#La Ruana

[waitingonavision]

Chubby little rat Bruno 💚

He looked better without the ruana, but it felt weird leaving him completely naked 😂

[cmonstah]

"I remember talking to [curator] Rita Gonzalez around the time of 'Phantom Sightings' and describing it as 'Mango Modernism.' I’m, like, give me something with color and a mango print and it makes me happy. But it was also a political move against the hegemony of black and white."

A detail of Carolyn Castaño's "Mantel," 2022. On view in the solo exhibition, "Future Ruana," at Walter Maciel Gallery through Oct. 29, 2022.

Photo by me. My Q&A with Carolyn in the L.A. Times can be found here.

[a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives]

Article from Mail about Andrew Wincott in Colombia (scroll down to read the article)

Coming soon to The Archers...Adam Macy's cocoa farm in Colombia!

written by Andrew Wincott for Mail on Sunday Travel (31 March 2014)

Radio star Andrew Wincott is bewitched and bedazzled by a historic and colorful corner of South America

Oh dear! Really? Are you quite sure?' Such were the reactions of various acquaintances to my announcement that I was planning a trip to Colombia.

The fact that I have friends in Bogota didn't assuage their anxieties. And now even I started to imagine scenarios in which, having been kidnapped by some paramilitary renegades, I could possibly negotiate some sort of communication line down which I could record scenes for The Archers from my cell in Bogota. Perhaps Adam could have been on a trip researching cocoa farming, I reflected, and found himself deludedly diverted towards coca instead.

Such is the curious blurring between fiction and reality in The Archers that stranger things have happened.

Bogota is a dynamic city with a chaotic character all its own. At 8,500ft above sea level you would think the head-rush would be mandatory. The rush is all in the traffic: buses veer, bikes swerve, taxis vie for fares across choked lanes.

But in the tranquil historic neighbourhood of La Candelaria you escape to the city's Spanish colonial past. Amid the teeming hordes of students, travellers and local Bogotanos, the gold exhibits of the Museo D'Oro, such as the pre-Colombian gold raft sculpture from the Muisca era, are dazzling.

Alternatively one can enjoy the whimsical wit of Colombia's most famous artist, Botero. His porcine figures are found in a museum named after him and built around a charming 18th Century courtyard. Also housed here is part of Botero's personal art collection, including works by Monet, Renoir, Chagall, Miro, and Dali.

Taking in the view: Andrew at the Iglesia de Monserrate overlooking Bogota.

In the nearby Plaza de Bolivar I saw a llama sauntering by - they are used to give rides to giggling tourists. On one corner stands the Museo de la Independencia, housing artefacts and exhibits that fascinatingly illustrate the story of the 1810 Revolution: how the fight for independence began and how, some might contend, it is still being fought today.

Looking up from the plaza - high in the mountains to the east - you see the Iglesia de Monserrate, which is accessible within minutes by cable car. Here you find a sanctuary of tranquillity and spirituality, as though one has risen above the city while its secular urban unreality sprawls magnificently but chaotically across the plateau below.

If the tumult of Bogota becomes too much, a mere hour away lies Zipaquira and its cathedral, one of the most startling buildings in the world. With ingenuity, vision and audacity, a cavernous expanse 600ft below ground has been carved from a salt mine to form a space for worship.

Such is the combination of iconography, natural forms, colours, and carvings that you feel you're in a sodium-chloride art installation.

It's extraordinary to imagine that on Sundays and holy days 3,000 people come here to worship.

At Guatavita, the legend of El Dorado resonates from the pre-Colombian past. Cradled by crater walls is the lake on to which the Muisca tribe rowed their new cacique (king) on a raft before ritually immersing him, naked and covered in gold dust. In further homage, thousands of gold offerings were thrown into the lake by members of the tribe surrounding the shores.

Across the mountains, through the valleys, past polytunnels (Adam would have been pleased to note) the poncho - or ruana - wearing farmers tend the fields, ride horseback or stroll as though time has stopped. Being on the road is an experience in itself. Away from Bogota, down from the plateau and the temperate high ground, the temperature rises.

Roadside grills offer chorizos, chicken and cold beers to slake the thirst. Dogs slumber, sheltering in doorways to escape the heat while cats watch from the shadows.

If it's history you crave, about 90 miles from Bogota, in the Andes near Tunja, there is a tiny bridge over the Teatinos River, marking the site where the Battle of Boyaca was fought.

Here in August 1819 a decisive victory was won against the Spanish in the war for independence - with the help of the British - an event marked by imposing monuments to the generals Bolívar and Santander.

Soon you reach the white-washed walls, red-tiled roofs and cobblestone streets of Villa de Leyva, a preserved colonial town which, since 1954, has been a national monument.

The 17th Century architecture, featuring cool arcaded courtyards, fountains, and flower-festooned columns, is unspoilt. Dancing in the square and drinking aguardiente in the bars around here seem like timeless nocturnal pursuits.

Further afield, an hour's flight from Bogota on the shores of the Caribbean, lies the Unesco World Heritage site of Cartagena, a beautifully restored jewel of a walled Spanish city with perhaps the most impressive fortifications in Latin America, the Castillo de San Felipe de Barajas.

The stature of the walls and the tunnels beneath help the visitor understand why it was virtually impossible to defeat the Spanish here, and why they stayed until the 19th Century.

At night the sun-drenched Plaza de la Santisima Trinidad is transformed into a natural theatre. All life is here. Children race, dogs strut like horses, folk reflect and ruminate.

Locals and travellers mix over a beer bought from the shop across the square and a hot dog from a stand.

If you fancy a cocktail, perhaps a cuba libre, you can try to wake the old girl slumbering behind her stall to mix one.

Colombia is a country that defies expectations. It will bewitch and bedazzle you. The countryside is timeless and you'll find pure pleasure in the tranquillity and variety of the landscape and the charm of its people. If you're looking to escape from the greyness of the commonplace, the warmth, colour and natural beauty of Colombia elevate it to the dimension of another world. I shall certainly be going back.

Maybe that cocoa farm of Adam's wasn't such a bad idea after all.

[igetthedisneybox]

Future Madrigal Grandkid Designs

My concept art au (still needs a name lol) takes place roughly twenty-seven years in the future, so I figured I'd make some future redesigns for the grandkids.

I used this maker https://www.dolldivine.com/la-colombiana, and I did the best with what I had. I photoshoped Camilo and Antonio a bit, since the maker doesn't have a ton of masc options

Isabela, age forty-eight.

I kept her new colors of sharp blue and purple, as well as the explosive colors from her flowers.

Her apron was made by Mirabel, and it resembles their mothers'.

She's barefoot so she can feel the soil beneath her feet.

At this point in her life, she's a single mother of three (by choice) so she's matured a bit, but still has that wild aspect to her.

Dolores, age forty-eight.

I kept her colors, obviously. Her necklace was a gift from Mariano, and her earrings are Alma's.

She takes after a lot Alma in the outfit department. She's giving matronly, but not too old.

She still likes her bows though! If you don't see her wearing a bow somewhere, it's a sad, sad day.

Luisa, age forty-six.

Okay, I know she doesn't look anything like Luisa, the maker only had one body type, work with me here.

I imagine after her workload gets smaller, she'd allow herself to indulge a bit in more "delicate" or "pretty" things, that she couldn't while she was Being Strong 24/7.

Her dress is fancier, her hair is down, and she's wearing pearls.

She still owns a few "work" dresses, but outfits like these are for herself.

Camilo, age forty-two.

Camilo was hard to make, okay? Not many masc options, so he kinda dresses the same as he did when he was fifteen lol.

He grew his hair out, just because, and he wears it in a bun most of the time.

He has a mustache like Félix (and his height lmao)

I think he'd keep his Ruana, like his uncle Bruno.

Mirabel, age forty-two.

She still embroiders, and did so to her adult dress.

The butterflies and style of the dress are a tribute to Alma (who isn't dead yet, but is very very old)

She got new glasses (still broke them too lol) and grew her hair out.

Not much else to say about her?

Antonio, age thirty-two.

He was easier to make than Camilo lol.

Has a bit of a goatee, again, like Félix, and his hairstyle is also very much like his father's.

Kept the vest/shirt thing he has going on. If it ain't broke, right?

His bag is full of animal food for his friends.

That's all I got for now.

[eliana55226838]

un dibujo de Imura, querrera Quimbaya de Colombia. tiene una gran pasion, es artista, adora dibujar sobre las piedras, ella misma confecciono su atuendo. inteligente pero bastante terca y ruda, ella no lo piensa dos veces si pretende atacar al enemigo, y para ellas, todo lo que se mueva es el enemigo. XD

 Zazipa estaría tipo : mira, mi deber es viajar y hablar con las comunidades, si los matas no cumpliré mi misión... entonces ¿¿PODRIAS DE DEJAR DE ATACAR A TODOS???

Datazo: Imura casi siempre usa una ruana y una mascara de guerra para ocultar su rostro.

[waltfrasescazadordepalabras]

Para el viento, una cometa Para el lienzo, un pincel Para la siesta, una hamaca Para el alma, un pastel Para el silencio una palabra Para la oreja, un caracol Un columpio pa' la infancia Y al oído un acordeón Para la guerra, nada Para el sol, un caleidoscopio Un poema para el mar Para el fuego, una guitarra Y mi voz para cantar Para el verano bicicletas Y burbujas de jabón Un abrazo pa' la risa Para la vida, una canción Para la guerra, nada Para el viento, un ringlete Pa'l olvido, un papel Para amarte, una cama Para el alma, un café Para abrigarte, una ruana Y una vela pa' esperar Un trompo para la infancia Y una cuerda pa' saltar Para la guerra, nada Para el cielo, un telescopio Una escafandra, para el mar Un buen libro para el alma Una ventana pa' soñar Para el recreo, una pelota Y barquitos de papel Un buen mate pa'l invierno Para el barco, un timonel Para la guerra, nada Para la guerra, nada Para la brisa una pluma Para el llanto una canción Para la guerra, nada Para el insomnio la Luna

Marta Gómez

[usedtobeguest123]

Hello :)

I'm usedtobeguest123 (...because I ghosted around as guest123 on A03 before creating an account for myself 😁). You can call me Tooby.

I love writing and am dabbling with art (newbie). Feel free to shoot me Encanto writing or art prompts--family fluff is my jam. I have tiny little humans I care for and sometimes go on long hiatuses, but I'm still around. Sometimes I also post for Malevolent.

A probably maybe [not] updated masterlist of my stuff below the cut. My tag system is chaotic and unorganized, but you can try searching #my art and #my writing too.

Writing

Current fic: La Traes - This is the sequel to my first fic, Bruno from Before, but you could probably read it on its own. La Traes is the spanish name for the childhood game of tag, but it literally means "You carry it." This fic follows the (fluffy) relationship between Bruno, Mirabel, and Antonio, and is an experiment where I work through how trauma can rob us of childhood, and how we might possibly heal and get a little bit of it back.

Bruno from Before - My first fic! It takes place about 7 months after the movie. An exploration of Mirabel and Bruno's relationship post movie. Mirabel begins to learn more about Bruno from before the walls and is determined to help him find his way back.

Alma, After - I love Alma's character. This is a little dabble I wrote about her grief, and it ended up being a bit of a epilogue to Bruno from Before. Chronologically, it hits somewhere in the middle of La Traes.

Quiet - A collection of Encanto one-shots. They started out having the theme of "quiet," but it's really just a place for me to put my little snippets of writing :)

A Little Wasted Time - A one-shot where Mirabel and Camilo talk it out. It's a bit of a deleted scene from Bruno from Before.

How Are You Feeling, Hermano? - A one-shot I wrote after seeing this AMAZING art by @junosaccount. Bruno is sick and Julieta is there to do what she does best.

The Time You Give Me - Bruno - A super fun collab I did with the lovely @breannasfluff 💚 The pairing is a fun look into the mind of an introvert (Bruno) and an extrovert (Mirabel) who care about each other. This is the introvert side. Make sure to read Breanna's, too!

El Milagro de la Bebé - My fic for the @encantobigbang! Dolores is worried about her Mamá, and to help her she seeks out the most okayest man for the job - Tío Bruno. Pranks and family fluff ensue. Check out @lunaencantada's AMAZING art that goes with it!

You can find more of my little tumblr only one-shots under Encantober below.

Art

Current Project: A Bruno-centric animatic that I started for @wdtajn. I swear I will finish it eventually! You can see my progress here, and here, and here, and here, too. EDIT: It's done!

Julieta, Bruno, and Pepa as kids having a slumber party

My first Encanto fanart ever, a DTIYS from @glitternightingale

You can find more of my artsy things under Encantober below.

💚💚Fanart by Others💚💚 - These have my WHOLE heart, for reals.

Bruno and young Mirabel from Chapter 4 of Quiet by @junosaccount

The trio at a picnic from Chapter 1 of La Traes by @junosaccount (and the lineart version, which shows the amazing detail on Bruno's ruana from Bruno from Before 😍)

The trio in a tree from Chapter 2 of La Traes by @junosaccount

Mirabel and Abuela from Chapter 6 of La Traes by @junosaccount

Encantober 2022 - @encantober-official

Writing:

Transformation (An Encanto Music Analysis)

Healing

Butterfly

Change

Milk

Strength

Cacti

Head Pats

Animals

Caterpillar

Tragedy

Gift

Pranks

Generational Trauma

Otter

Art:

Rats

Love (Peanuts Style)

Parents

Hugs

Casita

Bees

Tired

Prophecy

Present

Kiss

Book

Thanks for visiting :)

[immabethehero]

Encantober Day 29 - Parents

Full disclosure this is an AU in which the miracle still happened but Pedro survived and found himself in the Encanto scarred but alive a few days later

Also! Part one is inspired by this cute fan video

~~~~~

On a warm evening, with nothing else to do, the parents and grandparents (for the fifth time!!!) decide it’s time for the youngest to undergo the Test.

Mirabel, two years old, must choose who her favourite father figure is.

Agustín, Bruno, Félix and Pedro stand apart from each other in the courtyard of Casita, with Julieta holding a squirmy Mirabel in her arms at the front door. Pepa holds a camera, ready to capture the action. Alma sits on a chair nearby, a cup of tea in her hands.

“Ready? Go, Mirabel, go!” Julieta sets her down. The toddler screeches with glee as she runs straight to Tío Bruno and begins pulling at his ruana. The prophet can only laugh in shock and nerves as he picks the little girl up. Beside him, Agustín looks ready to cry.

Pepa and Julieta howl with laughter, the latter too amused to acknowledge her husband’s pain. Félix is not any better, chuckling as he joins Alma in the living room.

Pedro comes up behind Agustín and pats his back. “First time?” Agustín squeaks.

“Don’t worry, she still loves you as her father,” Pedro says. “She just has… skewed priorities at this stage in life.”

“Oh, don’t go putting ideas into his head,” Alma teasingly snaps. She turns to the other grown-ups with a mischievous grin. “Did I ever tell you about the triplets’ parental preferences when they were babies?”

“I don’t think so,” Bruno says as he untangles his hair from Mirabel’s fingers. “But now I’m intrigued.”

“Please don’t start!” Pedro begs.

“The triplets had just learned how to crawl…” Alma begins loud enough for everyone to hear.

*

“Alright, you’ve had enough time with Bruno, it’s time for some father-son bonding time,” Pedro says one late afternoon. The two girls play on the floor, engaged in a war with a big blanket. Bruno has demanded Alma’s attention, resting against her chest as she rubs his back.

Alma raises an eyebrow. “Alright, but fair warning, I think he’s already picked his favourite parent.”

Pedro scoffs. “Impossible! I’m his dad, we’re the only boys in the house! That’s something we can bond over!”

“I don’t think sharing a gender is going to get you very far in terms of building a healthy relationship,” Alma admits, holding Bruno out.

Pedro picks him up in a shoulder hold, smiling. “Watch me.”

Immediately, Bruno begins crying. Pedro startles at his son’s loud wailing. Bouncing him up and down, Pedro shushes Bruno in vain. Almost immediately, Julieta and Pepa begin screaming as well, almost as if they feel the pain of their brother.

Alma gives Pedro a dagger-piercing glare. Pedro smiles sheepishly.

“Don’t say anything yet!” he splutters. “Maybe Bruno is just gassy. I’ve got this!”

Pedro soon learns that he doesn’t got this. While Alma is quickly able to calm their daughters down, Pedro spends an agonizing five minutes trying to comfort Bruno in vain. The baby squirms in his father’s grasp, screaming the whole time.

Pedro finally gives up and hands Bruno back to Alma’s waiting arms. The minute Bruno feels his mother’s embrace, his sobs slowly subside.

Alma smirks at her husband, who wears a goofy pout.

“Fine, but- at least I have Pepa and Julieta! They’ve already established themselves as las princesitas de papá,” Pedro declares, sitting on the floor next to his daughters. Pepa proceeds to crawl away from her dad and towards Alma, Julieta is not far behind.

Alma’s laughter only gets louder as Pedro dramatically collapses to the ground in defeat.

[breannasfluff]

Otter: Encantober 19

New Pets

“Hey, tío—WOAH.” Mirabel stops, staring at Bruno as he walks in. “What is…that.”

He stares back, nonplussed. “What’s what?”

“That…animal. On your shoulder. In your arms. You wanna, uh, explain?”

“The otters?” Bruno tilts his head, then pauses when he bumps into the animal draped around his neck like a scarf. It squeaks.

“Yes, the otters. Where did you get otters? Why do you have otters?” She waves her hand at him when he continues to stand and stare. “Where and why, tío, spit it out!”

“Antonio, and because they are cute.” Bruno pats the one in his arms, looking smug.

Mirabel makes an inarticulate squawk at the lack of information. “What do they eat?”

“Salmon, among other things.”

“Salmon. In Colombia.”

His smug smile increases. “Casita provides.”

Giving up on the logistics of the oddity, Mirabel walks over to look over his two new pets. “They are…pretty cute.”

The otters’ black eyes are framed by a multitude of whiskers, hallowing their chin and eyes. Darker fur forms a little mask over cream before fading into brown and gray. The otter in Bruno’s arms yawns, showing off tiny sharp teeth and a pink mouth. The one on his shoulder snuffles beneath his curls, letting out a periodic squeak.

Mirabel can’t help but melt at the sight. “What are their names?”

He grins at her, delighted in the interest. “Poco and Churri. We’re going to have a lot of fun together.”

Music Box

“Tio? What’s—”

“Shh!”

Mirabel pauses, cut off in her sentence to find Bruno laying on a rug in la sala. His ruana is on the floor and the otters are nesting in it. Nearby is the object she was asking about; a music box.

“Tio?” She tries again, softer. “What’s with the music box? It’s been playing over and over.”

Bruno turns to grin at her, curls falling into his eyes. “The otters like it. Come here.”

She joins up, dropping slowly to the carpet. Churri climbs into her lap, rolling in Mirabel’s skirt and showing off her fat little tummy. Poco stays in Bruno’s ruana, curling up in the folds of fabric and blinking at them.

Reaching down, Mirabel scratches Churri’s belly, eliciting a series of squeaks and squirms. The fur is soft beneath the pads of her fingers and a little damp; they must have been swimming earlier.

Poco yawns, showing off tiny sharp teeth. He burrows into Bruno’s ruana, pulling at the fabric to adjust it to his liking.

“You’re going to get holes like that,” she points out.

He shrugs, caught up in watching. “You’ll have to make me a new ruana.”

“I could make them their own ruana.”

Laughing softly, Bruno reaches out to flip part of the fabric over Poco. The otter flails beneath the fabric and then settles. He pokes his head out, white whiskers framing his face.

Churri’s squeaks die off with the constant attention; a warm lump in Mirabel’s lap.

“Watch.” Bruno picks up the music box, turning the mechanism to wind it up. The sound of a lullaby fills the air, plucked out in metallic notes. Both otters’ heads pop up at the sound, Churri straining slightly to glance over Mirabel’s leg. Poco quickly retreats into the ruana again.

The melody continues and the otters’ eyes start to close. Mirabel keeps up a soft stroke on Churri’s belly. Poco continues to squirm from time to time in his makeshift nest, but when she looks down, Churri’s eyes are closed.

Bruno notices and grins at her. “See?” he whispers. “It puts them to sleep, no matter how many times I play it. They love it.”

She has to withhold her yawn as the lullaby drifts through the air. The warm air of late afternoon adds to the state of relaxation.

“I see what you mean, tío. This? This is perfect.”

Bruno rests his head on a fist and reaches out with the other to run a careful hand across Poco’s head. The otter shuts his eyes, leaning into the sensation. After another two repetitions of the music box, he’s asleep as well.

Quietly, Bruno winds it up again and they settle in to relax together.

For the last otter story, find it on A03 HERE!

[waitingonavision]

Pancita Poem

Today, 10/25, is @empty-cryptid​‘s and my birthday! (We just happen to share the same one. 😄) So we decided to collaborate on a poem celebrating Bruno’s belly and the history of the pancita lore in the Encanto fandom. We hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it! 💚

...

It started out a great mystery; Just go through the fandom's history! A conundrum placed above the rest: Dare we hope to complete the quest?

What the fandom wanted found: Is Bruno's middle cute and round? Or could it perhaps be utterly flat? (Or worse… oh no– A six-pack?)

Oh, what does that ruana hide? When he twirls, stops and looks aside. On the last note, letting out a final sigh; His tummy relaxes and a smile comes by.

Collecting evidence, we looked for more; An animation video added to the lore. The belly on Bruno’s model stuck out. We must be onto something, no doubt!

Tumblr began buzzing, AO3 followed suit; With a movement quickly taking root. Despite Bruno’s belly still being a query; For plenty of us, it was beyond just a theory.

So on Twitter, too, we rose to the task. About the mystery “tío gut” we did ask. Oh, Jared Bush, could you help us please? Only you can set our restless minds at ease.

Well, we never got an answer from JB. (His true opinion remains in secrecy.) No matter, the fandom continues to cry: “Viva la pancita de Bruno!” to the sky!

Art, fics, headcanons, spread widely ‘round! How fun is the pancita party we’ve found! Everyone’s welcome, and the family grew, (Just like Bruno’s belly when it’s full of stew.)

People shout, “Bruno needs to be healthy!” Writers, artists, and more create content proudly. “Quick, make it true,” everybody proclaims. The fandom gives his tummy some fame.

Sopancita? Yes, it is true indeed! That figurine we all in the fandom just need, With a soup bowl in hand, going way too deep. In his stomach it sits, nice and warm, he will keep.

The new doll, as well, uncovers a tidbit. A belly’s revealed just to prove it. Now which clothes fit best on this Tío Bruno? The fandom will definitely make some, you know!

A Bruno pillow for little Antonio’s head to rest. That belly’s always full of Juli’s cooking—the best! Luisa needn’t worry ‘cause he’s got safety padding. The Madrigals’ support for the tío tum is everything!

It's too tempting to squish his cheeks, Or poke his belly so he squeaks. His form has filled out rather well, There’s more to hug, you can really tell.

It’s all in fun, just hug the tum! Only free him when you’re done. Give him a squeeze without apprehension, This cuddly tío loves the affection.

[pobreydelicado]

Algo bien 😌

[capypub]

Dancing with the Double-Edged Sword (Ch. 14)

Bruno Madrigal x Original Female Character

Chapter Rating: M (smut of course...and some alcohol/recreational drug use)

(Masterlist)

(not gonna lie, this is unedited, so bear with me...)

Dinner at the La Casa Madrigal had become somewhat routine for Mila. The enchanted house had even started setting a place for her beside Bruno, even on the days she didn’t dine with them. Augustin and Felix had also become familiar to her, the three of them having grown close after spending so much time with the family and sharing similar feelings as being the partner of a “magical Madrigal” without the magic. 

“Mila, mi cuñada, what’s going on, chica?” Felix bellowed as she entered Casita with her hand intertwined with Bruno’s. 

“¿Quiubo, perce?” she laughed, embracing Felix in a warm hug. 

“Same old, same old,” he laughed, returning to Pepa who had been reading on the sofa.

           Mila engaged her just as warmly with a peck on the cheek and similar greeting. Bruno kept close to Mila, always lingering near her even in his own home. He hesitantly placed a hand on the small of her back, receiving a sweet smile and kiss on the cheek in return as she leaned more into him. They sat with Pepa and Felix for a few minutes, talking and exchanging pleasantries before the other couple left to walk around the market before dinner. 

           Mila helped Bruno feed the rats after they left, sitting with him on the floor of his bedroom and scattering pieces of bread and cheese. After the mischief had been fed, the couple settled in one of the hammocks Bruno had hung around the ground floor of Casita, cuddled together, just enjoying being close to each other. Whether he intentionally chose a hammock in one part of the house that wasn’t frequently passed through. She rested her head on his chest, being lulled into a relaxed state by the light rock of the hammock and the occasional breeze that drifted over them from the nearby window. 

“Augustin is going to propose tonight,” Bruno murmured, sounding like he was on the brink of sleep, even after they had just come from a siesta in the field. 

“How do you know that?” she asked softly, lifting her head from his chest. 

“He told me,” he shrugged, stifling a yawn, “yesterday.” 

“And you’re just now telling me?” she gasped with an excited smile, playfully shoving his arm. 

“I just remembered,” he admitted bashfully, twirling a strand of her hair between his fingers. 

“So…how do you feel about that?” she asked, surprised by how casual he seemed talking about his sister’s engagement. 

“He’s good for her,” he said, “I’m glad it’s him,” he added with a slight nod. 

“How long do you think it will take your mother to have the wedding planned and ready?” she asked, her voice laced with teasing amusement.

Bruno scoffed. “If she has it her way, the wedding will be huge, an entire week of celebration,” he said, making her laugh, “I’m serious,” he insisted over her fit of giggles, “the whole Encanto will be invited and celebrating for days, I don’t need a vision to know it’s going to happen,” he chuckled as her laughter died down.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?,” she sighed, finally catching her breath. 

He grinned at her, pulling her back into his chest. “And you love it,” he said, kissing the top of her head. 

“You’re right,” she giggled, nuzzling his collarbone. 

“I love you,” he sighed, his amusement shifting into lovesick adoration as he smiled. 

“I love you too,” she purred into his neck, her lips kissing the skin just below his earlobe. 

“Estrella,” he sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he tilted his head back to expose more of his neck to her, feeling her mouth trail down to his pulse and across the hollow of his throat, causing shivers of pleasure to run down his spine.  

“Feels good?” she muttered against the base of his throat, her fingertips slipping under his ruana to play with the buttons of his shirt. 

“Mhm,” he agreed, the noise coming out more whiny and desperate than he intended, but it felt too good for him to care at this point. 

“You want me to keep going?” she asked, the tip of her tongue dragging from his collarbone to his earlobe, where she nipped it lightly with her teeth. 

“Please,” he insisted, his grip tightening on her as he shuddered, the cool air blowing against the wet path of saliva on his skin heightening his growing desire. 

“Bruno!¿Dónde estás, mijo?” Alma’s voice rang through the first floor near them. 

           The couple immediately pulled away from each other, Bruno jumping out of the hammock, expecting to find his mother standing over them, staring harshly at her youngest so intimately intertwined with his novia. Thankfully, she wasn’t, but that didn’t keep Bruno’s anxiety from spiking at the idea. 

“Uh, uh, aquì, mamá,” he called back, nervously shifting side to side as he waited for his mother to find them. 

“Ah, there you are, mi vida, oh Mila, hello to you too, mijita,” she greeted the pair, “Brunito, can you please start setting the table? Mila, will you help him, por favor? Pepa and Felix should be on their way back, dinner will be ready soon,” she explained, patting both of them on the cheek affectionately. 

“Claro, mamá,” he nodded, nervously twiddling his fingers. 

         Once she had left them, Bruno turned to Mila with a knowing look. She rolled her eyes at him with a shake of her head, grabbing his hand and leading the way to the dining room. 

“You can’t tell me I’m wrong, you saw how quickly her tone changed,” he said as they continued down a hallway. 

“No matter what you say, it’s not true. She’s only being polite, that’s it,” she huffed.

            Bruno had constantly told Mila during their time together that his mother was only being nicer to him because of his connection to you. While Alma did not view Mila or her family as more special than the next family in the Encanto, the fact that Mila so wholeheartedly cared for her son and brought out the best in him seemed to have an effect on her usual judgemental gaze and unspoken high standards.

“Amor, if I had never met you, she would still be as cold and judgemental as the day I had my first bad vision,” he huffed, rolling his eyes. 

“She’s your mother, amor, I highly doubt her behavior is out of spite,” she said, gently poking him in the side with her free hand. 

“Ask Hernando next time, he’ll agree with me, for once,” Bruno muttered just as they entered the dining room.

They could hear Julie in the kitchen, humming to herself as she cooked. Casita had already started setting the table, rolling plates into their necessary places. Mila went into the kitchen, greeting Julie brightly as she collected utensils and glasses. Bruno trudged behind Mila, trailing after her as they finished, helping Julie set the various dishes on the table after. 

          Sitting next to Bruno, the meal began as normal. Easy chatter about the day and any eventful happenings around the village. Bruno was mostly quiet, only speaking up when asked about something. Mila noticed Alma’s focused gaze on Julie, Augustin eating significantly less than normal beside her as he fidgets with his wine glass. 

“Everything alright, amor?” Julie asked, noticing his strange behavior. 

“Uh, actually, amor, I, uh, I have something to say, uh, to ask, I mean,” he said, slowly standing, pushing his chair back enough to give him room to kneel down. 

          Although they were already aware, Mila still acted surprised. Augustin proposed in a romantic, yet clumsy way, almost bumping into the table and knocking over the glasses. The family surrounded the newly engaged couple, but Mila noticed how Bruno was quick with his congratulations before darting into the kitchen after the meal. No one else seemed to notice, too caught up in the talk of a wedding. After a final few words of encouragement and congratulations, Mila went in search of her novio. Thankfully, she didn’t have to look far, finding him sitting in the kitchen, nursing a cup of guaro and talking to two of his rats. 

“Mi amorcito, you’ve been acting strange all day, are you sure nothing is bothering you?” she cooed, coming up to stop in the space between his legs, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. 

“I’m fine,” he sighed heavily, avoiding her eyes.

“Bruno, please talk to me, I want to help if I can,” she pleaded, hating the lack of mirth in his usually bright eyes. 

“I’m just…ugh,” he groaned, frustrated and at a loss for words. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she purred, running her fingers through his hair, caressing his jaw and forcing his head up to meet her eyes, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I just want to help you feel better,” she insisted, kissing his forehead softly, then his nose and finally grazing her lips against his briefly. 

“C-can we just go upstairs…and cuddle?” he asked timidly, ducking his head in slight embarrassment. 

“That sounds like a perfect idea, there’s yerba in your desk from a couple days ago, maybe smoking might help you relax,” she nodded, taking the cup in his hand and setting it aside.

           She took his hands, lacing their fingers before leading them upstairs. Bruno was so hyper focused on her skin against his own that he didn’t realize they stood in his bedroom until she was pulling him into his bed, still made from this morning, to settle in the center of the full-size mattress. He felt his nerves begin to rise, a buzzing energy radiating from his stomach out to his fingertips. Laying back, he attempted to take a deep breath, curling his arm around Mila as she curled into his side, tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder. She wrapped her arm around his torso, her leg curling around his own, her knee hooked loosely around his opposite thigh. 

“Should we smoke or do you want to wait until everyone goes to bed?” she asks softly, nuzzling into his neck. 

“Probably after they go to bed,” he responded, still sounding a little dazed as he felt her nod against his jaw. 

“I love you,” she said softly, littering gentle kisses along his neck.

“I-I…I love you too,” he responded, turning slightly towards her and curling his arm around her a little tighter. 

          They laid in silence for a long while, enveloped in the comforting warmth of the bed and each other’s touch. At one point, Bruno wondered if she had fallen asleep. Her occasional head shift or brush of her lips against his jaw alerted him to her still being awake. When an unknown amount of time had passed, Bruno withdrew from her arms and retrieved the supplies from his desk. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he clumsily loaded a bowl of yerba, his fingers slightly trembling as he attempted to do as he had seen her do before. 

“Where did you leave the wine?” he asked softly once he’d successfully packed the ground herb into the bowl.

“Right…here!” she giggled, digging around in his bedside drawer until she pulled out an unlabeled black bottle. 

          He struck a match and took the first hit, inhaling slowly as Mila uncorked the bottle, taking a tentative swig, holding the wine in her mouth just a bit longer than normal to evaluate the test. Bruno exhaled a shaky breath, trying his hardest not to cough too much as he waited for her verdict. He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched her contemplate and evaluate the bottle. She bit her lower lip as she thought, taking another smaller drink, just enough to coat her tongue. Bruno took a second hit from the pipe, now simply admiring her features. 

“It’s…okay…could be better,” she shrugged, offering him the bottle as he passed her the pipe. 

          As they smoked and drank, the quietness of the night began to envelope them in a fuzzy haze. Bruno slowly inched closer to her, and she did the same, both trying to be subtle in their desire for touch. The bottle, almost half empty, was set next to the pipe on his bedside table. Mila’s hands gripped his sleeve and pulled him closer, her body heat radiating through both their clothes.

“Bruno…mi amor,” she spoke softly, her alluring gaze focused on his reaction.

            Bruno felt his mind racing, trying to take in everything that was happening while under the influence of two very relaxing vices.

“Do you want me to rub your shoulders for a bit?” she asked, her hand skimming down his sleeve to rest over his fingers. 

He nodded, his throat dry and breath taken by the suggestiveness of her question 

“You’ve been… so tense today, amor,” she continued, guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed while facing the wall, “maybe I could…help ease some of your stress,” she suggested, moving to kneel behind him, her hands ghosting over his sleeves and shoulders and into his hair to scratch soft circles into his scalp. 

          Bruno sighed in content, consumed by the pure bliss that came from her nails scratching his scalp just enough to feel almost euphoric. He felt her lips brush the side of his neck, her hands moving down from his scalp to his chest, her nails lightly scratching the fabric of his shirt. Leaning further into her, Bruno could feel the growing desire between his legs, the familiar fire heightening his senses to every touch she gave him. 

          She gripped his shoulders, massaging the muscles with her fingertips. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to fall into the deep end of his growing lust. The sudden realization that he was  feeling her chest brushing against his back had him tensing briefly before he relaxed again as she cooed sweetly in his ear, her lips nipping his earlobe as she continued to work out the tension in his shoulder blades. He exhaled a shaky breath, his body too warm for his own comfort as he felt his nerves begin to build in his legs and travel up, mixing chaotically with his desire. 

“Te amo,” she said against the shell of his ear, her mouth dropping to graze his jaw and then his neck. 

“T-te amo,” he repeated, his hands beginning to tremble slightly as she slipped her hands under his shirt, her skin soft on his shoulders. 

“Do you want me to stop, papí?” she asked him, her voice low and alluring as she stroked his skin under his shirt.

Bruno swore under his breath, his eyes closing and a hard shiver ran down his spine at the term and the sensation of her nails lightly scratching along his chest. She dragged her nails up and out of his shirt, her fingers lightly skimming his arms. He itched to touch her too, to feel her skin and hear her pretty sounds. 

“Bruno?” she asked, a hint of concern laced in her tone when he didn’t respond to her.

“N-no, don’t stop…please,” he said quickly, turning to meet her eyes. 

She smirked, amused and just as eager to jump on him and submit to the growing sexual tension in the room. At the same time, Bruno was not like Hernando. He was much more hesitant and easily overwhelmed. She considered her next move carefully, not wanting to move faster than he was comfortable with, but also incredibly desperate to feel him where she ached. 

“Do you want to touch me, amor?” she asked softly, reaching for his hand, resting her own over it.

Bruno nods mutely, raising a shaking hand to her hip, where he grips the fabric at first and then relaxes his hand to spread his fingers and palm over the curve of her side. She waits. His fingers poke under the fabric and he softly gasps at the feeling of her warmth. As a signal of her approval, she began playing with his hair, running her fingers through the ends at the nape of his neck as he continued to get comfortable with touching so intimately. 

“Do you want to take it off?” she asks as softly as before, raising both her arms to link around his neck as he meets her eyes. 

He looks absolutely stunned, like she’d just spoken a foreign language to him. Leaning closer, she ghosts her lips over his, curious to see if he would take the initiative to continue. He shudders, his grip becoming firmer as she begins to pull back. 

“W-want to make you feel good,” he murmurs under his breath, his eyes wide and nervous, but his hands begin to work the laces and buttons of her clothing until she’s able to easily slip the material off. 

“I want to make you feel good too,” she purrs, laying back on the mattress, stretching provocatively just to entice him a little more, reaching a hand out to him. 

Bruno feels like he might faint with how little air he’s taking in as she lays out for him, presenting her nearly bare form so elegantly, so…erotically. He skims his fingertips up from her knee, along her thigh, over her chest and comes to a stop at her jaw, cupping her cheek and leaning over her for a heated kiss. 

The surprise was evident from her soft gasp. Bruno’s touch was so different, even though he and Hernando shared the same hands. He moved like he was scared to break her, like he was appreciating each brush of skin. He kissed her so fervently, like she was the only thing keeping him grounded. He made a small noise when she brought her hand up to grip his curls and tug. Pulling back, she watches his nervous gaze move across her face and down to her chest where he attempts to not let his eyes linger too long by glancing frantically around her body at the sheets. 

“You can look, osito,” she chuckled softly, her tone sweet and warm, “you can touch too,” she added, batting her lashes and gently biting her lower lip. 

“Me tragó,” he murmurs, looking straight into her eyes, his own slightly glowing in the dimly lit room. 

          Raising a shaking hand to her thigh again, he feels along her leg a bit more firmly than the first time. Exhaling softly, she closes her eyes and enjoys his gentle touches and caresses. Bruno seemed absolutely content to just drag his fingers over her skin, appreciating each curve and dip. She feels him hesitate when his hand inches up to her hip, nearing the last article of clothing on her. His throat is dry as he tries to swallow his nerves. He can feel her eyes on him, waiting patiently for his next move. 

“I, uh, I’m…” he gulps, glancing up at her briefly, “I…I don’t want to…mess up,” he admits quietly, beginning to retract his hand as his nerves get the best of him.

“Nothing you do could mess this up, mi amor,” she soothes him, taking his hand back and holding it to her hip, tugging on his arm until he crawls over her, adjusting his knees on either side of her figure as he looks down at her, “just do what feels natural, we don’t have to do everything in one night,” she added, bringing her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a slow and intense kiss. 

Bruno groans, completely submitting to his desire. “I love you,” he mumbles against her mouth, inhaling sharply when her thigh brushes his crotch, “aye…fuck, I love you,” he groans when she does it again. 

“I love you too, mi amor,” she giggles, slipping her hands under his shirt and pulling it up slightly, waiting to see how he would react. 

Bruno kneeled upright for a moment to yank the fabric over his head. His hair becomes ruffled slightly by the force of his actions. His eyes scan her whole figure, attempting to carve her image into his mind forever. 

“Ven, papí,” she purrs, tugging on the waistband of his pants until he resumes his original position, lowering his head to kiss her eagerly.

Whatever Bruno originally expected for the evening was not even close to experiencing the real thing. She showed him bodily pleasures he never knew possible, taking his length into her mouth and working him until he was a gasping, writhing mess under her. He tried to tell her he was going to come, hoping she would stop to prolong their activities, but it only seemed to encourage her to increase her speed and intensity. He came hard with a breathy moan, feeling her tongue lapping at his head as she cleaned him of his release, her hand working the rest of him the entire time. 

“I…I’m sorry f-.”

“Don’t you dare, Bruno,” she cut him off, digging her nails into his thigh slightly to emphasize her point with a playful glare, “Don’t apologize, I did it on purpose because I wanted to make you feel good,” she insisted, leaning down to kiss up his abdomen, over his chest and finally along his neck and collarbone until she reached his mouth. 

“I…I wanted to…mph,” he gasped, feeling her legs settle on either side of him, her covered core grazing his sensitive cock. 

“I know, amor,” she grins, her eyes telling him she knew exactly what he was about to say, that he wanted to make her feel good too, that he wanted to show her the same affection, “how would you like me?” she asked softly, littering a trail of kisses down his jaw and neck. 

Bruno swore, his hands gripping her sides and tightening as she brushed her core against him again. “I, uh, I want to taste you, p-please, mi vida, I need to,” he insisted desperately, looking up at her as she pulled back and grinned, sliding off his lap and settling comfortably on her back.

“Like this?” she asks, slightly spreading her legs to allow him room.

“S-so beautiful,” he said to himself, getting comfortable between her legs as he laid on his stomach, looking over the details of her panties.

He brushed his thumb over the fabric experimentally, gauging her reaction. She sighed, slowly closing her eyes and settling deeper into the pillows. Drawing small circles at first, he experimented with pressure, noticing the effects it had on her. When she began to squirm and breathe heavily, he tentatively hooking a finger on the fabric and pulled it aside, exposing her sex to the warm air and his hungry gaze. 

“Ay, qué rico,” Bruno groans, nipping at her inner thigh to keep from burying his face in her folds like every instinct in his body was screaming at him to do. 

“Por favor, Bruno,” she sighs, pushing down on the waistband of her panties for emphasis.

He manages to slip them off, dropping them near her dress on the floor. Watching her face, he leans in, poking his tongue out for a quick lick up her clit. She gasps softly, her hips twitching in anticipation. Attempting another short lick, he begins to establish something of a rhythm. Her sounds only fueled his confidence as he began to flatten his tongue against her, using his mouth to suck and kiss at her folds. 

“Ah! Like that,” she gasps, her hand coming down to tightly grip his curls as he repeats his actions again and again until she’s practically grinding her core into his wanting mouth, “J-just like that, aye, Bruno, sí, papí,” she cries, a broken moan following shortly after as her thighs clamp tightly around his head as she finds her release. 

Without realizing it, Bruno felt a shudder run down his spine. When he slowed his movements on her, he realized he had begun to grind into the mattress, rutting into his sheets until he came again, shortly after her. She’s panting above him, her body coated in a light layer of sweat. Sitting up, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his pupils blown as he looks down at his softening cock, a few dribbles of his cum at the tip, the rest absorbed into the sheets where a dark spot had formed. 

“T-that…that was amazing,” she giggles once she catches her breath, “you…you are amazing,” she added. 

Sitting up quickly, she reaches for him, tugging him towards her by the wrist until she can kiss him eagerly, her tongue swiping along his lips to taste herself. Bruno whines against her softly, her legs accidentally brushing his sensitive head. 

“How do you feel, amor?” she asks softly, stroking his cheek as she looks at his dark eyes. 

“I’ve never been happier,” he admitted, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into a tight hug, their skin-to-skin contact calming his racing heart. 

“I love you,” she says softly in his ear, kissing his cheek and guiding the both of them to rest under the sheets once they had both cooled down. 

          One would think Bruno would be out almost immediately, but his mind was racing with thoughts and reflections as they laid in the stillness. He would randomly tighten and loosen his grip on her sides under the sheets when his mind began to drift to recalling their activities. She had fallen asleep not long ago, cuddled into his side, nuzzling his neck occasionally. 

Tan travieso, Brunito…

          Hernando’s snarky teasing between his jumping thoughts was not helping either. He’d been fairly quiet lately, but in the late night, when sleep escaped him, Bruno often had Hernando’s company to keep him occupied, much to his dismay. 

“Cállate,” Bruno grumbled, glancing down to make sure he didn’t disturb his lover. 

Now that you’ve had a taste, you’ll never be satisfied, trust me…

“Enough, Nando,” he huffed, squeezing his eyes shut in annoyance. 

“What’s he telling you?” she mumbled softly, making him jump in surprise.

“M-mi estrella, did I wake you?” he asked, glancing down to find her sleepy gaze already on him. 

“He talks to you a lot when you’re alone, doesn’t he?” she questioned softly, ignoring his question as she lifted her head to better hold his gaze. 

Bruno hesitated. “When I can’t sleep, mostly,” he admitted, unsure of how much to disclose about his dynamics with Hernando. 

“What kinds of things does he say to you?” she asks, running her fingers along his jaw and down the nape of his neck in a soothing manner.

“Mostly sarcastic comments,” Bruno shrugs, his gaze dropping to her collarbone.

“Hmm, what else?” 

“S-sometimes, I guess he says things that are…unnecessary and, uh, mean…” he admits, now looking everywhere but at her.

“Do you ever say anything to him when he’s…out and about?” she questions. 

He shakes his head. 

“What usually helps you sleep, amor? How can I be helpful?” she asks him, placing her hand on his cheek. 

“Just having you to hold is enough to help calm my racing thoughts,” he sighs, settling deeper into his pillow and pulling her to lay with him.

“Goodnight, amor,” she yawns, kissing his chest before slipping back into sleep easily. 

[mm-so-this-is-love]

Encantober prompt 4 - head pats

Pepa paced back and forth across the school yard. Bruno sat still, ruana draped out over his knees like a tent. Under it, out of sight of his anxious sister, he fed crumbs to the rat who had hitched a ride to school with him that day. At best Pepa only tolerated his small friends, and the cloud darkening over her head showed she was certainly not at her best.

“I can’t take the test Friday, Bruno!” She muttered, more to herself than to him. “I won’t be ready, you know I’m terrible at History, and if the test is Friday, I’ll fail for sure, then Mamá will be upset and then I’ll be upset, and our birthday party is this weekend and she won’t let me go, and even if she does I’ll rain all over it and everything will be ruined, and—”

“Whoa, whoa, Pep, take it easy!” Bruno’s ruana was twisted around his frame, his little buddy having scurried into a shirt pocket taking cover from the tornado that had begun swirling around them. He managed to catch her wrist and pulled her down next to him. He slung an arm around her shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay, okay? Julieta’s on it.”

Pepa slumped into his side. “What if it doesn’t work?” She twisted the end of one braid around her fingers.

Bruno reached his free hand up to tug gently on her other braid. “What if it doesn’t? Let’s play worst case scenario.”

Pepa sighed. “We take the test Friday.”

“We help you study.”

“I fail anyway.”

“It happens.” Bruno squeezed her shoulders. “Then what?”

“Mamá cancels our party.”

“Nah, she won’t, the whole town is coming, she wouldn’t. And,” he continued over her, “she’ll let you come, it’s your birthday, you not being there would look bad for La Familia Madrigal.”

“Okay, she lets me go, but glares at me all night, and I thunder and rain and storm and the whole party gets canceled.”

Bruno tugged her braid again. “Then the three of us, we hunker down under a table and keep all the food Julieta made all for ourselves. And I steal a bottle of Mama’s good wine, and we have a real fiesta del trillizo.”

That got a hint of a smile out of Pepa.

“But anyway, Julieta’s on it! She’s the best negotiator of us all, she convince el maestro to have the test next week, and we’ll help you study and it will be fine!”

Pepa nodded. Julieta, armed with a basket of buñuelos and her sweetest smile, had gone into the school house to try to negotiate with the teacher: if anyone had a shot of persuading him to change his mind it was her. Julieta was the most level headed, the most even tempered. She made sick and injured people feel better. Half the town regarded her as a saint. She reassured Pepa and Bruno before she walked in, just a small, polite request worded just right, and they wouldn’t have to worry.

This was a far cry from the Julieta who now came stalking out of the building. Her eyes were narrowed and the scowl across her face would certainly have looked more familiar on her brother or sister’s. She began pacing, following the same path Pepa had abandoned just moments earlier, muttering fiercely under her breath.

Pepa and Bruno looked at each other then back at their sister. “Um, Juli? You’ve got a cloud,” Bruno said nervously.

“He wouldn’t move the test?” Pepa guessed.

Julieta spun to face them. “I told him we had a big weekend coming up, and everyone in class was looking forward to it, and reminded him how special la noche del milagro is to everyone, but especially us.”

“Yes?”

“And I told him how grateful we would be, and how meaningful it would be to our mother, if he could take that into consideration.”

“And…?”

“And he said he’d move the test to Monday.”

Pepa and Bruno jumped to their feet. “That’s great! You did it!”

Julieta smiled, but in a way her siblings could only describe as terrifying. “And then he said he knew I was just looking out for you both, and that he knew I was only doing my best.”

Bruno scowled. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes. And I told him, you also do your best, but could use another day to prepare. And then he patted me on the head, and said ‘good girl.’”

Thunder crashed above them as Pepa narrowed her eyes. “He did what?”

“The test is Friday!” Julieta yelled, grabbing her sister's arm. “And you are going to ace it!” She began marching her towards Casita.

Bruno made to follow them, but then stopped, pulling his rat friend out of his pocket. “Okay, ñero, I’ve got a job for you…” He whispered into his ear before setting him on the ground, where the rat promptly took off for the school house. Then Bruno started walking after his sisters. History wasn’t his best subject either, but the three of them were about to study like they’d never studied before.

This writer (who is also a teacher) does not approve of bribing teachers or using rodents to get revenge, no matter how minor. She also, however, doesn’t approve of teachers playing favorites, or having little to no faith in their students.

The prompt “head pats” only made me think of Gilmore Girls, so that line was borrowed lovingly from season 6, episode 6. “We are on Sores and Boils Alley!”

[empty-cryptid]

Pancita Poem

So, @waitingonavision and I share a birthday today. We decided to use our shared birthday to collaborate on a poem celebrating Bruno’s belly and the fandom’s journey to finding out just what that ruana is hiding. I hope you enjoy reading it, We sure had fun writing it!

It started out a great mystery;

Just go through the fandom's history!

A conundrum placed above the rest;

Dare we hope to complete the quest?

What the fandom wanted found:

Is Bruno's middle cute and round?

Or could it perhaps be utterly flat?

(Or worse… oh no– A six-pack?) 

Oh, what does that ruana hide? 

When he twirls, stops and looks aside.

On the last note, letting out a final sigh;

His tummy relaxes and a smile comes by.

Collecting evidence, we looked for more;

An animation video added to the lore.

The belly on Bruno’s model stuck out.

We must be onto something, no doubt!

Tumblr began buzzing, AO3 followed suit;

With a movement quickly taking root.

Despite Bruno’s belly still being a query;

For plenty of us, it was beyond just a theory.

So on Twitter, too, we rose to the task.

About the mystery “tío gut” we did ask.

Oh, Jared Bush, could you help us please?

Only you can set our restless minds at ease.

Well, we never got an answer from JB.

(His true opinion remains in secrecy.)

No matter, the fandom continues to cry:

“Viva la pancita de Bruno!” to the sky!

Art, fics, headcanons, spread widely ‘round!

How fun is the pancita party we’ve found!

Everyone’s welcome, and the family grew,

(Just like Bruno’s belly when it’s full of stew.)

People shout, “Bruno needs to be healthy!”

Writers, artists, and more create content proudly.

“Quick, make it true,” everybody proclaims.

The fandom gives his tummy some fame.

Sopancita? Yes, it is true indeed!

That figurine we all in the fandom just need,

With a soup bowl in hand, going way too deep.

In his stomach it sits, nice and warm, he will keep.

The new doll, as well, uncovers a tidbit.

A belly’s revealed just to prove it.

Now which clothes fit best on this Tio Bruno?

The fandom will definitely make some, you know!

A Bruno pillow for little Antonio’s head to rest.

That belly’s always full of Juli’s cooking—the best!

Luisa needn’t worry ‘cause he’s got safety padding.

The Madrigals’ support for the tío tum is everything!

It's too tempting to squish his cheeks,

Or poke his belly so he squeaks.

His form has filled out rather well,

There’s more to hug, you can really tell.

It’s all in fun, just hug the tum!

Only free him when you’re done.

Give him a squeeze without apprehension,

This cuddly tio loves the affection.

[lousybren]

4, 10, 21 for the 'not from us' ask set

hello!!! long time no talk :3 4. favourite dish specific for your country? mmm its difficult to think of a local dish that doesnt have like sister versions in other parts but uhhhhhh. you can never go wrong with some milanesas. or asado of course. or empanadas. or ham and cheese pie. or humita. or- (gets shot)

10. most enjoyable swear word in your native language? mierda (shit) or carajo which are simple and to the point; alternatively any elaborate expression involving cunt, the longer the better, for example 'la recalcadisima concha de tu puta vieja'

21. if you could send two things from your country into space, what would they be? id pick like the worst politicians i could think of lmao bitch byeeee if this is more of a voyager golden record kinda thing, maybe a mixtape of our best hits from all music genres, and something handcrafted by local artisans like a ruana or something like that

[oncexinxmyxdreams]

Encantober

Prompt 23: Rats 🐀

Beatriz is a rat character I made for my Encanto fic Miracles Come in Pairs. However, this works as a stand alone fic. 

She hasn't lived long. Rats live two or three years. She's six months old. At four weeks she was able to leave her mother and be independent. She never left the human who lived among the rats. Imprinted some would say. 

It goes through the rat grape vine why he lives inside the walls. The oldest passed it down their line. They mention his habits: throwing salt, knocking on wood, hopping over cracks, or holding his breath with crossed fingers. 

He has a name. Bruno. However, she calls him her funny human. It's comical how he suddenly becomes another person. He flips the green hood he wears up until it's covered his eyes and he speaks deeply. He goes by Hernando then.  He places a bucket over his head and very muffled will say he made spackle. That's Jorge. By any name, her funny human. It suits him. 

He's funny, kind, creative, but also sad. In her young life, she takes it upon herself to be a devoted companion to him. Companions are intelligent, helpful and loyal. 

She thinks she's the most intelligent in the mischief of rats. She's not, but her human acts like she is and that's what counts. Her human coos at her saying she's so intelligent. She loves hearing compliments. 

"Beartiz, you've got spunk." "Clever girl." "You're so smart Bea!" "Eres la rata bebé más inteligente y dulce" which meant "You're the smartest and sweetest baby rat." 

The cutesy ones aren't her favorite, but she appreciates it. She knows he appreciates all the rats who live with him, but especially her. She's one of the most helpful.   

She watches the family he belongs to, but doesn't interact. Snuggled in green fabric, she curls against his neck when he sleeps. She frequently rides on his shoulders and scampers down his arms. She notices when he needs something and she'll fetch it for him.

She sneaks so quietly through Casita. She'll even go outside and into town. It doesn't matter how dark or light it is. She escapes the smacking brooms, traps filled with cheese and predators with big teeth. They'll never catch her. Bruno's always glad to see her bring him something.     

"Thanks Bea. I needed a new pen."  "You found me an unused toothbrush? Aw, gracias Beatriz!" "Ooh! More scrap paper? Thank you!" "I know you don't like the game shows, but thanks for stepping up."   

She detests the entertainment. She's too clever to stick her head in the paper scenes he's drawn and act out his stories. She'd rather fetch things or burrow into his ruana. She'll do it when he asks so sweetly and promises her extra food. Only then. He's happy and she knows he could use some cheering up. The indignity of playing a star crossed lover or the losing sport team is worth it.  

 She's not alone in every endeavor. She'll round up her siblings and cousins if he needs multiple things at once. They all care for him, but she'll be the ringleader. She'll fight anyone who disagrees.      

"You a leader in the making Beatriz? I bet you are."   

She's certain she's the most loyal creature around. These dogs in town, proclaimed man's best friend, she disagrees. She's better than a dog. Besides, they're barking rattles her ears. She's not fond of cats, but most seem to ignore her. That's better. She's loyal to the rats, but mostly to her human. He's a part of the mischief and being part of it, he looks out for her.  

Especially now as the plaster and wood crumble. As she hurries along the bamboo railing and for once, panics. She never panics, but she's at a loss. Her funny human is hurrying behind her. Out of fright, her little paws raise up and his hazel eyes don't miss. His large hand encloses around her form. She's tucked securely in his ruana and holds on as they tumble to safety.