answer, “No, I’m asking for… your… eh, help.. in the kitchen.”

“Then ask properly.”

“Can you… please help…. me with this cake, Luisa?”

“Call me ‘chef’.”

Isabela kicked a cabinet in frustration, only for Casita to smack it right back into her. She winced, and then realising she didn’t really have a choice, gave in.

“Fine. Can you help me with this cake, Chef?”

Finally satisfied, Luisa walked over, setting down a small bowl of cake crumbs - when did she make that? Isabela wasn’t sure, she didn’t really care enough to ask either.

“You’re pouring it at an angle,” Luisa complained, as she glared at Isabela whilst she added in the crumbs.

“That’s how pouring works.” Isabela said in disbelief.

“Its too big an angle. You need to do it at a smaller angle. Or else it will be too lumpy and everyone will choke eating it.”

Again, wanting to avoid an argument, Isabela had to give into Luisa’s ridiculous demands. Isabela tipped the bowl less, rolling her eyes at the fact pouring was now going to take infinitely longer this way.

“What the hell are you doing?” Luisa snapped. “Now it’s not angled enough.”

Isabela tipped the bowl ever so slightly forward.

Luisa slammed her hand against the counter, causing Isabela to drop the bowl in its entirety. “Listen, Isabela, if you want to kill our sister, just use one of your poisonous plants, instead of ruining my cake and kitchen in the process!”

“What?” Isabela was struggling to process. “What are you talking about?”

“You are so fucking shit at cooking you are going to murder a child!”

“I’m pouring cake crumbs into a bowl, Luisa!”

“It’s ‘chef’ to you! And you’re doing it fucking wrong! Cook properly or get the fuck out of my kitchen!”

“Seriously, I can’t believe you think you don’t angry cook. You are completely insane to be in a kitchen with with! I’m leaving.”

“Fine, quit. I don’t care. Just so you know, it was your selfish and lazy ass that couldn't be bothered helping doing one nice thing for my sister! Your only skill and quality is being pretty and the eldest, the latter you aren’t even good at! Camilo is more mature than you are! This is why nobody in this family loves you! I feel sorry for whoever has to share a family with such a bitch-ass motherfucker you are!”

“Bitch, we are fucking related!”

“And it’s why Mama and Papa should have tossed you over the mountains the second you were born!”

“Oh my god, Luisa, what the hell is wrong with you?” Dolores demanded. Having dematerialised and separating the pair before anything violent could happen.

Luisa growled. “It’s ‘chef’! Neither of you are fit to be in my kitchen! Get out!”

Dolores muttered under her breath, but nevertheless did start walking toward the door. Isabela let her cousin guide her out. She was angry herself, and admittedly a little hurt by how brutal Luisa had been, but also found the situation humorous.

Especially as Luisa threw a bag of flour at the wall above them, when they clearly hadn’t left quick enough for Luisa’s liking, which instantly burst and covered everything in the powder.

“Get out of my fucking kitchen! You two will never cook a fucking thing for anyone again!”

~~~~~~

“Isabela! Quit hogging the bathroom, I also need to get the flour out of my hair.” Dolores said as she knocked on the bathroom door for what felt like the millionth time.

It had been almost an hour since the pair were kicked out of the kitchen.

Most of which Isabela had spent in the bathroom. While Dolores had been left outside, unable to do anything without spreading the flour around Casita and having to endure Luisa still screaming in the kitchen.

As if on cue, there was another roar from the kitchen. “COOK!” Luisa screamed, smacking a palm against the stove. “WHY DOES IT TAKE SO LONG?! IT’S NOT EVEN THAT DIFFICULT, COOK! JUST FUCKING COOK!”

The listener sagged against the door and sighed. She had such a headache.

She did consider dragging Mirabel out of school in the hopes that she might get Luisa to calm down. But, she knew her younger cousin would be stubborn and refuse to abandon her studies for a kitchen argument.

Finally, probably another hour later, the bathroom door opened.

“What were you doing in there? It doesn’t take that long to wash your…” Dolores paused, she eyed her older cousin skeptically. Then softened, “Isabela, were you crying?”

“Of course not. I couldn’t care less what she has to say about me.”

“It’s okay, if you do feel upset about it.”

“Well, I don’t! Have your shower, Dolores.”

Dolores hesitated for a moment. And as much as she wanted to clean her hair and let the running water drown out Luisa and relax herself first, she pulled Isabela into a hug.

“You aren’t only a pretty face, Isabela—”

“Obviously, I’m gorgeous all over,” Isabela scoffed. “You think that’s what I was upset about? Pft, no. I’m talented as all hell. I’m upset because she still seems to think I’m some monster, who would hurt Mirabel given the chance. She doesn’t act that way for anyone else. Just me. Why? What did I do to her?”

“It’s more what you did to Mirabel than Luisa.”

“I know! But I wasn’t the only one who treated her like shit! You don’t see Luisa threatening Abuela.”

“Part of it is just Luisa being angry, you know what she’s like in the kitchen.” Dolores explained, looking up at Isabela. “And you know Luisa has always been protective over your sister, she was the only one who fought against putting Mirabel up for adoption and she was barely five.” She sighed, taking a step back, but Isabela kept hugging. “I know it’s hard for you, but you’ll prove her wrong one day. You do love a challenge.”

There was a mumble of agreement.

Just as they separated and Dolores was going to get her moment of peace, there was a thunder of footsteps.

Recognising who the footsteps belonged to, Dolores turned back around and was ready to disregard whatever the young woman was about to say. Maybe even drag her for her actions.

But Luisa was fully calmed down, smiling. She was carrying two mugs of caffe con leche and one black tea. As if nothing had happened between the trio.

“The cake’s done!” She sang, beaming. “It’s cooling on top of the stove - we can try some in a bit to see if the recipe can be fixed. Thanks for all your help. I made these for you.” She offered the respective mugs to their owners.

Dolores and Isabela looked baffled.

“The fuck?” Isabela muttered. Though she did take her coffee, she did sniff for any traces of poison.

“Do you have anything to say, Luisa?” Dolores demanded, raising an eyebrow.

“About what?”

“About you being completely out of control in the kitchen?”

Luisa looked baffled. “Are you still on about the angry baking thing? I still don’t know what you’re talking about. Sure, I’m passionate, but I wouldn’t say angry.”

Dolores raised her eyebrow even higher. As did Isabela. Under both their gazes, Luisa did seem to falter a bit.

The three of them were all very confident and struggled to swallow their pride in situations, so making one another give in was always difficult. Usually Luisa, not only as the youngest, but also wasn’t as close to either Dolores or Isabela as they were to each other.

“Okay. Even if I still don’t think I was,” Luisa said, earning a harder glare from them both. “I am sorry if I said and/or did anything to make you feel bad. Thank you for trying to put up with me and do this for Mirabel.”

Dolores tutted. “Good, but if you think we are cooking with you again, you are sorely mistaken.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

Luisa handed Dolores her tea before heading into her own room, with a promise to cool down further before they met up again to try the cake.

Tea would be the cherry on top of the cake now that she fully had the bathroom to herself. She might even take a long bath, possibly use those new bath salts Mariano had gotten for her recently. If she didn’t, she could easily imagine someone else using them all.

Isabela began heading off to her room, and just as Dolores’ hand enclosed the bathroom door, she heard another set of footsteps come barrelling right by her and into her cousin’s back.

“Hey, Camilo! I haven’t seen you all day—” Isabela started. She was interrupted by Camilo jumping behind her. “Are you okay, primito? You’re looking a little sweaty. Really sweaty and red. Wait, I thought you were just pretending to be sick to avoid that history test, are you really not well?”

“Shush! Please, Isabela! You have to hide me!” He whined.

“Why?”

Camilo sighed, “I was hungry, okay? I hadn’t eaten anything all day! So I went down to the kitchen for a snack. But I couldn’t go in the kitchen until Luisa calmed down. Finally, she did and went to grab a cup of coffee for herself after taking the cake from the stove, so I went in.” He swallowed, glancing around. “And, well, I ate the cake Luisa had made. The entire thing. Fresh from the stove. There’s nothing left.”

Dolores groaned in frustration and sagged against the door. Looks like she wouldn’t be relaxing today.

#encanto #ask me anything #my writing #luisa madrigal #isabela madrigal #dolores madrigal #mirabel madrigal #camilo madrigal #julieta madrigal

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allthingsencanto · 2 years

Note

Don’t get me wrong, I DEFINITELY like your answer to my last question-binge. I especially like how you analyzed the relationship between Pepa and Isabela. Though for my second question, I was looking for more DETAIL. Like what YOU think would happen with each family member. I suppose it’s on me for not clarifying, though it’s also fine if you don’t want to do it though

It’s okay! I usually don’t do these things, but I can try! 💕

How I think the Madrigals would react to getting sick:

Mirabel: Obviously, she wouldn’t be in a good mood. I picture she’s one of those people who get sick and are really bummed out because they desperately want to do something. She would also probably be upset that she can’t sew, unless she were able to sit up and do it in her bed.

Isabela: I’d like to think that when she’s sick, her flowers and cactuses and all are wary, perhaps they rot. She would definitely stay in her room all day, cause she knows beauty rest is important, even if she’s upset.

Luisa: It would probably be a CHORE to convince her to get some rest lol. She’s so used to working all the time that when she needs to relax, she can’t, so I definitely picture her saying she’s fine over and over again, even when she’s not and needs to lay down. She would definitely get frustrated and emotional because of that.

Agustín: By how accident prone he is, I only assume this man gets sick on a daily basis lol. He’d probably be the one to rest without hesitation, but I picture him trying to help others when he should be relaxing. Julieta of course would be the one to take care of him, plus scolding him to stay put.

Julieta: When she’s sick, she would probably make something to make herself feel better, and then rest. Agustín would be by her side and help 24/7, because he’s the goat, he would definitely cheer his wife up when she’s feeling unwell.

Pepa: Definitely a bunch of snow and rain from her power lol, she would not be in the best mood, upset and maybe grumpy. We all know that Félix and Camilo would be there for her, bringing her things and helping her as much as they can.

Félix: Probably would be upset since he can’t be the life of the party when he’s not feeling well, but he probably wouldn’t pay it too much mind, he would look on the bright side and know he’ll get better soon.

Camilo: Would definitely be pissed and upset lol, he’d be the one to go “oh my god staying in bed all day is so dang BORING!” but he would have no choice lol. His mother would scold him to rest, and also would probably be very protective and give him lots of things he doesn’t need. Antonio would definitely cheer him up and entertain him with his animals tho! Also I see him accidentally shapeshifting whenever he coughs or sneezes.

Dolores: She’s probably EXTRA sensitive to noises when she’s sick, so she would not be in the best mood and would want to sleep all day. The madrigals would definitely be extra quiet!

Antonio: His animals would definitely be worried for him, and comfort him all the while. He wouldn’t be happy of course that he’s sick, but his animals would make him feel better, as well as Camilo and Mirabel cheering him up!

Bruno: Like I’ve seen in a few fan comics, I feel like his eyes would go green, and he would sweat, feeling uneasy and all. He would rest, taking a lot of naps and just trying to ease himself.

Alma: I feel like similar to Luisa, she would want to convince herself she’s fine, and capable of doing what she needs to do. Of course though, the family would tell her to relax, as they take care of her. Alma would definitely be thankful for her kind family looking after her!

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kimmyluvg · 2 years

Text

Camilo-kun to Y/N-san

2: Y/N L/N

Summary: Camilo Madrigal, the popular guy in Encanto High who is actually like a House Husband at home meets introverted girl, Y/N L/N who is an E-Girl…They fell, but will they notice?

This part will cover Y/N’s introduction to Camilo and his brother, Antonio.

The next few days went by and it is the weekend. Camilo, as usual, is doing chores in the house. He lifted a basket of dirty laundry from each family member’s room and came down stairs to the washing room where the washing machine and dryer are kept. Camilo wiped his sweat using his arm as he took the last basket of dirty clothing, from Antonio’s room, “Damn! Why does Toñito always have this much laundry?!” Camilo complains as he carefully seperate the whites and the colored clothes and make them wash in two separate washings. As he was about to start wash the clothes, the doorbell rings. Camilo blinked, wondering who that was. He goes to the door and opens it to see Antonio and his bleeding nose… Wait bleeding?! “Antonio?! ¿Qué ha pasado?” Camilo said as he took a towel from his pocket and wiped Antonio’s nose, “Lo siento, hermano.” Antonio said as his nose got wiped. Then Camilo notices a girl behind Antonio… The girl wears a freakishly amount of black on her clothing and accessories, though Camilo find her clothing style cute. Then it hit him… He simply ignored the girl’s presence earlier, “Oh! Uh… Sorry, I didn’t see you there! Uh…” Camilo said as the girl just smiles, “Oh, It’s alright. He was playing by the park when he tripped. I happened to be there and took him here.” The girl said with a soft smile. She then said her goodbyes to Camilo and turned to leave but was stopped by Antonio, gripping the frills of her skirt. This made Camilo an opening to thank the girl for bringing Antonio back home, “W-Would you like something to drink?” Camilo asked the girl who just blinked.

In the end, the girl couldn’t resist Camilo’s invitation and stayed for just a cup of tea. Camilo came back with two cups of tea and a chocolate drink for Antonio, he then saw the girl and Antonio talking, getting along. He sat down next to Antonio, in front of the girl, “Cami, guess what! She knows how to play the piano!” Antonio said as he took a big sip of his drink that it almost spill in front of him. “Ay, careful hermano! It almost spilled over.” Camilo said as the girl chuckled slightly. This made Camilo turn to the girl, who was smiling, “I didn’t knew that Camilo Madrigal would be like this.” The girl commented as Camilo’s expression became really confused. How did this girl know him? “How do you know me? Do we go to the same school?” Camilo asked making the girl blink. “Yeah, we’re in the same class too.” The girl answered then pointed to herself, “I’m Y/N L/N.” The girl said as Camilo started to piece by piece the puzzle together. His eyes widen as he saw Y/N’s eyes. “Eh…. HUH?!?!”

•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•

‘How… How are they the same person?!?!’ Camilo thought as he laid his head over his desk, staring at Y/N in her usual school hairstyle, looking at the window… Daydreaming again. Camilo squinted his eyes, still confused and still baffled by the discovery of Y/N’s double life. “Oi, Camilo… You’re making that weird face… You alright?” Mirabel said making sure that her cousin isn’t sick or anything. But he didn’t listen, instead… He just stood up and speed walked towards to Y/N’s seat. Y/N didn’t noticed this until Camilo tapped her shoulder, making the H/C girl turn around and saw Camilo scratching the back of his head. Y/N sensed that their classmates are staring at them as Camilo coughed, making them mind their own business now, “Uh… L/N… We need to talk…” Camilo said as Y/N tilted her head in confusion.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“You wanted me to come by again?” Y/N asked as Camilo leaned over the wall next to a window and nodded before looking away, “W-Well it’s only because Toñito wanted to talk to you again.” Camilo said as he scratches his face, still looking way from her. ‘Damn it! Why am I nervous around her?!’ He thought as he didn’t notice that his cheeks are red and the tips of his ears are slowly changing into color. “Really? T-Then I’ll let him borrow my animal book next time.” Y/N said making Camilo sigh slowly before turning ti the window, “It’s alright, L/N. You don’t have to do that.” Camilo said then a sigh in relief came out off his system. “Ah.. This is great…Toñito’s going to be so happy.” Camilo said making Y/N smile a bit.

“I’m surprised…” Y/N said making Camilo turn to her, “Why?” Camilo asked, “I didn’t expect you to come and talk to me because of what happened yesterday.. I thought, you would avoud me for sure.” Y/N said as it made Camilo think. Was she treated like a weirdly because of the way she handles her wardrobe? Or was it because they can’t really understand her choice of clothing? These thoughts circled around Camilo’s brain as he opens his mouth, “I wouldn’t do such a thing.” Camilo said, surpirsing Y/N. Camilo faces the window, “I mean, it’s kind of awkward indeed. I was taken by surprise too… You looked completely different from when you are at school, but I’m the same as well.” Camilo explained as he fantasize the reactions of people around him once they knew that he manages the house like a butler. “Personally, that’s not a reason avoid you-“ Camilo said then turned to see Y/N, who is now blushing from embarrassment. Camilo was taken by surprise and blushes slightly, ‘Cute…’ Camilo thought of the single word he would describe Y/N state right now. “D-Did I offended you? Or something…” Camilo slightly panicked as Y/N waved her hands, “Ahh! S-Sorry, I’m not really used to this so it’s a little embarrassing for me.” Y/N said as Camilo sigh in relief. “Thank you.” Y/N said as Camilo noticed her smile… It’s so gentle and yet genuine and adorable. He wanted to compliment her smile yet somehow this man just kept a straight face in front of this girl, “What’s the matter?” Y/N asked, making Camilo realize that he was staring at her too long. He blinked, “So this is how you look when you smile…” Camilo said as he now tells her about the things that made her look pretty like, “You should smile more… It suits you.” Camilo smiles as Y/N blinked then looked away blushing.

And thus a new friendship was born!!

#camilo madrigal #camilo x reader #camilo madrigal x reader #camilo my beloved #camilo x y/n #camilo x you #camilo imagine

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wikluk · 2 years

Note

Play the part?? Slight twist on the movie, Mira finds out about Isabela's problems sooner, and, being Mira, she wants to help??

Going by your preemie!Mira hc, when she's sick, she's sick. So she knows in turn how to act sick and make in convincing. She does so, so all attention will be on her and Isa can go destroy her perfect image for an hour or two :D

play the part: [character] pretends to be sick – Mirabel (+ Isabela)

the secrets that you keep are ever ready

Mirabel couldn't believe it.

Her sister, her older sister, Señorita Perfecta Isabela, had a secret. She didn’t want to get married. She didn’t want to marry Mariano, yet she never told anything. Not Abuela, not their parents, not even Luisa.

Mirabel wondered if Dolores knew; after all, Dolores knew everything.

But the youngest Madrigal sister couldn’t believe she found out about it only because the rats told Antonio, and Antonio told her, and she swore him to keep it a secret, and she planned or doing something.

Maybe if she rescued Isabela from that awful situation she was in, their relationship would get better. Maybe it would help the Miracle, maybe it would save the magic.

Then her Papi found her in the nursery and saw the vision, and she was that close to telling him everything, but Abuela announced the dinner was ready and it meant the Guzmáns were there and there was no time.

So Mirabel decided to improvise. Always of weaker health and with a tendency to get sick quickly and easily, often pretty bad, Mirabel knew how to act when the need was. Sometimes, when she didn’t want to go to school, she’d pretend she was sick, and she felt bad for worrying her mamá so, but being born prematurely had some benefits.

As they sat down at the table, Dolores was staring at her, and Mirabel was staring back. Well, it was awkward, and as Dolores was close to breaking, Mirabel knew, she had no more time.

She coughed.

Dolores blinked, and Camilo looked at her as well, one eyebrow raised.

Mirabel grabbed the glass with juice and took a sip, immediately afterwards bursting into a fit of coughs.

Now, people were looking her way, and Dolores tilted her head, still staring.

“Are you alright, Mirabel?” Mariano asked.

It made Isabela turn her head as well. “Yes, are you alright?” she asked, though there was suspicion clear in her dark, barely narrowed eyes.

“Yeah, of course–” Mirabel wheezed, putting her hand on her chest. “It’s just–” she coughed deeply, to the point it sounded almost like a whistle. “Just a cough!”

Mamá looked at her with both eyebrows pinched together in concern. “Are you sick?”

“No, no,” Mirabel waved her hand absentmindedly. “It’s just... Something in the air...”

“Your eyes are glossy,” Dolores squeaked out quietly, the grip she had on her wine glass losening a little.

“Yeah? I don’t feel anything...”

She started thinking about the most embarrassing things she had ever witnessed in her life. She remembered tripping over her own feet and diving head-first into the fountain in front of the villagers. She remembered walking in on her completely naked tía Pepa in the bathroom. She remembered walking in on her parents doing... Stuff... When she was twelve–

And she knew her face got dark as a beetroot.

“Mi amor, you’re flushed,” her papá touched her forehead with the back of his hand. “Ay, you’re so warm!”

Mamá was by her side in a few seconds. “Ay mi vida, not this again,” she said, cupping her face with a worried frown on her face. “I think you’re running a fever!”

Mirabel shook her head, sniffling for a better effect. “That’s nonsense, mamá, I’m–” she burst into another fit of very convincing coughs. “I’m fine!”

“No, you’re not,” her mamá said firmly.

“I am! Oh, come on, I don’t wanna ruin Isabela’s perfect proposal dinner–”

Mirabel was almost sure she could hear Isabela gritting her teeth on her right.

Dolores squeaked again, her gaze flickering between Isabela and Mirabel, her eyebrows raised in confusion.

Mirabel was actually shocked when she felt a hand gripping her forearm. She moved her head to stare at Isabela who pursed her lips at her before turning her head towards the matriarch.

“Abuela, I think I should take Mirabel to my room,” she said in a calm, velvety tone, though her fingers dig into Mirabel’s arm. “She needs her rest.”

Before Abuela could answer, Mariano supported her on that. “Oh yes, the family member’s health should always come first!” he said, giving Isabela a dreamy, soft smile. “You’re such a good hermana, Isabela.”

Isabela smiled at him, patting Mirabel’s hand. “She’s the baby,” she said in a sweet tone, making Mirabel scowl. “It’s my duty as her older sister to take care of my youngest hermanita.”

Señora Guzmán gushed at it. “Oh, it’s amazing to see how close and caring all the Madrigals are!” she exclaimed and clapped her hands. “I’m sure we can postpone this dinner to when Mirabel is healthy and can take a part in this beautiful event, right, Alma?”

Abuela blinked, moving her gaze from both sisters to her friend. “Oh, of course, Andrea! One week won’t make that big of a difference, will it?”

“Of course not,” señora Guzmán said with a breathy laugh. “Love is very patient, isn’t it?”

It brought some chuckles from all the married (or formerly married, in Abuela’s case) Madrigals.

“Claro,” Abuela said with a smile, then looked at Mirabel, Isabela and mamá. “Julieta, Isabela, take Mirabel upstairs, por favor.”

And that was how all three of them found themselves in Isabela’s room, in her room full of flowers from the bottom to the top, so pink, and purple, and violet, and perfect, it was almost sickening.

Even mamá, to Mirabel’s smirk, looked a little overwhelmed by all the pastels as she glanced around.

Soon after Mirabel was placed on the bed Isabela created for her, and mamá left them, with a promise that she would return shortly with some medication for Mirabel, to make her feel better.

She barely closed the door, when Isabela put both hands on her hips with a scowl. “What was that?!”

Mirabel smiled innocently. “What was what?” she asked, coughing weakly. “I have no–”

“You’re not sick!” Isabela accused her. “Even you wouldn’t be able to get sick this quick!”

“You know I always was prone to sicknesses!”

Isabela’s gaze hardened as she tapped her foot impatiently.

Mirabel rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m not,” she said, sitting up and crossing her arms over her chest. “But I think you should be grateful because I just saved your ass!”

“Grateful?! For what? For ruining my life?!”

“I didn’t ruin your life!”

“You did! Mariano was going to propose to me, and Abuela was happy, and the familia was happy, everyone was happy but–”

“–you weren’t happy. You’re not happy.”

“What–”

“I know you don’t wanna marry this big dumb hunk.”

Isabela blinked rapidly, her eyes going wide. “What?”

“That!” Mirabel growled in frustration. “Antonio told me because his rats told him that they had heard you ranting to yourself last night about how you didn’t want to get married.”

“I–”

“You don’t love him, do you?”

Isabela was silent.

“You don’t even like him.”

Isabela shook her head. “I do like him. We’ve been friends since we were kids but...”

“You don’t wanna to be his wife.”

Isabela avoided her gaze. “No, I don’t.”

Mirabel shifted to the edge of the bed and jumped out of it, walking closer to her sister. “Then why did you agree to court him?”

Her older sister sighed. “It was Abuela’s idea and I...”

Mirabel felt enlightened all of a sudden. “You wanted to make Abuela proud.”

Isabela nodded.

Mirabel fell on her back on the mattress. “Wow,” she muttered, staring at the ceiling. “Who would think we had so much in common?”

“Oh, do we?”

“Yeah... We’ve always done everything to make Abuela proud.”

“Yeah...” Isabela agreed, and her tone suddenly got so soft, so friendly. “Yeah, I guess we have much in common.”

Before Mirabel could answer, half of their family burst through the door. Mamá and papá hurried her way with Luisa hot on their heels.

“Mirabel? Why aren’t you under the covers?”

Isabela groaned. “She’s not sick, mamá.”

“She’s not–” mamá repeated, clearly confused. “Please, someone tell me what’s going on because I think I don’t understand...”

Isabela opened her mouth to answer but Mirabel threw her arms in the air and looked at her parents with the most annoyed expression. "I pretended to be sick and I did it for her!”

“Mirabel don’t–”

Papá looked between them. “For her? Whatever you mean?”

Mirabel took a deep breath. “Isa doesn't want to marry Mariano."

The hell broke loose.

#wiktoria's fanfiction corner #encanto fanfic #my writing #my sickfics #mirabel madrigal #isabela madrigal #dolores madrigal #alma madrigal #senora guzman #mariano guzman #julieta madrigal #agustin madrigal #sickfic #mirabel is good at pretending #preemie mirabel #family fluff #humour and crack #sisters being sisters #isabela and mirabel

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