So how was encanto?
Amazing in my opinion!
Spoiler warning under cut
I feel like they did great with representing autism throughout the moving with a lot of the characters, plus many are queer coded.
Mirabell, while I wouldn't say shes my favorite character, I can definitely kin her. The struggle of wanting to prove herself to her family while they keep saying she doesn't need to hits me right in the feelings. Plus with her not having a gift, shes that much more realistic. Gives me Bisexual/Biromantic vibes.
Isabela's story was well written and she easily became one of my favorite characters. The struggle to stay perfect to satisfy others is shown well through her character and I love how her dress changes. Closeted lesbian.
Luisa. Queen. She deserves all the vacations. She faces self doubt and the fear that her worth is linked to her gift, so she struggles with emotions and showing them to others. Hardcore lesbian.
Aunt Pepa seems like a simple character but she actually is given a lot of personality. Her apperance makes her seem crazy and a little freaky, mostly thanks to her smoky eye, but in reality she's most likely just autistic and doesn't know how to process her feelings well, which is why her clouds upset her so much. Straight Ally vibes, but definitely is on the autism spectrum.
Uncle Félix is amazing, I don't think he was given enough screentime, pansexual vibes.
Dolores is a sweetheart. While her character isn't really focused on much, she's well written. I love how she covers her ears during the fireworks scene and her little noise she makes; she makes little flute noises occasionally. Possible ADHD, maybe autistic, light pansexual vibes.
Camilo. Theatre kid energy. Love this dude. Once again, not much progression into his character, but well written. Genderfluid pansexual.
Antonio. Baby. Love him, he's so sweet. Too young for me to comfortably give too many headcanons on, but possible nonbinary when he gets older.
Bruno. We don't talk about Bruno.
Just kidding, yes we do- UGH HE HAS NO RIGHT BEING THIS GOOD-
He fears his own gift and is given a bad rap throughout the movie. His gift is being able to see the future, and he often seeing relatively negative things/ people only talk about his negative visions. Not gonna lie, he looks a little like Hector from Tangled the series. Possible PTSD, likely to have depression and anxiety, may have DID, definitely autistic. Queer/questioning/gay, nonbinary.
Not gonna lie, hated the grandma most of the film. She sucked just overall, needing everything to be perfect and shit. Her attitude was just... ugh. Her redemption arc, like 5 seconds long, went too easily- I know its like a 2 hour movie, but c'mon. I also understand shes traumatised but that is no reason to make your kids and grandkids tramatised too!
Introduction To Color Theory - a Guide by Félix Graham de Vanily
This was actually done for practice. I had no idea how was I supposed to write Félix, so…this was my first shot. A character study, if you will? Ironically, the draft was in my notes before ‘Truth’ came out. They’re probably going to have that much needed convo about dads, but not here. This is just me trying to make out Félix’s thoughts.
Part 1 - Introduction To Color Theory - a Guide by F. Graham de Vanily (here!) / Part 2 - Saturation (yes, it has a part 2 now) / Part 3 -
Which makes this, wouldn’t you know it:
Rating: General Audiences
“Is that coffee?”
Viperion’s lips twitched into a weak attempt at a smile, “Yeah.”
“That is very considerate of you, but should you be out and about at this time?” Félix’s eyes skimmed over the hero’s new attire while gingerly taking the thermos from his hands.
Instead of proper suit adjustments that he saw Ladybug and Chat Noir wear, Viperion resorted to improvisation. The same jade scales of his suit peaked out of the collar of his grey winter jacket, with the hood pulled over his dark hair while a simple, grey backpack hung on his shoulder.
Félix’s brows furrowed in distaste. He looked like a teen going to a Halloween party in January.
“What are you wearing?” he asked when Viperion refused to answer his first question.
He shrugged, “It’s all I had. Usually, I have some power-ups at hand but re-“ he raised his hand to hide a long yawn, “-recently I ran out.”
“And you’re certain you don’t have anything more suitable?”
“No. Sorry, you’ll just have to deal with the cheap budget version tonight,” he said with both hands in his pockets, his smile turning wry.
Félix hummed in thought as he sipped his espresso (triple shot, no sugar, just how he liked it), “Charming. Does this cheap budget costume fulfill its purpose of keeping you warm?”
Always the saint, Félix thought with exasperation. Once again, he looked over Viperion’s tense form with an unimpressed gaze, taking note of his firm grip on the strap of his backpack. He readjusted the blanket around his shoulders before waving him over, “Get inside. I’m certain even Mayura would be sensible enough not to send Amoks in this cold.”
“I don’t know,” the hero murmured, glancing back at the panoramic view of Paris, which glittered through the thick layers of snow. His bright, chartreuse eyes desperately searched for any blue beacon that could emerge and disrupt the nocturnal ambience. Félix would have none of it.
“I didn’t ask. It would be foolish to let a reptile patrol in the midst of winter,” he raised his brow critically, “and your exhaustion couldn’t be more apparent.”
With a weary, but grateful smile, Viperion soundlessly walked past him and into the warmth of his home. Félix’s gaze followed him every step of the way, observing his slow gait, the melting of tension from his shoulders as the warmth greeted his skin, the-
-the glittering, teal Ouroboros bracelet wrapped around his wrist.
And fragments of legitimate sheet music scribbled on the surface of Viperion’s backpack as he set it down on the floor.
“I didn’t know you played,” he noted, closing the balcony doors behind him. Viperion barely acknowledged the statement, striding across his room without so much as a glance at its interior before he settled down on the floor. Instead of taking the jacket off, he gripped its edges closer as he curled in on himself. In the comfort of his home, Paris’s defender allowed his body to release all the tension it was holding in a single, shivering exhale.
Something didn’t feel right, Félix thought, furrowing his eyebrows in thought. Something dimmed the brightness of Viperion’s eyes and squeezed all emotion out of his voice. He could barely manage a response, let alone maintain a conversation.
“Guitar,” he whispered.
“I play the guitar,” he repeated, and left it at that. Considering how the topic of music usually brightens his eyes whenever it slips into their conversations, Félix didn’t consider this a good sign. His fingers kneaded the fabric of his blanket in displeasure, thoughts racing to find which direction to pick in uncharted territory.
“Is something bothering you?” he tried. Viperion glanced back at Félix with eyes shadowed by his jacket’s hood, but didn’t respond. “Would you,” he swallowed, but maintained eye contact with his only audience, “like to talk about it?”
His hands were still holding on to his blanket in a desperate attempt to keep his hands busy. Give him a crowd of condescending elitists looking for a party trick and Félix could make a show, but in the face of someone who’s opinion mattered to him, he was an amateur. How many rehearsals could prepare him for a scene that wasn’t some form of a stage, with an audience he wasn’t accustomed to, the kind that didn’t ask for a performance, but an actual display of sincerity.
It could’ve been better, but his efforts were rewarded by a quiet response, “No. Not really.”
When he looked at him with that same sad look on his face, Félix moved. Words were never Viperion’s forte anyways. He spoke in frequencies and actions, so he decided to “speak his language” The effect Viperion’s dullness had on the lines of his mask and eyes made him look downright haunting, but he felt no fear as he closed in on the hunched figure, opting to block his sight of those miserable eyes by dumping his blanket on his head.
“Do you need more?” Félix asked, observing as the hero’s head poked out of the blankets with his dyed mane in all its glory.
It’s not that he cared, he was trying to communicate in a way that could elicit an actual response, and compassion was Viperion’s mother tongue. So, he remembered he read up on animal species that the Miraculouses were based off of, after concluding that some physical characteristics of said animal species affected the Miraculous users, and thought he could make use of it.
Ladybug was drowsy and stagnant during winter. Chat Noir gets easily distracted by laser pointers. Carapace reacted to danger the same way a turtle would when a predator is in its vicinity - by hiding behind his “shell” Dard Jaune is naturally attracted to the scent of flowers. Even Félix felt himself gain strange quirks that he theorized could be the effects of his Miraculous, if Trixx’s amusement is anything to go by.
If he could use these traits to his advantage, it could give him an edge in future heists. So far, his unexpectedly strong relations with Viperion made him revise some basic facts on snakes, and one of them are realized right before his eyes.
In winter, snakes don’t necessarily hibernate, but their metabolism is slowed down and they’re required to go through their own form of hibernation, brumation. He expected Viperion would feel particularly drowsy in winter, so he waited for his opportunity to catch the snake off guard and get a closer look at his Miraculous before he could process his surroundings.
And so, he enacted his plan, bringing bundles of blankets, some cups from the kitchen and a few books on a tray, anything that could encourage Viperion’s drowsiness. By the time he came to his room, Viperion was bidding “good night”s and “stay safe”s with Orochi, before he glanced up at him with wide eyes.
“Félix, you don’t have to-“
“It’s fine,” he said while setting the blankets down on his bed and placing the tray on his nightstand, “you can make it up to me by ensuring this stays between us.” He sent a stern look Viperion’s way, “I can count on you not to mention a word of this to your fellow heroes?”
“Don’t worry,” Viperion chuckled, “no one will know.”
Satisfied with the response, Félix directed his attention to the blankets, pulling them this way and that as he prepared what he considered to be a decent replica of a nest. All the while, Viperion observed from his blanket cocoon, eyes soft with amusement as he followed his movements.
By the time Félix turned back, Viperion didn’t look as haunting as he did before. The renewed vibrancy in his eyes made his lips twitch in pride, before he coughed behind his fist to regain his composure.
“Your nest awaits,” the blond announced, gesturing dramatically towards the chaotically arranged pile of blankets. The boy’s smile widened as he rose up to his full height and slipped into his handmade haven. Soon enough, Viperion was engulfed in a cocoon of comfort and warmth while Félix made sure to get his jacket and backpack off the floor.
With the backpack in hand, Félix discreetly looked over its surface in search of initials, signatures... But, all he found was sheet music...with very, very familiar notes...
“You’re a fan of Jagged Stone?”
Viperion’s posture visibly tensed, even while covered in three layers of blankets. Félix realized he might be crossing a boundary at the wrong time.
“My apologies,” he coughed, before leaving the backpack on his chair, “I understand if it’s connected to your civilian identity.”
“It’s fine, his music is good,” Viperion replied apathetically, then turned back to look at him with a weak smile. The same one he used when he came, Félix realized with mild frustration. “What about you?”
“I played his song on flute for my cousin’s birthday,” Félix scowled at the memory, “the refrain was so difficult, it took me days to get it right.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Viperion asked with warmth slowly seeping into his smile. “What did your cousin say?”
“Nothing coherent, at first,” he rolled his eyes, then pulled a few books and a pair of earphones from his table, “then he proceeded to attempt a grand speech about how I was his favorite cousin on the spot, failed, and forced me into playing the song again, but with an audio recorder at the ready.”
Viperion chuckled and it was such a low sound, Félix had to turn back to ensure he didn’t imagine it. Surely enough, Viperion’s shoulders were shaking, and he greeted him with eyes squinted from mirth.
He gazed a second too long before blinking and making his way towards the bed, “If you’re curious, I have the recording on my phone.
“Really?” the boy asked with suppressed eagerness in his eyes, shuffling back to give Félix space, “Can I hear it?”
A long, dramatic sigh was his only response before scrolling through his phone’s audio library to find the file titled “Best Cousin Ballad”
He leaned back on his elbows and forced the most displeased expression he could muster while the familiar sound of his flute resonated through his spacious room. As expected, Félix could recall every note of the cursed refrain that was burned into his mind.
However, his eyes were drawn to subtle movement in his peripherals. Wrapped in blankets and with a mirthful expression on his face, Viperion nodded his head to the beat of Jagged Stone’s song, eyes closed in bliss.
None of them spoke a word as the sound of Félix’s flute danced in the air, warming up the atmosphere with its quick tempo and lilting melody.
Félix merely tapped the familiar, uneven beat with his fingers, muted on the sheets, his displeasure melting into a blank expression as he observed his companion. The sight was such a strange phenomenon, causing strange reactions that no amount of diagrams or carefully constructed schemes could explain or predict. His mind exhibited a single image that was so rich with color, it momentarily stuttered, before adjusting to the new occurrence the only way it knows how - analysis.
The image contained a masked boy that introduced color to his monochrome room, framed like a portrait, presented in vertical composition. Warm lighting accentuated the brightness of the orange blanket settled around his shoulders and draped over his head, making the soft cloth look enticingly cozy. Shadows danced in the creases of the fabric with every nod of Viperion’s head, which lead Félix’s gaze to his face. The contrasting teal scales of his collar and mask captured the focus of the entire picture, rendering any outlines of background objects useless.
What a strangely enticing contrast it was, that teal against orange. Félix vaguely remembered his mother buying the blankets to “lighten up the room” but he could only find himself stuffing the gaudy things under his pillow or in a closet. Perhaps, a little contrast was all it took to give them a new appeal.
He could go on, but that line of thought made Viperion sound like a work of art, and Félix stopped himself before he could come to some ridiculous conclusion he might regret.
It would’ve been easy too, if it weren’t for Viperion opening his eyes and piercing him with his gaze. Suddenly, a chartreuse color was introduced to the picture before he could push it to the back of his mind and he didn’t have any artistic knowledge that could explain how did it overpower every other color in the room.
“That was really good. How long did it take you to practice that?”
It took him a few second to readjust to his usual thought process before delivering an answer.
“Two weeks. Initially, I thought it would take me one,” he rubbed his eyes with his fingers, trying to wipe away the yellow tint that flashed behind his eyelids. “Could you hand me the thermos and a mug?”
“Sure,” Viperion smiled, picking the thermos from the nightstand and pouring them both equal amounts before handing Félix his mug. “Since we’re on the topic, what are your-” he paused in hesitation, “-what are your thoughts on Jagged Stone?”
Félix grabbed the mug and welcomed the warm taste of coffee-
-only to pause no less than three seconds later.
He allowed himself to get distracted and as a result, brought not one, but two mugs with him, allowing his target to have access to the one thing that could ruin his plans to use Viperion’s snake-like nature against him. Caffeine.
Swiftly, he downed the entire mug in one go, tasting nothing but failure disguised as his saving grace.
He’s an idiot. An absolute idiot and an art connoisseur, apparently.
“That was quick,” Viperion noted with mild concern, “you okay?”
Félix looked back at his oblivious companion with a forced neutral expression as curses flit through his mind. He should’ve looked away. He hated colors. He hated them with a passion. If an Akuma or an Amok came with the ability to make people color-blind, he’d have no issue with that.
And yet, Viperion’s scales glittered against his orange blankets all the same, capturing his gaze once more and Félix couldn’t for the life of him stop the involuntary shiver that went down his spine as the pleasant contrast engulfed his vision.
He looked back at Viperion’s chartreuse eyes. Bright, emotional, and so, so distracting. He couldn’t look away.
“I’m fine,” he rushed to answer in monotone, pushing the mug back on the nightstand. His mind was already drawing a route to the bathroom, and while he power walked towards the door, he could feel Viperion’s gaze bore into his back. “Where are you going?”
Félix turned to him with his signature apathetic expression, but a judgmental gaze - an art connoisseur blaming the painting for his spilled wine.
“I’m getting you some new blankets. Orange doesn’t suit you at all.”