Sugarlily

Bakugou: No not really

"The sky is overcast, and I'm sorry."

Dick and Stephanie manage to bully everyone—even Bruce!—into the living room to watch a movie (“Why not the theater?” “This is more homey!” “This is more annoying.”). They squabble for a bit until Alfred subtly brings up the fact that Disney had released a new movie recently.

Encanto.

Alfred leaves, off to run errands (and take a break from the chaos). Perhaps he will be able to spend a few hours away without the Manor getting burned down, now that everyone is occupied.

They start the movie, full of childish glee and childish petulance.

And then the singing starts.

Oh, the first song is alright—jazzy introductions, brief glimpses of family dynamics, beautiful colors and choreography. But then the other songs start picking them off, one by one.

Tim is the first to go. Waiting on a Miracle has him wiping away silent tears while Dick gives him a subtle side hug and no one makes eye contact.

Then Surface Pressure plays. While everyone is blinking back the burning in their eyes, Dick breaks down sobbing and almost has a full-on panic attack. Jason plops down next to him and lets his big brother hide his face in his shoulder, glaring at anyone that dares look away from the screen.

We Don’t Talk About Bruno doesn’t bring any tears (thank goodness), but it does have everyone giving Jason side-eyes. He just grins and wiggles his eyebrows, green eyes glowing slightly. The crying comes during the conversation between Mirabel and Bruno, and when they see the dinner plate carefully drawn on the table. Surprisingly, it’s Tim that reaches over and grabs Jason’s arm in comfort.

By now, the remaining four (Bruce, Cass, Steph, and Damian) are increasingly alarmed. Who’s going down next?

It’s Damian. Everyone has already clocked the similarities between the Isabela/Mirabel and TIm/Damian dynamics. During What Else Can I Do, Damian stares at the screen with wide eyes. He’s already hiding behind Dick’s legs, where he’s been since Dick broke down during Louisa’s song. It’s easy to press his face into them to hide his quiet sobs. Good thing his entire family is made up of detectives.

The movie is more than halfway over. They start to relax.

This is a mistake.

Mirabel listens to Abuela as Dos Oruguitas plays in the background.

Everyone loses it.

Bruce stares straight ahead, not acknowledging the steady waterfalls making their way down his face. All his children clump together around him, wriggling into his sides, onto his lap, even curled on the couch behind his head (hi, Cass). Everyone is trying to choke back sobs because this hits way too close.

Especially the exchange between Mirabel and Abuela.

It really doesn’t help that all of them understand Spanish.

They spend the rest of the movie in low-level shock. Just silently watching the characters heal and rebuild and weave the last few threads of the plot together. They still haven’t recovered by the time the title flashes across the screen.

Alfred returns from his grocery run to find all of them tangled together on the couch, staring with dead eyes and wet cheeks at the screen, which is rolling through the last of the credits. As one, they all turn to him, eyes wide and betrayed, as if accusing him for leaving them all during this time of terror and trauma.