#Coco spoilers

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Well, the Coco fic tied on the poll! Since that one's fully finished, I'm gonna go ahead and post it first. (I've also started working on wrapping up that Psychonauts fic that tied!)

So uhhh... I wrote this Coco fic years ago and completely forgot about it until more recently. But for reference, it takes place between Neither Can You and A Blessing of a Curse, and has references to a few other of my fics thrown around here. If you're not familiar with my fics, though, I guess just know that Héctor and Imelda are working through some trauma due to some of Ernesto's shenanigans, to put it lightly.

So uhhh... enjoy?

---~~~---

Héctor dusted off his vest with his good hand, looking at himself in the mirror anxiously. "Do I... look okay?"

"Sí, papá, you look fine," Coco answered, grinning at him.

"Yeah, but... do I really look okay?" He turned to the side to view himself from that angle before looking down at his daughter.

"Papá, that's the outfit you wear the most."

"But does it look okay?"

"You're going for a walk."

"I know, but—"

Coco only laughed, shaking her head, and Héctor couldn't help smiling at her—it was hard to be upset when she wasn't.

"Well... if you say so, mija." His voice caught, and he cleared his throat—it wasn't any emotion, but just the fact that his cervical vertebrae were still recovering from the damage done to them. It hurt less now, and he could talk more, but they got terribly itchy at times. "Ay..."

"Save your talking for mamá." Gently she urged him away from his bedroom mirror and to the door. "Go have fun."

"You... could join us, if you wanted," Héctor said, looking back at her.

She smiled. "No, this is just for you and her. Go on, papá."

Smiling back at her, Héctor finally turned back to the hallway before him and headed down the stairs. Though his leg still bothered him, it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been, so he hoped he would be good for a walk. As he neared the bottom of the stairs, he saw Imelda waiting by the door and talking with her brothers. She looked up as he approached, and his heart leaped.

"I take it you're ready, then?" Imelda asked, and Héctor nodded eagerly, wincing when the action irritated his throat. But she only smiled, opening the door. "Let's go."

The late afternoon sun cast a warm orange glow over the streets of the Land of the Dead, and Pepita lay on her back in the yard, trying to soak in the last of the rays that touched their property. Hearing the approach of her familia, she rolled over and raised her head, alert.

Héctor tensed; every time he'd gone out somewhere since... everything happened, either Pepita or Dante (or both) had accompanied him, ready to assist him whenever possible. Often they ran into the press, and the alebrijes' assistance was needed, but the last few times there had been no incident. Even so, the thought of needing the accompaniment of an alebrije made him slightly less eager about tonight. "Is she...?"

Sighing, Imelda strode up to Pepita and scratched behind her horn reassuringly. "No, no, Pepita, you stay here. We'll be fine on our own."

The big cat's gaze flicked over to Héctor, lingering on him, before she turned back to Imelda with a questioning meow.

"It will be fine," Imelda went on, scratching the side of her alebrije's jaw.

"Are... are you sure?" Héctor asked, limping up to her. "Maybe we should wait a bit longer—"

"Héctor, we can't keep living like this." Imelda's voice was harsh, and he winced back, but she softened immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We can't keep being afraid. The press is leaving us alone now, and all of his men are behind bars. Nothing will hurt us."

Frowning, Héctor stared down at his prosthetic hand, flexing it. After a moment he looked up, a teasing smile tugging at his mouth. "Not even rogue alebrijes?"

Pepita snorted, nearly sending Héctor's hat flying, and Imelda rolled her eyes. "That would happen, wouldn't it?" she said, then chuckled. "Yes, Héctor, if some rogue alebrije charges us again, we can take care of it, or I can call Pepita." She rubbed the cat's nose before stepping back, her demeanor becoming more serious again. "But... I want us to relax tonight, and not worry about anything like that."

Héctor gazed into her eyes, finding some of the worry in his bones easing. "I... think I can manage that."

"Good." With that, she marched toward the gates of their property, and Héctor followed.

It felt a little strange to be stepping outside the hacienda without an actual destination in mind—usually he would step out to help with shopping (really just to get out of the house), to go to the park, or to visit his Shantytown family. It didn't take long, however, for Héctor to merely roll with it, enjoying the fresh air and the warmth of the afternoon sun on his back.

And, of course, the fact that he was actually spending some time alone with his wife.

He found himself turning to her, his heart lifting as he considered the fact that she had asked him to do this. She wanted to be with him. Yes, they'd been building up their relationship again over the past few months, but after so many years of loneliness, it was still a marvel to him.

"It's nice to just get out of the house for a while, isn't it?" Imelda asked, catching him off guard.

"Oh—! Yes." Héctor nodded quickly, adjusting his scarf. "It's warm tonight. And not raining."

Imelda laughed quietly; it had indeed been raining a lot that week, which hadn't made deliveries and grocery runs all that pleasant. "Yes, it seems we've finally gotten a break from that." She grew quiet for a moment. "And... everything else."

"Gracias a Dios," Héctor breathed with a relieved grin. "Let's not even talk about it."

She didn't look back at him, but slowly nodded.

Goodness, it would be nice to think about something else for a while. They never turned on any news stations on the radio or television, since there was always a risk of stuff about that coming up. Even then, some of their familia had been talking when they'd thought he was out of earshot. Words like therapy and mental health had been tossed around a few times, but Héctor would still very much like to avoid seeing doctors as much as possible, whether they be doctors for bones, teeth, or mind. Not to mention, seeing that kind of doctor would require going over everything again—telling it to someone else, reliving it... no, gracias.

Imelda was right—he couldn't keep living in fear and letting everything that happened during that time control the rest of his life. Things had to get back to normal eventually... and this was a great start.

"Miguel is quite the artist," Imelda remarked, drawing him out of his thoughts again.

Héctor brightened—though Miguel hadn't been able to send them any letters yet, since Dante was still recovering, they'd gone back over previous letters he'd sent, admiring the drawings on some of them. In one, he'd drawn Héctor and Imelda from memory, and managed to capture their likenesses quite well. "You think he's started writing that book yet?"

"I don't think so. He said it was for Socorro, and she certainly isn't old enough to understand it yet."

Shrugging, Héctor looked up at the sky, which was beginning to turn from orange to reddish-purple. Though still bright enough to see, the nearby streetlamps flickered on. "No, but creating something for someone takes time." His gaze turned to her with a sly grin. "I certainly didn't wait until we were, eh, what do they call it now... official before I started writing songs for you."

Imelda blinked in surprise. "That's right..." And then she turned to him with a wry smile of her own. "I still remember when you first tried to serenade me."

Immediately Héctor balked, stopping in his tracks and wincing. "Eeeehhhhh. Okay, I never say this, but please don't remember that."

To his utter mortification, she went on, taking a step closer: "You were shaking in your shoes—"

"Imelda—"

"Your face was as white as a sheet—"

"Por favor—"

"And I seem to recall..."

"Ay, no!"

"...your voice cracked."

"Uuuuuuughhhh..." Héctor buckled, covering his face with his hat and mumbling into it: "Honestly, I would have been happy if you'd forgotten that one."

But Imelda tugged the hat back, giving him a fond smile. "It was charming."

Embarrassed as he was, he couldn't be upset at that look, and raised himself back to his full height. "Charming as a deaf burro," he said, adjusting his hat.

She stepped back, raising a brow bone. "Are you saying I have bad taste?"

"¿Qué? No!" Héctor flinched back. "N-no, mi amor, I was just..."

Imelda had looked like she may have been half-joking at first, but her brow furrowed and her eyes lowered, her shoulders sinking as though there was suddenly a weight laid upon them. "...It wasn't you who'd used that phrase originally."

"What are you..."

Héctor froze.

Before him, he saw the vision of a then-taller boy staring down at him in disappointment and disbelief.

What was that?! You sounded like a deaf burro out there.

He'd believed him at the time—near everything he said—and still couldn't recall that moment without wincing.

Though he wasn't looking anymore, the voice went on, in words he'd never actually heard it say: You're not good enough for her, hermanito. You're not good enough for any of them. Why would you even try to go back to her? It's not like your music can win her back now.

He gasped as a jolt of phantom pain shot through his missing hand, and grasped his wrist.

She's just toying with you. After all, you abandoned her before... You're pretty good at that, by the way. Why would she want you again?

"C-cállate," he stammered through grit teeth. "I-I never did that, I never—"

"Héctor?"

With a start, Héctor stumbled backwards, nearly falling, and found himself still on the sidewalk with Imelda staring at him in bewilderment and concern. "Are you all right?"

He mentally kicked himself; what was he doing, letting himself get hung up on this again? They were supposed to be enjoying themselves, and here he was getting upset about a person who wasn't even around anymore. Shaking himself bodily, he straightened again and tugged at his suspenders. "Sí, I'm fine. Just got a bit lost in my thoughts, heh."

Imelda didn't look entirely convinced, and it took a great deal of willpower not to wither under her gaze, as he'd done before Dia de Muertos. "I-I am fine," he insisted, holding out his hands. "Really! I was just—"

"Héctor," she said, holding up a hand herself, and he lowered his, feeling a tension pulling beneath his ribs as he waited for her to speak. "I... need to talk to you about something."

Her tone was serious, and clearly unhappy, and the tension spread from Héctor's chest to the rest of his body.

There it was—she hadn't invited him out for a walk just for the sake of being with him. She needed to talk with him.

Did you think she would actually enjoy your company, hermano? Did you think she actually wanted to keep you around? She's just being polite, and she's going to turn you away.

Héctor looked up into Imelda's eyes, and could see it—hesitation, anxiety... whatever she was going to tell him couldn't be anything good. His left hand gripped his right wrist, and his non-existent stomach felt as though it were sinking through the stones beneath his feet.

She opened her mouth to say something... and then her eyes went wide, and within seconds she threw herself forward, grabbing Héctor by his bad wrist and yanking him away. He let out a yelp, but only had a brief moment to wonder what she was doing when he heard the crack of something heavy striking pavement. Looking back, he could see a decent-sized rock that had hit the pavement a short distance past where he'd been standing.

It took a few more seconds before he realized that had Imelda not pulled him away, the rock would have struck him in the skull.

Imelda seemed to realize it the same time as he did, and her boot was off and held up threateningly. "Where are you?!" she demanded, her face contorted in rage, while Héctor struggled to recover from the shock of what had just happened.

"Should have left him where he was standing, vieja."

The voice was rough, unfamiliar, and slightly muffled. The evening was growing darker, now, but lurking behind one of the streetlamps, just behind where he'd been standing, was a figure wearing a large jacket and a face mask that obscured his markings.

The shocked numbness that had filled Héctor spiked into a full-blown terror as he took a step back. No, no, it couldn't be, they'd gotten all of his men, hadn't they? Though when he looked at the stranger, he didn't seem to fit the appearance of the rest of Ernesto's bodyguards—they were all broad-shouldered and tall, and this man had a slighter frame. Could he be another person Ernesto had a connection with?

Only a second later, however, he could no longer see the man, for Imelda had positioned herself directly between them. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"I was a fan of the music," the man shot back.

Héctor's mind reeled. "What?"

"Not your music, you fraud. El Señor de la Cruz's."

Dios, it was another one of them. He'd had encounters with them in the past, and they were often angry, but they'd never...

"My husband is no fraud." Imelda's voice was low, and Héctor could feel the anger radiating off of her. "That man betrayed us, he stole Héctor's songs and—"

"Yeah, 'cuz what was he gonna do with them? Sing 'em at quinceañeras? De la Cruz gave the songs to the world—he made the world a better place with that music, and you—!" For a moment it seemed like he was too angry to speak.

"Are you serious?!" Imelda cried, but Héctor's heart sank as he recalled how the night he'd left, he had packed up his songs, intending to take them home, planning only to sing in Santa Cecilia...

Alarmingly, the man took a step forward. "Are you? You ruined him, and when that wasn't enough, you got him arrested?!"

Shaking his guilt off for the moment, Héctor stepped out from behind Imelda to glare at his attacker. "He kidnapped my granddaughter!"

"Oh, sure he did! Sure that wasn't some lie you cabrónes made up to smear his name further—"

"What do you think happened to Héctor's hand?!"

"Pretty desperate move for attention," the attacker snarled before he began walking purposefully toward them, his voice growing dangerously low. "And I can give you all the attention you like."

"Get back."

"I won't." He was closer now, drawing a weapon from his side—a bat. "I'm sick of this."

Frantically Héctor took a moment to survey the area around them—it was very still, and no one else was around. He hadn't been paying attention to where they were going earlier, but he realized with alarm that Imelda must have deliberately led him to a place that wasn't busy, where they wouldn't be bothered, so she could talk with him alone... This timing couldn't have been worse—

Without warning the man charged, and Héctor reached for Imelda's hand so he could grab it and run.

His hand came short, for Imelda ran forward, meeting the man with a strike of her boot. Though it missed, the man stumbled backward, surprised. "Out of my way, vieja!"

"No," she said. "If you want him, you have to get through me first."

"Fine. You're as culpable as he is!" With that, he charged at Imelda, swinging the bat, only for her to jump back and strike with her boot again, this time hitting his hand, and he drew back with a yell.

"I-Imelda, what are you doing?!" Héctor whispered hurriedly. "We should get out of here!"

Without looking away, she hissed back to him: "I'm not letting any of this affect us any more."

Her words didn't make much sense, and he didn't have time to sort through it now. The man had already recovered from the strike, and swung his bat at her again, the weapon coming within an inch of her nasal cavity, and even Imelda seemed alarmed.

She couldn't do this on her own.

While the man was distracted by Imelda, Héctor backed away, and edged himself around her as quietly as he could, fighting to keep his creaking, trembling bones still. Fortunately he had a lot of practice sneaking around, and managed to get to the side and slightly behind their attacker. Imelda seemed to notice what he was doing too, and made several quick swings to keep the man focused on her.

Drawing in a breath to prepare himself, Héctor lunged forward, tackling the man to the ground. Not much of a fighter, he struggled to keep the man pinned, holding down one of his arms with his good hand—there wasn't enough strength in his prosthetic to do much there. The whole situation brought back memories of a very different night, and for a moment he swore he could see stark white bone. The man fought and snarled beneath him, but only for a moment, for Imelda finally struck him directly in the skull with her boot, knocking him senseless.

Héctor didn't immediately relax, even when Imelda retrieved the weapon before it could be used again. He was still shaking a great deal, and kept holding the body down, not sure what else to do with himself even as Imelda gave a shrill whistle, and Pepita roared in the distance.

—-

They gave the report outside the station—Imelda had insisted—and Héctor remembered little of it. He couldn't seem to differentiate between when they were there and when they left, because the next thing he knew Imelda was gently nudging his shoulder, and he blinked to find that Pepita had brought them to the rooftop of their own house.

"Héctor, it's done," Imelda said gently. "You're okay."

He forced a laugh, trying to smile in spite of the tightness in his chest and the fact that he hadn't stopped shaking. "What makes you think I'm not?"

She didn't answer, but her worried, exhausted expression made it clear the shoddy attempt at a joke hadn't landed. Wordlessly she slipped off of Pepita and helped him down, and they stood in the soft glow of the enormous cat's luminescent fur. Imelda stared down at it, running one hand over the yellow markings while her other hand rested on Héctor's shoulder.

"You're right," she said at last.

"About...?"

"You're not okay." Her hand squeezed his shoulder as she finally looked into his eyes.

Héctor's non-existent stomach was slowly twisting itself into knots. "I... I-Imelda—"

"We are not okay," she said firmly, her gaze falling again. "Neither of us."

"¿Qué?" he gasped, stooping down to meet her gaze. "I-Imelda, no, y-you were amazing! I don't know what I would have done—"

"No, Héctor." She took a step back, letting go of him. "I... I couldn't have handled that on my own. Without you, that man could have..."

They stood in the stillness, the only other sound being the soft breathing of the cat beside them. Pepita let out a quiet purr, and Imelda finally went on:

"I couldn't have done anything without my family. After you were gone, I tried to work alone, but..." She shook her head, and Héctor's heart ached. Hesitantly he wrapped his good arm around her shoulder, and her hand raised up to rest upon his. "My family—my brothers and Coco—helped me then." And she looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "And I need you now."

That caught him off guard, and he nearly stumbled back. "You... do?" he stammered. "But I—I thought that... you seemed upset before—"

"No." She turned around, holding his good hand in both of hers. "Héctor, what I wanted to talk to you about..."

Though Héctor steeled himself, he could feel himself wilting anyway. "¿Sí?"

"I know you don't want to hear this, but... we... need help. Both of us. And... we need it together." Imelda's hands gently squeezed his until he looked into her eyes. "I'm going to sign us up for therapy."

Héctor winced. "Imelda... you don't... I-I don't think we—"

"You went blank for nearly an hour after what happened tonight, and I don't think it was just from the attack."

Slowly, haltingly he let out the air from where his lungs once were. She was right—he knew she was, but...

"You.... you know... the things he said," Héctor stammered. "They... they were..."

"You can't honestly believe anything he said!" Imelda cried, horrified.

"They weren't... wrong," he finally admitted. "If... if he hadn't taken my music, I would have just... sang at local things in Santa Cecilia. My music wouldn't have reached—"

"Of course not!" She took him by the shoulders, looking him in the eyes. "But you would have been alive, Héctor!"

He hung his head, ashamed. "I-I know. But... some things... worked out for the better, didn't they?"

"This is what I'm talking about. Listen to yourself... you can't keep thinking like this." Gently she lifted his chin so he was looking at her again. "We need to talk to someone, Héctor. I'll be with you."

"Y... you're right. Lo siento, mi amor." Finally he straightened himself, even though he still felt like slumping. "I'll—we'll do it."

Imelda drew her arms around him, and he did the same. "Yes, mi amor. We'll get through this... however long it takes."

[babycharmander]

One part I found hilarious in Coco was when Imelda hits Ernesto with her shoe and says "That's for murdering the love of my life!" and he goes "Who the?"

He did find her vaguely familiar at first, but he didn't actually realize who she was until Hector jumped out.

I suppose it does make sense that he didn't recognize her at first. They probably haven't seen each other since he and Hector left Santa Cecilia over ninety years ago. And even if he did return to Santa Cecilia at some point, well, he would've made every attempt to avoid her. Besides, it's still been over seventy years since his death, people look different as skeletons, and they would have had no reason to see each other once they were both dead.

But then she says "That's for murdering the love of my life!" and he still has no idea who she is.

Like. Ernesto. How many people have you murdered that your first reaction to being told "That's for murdering the love of my life! is not something like "$#%* oh no how did Imelda find out quick think of a convincing lie" instead of "Who the?"

Ahahah yeah that's for sure one of the best scenes in the movie.

I think what might've happened was that cuz she just immediately struck him in the head with a shoe, his head was literally spinning so he might not've immediately registered what she said.

Also I definitely think Ernesto avoided going back to Santa Cecilia basically until his death, when his body was buried. It would've been too great a risk.

[pencopanko]

bringing back an oldie but goldie

Look, it’s been a while okay can anyone please take away my stationaries from me thanks

[artisadie]

"Seeing you like that sent a chill down my spine..."

[artiificiial]

struggling w art n motivation a lot rn so i forced myself to draw something silly featuring the robins!

my vision of what they are saying below vvv

[revalito]

of those we keep in the dark

[ahyesanerd]

Abckdkgodmnwx BUETIFUL MY HEART

Poor fricken Miguel OMG

Okay moving on from just the amizingness. I wanted to add this small idea for my little dimension travel bs heart cause I think it'd be funny.

Okay through the power of BS dimension traveling this universe meets the canon CoCo universe.

Now at this point I would say Miguel is 14 or so. It's the second Dia de Muertos since the whole adventure and everyone gets teleported into this room. Maybe to watch the movie (reaction boiz), maybe not IDK.

They all meet up and stuff happens. Miguel from evil Hector universe or EH!Miguel explains what's going on or our Miguel (C!Miguel) mentioned something to get EH!Hector talking.

Now everyone's all freaking out and C!Miguel who at this point has spent two more years with his crazy family, has met Mama Imelda, lives with Abuelita (Elena), and that knows how amazing his Papa Hector is. Just watching this version besmerk the good name of C!Papa Hector. This man, this child actually proceeds to grab the shoe off his foot and start verbally decimating EH!Hector as he smacks him with a f****** shoe. I don't know why I want to see this happen so badly but the idea of just C!Miguel verbally destroying this man as his C!Mama Imelda and Papa Hector watch in shock, concern, and yet so much proudness. Because that's a version of Hector but also he deserves it, he deserves it so freaking much. I just want Miguel to start wacking them with the shoe and go the hell off.

EH!Hector : Oh no Ernesto died long ago. I was so sad though that his loose mouth caused Miguel to die.

C!Imelda : (Ready to beat the man to death again) Excuse me what.

EH!Hector : Oh yes the whole I overdoesd him as if he didn't plan to kill me.

C!Hector : Excuse me what!?

EH!Hector: Well of course I mean I needed a way to support me famili-

EH!Miguel : You got me killed you fricken murder!

EH!Hector : Now Chamaco-

C!Miguel : Are you telling me you got a version of me killed over fricken music and still don't spend time with the rest of the family.

EH!Hector : Oh... Other Chamco no-

C!Miguel: Prepare to eat shoe you no good murdering musician of a------

He goes on for like 10 minutes

[FIC] Coco - The Sound of Silence (Evil Héctor AU)

I have no explanation for this.  I blame this art and this art.  And certain people talking.  You know who you are.  I’ve become a horrible person.

This isn’t a reverse or role-switch AU.  This is a whole new ballgame.

(Warnings:  Death.  Evil.  Emotional torture of character, reader, and author.  No real actual torture.  But still.  It’s painful.  Don’t read it.  Just don’t.  It’s a bad ending.  Nobody wins.)

Keep reading

[seasonalberries]

Caught up on the recent wha chapters :,3

[hadesisqueer]

RWBY Tweets: Canon Bees edition

[honey-doc]

urgh i love how kabru showed no reservations or disgust when holding mithrun here even though he's covered in sp*der guts cuz he's too concerned about him to care lol

i love them ahh🥹😭

[b-kut]

I know what you are

[bmblboop]

Coco's dramatic reveal in the Volume 9 Epilogue animatic is everything.

The fandom would have lost it's entire mind if we saw Team CFVY's return (in the Maya engine no less) at the end of Volume 9

[babycharmander]

Remember Me works much better as a lullaby than as a love song. I don't know what Ernesto was thinking. Well, actually he was probably thinking "My version would sell much better than Héctor's version!" and then proceeded to do just that. It's not like he cared that much about Héctor's or Coco's feelings at that point...

I mean, yeah, basically. I think it's entirely possible he didn't know about how significant the song was to Héctor, since the song was meant to be "secret" and Héctor may not have even brought it up to Ernesto. He may have assumed Héctor had written the song for Imelda, and figured from there it was a love song.

Like seriously, at the very least in the English version (I've heard some of the other dubs were less convincing) it does sound convincingly enough like a romance song. We were all fooled at first, right?

Of course, it does work better as a lullaby, as that was Héctor's original intention (and, from a doylist perspective, the intention of the songwriters). But I will admit I do like some of the other takes on it, like the one in the Spanish credits.

[pencopanko]

I edited this a little bit just to make sure that it is still readable! Guess who is back on her Coco phase again

Define “Love”: A Coco Fanfiction

Author’s note: I would like to thank thefreedictionary.com for the Spanish definition of love. I am by no means Hispanic but I’m currently just starting to learn Spanish. If anyone can recommend me a good Spanish-only dictionary or a grammar dictionary that’d be wonderful. I also would like to thank Charles M. Schulz for Peanuts, specifically the episode Play It Again, Charlie Brown.

As you can see, this little ship has taken over my life. And so, I present to you what is probably the first Marco x Rosa (Marosa) fanfiction on this site. It’s loosely based on @slusheeduck’s fanfiction titled Sonance, so I recommend reading it first. But the gist is Marco Veracruz is Ernesto’s great-great-grandson who at first hated Miguel for exposing Ernesto but later on became Miguel’s friend. It is implied in the story’s ending that the boy visits the Riveras during the holidays after that.

Why do I ship him with Rosa? I dunno, I guess it’s just the side effects. But I like it so here you go. Enjoy!

~~~~~

“Just a few more touches… Done! ¡Mira, what do you think?”

Marco held up his piece to Rosa who was sitting next to him as he was finishing up a watercolour study of Tía Carmen, his unknowing model, who was drawn carrying a basket of laundry. It was simple but there was a quiet beauty in it ― just like the model in real life, thought Rosa.

They were sitting in the dining room, staying away from the summer sun. It was a Sunday in June and the Riveras were having a day off from work, only going to the workshop for necessary repairs.

“I love it! And I’m sure Mamá would love it too”, she replied. Marco lit up as her words reached his ears. Why wouldn’t he? Back in México City, nobody at home would even take a glance at his artworks. His parents were either busy with handling the press and all that or were just too cold to even care. His manager only shrugged and said “Well, it’s alright I guess” before typing some messages on her phone again. Hearing such kind and encouraging words from someone truly felt good.

Seeing him lit up only made Rosa blush even more than she already had. ¡Ay, him and that smile of his! Qué injusto!

Miguel was off with Abel to help Abuelita with the groceries and to Rosa that meant spending more time with Marco. Starting last year, he had been visiting the Rivera family every summer–and Rosa had been enamored with the boy from México City ever since. Oh, sure, she was upset and angry that her cousin was treated badly by him at first, but after seeing him in person for the first time, she couldn’t help it. She was smitten.

At first, she nearly couldn’t tell them apart. But after taking a good look, she realized that her cousin and his new friend were as different as fire and ice. While Miguel was like cinnamon; heartwarming with a hint of sweetness, could be overpowering at times and a force to be reckoned with if angered, Marco was pure salt. Sassy, sometimes snarky, manipulative at times, and yet somehow without him things just felt incomplete like the time Tía Gloria forgot to add salt into the menudo for dinner last week. And, like her, her brothers, and her eldest cousin, he could be very determined.

Last year she didn’t get to tell him how she felt. She was too cautious last year, trying to test the waters. This time, she decided. This time I will tell him.

I will make him fall for me like how he made me fall for him.

“Marco?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you know what love is?”, she asked.

Marco paused and looked up from his sketchbook. He looked at Rosa, one brow raised. Love as a word wasn’t too hard to define but maybe she was testing her?

From what he knew, Rosa Rivera was the smartest out of all the Rivera children. Like pepper was she; adventurous, sassy, and could suit to all your needs, sweet or savoury. The ever-efficient, ever-reliable girl had a charm to her that Marco couldn’t put his hands on. But whatever it could be, he certainly liked it.

But this time, Marco was certain she was testing him. Definitely. She’s definitely testing my vocabulary, he thought.

And with a smug smile (that made Rosa instantly melt inside), he proudly said “Love. A noun. To be fond of. A strong affection for or attachment or devotion to a person or persons”.

Rosa looked at him as if he had said something odd. Rude, he thought. He looked around, and then back at her. “Uh, what?”, he asked. “Didn’t I just define it? Isn’t that what you want?”. Whatever game she was playing, he certainly didn’t know what the rules were. If only she would tell him!

That statement wasn’t what Rosa was expecting at all. Who defines love that way? Is this boy really that clueless? “Marco,” she slowly replied, “That’s… not exactly what I meant…”. She gave him a lopsided grin and let out a little chuckle.

Marco then realized he just defined love in English. Seeing Rosa’s expression (that was somehow really cute ― wait what) he decided to make it easier for the both of them.

By defining it in Spanish.

“Amor. Sentimienteo de afecto y pasión experimentado por una persona hacia otra. Vivo afecto o inclinación hacia una persona o cosa”.

He looked at her. She looked at him. And then Rosa laughed. Oh, how silly were they being! A girl in love with a boy who was painfully oblivious. It did hurt, but seeing his face somehow made up for the pain. And then he laughed too, her laughter being too contagious. The two of them laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

“No, tonto! I meant as a feeling!” Rosa snickered. Marco chuckled as their laughter died down. And with a sad smile, he replied “Ah, how could anyone define anything as a feeling if they’ve never felt it before?”

Rosa looked at him, confused. Have never felt love before? How is that possible?

“But” she retorted, “surely you’ve felt it! I mean, don’t your parents-”

He shook his head. “They are cold towards me”, he said in a low voice.

“All they see is the boy whose job is to keep his great-great-grandfather’s legacy intact. The moment I rebelled by performing with Miguel and showing interest in something other than music, they basically lowkey disowned me.”

“How about crushes?”, Rosa continued.

Yet all she received was a shrug.

“Miguel was the very first actual friend I’ve ever had. I’ve never had an actual friend before, let alone a girlfriend”, he continued. He then looked at Rosa to see her eyes were that of pity. And what looked like affection? But maybe it was just the heat.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “I don’t need your pity”. His words only made Rosa pity him even more. Oh, how she wanted to hug all that hurt away! That smile of his suited him much more, anyway.

Rosa sighed. And with a soft smile she placed her right hand on his left shoulder. Marco looked at his shoulder and then Rosa. For some reason, he liked it. And he didn’t want her to let go. But why?

The girl next to him then smiled and said “To me, love is like a really good book. You just don’t want to let go of it”. Looking at little Socorro being carried by Tía Luisa, with Tío Enrique following close behind, she then continued.

“Love is like a warm hug or a cool bed. Or a really fluffy blanket. Or a cup of champurrado”.

Then she looked at Benny and Manny, who were singing some theme song from a superhero cartoon. “Sometimes,” she continued. “Love is like a song. It gets stuck in your head and that’s all you can think of.

"But,” she then added. “Love is also more than all that.”

Marco looked at her, confused. “More than all that?”, he asked. “Then, what is love?”

Rosa shrugged. After a few moments of silence, she looked at the ofrenda room and finally continued. “Love is a feeling you find in the most unexpected of places and or people.”

“Like Héctor Rivera and Mamá Imelda?”, Marco wondered out loud. Rosa looked at him with a smile and said, “Si, just like the two of them”. From their photo alone one could see how different they were (and are) in nature. The ever-serious, no-nonsense Imelda Rivera one day met the goofy, gentle-hearted músico named Héctor. And somehow love blossomed between the two.

“Don’t worry, Marco,” Rosa said gently. “I’m one hundred percent positive you’ll find love one day.” Marco smiled. He truly felt grateful for this talk of theirs.

Without realizing it, Rosa’s lips had already met Marco’s cheek. Gone was her previous ambition. All she wanted now was to see him happy. Marco gasped but before he could say anything, Rosa seemed to have realized what she had done. Embarrassed, she ran to the workshop, blushing like never before.

It felt weird being kissed by her but… it felt good? Pleasant, even. He didn’t know exactly how to react but deep down he felt happy for some reason. It certainly wasn’t like how those “tías” and “señoras” (who probably marinated themselves in their sickly perfume, he might add) would peck on his cheeks with lips overloaded with lipstick during events and important dinners like hens pecking on grains and worms.

This one had actual emotion put into it.

And suddenly all that confidence he knew he had felt like it suddenly vanished and now he felt a little bit shy.

He touched his cheek and wondered whether love could be found here, in this family after all.

Meanwhile, two boys were hiding in the ofrenda room, trying their best to stifle their laughter as Marco defined love to Rosa. Before anyone noticed, they ran to the older boy’s room and slammed the door shut before they both fell to the ground in a heap of laughter. But little did they know that something else happened after that.

While Abel and he were cackling like no tomorrow, Miguel also made a mental note to write to Papá Héctor and the rest for Diá de Muertos. He was absolutely certain that Tía Rosita would absolutely love it, the romantic that she was.

Oh, he thought. They would love to know about this!

[jorenilee]

doodles of my dauhter !!! and her weirdass teacher

[guttednight]

this was all i could think of reading the end of volume 12 / chapter 68