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@ratsalong
#RATSALONG : this is a highly selective, mutuals-only blog for bruno madrigal from disney’s encanto. low to moderate activity, multi-paragraph. written by archer, 21, he/him. established 1/27/2022. [ carrd with rules and notes ]
O_O
make me a starter while i finish this chapter...
hi ench
“ Pepa..! ” Bruno’s shoulders sagged and head fell back, exasperated whining long drawn out. He slowly spun in a circle, forcibly slapping a hand against his own face as he turned back to face her. “ Are you-? ” he stopped suddenly, as if catching himself saying something he knew he would regret, and exhaled. “ Been. Been. Not bean. Been. ” He pointed at his own mouth with both hands, mimicking a motion as if pulling back his cheeks and repeating “ Ee? Bean? No, ” before pushing on his cheeks and saying several times, “ Ih. Ih. Been. Ih. Sí. ” Then, without giving any warning, he reached out and poked Pepa’s cheeks. “ Como beeeeeeeeeeeen! ”
A visible look of realization flashed across his eyes and, almost as if he had been touching a hot stovetop, quickly drew his hands back to his chest with an awkward shrug. “ They mean different things, ” he mumbled half-heartedly, “ So you have to pronounce them… ”
@laneblinosa
Pepa hated learning English. It was stupid. She already knew Spanish. Everyone knew Spanish. Why did she have to learn some stupid language with dumb sounds that made her tongue feel so weird? She didn’t like how the words sounded, she didn’t like how she sounded, and most importantly, it was stupid.
It didn’t help that Julieta and Bruno didn’t have the same problems. Especially Bruno. She snarled at him as his mouth moved around, the exaggerated movements making his face look like a melted doll. If he thought she was going to do that, he was wrong. Mami might have said he had to help her, but that didn’t mean she had to help him. Besides, she was already trying her best, not her hardest, but definitely his best. If he didn’t like that, he could stuff it up his—
Oh, she was going to sit on him. Her cloud got dark in seconds, electricity sparking within it as her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. She could still feel his fingers poking at her cheeks and it made her want to scream. But then she would get in trouble and she was already grounded for not doing her English practice in the first place. So, she growled at him instead.
“¡Para que! ¿Son idiotas? ¡Se me puede entender!” The eight year old crossed her arms, sulking as her curls lifted with static electricity. “Tu me entiendes, y todos también. Bean, been, bah, bag, ¡blah!” Every single word was mispronounced but she didn’t care to put effort into her rage.
It really did come easily to him, though that wasn't to say that he didn't have to work hard at it. He realized early on that with more and more English came more and more praise, resulting in a cycle of him learning it for the praise and getting praise for learning it (it was also why he could recite so much of the Bible from memory. The old women told him how great it was that he could do so and how, for once, his sisters should be more like him). Now he was also being praised for helping his sister who stubbornly refused to even try at times, though he was beginning to worry that he would not be much help at all.
"¿Somos idiotas?" Bruno asked, though he had slowly been inching away from her during her outburst. He held himself in such a way that made it look as if he was prepared to run away from her at any moment.
For a second it was hard to decide whether he wanted to insult Pepa by telling her how they weren't even doing the "hard" stuff, just the sounds, or actually continue trying to help her. While his first instinct was to do the former, he knew that the latter was better, both because it looked better for him and also because, as much as she annoyed him, he really did want her to get better at it. She was his sister and she didn't like to look stupid -- no one did, really, but people also generally could not control the weather with their emotions.
He breathed in, held it, and released it. He did not move any closer to his sister. "If you just try, you won't be in trouble," he offered, "Just repeat after me: I have been. I. Have. Been. You have been..." He looked away as he thought and added as an example (though it was mumbled almost to himself), "You have been angry."
“ Pepa..! ” Bruno’s shoulders sagged and head fell back, exasperated whining long drawn out. He slowly spun in a circle, forcibly slapping a hand against his own face as he turned back to face her. “ Are you-? ” he stopped suddenly, as if catching himself saying something he knew he would regret, and exhaled. “ Been. Been. Not bean. Been. ” He pointed at his own mouth with both hands, mimicking a motion as if pulling back his cheeks and repeating “ Ee? Bean? No, ” before pushing on his cheeks and saying several times, “ Ih. Ih. Been. Ih. Sí. ” Then, without giving any warning, he reached out and poked Pepa’s cheeks. “ Como beeeeeeeeeeeen! ”
A visible look of realization flashed across his eyes and, almost as if he had been touching a hot stovetop, quickly drew his hands back to his chest with an awkward shrug. “ They mean different things, ” he mumbled half-heartedly, “ So you have to pronounce them... ”
@laneblinosa
laneblinosa / PEPA
With a lightning-accented yelp, Pepa swirled around. In the blink of an eye, her hands went from her hips to aggressively point at his face. “¡Ah, no-no-no-no, no! ¡A mi, no! Don’t you,” her voice took on an wretchedly high-pitched nasal tone as she drew out the word, “ ‘Pep-itaaaaa,’ ” then sharply dropped back to her normal tone, “at me, Bruno! You look at me––” Noticing the rat, pitifully reaching out, Pepa took a step back, retracting her hands.
She’d almost touched the rat. Pepa didn’t hate his rats, per say, but if she never had to see them again, she wouldn’t cry about it. With that same sentiment, she didn’t want to brush across their dirty, sand-filled, surely-flea-ridden bodies either. Bruno knew this, knew how she felt about uncleanliness and disorder. She was getting better at accepting life’s imperfections, but it’s not like over four decades of habits were going to turn over without some bounce backs.
So she stood with her hands up beside her head, clenched into fists as her eyes darted between the crumbling piece of bread and the beady little eyes staring into nothingness. (Yes, Antonio had tried explaining to her that it wasn’t nothingness, just different somethingness from them. Or something like that. She wasn’t feeling terribly humanitarian right now.) The bread. She’d focus on the bread. She could touch that.
So she swiped it out of his hand, hitting him on the forehead with it in the same movement. “What’s this? Where’s the plate? Were you going to sweep afterwards? Ya pues, Bruno.” As if he were her child and not her very much adult brother, she grabbed his chin harshly and squished his lips together. “Stuff it and bring the broom, menso, or I’ll –– “ Adults. They were adults.
And she had a son who could talk to animals. She smirked, bread in her free hand coming up to poke at Bruno’s nose. “Or I’ll tell Antonio your rats need a vacation.”
As soon as she called him out on it, Bruno’s shoulders lifted and a shy smile curled at the corners of his mouth. The rat that had scared Pepa into recoiling was rewarded not with a crumb of bread as it so desperately desired, but rather with Bruno’s pinky stuck in its paws. It only bothered with that for a minute before trying to figure out how to reach around him.
“ I don’t need to sweep! ” he exclaimed after the bread was snatched from him. The hand that was suddenly made free went to dramatically press against his forehead as if she had smashed her fist against him rather than lightly rapping him. Rest of the retort ( something about how he was always so clean that he didn’t ever leave crumbs ) didn’t even make it out of his mouth before his chin was pulled forward and lips were squished together. “ Jsp lth icla- ” he said through pressed lips, biting his cheek when she finally let go.
As soon as the rat was mentioned, Bruno quickly grabbed it off his shoulder and held it to his chest. His grip was perhaps a little tight as the rat couldn’t even struggle, only it’s tail managing to flail around as he held it against him. “ I’ll clean it, ” he said more seriously than before, snatching the bread away from her and stuffing it in his pocket ( something she probably was equally as disproving of ), keeping the rat held with his other hand. “ You need to lighten up, ” he said quietly , though it was obviously pointed, as he went to grab the broom.
i gave her a vision! it was me! [...] i don’t care what you think of me. ©
“ Ah, now you just- Just. No, not like that. Don’t do that. ” Muttering was half to himself, half to the rat that he held aloft. The creature squeaked and thrashed its legs, but never managed to bite Bruno. Other hand held an arepa about a foot away from the rodent. “ Just a little bite, okay? Like this. ” He nibbled an incredibly small piece off the edge of the pancake before offering it to the rat. He didn’t get to watch the rat’s immediate reaction, though, for he noticed Mirabel standing in the doorway. He stared at her. “ Hi, ” he said eventually before returning his attention to the rat, and his brows furrowed. “ No! ” He dropped the rat, which tore another pawful of bread despite its cheeks already being stuffed full, and it ran off. “ Sorry, that was a bad one. ” He clasped his hands together as he recentered his focus on Mirabel, shrugging as he spoke. “ It wasn’t supposed to do that. ”
@miraclestitch [ starter call ]
why yes i would like to adopt a tiny, semi-feral animal with a lifespan just a fraction of my own and then make it's continued survival the lynchpin of my mental health
laneblinosa / PEPA
@ratsalong: 👎
Seeing her brother’s form duck behind shadows, Pepa couldn’t hold back her scowl any longer. It was the second time in not even five minutes that he’d popped into her peripheral, only to scatter once she’d turned. The cloud darkening over her head grew in size as she saw one of his rats skid across a corner.
She loved her brother. Was happy that he was back. Overjoyed that he was finding his space in the family once again. But he was still her brother, the little menso she’d tripped along steps and sat on to prove a point time and time again. He might have lost mass, but he hadn’t lost the ability to tweak at her buttons until she felt ready to shriek.
“Bruno!” There was no mantra following her lips, no agonized grappling of her braid. Anxiety was not foremost in her mind, the air around her turning heavy with a barely restrained, furious, rain. “Bruno!” More forcefully, she shouted his name, going into the direction his shadow had slinked off to. “Salte! What is it, ah? Are you trying to make me tornado, is that what you want?” No response and her search into the hallway - where she swore he’d gone into - was fruitless. Hands on her hips, she huffed and shrieked out his name with a rumbling thunder around her.
He knew what he was doing. He knew exactly what to do to get onto his sister’s nerves. Pepa was an easy target. The easiest target. When they were younger, Julieta had always been rather difficult to upset ( though not impossible. He did find that upsetting her usually resulted in him feeling more guilty than satisfied, however ), whereas a carefully crafted expression could set the middle triplet off. One of his greatest achievements as a child was the one time he got Pepa in trouble all because he decided to stare at her. They were fifty now -- adults, both his sisters with families of their own -- yet when the opportunity presented itself he found that he could not resist the urge to mess with his sister. Ten years of separation only exacerbated that.
“ Pepita, what’s wrong? ” The ability to tiptoe around and appear seemingly out of nowhere had never helped his creepy reputation; this skill had only been reinforced over the years. Having ducked just beside her, he was now behind her. A piece of bread was raised just to his mouth, though a rat on his shoulder was trying its hardest to reach its paws for it. Brows were raised, head tilted. All the hallmarks of genuine concern. “ I just wanted a snack... ” he said dejectedly, shoulders drooping before he met Pepa’s eyes. “ Of course I didn’t want you to tornado. ”
BRUNO’S VISIONS i know that some of this might stray from what people who worked on the movie have said or how people generally see bruno’s visions, but it’s just how it works for him on this specific blog.
as a kid, bruno’s visions were spontaneous/uncontrolled. he could try to force them when requested, but most of the time he would get them randomly and have to figure it out from there. even before getting his gift he was known for just blurting out whatever he was thinking, which became more than just a slight irritation after he became able to see the future. there were times when he would have a lot more visions than others, and this usually coincided with negative emotions. when he was stressed he would have more visions, which would stress him out, which would cause him to have more visions, which would stress- the visions themselves did not physically hurt him, but he often went through periods of intense insomnia. there was also the anxiety about his visions ( and how people perceived them ) as well as panic whenever he felt himself going too deep into one and felt like he couldn’t pull out.
his rituals, such as the one he does in antonio’s room, are not necessary to get a vision. he started doing those in his late teens/early twenties. it helped him feel like he had more control over his visions, which in turn did make it so he could do them almost only on command. having an exact set of steps he needs to follow has also almost entirely cut out his panic about getting lost in his visions, because he feels like if he messes up one part ( such as stomping out one of the fires ) the vision will end. in reality, he can choose when to start and stop having a vision just with his mind, but it feels better to have some sort of physical aspect to it. it was only when he established a legitament ritual that his visions started to appear on glass. he stopped having spontaneous visions almost altogether, though he still will get them when overwhelmed with negative emotions.
as a kid, especially before he started having a visual way to show his prophecies, he had a tendency to focus on the wrong thing. an example of this would be if, as a kid, he received a vision about the priest and told him he would go bald. to a child that would be the most important part, when in reality the vision was about the church getting a big donation. he was also a very observant child and would sometimes say things that he was thinking, which people would take as prophecies when that wasn’t what he meant. he got better about summing up visions as he got older, and also learned to really think before he spoke.
in reality, his visions tend to be pretty neutral, or at least a good mix of positive and negative, but a combination of the neutral ones being taken in a bad light as well as the negative ones being more memorable led to the reputation bruno received as a harbinger of everything bad.
“ Camilo. ” Bruno had stopped, stared ahead for a few seconds, and finally turned around. With his official return he felt some pressure to be as present around the family as possible -- and he was certainly happy to do so -- but he was an introvert by nature so after a while he started finding time to sneak away and be alone. Usually nobody had a problem with it; either people would act like they didn’t notice, or they just wouldn’t make a fuss because it was understood. But today he found himself being trailed. First he had turned to find Jose walking parallel with him, then a few minutes later a little girl whom he vaguely recognized had been jumping from bush to bush. “ Your mom’s going to kill you if she finds out you aren’t helping Señor García like you promised. ” He smiled with a little shrug. “ I know of some hiding spots she never found... ”
@chasingmiracles [ starter call ]
lesdames / MIRABEL
Mirabel lyric starter for @ratsalong
❝You can’t realize the danger that I’m in. If she calls me, I’m not home.❞ Mirabel rapidly tried to explain the situation while also attempting to hide behind her not-much-bigger-than-her uncle. She and Isabela may have patched things up, but they still fought sometimes. Just normal sibling fights. And well… Mirabel may have annoyed her on purpose to the point of angering her. And now she was trying to escape a face full of flowers.
❝If she comes past here, you never saw me. Got it? I’m not here.❞
Without question, as Mirabel ducked behind him, Bruno threw his arms up without consideration for how obvious that would make her hiding spot. He stood frozen like a statue as his niece explained the situation, and he nodded with a hum when she told him that he mustn’t tell anyone where she was. It was a bit of an odd position for him to be in, for when he was a kid he was always in Mirabel’s spot. Sometimes he didn’t mean to upset Pepa, sometimes he did it on purpose, but it would always end with him using Julieta as a human shield. When Pepa did eventually find him ( after a while she would start going straight to Julieta ), Julieta would often resolve the conflict between them before it had a chance to escalate. Bruno wasn’t as good a mediator.
But nothing happened. The only person who came by was Camilo who only paused for a moment to acknowledge Bruno’s awkward wave before continuing to blindly walk around with a book. Bruno leaned his head back just slightly. “ What did you do? ” he whispered.
amantesmultorum / MIRABEL
@ratsalong gets a starter
“ Is it WEIRD being back ? ” Mira asked her uncle. He had been gone for ten years, so it must have felt strange to actually hold conversations and see everyone again.
“ No, ” he replied quickly, fumbling with something in his hands, “ Well, yes. It’s- it’s different. ” He was already pacing, arms alternating between outstretched and pressed against his sides as he spoke. “ I mean I’m happy. I’m very happy. Sometimes I just don’t know what to say is all. ” Hands eventually settled on being held together in front of his stomach, and an awkward smile lit up his face as he finally faced Mirabel. “ I’m happy, ” he repeated, finally firm in his answer, “ Why? Is it weird for you? ”
