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thebiggestnope · 2 years

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Bunkbeds After Dark

Summer Camp AU Drabble. NSFT. Minors Scram. CW: Male masturbation Elena belongs to @prophetic-hijinks. Gus, Hernando, and Paola belong to @rinnysega. Javi belongs to @sionnaach. Check out all the Summer Camp AU (and other unhinged AU content) on @splat-precipice

Bruno couldn’t sleep. Judging by how long he’d been lying awake, staring into the darkness in his cabin, it must be about one in the morning. One thing that was nice about being this deep in the woods was how little light came in through the windows this far from civilization. The two sets of bunk beds in the room were awash in twinkling starlight. If Bruno hadn’t been so distracted, he might think it was pretty.

But Bruno’s mind was on other things. Summer camp was already a challenging place for maintaining wholesome thoughts – you couldn’t put that many people in short shorts and expect everyone to keep a clear head – but Bruno was struggling particularly hard tonight. Emphasis on the hard: Earlier that day, he’d knocked Elena into the lake, and he’d been treated to a view of her white t-shirt clinging to her spectacular breasts as she’d emerged from the water. The image was burned into his mind, and now he was having an awful lot of trouble getting his erection to subside long enough for him to fall asleep.

He tossed and turned in frustration. He’d been doing his best to avoid masturbating in the cabin. With three roommates, it was perhaps the least private place for him to take care of himself in the entire camp. Even the mess hall was reliably empty for several hours a day. Besides, given how busy Paola and Hernando were keeping him in the boathouse, he was usually getting his needs attended to.

But as he thought again of Elena’s purple bikini top revealing itself through her soaked shirt, he knew it couldn’t be helped. Listening carefully to the sounds of his bunkmates snoring, he wriggled his way out of his sleep shorts, turned so he was face down, and positioned a pillow under his hips. He made an indentation in the soft material so that it would nestle around his cock as he thrust into it, and already the friction felt incredible on his sensitive skin. He needed to come so badly. This was fine, right? He’d be quiet and quick and he’d be very careful not to wake Gus, who was asleep in the bunk below him.

He took hold of the edge of the mattress, closed his eyes, and got to work.

-----

Gus awoke from dreaming that he was at sea.

He’d been imagining a gentle rocking of waves lapping against a boat as he lay in the hull, peacefully looking out at the mountains across the water.

But while the view of the mountains evaporated as he regained consciousness, the rocking feeling didn’t. Gus realized that the bunk was swaying. He briefly wondered if it was an earthquake, but he was pretty sure that earthquakes didn’t come with quite so much heavy breathing. Somewhere above him, he heard Bruno taking quick, labored breaths, and Gus realized what was happening.

What the fuck. Gus was annoyed. He had to wake up early to coach a soccer game, and now he had to miss out on his precious sleep so his annoying roommate could get himself off. Wasn’t Bruno getting enough action as it was? Everyone knew about him and his trips to the boathouse. This was so inconsiderate of him. Just like a spoiled rich kid not to think about the other people in the cabin. Gus lifted his leg, readying himself to give a powerful soccer kick to the mattress above him, when he heard Bruno let out a soft whimper into the darkness.

Gus paused. Hmm. That noise… did something to him. There was something undeniably hot about that snooty nerd being so horny, so desperate, that he was up there making the whole bunkbed oscillate in rhythm with his need.

He thought about Bruno parading around camp in his little shorts, his long, slender legs on display, and Gus could feel himself getting turned on picturing Bruno moving above him. Gus realized that, ya know what? He could be convinced to join in.

He heard another ragged exhale from above him, and Gus considered himself fully convinced.

Gus pulled down his pajama pants, took himself in hand, and started to stroke.

-----

The images in Bruno’s brain were coming at him fast: Elena pulling her t-shirt off and letting him glimpse at all the skin underneath. Hernando holding him steady in his big arms. Paola’s thick thighs on either side of his face. Gus running across the soccer field, sweaty in his jersey. He gripped the sheets, rutting harder into his pillow. Just a few more moments…

He paused to listen, to doublecheck that everyone was still asleep before he let himself fuck his pillow to his finish, and realized that he no longer heard Gus’s rhythmic breathing below him.

Gus, to his horror, was awake.

Had Gus heard him? Was he caught? Bruno didn’t think he’d be able to stop. He needed release so badly, and if he had to stop now there was no way he’d ever get to sleep. He laid on his stomach, biting his lip, trying to still his breathing long enough to figure out what to do next.

Then he heard a slick, rhythmic skin-on-skin sound and a faint, almost imperceptible grunt in Gustavo’s voice, and Bruno almost blacked out. Was Gus – was Gus doing the same thing?

He pictured the slice of Gus’s abs the camp always got to see when Gus lifted the hem of his soccer jersey to wipe his brow, and pictured the way Gus’s bulge would swing when he ran. Bruno resumed his thrusting.

-----

Gus’s soft grunts of encouragement to Bruno could be, if anyone asked, just noises he was making while he dreamed. None of this was actually happening. None of it counted. He was just… doing stuff in his sleep. He thought about Bruno above him and tugged his foreskin in time with the sway of the bedframe. What was he doing up there that made the bed move so damn much? He pictured Bruno’s slim hips twitching hard enough to move Gus below him, pictured what Bruno’s face must look like right now. The pace was picking up; Bruno must be getting closer. Maybe his cheeks were red. Maybe he was biting his lip.

Gus let other images flare through his head. He pictured Viv’s lovely, broad shoulders and thought about what she would look like bent over and moaning his name on the dining room table in the mess hall. He thought about Adriana’s muscular legs and pictured her pushing him backwards into a canoe, demonstrating just how good she was with the rope they used to tie the vessels to the pier. He thought about –

He thought about getting caught, as Javi’s snoring abruptly stopped, and both he and Bruno froze.

-----

Bruno couldn’t take it anymore. He was so close. If Javi woke up, he’d have to go on a midnight stroll and finish himself off under the starlight. Hell, maybe Gus would come with him. Bruno’s cock throbbed at the thought, which didn’t help the aching, undeniable need pulsing through Bruno’s entire body.

It also didn’t help that he could hear Gus’s heated inhales and exhales below him, as Gus struggled to cool himself and stay quiet. Bruno surmised that Gus must be pretty close too, and the thought made him rock his hips involuntarily into the pillow, creating a small tremor in the bedframe that, if Bruno heard right, made Gus breath harder into the darkness.

They both lay there paralyzed, on the verge of coming, silently praying for Javi’s snores to begin again. When they did, Bruno thanked god and anyone else who might be listening – which, hopefully, was only Gus – and bucked hard into the soft fabric of his pillowcase, his eyes rolling back into his head as he began to spurt. He ground all his weight downward as he came into the depression he’d made in the pillow and finally got the release he so desperately needed.

-----

Gus swayed with the motion of Bruno’s orgasm, Bruno all but shouting at him the exact speed and rhythm he liked when he came. Gaining that secret knowledge would have been enough to push Gus off the precipice had he not already been struggling to keep himself from tumbling off of it. He’d been so close when Javi had stopped snoring that he’d only managed to keep his orgasm at bay by biting his lip hard enough to taste blood. He’d nearly groaned in relief when Javi seemed fully asleep again, and the moment Javi had snored again he’d pumped himself hard and let cum dribble over his fist. Normally he would have grabbed a sock or something to catch his seed, but he was too far gone, too afraid of risking another close call with making the mattresses creak anymore than it already was.

Gus caught his breath, and knew Bruno was doing the same above him. He tugged his shirt off and used it to wipe himself clean. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to tease Bruno with a view of him waking up shirtless in the morning. Either way, he looked forward to meeting Bruno’s eye on the soccer field tomorrow, and wondered if he’d be treated to more dreams of swaying ships. After all, it was still early in the summer, and Gus was a light sleeper.

#summer camp au #bruno madrigal smut #gustavo oc #gus oc #javi oc #bruno x oc smut #bruno x gus smut

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cheetee · 2 years

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I told the discord I'd write an angsty character exploration if someone wrote me a comedy-adventure. So here's a story about @rinnysega's OC Gustavo Pinheiro, with some appearances from @papermachette's Chepe.

The Mosaic of Gustavo

“The memory loss,” says Gustavo, “It’s getting worse.”

They used to meet in the Casa Madrigal. But these days Julieta swings by on Saturday, after the morning market, and lets herself into his house, saving him the walk. His leg aches more than it did in the past, he’s sure, and he finds himself out of breath at the bottom of the Madrigal slope; perhaps she’s noticed the walks getting harder for him. And Julieta must be grateful to go to his empty house and drink coffee, surely, with so many little daughters and sobrinos at home.

“Getting worse?” says Julieta.

She has a little notebook, nestled in a bigger printed-book full of dense Latin words. Years ago she used to borrow his books on anatomy and study them; her studies have taken her beyond his outdated books of muscles and bones, though, which are better suited for learning to draw nudes than practising medicine anyway. She takes notes as he speaks, like a true doctor.

“Or so Chepito tells me.” He chuckles. “He says I forget things we did together. Or say things that didn’t happen. More often these days. Or maybe he’s just in a bad mood more?”

Julieta’s lips thin. “Chepe has always been ill-tempered.”

Julieta doesn’t like to tell Gustavo she dislikes Chepe, but there couldn’t’ve have existed two people more different in the world. Gustavo isn’t really bitter about it. Can he blame her? Sometimes Gustavo sees the way Chepe treats women and hopes none of his friends will end up on the receiving end of the thing Chepe calls romance.

“He’s mellowed out for Brianna, hasn’t he?” Julieta asks him.

Gustavo’s expression brightens. He’d almost forgotten; of course his Chepito was different these days, with his little at girl. “The baby! Sí, he adores her. I knitted her a little blanket, I don’t know if I showed you...”

“You did.” Julieta gives him a tight-lipped smile, but he recognises the flash in her eyes; a spark of confusion and upset. He’d said something he shouldn’t have said. But what it was, she doesn’t tell him. She only continues: “Chepe tells you you’re forgetting things. Like what? When did he say that?”

“Have I told you about my first kiss?”

That takes Julieta off guard. She hesitates a moment, ignoring her notebook; then she laughs, her eyes crinkling the way they do, like an affectionate cat. If Gustavo could make drawings that could move, he would’ve loved to capture that movement, the way she tilts her head covers her mouth.

“No, Gus, never. It must have been a long time ago, no? That seems a reasonable thing not to remember.”

“Because I was talking to Chepe about my first kiss. It was Viviana Quinteros, it was a dare. We must only have been teenagers then. I mentioned it, because he must’ve known, right, we were friends then, no? And he said-”

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“Kiss me.”

Chepe was only fourteen, but he looked older. Hard work and plentiful sunlight were giving him a man’s body like his father’s, well-toned and dry-skinned, and even if he was short, his facial hair was growing out more thickly than Gustavo’s. They sat side-by-side at the edge of the quarry-pool, the chill of the setting sun beginning to surround them, and they moved closer together, and Chepe grabbed Gustavo’s shoulder and said the words like they were urgent.

“What?” said Gustavo.

“Kiss me,” repeated Chepe, “If it’s true that you like boys as well as girls. Kiss me.”

Gustavo opened his mouth to protest. Then he looked at his friend’s face, the bow of his lips, the way his dark eyelashes framed his eyes, the half-smirk that Gustavo had looked at so often, and thought two deadly, dangerous words: Why not?

Chepe closed his eyes when Gustavo kissed him. The feeling was wetter and less natural than Gustavo had expected, but Chepe didn’t seem to wince; Gustavo didn’t want to close his eyes, didn’t want to miss the reddening of Chepe’s cheeks or the punch-drunk surprise in him as he pulled away.

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, and then Gustavo grinned, mirroring that cocky grin that Chepe had so easily mastered.

“Couldn’t resist me, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Chepe went from bliss to anger so quickly, and he punched Gustavo in the arm, making Gustavo laugh, because he knew Chepe liked it and he knew Chepe wasn’t really angry. Chepe tried to shove Gustavo into the water, and Gustavo leaned into him, relishing the way his friend’s eyes widened in surprise and anticipation.

“Or what?” said Gustavo, pinning Chepe to the ground, and Chepe’s mouth twisted into an exhilarated grin.

“Kiss me again,” he said, hungrily, and Gustavo pushed him into the grass and

---------------------------------------------------------------

"Chepe said that was years after the first kiss, said I’d practically lost my virginity by fifteen. Which is, hey, pretty rude.”

Julieta laughs. Her sense of humour, hidden underneath layers of politeness and kindness, takes effort to discover; but it is, once uncovered, dirtier than one would imagine. She says, “I remember rumours about a very young Gustavo.”

“Me too. I don’t remember feeling like a Cassanova.”

“Does anyone feel like a Cassanova, at fifteen?” she smiles. She pauses to scribble something down in her notebook. “That doesn’t seem like so significant a detail to me, where forgetting things is concerned. Why don’t we try something more recent?”

“Like what?”

“Tell me something,” she pauses to read something in her book, “A piece of news. Something you heard in the last week.”

“In the last week?”

He scours his mind. This week... He hobbled his way up to the cliff to sketch the trees. He always does. Picked up his groceries. Chepe came around with two bottles of beer, didn’t he? But Gustavo isn’t big on news or gossip, really, and the only person he can think of who would tell him news is Julieta herself.

He says so, and she laughs. "That would be fine."

An interesting thing... Didn’t Alejanda tell him something interesting, last time he saw in her town? He brightens up.

“It was pretty recent, wasn’t it?” he says, “When we were all at the Casa Madrigal and—”

---------------------------------------------------------------

“Mirabel, leave Señor Pinheiro alone,” said Julieta, “He’s here for his check-up.” But she was distracted, and not really paying attention to either of them. She’d been distant all week, and growing only colder with each failed search party and passing day with no news. And what could Gustavo do? With his leg, he couldn’t join the teams of men scouring the jungles, and she wouldn’t open up to him at the best of times, let alone now.

Little Mirabel dawdled in the doorway, glancing between her feet and him, not quite leaving and not quite staying either. Julieta was still bustling around the cupboards, so he bent down, grinning, and said, “It’s alright. Are you helping your Mamá in the kitchen, now that you’re five?”

“Sí,” she said shyly.

“Will you learn how to bake bread like her?”

(Julieta often mixed her bread dough while Gustavo was there. Check-up was a generous term; it was more the cast that Gustavo needed to eat a substantial amount while he was there, and she rarely sat down to eat with him, preferring to do something that kept her hands busy and talk to him about his week. She said it helped with boundaries. What boundaries, he wasn’t sure.)

“Sí,” she said.

She’s usually much more chatty. He glances at Julieta, sees that she’s still distracted, and gestures Mirabel a little closer.

“Are you feeling sad because your door faded away?” he asked her, and she nodded.

He was about to point to his leg and say, yes, I was sad after my leg broke too, but it’ll be okay, I found a good job that I like to do even if my leg doesn’t work, I painted all the pictures in town, and soon you’ll be so big I’ll have to change the mural in town so you’re a big tall lady, would you like to help me? But before he could get to any of those things, Julieta came around to sit at the table, shooing Mirabel away.

“Mamá is working, don’t bother Señor Pinheiro, he needs to eat,” she said, sounding tired and tense. She shut the door behind Mirabel and sighed.

“I don’t mind her,” said Gustavo, and Julieta kept holding onto the door for a long moment before turning to him and smiling.

“Thank you,” she said, “Now, we should get started. Tell me

---------------------------------------------------------------

"-And little Camilo got his gift! He shapeshifted into your mom and ran around, wasn't it chaotic?" Gustavo gave her a grin. "That's news."

Julieta nods. But her reaction is muted, unamused; it wasn't the answer she was hoping for, and he feels a bubble of annoyance rising in his stomach, because he's doing his best, and isn't that enough? He tries to change the subject.

"How is Camilo?" he asks. "And Mirabel. The little twins."

That makes her laugh warmly. "The same as ever, Gus. Camilo causes trouble, and Mirabel... Well, I worry about Mirabel."

"Your youngest daughter," says Gustavo, "That's normal."

Julieta's smile is sad. "Yes, I think so. But I can't help it."

"I would have liked a daughter," says Gustavo wistfully, "To fuss over. Isn't that what they're for?"

"Very true," says Julieta, and she looks up from her notebook to pat Gustavo on the hand.

"Oh, but," Gustavo brightens up, "Have you heard about Rosana Villanueva? I was talking to la Maestra and she told me—"

---------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm sorry, Gustavo, but it simply wouldn't be appropriate," says Alma Madrigal.

"Alma—" He remembers being warned to be polite. "Doña Madrigal, didn't we...?"

"I know," said Alma, her mouth hardening into a grimace, "I know what we spoke about. But the fact simply remains, a family of two parents with good jobs is simply a better way for Miguel to grow up."

"I understand, but the Henriques already have three children... Wouldn't it be easier...?"

"They approached me, Gustavo," she said, "I am sorry. I am sure you would have provided a fine home."

Gustavo felt his world, which had grown brighter and sweeter so much in the last month, begin to slip through his fingers and drip away.

"I still can," he tried, not wanting to have let it go without a fight, but Alma Madrigal shook her head.

"I'm sorry," she said, "Maybe another time. At least you still have

---------------------------------------------------------------

"Rosana Henriques wants someone to raise her grandchild, you know, because Imelda... she's, ah, not well... And I was thinking of letting her know, you know, I could be a surrogate. We'd have to find a wet nurse, but I think Maria Donato is due around them and she could help, and after that..."

Gustavo gives a bright smile and says, "It wouldn't be right for me to be the Papá, of course, if the Mamá is still there... But I could be Tío Gus. It would be—"

"Excuse me," says Julieta, "Just one moment." And she hurries out like she really has to go. Women and the bathroom, Gustavo thinks to himself.

It's a long moment, and Gustavo plays with the pages on Julieta's book. It's got thin pages, and the words have been printed as small and compact as possible, and he wonders that she gets through it all when it's not even in Spanish.

Julieta comes back after a time, rubbing her eyes.

"Is everything alright?" asks Gustavo.

"Yes, yes, fine, thank you," she says, and gives him a watery smile. "We should... I was thinking, we should create a photo album for you. It might help."

"Help with what?" asks Gustavo.

"The memory loss."

"Ah. Yes, maybe. I'm sure it could be supplemented with sketches."

Julieta takes her place opposite him again, and she gently shuts her notebook. This is the signal of the end of the checkup, the beginning of the social visit... Although, these days, the lines are increasingly blurred. She takes her empty coffee cup and gazes into it thoughtfully.

"Do you remember," she says, "My wedding? Augustín and I?"

"Ay, Julieta, I would never forget your wedding," he responds, and holds his hands out, framing an invisible stretch of canvas. "They wouldn't let me see the wedding dress, so I had to design one for the portrait. Blue, with the same flowers from the plates, and pearls around your neck..."

"Dolores asked me where the pearls were now," says Julieta, "And I refused to tell her, said they'd be her inheritance... It was mischievous of me, but I find it very funny, the idea of them looking for that fine pearl necklace when I'm gone... Not knowing it only existed in your imagination."

"Ah!" says Gustavo. "I would've given Augustín diamonds in his pocket-watch, if I'd have thought!"

They laugh.

"But the pictures," says Julieta, "All those photographs, they're just sitting around now... Maybe I should bring them out, make a book for you."

"It couldn't hurt. It sounds like fun. But photographs don't capture things like drawings, do they? I drew you..."

Gustavo closes his eyes and moves his hands, tracing over the lines.

"You and Augustín, you pulled away from the kiss," he says wistfully, "And you look into each other's eyes, just for a moment, at the top of the altar, in your own world. Ah! It was so romantic! Not a person in town didn't believe in true love that day."

"I remember that sketch," says Julieta, "It was beautiful. You said you'd tear it out and give it to me when you had filled the sketchbook... Whatever happened to it?"

"It's..." Gustavo begins, and has to pause to think. "I brought it home after the wedding and—"

---------------------------------------------------------------

Gustavo watched Chepe sleeping, the rhythmic rise and fall of his bare chest in the dim light, and thought: I could live this way.

It was torture, watching Chepe live; watching him tear through women like paper gowns, breaking hearts, coming home and growling about the current stupid bitch and her fucking bullshit, and Gustavo had to listen, aching with loneliness. But in these moments it seemed terribly, terribly worth it, the way Chepe breathed softly, his face cast gentle and relaxed in the rising sunlight. Yes, Gustavo could live for these moments, would do it all again just to have these snatched handfuls of minutes, pretending Chepe loved him back and it was just the two of them.

Gustavo leaned, as gently as he could, over to the side of his bed. He pulled out his sketchbook, sliding the pencil out from where it was fixed between the bindings, and began to draw.

This moment, frozen in time. A little piece of heaven, sequestered away, just for him.

But the scratching of pencil on paper was too loud, and when Gustavo glanced up Chepe was groaning and turning around, narrowing his eyes at the sketchbook before Gustavo could hide it.

"What're you doing?" muttered Chepe, voice thick with sleep."

Gustavo, infatuated with the gravel of his voice and the weight of sleep in his eyes, said, "You looked beautiful."

Chepe stared down at the sketchbook in Gustavo's hands, seeing the half-formed image of himself, and said nothing. Gustavo, feeling sentimental and feeling brave, said, "I love you—"

Chepe reached over, grabbed a handful of paper, and yanked. Gustavo closed his eyes; there was the rip of tearing paper.

"I told you not to fucking draw me," growled Chepe, tossing the handful of paper aside, letting it scatter onto the floor, and rolled onto his side to sleep again.

Gustavo didn't feel angry. He felt exceptionally stupid, and the parts of him that knew he shouldn't were buried, long buried, and he ignored their cries. He whispered, "I'm

---------------------------------------------------------------

"Yes, that's right! I was so tired I just tossed it right aside. I must go and have a look for it." Gustavo drums his fingers on the table. "I should make you a new one. You and your two girls..."

"Three girls."

"Three— Oh, yes, the three girls. With the..." He crinkles his brow. "The baby..."

"Mirabel."

He brightens. "My parents always said if they had a girl, they'd call her Mirabel. Have I told you that?"

Julieta's fingers curl.

"I don't remember," she says, after a pause.

"Maybe if I had a little girl, I'd call her Mirabel."

"Yes, perhaps." Julieta is reaching for her notebook. "I should get going, Gustavo."

"So soon?"

But it's nearly dark. Where does the time go?

He walks her to the door, cheered by her company, but she says little else.

"You won't stay for a drink?" he asks.

"Oh, I have to go get ready for the party tomorrow..."

"The party?"

"Antonio's..."

She looks him carefully in the face for a moment. Then she surprises him by leaning over and kissing him on the cheek.

"Goodnight," she says, although it felt like just a moment ago that it was afternoon.

"Goodnight," responds Gustavo, giving her a smile he hopes is cheerful, and she slips away and walks off, down the street.

It's not until he gets back to the kitchen that he sees she's left her textbook here, the dense one, and despite its weight he's sure he can catch up with her.

He has to fiddle with the latch to get the door open, but he's sure she's still in earshot.

"Julieta!"

He looks around for her, squinting.

"You forgot your book," he calls.

But the night is empty, and silent in response; and eventually he draws back into the house.

#my writing #rinnysega #papermachete #gustavo pinheiro #chepe valasco #gustavo oc #chepe oc

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lactucat-art · 2 years

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So if you follow me on my main blog it's no secret I totally love @rinnysega OC, Gustavo. I'm trying to avoid inactivity in this blog (and failing) so I decided to share these super quick doodles I made while in class today, waiting to go home to read the new chapter of The Precipice.

The second one was inspired by a really cute scene in The Mosaic of Gustavo by @cheetee. I didn't know I needed him interacting with the Madrigal kids but now I do, thank you.

This is my third and fourth time drawing Gustavo and as I said these are really quick doodles so I know they are super messy.

#encanto #encanto au #lethal amigos au #mirabel madrigal #gustavo oc #doodle dump #my art #i need a scanner #i hope i can actually focus on drawing in two weeks #i have like 5 wips awaiting

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idakyrie · 11 months

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(This is part of an AU and a LOT OF TEXT asdfg) WHAT IF.... That weird deformed shape of Fake Peppino (AKA Bruno) is actually that way because of a brain problem (known as TBI)? That would explain that peculiar way of behaving (Silly? Goofy? Childish? Doesn't think straight? Doesn't know what he's doing? Almost 0 common sense, that almost permanent expression on his face, that strange way of moving... He is doing his best to stay on his feet and not melt completely (even if it shows a bit), he can barely speak coherently, among many things (WE MUST PROTECT HIM).

I'd like to think that the brain is the only organ he has, because the rest is just... Mmh, slime? amalgam? xD, it could be a HUMAN brain that Pizzahead (his creator) got (I like to think he is actually someone insane in a bad way and too different when it comes to his lab, just pretending to smile, hints of psychopath), that brain belonged to another chef, here I clarify about getting 2 adns: Peppino and Bruno (this last I mean the one from the abandoned pizzeria and yes, he is dead, where the hell Pizzahead was going to get that brain from? Actually dead for trusting a humanoid pizza)

So Fake Peppino has 2 adns? Yeah, that makes sense... Although Peppino and him don't look quite the same (Although Pizzahead's goal was that, to be the perfect impersonator), except for the clothes BUT here comes my favorite part, his stable form.

Actually, his brain problem can be treated, he would still have 2 forms: stable and unstable, this unstable form is the one we all know, it would be present whenever he feels threatened, in danger or any other negative emotion (although he can take any form whenever he wants and be a mix of both forms).

Some history: Bruno is the first "clone" to be created, it went well, everything was perfect and one more minion... UNTIL... Pizzahead has a complicated, abusive, stupid, manipulative and ignorant attitude, basically he never treated him well, it started with scolding and even abuse (And yup! it was Pizzahead himself who caused him great injury) Why? He is a demanding and perfectionist guy, the clone had to come out EQUAL to Peppino (the irony is that he hates him and only does it to fuck up his life, to be able to replace him with some of the SO MANY clones out there) at the time he thought it was a GOOD IDEA to mix both adns and come out the same as the original, I repeat that this guy is an idiot?

Something funny is that after that he made other prototypes of clones (Classified as second generation idk) but these... None came out well, they are aberrations and can be found in a frozen chamber, he doesn't want to relive that moment and kept trying until he finally succeeded, the famous Peppino clones that can be found everywhere in the lab, inferior versions, weaker and more animal behavior than the first "clone".

Here comes another problem, Pizzahead paid more attention and was nicer to those clones, making Bruno jealous and annoyed, he never received a good treatment from him (Still he was loyal) and he had to fix and clean up all the atrocities the clones did, that means ALL the time, he could not defend himself and lived in silence, developing a great hatred towards them, precisely his behavior changes drastically to the most aggressive, just hearing a "croak" makes him angry (MODO BERSEK GOES BRR)

Many years enduring physical and emotional pain until he ends up in what? In an abandoned pizza restaurant? Just him being abandoned being very bad in all aspects? Completely alone for years, the only contact he had with others were those clones that invaded his "new home" (explaining why there are so many peppino corpses in that pizzeria).

(that girl in the image is an oc of mine hshs)

Bruno still has that silly and innocent personality, sensitive but at the same time disturbing if something bothers him. Paternal sense, playful and a big fan of Peppino, sometimes he annoys him by imitating him HAHA. Does he keep that frog behavior? YES! It's not as obvious as the clones because he knows how to control it.

At the beginning he doesn't like to be touched, after all the problems he went through he doesn't even know if there are good people in this world, so gaining Bruno's trust is a bit complicated but if you talk nice to him (as you would do with your pet XD) the interaction will be effective.

Does he have traumas? Besides he doesn't want to see Pizzahead and the clones again, or there will be a massacre, it's the first time someone is nice to him, he's afraid of abandonment and losing the little progress he has made... AND NEVER EVER SEE OR HEAR ANYTHING RELATED TO ANY LABORATORY AGAIN, his life was hell there, anything related either scares or angers him.

If you have any questions, you can ask and also, sorry if there are errors in my English, it is not my native language, I hope you can understand ;w;

#pizza tower #pizza tower fanart #fake peppino #pizza tower bruno #peppino spaghetti #peppino clones #gustavo #pizzahead #theory time #pizza tower au #pizza tower oc #doodles #my art

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