The aftermath of Mirabel’s disastrous birthday celebration. Julieta is a mess and still has to heal her own wound. 1248 words.
Warning: pain, suffering, demon-inflicted wound.
…
If Alma were to listen to her motherly instincts, she’d have brought her daughter a bottle of the strongest tequila. Unfortunately, their circumstances did not allow for this simple mercy. Julieta’s wound needed healing sooner rather than later. Thus, Julieta had to maintain a clear mind. For this reason, when Alma entered her daughter’s bedroom, she was holding a cup of yerba mate.
Julieta was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her back resting against her bed. She looked completely exhausted, with blood-shot eyes and trembling lips. Her husband Agustín was sitting next to her, concern painted on his face. Between them stood a bowl of water – cold, Alma assumed, for cooling down the wound. She observed that Julieta’s right sleeve had been cut off, exposing the blistered forearm. The ugly, red reminder of the battle they had fought.
She had used all her energy to save Pedro. There was too little of it left to ease her own suffering.
Without a word, Alma handed her daughter the cup. Julieta accepted it with resignation and begun to sip the liquid. She wasn’t a fan of yerba mate – the taste wasn’t to her liking. Still, she drank it all her life for its nutritious properties. Whenever she needed an energy boost, this was what she turned to. Fuel didn’t have to taste good. Still, seeing how reluctantly Julieta consumed it, Alma felt her heart break over and over again.
A couple of sips later, Julieta tried to speak. “How is papá?”
“Asleep,” said Alma.
“And the children?”
“Pepa and Félix have them all in Isabela and Dolores’ bedroom.” She hesitated before continuing. “Mirabel is with Bruno. In his room.”
Mirabel. Julieta’s youngest child. The one who got possessed by the demon. In a turn of events so shocking and earth-shattering they never would have thought possible. How did it happen and why, none of them knew. The pain was so fresh, so unfair, so gut-wrenching. Even more so for Julieta, who still bore the horrible marking on her own limb.
Hearing her daughter’s name, Julieta deflated even more. Her jaws tightened and new moisture glimmered in her eyes. She had failed to protect her child. She had been so helpless. She just got herself wounded and her other children had to watch it happen.
Realizing what was going on in her daughter’s mind, Alma tried to distract her. “Is there anything you need? Anything to eat or drink?”
Julieta denied with a slight motion of her head.
“Are you going to be able to heal yourself?” Alma continued gently.
Julieta took a moment to swallow. “Not entirely,” she whispered in a strained voice. “Not right away,” she paused, running her eyes over the massacred forearm. The sight was discouraging. So much tissue to fix. So many blood vessels. So many nerves. The wounded woman shut her eyes, unable to take it all in. “I have to start, at least. It can’t wait any longer,” she almost wailed.
Alma nodded in grim acknowledgement. “Do you need Pepa? Or Bruno?”
The Madrigal triplets had a special bond that allowed them to borrow one another’s spiritual energy. Considering Julieta’s state, she could use a donor or two. The person of interest seemed to acknowledge this fact. “Get Bruno,” she requested.
Thus Alma went to get Bruno.
Julieta returned to sipping yerba mate.
Agustín placed his hand on his wife’s lap in a gesture of reassurance. He hated that there was nothing he could do to help her. He hated that she’ll have to endure excruciating pain, on top of everything she’d gone through already. She could numb herself a little bit, perhaps, but not entirely. She had to know which tissues to stimulate and how intensively. Therefore, she had to feel her body’s reactions. Words couldn’t describe the injustice of this situation. Nor make it any easier to endure for Julieta. Literally, the only thing Agustín could do was to be there for her.
At least in this respect, he wouldn’t disappoint.
“Once this is over,” he whispered softly, “you will be free to cry yourself to sleep in my arms. I am going to hold you and I am going to rub your back. For as long as you need, I am going to hold you.”
Julieta’s eyes were welling up, but the faintest smile pulled at her lips. That smile told Agustín everything he needed to know. His wife was looking forward to the services he promised her. She was going to need them, and badly so, once the ordeal is over.
He was bent on staying with her for every frightening second.
(…)
Some preparations had to be made beforehand. The bowl of cold water was displaced in favor of a stool. Agustín had to move to Julieta’s other side, so that Bruno could perform his duty as her donor. Spiritual energy was transmitted through physical touch. Bruno assumed he’d hold his hand on Julieta’s shoulder, but his sister explained he’d have to hold her arm in place. For one thing, she needed to receive his donation as close to the affected area as possible. Also, more importantly, she wouldn’t have enough self-control to stay still. Bruno obeyed, even thought acting as a human vice to his sister’s exposed, sensitive flesh was making his skin crawl. He did not want to cause her pain. Goodness gracious, she winced when he touched her.
‘Get a grip,’ he told himself. ‘You’ve no right to complain. She’s the one suffering.’
Out loud, he said: “Drain me as much as you need to.”
She gave him the faintest nod.
Alma found it fitting to ask one last question. “Is there anything else you need?”
Julieta hesitated. “A piece of leather.”
The item was provided to her with the aura of guilt.
Julieta put it into her mouth. She closed her eyes. Took a couple calming breaths. Finally, she lifted her healthy hand and bent the ring and pinky finger in a gesture that aided her concentration.
Right away Bruno was forced to tighten his grip on her arm, as she tried to jerk it away. Blue glow covered the affected limb. Julieta’s jaw clenched and sweat beads sprung from her skin. Bruno pushed away unwanted thought and focused on channeling his energy. Green glow poured from his hands onto Julieta’s forearm. Blisters bulged and exploded with a hiss. Scent of burning flesh assaulted nostrils. Julieta bit down hard on the leather. Swelling smoothed down. Red receded in favor of pink, pink receded in favor of white. Bruno held on relentlessly as Julieta’s fingers stretched and bent. Alma and Agustín watched with hearts in their throats. Julieta’s veins pulsed, sweat stained her clothes. The leather in her mouth crinkled.
Finally, the glow died out. Julieta spat out the leather and panted heavily. Bruno let go of her arm. The ugly wound was replaced with an extensive scar. It had rough edges and an uneven surface. It wasn’t the ideal outcome, but it would have to do.
Agustín knelt by his wife and kissed her temple. “You did great, querida.”
Alma handed her a cup. This one contained poppy milk. Julieta drank it greedily. It was over. She closed the wound. She made sure it wouldn’t fester. Tears of exhaustion and relief flowed freely from her eyes.
Alma and Bruno discreetly exited the room, knowing they were leaving their daughter and sister in the most competent hands.
That, and their tasks for the night weren’t completed.
Sequel to “Birthday kisses”. The Madrigal triplets are turning 40 and decide to trick their father into giving them extra kisses. Pedro is alive in this AU, because he was possessed by a spirit rather than killed, which lead to his family becoming shamans. 2796 words. Comedy and Family Fluff.
…
“Abre los ojos.”
Three pairs of eyes opened. Three faces lit up at the sight of three cakes. At the other side of the table, the family matriarch beamed like the sun itself, her glow illuminating the three granddaughters who stood beside her.
“You can be proud of the girls,” she declared, smiling down at the young chefs. “They did a wonderful job. I helped only a little bit.” She gave each child an affectionate pat on the shoulder.
On their part, the girls looked absolutely thrilled. They couldn’t wait to talk about their masterpieces and have the family praise them.
The youngest of the cooks, Luisa, piped up first. “This is tres leches con tres agrios,” she pointed at the yellowy sponge cake. “It’s still tres leches, but the milk mixture has juice from lemon, lime and orange. To make it more interesting.”
Since the 9-year-old mostly spoke in the direction of her own mother, it was her who felt compelled to respond – and did so with a smile. “Sounds very refreshing.”
12-year-old Dolores couldn’t wait another second to have the floor. “This is a new cake I’ve heard about,” she indicated the block consisting of brown and yellow layers. “Turron de Doña Pepa. When I’ve heard there was a cake with your name, I had to make it. There is anise and sesame in the dough, and in the filling there are apples and figs and cinnamon.”
Pepa, her mother, did her best to look appropriately touched – which wasn’t very hard to achieve, since her heart was genuinely melting like caramel syrup at the moment. “This is so sweet,” she managed through her emotionally loaded throat.
The last to make a presentation was Isabela, also 12 years old. Unlike her cousin and sister, she made sure to establish eye contact with all three adults whose birthday they were celebrating. She wanted all of them to feel appreciated and to appreciate her in return. “This, ladies and gentleman, is my own invention. Almond sponge, creamy cheese filling with a speck of dulce de leche and peanuts, cocoa sponge and whipped cream with assorted caramelized nuts,” she put her hands on her hips in a gesture of triumph. “All for your enjoyment and delight.”
The triplets were all nodding in approval. Isabela’s creation did look elegant and dignified. Even the caramelized nuts at the top looked like a golden crown.
Bruno decided to speak up for himself and his sisters. “Sounds like you put a heck load of work into that one, Isa.”
The girl tried to look modest, but she couldn’t quite contain her – admittedly justified – pride. “Oh, it was nothing. The hardest thing to do was to stay out of each other’s way when we baked.”
“It was fun!” exclaimed Luisa.
The triplets chuckled. They would have to thank their mother later for orchestrating all of this. Supervising production of three baking goods can’t have been easy.
The head of the family, Pedro Madrigal, appeared, carrying three candles. He placed a candle in front of each triplet and lit it with a flick of his fingers. Those who had been born as Madrigals recognized the orange glow that clung to his hand, channeling the energy needed for the trick. Pedro gave his spiritual amigo a pat and turned to his children. “Make a wish.”
The triplets took a moment to contemplate their respective flames and promptly blew them out. The rest of the family clapped. A chorus of ‘Congratulations!’ and ‘Happy birthday!’ ensued. The birthday girls and boy (if you could still call them that at 40 years of age) accepted the wishes with joy and gratitude. It was an amazing celebration with their amazing family. There was nothing more they could wish for that day.
Well, accept maybe this one little thing.
“Abuelo, aren’t you forgetting something?” Dolores asked Pedro, who was about to start cutting the cakes.
‘Oy yes’, the triplets thought, sending one another conspiratorial glances, ‘here it goes’.
“No, what?” said Pedro, blissfully unaware of the trap he was stepping into.
“You have to kiss them!” exclaimed Luisa, emerging right next to Dolores and pointing animatedly at her mother, aunt and uncle.
Pedro chuckled. “Oh, I already did…”
But Julieta, Pepa and Bruno had already stood up from their chairs and headed towards their father, sporting wicked grins.
“Now, come on,” said Pedro. “You already got your kisses.”
Bruno had the audacity to look surprised. “Really? I don’t remember anything like that.”
“Yeah, me neither,” Pepa chirped in.
“Same,” agreed Julieta.
“This morning?” Pedro supplied. “In the dining room? Rings a bell?”
The triplets looked at one another. Chins were thoughtfully touched, locks of hair thoughtfully tucked back, and shoulders unceremoniously shrugged.
“Nope,” concluded Julieta simply.
“Not at all,” agreed Pepa.
“First heard of it,” Bruno summed up.
Pedro quirked an eyebrow. “You know lying is a sin, don’t you?”
His daughters and son doubled down, speaking over each other in an intentional chaos.
“We’re not lying, Papa!”
“You didn’t kiss us! Not today!”
“Surely not me! I would have remembered!”
By now, Pedro realized he was being challenged. “Oh, so that’s the way you want it, huh?” he drew himself up, the flame of competition brightening his eyes. In a decisive move, he turned to his wife for backup. “Do you see that, Alma? Our kids are lying through their teeth!” he called out in mock indignation.
Alma responded with an equally over-the-top disbelief. “Oh no! My sweet Angelitos? This can’t be!”
Pedro snorted. “Angelitos? They’re diabolos! Any moment now, they’ll be growing horns!”
“Tails!” cried out the 4-year-old Camilo. “Grow tails!”
The triplets, meanwhile, were shamelessly unrepentant, with chests jutting out and complacency plastered all over their faces. They went as far as playfully elbow each other as they were being judged by their parents. Where did they learn to be so smug, Pedro wondered. He put his hands on his hips and lowered his eye-brows, but his words remained devoid of seriousness. “Last chance, niños. Come clean and I’ll forgive your outrageous behavior.”
“But we’re innocent!” argued Pepa.
“So innocent!” Julieta added.
Bruno pushed forward, pointing his face with both index fingers. “Are these the eyes of a liar?!”
Julieta and Pepa joined their brother in putting on their best puppy eyes, but endured it for about two seconds before breaking into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
Alma shook her head and turned to her husband. “You know what, Pedro? This has to be their worst performance yet.”
Pedro nodded readily. “It’s like they aren’t even trying. Who knew they’d get this lazy this young?”
Alma put on a thoughtful expression. “Maybe they think we’ve grown stupid in our old age and they no longer need to put in the effort into tricking us?” she offered in a lighthearted tone.
Pedro put his arms around her, beaming in admiration and cunningness. “This is most definitely the case, mi amada. And it most definitely calls for…” he moved his menacing glare onto the three siblings, “…a disciplinary action.”
Neither the words, not the glare seemed to have any effect on the triplets.
“Get down to it, old man,” Pepa challenged. “I have things to do.”
Bruno yawned provocatively.
Julieta widened her stance and cocked her head, daring Pedro to do his worst.
“Oh, you kids are in for a rude awakening,” declared the head of the family. It was time to invite more players into the game, he decided, moving his attention to the youngest generation. “Kids! What do you think is an appropriate punishment for lying?”
“Chancla them!” Camilo cried out, thrilled to have been asked for an opinion.
His same-aged cousin, Mirabel, was mortified at the suggestion. “No! Don’t chancla them! Chancla is bad!” she cried.
The boy appeared amused by her distress. “Spank them with a pillow!” he exclaimed enthusiastically.
Mirabel left her chair and hastily climber onto her father’s lap. “Papá, tell him something!”
“We’re pausing the game!” Pedro called out and hurried to his youngest granddaughter. “Mirabel, mi vida, there’s no need to be scared. I’m not actually angry at your mamá, tía and tío. This is just an innocent game and nobody is really in trouble. And though I call it a punishment, what I really mean is a silly task. A task they will be able to refuse if they really won’t want to do it.”
“He is right, Mirabel,” Julieta called from where she stood. “This is just a game that we’re playing. Us adults get silly sometimes, too.”
“Once again, I’m sorry if I scared you,” Pedro spoke on. “It seems my performance was too convincing.”
Mirabel did not appear entirely convinced. “It’s really a game?” she asked.
Her eldest sister rolled her eyes at her. “Of course it’s a game. They’re all laughing. Do you laugh when you’re in trouble?”
Agustín narrowed his eyes at her. “Isabela, don’t be mean to your sister.”
Pedro reached across the table to pat his son-in-law on the shoulder. “Thank you, Agustín, for demonstrating a real scolding.” He then looked down at Mirabel, who was still safely nested in her father’s arms. “Do you see the difference, Mirabel? Between the way your papá spoke to your sister and the way I spoke to your mamá, tía and tío? He meant to be stern. I was only pretending to be stern. Isabela knows she was told off and that’s why she grimaced. My children, meanwhile, were grinning like idiots and doing everything they could to show me how little they cared. They knew I wasn’t really angry at them and I knew they weren’t being intentionally mean. From the very start, this was all a party game that we knowingly participated in. Do you believe me, mi vida?”
Mirabel took a moment to process her grandfather’s words. “I guess…?” she said in a small voice.
Pedro smiled at her kindly. “It’s alright, darling. It will become easier as you get older.” Having settled the matter, he once again straightened his back. “Okay, I believe we can go back to our game, everyone. So, once again, Mirabel: what sort of ‘punishment’ do you think is appropriate for lying?”
Mirabel thought about it. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with assigning a punishment to her mamá, even if it was for the sake of the game. But mamá was smiling at her encouragingly. She mouthed ‘Go on’. Tía Pepa and tío Bruno were nodding along. So maybe it was okay? Just to be sure, the little girl looked up at her papá. He leaned closer and used one hand to shield his mouth. “Maybe we should make them wear one another’s clothes?” he whispered mischievously. “Since they love theatrics SO much.”
Mirabel brightened up at his suggestion. She knew she could trust papá to save the day. It was with sheer delight she announced her decision to the rest of the family. “They have to wear the clothes I chose for them! And then they have to dance and sing a song!”
Pedro clapped his hands. “Splendid! Luisa?”
Mirabel’s middle sister had no problems coming up with a punishment. “Ten laps around the house!”
“Oh, that’s brutal. I like it! Isabela?”
The eldest of three sisters took on a serious pose. “First of all, they have to say they’re sorry. Then, they have to give all of us hugs and kisses.”
Pedro acknowledged it with a nod. “Very thoughtful. Dolores?”
Pepa’s daughter was buzzing with excitement. “I like Isa’s idea! Let’s have them hug and kiss us all! Oh! And make them do the dishes!”
Bruno pretended to be horrified. “Oh no! Not the dishes!”
Pepa dramatically gestured at the table. “Do you see how many there are? We’ll be up all night!”
“And I was so looking forward to getting drunk with my sisters!” Bruno lamented.
Julieta covered her face with her hands. “I think I prefer the chancla! At least it’s fast and over with!”
Her siblings were a little startled by that declaration. “Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” they glanced over at Pedro, as if to check if he was taking her seriously. His face made it hard to tell what he was thinking, and it seemed to be exactly the effect he was going for.
“We’ve had a lot of great ideas. Which ones would be the most satisfactory, I wonder?” he strolled alongside the table, faking deep contemplation. All the Madrigals watched him in anticipation. He ravished their attention, taking his sweet time, before allowing the wicked grin to return to his face. “I’m going to go with what the majority wants,” he told the triplets as he walked over to them. “You owe a hug and a kiss to each of the children, your mother and myself. Any objections?”
Surprisingly, there were some – though not from the source he had considered. “Hey! What about us?” Félix called out. “I didn’t marry into this family to be excluded!”
Bruno was quick to counter him. “Félix, I am not going to kiss you!”
His brother-in-law looked genuinely shocked and hurt. “Why ever not? Am I not handsome enough for you?”
Bruno ignored him in favor of his own father. “I don’t need to answer that. I won’t be kissing Félix, or Agustín. This is my very reasonable boundary,” he put his hands on his hips to underline the point.
“Very well,” conceded Pedro. “Do handshakes fall within your very reasonable boundary?”
Bruno thought about it. “Yeah, I could live with that.”
“Then it’s settled. Félix and Agustín get handshakes. The kids and the two of us get hugs and kisses. I will be watching, so don’t try and cheat the system.”
Julieta raised her hand. “What happens when we cheat the system?”
Pedro spread his arms in mock-defeat. “Well, If you would be so foolish as to refuse this very light and very reasonable punishment, I guess I’ll have to turn you over to the next competent authority.” He shot a communicative look at his daughter’s husband. “Agustín, I believe you have a better idea than me as to what sort of disciplinary measures will work on your wife, huh?”
Agustín blushed, not expecting to be pulled into the spotlight. “Well, not really, I mean…” he stuttered before pulling himself into order. It was just a game, he reminded himself. He didn’t have to think very hard – his wife will still manage to blow it out of proportions. “I suppose I could move all of her books onto the highest shelf. Oh, better yet – tighten all of her jars, so she can’t open them without me!” he declared with authentic joy and pride.
As expected, Julieta let out an over-the-top scowl. “Agustín, have mercy! Don’t take away my independence!”
Her husband couldn’t help chuckling. It was incredibly hard to keep a straight face in front of such an engaging performance. “Be a good girl and I won’t have to, Corazón!”
“I’ll be good! I swear!” she crossed her heart.
Pedro clapped. “Splendid! Now, before anybody else comes up with a stupid idea – kids, come and get your kisses!”
A stampede of children surrounded the triplets. Little hands grabbed at skirts and ruana, giggles filled the air. It was chaotic and took some time, but each child received a hug and a kiss from each adult. Once the youngest generation has been serviced, Agustín and Félix received their handshakes and did so with unconcealed pleasure. Next in line was Alma, who received a hug and a kiss from each of her children. Finally, it was Pedro’s turn.
“You’ll have to lean, Papá,” said Pepa as she stood in front of him.
Pedro smirked. “Going for the forehead? Fine then.”
He leaned in. What followed was a group assault – Pepa kissed him on the forehead while Julieta and Bruno kissed him on the cheeks. Thus, the punishment had been finalized.
“I hope you have learned your lesson,” Pedro addressed his children, who once again lined up in front of him. “Lying is a sin. And doesn’t get you anywhere. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Papá!” they answered in chorus.
“Next time you want extra kisses, just ask me. Like the responsible adults you supposedly are.”
“Yes, Papá!”
“I am asking you now – do you want extra kisses?”
“Yes, Papá!”
“And what do you say when you want something?”
“…please?”
Pedro smiled, satisfied with the outcome. Then, he approached his children and gave each of them a kiss on the forehead. Finally, he pulled them all into the most bone-crushing hug he could pull off. It ended up with them hugging him rather than the other way around, but nobody seemed to mind. They were all ridiculously happy and that was all that mattered.
Chepe banged on the door, breathing heavily as he banged again a second later. He left no time to wait as he kept desperately hitting his fist against that door. That red door that would finally open when its occupant managed to limp his way to answer it.
There he was when his call was answered. In the glow of his candlelight, Gustavo Pinheiro stood before him in his pajamas, his crutch tucked underneath his elbow that helped him make the journey to his front door.
Any normal person would have a look of confusion at such an abrupt visit in the middle of the night, but not Gustavo. He only looked at his oldest friend standing there in the summer mist of the late night and sighed. “What happened now?” He asked.
“Him. Who else?” Chepe shoved past him and went to the kitchen to start pouring himself a drink. “Be a normal couple for one night…” he repeated to himself. “Motherfucker” he poured a glass but drank from the bottle.
Gustavo made his way to the kitchen to watch, and he leaned against the frame of the arch. “Easy on my whiskey. I need that for my pain.”
“Fuck you, Gustavo. You have no idea what pain is.” He downed the glass as well, slamming it down back on the counter. He panted, feeling himself sweating. “God, I almost lost it. I almost cried in front of him. I almost…”
Gustavo made his way over to him and put his hand on his shoulder as Chepe began to sob. He rubbed it softly…
“Go relax. I’ll make you some food, ceilo.”
WOAH WOAH WOAH!! Check this out! Another Fic by Rinnysega. A short one but is a part of a big au story.
I was rereading some of my seer Julieta posts and now I decided that during the rebuilding of Casita Julieta bonded with her daughters by playing matchmaker with them. They were trying to get Dolores with Mariano and Bruno with Osma.
They even got Augustin to join in too. He was grateful for Bruno’s help during those ten years and now wants to see Bruno happy with the love of his life.
Pepa was a little harder to convice until Julieta said that it looked like it might rain on their wedding day in her vision.
Pepa, who made it her life goal to make it rain on both of her siblings’ wedding days after they flooded her brain on her’s, immediately agrees to help.
Alr- i must clarify i did this only thinking about drawing the triplets and Alma as hot vampires and how well Alcina and the three daughter’s roles fit for them. I did not had in mind the other 3 lords nor Mother Miranda so- the only lore I can give you is:
The miracle that Alma recieved after losing her husband was a refuge, yes, but it didn’t move mountains nor gave them a pretty magic house- instead it was a huge ass castle, and instead of gifts, Alma and her kids were given special habilities (a.k.a: turning into flies *not sure if i should make it rats to fit better* and a bloodthirsty nature and appereance that would definetly scare off any potential threats. (and ofc inmortality, which is why they all look younger).
So yeah, The Castle Madrigal would be known as a haunted, dangerous place, so the war never affected them nor the people which Alma welcomed to the castle at the time, but I do imagine that everyone eventually fled out of fear of the bloodthirty monster they had become.
So yeah, it would basicly just be them, I honestly have no idea how to add the other Madrigals and if i’m quite honest i don’t really want to, i love the happy vampire family dynamic xD
PLAYLIST RECS | did you get enough love, my little dove?
❝After her papá disappeared and her younger cousin, Mirabel, wasn’t blessed by the miracle, Moerai Marigal knew that her family was in shambles although they bury it under layers of denial. And then nearly a decade later, Mirabel starts claiming that the miracle is dying and it’s up to them to save it. But after all the miracle’s put her through, Moerai wonders if it’s worth saving.❞
