CHAPTER UPDATE|chapter two: i will do anything for you

… “So am I, mi pequeña luciérnaga, it’s the last gift we’re going to have until all of you are grown and have your own kids!”

“That’s gonna be a long time, papá,” Moerai says in awe, eyes going wide as she pulls away from him.

Her papá chuckles “Indeed it is, Moe, but it’ll be worth the wait.”

Moerai nods in agreement “My kids will have the neatest gifts!”… .“

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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.❞

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CHAPTER UPDATE|chapter one: my little firefly

… “"You better not be encouraging Camilo’s antics, mi pequeña luciérnaga, you know that your Tía Pepa won’t like that.”

She hadn’t been playing games with Camilo today, he had recently been blessed by the Casita and his gift was that of shapeshifting. Herself, little Mirabel, and Camilo had been having a blast with his gift, much to everyone’s chagrin, since his birthday.

Moerai shrugs her shoulders nonchalantally “Tía Pepa doesn’t scare me, papá! ‘Sides, I don’t mind her storms.”

“Well, luciérnaga, she scares me,” … .“

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BOOK POSTER: my little versailles

❝With the gift to see into the past of a person or object, Moerai Madrigal had silently been deemed the more useful version of her papa, Bruno Madrigal by her abuela, although Moerai would hardly call her ability a gift. Since her fifth birthday Moerai has had to deal with the crushing weight of not being able to touch anyone she loves without seeing everything they’ve been through and she had to deal with the pressures of being a magical Madrigal.

After her papa disappeared and her younger cousin, Mirabel, wasn’t blessed by the miracle, it wasn’t hard to see that her family was in shambles although they buried it like the past under layers of denial and the five stages of grief. But somehow her family moved on in an unconventional way, Moerai stayed the same, always wondering when her papa would come back, wondering when it would be alright to talk about him again. And then Mirabel claims that the miracle is dying and it’s up to them to save it.❞

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These are Bruno’s twins, Beatriz and Lidia Madrigal because of fucking course Bruno had to end up having twins and four kids altogether

Honestly, I wanna think of gifts for all of Bruno’s kids

His eldest son Mateo, his gift would be super speed. He’s able to run errands, run things to people and just in general get things done faster. His problem ? He doesn’t know how to slow down and gets stressed out and anxious if things aren’t done fast enough for his liking. Bruno has to often sit with his son and do breathing exercises with him in order to get him to calm down and just take his time.

His eldest daughter Sofía is able to manipulate gravity and make things really light or really heavy, which takes some stress off of her cousin Luisa. If the donkeys or someone’s house are super light, what’s stopping the the people of Encanto from fixing it themselves for the time being ?

His daughter Beatriz can grow up to 50 feet in height, which was hell for Bruno, because imagine dealing with a 50 foot 5 year old throwing a tantrum. She wasn’t allowed to use her gift until she was old enough to keep her emotions in check and be conscious of her surroundings because they didn’t want anyone accidentally getting smushed. When she gets older, she uses her gift to carry large things or to help build things but doesn’t use it often. She’s not really fond of her gift, since it made her feel ostracized from her siblings when she was younger and made her think that she was just a danger to herself and everyone else.

His daughter Lidia, Beatriz’s twin sister, can shrink herself to about 10 inches in height, another ‘gift’ that almost gave Bruno a heart attack, because he was so scared that he was going to accidentally step on and squish his daughter or she was going to get stuck somewhere and he wouldn’t know. Lidia uses her gift to reach things in small spaces other people can’t reach, like if someone has dropped a wedding ring down a drain or something. When she gets overwhelmed, she likes to shrink herself and hide in the walls with the rats.

Knock On Wood

Word count: 0

Characters: Bruno Madrigal, Adelita (mentions; Isabela Madrigal, Pepa Madrigal)

Summary: Bruno adores his child.

Warnings: Fluff, and father daughter bonding

Notes: I figured it was high time I actually wrote a complete thing for my Dad Bruno au. I couldn’t let go of the idea of Bruno’s child picking up some of his habits. This was the result.

———

In the kitchen, the smell is more delicious than any single thing cooking in there: the ajiaco, sancocho, buñuelos. A pleasant blend that bathes the warm room and wafts out the open entryway and windows to tease nearby travelers.

It has been a while since Bruno has had the chance to spend precious time with his querida, Adelita. His family, as much as he loves them, had hardly given him a moment with her since she’d moved into la casa Madrigal merely two weeks ago.

“Mambrú se fue a la guerra, ¡qué dolor, qué dolor, qué pena!. Mambrú se fue a la guerra, no sé cuando vendrá.”

Humming back to her Pa, the little girl sits at the dining table. Her bright yellow headband, decked with marigolds, embroidered with three small ribbons; aquarium teal, tangerine orange, and sap green, dually contrasting her dark balayage hair and fitting in with the yellow shades of the room.

The kitchen is an earthy clay tone, yellow stucco and saltillo tiles with an open arch entryway. The wooden shelves are more teal where the varnish holds and faded, almost pale, in areas that experienced a barrage of sunlight. The cabinets and shelves are stocked with dishes, cups, and bowls, and assorted spices; everything a healer would need to hone their craft. What’s more than that, the shelves and counters are ornamented with succulents and ferns tended by Isabela.

“Look it!” Adelita cheerily declares. Her smile stretches with excitement, as she reveals the drawing she’d been working on.

Bruno moves across the kitchen and sits at the table in the seat beside her. He then swaps with her, taking her drawing in exchange for a wooden spoon coated with rich golden hued dulce de leche.

“Ooo,” she cooed. Her already large smile spreads further to move her freckles. She looks as if she was just handed the brightest star in the sky. Her deep brown eyes, richer almost than the caramelized milk, brim with excitement. “Can I eat this?” She asked, eyes flicking up to Bruno.

“Sí, mi querida.”

Adelita squeals in the febrile air. Dangling meters above the floor, her legs kick back and forth wildly, as if they were on broken hinges caught in the wind. Watching the little girl burst over something so simple, Bruno can’t help chuckle.

He’d been collecting Adelita’s drawings since before she was his. Still, she is less than five. Her artwork is multi-coloured jottings and scribbles. Rudimentary at best. Bruno knows his child’s work well enough to recognise some shapes; lopsided smiley faces, squiggly clouds, and slanted rainbows. Unfortunately, none of those were visible on this particular piece.

With Lita distracted by the candied spoon, he estimates he can look ahead just a few seconds to see his daughter tell him herself what she has created. Without his sand and unable to use his usual ritual materials, as they would draw attention, he settles for knocking on wood.

“Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock. Knock on wood.”

Bruno shuts his eyes momentarily as he exhales sharply and opens them once again when he feels his vision spinning and whirling like Antonio’s toy top. From his eyes appears a soft yet vibrant emerald green glow.

A minute passes. His eyes clear, simmering down to their natural luminance.

It takes a second or two for the new information to sink it. Though his heart swells in anticipation for the excitement he knows his child will soon possess. “Mira, taught you how to make a capycorn?” He flips the paper around so the image faces its creator.

Adelita stares up at him. The spoon held lazily in one hand, its tip still in her mouth. Not at all the reaction he but moments ago envisioned her having.

The future isn’t guaranteed, he reminds himself.

There is an adorable moment where Adelita’s face washes blank with confusion. He watches the curiosity register on her freckled face before she positions an elbow on the table and rests her face on her palm.

A small smile plays on Bruno’s lips, watching her crinkle her nose. She has a look about her, that concentrated look children have when their young minds thrust into overdrive to solve something that perplexed them.

“Papi? Why do you knock on wood?” She asked. She reaches down the table, clasping her tiny fingers around his wrist and pulls it before herself. She aligns her palm with his. Her hand is a mouse in his, small and gentle.

Bruno shrugs, letting his gaze drop. “Oh, it’s just a thing I do to ward off bad stuff,” he explained, picking at some wood splintering from the edge of the table.

“Oh,” she repeated. Her mouth falls into a perfect circle. Her eyes narrow, a deep, focused intensity behind them as she studies his fingers, curling them one by one until she shapes his hand into a complete fist. “Did it work?” She questioned. Her attention momentarily flickers to him.

She sits on her knees, discarding the wooden spoon on the table. Dulce de lech and saliva drip from the tip, oozing down onto the table. Bruno makes a mental note to wipe the mess up later.

Now with both hands, the little girl takes her Pa’s fisted hand in her and raises it. Sticking her tongue out, as if the minor action will help her aim, she carefully taps his knuckle against the wooden table top twice.

“Knock, knock…” she quoted.

Her face twists, eyebrows furrowing, lips falling into a frown. Her mouth opens but no words come out, instead an indignant whine slips out.

“-Knock, knock, knock. Knock on wood.” Bruno completed, using his free hand to thump the table twice, then his temple once.

Her face lit up, brighter than the sun on Pepa’s happiest days, a smile completely enveloping her face. Giggles bubble out of her. When she laughs, her eyes squeeze shut, crinkling at the corners.

Her laughter is the world, and in this moment Bruno feels complete.

“No!” she squealed, swatting at his hand. “You’re not made of wood,” she manages to say between bales of giggles. Her sweet, almost melodic laughter can be heard throughout the house.

Her laugh is contagious. Even Casita can’t resist. The tiles of the kitchen floor spring up and bounce as if they were frogs. The cabinets open and shut, trying to match the beat of her laughter, and shelves shake.

Bruno’s chuckle is light, laced with a hum of amusement at the moment. The corner of his mouth rises into his cheek. A spark of mischief in his verdant eyes signals he’s about to perform playfully.

"I’m not?” He questioned, feigning shock.

Adelita shakes her head.

“Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock. Knock on wood.” Bruno again recited. This time he thumps his fist against the table five times, then carefully bumps his daughter’s forehead once.

Her nose twitches. She processes his act and in an instant, a high pitched gleeful squeal escapes her lips, renting through the air. She further dissolves, crossing her arms over her stomach in an attempt to catch her breath, into a puddle of laughter.

“No, no! I’m not wood either!”

Bruno leans over so his forehead is pressing against hers. "Are you sure?” He interrogated, narrowing his eyes.

Adelita bit at her lip, scrunching her nose. She tries to suppress her laughter, but ends up bursting into another torrent of giggles. “Mm. For super sure.” She replied as she used her forehead to push his head back.

Bruno could see she needed time to catch her breath. The child’s breathing had become wheezy and worrisome. The lack of air was beginning to make her gasp, as if the wind had been swiftly knocked out of her. Still, she is smiling. Her mouth spread wide in a childishly lopsided grin.

Bruno brings her onto his lap, rubbing her back in a soothing circle. Adelita relaxes against him so fully, he feels all her weight slump across him. She inhales slowly, still a bit shaky. Bruno, only for a moment, settles his chin atop her head before looking down and asking.

“Then what are you made of?”

She moves closer so that he feels the warmth radiating from her body, yet stays quiet, listening to his heartbeat. Lost in the rhythmic symphony of the organ’s beat, her shallow breathing steadies.

Her voice tumbles out cooly. “Um, flowers, and wishes, I like wishes, and love. I think.” She spoke, each word seemingly chosen with mindful consideration.

Lita absentmindedly picks at a loose thread in his ruana, letting her head tilt backward. “Papi, what are you made of?” Her eyes flare up at him, cast aglow by the flecks of gold peppering the rims of her steady, deep brown orbs and sunlight dancing through the kitchen’s open spaces.

Bruno heaves a sigh.

“Bones,” he replied, sounding earnest. However, his tone is interlaced, braided with innocent witticism.

Adelita lets out a short, sort of drained giggle. She blinks, following this, her eyes squinch. A corner of her lip twitches for a moment, then her mouth settles in a smooth, faint smile.

"No.” She protested. She cuddles further against him. Her fingers curl into the fabric of his ruana, not clasping it tightly, but just enough to reassure her that he’s present.

Adelita, despite her age, absorbed things and then responded with all the magnanimity and weightiness she was capable of.

“You’re made of love too.” She said, as if it were a simple, all too obvious fact.

Adelita suddenly felt the muscles of his body tense as pressure builds inside his chest and in that moment his arms squeezed a fraction tighter. His lower body more or less trembles, similar to the way it does when a chill surges through the spine.

She moves to her knees with a growing sense of concern.

“Papi?”

She stares at him, eyes darting left and right, seeking to identify his feelings. He gives a hint at a smile. There is a tightening in his throat and a short unsteady intake of breath. Tears silently trickle down his cheeks.

“No. Papi, don’t cry.” Lita wipes the tears from his cheeks. A gentle smile appears on his lips. The adoring expression on his face indicates his true sentiments.

The sound of knocking came fivefold.

“Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock–”

Adelita, she gently places her small hands on the sides of his face. “Don’t worry, Papi.” Her eyes met his, and they shared a smile. “I’ll protect you from the bad stuff.”

Bruno positions his forehead against hers, so that their noses are mere inches apart. With a loving expression, he gazed at her. He gently bumps their temples together.

“Knock on wood.”