pjwritingblog

[pjwritingblog]

hey friends, im still plugging away on a longer fic, but I am gonna try and get a few shorter little imagines posted, including part 3 to my most recent one.

also, happy new year :)

[pjwritingblog]

so, quick question. is the main characters brother viciously murdering the rest of the family and establishing extremely deep trauma for her like, too dark to begin a slow-burn fanfic on or....?

[pjwritingblog]

Hi i am back and again and no pressure answer when you can. So theyre dating now! How about the reader getting fed up of the townsfolk of whispering and muttering espcially when theyre out together. And reader is like " mi amor, mi cariño, mi sueño, mi corazon, mi querido... I know you dont want to attract too much attention but... THIS MAN IS AN ABSOLUTE SWEETHEART AND ANYONE WHO TELLS OTHERWISE FIGHT ME!" Imagine the reader ( shortgang XD) ready to throw hands at bruno slander! I feel like with enough provocation reader and pepa would have to be restricted by their partners to save.the villagers xF

a/n: alright i took a few liberties with this one but the concept is there. And yes, there will be a part 3, it’s just hella late and i wanted to get something posted today lol also @insanitybyanothername asked to be tagged so here u go bb

Part 1 (though you should be fine without it)

“Just admit you don’t love me already!”

“Ay, querido!” Bruno threw his hands up in exasperation. “All my grey hairs, they come from you.” He put his hands on your shoulders. “I love you. So much. Which is why I think we should keep our relationship a secret a little longer yet.”

“But-”

“No buts. You don’t hear the things they say about me, corazon. I couldn’t forgive myself if they started spreading lies about you too.” You were working on his self-esteem, and it was doing relatively better. Bruno could admit that what the townsfolk said about him was wrong, and that he didn’t deserve it(he would add, however, that he should have been more discerning between a prophecy and just neighborly advice). But rather than face their prejudices against him head-on, he hid in the Casita, venturing out only to see you. And though his nieces tried, parading around the square, showing off the positive prophecies he’d made recently about their lives, many still whispered cruel and malicious things about him.

“Amor. Please.” You wrapped your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You said it yourself: lies. I know the kind of man you are. I know the love we share. What could any of them say to take that away from me?”

“But-”

“No buts.” You smirked at him. “I want to show everyone the man I love.” You didn’t say it aloud, but you thought taking your relationship public could actually be good for him. Your family was well-known and respected. Surely if they saw you and Bruno together, they’d know he couldn’t be bad.

“Well. You make a convincing argument.” He tried to look blase, but you saw a smile in his eyes.

“Great, come on!”

“What, now?” He let you drag him towards the square, where most of the town seemed to be congregated.

You took his arm, making a big show of lacing your hands together. You glanced at Isabela and she gleefully joined in, surreptitiously handing Bruno a large bouquet of exotic blooms, which he then passed to you. You thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, tucking a pure white lily into his lapel. “Laying it on thick, don’t you think?” He muttered in your ear, clearly unhappy.

“Don’t know what you mean.” You winked at him, then said much louder: “Thank you for walking me home, Cariño!” You kept going, past the square and down a block, to where you lived with your sister. “That went wonderfully.”

“I don’t like this, querido.” He rubbed at his temple. “Everyone was staring, and Dolores gave me this look like…people are saying things.”

“Yes, the town hermit just publicly announced a relationship with a very eligible and desirable and not to mention drop-dead gorgeous young thing. People are going to talk.”

“Careful, Corazon, or people might think you’re vain.”

“Like a peacock Amor, like a peacock.”

---

It was fine, at first. You had a few people make comments, saying Bruno looked much brighter these days, more out of his shell. Getting to go out in public with your beloved was a treat; the twilight walks you were fond of now took place around your neighborhood, instead of slipping out into the forest, and Bruno would kiss you goodbye when you left the Casita, even if half the town was outside.

The first cruel comment came from the baker across the street. She walked up to you one day when you were sweeping the verandah, puffing out her chest. “I guess you think if you date the crazy bachelor freak, you can marry into the Madrigal gold.”

You were honestly too shocked to speak. First of all, you and your sister weren’t exactly beggars. Second of all, as if your motivations could be so cruel. So heartless. “Ignore her.” Your sister urged you. “She used to be sweet on him, she’s just jealous.”

But it happened again. The candle-maker lured you over to him in the market, whispering that you needed to be careful. That Bruno had powers none of us understood. That he was dangerous. You did your best to assure him that you understood exactly how Brunos powers worked, and that you trusted him with your life, but he didn’t seem convinced.

And Bruno…Bruno was hiding something. For the first time since your relationship began, the dark circles under his eyes were returning. You tried to ask him what was wrong, but he just said he hadn’t slept well. Knowing a certain set of ears had a favorite Tio, you tracked down Dolores.

“People are being really mean. He doesn’t want to tell you, because he doesn’t want you to think it’s your fault.” She said before you could even speak. “They’ve never been nice to him, exactly, but this is the worst I’ve seen it.” Her big doe eyes stared straight into yours. “I think the townsfolk feel a little…protective of you. And they think….” She pursed her lips.

“Please, Dolores. I need to fix this.” You pleaded.

“They think he somehow…forced you. The way he forces bad things to happen. Which he doesn’t. But they don’t know that. We do.” With a squeak, she scuttled off.

It doesn’t matter, you told yourself. You know the truth. This was fine. This was okay, and it didn’t matter, and you love Bruno and Bruno loves you and it was fine. You kept repeating it to yourself even as hot tears dripped down your cheeks. You slid down the wall, hugging your knees to your chest as you sobbed. You had thought, you really had, that somehow this would make things better. That through the sheer power of love, people would see who Bruno truly was.

“What’s this?” You wiped at your eyes to see Camilo standing above you. Before you knew it he was beside you, but much taller, so he could wrap his arms around you and hold you tight to his now-broad chest. You tearfully explained what had happened, how things had only been made worse.

“No, no. We can work with this.” Camilo turned back into himself, brows knit in concentration.

“But how? How can we prove that I’m with Bruno of my own free will?’

A lightbulb.

“You break up with him!” Camilo clapped. “A big, messy public breakup. Then, he makes a big show of wooing you, proving he is a better man and worthy of your love.”

“He is worthy of my love.” You said petulantly.

“I know that, but they don’t.”

“It doesn’t matter, Bruno would never agree. I doubt he’s willing to leave the house right now.” When he didn’t respond, you looked up to see a mischievous, catlike grin on Camilo's face.

“I don’t see a problem with that.”

[pjwritingblog]

pssst. i'm working on a full-length fic.

its gonna be a crazy fix-it/self insert/AU fic.

:)

[pjwritingblog]

Prompt: Bruno peeks into your future, not because he has a crush on you or anything! Just because...y'know...he wants to know if you ever get a significant other

a/n: i'm pretty sure i saw another post with this same concept, not trying to steal any ideas! just having fun :) also do they eat paletas in colombia? i have no idea.

Bruno Madrigal did not have a crush on Y/N. He didn't! He was a grown man goddamnit, he didn't get crushes on every pretty person who treated him with anything better than contempt.

Which, y'know, maybe you were the first pretty person(other than his beautiful nieces and nephews, of course) who treated him with something better than contempt, but that was beside the point.

His family joked about his sugar addiction. How almost every afternoon like clockwork, he tried to convince someone to go down to the bakery with him. And sure, the shortbread cookies melted on your tongue like magic, and the cakes so rich you almost couldn't eat more than a bite, the paletas the single most perfect thing you could wish for on a hot day, but that wasn't why Bruno spent a small fortune there.

It was for you. He just...liked seeing you. Every day. It was very normal and not at all creepy.

Bruno didn't want to be creepy. His reputation had improved somewhat since he returned from his, ahem, 'extended vacation' but he didn't want to make you uncomfortable, especially at your job. Surely, after all, the whole town was already in love with you(not that Bruno was in love with you!), who could resist your unorthodox beauty? Your freckled smile? Your loud, boisterous laughter?

That's what he would do. He would simply find out who you were going to end up with. He'd take a quick little glimpse into your future, just enough to determine who the lucky winner of your affections was, and then he could let his heart be shattered and move on help the two of you fall in love! What a matchmaker he was to his friend.

In his new vision cave, he hastily set everything up, wanting to know already, and as the sand began to swirl in sparks of emerald, his heart started pounding. There you were, walking in the park hand-in-hand, sharing a meal, passed out together on a couch...Each vision of you and a shadowy figure made Bruno's heart splinter. He wanted you to be happy, he really, really did, this was normal, this was fine....he focused harder and the shadow finally started to take shape.

No.

That...couldn't be right.

He had to have done something wrong.

Because as the image sharpened, the vague shape, the one that you were gazing at adoringly, brushing the hair out of their eyes and giving them a slow, soft kiss....was him.

And he looked...happy. The bags under his eyes were less oppressive, his clothes didn't hang off a skeletal frame, but mostly he seemed to just glow, with warmth and love and joy.

He stopped the vision, dusting the sand off his body. He ran his hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and bolted down the stairs to find his family.

"Does anyone want to go to the bakery?"

[pjwritingblog]

Ok but imagine Bruno becomes most famous not for his gift, but for his incredible, heart-wrenching telenovelas. It's the highlight of everyones week, when the madrigals act out the script Bruno wrote that week.

And then, finally, technology starts trickling into the secluded little paradise, and people get to tune into a real telenovela for the first time and....hey, this seems familiar?

Bruno literally just ripped the plot of his favorite show from the future

I was watching Encanto (again) and started wondering how Bruno knew about telenovelas and game shows in the 1900’s but then I remembered ‘oh yeah, he can see the future!’ He basically has the same anachronistic pop culture powers that the Genie from Aladdin has but on a much smaller scale.

[pjwritingblog]

Thank you! Thank you its divine! I love it so much! Im gonna ask you first before i drop a buttload of ask. Can i do so? If its ok if not its ok too!

Go nuts! I've got a busy work week ahead of me so I'll probably get behind but I'm always excited to receive requests ☺️

[pjwritingblog]

Hello! I'm a fan of bruno and if its ok to request. A bruno x reader .... Lets say its set after the movie and the reader is new to town shes curious about the madrigals especially bruno but the only thing she knows about him is camilo's part of the song 😂 shes low key scared but very curious and when she gets to know him she fell head over heels! Thank you! Id probably come back for more xD

a/n: oh no it ended up really long (and yes please send me alllll the requests!)

THERE IS NOW A PART 2 :)

~several years ago~

"C'mon Camilo! Tell me another story! A really scary one!"

"Alright, alright!" Camilo feigned annoyance but you could see his smile. He was entertaining your nephew for a while so you could actually get some work done. "I'll tell you the story of....my tio Bruno!" with a swish of his ruana he began his tale of a seven-foot tall man with an army of rats, preying on your fears and reveling in misery. You found yourself idling, listening to the story with morbid curiosity.

You had heard whispers about Bruno, now and then. The first time someone had mentioned him shortly after you moved here, you tried to ask who he was, but you were dismissed with a harsh "we don't talk about Bruno!". When you asked your sister, she explained, the third child of Alma Madrigal had disappeared years ago and nobody knew why. She refused to elaborate, only saying good riddance.

"That's not...really true, is it?" You asked Camilo

"Of course it is." He winked at you, and you didn't know if he was lying or not, but you hoped this Bruno stayed gone.

~present day~

"Excuse me?" You heard someone call from the other room. You gave it a moment, but not hearing your sister greet the customer, you set down your shuttle and stepped into the shop.

"Hello!' You called as you passed through, and a vaguely familiar man turned to face you. He was pale, with deep purple bags under his eyes. His hair was a mass of salt-and-pepper curls, and he wore a threadbare ruana and sandals that looked to be repaired hastily with yarn. He had a sadness about him you couldn't place, though he was smiling politely.

"Hi." You maintained awkward eye contact for a few moments before he seemed to remember what was happening. "I need some new clothes."

"Yes," I can see that, you resisted the urge to say. You didn't want to judge. "Would you like me to take measurements for a custom piece, or just browse our selection?" You gestured to the finished garments hanging on the walls. Without saying anything, he started thumbing through the racks. What a strange man.

"So, are you new in town? Or just your wife usually does the shopping?" You asked, studying the man. He seemed a bit short, but you weren't sure if he truly was, or if it was just the hunched sort of way he stood.

"No! Um. Well, I grew up here, um, well I was away for a while and now I'm back." The simple question seemed to be stressing him out.

"Well...welcome back." You smiled at him.

"Thanks." He met your eyes again. They were a greenish-goldish sort of hazel. "You own this place?"

"No, my sister does. Not sure where she slipped off too, actually. I moved here a few years back, when our folks passed."

"Oh. I'm so sorry to hear that." You'd heard that plenty of times in your life, but he really seemed to mean it.

"Thanks. It's okay, it brought me here, to this beautiful place. We're so lucky to be here!" You looked out the front of the store, towards the hills and forest that surrounded you.

"Right. Well...I think I'm all set." He placed a stack on the counter, a few shirts and a pair of pants.

You rang him up, and as you handed him his bag, your fingers touched. You swear for a second, his eyes seemed to change. He turned to go, and you found yourself blurting out "My brother-in-law is a shoemaker, next door. Tell him I sent you, he'll take care of you."

You had imagined this would lead to him asking your name, and you could ask his in turn. But instead he just said great, thanks and left, leaving you feeling curious.

~~~

You peppered your sister with questions about the mysterious man, but she couldn't tell you anything. "You mean to tell me as the only weaver in a village of 200 people, there's somehow someone you don't know?!"

"I'm bad with faces, you know that!"

"What's this about?" Your brother-in-law stepped in the room, taking off his hat and giving your sister a kiss.

"Did a short pale guy come in for some shoes today?"

"Yeah, Bruno? He mentioned you."

"Bruno?" You and your sister said simultaneously. "You don't mean Bruno Bruno?"

"Bruno Madrigal? Yeah, definitely him. Why?"

"No! But he's-..." You cut yourself off, feeling silly.

"What?" He probed

"...Scary?" You admitted sheepishly. "I may have also been under the impression he was, ehm, seven feet tall?"

Your brother-in-law burst out laughing. "Who told you that?"

"Camilo."

"In one of his stories? Y/n, you can't actually believe what he says in those."

"So he's not actually....evil?" You felt like a silly little kid asking, but you were having trouble reconciling the tiny man you had seen today with the whispers of a malicious rat king.

"No, no."

"Amor, he is. Remember what he told us!" Your sisters voice was icy.

"It wasn't his fault!"

"He had no right-"

"Mi vida it's been years-"

You stood between the two of them, hands up. "Someone tell me what you're talking about!"

Your sister sighed. "Elena." Her first pregnancy. A miscarriage. "He found us. Sought us out the night before we planned to announce we were expecting. Warned us...that she..." Her eyes misted over and you and your brother-in-law held her tight. "He only tells vicious things."

You weren't sure how to feel. More than anything, you wanted to know Bruno's side of the story. So when Bruno's new shoes were ready, you asked your brother-in-law if you could deliver them.

As you walked towards the newly-rebuild Casa Madrigal, you realized you had seen Bruno, several times, when you had helped with the rebuilding, though never up close. A gentle sort of man, but goofy. He was good with spackle, and liked to make sure everyone was drinking enough water.

"Hi!" Mirabel Madrigal greeted you as the door magically swung open to let you in. "What can I help you with?"

"I'm here to make a delivery, for Bruno?" You held up the shoebox.

"Oh thank goodness! It's a miracle those sandals haven't fallen to bits already. He's out in the sun garden, just through there!" She led you toward an archway on the south side of the house, where colorful cacti bloomed around a large clearing.

In the center sat Bruno, his back to you. He looked to be saying something, shoulders animated as looked towards the ground. Was he doing it now? Having one of those...visions? As you got closer though, you heard a small squeak.

"That's right Coco, very good! Now spin, spin spin! Hold on Arequipe, you're nex--Hi!" He quickly stuffed something into his shirt. "Hi."

"Who were you talking to?"

"Nobody."

"You were talking to yourself?"

"No!"

"So you were talking to somebody."

"Look, its...a lot of people think it's gross."

"Try me." You sat down next to him, handing him his shoebox.

"Okay fine, might as well keep the village wierdo reputation...This is Coconut." He pulled a small rat from his collar. "And this is Arequipe." He pulled out another. You watched them sniff the air, moving around in Bruno's hands, curious but not seeming to be afraid.

"It's nice to meet you both." You gently patted the tops of their heads. "My dad fostered baby squirrels. I think that out-weirds you."

Bruno was grinning, holding them out to you. "You can hold 'em if you want." You scooped up their tiny squirming bodies and they quickly started exploring, Coco running up your arm and around your neck, while Arequipe enjoyed getting lost in the bunched-up folds of your skirt. "They like you."

"They're such little sweeties. I miss having a pet."

"Well, there's a dozen more where these two came from. Feel free to come visit whenever."

"That's a lot of rats!"

"Meh." He shrugged and you giggled.

~~~

The routine was simple. On your off mornings, you would go to Casa Madrigal and play with the rats in the sun garden. Bruno would serve you coffee and snacks, help you tell the rats apart and learn their names, tell you little stories, and make you laugh. Every so often, you would catch him zoning out as you spoke, eyes getting a faint glow as he gazed straight forward. He would excuse himself, but urge you to stay as long as you wanted to. And a few times, you'd turned up just to be told by Mirabel that he had a bad migraine, and wasn't up for company.

Days you didn't come to see him, he visited you in the evenings. He would bring you sweets from the bakery and just watch you work on the loom, he said it was relaxing to just watch the threads weaving back and forth, patterns steadily coming to life while you told him about your day.

Things went on this way for weeks before you finally asked. He explained as best he could how his gift worked. Sometimes people would ask him to look in their futures; though he warned them over and over that he had no control over what he showed them, and that they were probably better off not knowing, they still asked.

Sometimes though, the visions came unbidden. The only times he ever shared those were when he truly thought it would help, that steps might be taken to fix, or that the damage could be somehow mitigated.

~~~

"Your boyfriends here!" Your brother-in-law teased as he spotted Bruno coming up the road. Your sister snickered as you rolled your eyes.

He had apologized to her, months ago. He only warned her so that she had the option of not telling everyone, if she wanted to mourn more privately. That was all. She forgave him, with a teary-eyed embrace.

Though you tried to brush off the comment, you found yourself blushing. Of course you had developed feelings for your soft-hearted, misunderstood black sheep, but you wouldn't ruin things by saying so. Things were just friendly....ish. He would hold your hand, sometimes, while you walked. You had once dozed off together in the sun garden, when you woke your whole body felt aglow with the warm sunshine and Brunos heartbeat next to yours. Sometimes you felt him watching you, and when you turned to face him, the look in his eyes could only be described as 'adoring'.

"Hey."

"Hi. Walk?"

"That sounds nice." As you wandered down the alley and around the corner, he took your hand. It was sweaty. You ended up by a bench surrounded by enormous jasmine bushes, their luscious fragrance perfuming the air.

"So. Um. I'd like to show you something." Bruno looked nervous. But also a little...hopeful? Excited?

"Okay."

"I...had a vision. Today. About you." He was blushing now. "And it was a good one! And I," he swallowed, "Well, you know I don't tend to show people but um, well, just look." He reached into his bag, withdrawing a slab of emerald-green glass. He handed it to you, and it felt cool in your hands. Studying the image, you realized why he was so nervous.

It was the two of you.

Embracing.

Staring at one another with such love and adoration you felt yourself immediately blush.

A ring glinted on your finger.

There were about six rats in the background.

"I didn't want to mess things up." Brunos voice pulled you back to reality. "I didn't think....I never thought I could ever be worthy of someone like you. I wasn't going to say anything, ever probably. But then, um," he gestured to the tablet. "Haven't had a wrong one yet. So. I figured maybe...you could actually-"

"I think you're incredible." You blurted out. "Um. Pretty amazing, honestly. You're sweet, and kind, and you've got such a big heart, and you make me laugh, and...I love you, Bruno."

He looked stunned and overjoyed. He hugged you tightly, so tightly, like he was afraid to let go. "Can I kiss you?" He whispered in your ear.

"I'd like that." You whispered back.

[pjwritingblog]

prompt: the first time you're there for one of bruno's visions.

a/n: holy cow it's my first piece of fic in like three years! be gentle with me lol

"So I was thinking maybe tomorrow we could take a picnic up to the hills, if you like." You suggested it offhand while nuzzling Alfajor, a sandy colored rat.

"I would love that, but um...I've actually gotta do my vision tomorrow." You looked up; Bruno picked at a loose thread of his ruana, looking solomn.

"Oh. Well, can I?-" You took a breath. "Would you like me to be there?"

"Oh! No. Um. That's not...You don't want to see that." This thing with him was fairly new, but growing fast. You didn't need him to tell you he saw you in his future: You wanted him in yours.

"It's not about me, cariño. You say they exhaust you, and can be upsetting...I'd like to be there, to support you." You set Alfajor down and laced your fingers with his, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Um." He swallowed. "Yeah. Okay. Come over after breakfast?"

"It's a date." You held his hand to yours and kissed it and he blushed, before standing to go. After you kissed him goodbye, you found a basket and started filling it.

It wasn't like Bruno wanted the visions. The passing, flickering glimpses of the future he saw daily were merely possibilities. But the visions? Well, there was a reason the prophecies were slabs of stone. They were fixed. Unbreakable.

He had told you, one day, as you braided flowers into his hair, about when he was 7 or 8, when he started realizing this gift was no blessing, about how he tried to just stop having visions. It started with migraines, they got worse until the pain radiated throughout his body, making him sweat and tremor. An intense pressure in his head, until the vision burst out.

He started to tell you what it felt like when they were uncontrolled, but he started shaking, eyes shining bright, so you silenced him with a soft kiss on his temple.

So now, when he felt the visions coming, he sighed and accepted his fate.

The next morning, you knocked on Bruno's door. He took a long time to answer. His face lit up when he saw you, which made you blush. He ushered you into his room, which you'd been told looked a lot different now than it used to.

"What've you got there?" He gestured to the basket in your hands.

"Just stuff I though you might want." You felt a little foolish now that you were here. "Snacks, those little cakes you like, water bottle, another water bottle, a brush 'cuz I know you like when I brush your hair, an extra blanket, and this-" You held up a small stuffed frog. "Is Fern. He is very good at making you feel bett--Oof!" Bruno enveloped you in a fierce hug.

"Thank you for being here. I can't tell you how much it means." He kissed you sweetly and took Fern from your hands. "So. Come on through." He gestured to the plain wooden door you had always assumed was a closet. Once he opened it, you could see it was a cavernous space lit with a green, bioluminescent sort of glow. "This is where the magic happens. Literally. Its literal magic. You'll want to take off your shoes."

You both left your sandals by the door, and he took your hand as you stepped through the passage and into sand. You smiled and wiggled your toes in it. You had felt it before, it seemed to cling endlessly to Bruno, in his hair, his pockets, but feeling it like this was different. It was soft and fine, with a pearlescent sheen.

"So." He put his hands on your shoulders. "You can be inside, or outside. Outside, it just looks like I'm in a big sand snow globe. Inside, you can see everything I'm seeing. It...can be overwhelming."

"Inside." You answered immediately. "Outside I'd just be worrying about you."

"Alright. C'mere." He sits you down in the center of the pit before walking to the far edge of the room, where some baskets were sitting. He withdrew a small camp-style torch and a bowl of sharp-smelling leaves. He lit the stove, and made a few small piles of leaves. "The smoke gets in your eyes." He warned before sitting next to you, lighting the piles with a long match he dipped in the fire, before taking your hand.

He closed his eyes for a few moments, and you felt the sand beneath you start to vibrate. He opened his eyes again, though now they glowed an intense jewel-like green. You were so distracted by his eyes that you didn't notice the sand had begun to swirl around you, gently at first, but soon it whipped around you in a perfect dome, sparks of the same glowing green shimmering like glitter.

"Don't be frightened." He groped for your other hand, eyes unseeing as they gazed straight onward. "Here it comes." His brows knit with concentration and the sparks began to take shape. Was that Pepe? No. Dolores. Was she....crying? What had her upset? As the hazy vision became clearer, you noticed her boyfriend Mariano on one knee...

"Oh! He's gonna propose!" Bruno laughed in delight as the tablet formed in his hands. The sand rained gently back down, dusting you both in the process. "He's....this is wonderful." He gazed in awe down at his niece's emerald face, a perfect image of overwhelming joy.

"Is it really such a big surprise? They're clearly meant for each other." You brushed some sand from the cool glass slab.

"No, it's a lousy prophecy if you ask me, not remotely helpful, but I don't," he swallowed, "I don't ever-I can't remember the last time it was something good." His looked up at you, bemused smile interrupted by a yawn. "This is the part when I crash."

"Come on, lets let you lie down." You pulled him up and led him back into his bedroom. His "bed" was actually a big hammock, stuffed with way too many pillows. You had never been in it before, but Bruno headed straight for it.

"I think it'll be easier if you get in first." He said, rubbing his eyes.

"What?"

"Just sit down like you're sitting in a chair."

"Are we both gonna fit?"

"One way to find out." He pushed down on your shoulders and you sat, letting your weight pull the hammock down. He sat next to you, and you both swung your legs over, reclining.

It was...cozy. Your shoulders pressed each other, straining against the edge of the hammock. "Bit snug."

"Just um...I think if we move a little..." He wiggled, then flipped himself so he was laying against your chest. It took away the pressure, and suddenly you just felt perfectly held by the fabric beneath you. "There."

You pulled his hair loose of its bun and started running your fingers through it, loosening his curls and massaging his scalp. You assumed he was asleep by the way his breath evened out, and he startled you by speaking. "I'm really glad you're here. It's easier with you here."

You kissed the top of his head and held him closer. "Well then, guess I'll just have to be here from now on."

[pjwritingblog]

madrigal family headcanons but they're sad(ish)

isabel was straight-up lying when talking about brunos prophecy for her; bruno had warned her that she would be stuck living someone else's dream.

dolores gets crazy overstimulated and can't be in public for long periods. camilo helps when this happens, becoming large enough to shield her in his arms and carry her back to her (soundproof) room.

bruno isn't the only one who resents his gift; so does pepa. she grew up a ray of golden smiling sunshine, but as she grew and became a mother, she found it harder and harder to keep her mood pleasant all the time.

she and felix like to take long hikes, where they talk about everything and she can get all her emotions out. in between though, she has to get very good at bottling her emotions.

after mirabel didn't get her gift, the family assumed the magic was finished, that no more gifts would be given. it took pepe and felix five more years before they decided it was okay to bring another child into the family even though they wouldn't be gifted

they were all terrified for antonios birthday, and begged abuela not to throw a party; let it be a family celebration and if it happens, great! but abuela insisted over and over that he would get a gift.

like everyone else's gift, luisas strength comes naturally; she doesn't have to train to be incredibly strong. but, well, there were a couple times she was asked to lift things that were just too heavy, even for her. and she couldn't handle having to say no to somebody, no matter the job. so...she tried working out. and it made her even stronger. so even though she'd still be absurdly strong without it, she spends hours every day training so she can be just that little bit stronger

juelieta wishes she didn't have to cook all day every day; so luisa takes up cooking. she loves the quiet gentleness of it, and as she learns she gets to spend more time with her mom, since both of them are so busy most of the time.

[pjwritingblog]

have some bruno madrigal hc

he sees little things all the time, especially in his dreams. they aren't as concrete as his visions, just potential outcomes flickering through his mind

they go into overdrive when he's emotional, to the point he sometimes can't even see reality, just a barrage of snippets of potential realities.

because of this, his eyes turn green when he's feeling strong emotions.

his room didn't used to have all those stairs, or all the sand: the staircase slowly got bigger and bigger as the weight and burden of his power grew. the room used to just have a sort of fountain/well of sand, but as he refused to do more visions, it eventually overflowed and flooded the room with sand.

he always has a little bit of sand in his hair, in his pockets, between his toes, etc.

Casita helped take care of him when he was in the walls, making all the secret passageways and his room. they're a bit rough, as the house wasn't really meant to work like that, but he's a Madrigal and Casita takes care of the Madrigals.

he feels safer in smaller spaces

his visions take a lot out of him, afterwards he needs rest and food.

he doesn't really want to have the visions, but they want out. he can feel them, pushing on his mind. the ritual with the sand and the leaves help him have control: if he refuses to let them out that way, the vision will eventually force its way out. it's terrifying, both for him and for those around him, part of the reason he got a reputation for being scary.

the prophecies turn back into sand when they come true

he still had visions when he was in the walls, so there are dozens of prophecies hidden in the walls. (bit divergent from plot but w/e)

[pjwritingblog]

me? coming out of hiatus to write Encanto imagines? its more likely than you think

[pjwritingblog]

Christmas With Dwarves P.1

A/N: This is going to be a three-parter, I think. Not necessarily a cohesive story, but all set in the same universe. Enjoy!

“Is that snow?” You immediately cast your eyes upward, where sure enough, tiny crystalline snowflakes were beginning to softly cascade upon you all.

“I haven’t seen snow in years.” Balin remarked, holding out his hand and letting the flakes melt on his palm.

“Does it snow much here?” You asked the group.

“We get one or two snow-storms every winter.” Bilbo piped up from where he was bundled. “Days best spent inside with a nice mug of cocoa, if you ask me.”

“Aye, snow taller than me is not uncommon closer to the mountain.” Balin explained.

“Does it snow where you come from?” Kili asked, between attempts to catch snowflakes on his tongue. Several months prior you had stepped into a puddle on your way to work, but your foot kept falling, until the rest of you followed and you found yourself tumbling through space for several minutes before landing on top of a very confused, very startled Fili who had just settled down in his bedroll for the evening. You’d been with the company ever since.

“Not really near me, no. But at Christmas we’ll go stay with my Grandmother for a while and it snows by her quite a bit, so snow always makes me think of the holidays.”

“Sorry, what’s Christmas?” Ori, the scholar,  was always the most curious about your world and its customs.

“Oh, right. It’s a holiday, every year on December 25th. For most people it’s the biggest holiday of the year.” You started to explain.

“What is it for?”

“Well, the modern-day holiday has its roots in a few different belief systems.” You knew that explaining both the nativity story and the pagan traditions that influenced the way most people celebrated Christmas would only cause unnecessary confusion. And your Catholic grandfather rolling in his grave as you butchered the story of the miracle of Christ. “But generally it’s a time of joy and goodwill towards your fellow man. You exchange gifts with your loved ones and spend time with family.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, it’s a very festive season. You put up decorations. A Christmas tree is very traditional.” You kept explaining once you saw puzzled looks. “A fir tree, or a spruce. You cut it down and stand it up in your family room, and you decorate it with lights and ornaments. Glass spheres, usually, in different colors. And little keepsakes that people make as children, or get as gifts. They all have little strings or hooks and you hang them all over the tree. And a star on top.”

“Why a star?” Ori squinted, trying to visualize it.

“I...don’t really know.” You admitted. “Lots of traditions just are, you don’t really question them. But you put the presents under the tree until it’s time to open them. It’s not just the tree either, people will go all out, decorate their entire house with wreaths and ribbons and all sorts, it gets really elaborate.”

“Are there special foods?” Several of the dwarves perked their ears up at this.

“Oh, yes.” You nodded emphatically. “Lots of baking. Most families will have things that are especially traditional or sentimental. My father is very fond of fruitcake, and my mother loves...well, they’re sort of a sugar cookie filled with date paste.” You smiled at the memories. “Every year my sister and I will have friends over and decorate sugar cookies with icing. Christmas morning we always have red and green pancakes--red and green are Christmas colors,” You hastily explained. “For dinner, it’s usually ham or turkey, with all the fixin’s. And pie. Lots of pie.”

“Can we have a Christmas?” Kili pleaded to his uncle.

Thorin gazed down his pipe. “Is there music?”

“Oh goodness yes.” Your mind immediately cycled through the hundreds of Christmas songs you knew. “Lots and lots. Some argue that the official start to Christmas season is when they begin to play Christmas music in public areas.”

“Can we hear one?” Fili pleaded from across the fire.

“Oh, um…” You were trying to think of one that wouldn’t be too confusing. “Well, for any of them to really make sense we have to get a bit further into...folklore.” You started to explain the significance of Santa, how children were told that he was the one who brought them presents if they were well-behaved that year.

“But surely the children figure it out.” Bilbo protested.

“Oh yes, by the time they’re eight or nine they realize it’s their parents. Sooner if they’ve got older siblings.”

“Then what’s the point? Bribery?” Dwalin seemed amused.

“Listen, I told you, it doesn’t all make perfect sense.” You threw your hands up in defeat.

“What other stories do you tell, other than the red man who breaks into houses?” Bofur urged you on.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you heard your fathers voice saying ‘Die Hard is a Christmas movie!’ and you smiled. “Plenty. My favorite has always been A Christmas Carol.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, it doesn’t really talk about Santa or the religious stuff. It’s about Christmas the way I celebrate it, as a time for generosity and kindness. Plus it’s a ghost story, and I’ve always liked those.” Thirteen pairs of eyes were pointed towards you, and you realized they were waiting on you to continue. “Right, lets see how much of this I can remember. Marley was dead to begin with…”

[pjwritingblog]

Imagine celebrating Christmas with Thranduil and him getting ridiculously drunk from his wine stash and drunkenly pulling you under the mistletoe

“Haaaaaaappy Christmas!!” The elf-king threw his hands up as you entered your chambers and you sighed. He was draped across a chaise, an ornate wine glass delicately perched between two of his long, slender fingers, and both the tips of his pointy ears and the tops of his cheeks were tinged the slightest shade of pink.

“First, Christmas isn’t for another four days. Second, you’re not supposed to be drinking unsupervised.” He had gotten in a bad way after the battle, and after Legolas left. Drinking himself sick. After you’d broken down sobbing at the foot of your bed, wailing that you no longer recognized the elf you’d married, he had immediately stopped. He hadn’t touched a drop for over a year, and finally you’d both agreed that he was back in his right mind, and he could start having wine with his meals again, so long as you were there to keep an eye on him.

“Forgive me?” He widened those silvery-grey eyes at you, sticking out his lower lip. “It was a present.” He held up his wine glass and you took it, sniffing the contents.

“Ooh, what is this?” The wine was rich and earthy, with a velvety mouthfeel. The warmth in your throat after you swallowed told you it wasn’t just delicious, it was strong.

“They found it deep in the Lonely Mountain, sent it our way as a little yuletide gesture of peace.” Thranduil keened his head towards you, and you couldn’t help but smile as he nuzzled his head against your stomach. You couldn’t blame him for wanting to sample the mysterious foreign wine, and he might not have noticed how strong it was.

“Hmm. I suppose, given that it was a gesture of goodwill, and I know you cannot resist tasting a new vintage, and because it’s very, very tasty...You may be forgiven.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead and he smiled, taking your hand and kissing your fingers. You had forgotten how affectionate he got when he was well and truly sloshed. “You’ll have to share with me though.”

“I will always share with you, my starlight.” He took the wine glass back from you, refilling it from a decanter on the nearby end-table. “My wine,” He handed the glass back, “my seat,” he patted the chaise, encouraging you to sit beside him, “and my life.” He smacked a kiss to your cheek as you settled beside him, resting a hand on your waist.

The two of you watched the sky darken as you passed the glass back and forth, refilling it often until the decanter had emptied. It was a fairly small decanter, all things considered, but considering his tolerance had been completely reset, Thranduil was completely gone, his head in your lap as he giggled and told you how pretty you were.

“I’m beginning to think this wasn’t the best idea.” You were decently buzzed yourself, but you still had your wits about you, and you would never forgive yourself if this led to a backslide in Thranduils mental state.

“Darling.” Thranduil clumsily placed a hand on the side of your face. “I’m fine, I promise.” You knew your husband well enough to know he was telling the truth: He was okay. “M’hungry, but m’fine.”

“I’ll go fetch us something to nibble on.” You gave his head a pat before gently pushing it aside so you could stand.

“Nonsense, you are...I will get food.” He declared, launching himself upward.

“Hmmm, maybe you should just stay here and lie down.”

“My love, I am the king.” He took your shoulders and stared deeply into your eyes, as if trying to convince you of this fact. “If I cannot provide for my wife...What am I?” He furrowed his brows, clearly distraught at the idea, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Oh fine, come with me you ridiculous creature.” He preened, taking your hand and tucking it into his elbow with a surprising amount of grace as he led you out of the royal apartments and towards the kitchens.

Springtime would always be your favorite season, but Christmas in the woodland realm would always have a special place in your heart. You passed through the great hall, taking a moment to admire the splendor. Glittering white gems seemed to drip from the ceiling as gold garland coiled around pillars and banisters, while wreaths of fir and holly were expertly strung with delicate glass ornaments enchanted to emit a soft, starlike glow.

“What’s your favorite decoration, love?” Thranduil wrapped his arms around your waist, breath hot on your neck as you both gazed up into the cavernous room.

“Your throne is utterly stunning.” The centerpiece of the room, the throne carved to look like curling antlers, had been bedecked in emerald green and silver.

“Mmm. So it is.” Your husband began, with what you were sure he considered subtlety, to pull you towards the archway that separated the next room. “Would you like to know what mine is?”

“You’re dragging me.”

“I would never drag you, darling.” He feigned offense. “I’m...encouraging you.”

“We’re going to trip.” The way he was still curled around you, combined with the sideways steps he was forcing you to take had you worried that your elven agility might fail you at any moment.

“You haven’t asked me.” He finally released you, though a hand on your wrist kept guiding you towards the archway.

“Of course, Thranduil, my drunken fool of a husband, what is your favorite Christmas decoration?”

“This one.” He pointed up, to where a brilliant burst of foliage and ribbon was hung, a cluster of off-white berries hanging beneath, just so.

“Well then.” You clasped your hands behind his neck, gazing up at him. “You dragged me all the way over here for a kiss?”

“Naturally.”

“When I would have happily given you one if you asked?”

“Naturally.” He rested his finger and thumb on your chin, leaning in and kissing you softly and sweetly. “Merry Christmas, starlight.”

“Merry Christmas.”

[pjwritingblog]

pssst. the christmas imagines are coming. 

[pjwritingblog]

Imagine Thranduil being there for you during a really hard time in your life, holding you in his arms while you cry

“I will leave you.” Legolas tried to hide the wetness in his own eyes, shimmying his way out of the tree. ���Please try to come to dinner! Do not push away your family, mellon.” He called upwards before making his way back towards the kingdom. You didn’t bother responding. You knew you probably would not come down for dinner, would probably fall asleep in the tree, would not come down until forced.

Your mother had died.

It was unusual for elves to die, except at war, and times had been peaceful. But your mother had been severely injured by some creature of the forest during an innocent stroll, by the time she was found there was nothing to be done.

Your first and only instinct had been to retreat into a nice, tall tree and wait until the pain passed. If it ever would. Of course Legolas has found you almost immediately, allowing you to cry on his shoulder. He, too, wept. Your mother had been best friends with the late queen, and you and Legolas had grown up together. Your father had died with his mother, so the two of you, your mother, and Thranduil had formed a new family of sorts.

Hours came and went, and night began to fall. You heard the crunching of leaves, someone was approaching. “Legolas?”

“You cannot stay up there all night.” A slow, wise voice called.

“Sure I can.”

“Y/N, please. Let me help.”

“There is nothing you can do to bring her back.” A sob escaped your throat, and fresh, hot tears began to fall.

“No, there is not. But we can stay together, as she would have wanted us to.”

“I am not coming down.” You sounded like a child, but you didn’t care.

“Very well.” You heard a rustling, and looked down. Thranduil, in his fine silver robes, was climbing up the tree. Even he could not quite make it seem graceful. After a few minutes, his face popped up next to yours, and he hoisted himself onto the thick, steady branch. “There.”

“Well, that was impressive.”

“You think I have never climbed a tree?” There was quiet for a few minutes, then he spoke again. “I will not leave you, Henig.” Those words caused you to break again, weeping loudly into your hands. “Come here.” He held out his arms to you, and you leaned against his chest.

You do not know how long it was that you lie there, Thranduil gently running his hand along your hair, whispering gentle sounds of comfort. One thing he kept repeating, somehow knowing that it was just the thing you needed to hear. “You are not alone.”

[pjwritingblog]

Imagine Thorin during the Quest, trying to think up ways on how to ask you if he could braid your hair

“Y/N, your hair.” Thorin pointed towards you, and you put your hands up, feeling your braid, which was now half-undone.

“Oh. Thanks.” You pulled the ribbon from it, letting it fall loose.

“No problem.” He bit his lip, walking away. You shrugged, beginning to re-plait it. Several days later, when you ended up in Rivendell, the kind elves had tried to twist your hair into an elaborate knot, but your thick dwarvish curls proved too coarse for them to deal with. When you rejoined the group, Thorin scoffed. “These elves think they can tame your hair?”

“Well, they tried their best,” You reached up to dismantle the hairdo, letting your hair fall loose, “To be fair, it is quite thick.”

“Any dwarf worth his salt can braid the thickest curls.”

“That reminds me, Ori? Could you teach me that thing you do?” You walked towards him, leaving Thorin muttering under his breath.

Another week or so, and you managed to twist your wrist, making it difficult for you to reach behind your head to make even the simplest of braids. “Can I offer help?” Thorin placed a hand on your shoulder, startling you.

“Oh, no. I’m sure you have plenty of other things to attend to, far more important than my hair. I’ll just leave it down.” Thorin hmphed and stormed off. “Well. That was odd.” You commented to Balin, who was nearby. He chuckled.

“You really do not know?”

“Know what?” Was there yet another dwarf custom you didn’t know about? Spending almost all your time dealing with the sick and wounded  left you a bit of a social outcast.

“Braiding a woman's hair is how a dwarf declares intention.” He explained.

“Intention?” You furrowed your brows in confusion.

“It seems you have captured Thorins eye.” Balin grinned.

“You mean...He is trying to court me?” You cheeks flushed.

“Yes, my dear. And I would not snub him again, if I were you.”

“THORIN!” You called into the campsite. “I CHANGED MY MIND. COME BRAID MY HAIR. PLEASE.”