#Autistic Camilo

[toon-tales]

Autistic Camilo headcanon ?

Camilo may have a particular interest or passion that he delves deep into. Whether it's a specific subject, hobby, or talent, which, as we all know, is acting, writing mini plays with Bruno, maybe, or with Mirabel when they were young. Let's just say he finds solace in those things

He has a great memory for details and is highly observant. He notices things that others often miss, and can recall specific details of past events or conversations without difficulty

Camilo has sensory sensitivities, particularly to certain textures and sounds. He often wears soft, comfortable clothing

He has a unique way of expressing himself and communicating his thoughts and feelings. Sometimes, when he struggles to verbalize his ideas, he may resort to writing to calm his mind

Despite the challenges he may face, Camilo possesses a remarkable level of empathy. He deeply understands and connects with the emotions of those around him, providing invaluable support and comfort to his family and friends

Camilo is an autistic genius when it comes to music. He has a natural talent for playing multiple instruments and composing beautiful melodies

He narrates A LOT! Whether it's the town kids playing a football game, Isabela and Mirabel fighting, or just in his imagination

He has a really good memory! Like, the grandkids will be struggling to remember their lines for a play they're organizing (Like old times), then there's Camilo, who knows everyone's lines by heart

Camilo finds solace and comfort in routines and repetitive activities. He has specific rituals and patterns that help him feel more grounded and secure

He's either not diagnosed yet or he was diagnosed at the age of 8 or something, no between

So...i really wanted to write more but we barely got any Camilo scenes!

Hope you like this tho!

[sunshine-theseus]

Fools | Kyra Cooney-Cross x ND!Reader

Words: 4.3k

Summary: no one understood your mind, until you met Kyra.

Notes: Guys I have no knowledge of how Emirates is laid out, how meeting players off the pitch works etc, so I’m completely making this shit up I’m sorry. also sorry for the super long introduction, and the shit writing, I haven’t written in months.

Warnings: mentions of abuse - not proofread. i'm so sorry if this is so shit i genuinely haven't written in months. i wanted this one to be good so bad but i just don't think it is

the person who requested this has since deactivated so i actually feel so bad that i didn't get this out while they were on here. i'm genuinely so sorry for the past like 6 months.

I always struggled with social interactions. I didn’t understand it for a long time, why I always had to smile and hug people, why I had to lie about certain things like how I thought my aunt’s bright green hat looked, why I couldn’t ramble about Star Wars or the new penguin facts I just learned.

Then there were the sounds, and lights and the way things felt. Everything had to be specific, or I couldn’t focus. Sometimes if it was bad enough that I would have a breakdown, unable to do anything. My parents tried to scold it out of me when as a kid I couldn’t eat certain foods or wear the clothes they wanted. Sometimes if they deemed it worthy, I’d be met with the flesh of a palm against my cheek or bottom.

-

When I was 12, I presented the idea that maybe I was autistic to my parents. I’d researched it at school for a social emotional learning class we had to take, and I couldn’t help but notice the similarities I found within myself. If I think about it hard enough, I can feel every burning outline of the dark red hand marks that bloomed on my skin hours after the interaction, and the burning of my eyes as my stomach rumbled, drowned out by the music rumbling through my headphones.

-

At 17 I emancipated from my parents and moved to North Watford, renting out a small studio apartment above a record shop. I completed my final year of high school, working part time in the store, building a much-desired routine. The man that owned the shop and my apartment, and his young daughter, were migrants from Cuba, and more than happy to accommodate to my needs. They even chipped in to help me pay for my autism screening after I graduated high school.

I think they were the first people I willingly hugged ever.

I stopped masking when I moved, so the daughter, Elena; 5, took a few months to understand why I didn’t like touch or loud noises and why I didn’t understand some of the jokes she said that others usually laughed at. Not that I’d had the diagnosis at that time, but she was happy to just spend time with me. Every afternoon when I came back from school and started my shift, she’d beg me for more penguin facts, asking which was my favourite penguin. In return she’d spend the 2-hour shift drawing me something, usually a penguin, to pin on my corkboard at home.

I’d then help with her homework while Camilo closed shop and posted any online orders. It was a routine I cherished deeply.

-

Now, 3 and a bit years later at 21 years old, they managed to drag me to a football game. Equipped with headphones and a couple small sensory toys, as well as a hoodie under the “Miedema” jersey, the material of which originally had me tugging and prying the shirt away from my skin.

Elena and Camilo had been big fans of Arsenal for as long as I’d known them, going to every home game, begging me to join them every week without fail. I finally caved during a break in my uni courses, with nothing to do and Elena’s birthday falling on the day of a game, there was no other choice.

The newly 9-year-old basically imploded when she saw my printed ticket stub, tucked tightly into her birthday card. I gently ruffled her hair, which had become my version of hugging her, and showed her the 3 matching red and white #11 jerseys I purchased not long ago. She’d talked a lot about this Vivianne Miedema and how she wanted to be just like her when she grew up, but she’d never gotten a jersey, or seats on the bottom tier. Today was the day.

~

“Come ooonnn I want to get to our seats!” the pinky of her left hand links with my right one as her other hand is holding her dad’s, and she’s dragging us down the lane toward the entrance.

“Slow down Pollito! We have 20 more minutes until we need to be seated.” My special schedule for the day runs through my head as I check my watch. Plenty of time as long as the crowd keeps flowing.

“I wish you didn’t learn Spanish. It’s such a silly nickname.”

“But you’re my little chicken.” I send a joking frown her way and she replies with a toothless grin.

With the abrupt end to the conversation, we arrive at the gate. Showing the stewardess our tickets to be scanned, we then head toward our seats. As Camilo and I take our seats at the very front, instead of make way to their usual seats a tier up, Elena stops and looks back and forth between us.

“There’s no way you got us these seats.” Without a word I pull the girl in between us and she begins to ramble about how excited she is to be able to see the game so close, still able to be clearly heard through my headphones I manage to slip over my ears.

~

The game is drawn 1-1 just after half time, but Arsenal is close to having the upper hand. From across the pitch, Elena spots the tall and lanky number 11, Vivianne Miedema, pulling off her fluoro yellow bib and warm up shirt and lining up next to number 32 behind the fourth official who is prepping her sign. With a couple of whacks to my arm and an aggressive point of her finger, Elena makes me and Camilo very aware of the impending entrance of her favourite player, and another really attractive girl who is very obviously wearing her socks on the wrong feet. The thought makes me squirm but a shot on goal quickly manages to take my focus.

“Who’s the one coming on with Viv? You’ve never told me about number 32.” It’s hard to take my eyes off the girl as she jumps from one foot to the other, anticipating her entrance.

“Oh that’s Kyra Cooney-Cross! She’s Australian, she transferred at the start of the season. Jonas should play her more.” I acknowledge her words with a hum and a nod before we join in cheering Viv and Kyra on.

My eyes are glued to Kyra the rest of the game. Without any knowledge of how football works, I’m left to assume she’s good with the way she dances around players and passes the ball. It was weird, but her movement was so free flowing it would not be atrocious to confuse her with a ballerina. Elegant and calculated, no hesitation.

~

“Where are we going?” my pinky is once again linked with Elena’s as I drag her and Camilo through Emirates.

“Papa where is she going? The exit is that way.”

“I have no clue chica, but I suppose we should trust her aye?” with that, the father-daughter duo track behind me.

Eventually I stop just where the opening of the tunnel leads out on to the pitch and show a lady the pass I’d been carrying around all day. She smiles and begins walking down the tunnel, waving behind her as a sign for us to follow.

“What’s going on?” Elena asks once again, but I just follow the lady onto the pitch, where multiple members of the Arsenal squad are now loitering around, obviously waiting for something, or someone. At the front of the group is Viv, and when she spots the small girl behind me her eyes light up.

“Hi! You must be Elena. We’ve heard a lot about you!” she sends the girl a smile, but Elena doesn’t make any move to continue the conversation. My head whips to her and I nearly have to laugh from how adorable she is. Her jaw has dropped open and her eyes are welling up with tears, so I ruffle her hair and bend down to her height, removing my headphones.

“What’s up buttercup?” I lightly tap her head.

“That’s really her.” she whispers to me, her eyes not leaving the Dutch woman, who lets out a chuckle.

“Yes it is.”

“How?” I tap the side of my nose at her question indicating it’s to be left a secret.

“Can I have a hug?” Viv kneels on one knee and opens her arms and Elena suddenly breaks lose from her trance and runs up to her hero.

“It’s nice to meet you liefje, I hear you’ve been a fan for a long time. And today’s your birthday. How old are you turning?”

“Nine!”

“Oh wow, you’re growing up!”

“I know, but Y/N still calls me Pollito. I’m not a little chicken.” Everyone looking on bursts out laughing as Elena frowns, and while I join them, the loud sound simply reminds me of the lack of protection on my ears.

~

Elena gets whisked off to talk and play around with Viv and some of the other girls, who seem to all have taken a genuine liking to the young girl, Camilo following to watch over them. I stand firmly on the sidelines, fidgeting with an infinity cube and trying to forget the sudden scratching of my hoodie’s tag on the back of my neck and the tightness of my socks, when a now familiar face pops in front of me.

I don’t notice her at first, my eyes are closed and I’m trying breathing patterns in hopes that the overstimulating sensations with dissipate. It’s only when I open my eyes to check on Elena that I get the shock of my life. Number 32 is just standing in front of me, staring, waiting for me to notice her. no less than a minute ago she’d been spinning Elena around and laughing with her, which I’d found alarmingly adorable, how’d she get here so fast?

She doesn’t say anything, she just smiles and waves, and I realise she must think I can’t hear her with my headphones on, which many people tend to ignore. Wow she’s much prettier up close.

“Hi, I’m Y/N” I return her smile, but don’t make any move to remove the headphones.

“I’m Kyra.” Her voice is muffled but her accent is incredible and like music to my ears.

“You played really well today.” Is she blushing? Red creeps up her neck and finds home on her round cheeks as she smiles brightly.

“Ah thanks, I try to give it my all. Hoping to prove I deserve more game time.”

“You don’t get played often?” another chuckle passes her lips and I feel my stomach tighten.

“Uh no. I take it you’re not a big football fan?”

“What gives you that idea.”

“Well rocking up to an Arsenal game with blue nails for a start.” I cock my head to the side and give her a confused look. I did a lot of research for today, there was no room for me to mess up.

“Chelsea, our biggest rivals, their colour is blue. It’s basically forbidden for an arsenal fan to wear blue to a game. Trust me, I learnt the hard way.”

I’m quick to hide my hands in the pocket at the front of my hoodie, fidgeting with my nails. How did I manage to fuck that up?

“You don’t really have to worry, just maybe keep it in mind if you ever come to another game. I hope you do by the way.” She flashes me a smile that makes me feel warm and I can’t help myself.

“You’re very pretty.” She’s about to reply when I glance down and notice her socks are still wrong.

“And I’m not sure if you know but your socks are on the wrong feet.” It’s quiet for a moment and I’m not sure if my common candour has once again overstepped. I can’t even open my mouth to apologise before she giggles.

“I knew there was something wrong. I keep doing it but no one tells me until after the game… and you’re quite beautiful yourself. If you don’t mind me saying.” My eyes continue to avoid her face as I bounce on the balls of my feet and try to refrain from shaking my hands, my most common stim.

“Thank you.”

We’re silent for a minute or so, which I don’t mind now that I’m more familiar with her. I continue to watch Elena and Camilo, who are now playing in a 5v5, Viv carrying the girl halfway down their makeshift pitch before helping her kick the ball. When her laughs echo through the stadium, joy breaking through her screams and from the yells of her dad who is playing a rather poor referee, I’m reminded of how much I love this family. I can’t help the smile on my face.

“Your sister is very adorable.” I glance to my side where Kyra now resides and contemplate telling her she isn’t my sister, but the words get stuck in my throat. If I were to say they weren’t my family after all they’ve done for me, then I’d be lying.

“Yeah. She’s basically my whole life.”

“Hey can I ask about the headphones? I mean you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want but-“

“I’m autistic. Struggle really bad with sound and other stimulants. I wear headphones to dampen sounds, especially in public. And stadiums are full of sounds.” My palms sweat a little and my breath is laboured for a moment. This is usually the part where people decide I’m a freak and never talk to me again.

“Oh cool. I totally get that, the sound thing.” That warm feeling returns. She doesn’t question anything, she just agrees.

~

Eventually the meet and greet had to end, but I manage to get a few of the girl’s numbers, including number 32’s. Something I hadn’t expected was that the team would love Elena so much that they wanted to organise season tickets and some more passes to meet up after home games. I couldn’t help but be a little proud of myself as the young girl rambled about how amazing it was to get to hang out with her idols, and the prospect of seeing them again.

~

Uni starts back up the following week, so I don’t join the two for a game for quite a while. Despite that, I find myself texting Kyra most days, a good morning and goodnight routine quickly being established. We ask each other questions about each other. ‘What did you want to be if football didn’t work out?’ ‘What made you want to study your course?’ ‘what’s your favourite thing about Australia?’.

She liked to ask me about parts of my autism every now and then. She wanted to know what things to avoid, what topics made me ramble for ages, safe foods. The only other people who had ever cared this much were Elena and Camilo. The two of which had definitely taken note of how happy I’d grown since the game.

“Who are you talking to Angelito? You haven’t smiled this big in a long time.” Camilo takes a seat beside me behind the desk of the store

There is no need to hide the blossoming relationship from him, so I turn my screen to show the messages between Kyra and I, a bold ‘No. 32’ under a very weird but unmistakable picture of the girl. He hums and smiles, lightly nudging our shoulders together.

“She likes you.”

“Pft no she doesn’t.”

“‘you’re so cute.’ ‘I really like you.’ ‘I’ll save that for when I take you on a date.’ With a winky face emoji. She literally admits she likes you. Twice.”

“I thought that was that flirty thing people do with their friends.”

“I know when people like each other.”

“How Milo?”

“I have a gift.”

“A gift hmm?” he just smiles widely down at me before taking my phone again. He begins to type something.

“What are you writing Milo? Milo!” I glance over his shoulder.

‘I really like you and would like to go on a date if you’re free.’ I’m about to scold him but three dots appear as Kyra begins typing.

“If this works you owe me an extra hour this week.”

“You are an evil schemer Camilo.” I say before squeezing his shoulder, a common sign of affection we’d developed.

‘I’d really like that. Tomorrow’s our day off if that works.’

I can’t help the squeal I let out as Camilo writes a response in confirmation.

“I’m going on a date.”

“You deserve this kiddo.”

~

Kyra and I agree on a dinner date at a restaurant I’d mentioned really enjoying a few months ago, that I hadn’t had a chance to visit since. I’d made the reservation, asking for the specific table I’d sat at the last time I came, and I’d already decided on what I was getting before I even hoped in the car to drive there.

I’d planned everything perfectly. The place, my outfit, what time I had to leave to arrive there 10 minutes before our agreed upon time. I hadn’t taken into account the car speeding through a red light and crashing into the car in the right lane beside me. Or the fact that due to the momentum I’d get caught between the 2 cars and the building on the corner of the street I was just about to turn down. No more than 15 metres from the restaurant but I’m trapped and the seatbelt is too tight and my head hurts. I’m crushed between my door and the centre console and all the sirens and ambulance lights approaching are too much and all I can do it cry.

If I could just reach my bag in the footwell of the passenger seat I could get my headphones to relieve some of the stimulation, but I can’t bend that way without my ribs screaming and whatever is poking my hip in my back making itself known.

I pray to every god I can name that I pass out, but no one hears as the jaws of life pry open my door. When were the other cars moved?

“Ma’am we have to cut you out. my colleague here is going to hold you up. Is that okay?” I don’t have any energy to say no, so I nod, waiting for some scissors to snip away at the seatbelt. Instead, I hear an electric saw whir to life.

“W- what’s the saw for?” my words are barely recognisable as they slur together.

“Ma’am everything is okay, just stay still for us okay?”

The sawing is over quicker than it begun, and the paramedics make an effort to move me as carefully as they can onto the stretcher, then into the ambulance. I make no move to complain about how the neck brace is itchy and feels suffocating.

A minute passes and through the newly developed ringing in my ears, I hear someone calling my name. they sound so far away but when I open my eyes again, Kyra is standing above me, next to the paramedic who’s hooking me up to monitors,

“Do you know this lady ma’am?” she asks me as I stare up at the girl I was meant to be on a date with.

“Yeah she’s my girlfriend.” A voice in the back of my head is worried that maybe that will freak Kyra out, but I know they won’t let her ride with me if we don’t have some close connection and for some reason friend does not cross my mind.

They allow her to take the extra seat beside me and she loops her pinky with mine. She keeps glancing down toward my stomach and taking deep breaths as we make our way down the streets of London. I try to see what she’s looking at but the brace doesn’t allow me to look that far down.

“You’re going to be okay.” She whispers as they roll me out of the ambulance, and she manages to quickly kiss me before I’m gone from view.

~

I don’t know how long I’m out for, but when I wake up there is a sterile white light beaming down on me and I have to instantly close my eyes. I’m quick to take note of the horrible feeling of the hospital gown I definitely wasn’t in when I’d gone under.

“Papa! She’s awake!” I let out a groan at the yell but and quick to smile once the voice registers in my head.

“Pollito.” My voice is no more than a whisper, hoarse and dry.

“Hey Angelito. How are you feeling.”

“Horrible. The light’s too bright and the gown is so itchy.” Neither Elena nor Camilo leave my side, but the light is off within seconds.

“I more meant physically. You were hit pretty hard.” The screeching of tyres, the smell of burnt rubber, the flashing lights, all rush back to me. So does the pain.

“Now that you mention it. What’s the damage?” it’s meant as a joke but I’m trying not to cry.

“3 broken ribs, 2 fractured, a torn vastus lateralis in your thigh, a lot of muscle damage in your back. It’s going to be a lot of physical therapy kiddo.” The thought has bile rising in my throat.

“Fuck me.”

“It’s okay, we’re going to be here the whole way. All of us.” By now I could know the voice in a crowd of people.

I turn my head and there she is. Kyra is sat in one of the uncomfortable hospital seats with her hand on top of mine.

“If it’s okay with you, Camilo, me and some of the arsenal girls are going to sort out a schedule to take turns helping you with PT. Viv was really hoping she could give some tips considering how long she spent doing PT.”

“That sounds perfect. But please tell me one of you has my pyjamas. I need to get out of this gown.”

~

There was no lie in how difficult rehab was. I had an hour appointment at the hospital every day and additional work at home that Milo, Kyra and some of the arsenal girls happily helped with. The hardest hurdle was amount of physical touch that was required. My physical therapist, Jordan, always made sure I knew when she needed to touch my leg or something, but that did very little to sooth the feeling that crawled beneath my skin. She was able to dim the fluorescent white lights and allowed me to wear my headphone which did help a small amount.

Kyra basically moved into my room above the shop. Milo insisted he could do all the work of getting me around the house and the shop, but we knew he couldn’t while maintaining the shop and looking after Elena. Elena tried her best to help by making me breakfast. She gathered pre-made versions of my safe breakfast food and carefully place them separately on a plate, with a glass of orange juice every morning. After the first week she realised I’d be in a wheelchair and struggling to move around much for much longer than she thought, so she quickly gave up on that idea and began making me penguin drawings at school.

I’d adapted to having Kyra around much quicker than I expected to. When I moved in at 17, it took me months to get used to the layout and the fact that I was alone, despite Camilo and Elena living in the house across the road. I adapted to Kyra’s presence within weeks.

After the second week we’d decided it was easier to share the bed rather than her sleeping on the couch, which had been the biggest change. I struggled with it the first few nights. I had a sleep routine that was already disrupted by the injuries, now I had to take another person into account. But she was so warm, and I felt so safe in her arms. Whenever I woke up from a nightmare about the crash, she grabbed me an iced tea and my headphones and would ramble about whatever interests she had recently developed or whatever was happening at training.

It was in the second month things took a more serious turn. Well serious for our relationship. I was sitting at the table chopping the vegetables for dinner while she begins cooking, when I took a minute to just look at her. The warm lighting softened her features, her quiet humming to whatever song was playing carried throughout the room, the smile that seemed to never leave her face sat perfectly on her lips as she listened to me ramble about the newly discovered yellow king penguin. She was so radiant and attentive, and she was never annoyed at me when I was overstimulated or wanted to infodump. She was seemingly unaffected by my rehab and most importantly unaffected by my autism. After a life full of negative interactions and losing people because of one thing I couldn’t control, I’d found a family and a partner who embraced me.

I didn’t realise I was crying until she turned and asked me what was wrong.

“I’m just grateful.”

“For what?”

“You, Milo, Elena. I love you all so much.” I didn’t realise I’d said it really. I was just being candid, as I always was.

“You love me?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation even as it dawned on me.

“Well, I love you too.” There is a split second between the end of her sentence and the meeting of our lips in a kiss.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” I ask as we pull away.

“Wait- I thought- when you called me your girlfriend on the ambulance I kind of took that as you asking me to be your girlfriend.” She begins laughing.

“What? This whole time I’ve been nervous about actually asking you and you already thought I had?” I can’t help but join her laugh.

“We’re such fools.” She whispers, and we kiss again.

I'll always be a fool for her.

[igetthedisneybox]

Hugo Madrigal

Inspired by @hannahhook7744's Encanto AU, and her own character headcanons.

Third image made using https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1558575

Fourth image made using https://www.dolldivine.com/la-colombiana

Fifth image made in Disney Dreamlight Valley

Hugo’s full name is Hugo Diego Madrigal.

His first name means “mind”, and his middle name means “teaching”. 

He is the first adopted child of Camilo Madrigal and Marcos Vasquez.

He has slightly curly black hair, brown skin, and brown eyes. He has a tiny mustache that he worked very hard for, and will never shave.

He is fourteen years old.

He has two younger biological brothers, José, younger by five years, and Héctor, younger by eight.

He likes girls, but is single.

His gift is the ability to manipulate insects. He acts as the queen bee or ant of any insect he sees, and is able to control them that way. He personally loves his gift, and the Encanto has no problems with it either…it’s him they dislike.

His door portrays him smiling, with his arms stretched out on either side of him in a t-pose. Various flying insects swarm around him.

His room looks like an entomologist’s dreamhouse. The floors and walls are wood, and the walls are covered in informational posters about insects and bugs, as well as dead (of natural causes) ones pinned up in glass cases. His bed has bug-patterned sheets. He has potted plants everywhere, and on every available flat surface are his pet bugs in terrariums. Pepito’s perch sits by his bed.

His symbol is a horned beetle, mid flight.

Hugo is very quiet, and Camilo is very loud. They don’t always see eye to eye, but Camilo never makes Hugo feel lesser for his oddities.

Marcos and Hugo are both quiet, and they seem to understand each other more than Camilo. As Marcos was an orphan too, he can also connect to him through that experience.

His birth parents were very neglectful of him and his brothers before they died when he was eight. Hugo was essentially the only parent José and Héctor had, and he rarely ever saw their actual parents. Hugo doesn’t hold them in very high regard.

José, like Camilo, is loud and eccentric, compared to Hugo’s calm quiet. They get along better though, because they lived with their birth parents for the longest, and Hugo basically had to raise José.

Héctor was much too young to remember their parents, but Hugo still acts like a surrogate parent to him. They both are more quiet, and so get along better. Pepito the toucan also loves Héctor.

He ends up hanging out with the other “outcast” cousins: Sofía, Fuega, Andrés, Zoe, and Óscar, not because of his gift, but because of ableism.

He gets along best with Bruno, Dolores, and Zoe.

He is autistic and selectively mute. This is the reason why so many townspeople shun him.

His Tio Antonio gave him a service animal, in the form of Pepito the toucan. Pepito helps him stim, and negates his anxiety.

His favorite bugs are butterflies, beetles, bees, and ants.

Despite the fact that he barely talks, he gives the best advice, and is very wise for his age.

He doesn’t like large crowds, and prefers to stick with his cousins when they go into town.

His favorite colors are yellow, red, pink, and orange.

[honeybeebytheseaa]

Well these comics have brought the fandom together on three things….

Bruno is autistic, Mirabel is short, and Camilo is a dumbass.

[apieters]

The Setting of The Princess Bride

Based on my autistically detailed reading of the book and details of the movie, I have come to the conclusion that The Princess Bride is set in the first half of the 17th Century (1600-1650), and very plausibly in the year 1635, in the Baltic regions of Northern Europe.

The location is the simplest thing to establish: while the movie establishes only that Florin and Guilder are generically European and separated by a channel of water, the book explicitly states that Florin is located between modern-day Germany and Sweden. Florin is thus likely a microstate in the Baltics, probably to the east of Denmark but fairly close. Guilder, then, would be a Scandinavian microstate on the Swedish coast.

The date takes more work to establish, but I have based my thinking primarily on the details of the fencing masters referenced in the story and cross-checking the characters' own life events with real-world history. Below, I will outline the details I used to triangulate the date of the 1630’s.

The Six-Fingered Sword and Inigo Montoya’s Training in Fencing

Much of the evidence for a date of 1635 comes from Inigo Montoya’s backstory in the novel; specifically, the fencing styles he uses. This gives us a general era that we can then narrow down with details from other characters.

The film mention several known historical fencing masters, all dating to the late 16th and early 17th century, namely Rocco Bonetti (no treatise written, active 1569-1587), Ridolfo Capoferro (1610), Gerard Thibault (active 1611-1629, published 1630), and Camilo Agrippa (published 1553, highly influential on all European fencing into the 17th century).

The book, however gives us many more details in Inigo Montoya’s more fully-developed backstory.

The Six-Fingered Sword was creating over the course of a year, when Inigo was 9, and completed when Inigo was 10. At 12, Inigo Montoya began to study the blade. He attained mastery—or wizardry, the rank beyond mastery—by age 22. He is about 30 years old at the time of The Princess Bride. 

The earliest fencing master Inigo studied was Marozzo. Marozzo died in 1553, but his treatise was reprinted until 1615. If Inigo started training around the time Marozzo was popular enough to still be in print, he would have had to have started his training in about 1615 at the latest. That being said, Marozzo was known and cited by Marcelli and others as late as the 1680’s, long after his book was out of fresh print, so Marozzo probably isn’t the best master to date Inigo’s studies. 

Inigo studies Rocco Bonetti’s style of fencing. Rocco Bonetti moved to England in 1569 and died in 1587. Bonetti wrote no known treatise, but his assistant (and possibly son) Jeronimo taught fencing alongside Vincentio Saviolo, who did write a treatise in 1595 but probably studied independently of Bonetti. Nevertheless, Jeronimo and Saviolo were a united teaching team, and so Bonetti’s style must not have been so foreign to Saviolo to prevent Bonetti’s boy from working with him. Saviolo was dead by 1599 and his style did not long outlive him. The Bonetti reference thus favors as early a date for Inigo’s training as possible, and thus an early date for the creation of the Six-Fingered Sword (and hints that Inigo traveled to England or met an English expatriate or mercenary, perhaps serving in the Netherlands in the Eighty Years War).

Henri de Sainct Didier is mentioned. Sainct-Didier was active from the 1550’s to 1573, further favoring an earlier date. However, Inigo is described using only a single technique, so he may have simply gotten his hands in the book and learned from the book. Alternatively, Inigo traveled through France on his way north and learned Sainct-Didier’s style in France, or met a French expatriate or mercenary in the Low Countries during the Eighty Years War.

Inigo studied Fabris. Salvator Fabris was active from as early as the 1570's and became fencing master to King Christian IV of Denmark in 1601, publishing his treatise in 1606. That treatise was highly influential, especially in Northern Europe, and was republished until the early 18th century. This indicates that Inigio Montoya likely spent most of the years of his study in Northern Europe, keeping his eyes out for the Florinese Count Rugen.

Inigo studied Capoferro. Ridolfo Capoferro’s treatise was published in 1610 and continued to be republished until 1652. Thibault in his treatise makes clear references to Capoferro’s recommendations on blade length, and it seems that the “common fencing” of the Netherlands at the time Thibault was writing his treatise (1628 or so) was Capoferro’s style. So perhaps 1610 is the most practical early date for the beginning of Inigo’s training, without eliminating earlier dates. It is also likely that Inigo learned Capoferro in the Low Countries.

The latest master Inigo Montoya studied was Thibault’s style, and Thibault is mentioned frequently in the text, indicating that he’s something of a touchstone for Inigo. Thibault’s method was public and celebrated from 1611 until his death in 1629. Thibault’s manual was published in 1630, about a year after his death. Few outside him practiced the style, but more in Spain (Inigo Montoya's native country) practiced La Verdadera Destreza, on which Thibault was based. So Inigo Montoya, sometime in his 10 years of study, learned Thibault's fencing style. Whether Inigo learned Thibault's style from the book or the man himself is unknown, but his 10 years of study must overlap with any of the years between 1611 and 1630.

Some time after learning Thibault, Inigo studied under the purely fictional MacPherson the Scot, who criticized Thibault. It is interesting to note that many Scots in the 17th century made their fortunes as mercenaries, often rising to high rank in foreign service, and thus if Inigo Montoya was in the Low Countries during the Eighty Years War, we can plausibly imagine MacPherson as a legless crippled veteran of that conflict who continued to make a living teaching dirty tricks with the sword to anyone who was willing to listen and pay.

If Thibault was the last master Inigo studied, and MacPherson the last he trained with, the earliest time Inigo would have started training was 1602, training with Thibault himself just around the time he demonstrated his system for Prince Maurice of Nassau in 1611. This would place the creation of the sword at 1600 at the earliest. This means that Inigo’s training would most likely have taken place anywhere between 1602-1612 at the earliest and the setting of The Princess Bride 1620-1630 at the earliest.

There is, however, no real end period for when the sword was created—long rapiers continued to be used in Northern Europe well into the 1670’s, though perhaps of moderated length. The last fluerit of classically imagined rapiers would probably be 1640-1650. Additionally, we have no idea when and how Inigo studied Marozzo—only a brief mention is made in the book, but far more information is given on Thibault. If we make ~1650 the latest date of The Princess Bride, then Inigo’s sword would have been created in ~1630 at the latest. This would also allow for the publication of Thibault’s fencing manual. Inigo’s training would thus have ended in 1642 at the very latest.

A certain "McBone mentioned in the book could be a reference to Donald McBane, a Scottish soldier, fencing master and all-around troublemaker who was active between 1687-1726. This would be an outlier from the book, but "McBone" could also be an entirely fictious person like his fellow Scot, Macpherson. Again, it is entirely plausible that Scottish mercenary serving in the Low Countries would be available in the early 17th century to meet and teach Inigo Montoya.

The final list of real-life fencing masters mentioned in the book include Bonetti, Sainct-Didier, Fabris, Capoferro, Thibault, and Agrippa, as well as Marozzo.

These pieces of evidence alone place the Princess Bride squarely in the first half of the 17th century (1600-1650). But can we narrow things down even more? I say yes.

Wesley's Adventures on the High Seas

Wesley's career as the Dread Pirate Roberts also helps us narrow down the date of The Princess Bride within the early 17th century.

The Americas have already been discovered—that was Wesley’s destination in the books when he goes off to earn the money to marry Buttercup—so it must be after 1492.

Buttercup is 21 during the main events of The Princess Bride, and 18 when she believes Wesley to be dead. During the main events of The Princess Bride, Wesley is about 25, so he must have left at around age 22. He is thus about 5 years younger than Inigo Montoya.

If Inigo Montoya’s sword was forged between 1600 and 1630 (with 1600-1613 being the most likely) when he was 9-10 (10-11 in the movie), then The Princess Bride takes place about 22 years later. Thus, the main storyline takes place between 1622 and 1650, with 1622 to 1635 being the most likely.

Wesley would have gone to sea and been captured 3 years or so before the events of the main story (5 years in the movie). Wesley was also heading to the Americas by way of London. British colonization of the Americas began in 1607 with the founding of Jamestown, Virginia. This agrees with the date range given. The specific destination, however, are the Carolinas, which were not founded until 1663. However, in 1629, Charles I did give a charter to Sir Robert Heath to start a colony there--a project which was never realized for reasons that Wikipedia does not specify. Piracy, perhaps?

When Inigo Montoya fences Wesley in the novel, he mentions that Wesley uses the styles of Agrippa, Thibault, the fictional McBone, and Capoferro, further agreeing with the date range.

So, there we have it: The Prince Bride takes place in the Baltic regions of Northern Europe between 1629-1635. Now, for fun, let's create a plausible timeline of when the various events take place:

Possible Timeline of The Princess Bride (Mostly for Sword-Related Purposes)

1614-Domingo Montoya is commissioned to make a sword for the 6-fingered Count Rugen. Marozzo is still in print. Saviolo has been dead for 20 years, Bonetti longer, Sainct-Didier longer still. The books of Marozzo, Saviolo and Sainct-Didier survive. Fabris is alive and active. Capoferro's manual has been published.

1615-Domingo Montoya is murdered by Count Rugen, and Inigo claims the 6-Fingered Sword.

1616-Inigo Montoya lives with Yeste, his father's friend. Thibault first publicly demonstrates his fencing system.

1617-1627-Inigo Montoya trains in fencing. Given his expertise in Italo-English, French, and Dutch fencing treatises, as well as Italian treatises popular in the Netherlands and Northern Europe (Fabris and Capoferro), and his experience with Scottish fencing masters, it is likely that Inigo Montoya spent a substantial amount of time in the Netherlands, where many such nationalities converged. Given that Florin and Guilder are described as north-German/Scandinavian countries, this makes sense for him to travel so far north from Spain in search of Count Rugen, perhaps via the Spanish Netherlands. It is possible that he studied with Thibault himself in this time period, since Thibault’s book was not published.

1630 (movie)/1632 (book): Wesley sets sail for the Americas—the Carolinas, to be exact—perhaps an expedition to explore territory for a new colony which, thanks to the Dread Pirate Roberts, never comes to fruition. Captured by the Dread Pirate Roberts (Felix Raymond Ryan).

1630/1632 until 1633: Wesley serves as valet to Roberts.

1633 until 1635: Wesley becomes the new Dread Pirate Roberts.

1635: The events of The Princess Bride.

[foggyfanfic]

I think the thing that keeps me hooked on Encanto and Bruno is the implications of a mentally ill person in this setting.

Like he is all but confirmed mentally ill, and it’s not a curse, it’s not a metaphor, it’s not even PTSD or Cinematic Crazy Disorder, he has OCD. He has real person OCD, we know his compulsions and can make pretty good guesses at his triggers and obsessions, it is OCD. In a lot of fantasy we know that surely mental illness must exist, because presumably these people have brains and brains are where mental illness is stored, but we don’t often receive confirmation that it does exist. Even when characters start showing signs of PTSD, mileage varies on accuracy, and it often gets hand waved as normal trauma instead of clearly being a disorder that could potentially require a doctor’s help to treat. They have yet to state in canon that Bruno has OCD, but they put it into the script, they built it into his character, and they didn’t even go for the usual Has to Have Everything Neat and Tidy variety that we see in media, instead they’ve made a point to show his compulsions and generalized anxiety. This isn’t Detective Procedural OCD, it’s Based on My Aunt OCD.

And that more than anything has me thinking about the structure of this society and this family. I find myself writing mentally ill OC’s for this fandom more than for others because it feels more organic in the Encanto verse than it does the Buffy verse. I spend more time wondering about Alma and her family history, does she have a cousin or siblings that are like Bruno, or does she just assume he’s like that because of the magic? It seems obvious to me that the Madrigal family tends toward anxiety disorders, and after the comics I’m more convinced Bruno is autistic as well as having OCD, how long until some doctor comes to town and is like “Oh, hey! You guys all have mental illnesses!”? It’s the 50’s in the movie, so knowledge of this stuff ain’t great, but Mirabel would be 89(?) today, her grandkids might have been diagnosed, her great grandkids would definitely be the right generation to receive a diagnosis. Oof, but we saw when Encanto first came out that some people consider mental illness to be a White Thing, so how does the intersection of racism and colorism affect this? Does the great grand kid that looks like Pepa have an easier time getting anti-anxiety meds than the great grandkid that looks like Félix?

I should actually probably take my ADHD meds or this is going to get long.

I’ve been weaving Adelaide into more stories because she was originally designed as a vehicle for Camilo to have heavily autistic kids and grandkids, but ever since writing Juan I keep thinking about the experiences of two autistic kids in a rural village that doesn’t know what that is yet. And I want to play with that! Like he doesn’t struggle with facial expressions so he would fly under the radar, but she does struggle with proper emoting so she doesn’t. On the other hand, he went through a very showy phase that got him labeled annoying, but she’s a girl, and quiet, and society likes that. He has a good relationship with his family, so he has mentors and friends; but she has a bad relationship with her family so she has a found family and when Bruno comes out of the walls she would cling to him because he is an Adult that is Like Her. His special interest is math and math is useful so he gets plenty of opportunities to play with it, her special interest is stars and that’s cool and all but stars are not a job. How do people in rural 1950’s handle sensory issues? How accepting are people of those with mental illness when they don’t realize that’s why little Romero is like that?

And what about the downsides of untreated mental illness? We see through Bruno how isolating that can be, but I inherited my broken brain from my mother and she has taught me all the ways NOT to handle it. How many people in Encanto are self medicating because they have bipolar disorder and no clue that’s what’s happening? I read that folks with autism or OCD can often get swept up in fundamentalism because the rigid Right vs Wrong world view presses all the right disorder buttons for them. So how many of the most heavily Catholic people in town are mentally ill?

Oh my god and schizophrenia! I read that hallucinations and delusions can often reflect the culture surrounding the person with the disorder. So! In Encanto, a paradise that’s surrounded by a super violent conflict (because this is taking place in Actual Real World Colombia in the mid-20th century), what does that look like? Do they have aural hallucinations where they think they can hear distant sounds of screaming? Do they have delusions that they’re keeping the miracle alive by never letting their candles burn all the way down? How does the culture of the Encanto affect people with schizophrenia?! How are those people treated?!

I know it’s a Disney property, so obviously they’re not going to release a series that does a deep dive into what mental illness in the Encanto looks like but ugh! I have so many questions, do I really have to write all the answers myself?! Rude. I mean, I’m going to do it, if I have the time and energy I am one hundred percent going to write a story about being a mentally ill person in a magic rural village. But still!

Stay tuned for a longer story about Adelaide than I’d ever planned to write, and a stream of consciousness about how Julieta’s gift should affect PTSD. If I get around to it.

[thestraydogsarehere]

Introduction!

prologue: where does it begin?

Hello there~ this is going to be my system blog! I am a professionally diagnosed C-DID system! I have a lot of alters, however, i have integrated several over the years as i strive for recovery. my goal is to eventually get down to less than 15 alters. i have a good amount now, some that i dont even know about. i am FICTIVE HEAVY! i will be using this account to spread as much knowledge as possible about the disorder, as well as answering questions, and giving a free space for the sillies in my head to post random shit. i do not allow littles to post or interact with randoms on the the internet. only trusted friends are permitted to talk to our littles under supervision of one of our caregivers in our brain. anyways, here's Wonderwall!

chapter one: who am i?

System Name: The Stray Dogs

System Type: C-DID (Polyfragmented)

Current Host: Wanderer 🤯

Collective Name: Clown 🤡 (internet only!)

Collective Identity: FtM! 🏳️‍⚧️

Collective Pronouns: he/it/cir/ser

Age: 25 😎

Relationship Status: Single :(

Relationship Type: ambiamorous!!!

Zodiac: ♏️☀️♑️🌙♋️↗️

MBTI: ENTP 😔😔😔

Other: I am Autistic!

chapter two: who are they?

here is a list of my current known Alters! organized by subsystems, the last group is of alters not otherwise in a subsystem. each alter will have their emoji(s) next to them, littles and alters that are not permitted to post will not have emojis. the rest will tag their posts with these emojis.

Overall Host:

Wanderer 🌪️

Genshin Galore Subsystem:

Host: Kaeya ❄️

Aether 💫

Albedo 🖌️

Alhaitham 🗂️

Arataki Itto 🪲

Arlecchino 🥀

Ayato ⚜️

Chongyun 🍦

Columbina 💠

Gorou 🐶

Heizou 🔎

Kaveh 📐

Lumine 🌙

Ningguang 💸

Pantalone 💳

Tartaglia 💰

Thoma 🐕

Venti 🍾

Xiao 🍲

Murder House Subsystem:

Host: Violet Harmon 🪻

Azusa Mukami 🩸

Juuzou Suzuya ⛓️‍💥

Yui 💝

Zack 🔪

Red Flag Subsystem:

Host: Dazai 💉

Akechi Goro 🦹🏻

Ciel 🎩

Daz 🧣

Hakuryuu 🌖

Kururi 👯‍♀️

Nikolai 🤡

Signora 🔥

Sirius ✝️

Malice Subsystem:

Host: Izyrim 🧿

Klaus 💀

Rika

Shiro ❤️‍🩹

Toto Sakigami 🐍

Touya Todoroki 🦋

The rest:

707 💾

Aki Karito 🕷️

Aleksei ☦️

Alyx 🩹

Aru Akise 🪓

Autumn

Baizhu 🦠

Bakugou 💥

Billie 🪷

Blade 🗡️

Bruno 🪬

Camilo 🎭

Castiel 🧥

Celty Sturluson 🏍️

Chalistice ⚱️

Cherie 🍒

Chrissy 💞

Chuuya 🍷

Chloe 💋

Corpse ⛓️

Cyno 😭

Damian Desmond

Daniel 📺

Dave 😎

Dazz 🏳️‍🌈

Death the Kid ⚖️

Edgar 🦝

Ei 🎆

Erza 🐦‍🔥

Ezra 🏳️‍⚧️

Ezrael 👼🏼

Freminet🪝

Fyodor ♟️

Galo 👨🏻‍🚒

Gojo Satoru 👁️

Grell ♥️

Haitham ♦️

Hajime 👎🏻

Hideyoshi Nagachika ☕️

Himeko 🎴

Himiko Toga 🩻

Hinami 📚

Ivan 🖋️

Izuku 📔

Jōno Saigiku 🦇

Judal 🦂

Junko 🚫

Kagome 🏹

Kagura 🪞

Karkat 👽

Klee

Kunikuzushi 🧱

Loid Forger 🔑

Lyney 🃏

Macalo 🔇

Masaomi 🟨

Matt 🕹️

Mavis Vermillion 🌸

MC 📱

MC (Dangerous Fellows) 🧟‍♂️

Mika 🧛🏻

Mikey 🍔

Moomin 🛤️

Mymble 🤰🏼

Nagisa 🕸️

Near 🎲

Noriko Sonozaki 🧬

Number Five 🕳️

Ochako 🆙

Osamu Dazai ⚰️

Pepa ⛈️

Rachel 🪡

Ranpo 👓

Rantaro 🗾

Ruri 🎤

Saeran 💽

Saibyr/Glitch-606 💻

Sal Fisher 🎸

Sawyer Quinn 🧪

Scaramouche ⏳

Shiemi 🪴

Shinra Kishitani 🥼

Shinsou Hitoshi 😵‍💫

Shizuo 🚏

Shoto Todoroki 🌦️

Shuichi ⁉️

Sigma 🎰

Smiley/Nahoya 😁

Sophie 👒

Strawberry Shortcake 🍓

Takemichi Hanagaki 🕝

Vanitas ♣️

Veronica Sawyer 💣

Vriska 🎱

Yato 🪙

Yoosung 👾

Zelda 🔆

chapter three: what are my limits?

BYF:

i am sensitive to vomit and eye injuries! i also do not honor requests to speak to specific alters. i dont like purposefully forcing myself to switch. i love making friends! be over 18 though! i block freely. if i share a post from a problematic account, lmk. if i interact with a bad person (abuser, pedo, etc), lmk. i will handle it.

DNI:

fakeclaimers, anti self diagnosis, proship, endosystems and anyone who believes you can be a system without trauma, and Minors!!! id prefer NSFW stay off this page as well. also basic DNI applies.

Epilogue: This is not goodbye.

Hope you all enjoy this page! i hope to interact with some of you! loooove and peaaccee on planet earth <3

[paukitstuff]

secondary blog / blog secundario: @cookierun-myau

PFP: @pridewishes

Tags:

Drawings/dibujos: #paukdraw

Videos: #paukvideo

Introducción! /Introduction!

[ESP/ENG]

ESP:

Hola! Mi nombre es Paulina, pero en el Internet soy más conocida como PauKit :D tengo 19 años y soy de Argentina, soy una persona autista y me ENCANTA el arte (de verdad, cualquier tipo de arte) voy por el pronombre "ella" y soy Pansexual uwu

Mis pasatiempos mayormente son cantar, dibujar, escribir, formar escenarios ficticios de mis hiperfijaciones en mi cabeza, y escuchar música!

Actualmente mis fandoms son:

• Cookie Run

• Dandy's world

• Animal Crossing

• The Amazing Digital Circus

• Disney, amo Disney

DNI: Personas que solo buscan tirar odio (incluye homofóbicos, transfóbicos, capasitistas, etc), p3d0filos, shippers de lo anterior e incesto, ancient x bestia de CRK (no el shipper, solo el ship), TERFs, seguidor de LGB sin la T

Extras: tengo varios mecanismos de copia para mis problemas (incluye hacer escenas "heart warming" con personajes de los fandoms en los que estoy, hacer roleplay con mis "comfort characters" [mayormente en Character AI] y cantar/escuchar canciones con las que le identifico), mis ships favoritos de Cookie run son Wildchip (Wildberry Cookie x Crunchy Chip Cookie) y Mintcocoa (Mint Choco Cookie x Cocoa) y mis ships favoritos de Animal Crossing son Tom Nook x Sable (Mili en español) y CJ x Flick (Camilo en español)

ENG:

Hello! My name is Paulina, but on the Internet I'm better known as PauKit :D I am 19 years old and I'm from Argentina, I'm an autistic person and I LOVE art (really, any kind of art) I go by the pronouns "she/her" and I'm Pansexual uwu

My hobbies are mostly singing, drawing, writing, forming fictional scenarios of my hyperfixations in my head, and listening to music!

Currently my fandoms are:

• Cookie Run

• Dandy's world

• Animal Crossing

• The Amazing Digital Circus

• Disney, I love Disney

DNI: People who only seek to spread hate (includes homophobes, transphobes, ableists, etc.), p3d0philes, people that ship that last thing plus incest, ancient x beast from CRK (not the shipper, only the ship), TERFs, LGB without the T supporter

Extras: I have several copy mechanisms for my problems (includes doing "heart warming" scenes with characters from the fandoms I'm in, roleplaying with my "comfort characters" [mostly in Character AI] and singing/listening to songs that I identify with), my favorite Cookie run ships are Wildchip (Wildberry Cookie x Crunchy Chip Cookie) and Mintcocoa (Mint Choco Cookie x Cocoa) and my favorite Animal Crossing ships are Tom Nook x Sable and CJ x Flick

[victor-aguilar]

since i still cant decide...

please pleqse help me choose one

[fireopals]

Based off this incorrect Encanto quote by @ambidextrous-space-samurai

[a-walking-fandom-reference]

encanto is SO NEURODIVERGENT like no one in this movie is neurotypical

[brunofanfiction]

🥺 Best Tío: Bruno! 🥺

Master List (Pt.1)

🥺 A Madrigal gets Sick

“Mirabel finds out Antonio is sick and informs the family, unfortunately for them the rest of the family is stuck at the town with a storm hitting~” #fluff #sickfic

🥺Hide and Seek

“Bruno plays hide and seek with Camilo. Well, maybe it’s just the two of them hiding together from Pepa and la Abuela.” #fluff #hurt/comfort

🥺Petting Zoo

By @metaphoricaltigers

“Antonio, Luisa and Bruno go to a petting zoo and Bruno talks about his mental health.~” #fluff #BrunohasOCD #AutisticBruno

🥺 Daisy Chains

“On a sunny afternoon Julieta and Pepa take their one year old daughter’s (Isabela and Dolores) to the garden for a picnic along with Bruno. When Julieta and Pepa head inside for a bit, Bruno is left to look after his nieces.~” #fluff #itsjustfluff

🥺Duerme Bien

By @waitingonavision

“Listen to the six-year-old. Antonio has the only right idea. ~A sleep pile with Bruno and his niblings. This is the result.” #fluff #toothrotting #Brunospancita

🥺Healing Takes Time (you’ll get there in the end)

By @impossiblefangirl0632

“One day you’re going to look up and realize that things are starting to get better, that you’ll be okay. Today is that day.” #fluff #healing #hurt/comfort

🥺Little Gestures

By @sokkas-first-fangirl

“Mirabel noticed Bruno tended to pat them on the head (especially when he couldn’t handle a full hug) and, as he did, deja vu always hit. He must have done the same thing ten years ago.~” #fluff #toothrotting

[lierenprotectionsquad]

“I feel like people only headcanon Camilo as genderfluid because he’s a shapeshifter”

Well, I don’t know about everyone else, but do you wanna know why genderfluid people headcanon him as genderfluid? Because he’s a shapeshifter and that’s what pretty much every genderfluid person in the history of ever wants to be!

Do you know why it’s a stereotype that shapeshifters are genderfluid? Because if there is one thing most genderfluid people can agree on it is that if we could have any superpower, it would be shapeshifting.

Sure, you can educate and inform people who aren’t genderfluid and tell them that maybe they shouldn’t play into stereotypes about groups they aren’t part of, but do not tell a genderfluid person that they can’t headcanon a shapeshifter as genderfluid because of the stereotype!

[foggyfanfic]

Fixations

Summary: Once upon a time, all over the world, nobody knew how brains worked. We knew they were there, we knew if you take the brain out of a person the person stops working, but we didn't know all the ways a brain could be sick or disordered. Once upon a time, people weren't autistic, they were quirky, or eccentric, or creepy, or weird.

Or: I play around with what being mentally ill in an isolated, magic village is like, while also exploring how the Madrigals might come off to the rest of the villagers.

Adelaide

It wasn’t like she had expected school to be uniquely horrible, on the contrary she had expected school to be exactly as horrible as most things were. She had expected people to tell her she was too quiet, too serious, a little creepy. She had expected people not to get her jokes, not to care about the book she’d last read, not to sit with her and allow her to just be there without contributing to the conversation. She had expected school to be more of the same.

But it wasn’t. And she knew exactly why.

The first day of school had started out pretty much as she expected. The other children were off put by her lack of smiles, by her overly precise words, by her even tone. Somebody, she wasn’t sure who, decided that she must be a doll brought to life.

On a side note, this was how Adelaide learned that she was something called “pretty”. It was not a word she’d ever heard in her home life and at six years old she had only read nonfiction books that described things with much more precision than the other children were capable of. But she was duly informed that she was very pretty and very expressionless, and very short, and that made them think she was some sort of creepy living doll. She would later look up “pretty” in the dictionary and be a little flattered. None of the adults who had called her too serious or creepy had ever tacked on a compliment as well.

But other than being called pretty, the day started exactly the way she expected it to based off of her limited experiences. The other children did not like her, and they avoided her other than to inform her they did not like her.

The children did like the Madrigals, both of them, although Adelaide noted they were liked in different ways.

Mirabel was friendly and had something nice to say about everybody. She was happy to help however she could and was fun to sit next to in arts and crafts because she would hand you a crayon and tell you the color would look perfect next to that cute little caterpillar you’d just drawn. Mirabel didn’t tell the funniest jokes, but she laughed at other people’s jokes; she didn’t have the absolute coolest stories, but she listened avidly when others wanted to tell a story, and even remembered it well enough she could tell you to repeat it for another kid to hear; she didn’t have a magic gift, but she did spend the snack breaks showing everybody how to make friendship bracelets. Some people were jerks about the no-gift thing, but they were quickly shut up when Mirabel said her Má told her to only share the cookies she’d brought for lunch with nice kids.

Then there was Camilo. Camilo did tell the funniest jokes, he did tell the coolest stories, and he did have a magic gift. 

The other kids sat next to Mirabel when they wanted to talk about their favorite animals, but they sat next to Camilo when they wanted to be amazed. They would ask Mirabel about the simple, crooked, butterfly she had sewn onto her school bag, they would ask Camilo to shapeshift into the teacher and make fart noises. People wanted to play tag with Mirabel, people wanted to watch Camilo put on a show.

Being six years old, Adelaide wondered which was better, whether Camilo or Mirabel was more popular. Now at fourteen she understood that Camilo was more popular, but Mirabel had more friends.

“Hey, uh Adelaide,” Camilo called out and she felt her cheeks warm up automatically. She knew she was hardly the only girl at school to have a crush on Camilo, which honestly just made the way her heart pitter pattered in her chest when he said her name all that more annoying.

She was different in almost every other way, didn't fit quite right with any of the other girls, even the ones who liked her and called her a friend. But this! This stupid, embarrassing crush! This was the one thing she shared in common with other girls. What? Because he had probably saved her from a lifetime of bullying? Ridiculous.

Adelaide turned to look at him and he jogged up to her with a friendly grin. He looked directly at her, not through or past her like some people did, but his smile was the same smile he gave his favorite teachers. It was not the smile he greeted Mirabel, or his two actual friends with. She wondered if underneath it all he was actually like her, but able to hide it because he knew how to act.

Maybe that was why, on the first day of school, when the other kids asked him to act out the story the teacher had read right before lunch he had asked Adelaide to narrate for him. Maybe that was why he kept asking Adelaide to narrate for him. Maybe he knew exactly how much he had helped her, how much it affected the way people saw her, by making her his designated narrator.

“La Señora Florez asked me to do story time for the seven year olds, I need a narrator. You free? I’d let La Señora Florez do it but between you and me, her pacing is always off.”

Or maybe he simply thought she was a good narrator.

“I am,” she said, with a tiny nod.

“Great,” he almost yelled, clapping his hands together once, “let’s go.”

He led her back to the school, at their age they only attended school in the mornings and were sent out in the afternoons to get their work done or so they could do chores for their parents. Adelaide had been half way to the library, but this was better.

“How is your day going,” Adelaide asked, because it was one of the five questions she knew to ask in social situations.

“Pretty good,” he said, “how about you?”

She hesitated, this part was tricky, she was apparently only supposed to say pleasant things but to be honest her day had been pretty boring. Was she supposed to lie? She must have hesitated too long because Camilo turned his head to look at her.

“I… am glad you asked me to do this, it’s always fun.”

Camilo’s face did something that Adelaide did not understand, his eyebrows twitched through a few expressions, his lips pursed, then almost frowned; it was not the face people made when she did the people thing correctly. But then his usual grin came back, he more than anyone else, more than even Mirabel made an effort not to make her feel as awkward as she was. Or maybe Mirabel was making an effort but this was another way that Camilo’s talents as an actor shined through. Mirabel herself could be a bit awkward at times, Josephine said it just made her more likable though, “She’s the relatable sort of awkward” she had explained. Adelaide idly decided that yes, Mirabel probably did try to make Adelaide feel not-awkward just as much or maybe even more than Camilo did, but Camilo was just better at it.

“Were you not having a fun day before?” Camilo eventually asked, in a prompting sort of voice, making her realize she was probably supposed to say more.

She didn’t let herself hesitate too long this time, if she kept pausing to think her answers through people usually assumed that meant something was wrong, instead she gave a shrug just big enough to be noticed and told him, “I thought the history lesson was boring. I always think the history lesson is boring… I think I might not like history lessons.”

Camilo laughed, and she wasn’t sure if he was laughing because what she said was funny, or because he thought she was funny. Despite a love of mischief, he was generally well meaning, so she decided to believe it was the first one.

“Sí, me too,” Camilo said, then looked around at the other passerby, he must have been checking to see if anyone was listening because he dropped his voice before continuing, “don’t tell the other guys I said this but I just don’t give a shit about wars. At all. I want to learn more about inventors and stuff.”

“I can tell you everything you could ever want to know about how telescopes were invented and developed throughout history,” she blurted.

He grinned, and it may have been wishful thinking on her part, but it seemed a lot closer to the smiles he gave his friends than the smiles he gave everybody else. He started to say something, but then somebody called his name. A boy from Juan’s class, the class above them. Camilo turned and greeted him with a shout and brief clasping of their hands. He didn’t pause, but instead twisted as he walked to explain why he couldn’t stop and tell the other boy he’d “catch you later”.

When he turned back around he said, “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” she all but whispered, “I know it’s what you do.”

“What do you mean?”

“You act like you’re hosting a party, even when you’re just walking through town. It’s what people expect.”

“Is that so wrong?” He frowned at her, eyes narrowing. It was the face people made when she said something that bordered on rude but wasn’t completely offensive.

She shook her head, “I do what people expect too. It’s easier.”

He didn’t respond, disrupting the natural rhythm of the conversation, she looked at him but couldn’t read him. Had she said something wrong? Something too serious? Too familiar?

They were almost back at the school.

“What do people expect from you?” Camilo asked.

“They expect me to ask ‘how is your day’ and answer with something positive when I am asked the same, even if my day was boring,” Adelaide said, she stopped walking and turned so she could stare up at him when he stopped too, “they expect you to do stuff like that, only they expect you to be perfect at it and exciting about it. It is admirable that you succeed.”

Maybe the honest compliment would fix whatever she was doing wrong.

He opened his mouth to say something, then didn’t say anything. He just stared at her. Some day he would tell her how startling it always was that she seemed to see through him so easily.

She glanced at the school, then looked back at him and took a chance, “Camilo? How was your day?”

He laughed a little breathlessly, then said, “Honestly, I didn’t get a chance to grab breakfast so I’m really hungry.”

She nodded once, then took off her school bag and dug around in it until she found her lunch sack. Without a word she offered it to him.

“Aw geez, I can’t take your food,” Camilo said, shaking his head.

“When story time is over I can quietly slip away and get myself more food. You will probably be expected to do something else for somebody.” She took a half step towards him so her lunch bag was now pressed against his stomach.

He nodded a little sideways, then regarded her with his lip between his teeth before asking in a quiet voice, “You sure?”

She nodded.

“Absolutely positive?”

Another nod and she swung the bag so it gently whacked his stomach.

“Gracias,” he suddenly burst, diving forward and briefly hugging her, “you’re a lifesaver! You have no idea!”

Her face burned and it felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest, but she just nodded and relinquished her bag to him. As they finished the journey back to the school he scarfed down all of the food with impressive speed. Adelaide glanced at him then tapped the corner of her mouth. He thanked her, wiped the errant sauce into his mouth, then thanked her again. He led her to the classroom the seven year olds usually shared with the six year olds, except the six year olds were visible out the window, learning about plants in the school’s garden. 

Adelaide envied them a little, the lessons on how to grow food had been her favorite once upon a time, but had morphed into lessons on food storage and such as she grew older. Much less fun.

The younger children perked up when they saw Camilo and Adelaide waiting by the door, he grinned at the few who stared, then winked and tapped a finger to his lips before pointing at Señora Florez. Most of the children did their best to pay attention, despite their clear mounting excitement.

“-and I think most of you have guessed what we’re doing next,” Señora Florez eventually said, when she was done explaining the different accent marks, “everybody, write the accent marks on your slate and hold it up for me to see when you’ve done so. …Bien! Muy bien! Now, Señorita Adelaide, and Señor Camilo are going to tell you a story, and I want you to try to keep track of how many times you hear each accent mark.”

Señora Florez handed her a book, which Adelaide immediately showed to Camilo. He flipped through the illustrations and briefly turned into each of the characters that had a speaking role. Then handed the book back to her. He fetched her a stool to sit on, front and center of the classroom, and she could feel him hovering at the ready right behind her.

The minute she started reading he warped himself into the shape of the book’s main character, he buzzed around her as she read, bringing the character’s actions to life as she described them. Once in a while she had to pause so he had time to fully act out this page or that. When they came to a bit of dialogue, she held the book up for him and he read the dialogue himself. He still wasn’t great at changing his voice when shape shifting, so he just did voices for the characters the same way their non-magical teachers did during story time. Then when he was done with the dialogue she kept reading on.

As she read, she did her best to emphasize the accent marks, to make it easier for the kids to catch them. Camilo did the same, but was hampered by the funny voices he was doing.

When the story was done the children clapped for Camilo as he bowed left and right with many a flourish. He stepped aside and gestured grandly at her, inspiring another wave of applause, she stood and gave a slight curtsy. Camilo laughed a little, just a breathless little laugh.

Some day he would ask her “The thing with your face, it’s not on purpose, is it?”

And she would say, “No, it is not. I don’t know why I don’t know how to have facial expressions, I know it comes naturally to everyone else, I know I’m supposed to know, instinctually, when to smile or frown. I know I'm supposed to know what each facial expression means. But I don’t and I don’t know why.”

It would become immediately obvious to her that he hadn’t meant to start a serious conversation, because he would look startled, so incredibly startled that even she of all people could read it in his eyes. On that day, many years into their future, she would be suddenly convinced that she was too awkward, too serious, too not quite right, to ever be loved by somebody like Camilo. For a split second she would wonder how she ever thought that this fairy tale would have a happy ending. She would draw in a shaky breath, to apologize for being everything that she was, but never get the chance to do so.

Because Camilo would hug her and tell her she didn’t need to know when to smile or frown, that her monotone delivery made her jokes funnier anyways, and that he just wanted to know if it was ok that he thought it was cute. When prompted, he would shrug and admit he’d always thought watching her do normal stuff with such a serious expression was cute. He’d just wanted to make sure he was laughing with her, not at her, so to speak.

And that would be the day Adelaide truly trusted Camilo, it would be the day her fixation with Camilo, her admiration for him, would finally become love.

But for now, she spent the rest of the day wondering what that little laugh meant. Was she not supposed to curtsy? She always curtsied when she read for him. Or did she do it wrong? Maybe she had been holding the book in a weird way when she did it. Or maybe it wasn’t a laugh at all, maybe it had simply been an exhale that had stuttered on the way out. Maybe the world was kinder than she thought, maybe the world wasn’t completely horrible, and it had been the sort of laugh that Josephine had said people do when they are simply happy or comfortable or fond of whoever they are looking at.

Lying in bed, almost scowling over the fact that this single laugh was keeping her awake, she would acknowledge that the laugh might not have anything to do with her at all and instead it could have been born of Camilo remembering a funny joke.

But despite admitting that, she would stay up all night, thinking about Camilo and how naturally he moved through life, wondering if he secretly thought she was weird, or too serious; or worse, if he thought nothing of her at all. She would stay up all night haunted by all possible versions of Camilo, versions that were kind, versions that were cruel, and versions that were simply apathetic. Then in the morning when she was struggling to stay awake at her desk, the version of Camilo that was real would plop some coffee down in front of her, alongside her empty lunch bag.

“Thanks for the save yesterday,” he said, not bothering to be quiet, not caring that all eyes were on him, that the whole class listened to his every word in hopes it would be said to them next, “you were right, I didn’t get another chance to eat until dinner.”

“De nada,” she said, for once happy her face didn’t automatically respond to her emotions like a normal person’s. With the entire class paying attention to them, she was glad that her blush was hidden, that her breathless joy was invisible to all but Josephine. Camilo nodded at her one more time then his eyes went past her, to Josephine, hopefully he couldn't tell that she was grinning slyly at Adelaide.

“Hey Jo! Real quick, before Mirabel gets here, what’s a good sewing thing to get for her birthday?”

“I’ll see if I can find out what she’s working on,” Josephine said, “embroidery thread’s always a safe bet for her.”

“What about your birthday?” Adelaide interjected, “It’s next, isn’t it? What do you want?”

It seemed the entire class leaned in, and Camilo’s face did something strange, his eyes flicking around to everyone around them. Then he put on that big showy grin of his, the one that wasn’t genuine.

“What I want is to just this one give Mirabel a better gift than she gets me,” Camilo laughed the question away, with a shake of his head and a shrug, “she always knocks it out of the park, leaves me looking like a total jerk in comparison.”

A few people rushed to contradict him, tell him how nice he was. Adelaide cocked her head and considered what she knew about him.

“A book about inventors?” She asked it quietly, taking advantage of her naturally low voice to turn the conversation private in the middle of the crowd. A look of surprise flickered across Camilo’s face, he opened his mouth then froze. He glanced around. 

The problem with always being the center of attention was that people were always paying attention to you.

So it wasn’t subtle at all when he leaned in and told her as quietly as he could, “Yeah, or a working model I could fiddle with.”

She nodded, mind already racing with ideas.

Then he stood up with a grin, “Just don’t tell Mirabel I said that, the last thing she needs is help beating me.”

“Beating you at what?” Mirabel asked, walking through the door with Katrina.

“Did you know you and Camilo are competing over who can get the other a better birthday gift?” Josephine said.

“We are not,” Mirabel rolled her eyes, then smirked at Camilo, “that would imply Camilo has a chance at winning.”

A few people oohed while others laughed.

“Oh ho! Thems some fighting words,” Camilo crowed, “just you wait Mirabel, I’ll kick some gift giving ass this year, I’m going to give you something so great it’ll make you cry.”

“Oh really?”

“Sí! Really,” Camilo gestured grandly at Josephine, “because this year I have a secret weapon.”

“I don’t think ‘buy her string’ is the winning advice you think it is,” Adelaide pointed out, meaning to be genuinely helpful, but people laughed as if it was a joke.

Some day Adelaide would admit to Camilo that she didn’t learn how to tell jokes until she was seventeen, and didn’t master it until she was twenty-one, any time she was funny before that was by accident. He would admit to her that he’d always been a little jealous of her mastery of the deadpan delivery, and the things she said became even funnier now that he knew she meant them.

In the here and now, Camilo gasped and theatrically put a hand to his chest, “Oh! The betrayal! I thought you were on my side.”

“I am, and I am also correct,” Adelaide said with a shrug.

“She is sorta correct,” Mirabel said, giving Josephine an apologetic smile, “I love that people keep giving me embroidery floss but if you’re going for some sort of wow factor…”

“Alright, fair enough,” Camilo shrugged it off as easily as he shrugged off most things, then he grinned at Adelaide, “coming in for the save again, I guess.”

“I try,” she all but whispered.

“Well cut it out, I can’t go buying you coffee every day,” Camilo’s words were harsh but his tone and smile were friendly, she was pretty sure he was joking.

“I also accept payment in candle lit dinners,” is what Adelaide would have said if she was a few years older and way bolder. “I also accept payment in chocolate,” is what she would have said if she thought of it in time. “We’ll call this one a freebie” is what she actually said, which wasn’t bad as far as replies went, but she only thought of it so quickly because it was a line from the book she had read for him the day before.

He smiled then, and it was a smile that Adelaide didn’t recognize. A smile that would someday become familiar to her, that she would someday know to be the way he smiled when he was in on an inside joke. It was not a complicated smile, or one that denoted anything groundbreaking.

Which just made it all the more frustrating to her that her next sleepless night was spent fixating on it.

A/N: I know I've mentioned that I created Adelaide to be the reason Camilo ends up with very autistic kids, but when I actually started rotating her in my head I liked the idea of her being very calm and understated in contrast of his showy personality, and that became her being somebody that struggles to mask. I think we've all been in that place where we know we're not wearing the right facial expression for the situation, and I assume a lot of people have found themselves over thinking what their face is doing. That is Adelaide, every second of every day. She's observant and intelligent, but god damn it, was she supposed to laugh at that or look sympathetic? Therefore she spends her youth absolutely fascinated by Camilo's ability to mask (because even if you don't see him as neurodivergent I still subscribe to the theory that he has identity issues he's hiding from everybody). Combine that with the fact that he almost single-handedly saved her from a life time of being the creepy kid when he decided she would be his designated narrator and she ends up with a crush that really pisses her off. (Something else I assume everybody else experiences.)

[anomenofdarkness]

Bisexuality at it's finest

[magic-and-maybess]

Gonna do my Encanto hcs because I can and feel like it.

Disclaimer: I am white, and I'm trying my very best not to take away from the culture of the movie with these. I don't have these hcs because I want representation, I just think I see these traits in these characters and this is all for fun blah blah blah you know the drill.

Isabela:

- I'm thinking lesbian. I feel like most people have explained this one to death but the rundown is basically she just Gives Those Vibes + comphet

- autistic!!! What Else Can I Do tells the story of a girl learning to unmask so clearly. Also Isabela's whole perfect persona gives big masking vibes. Idk I just think it's neat.

- gifted kid burnout /hj

Dolores:

- autistic once again!! Her sensory overload is a MOOD and there's a lot of fun stuff to play with there. Told a guy "you talk so loud" as a compliment.

Mirabel:

- adhd and autism. She very much has a "thinking out loud" personality. Special interest in sewing!! Always moving, sensory seeking.

- I don't have a specific sexuality hc for her but I feel like she's mspec.

Pepa:

- autistic! She strokes her braid to calm down/as a stim, emotional dystrguation, and also I just think Pepa and Dolores both being autistic is neat. Also people not understanding how to handle her emotions.

- as a friend pointed out, there's a lot of overlap between ASD and BPD, and I think Pepa slides right into that sweet spot.

Camilo:

- gay, but specifically the brand of gay that only a theatre boy can be.

- questioning his gender hardcore, but not quite there yet. Not totally cis tho.

- Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. No further comment.