#mamà coco

[juliedrawz]

Guys! My heart! Yesterday evening something happened that I didn't expect AT ALL!

So it was my cousins birthday. No biggie. Just another small family get together at my aunts. Some cake, some really good dinner, boring chit chat. You name it.

And, of course, eventually, I sat ... and sat ... and got bored. So I took out my Ipad and started drawing Coco stuff, when all of the sudden I hear my Dad go in a whisper to my great cousin (She's almost 7, mind you) "Uh oh ... don't let Julie hear that!"

Too late! Sweet familiar melodies I've engraved in my heart reach my ears and I'm immersed in the movie I love more than anything! I hear Héctor talk to Miguel and that's it. I Turn my head, the child giggles and grins and boom, I scuttle closer next to her and before we know it, we are BOTH deeply in the movie. Dad shakes his head grinning, Mom beams from ear to ear as my great cousin showers me with a huricane of questions and facts.

"Did you know Ernesto's guitar is actually Héctor's"?

"Yes, sweety! I know 😂"

"Why is Imelda angry at Héctor?"

"Because she was very sad when he didn't come back."

My great cousin loudly - "But he wanted to come back!! Ernesto kept him from going!"

Me - 🫠 "Yes, sweety! I know!!" 💪😭 *so proud!!*

And she literally proceeded to ask me questions and I answered them all! Why do alebrijes look so colorful? Why does Pepita turn back into a cat? Why does Miguel turn a skeleton? Why did Ernesto snap?

She also wanted to know my top 3 and DUH, did I say, Héctor, Imelda, Ernesto! Héctor being nr 1. And she agress but says, "Héctor, Miguel, Ernesto!" And I'm just 🥹💘 (She said, Ernesto folks!! She's a clever one! She doesn't put the "Villain" stamp on him but understands (as far as child can at that age) that something went wrong with him. One day, when she's old enough, she'll get to read my book! That's for sure!

And further more, speaking of Héctor's guitar, her Dad comes around singing un poco loco and asks, "Why can't you play her un poco loco?"

Me - "Because I've only been playing for 10 months? I'm not that good yet! 🥲"

He - "Well then learn faster!" 😂

Me - 🥲 "I wish I could! Believe me ... it's not that easy!"

And great cousin asks when I will finish Héctor's guitar. OF COURSE, Dad had to tell her what I'm up to!

Me - "Soon, I hope!"

Fast forward, un poco loco comes on, we sing! My aunt comes, hears and you can see the sneer in her face 🤣 but I already have the multitude on my side! So we settle in an agreement to turn the music down slightly!

And then Imelda comes and sings, and my great cousin goes "Imelda sings sooooo good!"

And I 🥰 "Oh yes she does!"

We keep watching the movie, kid keeps asking stuff, I answer and feel like the greatest nerd ever 😆🤓 The movie ends, we clapp and cheer, and kid proceeds to ask me to draw the characters. I show her my works and she's in awe! "Wow! You can draw them like in the movie!" And I'm 🤧❤️‍🔥 (you guys know kids are darn honest, no?) It went down like oil! I felt SO good! 🤣

Anyway, we drew a little, had dinner and then she fell asleep.

Will I continue to turn my family into Coco-fans? Heck yes!

[we-do-bones-bracket]

Round 1 Match 20

Propaganda:

Kurloz Makara

He wears bones

[dinosaurs-in-a-spaceship]

There she is ! After days of cutting, gluing, painting, sewing and other things, I present to you : Mamà Coco !

(See photos below to see a bit a the process)

My nephew is obsessed with a dead grandma.

But not just any dead grandma : with Mamá Coco.

See, I've this book with originals and sequels Pixar stories

and in it there's one with Dante and Pepita going in the Land of the Dead to learn what is Papá Hector favourite meal for Día de Los Muertos.

And we see dead Mamá Coco

When I bought it, few days later, my nephew, who is 2, came for a visit so I showed him the book and we stumble on this story. He asked "What is it ?" pointing at Coco. I said "Who is it ? It's Mamá Coco." He repeated the name, visibly statisfied.

Since then (it's been months), everytime he comes, after saying hello and everything, he asks me "Coco ?" so I give him the book and he searches for Coco.

There's a lot of other stories in it, but no, it's always Coco.

I started looking for a little something to give him with Mamá Coco face on it but, oh boy, that's nearly impossible. Because there's things with Mamá Coco but not with DEAD Mamá Coco.

Since it's Halloween season, I'll find the materials more easily and maybe I'll try to make Coco with a little skeleton or a plushie and sew the clothes... wish me good luck !

[pengychan]

[Coco] Mija

Title: Mija Summary: Héctor hadn’t expected to wind up in a cenote. He hadn’t expected his daughter to be there, either.  [Protagonist Swap AU.] Characters: Héctor Rivera, Coco Rivera Rating: K

A/N: This fic was written for @twinklecupcake -  it is based on their AU where little Coco visits the LotD, believing Ernesto to be the father she remembers so little of. They asked for something where Héctor realizes who the little girl he’s been hanging with really is, and here it is.  Hope you like it - and happy birthday!

***

I need to get out. I must get out. I must find Chica-- get her away from him-- tell everyone what he did-- cross the bridge--

Héctor’s thoughts are a jumbled mess of anger, desperation, and the sort of utter bewilderment that can only come with the sudden knowledge he’s been murdered, and by his best friend of all people. He doesn’t know how it’s possible, but he does know that this can’t be out it ends, at the bottom of a damp cenote, trapped forever with his little girl at the other side of the bridge. Trapped forever with his little girl on this side of the bridge.

The thought chills him to the marrow. It would mean losing the one hope he holds onto - that even of he can never cross over, one day her life will have run its course and he will see her again in the Land of the Dead. But if he stays trapped in there until he’s forgotten and turns to dust-- if he cannot find a way out-- then he will never see her again. He will never speak to her again. He will never hug her again.

He will never be able to tell her how sorry he is, how loved she was, how he tried to come home.

“No,” he chokes out, clawing at the ridiculously smooth wall of the cenote, trying to gain some traction-- trying to climb up. “No, no, no, no! Let me out of here! Ernesto! You can’t do this to me! Someone, anyone--”

“NO!”

The sudden shriek above him causes him to trail off and look up, alarmed. It is the voice of a terrified child, and one he’s learned to know well; horror wells in his ribcage at the realization.

It can’t be. Not his own daughter. What is he doing, why, how could he--

“No, no, no, no! Let me go! Please! Papá! PA--”

There are shadows above him, against the pale light making it into the cenote, and with one last shriek something is suddenly dropped, down down down into the water.

“Chica!”

Héctor is in the water the next moment, just as the little girl breaks the surface with a gasp and struggles to stay afloat. “Papá!” she calls out, looking up, and the despair in her voice cuts deep.

“I’ve got you,” Héctor gasps, putting an arm around her and helping her stay afloat. “I’ve got you, Chica, come--”

“Héctor,” she chokes out, and clings back to him. He can’t see tears, her face all wet, but he hears them in her voice. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry--”

“Hey, hey--”

“I should have listened to you! I should have listened to mamá and my tíos and Ceci and-- they told me, you all told me-- mamá tried to warn me and I ran away from her-- mamá loves me and he doesn’t and I said such mean things to her...!”

By the time they make it to solid ground, the little girl is a sobbing mess. How could she not? Finding out that her papà - the man she hardly remembered but whose faint, faint memory she’d so clung to for so long - was a murderer, a fraud, and willing to let her die to keep his secret… it would break anyone. “... We’ll get you to your mamá, yes?” he says gently, pulling her close. She’s shaking, but still so warm compared to him; her bones can be seen, but not felt. She is still alive, and does not belong here.

But she will, if she stays any longer.

He chases away the thought, trying to reassure her; she’s curling up against him, and he finds himself rocking her like he did to his Coco, only a few years and yet an eternity ago. Ay, how he misses her. “We’ll find a way out,” he promises, knowing there is none. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you, and give you her blessing to go home, and… and this will be like a bad dream.”

“But it isn’t,” Chica chokes out. “It’s all true. And-- he murdered you-- I’m so sorry--”

“It wasn’t you, nenita. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“He didn’t care. All those letters and he didn’t care,” she’s weeping quietly now, head resting against Héctor’s ribcage, where his heart would be. And something may very well be there, because oh, there is such a tightness in his chest cavity. “Chica--”

“We had a song-- he said it was for me, but then he shared it with everyone else… a-and it wasn’t even his song! He stole it!”

Remember Me. That backstabbing rat had sung her Coco’s song, of all songs, and meant precisely none of it. Anger rears up its head, and he opens his mouth to speak-- but she speaks first, and whatever he was about to mutter turns into ashes in his mouth.

“He said it was our secret song, that-- not even mamà knew it, and we could sing it together every night, no matter how far apa--”

“Qué??” His outburst causes the child to recoil, and pull back to look up at him, startled. Her eyes look so large for her little face, and for the first time-- no. No, it cannot be. This is all… this isn’t… it would be absurd. Ernesto had used his songs for fame, his death for a movie scene-- surely he wouldn’t hesitate to use his exact words, too.

But he never heard them, did he? No one ever did, except--

“... Coco?”

Those warm brown eyes grow larger, stunned. She looks up at him like he’s grown antlers.  “How… how did you guess my name?”

His Coco. For a moment, Héctor cannot speak. Something in his head is buzzing like a trapped moth; the greatest shock of his life or afterlife - his best friend murdering him - suddenly doesn’t seem all that shocking anymore. He reaches out, his hand moving almost on its own, to brush away some of the wet hair stuck on her cheek. Oh God, how could he not realize it sooner? The eyes, those cheekbones, the chin-- the tilt of her head so much like Imelda’s-- the fact Pepita was after her when they met… how could he be so blind?

“Héctor?” Coco whispers, anguish melted away into confusion… and something else, something that is balancing just on the brink of comprehension. She keeps staring, transfixed, as Héctor’s bony hand cups her cheek.

“... You got so big,” is all he can say. Suddenly he has no more words… but what he does have, what they do have, is a song. “Remember me, though I have to say goodbye, remember me…”

As the words come unbidden to his mouth and the melody fills the cave - the real melody, how it was always meant to be, not the shambles Ernesto turned it into - he can see his Coco’s eyes growing bigger, comprehension finally dawning in. And then-- then she sings, too, a small hand reaching up for his face, almost close enough to touch.

“Know that I'm with you the only way that I can be...”

“... Until you’re in my arms again…”

She remembered. She remembers, and suddenly her eyes are brimming with tears again, the way they would when she was little more than a baby and had a bad dream, when he and Imelda would come with a candle to comfort her.

“PAPÁ!”

Her shriek echoes throughout the cenote, her arms reach around him, and Héctor holds her close and tight, tighter than he ever held anyone in life or death. It is staggering, incomprehensible: after years of trying, it wasn’t him to cross the bridge. Coco did, and she found him. All along, for hours now, his little girl has been right by his side. In his arms again.

“Coco,” Héctor manages. “Mija...” he pulls back with what feels like the biggest effort he’s ever made, staring down at her. He cups her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I was trying to come home-- I kept trying, every year. I missed you so much. I love you so much.”

“I missed you too,” she chokes out. “A-and mamá-- she thinks you just left, and I thought-- I didn’t want to believe it, but I you never came--”

“I was trying, Coco, I was trying to come home. I’m so sorry, I should have never left.”

She sniffles, wiping her eyes. “H-he… de la Cruz… he killed you,” she whispers, and suddenly she’s glaring, features twisting in fury. “He took you from us!”

He did, and Héctor will probably be furious again soon enough, but right now all he can think is that he has his little girl again. Coco is with him, and everything is all right.

… Except that it isn’t. Coco is not meant to be there. Coco cannot stay there.

“You… you need to go home,” Héctor says, pulling back. She shakes her head.

“No! I need to tell mamá what really happened before I go back! And... I can’t leave you here! We must get out, a-and-- the photo, we have to get it back…!”

“I’ll be fine,” he lies. He has no idea if he’ll ever be able to get out of there at all, or if so when, and the thought of sending his little girl away from him now hurts, but he brushes all of that aside. “If you stay here, you’ll die. I can’t let it happen. I can-- God, I could have given you the blessing all along! You could have gone home-- I-- I’ll do it now!”

Her little face falls. “Papá…”

“Hush. Por favor,” he brushes the back of his hand against her cheek. It’s so small, so soft, so warm. Flesh and skin and blood-- it’s life, all hers to live. He makes an effort to smile, and reaches for her wet hair. “Go home for both of us, sí? Pass on my story. I… I'll find  way across, and you'll see me again one da--”

The flowers. The marigold flowers he’d woven in her hair before the talent show are gone.

No. Oh no. No, no, no.

Horror must have shown in his gaze, and Coco looks up at him in despair. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. Héctor shakes his head. He feels as though something had struck him.

“Th-they must have come loose when they threw you in,” he mutters, and stands, taking a few steps towards the water. “I’ll have a dive and find them, we only need a petal, they-- they must be somewhere in the wa--”

“I took them off.” Coco’s voice is so small, so regretful and frightened. “A-after we a-argued at the talent show-- I was so mad, I’m sorry, I took them all off and now--!”

“Coco…” Héctor kneels next to her, or maybe his legs give in, but it doesn’t matter. He takes her back in his arms, tight. “I’m the one who’s sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice-- I just-- all I could think was crossing the bridge…”

“To see me,” Coco sniffles, and he nods.

“Yes. Yes, mija, to see you.”

“I-- I’m sorry I lied to you. I really wanted to see my papà,” she mutters, holding him back. “... I have now. I’m so happy it’s you.”

It would make his non-existent heart swell, in any other moment, but not now and not here. Even as he smiles down at her, all he could think is how desperate their situation is: stuck at the bottom of a cenote, without anyone who’d help knowing it… and her time is running out.

It’s his fault, Héctor thinks, all his fault. How could he be such an idiot? So many details fit now that he knew the truth, how could he not realize earlier that he was looking at his own daughter? How could he be so blind not to recognize the most important thing in his world? He could have given her his blessing any moment, he could have sent her home any moment, and he had not.

Remember me, he’d asked of her, but he… he couldn’t even recognize her. His mind was stuck on the image of the small child he’d left behind, and now it’s too late. He messed up again, and in the worst possible way. He doomed her, he--

“We’ve got to look for a way out,” Coco speaks suddenly, and stands. She wiped her face and looked down at him, a scowl creasing her brow, looking so much like a general poised for battle.

So much like Imelda.

“We have to get your picture back so you can cross over! And we need to find mamá and tell her the truth,” she declares. “She thinks you left us and it’s not fair. And we’ve got to tell everyone what de la Cruz did! He murdered you and took your songs and he’s got to pay for what he did to our family!”

Yes. Definitely Imelda.

Pushing the dread - it is useless, there is no way out - out of his mind Héctor stands, and takes her hand. She’s right: they must find a way out, or at least try. He never gave up trying to cross the bridge and he won’t give up now, either. Not with his daughter’s life at stake.

“... Right,” he says, and makes an effort to smile. “Let’s find a way out of here, mija.”

Coco gives him a smile that contains all the beauty in the world, and Héctor is too mesmerized by it to hear, somewhere above them, the flapping of huge wings as something lands by the sinkhole. 

The roar, however, doesn't go unnoticed.

***

“--Grounded for your entire afterlife, do you hear me? Oh just you wait until you cross over again! Run off to de la Cruz’s mansion! What was that even about??”

Her mamá’s voice rises over the wind rushing against her face and over the powerful beats of Pepita’s wings, all anger and terror and relief and unshakeable love underneath it all. It makes her smile wider as he papá, holding onto Pepita’s tail, speaks up in her defense.

“It’s not her fault, Imelda! She thought Ernesto was her father!”

“SHE THOUGHT WHAT!” Something else enters her mamá’s voice - utter outrage - and Coco’s smile turns just a little sheepish. “If he were the last man on Earth, I wouldn’t-- how could...!”

“Well… you know, that photo, and the guitar…”

��YOU-- me, marry that cabrón! I have never been so insulted in my life and afterlife!”

“Sorry!”

“You better be, señorita!” Her mamá raves on a little more, but Coco can’t stop smiling. They’re not out of the woods yet, they still have a photo to recover and a murderer to kick very hard in the shins, and her mamá is still mad at her papá - but they can fix everything.

Her familia is together again and she believes, with all her heart, that all will be well.

***

[Here’s another thing I wrote based on this AU]

[mongoosecivique]

Mamà Coco is a Disney Princess

This wonderful, ole bitch is Disney’s first Mexican Princess. This woman is disabled (has dementia and legs so weak that she requires a wheelchair), she is the matriarch of a thriving, multi-generational Mexican family, she holds out hope for her father, whom everyone despised, even at deaths bed, her hopeful demeanor towards her father’s abscense (and Miguel’s help) restores music to the Riveras family and keeps Héctor’s spirit alive, and her death even marks a new era of appreciation for the family’s core values and culture. Hell, the film is even named after her. Though it seems as if she has not done too many heroic acts, she does inspire Miguel to believe in a future with music. It’s her unyielding sense of hope -uttering “papa” when Miguel analyzed the old photo on the enfrenda- that urges him to dig deeper into the family’s history.

Mamà Coco is a Disney princess who offers the universe an untraditional hero. She’s a princess that defies agism, race, the status-quo, ableist-centric ideals and even death (sort of, she lives on in the after life). Recuerdé not Coco as simply a culturally-mold-breaking film, but as Queen Coco’s coronation.

[dogbearinggifts]

Elegy, Part One

A/N: Another idea that isn’t mine, but adapted from this post by @daughterofthemoon99, exploring an AU where Imelda is the one to visit the Land of the Dead. Although that post posited that she visit a year or two after his disappearance, since she would be more likely to investigate and more open to having her assumptions proven wrong, I figured a later timeline would provide more opportunities for conflict, and got permission for the change. 

********

Hèctor’s songbook.

Imelda’s thoughts were a blank save for those two words, the name of the thin leatherbound volume resting in her hands. Since bringing it home, she’d brought herself to open it exactly once, just long enough for the familiar handwriting and lyrics to hit her like a dash of cold water. She’d slammed it closed immediately, but it had been too late. She might as well have found her former husband and had him talk to her awhile.

His songbook.

Among Ernesto de la Cruz’s things.

He’d been buried in Santa Cecilia; avoiding that bit of news had proven impossible. Such a famous man, returned to his hometown at last—it was all anyone talked about. Perhaps Imelda could have kept from hearing talk of that mùsico had her attempts to barricade herself in the workshop been successful, but the for all its acclaim, the zapaterìa was not yet capable of running without intervention from its founder. This quandary or that complaint called her to the front, where she was subjected, yet again, to the talk of the town.

She shouldn’t have taken the book. She shouldn’t have been where she could see it fall, shouldn’t have been close enough to be struck with familiarity when it hit the ground, but it was too late for all that. All she had now was the present, the book, and the memories it had dredged up.

“Mamà?”

Imelda slipped the songbook beneath her pillow. “Sì, Coco?”

Her daughter gave her a longer look than was necessary, a question behind her eyes. ¿Estàs bien?

Imelda had seen that question lurking in her daughter’s eyes more often than she would have liked over the past few weeks, ever since that songbook found its way into her hands. Coco had never vocalized it, but Imelda knew it was only a matter of time before her fraying nerves drove her daughter to more than silent support.

And when that finally happened, Imelda didn’t trust herself to brush the question off.

“Julio has a question for you.”

“What’s the question?”

Coco’s mouth tipped. “He says he can’t explain it. He has to show you.”

Imelda couldn’t help a small smile of her own as she got to her feet. Coco’s husband rarely asked questions using words alone. If he wanted to know where a tool was stored, he wouldn’t say, “Where do you want me to put this?” The first word, drawn out and paired with a questioning look as he held the tool, was enough for him.

Imelda fell into step beside her daughter, allowing her quick strides to push the songbook as close to the back of her mind as it would go.

********

That Dìa de los Muertos was as beautiful a holiday as anyone could have asked for. The sun made its way across a cloudless blue sky, and a soft breeze ruffled her dress and tugged at loose pieces of her hair.

The preparations passed quickly, without incident. Her familia approached them with the same commitment to efficiency they displayed in the workshop—do what needs to be done, do it well, and then move on to the next task until there are no more tasks to do. A blessing on one hand: she could assign a task and trust its recipient would complete it, pausing only to seek her guidance where needed.

A curse on the other: her mind was free to wander toward the songbook.

Whenever she’d remembered that songbook, back when she still liked to torment herself with thoughts of Hèctor, she had imagined him thumbing through the pages with that smile on his face, trying to determine which of her songs would best charm the woman in the next room. “I was thinking of you when I wrote that,” he’d say when the song worked its magic. Maybe the next song he wrote would indeed be for that new woman; maybe he would have moved on to another romance by then.

In no case did she imagine him giving that book to Ernesto.

Imelda pushed her thoughts back from the songbook. She’d tried to unravel the mystery in the months since it fell into her hands, and all she’d discovered was a lack of murmurs regarding its disappearance. Which hinted that it was not one of his more important effects, but then, why return it to Santa Cecilia at all?

No. Best to think about other things. Today was a day for family.

She managed to keep her thoughts more or less on the present. By sunset, she smiled as little Victoria walked through the complex, watching her feet as if she suspected her shoes would flee without supervision. Coco had once managed to coax it out of her that she was making up stories in her head, though Victoria had never volunteered details. At least she seemed to be enjoying herself, even if her wanderings took her closer and closer to Imelda’s bedroom.

Imelda’s smile fell as she pictured Victoria wandering in, perhaps catching sight of an unconcealed corner of the songbook, opening it….

Coco was there before Imelda could move, steering Victoria away from the corridors and back toward the rest of the family. Imelda still waited until both were a safe distance away and hurried in.

The songbook was not visible from where she stood—a small relief—but under a pillow was hardly the best place to keep something hidden. She left the door slightly ajar, took the songbook in her hand, and glanced round.

It had been safe under her mattress for the past few weeks, but that could have been plain luck, and luck could run out. A drawer was the next obvious choice—though it might be too obvious. Perhaps she could—

The door slammed shut.

Imelda jumped, slipping the songbook into her apron pocket. She froze, listening, and sure enough there were voices outside the door.

“Mamà?” Coco’s. “Is…is everything all right?”

Dios mio. It must have looked like she’d slammed the door on her family, on this of all days. “I’m fine, mija. It was just the wind.”

There was a long pause at the other side of the door. “Mamà?”

Imelda’s heart skipped a beat—but there was no reason for that. None. She must have spoken more softly than she’d intended. “I said I’m fine, Coco.”

The latch clicked. Coco stood in the doorway, casting a glance through the room. Her gaze lingered on Imelda no longer than it did on the window or the bed. “She’s not in here.”

What?

“Do you think she went a little further down?”

“I saw her come in here, Julio,” Coco said. “I—I don’t know where she could have gone…”

Coco was fooling. She had decided, against her nature and all evidence to the contrary, that it would be funny to pretend not to see her own mother. Perhaps she’d carry the charade awhile, but Julio? “Julio, stop this. I—” 

They turned back toward the rest of the complex, letting the door close in her face. Imelda hurried to the door and grasped at the knob, her hand passing through as if one or the other were made of smoke.

No charade. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was no charade. 

She had no time to think what might have happened; there were endless possibilities and each was too bizarre to contemplate. She needed out of that room, needed to get someone’s attention, needed to find a way to correct…whatever it was that had happened. 

Imelda drew a few quick breaths to steady herself. The first task was simple enough. The first one was doable. If her hand passed through the knob, then the door itself would function much the same way. She had only to purposely walk into a door.

She closed her eyes, clenched her fists. This was fine. This was nothing. This was just what had to be done.

She took the biggest step she could.

When she opened her eyes, the door was behind her and her daughter was already a few meters away. By instinct she started to call out, remembered what had happened before, and started forward instead.

Then froze.

Somewhere, somewhere close by, was music. Not the muffled, impersonal strains of a neighboring celebration, nor the passing notes of a roving band of musicians on their way to learn a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have thought it was coming from the next room.

It couldn’t be. 

It wasn’t. 

Yet there it was. 

Music. Soft and intimate guitar notes playing as clear as day.

Imelda backed from the door, trying to keep her breathing steady. She couldn’t be touched, couldn’t be seen, couldn’t stop hearing music in a house that hadn’t welcomed so much as a phonograph for twenty-one years.

A dream. She was dreaming. It was still the night before Dìa de Muertos and this and everything that had come before it had been a prelude to the strangest nightmare her mind had to offer. She backed away from the music, toward the rest of the family.

“No, I haven’t seen her.” Concern already laced Rosita’s voice. “Are you sure you saw her go into that room?”

Imelda turned as Coco nodded. “We checked the other rooms, but she wasn’t there, either.”

“I’ll help you look,” Rosita said. Imelda made a grab for her hand, but she might as well have grasped at water.

The music was no fainter here; if anything, it surrounded her now, playing from everywhere and nowhere. No one else mentioned it. No one batted an eye. No pained look crossed Coco’s face; no look of fearful confusion crossed anyone else’s.

Imelda backed from the search beginning in her honor. They wouldn’t find her if she stayed, but she knew that tune and she couldn’t be where the music was when a voice joined that guitar.

She didn’t realize she’d gone through the gate until it filled her vision, growing smaller as she moved ever backward. Somehow, she got the presence of mind to turn around even with the music following, though it had grown a little fainter now that she was out. Away from her family.

On Dìa de los Muertos.

She had to go back. 

Their concern would become panic if she didn’t return soon, but how was she to return when she couldn’t be seen or heard? Still, she had to go back, try to communicate somehow, music or no music—

In turning to glance behind, she hadn’t slowed her pace; a sudden collision brought her attention back to the path before her. Imelda looked up, irritated remark at the ready, but it died on her lips. 

There, neatly dressed in slacks, hat, and jacket, with a clipboard in hand, was a skeleton.

******

A/N: Enjoying this story? Find Part Two here.

[ezbeatles]

VERY LONG TANGENT ABOUT "COCO" AHEAD!!:SPOILERS FOR SURE!!

So,like many others,I cried when I watched coco but maybe for different reasons. I actually met my great great grandpa when I was 8. He was 98 at the time ,9 decades between us. I didn't realize how lucky I was at that point because I was young and scared that if I hugged him too hard I would break him. Now when I think about him I just want to cry. He moved to America from Mexico and is the reason I am here today, he's the one who worked tirelessly like Mamà Imelda so that I could have a chance to live well. And now that my great grandparents are reaching their nineties I worry about losing them everyday. Mama coco looked almost identical to my granny and I wanted to bawl when she couldn't remember Hector because I don't want my granny to forget me. She's always been the biggest supporter of my singing. My granny always sings along and cries when I sing to her so when Coco started singing I was gone. I think I cried because while I'm thankful for my relationship with them, I'm more terrified of losing it. They're my past and I'm they're future like Hector and Miguel. I feel such a deep connection with this movie because it helped me deal with the eventuality of losing my great grandparents and knowing it's going to be ok when it happens because I'll still have them in my heart and in my memories.

TL;DR: I love Coco and it made me love my great grandparents more than I already do.

[zappsbrannigan]

 Ok can we talk about Coco for a moment?? I saw it days ago and...as i have mixed feelings towards it and mostly of them arent that good; before to start keep on mind: IM MEXICAN, IVE LIVED ON MEXICO MY WHOLE LIFE ‘TIL NOW AND TRUST ME I LOVE MY COUNTRY, so...yeah this goes more than whole representation...

READ MORE BECAUSE IS HUGE

For start i thought it was gonna be a mess because Dia de Muertos, topic...which ,even if is something we celebrate even at schools isnt even the fuckin half of our culture as country so see that its kinda tiring...but guess what that became a good point about the movie...its fuckin obvious n im amazed they made good research about our country n some little quirks towards it so I cant say that is bad I laughed on a couple of scenes (especially on the bands contests...IS THAT A MOTHERFUCKIN BRONCOS/LA BANDA EL RECODO’S REFERENCE??!! ) and also..I’m very grateful about the mexican dub, they got really fuckin good talented and well known celebrities so at least my ear it was so thankful to hear El Buki and Gael Garcia (and others)...and let them sing for the ost...the good animation (expected from pixar),the decent research and the AMAZING ost/dub are things are worth to mention

The movie really captures the mexicans family escence?? yes...but here is when the whole thing goes down.

Why?? Ok the plot is about a kid (Miguel) who wants to become a Mariachi but his family is agaisnt it, doesnt sound that bad??,right?? well the kid actually tries to do something and...his family breaks his beloved guitar; the way how his grandma (not confuse with his Mamà Coco aka the great grandmother and Im not enterin into details about her “arc” its emotive and i understand if someone here cried with that) thinks “is helpin him” and doesnt really listen him...n even his parents agree with it...its so harmful even abusive ; and how they force him to work at the familiar’s job...I know there’s a plot beside that fear for the musicians but anyway...

the whole movie is mostly around that mistery on his family...about Hector and Ernesto de la Cruz backstories...that I even felt that Miguel is just standin here ‘til a point he *gives up* when...suddenly before the movie ends his relatives change their mind (talkin about the final scene with Mamà Imelda)...which, I dunno sounds fake...or doesnt convice it; on that aspect the movie is weak even is the rest of the stuff is decent n...here comes the problem.

The whole “Your family is first” or “You have to be with your family doesnt matter what” might be very delicate topic about kids (even teens or adults) living on similar situation as Miguel...but unlike on the movie ,their family IS ABUSIVE because sadly irl there wont be plot twists or your family wont change doesnt matter how much you try. Of course...neither the movie should be NEGATIVE but...I dont feel genuine how everything got resolved and the message doesnt apply on everyone.

Even, yeah Its a fun watch for kids or people (spooky skeletons), I like that kids are seein animated movies again but...yeah I feel Coco more like: A Libro de la Vida but with an Oscar.

Nice animation, mediocre story and horrible message if we’re talkin about the MC, I’m sorry so much.I think normalizes “casual” abuse (im sorry i cant find a proper word, feel free to tell me if there’s a better word or term)

[we-do-bones-bracket]

Who did bones the best?

here are the finalized brackets! the tournament will be split into two brackets. the finalists of both will go up against each other to determine the winner. characters who were the most popular during submissions will join in round 2

rules & guidelines

about spoilers

matches under cut!

Abraham "Brom Bones" van Brunt (Headless: A Sleepy Hollow Story) vs. Skull (One Piece)

Laudna (Critical Role) vs. Sese Kitsugai (Len'en Project)

Benny (Halloweentown) vs. Enki Ankarian (Fear & Hunger)

Stalhorse (The Legend of Zelda) vs. Skeleton Horse (Minecraft)

Skeleton Mob (Minecraft) vs. Stallord (The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess)

Ryuk (Death Note) vs. Sam Day Break (Paradise Killer)

Adalman (That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime) vs. Hero's Shade/Hero's Spirit (The Legend of Zelda)

Sir Daniel Fortesque (MediEvil) vs. Skeletor (He-Man)

The Forgotten (Binding of Isaac) vs. Countess Ariadne de Winter (Til Death Do Us Bard)

Kel'thuzad (Warcraft) vs. Christopher Flores (Wayward Children)

The Lich King/Arthas Menethil (Warcraft) vs. Bones (Johannes Cabal the Necromancer)

Toro Muerto (The Book of Life) vs. Yodomi Arakawa (Skeleton Double)

Immortan Joe (Mad Max Fury Road) vs. Laika (Laika: Aged Through Blood)

Clinkz (DOTA 2) vs. Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck (Bleach)

Ianthe Tridantarius (The Locked Tomb) vs. Zenon Zogratis (Black Clover)

Palamedes Sextus (The Locked Tomb) vs. Ketheric Thorm (Baldur's Gate 3)

Ruth Fleming (Nerdy Prudes Must Die) vs. Dr. Bones Cookie (Cookie Run)

Misetani Box (Dai Dark) vs. Frank (Generation Loss)

Shimada Death (Dai Dark) vs. Bone (Warriors)

Kurloz Makara (Homestuck) vs. Mamà Imelda (Coco)

Jake English (Homestuck) vs. Hector (Coco)

SkullBaluchimon (Digimon) vs. Skullgreymon (Digimon)

SkullKnightmon (Digimon) vs. Jolly Roger

Cubone (Pokémon) vs. Ryme (Pokémon Scarlet and Violet)

Skeletal Dragon (The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim) vs. Boneknapper (How to Train Your Dragon)

Shinnok (Mortal Kombat) vs. Hector (Castlevania)

Lady Micte (Maya and the Three) vs. Conway (Kentucky Route Zero)

Veralidaine "Daine" Sarrasi (The Immortal Quartet) vs. Pious Augustus (Eternal Darkness: Sanity's Requiem)

Zélie Adebola (Children of Blood and Bone) vs. SkekMal the Hunter (The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance)

The Hound (RWBY) vs. Nuckelavee (RWBY)

Nina Zenik (Six of Crows) vs. Undertaker (Black Butler)

Yorick (Hamlet) vs. Pale Rider (Persona)

Skelita Calaveras (Monster High) vs. Hell Biker (Persona)

Nico Di Angelo (Percy Jackson) vs. Bone Ravage (Fortnite)

Death (Discworld) vs. Mort (Hello from the Hallowoods)

Acererak (Dungeons & Dragons) vs. Skid (Spooky Month)

Boneyard (Dungeons & Dragons) vs. Lord Hater (Wonder Over Yonder)

Necrodeus (Kirby Mass Attack) vs. Jack Skellington (The Nightmare Before Christmas)

Skelly (Hades) vs. Nagash (Warhammer Fantasy Battle)

Lady Bone Demon (Lego Monkie Kid) vs. Dry Bowser (Mario)

King (The Owl House) vs. Dry Bones (Mario)

Dyre Ode/Dyre Owed (Friends at the Table) vs. The Children of the Hydra's Teeth (Jason and the Argonauts (1963))

Qiu Congxue (Devil Venerable Also Wants to Know) vs. Death (The Arcana)

Kimimaro Kaguya (Naruto) vs. Gold Skull (The Sexy Brutale)

Death the Kid (Soul Eater) vs. Keyes (Fairy Tail)

Skull Knight (Berserk) vs. Director Bones (DC Comics) Bone (One Punch Man)

Lord Death Man (DC Comics) vs. Mister Bones (DC Comics)

Death (Horrible Histories) vs. Ebisu (Dorohedoro)

Skeleton (I Spy Spooky Mansion) vs. Skullomania/Saburo Nishikoyama (Street Fighter EX)

Skull Man (Mega Man) vs. SkullMan.exe (Mega Man)

A Real Magic Skeleton (OK K.O.! Let's Be Heroes) vs. Skully (Scary Godmother)

Marquis (Parahumans) vs. Morgo (Little Misfortune)

Señor Huseo (Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) vs. Brian Laborn/Grue (Parahumans)

Grim (The Grim Adventures) vs. Pluto (Library of Ruina)

Queen Rohaan (Watermelon) vs. Kamen Raider Genm/Kuroto Dan (Kamen Rider Ex-Aid)

Fone Bone (Bone) vs. Smiley Bone (Bone) vs. Phonciple P. "Phoney" Bone (Bone)

[juliedrawz]

21 y. old Coco test 🎀

I'm testing out my headcanon for young Coco.

Since we saw that she's got the exact same markings on her skull as her father, I assume, that Coco was the spitting image of Héctor. Which makes sense. First born daughters most of the time look like the femal vers. of their dads. But still there's 50% of the mother and it goes somewhere 😉

What do you think of this design?

Anyway, I will def. draw her again. With different expressions. And explore which traits she got from each parent.