touch starved ratman hugging his artist girlfriend cuz he feels comfortable enough around her to make physical contact

If you haven’t done it yet, read “You Are My Sunshine” right here!

@sketchnwhatevr these drawings of yours inspired me to image the scene for the first chapter, thank you! Also, I love your drawings a lot :)

Psst. You after some of that real good Tio Bruno shit? Laced with a bit of angst? I gotchu.

I basically got in from work, dropped my stuff, and wrote this start to finish. Hope you enjoy, other fics are here, and all that jazz. 💚

There are many, many photographs in la Casa Madrigal. Fifty years of special occasions; fifty years of ‘We need a picture!’ Fifty years of poses, practiced and perfected until they come as easily as breath. Each picture, in their matching frames and their carefully chosen positions throughout the house, is a portrait of a family that only existed in certain angles, in certain lights. There is one photograph, however – tucked away in a drawer deep inside the bowels of the house, away from water damage and the destructive habits of rats, kept safely between the pages of a heavy novel to stop the edges curling – that tells a very different story.               It was official: Bruno was an awful person.

              He was having a…let’s say a weird day. A weird week. Alright, fine; a weird month. His head was all fuzzy, his temper was short no matter how many cups of coffee or heaped spoonfuls of arequipe he tried to drown it in, he woke up every morning with barely enough strength to lift his head after having another night of sleep visions. Nothing had caused it; so far as he was aware. He just had low moods, sometimes. But four weeks was a long time for him. He was getting annoyed with it, now; which made his mood even worse. Definitely not the day to ask for a vision.               He’d barely been listening when Gustavo Torres had been talking his ear off with his request. Something something wedding anniversary, something something perfect gift, blah blah blah. Bruno had suggested they make an appointment the next day, when he was (hopefully) a little fresher. Gustavo had insisted he come up to La Casita then and there. Bruno had told him today wasn’t an option. Gustavo had muttered something about how he couldn’t expect Bruno to understand how important anniversaries were anyway.               And Bruno might have said if Gustavo had to come to Bruno ‘perpetually single’ Madrigal for marriage advice that made him un marido de mierda and maybe Gustavo would be better off putting his mouth to work between Francisca’s legs than bothering Bruno with it.               And Mamá might have heard.               So now, Bruno had been sent back to the house to ‘cool off’. He was thirty-nine years old, and he’d just been grounded.               He kinda deserved it though, didn’t he? Wasn’t exactly like he was the innocent party, here. Loco Bruno Madrigal, snapping at some poor cabrón again. He knew what the town thought of him. And it wasn’t like it was all a lie, either. He knew he had a temper. And that he was weird. And he said things he shouldn’t say. And he wasn’t sure if he just couldn’t be better – just wasn’t up to being the person the Encanto expected him to be – or if he just didn’t want to put in the work. Maybe he was just broken like that.               He’d thrown himself into a seat at the breakfast table while his coffee brewed; maybe this one would be the magic cup that banished this dark cloud over his head. Which was how he could hear his sister and cuñado coming up the main path, trying to console a sobbing Mirabel. Bruno’s heart did a sharp little twist; he hated kids crying, especially when it was one of ‘his’ kids.               Julieta and Agustín rounded the corner of the house into the garden; Juli holding Mirabel in her arms, Gus making a beeline for the still-gently-steaming pot of coffee. He made meaningful eye contact, and Bruno waved a hand. Knock yourself out.               “Hey, kiddo,” Bruno said, abandoning his own cup to walk up to his sister and sobrina, “Whassamatter?”               “Tiiiooo Bruuuunoooo,” Mirabel keened, holding out her arms for Bruno to carry her, “I’s broked!”               “Broked? Nah, that can’t be right.” Bruno hefted her weight into a comfortable position, feeling her wet little face nuzzle into his neck. She was getting heavy, but Bruno wasn’t quite prepared to stop carrying her just yet. “Not my favourite lil’ muchacha…”               He made a quizzical face at Julieta, who sighed as she deflated into a chair. “We went for a visit to the doctors’ today, Tio Bruno.”               “For her eyes,” Agustín mouthed, tapping his glasses. Ah. Mirabel had been bumping into things recently, not recognising people if they were more than a few steps away. Agustín had had a suspicion she was nearsighted, like he was, and they’d been talking about getting her seen by a professional. Bruno guessed it hadn’t gone well. He rubbed Mirabel’s back as she cried. “S’alright, kiddo,” he murmured absently. “I’ve got you.”               “So Mirabel needs to go back to see Señor Solano in a few days to pick out some glasses,” Julieta explained, gratefully accepting a cup of coffee from her husband. “And I’ve promised her they don’t hurt, and she’ll be able to see much, much better.”               Mirabel wasn’t crying quite so hard now; but she was still making sad, snuffly noises into Bruno’s hair. “I’s broked,” she said again, little more than a whisper. “My eyes are broked.”               Ay Dios mio. If that didn’t just shatter Bruno’s heart into a thousand tiny pieces. Juli pinched the bridge of her nose, trying not to start crying herself. “She’s been like this all morning,” she sighed, Agustín wrapping her arms around her shoulders and pressing a kiss into her hair. “She just keeps saying she’s broken, she’s broken.”               “And she was asking Señor Solano why her sisters don’t need glasses,” Agustín said, sitting down with his own cup of coffee. “How do you explain that to a four-year-old?”               Bruno squeezed Mirabel closer, as tight as he dared. Poor kiddo. This was not a familia that embraced the different very easily. He should know. Then, an idea came to him.               “Hey, mi vida,” he said, extracting her from her spot burrowed into his neck. She looked at him with bleary, tear-filled eyes. “D’you know your Tio Bruno’s eyes go funny sometimes, too?”               Mirabel scrunched up her face, thinking hard. “Mmmmmmaaaaybe, I thiiiinnnk…”               “Okay, s-so you don’t remember. Hold on.” Bruno plopped her down on the table and making for the house – for his tower. “Be right back.” ...               “Bruno…” Julieta began warily, as her brother zoomed past her with a bucket and a look of determination. He waved her off, pouring a rough circle of sand on the ground a safe distance from the breakfast table. Half as much as usual, so Mirabel could still see him without being inside the circle with him.               “Nah nah nah, Juli; I got this.”               Just a quick vision. Nothing too much, don’t scare her. Grab at one thread, one picture, and stop. You can do that, can’t you Brunito? You can do something right.               Bruno lit his little fires, took a deep breath, and began to focus on calling forth a vision; feeling that fast-spreading ache that meant his eyes were beginning to glow. Only seconds later, as the sand fell around him and a green tablet tumbled into his hand, he beamed up at his sobrina, still sitting on the table, staring at him. Off to one side of his vision was a green smudge, like an aura. His eyes burned; it felt like he’d been looking into the sun for too long. Stopping a vision after only just beginning was a weird, weird feeling. But it’d be worth it, if this worked.               “So, “ he said, waggling the tablet at Mirabel, “your Mamá is gonna make us enyucado for after dinner, tonight.”               Mirabel gasped, turning to look at Julieta. “Really, Mamá?!”               Julieta sighed, rolling her eyes fondly. “I was thinking about it. As a surprise.”               Bruno brushed the sand from his ruana and walked back over to Mirabel, hefting her onto his hip. “You see how my eyes glowed, muchacha?”               “Mm-hmm,” Mirabel nodded. “They went all; wooooo –”               She widened her eyes and stared off into the middle distance, expressionless. Did he really look like that? No wonder people were freaked out by him.               “But, hey,” Bruno asked, tapping Mirabel on the nose, “do you love your Tio Bruno any less?”               She didn’t even think about it. “No.”               “Do you think your Tio Bruno is broken?” he asked, cuddling her close, hiding the wince of pain when Mirabel’s forehead connected with his temple.               “Noooo…”               “Is your Tio Bruno still your favourite tio eeeveeerr?” Bruno asked, covering her cheeks with kisses.               “Noooo Tio Bruno, stooooopiittt…”               Bruno jostled her in his arms, suddenly serious as the grave. “Hey. Y-y’meant to say yes, kiddo.”               “Oh. Then yes.”               “So if I’m not broken, you’re not broken. Not ever. A-and if anyone says anything else, we’ll fight ‘em. Together. ‘kay?”               “’kay.”               “C’mere.”               Bruno squeezed her in one last, tight hug, then set her down. “You gonna go bully that primo of yours for a while?”               “Yeah!”               “Off you go then, kiddo.”               Mirabel ran full pelt towards the house; her father dashing off after her. “Miraboo be careful don’t trip on anything --!”               Bruno sunk back into his chair, grasping for his coffee cup, eyes pinched shut, allowing the mask to slip for a moment. Caffeine. Caffeine would make the pain go away. Notorious for helping with eye strain, was caffeine. As he sipped, he cracked one eye open to see Juli looking at him from across the table, deep in thought.               “What?”               “I wish you’d take your own advice sometimes, Brunito.”               “Whassat supposed to mean?”               “Nothing.” ...               “Go on; go show him.”               Bruno smiled at the sound of the rapid-fire stamp of his sobrina’s feet on the tiles heading his way. “Who could that be?” he wondered aloud. “A herd of rabid capybaras?”               “Noooo,” Mirabel said, throwing herself into the red, high-backed chair Bruno was lounging in, tucked just off to the side of the main hall. “It’s just meee!”               “Oh, it’s you. That’s good. A-and who are you, again?”               “I’m Mirabel!” the little girl giggled. “You’re being silly, Tio Bruno.”               Bruno smacked his forehead. “Oh yeah. Yeah, I-I remember.”               “Lookit, Tio Bruno! Lookit my glasses!”               Bruno pulled back to get a better look. She looked complete, somehow. Like she’d always been wearing glasses. He’d barely noticed them before – but, then again, she had just flung herself into his lap. Those sweet, familiar brown eyes blinked back at him, enlarged very slightly by the lenses. The frames were thin, round, made of wire and painted –               “Green!” Mirabel chirped. “I gots green glasses, Tio – ‘coz my eyes are like your eyes, and we’re not broked together!”               Bruno’s eyes started stinging again, but it was nothing to do with a vision. “Th-that’s great, kiddo,” he said, his voice thick. “They’re great, really suit you. Ah-hmmh.”               “Whas’ wrong?”               “Nothing, nothing. Frog in my throat.”               Julieta followed her daughter into the cubbyhole where Bruno’s red chair sat. “Abuela wants a picture of Mirabel in her new glasses for the wall,” she said. Bruno raised one eyebrow.               “You’re allowed to have the camera?”               Julieta rolled her eyes. “No. Of course not. Agustín is going to take the picture.”               Behind her, Agustín almost took out a rung of the banister, a plantpot, and himself with the tripod.               “But I thought you and Mirabel might like to take a photograph together first.”               “Yeah, why not? C’mon, kiddo. Let’s make it a good one.” Bruno lunged for the camera, wrestling it away from a protesting Agustín, and pressed it close to his and Mirabel’s faces.               “Ready? One, two, three…”               The flash temporarily blinded them both. But Juileta brought them both some leftover enyucado, which they ate together, sitting in the high-backed chair. On the arm of the chair, slowly developing, was an extreme close-up of Bruno and Mirabel’s faces, smushed together and grinning; One pair of green eyes, flecked with hazel and slightly manic, and one pair of warm, brown eyes, framed with green, happy for the first time in a week. They complimented each other perfectly.

How about Julieta and Bruno for “ there's that smile i know and love... “

This is set immediately after the reunion, during the rebuilding of Casita. Now Julieta gets to deal with a concussed Bruno 😉

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The chair is uncomfortable. 

It is made out of wood and it is old and rickety and it lacks any kind of comfort. No cushions. No padding. And it creaks. 

Constantly. 

Julieta shifts, it creaks. She leans back, it creaks. 

She freaking breathes, it creaks. 

creak creak creak

Such a loud sound in the otherwise silent room. 

So Julieta, despite her butt growing numb and her back starting to ache, has to sit perfectly still. Otherwise the creaking might wake up her brother. 

She can't have that. He needs his rest. She needs to keep perfectly still on this old, rickety, uncomfortable chair. 

Easier said than done when all her body wants to do is burst into tears and shake apart.

But she keeps still, so, so still. Her hands are folded on her lap and her back is straight. She barely breathes. The only thing moving are her eyes, tracking her brother's face and the rise and fall of his chest. 

Up and down. Up and down. 

One two three. One two three. 

Knock on wood. 

Julieta breathes in sharply. 

That's what he'd said, seconds before collapsing. 

"Knock on wood."

One moment she had been hugging him to her side. He had smiled at her, that cooked endearing smile, had leaned into her. 

Had knocked against his head. Knock on wood. So familiar. 

But suddenly the slight lean had become a heavy fall. Suddenly he had lost all control of his limbs. She hadn't just been hugging him anymore, she had held him up, had kept him from falling to the ground. 

Amidst her sister's screams (but no thunder, how very odd) and the villagers exclamations, she had felt a bruise beneath his hair, the size of a goose egg. 

A concussion. Who knows from where. Who knows from how long ago. 

All she knows is that her brother is back, but he is hurt and she has to keep watch, has to make sure to wake him up every few hours. Concussions are dangerous. Concussions can still steal your beloved brother away just hours after you have found him again. 

She doesn't have her food anymore. She only has her rudimentary medical knowledge and her iron will of not letting him slip away ever again. 

She will keep watch. She will keep still. 

His breathing hitches and she immediately breaks her promise and leans forward, the panic in her throat urging her to do something, anything. But all it does is make the chair creak and wake her brother up. 

He blinks, disoriented. 

But that's normal, Juli, don't panic. He just woke up. It's normal and it got nothing to do with the concussion. He is not slipping away. You are not losing him. 

Julieta waits with bated breath until his eyes find hers. She prays to all that is holy that she doesn't just imagine the recognition in his eyes. 

"Do you know where you are? Do you know who you are? Do you know-?" who I am? 

He blinks at her and finally there is that smirk. The same one he had given her the last time she'd woken him up for these questions. 

"Still Bruno. And pretty sure I'm still in that small room in the church.", he mumbles. "Though it's a wonder I haven't burst into flames yet. Don't tell Padre! That might shift his whole world view of Good and Evil." 

Julieta would like to slap his shoulder for the sass, but he looks so fragile, so… less. She is afraid her touch will make him shatter into a thousand pieces. 

Where has he been? What has he seen? 

Why did he go? 

"The Padre has surely forgiven you by now." 

Her brother shrugs and she can see him wince and squint his eyes against the light. What she wouldn't give for one small arepa. She would do anything for crumbs. Anything to lessen his pain. 

"He should. I might have told him about the hair, but I didn't tell him to get a toupee. Whoever sold him that monstrosity surely deserves more scorn than me. It looks like a squirrel died up there." 

Julieta can't help but laugh a little. She has missed this. Her little brother's caustic sense of humor that only his trusted people ever get to see.

"Ah," Bruno breathes. He tilts his head into her direction and his eyes are relieved and sad at the same time. "There is the smile I know and love." 

Which of course causes Julieta to immediately burst into tears. Bruno yelps and tries to sit up, but Julieta is quicker. She throws herself off her chair and across his torso, pinning him to the bed. She buries her head into his chest and weeps. 

She weeps like she did ten years ago. 

She weeps and sobs and cries. 

And through it all Bruno holds her. His arms are skinny, much thinner than they once were, but at the same time they feel the same. He smells the same. The vibrations in his chest as he hums to her are the same. 

She can almost pretend he was never gone. 

"It's gonna be okay, Juli."

Nothing is okay. 

There is no more healing food. The miracle is gone. Their house is gone. Her daughter still has that haunted look in her eyes whenever she looks at the rubble. Her mother walks around the wreckage with heartbreak in her eyes, lost. 

Nothing is okay. 

But everyone survived. The villagers are helping them rebuild, they shelter them and give them food and hope. Luisa and Isabela smile again. Pepa feels again, without restraint, without fear and worry. 

Bruno is finally home. 

And Julieta finds herself believing him. 

It's going to be okay.

Eventually.

I think werewolf bruno needs a hug!

(because I felt bad for him when he was lonely🥺) 

He always needs a hug no matter what. The world is so hard on him.🥺

Ch. 20: You Kick Up the Leaves and the Magic is Lost (Cause You Had a Bad Day)

Bruno is having a Bad Day and even Daniel Powter’s sweet lyrics can’t turn his day around. Local triplet sisters of triplet brother almost hug him to death. The Madrigal family are a chaotic duo and Casita has had their hands full since Day 1.

I wanted to try something different. And I need a hug, too.

POV: Bruno has to reintegrate into the town and is very nervous

Julieta: Don’t mind my hermano, he’s a little shy

Bruno, whispering desperately: save me Julieta

Welp. I rewatched Coco so all four of them are back in my head now, all at once this time

this feels dangerous somehow

i don't really know how is a Tumblr post supposed to work tbh, but i did another drawing of my PapaBrunoAU and wanted to show it.

it's in spanish btw bc i'm super stupid when it comes to translating euphemisms

How the BucciGang COPES 🌦️

Bruno Bucciarati

Coping?

What’s that?

He just puts all of his focus on everyone else.

If he can’t make himself happy, he can definitely make others happy.

A good jazz song and cooking helps.

Even though everyone seems to want to eat out whenever he cooks…

Or going for a fast drive.

Wind through his hair.

And the sea breeze on his face.

Distractions are a must for Bruno.

Focusing on things beyond his control are pointless so he focuses on what he can control.

Even if it feels like what he can control is extremely limited.

Leone Abbacchio

A bottle of wine.

Not that he should indulge in drinking when upset.

Music and gardening helps, though.

He will join Bruno on his chaotic car drives.

Solitude is what Leone thinks helps.

But that’s not actually what helps him.

Being around others makes his days a bit more bearable.

Also completing tasks.

Something about that smile Bruno gives when he completes a task given by him…

He also just enjoys hearing the rest of the gang laughing and joking around.

He needs to be around positive people because he gets too caught up in his own thoughts when he’s alone.

Pannacotta Fugo

Books.

Getting lost in the pages helps when he’s feeling like he’s ready to burst with anger.

Nature walks help, too.

Also likes to focus on what he can control.

But gets upset when things don’t always work out how he meticulously planned it.

Rage rooms do not help.

They just make him angrier.

He leaves them feeling like he needs to do more than just break something.

Hot tea also helps him calm down.

And he recently has started meditating.

Just don’t bother him when he’s trying to wind down.

Narancia Ghirga

Warm and fuzzy anything.

Socks?

Blankets?

You name it.

Of course, his impulse control is pretty bad.

Can justify buying anything, even if it’s useless, by saying it brings him joy.

Also likes to get his adrenaline pumping.

What he really needs is stability and a reminder that he has a support system now.

Gardens with Abbacchio.

It’s one of the few times he will either have serious conversations to process his childhood or simply sit in a comfortable silence.

Often works out because he struggles staying still.

Specifically enjoys cardio.

It gives him a sense of strength and control over his life.

And also gets rid of some pent up anger of his own.

Guido Mista

Skipping the dreaded number.

Also an avid exerciser.

But prefers lifting weights over cardio. 

Cooking also helps relax him.

And unlike Bruno, his food is edible.

Romance movies and music also put him in a good mood after something stressful.

And being around his friends.

Needs to work on not letting intrusive thoughts take over and should focus on ignoring them.

Rather than focusing on his rituals to avoid the dreaded number.

Also calms down by caring for the Pistols.

In a way, that’s self care, right?

Since they’re a physical manifestation of his soul?

Right?

Giorno Giovanna

After a particularly rough day, all Giorno needs are three things.

First, a beautiful scenery.

It could be a park, the ocean, or anything like that.

Second, he requires limited or no company.

Only those he’s close with should interact at these times.

Third, a puzzle book.

He likes to problem solve when he’s bothered by something.

Puzzle books and the right atmosphere and (sometimes) company give his brain that itch it needs to calm down.

Being able to solve any problem helps to improve his mood.

Trish Una

Retail therapy.

That dose of dopamine she gets when she buys something she likes increases her mood.

Though it isn’t exactly the most helpful tool.

But being around Mista and Narancia also lifts her mood.

They’re both just goofballs and she can’t stay angry at the world long enough when they’re both acting like fools.

Also venting.

Just verbalizing her frustrations instead of bottling them up generally helps.

It also lets her make sense of what the real issues she’s concerned over are.

And talking it over with a trusted friend gives good insights.

After not interacting with anyone if not rats, Bruno out of the walls surrounded by people who used to hate him must be in panic, just like this

Whatever you do, don't spend today thinking about how Bruno watched Mirabel go into Isabela's room to save the miracle "with a huuug", went back into the walls, and didn't know anything else about the plot until the house started to break

Don't think about how, as far as Bruno knows (because What Else Can I Do? takes place outside and on Abuela's tower, where Bruno isn't) the cracks never started to heal

Don't think about how, as far as Bruno knows when he Jorge-yeets his way out the house, Mirabel failed, and he still gets on the horse and goes to defend her

Don't think about how no one else would have done that.

Chapters: 13/18 Fandom: Encanto (2021) Rating: General Audiences

Parties at Casa Madrigal have become a bit of a double edged sword for Osma Pezmuerto. 

On the one hand, there is the food and the music and the dancing. No one parties like Familia Madrigal. Osma would be a fool to let even a single opportunity to join these festivities slip through her fingers. 

But on the other hand, there are the Madrigals themselves. 

She used to get along quite well with them. Most of them. Sure, the kids would always roll their eyes whenever she mentioned her fish, while the adults nodded along with that glazed look in their eyes, like they weren’t really listening. 

But Osma is a decent and forgiving woman. She’d never once blamed them for their lack of sympathy. 

Not everyone is capable of loving a pet as deeply as she does, after all.

Mirrorverse Bruno sketch dump!!

He’s so precious this way and that longer hair makes him more handsome in my opinion🤌🏻

Angsty feels and some sass too🥲😝