I don't understand people who hate Alma because imagine that in one (1) day you:
give birth to triplets (that should be enough)
are forced to flee your home (way more than enough)
are forced to walk for God knows how long (after having just given birth??? to fucking triplets???????)
have to watch your husband get murdered to save your family
I repeat, have to watch your husband whom you love SO dearly DIE a brutal death
this also means seeing the beginning of a war that's going to last three years btw
and it also means raising three children on your own with no family to back you up and no previous experience
get elected mayor of a town that just appeared out of thin air
man, if I have to leave the house I feel like crying, doesn't this woman deserve a fucking break???
and she also still finds the strength to smile and wave at Casita
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"Pepa!" Bruno's voice was hushed, urgent, eyes wide. "I foresee great pain in your future!"
"Really?" Pepa asked worriedly. "Did you see when? How? What-"
Bruno kicked her in the shin and immediately ran for it.
"OW!"
"See, I was right!" Bruno called over his shoulder to her, only to be followed by a yelp, which was accompanied by the smell of singed hair as a lightning flash blinded the three of them.
A clap of thunder was almost, but not quite, loud enough to drown out Julieta's shout of "I'm not giving you two any more cookies! Not again!"
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Habits (GN!Reader)
You can decide who this is with. Agatha, Pepa, Julieta, Carla, Ajak, Alma, any woman on my masterlist.
Idea taken from "Costumbres" by Rocío Dúrcal.
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You saw her walk away down the empty street, hidden in the night. The sound of her footsteps faded after a few seconds and her silhouette melted into the darkness a few moments later, just like the fleeting feeling of belonging inside you.
It was always like that, no matter how much you told yourself that it was wrong, that you shouldn't go through with it, that you needed to let her go, no matter how much you swore it would be the last time, it never was. She always came back.
Sometimes she would take days, other times weeks, but never more than a month. Even she couldn't stay away that long, and you couldn't let yourself forget about her either, though not for a lack of trying.
You had a strange relationship. You had loved her, perhaps more than you would ever admit aloud, and she had loved you back, perhaps less than her voice swore, but time kept on dancing on the clock and fate rearranged the pieces, and in that chaos, you realized that you did not fit in with her, that you did not belong by her side.
It was painful to realize it, but deep down, you knew what had to happen. The day she left, the black clouds swirled above your house, as if they could sense your own mood, and yet you managed to smile at her, wish her well, and not call out her name as she was lost in the sea of people.
You spent the first day locked in your room, in the chair or the dressing table, but never in your bed, you couldn't, not when her perfume was still there. By the third you learned to breathe again. On the fifth your feet woke up, on the twelfth you reconciled with sleep, on the fifteenth you recovered the taste for your favorite dishes, on the twentieth you smiled again. And at fiftieth...
On the fiftieth, she came back.
You wish you could say you weren't expecting her, you really wanted to say she had taken you by surprise. But it was not like that. There were no whispered apologies, no warm hugs, no secret smiles, not even that spark that had brought you together in the first place, nothing. Just...she was there. It was a fact, cold and raw, nothing more.
A weak, quick "hello" was all it took for the dance you were now dancing, and had been doing for the past five years, to begin.
It was strange, you didn't know anything about her, about her life, if there was someone you were betraying by receiving her when her most carnal passions needed you, but you didn't care much either.
You missed her, you always missed her, and no matter how much she denied it, you knew she couldn't forget you either, no matter how hard she tried. She was always going to come back, over and over, and over again. Even if she didn't feel any more love for you, just a grudge.
Neither did you if you were honest. You no longer had anything to feel for her, and that was worse.
But you missed her, you missed her so much. You missed not feeling alone, the warmth of sharing a bed with someone, of feeling someone else's skin on yours, of hearing happiness flowing from the lips attached to yours. It didn't matter that the illusion lasted a few hours before she was gone again. It was fine, she would come back, she always did.
"There is no doubt, it is true that habit is stronger than love" you whispered before closing the window and going back to bed.
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The sea was wet as wet could be, the sands were dry as dry. You could not see a cloud because no cloud was in the sky.
The Walrus and the Carpenter were walking close at hand; they wept like anything to see such quantities of sand: 'If this were only cleared away,' they said, 'it would be grand!'
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You guys, I'm really proud of this one. I worked real hard on the shadows 💚 I learned so much.
Excerpt is from The Walrus and the Carpenter by Lewis Carroll. I like to think that kid Pepa would like the part about the clouds, and kid Bruno would like the part about the sand. Pepa does NOT like the part about the oysters. Julieta is overworked and indifferent.
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A silly lil sketch of an AU idea I’ve had bouncing around in my head all summer
In which the boys are separated from the girls and so Pepa and Julieta grow up in the Encanto with Alma, and Pedro raises Bruno in a riverside village. A mysterious vision from Bruno guides the boys to the Encanto when the triplets are 15. Crazy family dynamics ensue.
Kinda a combo of the Pedro lives AU and the Anastasia AU (my two absolute favorites)
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