#un poco loco is a cruz song

[theribbajack]

[shows up a year late with Starbucks] so uh. Encanto overall was pretty mid-tier for me, but I would die for Tio Bruno. One of little Mirabel and Camilo's favorite songs is Un Poco Loco, written by the great Ernesto de la Cruz!

[pencopanko]

La Revolución de la Familia Rivera (A Revolutionary Girl Utena-inspired Coco AU)

Summary: Future matriarch Rosa Rivera and her brother Abel are tasked to find their missing musician cousin Miguel and bring him home before music fully corrupts him. But it's easier said than done when it turns out that: 1. Miguel has not aged in four years; 2. Nobody can leave Escuela de la Cruz; and 3. They have found themselves at the center of a family mystery that has lasted for one hundred years. Fortunately, they have their ancestors to guide them, including Mamá Imelda herself! And that one lanky ghost named Héctor who always follows Miguel around.

Stuck in what seems to be some sort of pocket dimension, Rosa and her cousins must defeat a number of duelists in order to solve their family mystery, including de la Cruz's snarky great-great-grandson, Marco. Gifted with Blessings (enchanted weapons) from their ancestors, hopefully they can all break the curse... and trigger a... "Revolution"? Whatever that may be. (Cross-posted from AO3)

PRÓLOGO

Long ago, in a town called Santa Cecilia, lived a family of three. The papá was a musician who dreamed of playing for the world, while the mamá was an aspiring shoemaker who loved music just as much as her husband. They had a small daughter together, and the three of them would sing, dance, and count their blessings.

One day, the papá left home with his guitar. And never returned.

Outraged and heartbroken by his disappearance, the mamá banned music from her family. Nobody was allowed to play music, listen to music, or even hum a single note. She also forbade her family members from even uttering the name of her husband. She considered him dead, and she put up their family photo on their family’s ofrenda with his head torn off. Nobody was to remember him. Ever.

The mamá did not have time to cry, however. She rolled up her sleeves and focused on her shoemaking business, turning it into a family affair. She taught her brothers, then her daughter, then her son-in-law, and then her grandchildren. The business grew and grew, and they became known for making the best shoes in town.

Music had torn the family apart, but shoes put them all together.

That is the legacy of Imelda Rivera. Mother, grandmother, shoemaker.

Music shall never enter our family again, she had decided. But was that really such a good idea?

---

30 de diciembre, 1942. Ciudad de México.

It was a night to remember.

After the 21st anniversary of the establishment of Escuela de la Cruz (or De La Cruz Academy, if you are not a native Hispanic), the most famous musician in Mexican history and the namesake of the school himself, Ernesto de la Cruz performed his biggest hits for his beloved students and fans alike. He opened with “El Mundo es mi Familia”, made the crowd clap and sing along with his upbeat songs like "Un poco loco", stunned the audience and even the stage crew with his ballads, and ending with arguably his biggest hit: “Requérdame”.

As Ernesto went up the escalator all the way to the top of the stage just below the bell, everything was going well. The fireworks were shot at the correct time, the dancers were on beat, Ernesto was singing with his powerful vocals, and the crowd was pleased. The skull guitar was shining and reflecting the lights, as if it was celebrating along. Just before he was about to belt out his final note, Ernesto handed over the guitar to a stage crew, as rehearsed.

Unbeknownst to most, except for a small number of people behind the stage, one of the staff was leaning on a lever that controlled the bell. Perhaps it was a slip of the body, or perhaps he was leaning too much on the lever, but it all happened so quickly that some were convinced it was almost as if the musician was somehow cursed.

30 de diciembre, 1942. Ciudad de México.

Ernesto de la Cruz was crushed by a giant bell. There was silence followed by screams of terror and panic. The screaming only got worse when suddenly the concert hall turned dark before anyone could do anything. People were bumping against each other and against furniture, tripping over cables, and the students were rushed out of the arena back to the Academy.

After a staff member was able to turn the lights back on, somehow things took a sharp turn to the mysterious. There was indeed debris atop the escalator where the bell was dropped, but there was no bell. And the oddest thing of all: Ernesto de la Cruz’s dead body was nowhere to be found. Yes, there was blood, but other than that and some tattered fabric, he was nowhere to be seen. The skull guitar had also disappeared.

30 de diciembre, 1942. Ciudad de México.

It was a night to remember. For better or for worse.

---

1 de noviembre, 2017. Santa Cecilia.

Not so long ago, there was a young boy. He came from a family of shoemakers who hated music. For as long as he could remember, music was banned from entering the family. Not a whistle, not a tune, not a pluck of a guitar, not a finger tap, not even a hum. His grandmother would even yell at passerby’s who sang outside of their home.

And yet, out of everyone in his family, he was the one who fell in love with the forbidden art. He knew that his family loved him and that he loved them in return, but he too knew that he was different from the rest of them. His love for music was strong enough to the point of creation. He would record himself secretly playing music up in the hidden attic. He would write songs that he would hide in-between his books and other personal belongings in his room and in the attic as well. He even managed to created his own functioning guitar from a broken one he found amongst a pile of trash. All of this he kept a secret, except from his great-grandmother.

And up there in the same attic was also where he kept his stash of Ernesto de la Cruz memorabilia. De La Cruz was his idol, his mentor, his hero. If the boy were a rat in Paris, De La Cruz would be the imaginary chef guiding him everywhere he went. It was through his music and films that the young boy would come to love music himself. Ernesto de la Cruz came from Santa Cecilia, just like he did. He played in the plaza when he was young, just like how the boy wished he could do. He wished to do what his idol did: to seize his moment and play for the world.

Then, on a fateful Día de Los Muertos, the Day of The Dead, he found an opening. Up on top of his family ofrenda was a photo of his great-great grandmother, her daughter (the boy’s great-grandmother as a child), and an unknown man whose head was ripped off of the photo. The family only knew him as their great-great-grandfather, El Músico. The Musician. The man who left his family for music. A Xolo dog whom the boy liked to play with accidentally made the photo fall from the ofrenda, revealing a folded over portion of the photo.

It was De La Cruz’s guitar. A pristine white guitar, as if made out of marble, with a skull headstock and markings at the bottom of its body. There was no other guitar like it! He couldn’t believe it! Ernesto de la Cruz was his great-great-grandfather! With this revelation, he announced to his family that he would become a musician. Alas, his dream was rejected and his guitar was destroyed.

Heartbroken, with only his loyal Xolo at his side and the family photo in his clutch, he ran into the night.

---

1 de noviembre, 2021. Santa Cecilia.

Four years has passed since. Miguel Rivera has yet to come home.

[themusicofthespheres]

Un poco loco is about coco

[zoemonster200]

Coco Spoiler and cute thing I thought of!

Cutest idea about Coco. So Ernesto stole all of Hector’s songs and made them hits. At the competition everyone is singing songs “written” by Ernesto, so Miguel and Hector choose Un Poco Loco. I’m listening to the lyrics and you can’t convince me otherwise that Hector wrote that song for Imelda.

[ryawinters]

So I just watched Coco again

Damn it. It keeps getting me.

When Miguel narrates Imelda’s story when I know why her husband never returned.

Watching Coco call for her dad upon seeing the picture without knowing just how much he loves her.

Watching Hector try (and fail) to cross the bridge, all while knowing that it is his last day.

When Hector applies make-up on Miguel and realising that he probably did this for Coco as a kid.

When Cheech fades away from existence and we know that Hector has known for a long time that his own end is near. AND THE SHOT WITH THE GLASS LIKE WHAT THE HELL PIXAR

When Hector and Miguel sing Un Poco Loco and Imelda arrives on the scene and promptly disappears and realising that she would have recognized both the song and the singer.

When they fight and Miguel just casually tosses Hector’s photo away leaving him scrambling to get it back.

When Ernesto and Hector meet again. THAT ENTIRE SCENE. I knew what was going to happen. And it still hit me hard. Watching Hector feel homesick all while knowing he doesn’t get to see his daughter for nearly a century. Like just imagine. Dude wants to go back to his wife and daughter cause he misses them. Gets murdered for that choice and doesn’t even get to see them for decades following which his wife shuns him.

The cenote scene. So sweet and utterly heartbreaking. And the first time we see Alive!Hector interacting with someone who genuinely loves him and will keep loving him for nearly a century until they can see each other again.

ALSO I JUST REALISED REMEMBER ME ISN’T JUST A LULLABY? LIKE DID HECTOR THINK COCO WOULD FORGET HIM IF HE DIDN’T GIVE HER A SONG TO REMEMBER HIM WITH?? (IGNORING THE FACT THAT IT NEARLY DID HAPPEN) LIKE IT IS LITERALLY A SONG ASKING HER TO REMEMBER HIM WHILE HE IS AWAY, KNOWING SHE IS IN HIS HEART LIKE AWWW

And of course, de la Cruz ruined it.

Imelda not being able to immediately forgive Hector is more understandable now than it was when I first watched it. She has been holding a grudge for a long time. It is not easy to let go of that. Added to the fact that she would have struggled a lot as a single mom too. She is so awesome.

La Llorona. Or the time it finally hit Imelda how much her husband would have loved to be by her side. It doesn’t fix things immediately, but puts them on the path of doing so. She was facing the world alone back then, but the fact that he didn’t mean to leave seems to start sinking in.

Ernesto throwing Miguel off the building just solidified his fate, didn’t it?

When Hector and Imelda give Miguel their blessing as Hector is fading into oblivion.

And of course, the beauty that is Coco remembering her Papa and literally everyone else. (Her remembering Elena after not recognizing her earlier is also so sweet)

PROUD CORAZON. HECTOR AND COCO. HAVE GIVEN EACH OTHER A BIG HUG. JUST LIKE THEY ALWAYS WANTED TO. I AM GOING TO DIE.

This movie gave me the feels the first time I watched it. And each time I watched it again, I keep learning more things, finding more tragic details. Like how Hector was so stupidly young. 

Anyway. Those were my thoughts.

[chispas-and-broken-bindings]

4, 14, 24, 34, 44, 54, 64, 74, 84, 94!

(ALSO SORRY FOR UNFOLLOWING YOU FOR TWO SECONDS I CLICKED WRONG AT FIRST 😭😭😭)

😂 No worries! It's happened to me! It's way to easy to accidentally unfollow people on here!

4. If We Were Vampires - Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit

14. Things Have Changed - Bob Dylan

24. Travelin' Prayer - Dolly Parton

34. September Song - Agnes Obel

44. (I've Got A) Golden Ticket - From "Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory" Soundtrack <- the Mensch really liked that movie

54. Pure Imagination - From "Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory" Soundtracky <- See, I told you

64. Remember Me (Ernesto de la Cruz) - Benjamin Bratt

74. Nothing Sacred, All Things Wild - Kevin Morby

84. Un Poco Loco - Anthony Gonzalez, Gael Garcia Bernal

94. Dot - Chilly Gonzalez

Thanks or the ask @librarian-witchling! Sharing Spotify with a five-year old always makes for a very amusing Spotify Wrapped. 😅

[markwatnae]

my favorite things in Coco

- Papa Julio pulling his head down into his rib cage and shirt

- Imelda and the Devil Box

- Dante

- Miguel and Hector do the same, shy arm grab thing from the very beginning

- “They go to drink from the milk of their mother, who is a cactus, but who is also me.”

- “Chamaco.”

- “It’s a Rivera boot.” “Size seven.” “And a half.” “Pronated.” “Miguel.”

- Hector’s broken rib, arm, and leg and his janky walk because he’s had a hard life

- “Like the time you promised to bring back my van or my mini fridge or my lasso or my femur? Where’s my femur?”

- Hector changing the dirty lyrics in a drinking song because Migel is listening

- the shot glass Hector drinks out of in Chicharron’s bungalow looks like the one de la Cruz gives him

- Los Chachalacos

- Hector’s grin and thumbs up from the sidelines before Miguel performs

- all of “Un Poco Loco”

- “Hey, you did good. I’m proud of you.”

- the skeletal anatomy is good especially the feet; that calcaneus is on point

- Dante tries to take Miguel back to Hector because he knows

- de la Cruz’s Chihuahua alebrijes

- “Miguel can put my photo but. I can cross the bridge. I can see my girl.”

- the entire de la Cruz twist oh my god

- Hector’s pink charro suit

- Miguel and Hector realizing they’re family *endless tears*

- Hector talking about “Remember Me” *endless tears*

- Hector leaning down and Coco putting her hands on his face, his freckles, the mole he and Miguel have in the same place

- “I’m proud we’re family.”

- “That’s for murdering the love of my life!” “I’m the love of your life?” “I don’t know I’m still angry at you.”

- Hector playing for Imelda

- de la Cruz squealing in pain but it sounds like a grito

- the dies ire when Pepita stalks out on stage

- Miguel’s skin turning progressively more transparent as the sun rises

- Hector putting his hand on Miguel’s cheek even while he’s in pain (DON’T LOOK AT ME)

- Coco’s squinty smile when they finish singing the song

- WHEN SHE PULLS OUT THE PHOTO

- the little guitar and the boot on the top of the ofrenda

- Hector’s worried expression as the machine searched for this photo

- Hector’s face markings seem much more vibrant

- seeing Hector’s jacket fixed into a vest and his pants mended

- Hector doesn’t wear shoes for the entire movie until the One Year Later after he’s been welcomed back into the family; reblog if you cry every time

- when Hector takes a copy of his guitar and plays with Miguel

- “Proud Corazon” is my favorite song on the soundtrack

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Here’s my next entry for @badthingshappenbingo! Just one prompt left after this!

I AM NO LONGER ACCEPTING PROMPTS! The single-bone marks on the card indicate which prompts I have received and am going to write, and I finally have prompts that will earn me a bingo once they’ve been posted (but they’re not posted yet)!

This fic has also been posted to FFN and AO3, so you can check it out on my Assortment of Broken Bones collection on there if you like!

This prompt was suggested by @actingwithportals! I went with a slightly different interpretation, since I don’t really want to hurt Miguel. XD; Hope you enjoy!

Prompt: Outnumbered in a Fight Characters: Miguel, Abel, Abuelita (post-movie, pre-epilogue)

---~~~---

"Abel?"

Miguel's cousin looked up from his textbook—he was studying for a big test, and Miguel hated to bother him, but he was pretty sure this was going to drive him crazy if he didn't ask for help. "Um... could you... help me with a computer thing?"

Abel made a face, tossing his textbook across the table. "Sure. Can't be worse than studying for history, I guess."

Grinning, Miguel hurried off to the living room where an old computer sat in the corner, a pair of more modern headphones hooked up to it. The latter was a very recent addition, purchased shortly after the music ban was lifted. Before then, their computer had no sound at all—the speakers had immediately been tossed as soon as they'd acquired it. Now that it was equipped with headphones, many of the Riveras had been taking advantage of it... which was the problem.

"Look at this," Miguel said, waving a hand at the monitor as he scrolled through Youtube.

Abel squinted at the monitor. "Okay... What am I looking at?"

"Look, it's all history videos... I think those are from Papá, and... and a few music things I like, but there's also..." Miguel made a face. "Makeup tutorials." He scrolled past several recommendations with particularly atrocious thumbnails—clearly things recommended to their Tía Gloria.

"Huh. So...?"

"Could you... show me how to sign up? So it can recommend me the things I want? I think I'm gonna go crazy if I have to see another makeup tutorial."

"That's all?" Laughing, Abel gently shoved Miguel away from the computer and took a seat. "Sure, if that's what you want. But uh..." He glanced around the family room—no one else was there at the moment. "Don't let anyone know I did this for you, all right? You're kinda slightly too young to sign up."

"Pff, just by a month," Miguel argued.

With that settled, he watched as Abel guided him through making an email address (Miguel chose the name "GuitarraYZapatos05"), and, through there, set him up with an account. "And... there," Abel said, slipping off the stool. "You're all done. Just log off whenever you're done."

"¡Gracias!" Miguel slid back onto the stool, and Abel left him to browse the site.

Eagerly he put the headphones on and typed a song into the search bar—he'd known how to navigate the website for some time now, even before the ban had lifted, thanks to his friends showing him videos on occasion when he visited their houses. It was a lot nicer to be able to do it whenever he wanted—looking up songs he'd heard in the plaza and watching videos of people playing them. It was a great way to learn to play the songs, since he'd taught himself to do it by sight. Not to mention, he was discovering a lot of new songs this way (though he sheepishly had to skip over songs every so often—ones he was pretty sure if Abuelita ever heard the lyrics to, she would re-ban music... or at least computers, anyway).

For a good hour or so Miguel listened to different songs, at first paying attention to the videos, and then simply losing himself to the music, shutting his eyes and letting the next videos autoplay. This worked out fine for a while, but then...

"What color is the sky, ay mi amor, ay mi amor!"

Miguel jumped back, nearly tipping backwards off his stool, headphones going askew as his heart hammered in his chest. Even then, he could still hear the familiar voice, and the face on the screen was...

It was a friendly looking face, singing on a stage in front of many adoring fans. Occasionally the man would stoop down to sing a particular line to a girl in the audience, who would swoon over him as he winked. But the last time Miguel saw that face, saw that person, he hadn't looked nearly so friendly.

You're not going anywhere!

He could still feel himself held up by the front of his shirt, yanked closer as the eyes of the man—the one who had once been his hero—glared poison into him.

I am the one who is willing to do what it takes to seize my moment... whatever it takes.

"The loco that you make me, it is just un poco crazy!"

The fact that both the terrifying skeleton in his memory and the friendly-looking man in the video were the same person made Miguel feel sick, panicked, and very, very angry. Frantically he clicked several times on the screen to get the video to pause, and scrolled away so he didn't have to look at the man's face anymore. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, shuddering, wishing he could make the memory go away. If anyone deserved to be forgotten, it was Ernesto de la Cruz.

Once the panicked pounding of his heart finally calmed, he looked back at the screen. At first he'd thought that he should sign off for now—that was certainly enough videos for the day, and he felt like playing the real versions of his Papá Héctor's songs so he could get Ernesto's voice out of his head. But then something caught his eye, something he hadn't been paying attention to until now:

OMG, I love Ernesto! he's so flirty here lol

73 people got a bell dropped on their head

this is my favorite DLC song! he has so many good ones though, what a legend

I still have this one on a record. Ernesto himself signed the sleeve! It's my prized possession.

Comments—hundreds of comments, nearly all of them praising Ernesto for his looks, for what a great person he was, for "his" songwriting talent. Miguel felt his face flush in anger as he read more and more of them, all of these people who thought that Ernesto was the songwriting genius, and not his Papá Héctor...!

A part of him recalled that it had only been a month since Dia de Muertos, and the word hadn't gotten out to everyone yet, but it didn't make him feel any less angry. Seeing all of these people praise the man who had killed his great-great-grandfather and then tried to kill him not once, but twice was unbearable.

Unable to stand all the positive comments directed at this man, Miguel quickly found where he could leave a comment of his own, and began typing (a slow process with one finger—he hadn't learned to type properly yet):

Ernesto is the worst musician!! He stole all his songs! Theyre not his! Hes not a real musician!!!

Still fuming, he hit the reply button, and sat back on his stool. One comment probably wouldn't do a whole lot against the hundreds of people fawning over Ernesto here, but he'd thought it might make him feel better to say something.

A notification popped up at the bottom of his screen—someone had... replied to his comment?

Lol, what? Chill out. I'm sorry you don't like the greatest musician of all time.

What? No, that wasn't...! Frustrated, Miguel typed up another reply: Hes not!!! Hes a fraud!!! Hes not a real musician at all!

To his surprise, even more comments came in, this time from several people within moments of each other:

sure, Ernesto is a fraud, just like Elvis, right?

you!!! need to use more!!!! exclamation points!!!!!!

lmfao did you create this account just to troll a DLC video uploaded 7 years ago?

Great, now everyone was making fun of him... but it wasn't funny—Ernesto really did steal all of his songs, and... He shook his head—this wasn't fair. He typed up another reply to the thread (making sure to use fewer exclamation points, if they were going to make fun of him for it): Im telling the truth! He stole all his music from my greatgreat grandpa. He wrote all the songs Ernesto sang including this one.

OMG. OMGGGGG.

no actually dcl is my great great uncle and he told me hmself he wrote all these songs and that if I ever met youtube user ""guitarrayzapatos05" i should tell him that he screwed ur mom

Guys I think this is a kid......

Geez I always hear people say they're related to DLC (wouldn't be surprised, the man supposedly slept around like a rabbit) but this is the first I've heard someone say he stole from their relative. We've got a new nutjob conspiracy theory, fellas.

Adsfjsdflasjfsda;lfjlsajslfdjlds;adj

Miguel wasn't entirely sure what some of this stuff meant, but he did know all these people were mocking him, and with every new reply he felt the anger build in his chest, though his cheeks also felt hot with embarrassment—why was everyone ganging up on him like this? Your all making fun of me! But Im telling the truth!! Ernesto is a bad person and a bad musician! He really did steal from my greatgerat Grandpa!!

He stole from my greatgerat Grandpa too.

Lol how long do you plan to keep this up kid?

Listen, if DLC really did steal his music, we would have heard about it by now. He died almost a century ago. You don't think people haven't looked into this?

he ded 75 years ago moron

omg do u ever shut up

At least one person was being civil with him, but even then they were wrong. Still, Miguel had no idea what to say—his family was still fighting to get this case to the news, but with Mamá Coco having recently passed and his baby sister nearly here, they hadn't had a lot of time to work on it. But maybe he could bring something else up. He typed as fast as he could, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes:

I know he stole it! I found out when I went to the Land of the Dea—

The screen went dark.

Miguel sat there for a moment, stunned, before he heard a slobbery chomping noise coming from beneath the desk. Looking down, he spotted a familiar tail poking out near his stool. "Dante!" he cried, hopping down to yank the dog away.

As he suspected, the power cord was in the dog's mouth, and he was chewing on it lazily.

He was normally used to Dante getting in the way of things, but he felt angrier than normal at the dog. "No! No! Bad dog!" he cried, and swatted Dante on the nose.

The dog whined, immediately dropping the cord and squirming away from Miguel's grasp.

"S-stupid dog, wha'd you do that for? I was just trying to tell them about—!"

"What's going on in here?"

Both Miguel and Dante turned around to see Abuelita hurrying into the room. "I-it's nothing, Abuelita," Miguel said, and frantically wiped at his face.

Abuelita crossed her arms, looking from Miguel, to Dante, to the computer. "Nothing, huh! Is that computer box giving you trouble?"

"I—no, it's... it's not that..." He winced as Dante licked at his face and pushed him away.

"Don't give me that. It must be something, if it's got you so upset."

Abel's voice came from the hallway: "Ummm... did something happen?" Stepping into the room, he blinked at the monitor. "Huh, why's it—WOAH!" Quickly he got down on his hands and knees, grabbing the partially-chewed power cord and plugging it back in. Hitting the "on" button on the machine, he heaved a sigh of relief when the computer began to boot up again. "Geez, I thought you'd broken it."

"Oh, is that all?" Abuelita chuckled. "See, it's fine, mijo."

Dante looked up at the computer and barked at it, and Miguel frowned, using the stool to push himself back up to his feet. He rubbed the heel of his hand into his eyes. "Yeah, I... guess."

"Wait... what did you do on there?" Abel asked, suddenly worried. He quickly glanced from Abuelita and back to Miguel, biting his lip.

Sighing, Miguel, wrapped his arms around himself. "I just... saw some dumb people talking... about de la Cruz," he mumbled.

"Ugh, that man?" Abuelita said, shaking her head. Miguel wondered if she realized she said it in the exact same way she used to refer to Papá Héctor.

"People talking about... oooh, you read the comments, didn't you?" Abel asked, and laughed. "Never read the comments, Miguel!"

Feeling his chest constrict, Miguel balled his hands into fists and held them at his side, glaring at his primo. "It's not that! They were—they were talking about how great de la Cruz was, and—and when I told them he wasn't great, he was a thief, they... they just made fun of me!"

"¡¿Qué?!" Abuelita shouted, then shot an accusatory glare at the monitor. "I will not have people mocking my grandson! Where are they?"

"No, no, Abuelita, it's not like that." For a moment it looked like Abel would laugh again, but he saw how serious Miguel was about this, and frowned. "Well... they don't know yet, Miguel."

"But I tried to tell them!" Miguel swung out his hands, and Dante whimpered, butting his head against Miguel's leg. "I—I tried to tell them that they were wrong, but they just... kept making fun of me. And there were so many of them! I just..." Finally he brought his arms down, grasping his right wrist in his left hand and staring down at the floor. "I just felt like I was all alone."

Feeling his Abuelita's arm wrap around his shoulders, Miguel looked up to see her looking at him seriously. "You're not alone, mijo," she said. "Every single one of us here in this family are standing right behind you. We know the truth about Papá Héctor and that man now, and we won't stop fighting until the whole world knows."

"Y... you mean it?" he asked, hope creeping into his heart again.

"Absolutely. He is family, and we won't give up on him."

A huge smile spread across his face as he wrapped both arms around his abuelita, hugging her. "Gracias, Abuelita."

Laughing, Abuelita returned his hug with a bone-crushing one of her own, squeezing around his back until he was left gasping for air. "Now go have fun, mijo, and don't worry about what the people on that computer box say. They'll understand soon enough!" With that, she happily walked back toward the kitchen to start on dinner, leaving Miguel and his cousin alone.

Abel shifted on his feet, glancing from the computer to Miguel before giving an awkward laugh. "I, uh... know we went through the trouble of setting up a Youtube account for you, but uh... maybe you should stick to Spotify."

[lunaamatista]

References to Mexican Culture in Coco

By now, you’ve probably heard Coco is one of the most well researched films about Mexico and its culture. There are many small details that make it feel like Mexico: the stone roads in a small town, the traditional embroidery patterns in the shirts of Miguel’s female relatives, an uncle wearing a soccer team shirt, even a bowl of limes in a stand of aguas frescas. Of course, the looks of papel picado, day of the dead altars, and cemeteries are also well represented. The clothes of the relatives Miguel sees in the world of the dead is accurate to their eras. While these are a nice touch, you’re ultimately not missing out on anything by not spotting them, so in this post I wanted to talk about the more culturally based details that show the most research and you might not understand if you’re not very well acquainted with Mexican culture:

Names and pronouns

1. Coco

This one is the most straightforward, so let’s start with the name of the movie. While the protagonist is called Miguel, we soon learn that Coco is his great grandmother. “Coco” is what we call a woman called “Socorro” (lit. “help” - it’s a very traditional name that’s considered old fashioned).

The Rivera family calls her “Mamá Coco,” which means “Mother Coco.” They also call Imelda “Mamá Imelda,” and so on. Calling your grandparents “mamá” or “papá” instead of “abuelita” and “abuelito” is a thing you can do, though I can’t say how common it is.

In the Spanish version of the film, Miguel’s grandmother, Elena, talks to Mamá Coco with “usted” (I didn’t notice other instances, but they might be there). Spanish has a formal and an informal version of singular “you:” “usted” for formal, “tú” for informal. The verb conjugation also changes depending on which one you use. It is used differently all through the Spanish speaking world, but in Mexico, other than older people you respect (like a teacher), you can talk to older family members with “usted,” which means respect rather than the distance the formality might imply. Nowadays, it has fallen out of use: as someone born in the 90s, my grandparents talked to their parents almost exclusively with “usted;” out of my parents, my mother talked to hers with “usted” and my father with “tú;” I speak to my parents with “tú.” I have cousins on my mother’s side that talk to their parents with “usted,” but I would say that makes them a minority nowadays.

Traditions and beliefs

2. Crossing to the world of the dead on a bridge of marigolds

If you paid very close attention, you might have noticed two children scattering marigold petals on the ground and their mother telling them not to scatter them, but to make a bridge so the dead could cross over. It was easy to miss, but that’s actually something we believe!

There are several types of flowers you can place in a day of the dead altar, but the one you can’t do without is the yellow marigold. Its petals are scattered all around the altar, and at the very front, you’ll form a path surrounded with candles. The bright yellow will help the dead properly make their way to the altar, and the candles surrounding the path will light their way.

3. Crossing to the world of the dead with a xoloitzcuintli

Several prehispanic cultures had a similar concept of the underworld as many other cultures around the world, in which there was a river they had to cross to get there. For both the Aztecs/Mexicas and the Mayas, a xoloitzcuintli would guide their souls so they could cross the river safely and arrive to Mictlan (Mexicas) or Xibalba (Mayas). To achieve this, a xoloitzcuintli would be sacrificed and buried with its owner. Day of the dead altars can have a xoloitzcuintli figure so that the dead can make it back safely as well.

4. Being thrown into a cenote

My screenshot isn’t the best but at some point, Miguel is thrown into a big pit with water. That’s not just any random pit, but a cenote.

Cenotes are naturally ocurring sinkholes caused by the collapse of limestone. The word “cenote” has Maya etymology, as cenotes are commonly found in the Yucatán peninsula, where they (still!) live. In old times, they would sacrifice animals and people as tributes to the gods, and also throw ceramic objects and jewelry as part of the tribute.

5. Alebrijes

I left these for last because they don’t have any deep meaning. Alebrijes are colorful fantastic animals that a man called Pedro Linares saw in a fever dream. He was a skilled artisan, so when he woke up from his long sickness, he brought them to life in his art.

In Coco, alebrijes are spiritual guides, and while their designs are to the likes of the real alebrijes, the film actually gave them a more important role than they have for us.

Music

6. Genres of Mexican music

The songs in Coco all belong to genres we’ve grown up with, so even if someone isn’t that knowledgeable in music theory or genres, we could vaguely tell they sounded “Mexican” (some more than others). Someone who is more knowledgeable of music genres can help me out here, but I think:

- Remember Me / Recuérdame is a bolero ranchero.

- Much Needed Advice / Dueto a través del tiempo is a ranchera.

- Everyone Knows Juanita / Juanita is a corrido.

- Un Poco Loco is a son jarocho.

- The World Es Mi Familia / El mundo es mi familia is huapango inspired.

- Proud Corazón / El latido de mi corazón is a a son (son de mariachi? I’m most uncertain about this one).

6.5 Un Poco Loco

Un Poco Loco starts in English as

What color is the sky, ay mi amor, ay mi amor, You tell me that it’s red, ay mi amor, ay mi amor

And in Spanish as

Que el cielo no es azul, ay mi amor, ay mi amor, Es rojo dices tú, ay mi amor, ay mi amor

(You say the sky isn’t blue, oh my love, oh my love, It’s red, you say, oh my love, oh my love)

This might be a deliberate reference to a huapango called “Cielo rojo,” which says:

Mientras yo estoy dormido Sueño que vamos los dos muy juntos A un cielo azul Pero cuando despierto El cielo es rojo, me faltas tú

(As I sleep I dream of us close together Going towards a blue sky But when I wake up The sky red, I am missing you)

Within the universe of the movie, this would make it an anachronistic reference, though. Additionally, Cielo rojo is a song of loss and Un poco loco is about a woman who thinks very differently and likes to say everything backwards, and that makes him crazy (in a good way!). Hence, in English we’ve got her saying to put his shoes on his head instead of his feet, and in Spanish him saying she might think with her feet and also how she keeps playing with his thoughts. Cielo rojo is a pretty sad song.

7. La Llorona

And I purposefully left La Llorona out of that list (it’s originally a son istmeño, though).

There’s a full musical number in Spanish, which seems to have suprised some people. For those of us who watched Coco in Spanish, it wasn’t too hard to guess it was this one: La Llorona was likely left in Spanish because it’s a very old folk song, one of those that are so old it has no known author and there are many different versions of the lyrics.

“Llorona” just means “weeper,” which is not really as unusual of a word in Spanish as it is in English. It’s closer to “crybaby” in use. She’s also what we call a character in a Mexican folktale. If you’re curious, the version used in Coco says the following, with “llorona” being the singer herself:

Poor me, llorona, llorona dressed in sky blue Even if it costs me my life, llorona, I won’t stop loving you I climbed the highest pine tree to see if I could spot you Since the pine tree was so green, llorona, it cried upon seeing me cry

What is grief and what is not grief, llorona: it all is grief to me Yesterday, I was crying to see you, llorona; today, I’m crying because I saw you

Poor me, llorona, llorona dressed in sky blue Even if it costs me my life, llorona, I won’t stop loving you

Famous people

8. Ernesto de la Cruz

“Isn’t he an original charact-” NO LISTEN STAY WITH ME.

Remember how I said Remember Me is a bolero ranchero? Guess who we associate boleros rancheros with?

That would be Pedro Infante, who happens to have a strong resemblance to no other than Ernesto de la Cruz.

It’s probably not a coincidence at all, as later on we see Ernesto with Pedro Infante and Jorge Negrete at his party. Ernesto de la Cruz was explicitly stated to be inspired on both of them and another singer of the same genres, Vicente Fernández.

My parents left the movie saying “Pedro Infante didn’t deserve that burn,” lol.

9. Frida Kahlo (and Diego)

She does have a rather prominent role so she’s hard to miss. For those unaware, Frida is the artist who made the flaming papaya.

The themes in Frida’s are autobiographical, as she had a rather unusual life due to polio and injury. She painted herself and her suffering a lot. That might be why we get performances with many Fridas and things like a crying cactus that’s herself.

Bonus: her husband, Diego Rivera, is also in the same studio where we meet Frida. He was an important artist, specifically a muralist. 

10. Other Mexican celebrities

I already brought up Pedro Infante and Jorge Negrete as characters that appear right beside Ernesto de la Cruz.

But we also get to see a cameo of many other famous Mexican names in Ernesto’s studio! Excluding the people at the piano, from left to right:

Emiliano Zapata, a revolutionary; (my best guess is) Adela Velarde, another revolutionary; Ernesto and Miguel; (probably) Agustín Lara, composer and singer; (probably) Dolores del Río, actress (in Hollywood too!); Cantinflas, comedian and actor; Pedro Infante, singer and actor; María Félix, actress; El Santo, wrestler and actor; Jorge Negrete, singer and actor.

They kind of looked like this:

Another bonus: this gal looks like the calavera garbancera / the Catrina illustrated by José Guadalupe Posada.

There might be more things I’m missing or forgot; if that’s the case, feel free to let me know! You can also fix my music genres for me since that’s never been my forte.

I hope this was of interest to someone! 

[popipapepu]

UN POCO LOCO

Remember this scene? after watching it again, after Riveras and Pepita arrive at Plaza De la Cruz they immediately searching for Miguel. BUT IMELDA DID NOT APPEAR ON SCENE FOR ASKING PEOPLE WHERE IS MIGUEL. 

And UN POCO LOCO is song FOR IMELDA

And IMELDA SAYS THAT HECTOR IS LOVE OF HER LIFE

HOW COME SHE’S NOT REALIZE THAT HECTOR (LOVE OF HER LIFE) IS ON THE STAGE AND SINGING UN POCO LOCO??!!!

I WILL MAKE YOUR EYES HURTS TOO (Sorry not sorry for the colors) (And sorry for missing grammar i wish you can understand what i mean)

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[wee-chlo]

So I saw a post about Ernesto and it made me think and realize something.

Spoilers for Coco. Last chance, amigos.

Ernesto literally had no reason to try and kill Miguel or trap Hector or ANY OF IT.

Like, honestly. What danger did they pose? The Lands of the Living and the Dead adored him. The podunk town he was from had a beautiful monument, the Land of the Dead had a plaza named for him and he hosted huge parties with the best of the best. He was the crowning event on Dia de los Muertos. Hell, there were people who seemed to either not go see their families or cut their visits to the Land of the Living short to try and meet him or see his concerts.

So what threat did this family pose? Hector is a Forgotten conman with a rap sheet a century long from years of trying to cross the Marigold Bridge illegally. Miguel is a twelve-year-old. The Rivera clan appears to be respected (the novelization goes into more detail about how many people know them for their shoes and the quality thereof), but they’re still not about to pose a threat to De la Cruz, especially when the information they have is learned second-hand from the aforementioned conman.

And if Miguel went back to the Land of the Living? What then? I’m pretty sure the only reason they were able to make sure Hector got his due credit was because Coco kept the poems and letters and had the picture scrap, which Ernesto had no way of knowing about.

Which makes me think that as paranoid, self-obsessed and irrational as he was, there may have been something different at work.

Ernesto wanted Hector Forgotten. Not just dead, not just out of his way. Deader than dead. Completely gone. He was willing to go to insane, pointless lengths to do this: kill a child, his own great-great-grandchild as far as he knew, assault several people with the help of his guards, and I would go so far as to say he’s done similar things before, what with the speed that the guards ‘take care of’ troublesome ‘guests’ by flinging them into that sinkhole.

Ernesto is, without doubt, some kind of unstable. A narcissist certainly, maybe also a sociopath.  I’m not an expert. But as far as he’s concerned, Hector was his best friend. And maybe he was, but maybe Ernesto’s view of what a best friend is and what our view of what a best friend is are different things.

Ernesto canonically feeds on praise. His parties are towering, over the top ways for him to have hundreds of people fawn over him in person, and then immediately go outside and be showered with praise and love from thousands more. Hector and Ernesto grew up together from childhood, and a lot of people headcanon them having been orphans or otherwise reliant only on each other.

Hector is a very openly affectionate person. It’s one of his great qualities, how open and honest he is about who he cares about and how much he cares about them. He’s pretty shameless about it really. His interactions with Imelda make this rather obvious, but there’s also his interactions with Miguel, a kid he just met. He’s very physically affectionate, gently gripping him by the shoulders to reassure or lead him away from celebs, literally holding him in his arms during the Un Poco Loco number, holding him when he’s panicking after being thrown into the sinkhole. There’s an obvious instinctive paternal quality to him, but there’s also the fact that he’s just very open about his feelings.

Ernesto needed adulation. Needed affection, love, praise. Hector, for a long time, was how he got it. At first directly, with this younger boy looking up to him as a primo, and then indirectly, with his songs being the reason for the applause he received after shows.

This is just my personal view, but Hector seems like a very easy-going guy. Not a pushover by any means, but I’ve had this thought that being a father and being with Imelda made it easier for him to put his foot down. Sure, Imelda might have been the better disciplinarian, but a united front is important so he needed to be able to learn how to stand firm on things. And while I think he couldn’t be with Imelda if he wasn’t easy-going and willing to let her take the lead, I think if he wasn’t at least a little stubborn, Imelda would trample him underfoot. A man who can bend without breaking is necessary for someone like Imelda, but a man without a backbone isn’t someone she can respect.

So I imagine Hector and Ernesto being all the other had for years… and then Imelda comes into the picture. And Hector is smitten. Enamored. Maybe Ernesto doesn’t get it; the fiery, dominant Imelda isn’t to his tastes but sure, whatever. It’s not like anything’s going to happen. Except something DOES happen. Imelda falls for Hector, they get married, have Coco... And suddenly, Ernesto doesn’t have Hector all to himself. Maybe it’s a romantic thing, maybe it isn’t, but I think it definitely turns into a sort of “If I can’t have you…” Because Hector is all Ernesto had. He was it. He was the one who put Ernesto on a pedestal when they were kids and here, now, he’s the one who can put him on a pedestal for the world.

But then, in Mexico City, Hector puts his foot down. And while we know that he cares about Ernesto and doesn’t want to lose him as a friend, to Ernesto, it’s a betrayal. It’s a declaration that Imelda is more important and to someone like Ernesto…? No. That is not allowed.

Maybe some of the horrible things Ernesto did in the movie was out of fear for his reputation, but the more I think about it, the more I think it was spite. You left? Fine. Suffer.

Watch me ruin this song you wrote for your precious kid, who is apparently more important than me.

Want to go back to Imelda? Why would she want you? You left, and you think I’m about to go cover for you? Maybe if you’d been a better friend, I would have.

Oh, this is your great-great-grandson? That’s even better. Watch me chuck him over the side of this tower and then listen to me go back out there to the adoring crowd, singing your songs while you fade away.

[ravengrangergirl]

Coco Fanfiction Oneshot: Until You’re In My Arms Again

My first Coco fanfic! I’m planning on posting this on Archive and Fanfiction.net later. 

If there are cultural or language errors, please let me know so I can correct it! I’m using English punctuation overall, except for the accents. 

@calimori @allorana @quietdeerfan

Héctor

“Héctor,” Imelda scolded. “We need to get back, it’s almost sunrise!”

“Just a few more minutes, mi amor.” Héctor said, shouldering his guitar-offering, and heading towards Miguel’s room. He heard Imelda sigh behind him, but it was the sigh she gave when she was only pretending to be annoyed. He passed through Miguel’s bedroom door (Ay, he still wasn’t used to passing though things), Imelda and Coco following close behind. They all stood in the rather messy bedroom, the floor littered with scribbled out song lyrics, sheet music, and candy wrappers. Miguel’s guitar and his sombrero leaned against the bed, and the boy lay fast asleep. Imelda shook her head in exasperation at the mess, but her lips quirked up in a smile. Héctor looked fondly at Miguel. His little chamaco had grown a couple of inches in this last year. And his musical skills had developed wonderfully. Héctor chuckled to himself as he remembered the dying kitten noise that the boy had tried to pass for a grito. It was so good to see him again.

Miguel’s peaceful sleeping face suddenly changed, becoming more tense and worried. A little groan escaped him.

Héctor became worried. “Miguel?” He reached out and tried to touch his shoulder, but of course it passed right through him. Héctor scowled. He kept forgetting that the dead couldn’t touch the living. He had tried to hug Miguel at least twenty times that night, had tried to call out his name, only to be gently reminded by Imelda that Miguel couldn’t hear him.

Miguel tossed a bit from side to side, murmuring “No, no.” His murmurs became louder and a bit more distressed sounding.

A nightmare, then. Héctor groaned. Heaven knows that Miguel had enough cause for nightmares, after nearly being murdered at the hands of Ernesto last year.

Miguel

“MI PROUD CORAZON!!!” He sang, with the widest smile he ever had stretching across his face. The rest of his family clapped and even let out a few gritos. Socorro squealed with happiness from her mother’s arms. Miguel grinned at her. Socorro absolutely loved music. A lullaby could get her to stop crying, a fast mariachi song got her laughing, and “Remember Me” was used to put her to sleep at night. Miguel was planning to teach her how to play the guitar the second she was old enough.

“Miguel!”

That voice sounded familiar. Miguel turned around. “Héctor!” He cried out. The skeletal form of his great-great grandfather stood near the house that held the family ofrenda, leaning against the door.

“Hey, chamaco.” Héctor greeted him.

Miguel ran to grab his Papá Héctor in a hug…

And fell into a bridge of yellow flowers.

“Qué?” Miguel gasped. He struggled to push himself up, but his hands wouldn’t cooperate. He looked down, and almost shrieked when he found that they were bones.

Not again, not again…

He shrieked for real as his right arm fell off—an entirely skeletal arm lying amongst the marigold petals.

“Miguel!” Papa Héctor’s shout sounded farther away now.

“Héctor!” yelled Miguel. “Héctor! ¿Dónde estás?” He tried to pick up his arm with his other hand, but before he could, the arm on the ground suddenly changed into a guitar—one that was entirely made out of bones.

Miguel darted backwards, away from the guitar. What was happening? Where was Héctor? He managed to stand up.

“Miguel!”

Miguel whirled around to see Héctor standing behind him. “Héctor!”

Before Miguel could ask him what was going on, Héctor’s body began glowing. He fell into the petals, writhing in pain, the yellow light shining through his bones.

“No! Papa Héctor!”

Miguel bent down. Not again, no, he couldn’t lose him...But Héctor should be remembered now, shouldn’t he?

“We’re both out of time…” Héctor whispered.

“NO!” Miguel yelled.

Héctor’s legs began dissolving, but instead of changing into golden particles like the forgotten man had back in the Land of the Dead, the bones dissolved into a sort of gray dust that settled over the flowers. Héctor smiled. “Ashes to ashes…”

“NOOOOO!!!!” Miguel reached for Héctor, for some way to stop it, to stop his great-great grandfather from disintegrating before his eyes.

Before long, only Héctor’s head was left. Miguel could feel the tears sliding down his face.

“Lo siento, lo siento, Héctor.”

Héctor answered him, but his voice sounded gravellier, almost like a hiss. “Seize your moment…”

“Qué?” Miguel gasped.

He screamed again as Héctor’s face began morphing into the skeletal version of the face that he’d seen for years in his attic ofrenda. The man who had been his guitar teacher, who had inspired his great love for music, his idol.

The man who had murdered his great-great grandfather.

The man who had tried to murder him.

Ernesto de la Cruz’s head lay in a bed of marigold petals.

“Seize your moment…” Ernesto hissed again.

Then the head began to rise into the air as if the petals were pushing it up. The petals formed a humanoid shape under Ernesto, leaving him as a skeleton head with a body made of marigold petals. Ernesto made a grab for Miguel, easily lifting him up by his shirt collar.

Miguel kicked, trying desperately to get away. “Héctor! Imelda! Mamá! Papá! Ayúdame, ayúdame!!!”

Ernesto grinned. “I would move heaven and earth for you, Miguel…”

“NO!!!”

Ernesto walked to the edge of the bridge, carrying Miguel with him. “I hope you die very soon…” 

“Please, please.” Miguel sobbed.

“Adiós.” Ernesto said…

Then threw Miguel off the bridge.

Miguel fell.

He fell, twisting and turning and seeing nothing but emptiness and blackness beneath his feet, and then a stone floor rushing up to meet him…

He gasped, his eyes flying open. He sat bolt upright, then stared around him in confusion. He was in his bedroom…Miguel’s eyes flew down to his hands. He almost cried out in relief when he saw two hands, both covered in skin. He was alive.

His hands were shaking, however, and he felt something wet on his face. He angrily wiped the tears away. Just another nightmare…

He’d gotten a few nightmares over the year he’d been home from the Land of the Dead, but he hadn’t had one this bad in a while. He looked fearfully towards the door, but he didn’t hear any footsteps. Good. He hadn’t actually been screaming. But he couldn’t help feeling disappointed when no one came.

“You’re thirteen,” Miguel told himself angrily. “You’re too old to be running to Mamá and Papá for a nightmare.”

But when he thought about Héctor dissolving into ashes, and Ernesto…

Miguel curled up, trying to think of something, anything else to keep the terrible images away. 

Héctor

“M’ijo…” Héctor murmured brokenly. “M’ijo…”

Miguel was curled up on the bed, looking like he was trying not to sob.

Imelda and Coco gave Héctor anguished expressions, both feeling as trapped as he was. Their great-great grandson (or great-grandson, in Coco’s case) was in pain, was scared and sad, and they had no way to help him.

Héctor clenched his teeth. Ernesto, that dirty, filthy, terrible, murdering RAT . He had done this, had stripped away Miguel’s assurance of safety and innocence at the age of twelve, and it was only with Pepita’s help that Ernesto hadn’t actually managed to kill Miguel.

Miguel seemed to be losing the battle against tears. Héctor heard a sob.

He couldn’t stand it anymore. He walked through the bed (passing through it yet again, AY that was annoying) and reached out to Miguel. “Oh, chamaco…”

His arms, as predicted, passed right through Miguel, but Héctor didn’t let go. He held on to what felt like empty air, praying desperately for some way for Miguel to get some form of comfort from it.

He waited for Imelda to tell him how ridiculous he was being, that Miguel couldn’t actually feel him or see him. He started when a pair of skeletal arms was wrapped around himself and Miguel. He looked up to see Imelda holding on to him and the empty air that was Miguel. Then Coco’s arms joined theirs.

They hugged, trying to be there for their little boy, and gulped away the choking feeling of tears they could no longer shed. 

Miguel

Miguel shook with sobs, wishing desperately to go to someone but not allowing himself to do so. “Stop being dumb, stop being dumb…” 

A weird feeling tickled his arms and back. Miguel looked down, wondering if there was some sort of fly or mosquito that had landed on his arm. No.

The feeling got stronger and a bit warmer. It was strange, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was actually sort of…nice.

Although he couldn’t figure out why, Miguel found himself uncurling slightly, relaxing a bit.

The sobs began to slow down, and Miguel’s breathing became a bit more regular.

As he curled into the warm feeling, something tickled his mind as well. There was something familiar, a hint of a name that he couldn’t catch. His senses tingled slightly. 

He buried himself in the feeling, and the hint of something became an itch, so familiar…so familiar…

Snippets of scenes started to dance across his mind, all disconnected and jumbled.

Guitar…

Dancing on…a stage…

“Un Poco Loco!”

“Chamaco.”

Chamaco? Poco Loco?

“Papá…Héctor?” Miguel said, hesitantly, trying out the name as if it was a key he was sliding hesitantly into a lock. Apparently, it fit, because the warm feeling got even warmer as the tingling spread over his entire body, as if every side of him was been pricked with the pins and needles feeling that his feet sometimes got if he sat in one place for too long.

“Héctor…” Miguel breathed. Somehow, his Papa Héctor was here, in his room, so close to him it was like he was sitting right next to him. Or perhaps he was right next to him, and Miguel just couldn’t see him. More tears came to Miguel’s eyes, only this time they sprang from a different source than the fear.

“Papá Héctor, estás aquí!”

Other strands of memory tickled his mind, but these were not ones he shared with Papa Héctor. These ones carried a different sense about them. Héctor’s sense, or presence, had felt lighthearted, comical even, but strong and…determined. Sí. Just as he remembered his Papa Héctor being when he had met him in the Land of the Dead. This one felt harder, rather like his Abuelita. Strong down to the core, and…Miguel searched again for the word…and almost laughed as he came across it. Stubborn. Sí.

“I thought you hated music!”

“I loved it…”

“Llorona, llorona…” 

“Never forget how much your family loves you…”

“Mamá Imelda?” Miguel whispered. She was here too? That meant she was with Papá Héctor! They were together again!

Wait, did that mean…was…

More memories danced across Miguel’s mind, but these carried the sense of a will much gentler than Imelda’s, yet not as lighthearted as Héctor’s.

“Remember me, each time you hear a sad guitar…”

An orange slice tucked into a wrinkled hand.

“Papá was a musician. When I was a little girl, he and Mamá would sing such beautiful songs…”

His own sweet Mamá Coco, passed away only a few months ago.

They were all here. Together.

“Papá Héctor! Mamá Imelda! Mamá Coco!”

Impulsively, Miguel threw his arms out wide, trying to surround the feeling with his arms, wishing so desperately that he could hug them, that he could see them, hear them, hold them. But they were here, they were with him, they were together, and he could feel them. Any fear or sadness left over from the nightmare seemed to fade away at that moment, forgotten.

Héctor

Héctor held his eyes closed as he and his wife and daughter hugged—or tried to hug—Miguel. He wished so badly he could hold his great-great-grandson, that he could comfort him…help him.

He heard Miguel’s breathing begin to even a little, and the sobs slow. That was good. Miguel was calming down.

He opened his eyes to see that Miguel had snuggled up closer to the group hug, as if he could feel…

Stop it, Héctor!

Miguel’s tearstained face was currently crinkled into confusion, as if he had been called on in class and was desperately trying to remember the answer for the teacher. Héctor had known the feeling well when he had gone to school, usually because he had been too busy scribbling song ideas or staring out the window.

“Papá…Héctor…”

Héctor jumped, having an old Living impulse to choke in surprise. “Miguel?” he asked. Could he actually, finally see—

No. Miguel wasn’t looking at him, and he had shown no reaction to Héctor saying his name. Perhaps Miguel was simply thinking about Héctor, and had just happened to say his name out loud. But perhaps he could…maybe he could sense…

Miguel’s face broke into a smile as his face turned to Héctor’s direction. Miguel looked past him, but he was still facing him. “Papa Héctor, estás aquí!”

Héctor let out a spontaneous grito as he heard Imelda and Coco gasp in surprise. Miguel could feel them!

“Sí, sí, Miguel, estoy aquí, estoy aquí, m’ijo!”

His arms still failed to catch any sense of holding a living being, but he squeezed anyway. His boy, his chamaco, his great-great grandson, knew he was there!

Miguel’s smile faded into another look of concentration, as if he was reaching for a word of the tip of his tongue. “Mamá Imelda…” he finally whispered.

Héctor didn’t look up, but he could see Imelda’s shocked face with her gasp of surprise. Ah, Miguel sensed her, as well!

“Papá Héctor! Mamá Imelda! Mamá Coco!”

Imelda and Coco matched twin cries of joy with Héctor’s own.

Somehow, despite being solidly in the Living world and Héctor and Imelda and Coco being little better than shadows tiptoeing from the Land of the Dead, Miguel could feel them being there for him, holding him, loving him for all they were worth.

Miguel threw his arms open, and now he was the one trying to embrace them, trying to bridge the gap between worlds. Miguel’s left arm passed through Héctor’s shoulder, and his right arm through Imelda’s side, but it was close enough.

All of them held on a group hug, the one they never got together in the Land of the Dead, the one that was forbidden in the Land of the Living. But they all knew that each other was there, they were together, and that was enough.

They hugged like that for a long time, no one speaking.

Then Imelda broke the hug.

When Héctor looked up in surprise, her face was twisted with regret. “It is too close to sunrise. We’ll have to run as it is. Lo siento, mi amor, but we have to go.”

Héctor sighed. She was right, of course. As always. But he hated to leave Miguel. He wished he could stay here, in the living world, holding his boy, his chamaco.

But as Coco stood with her mother, Héctor knew he had to go.

Slowly, regretfully, he drew away from Miguel, away from the bed, and towards his wife and daughter.

Miguel seemed to sense this, since his arms fell back to his sides. The smile on his face faded, growing serious.

“I know,” he said, his face turning slightly away from them, towards the door. “You have to go. It’s probably close to sunrise.”

Even though Héctor knew it was pointless, he nodded. “Sí, chamaco. We have to go.”

“I hoped you liked the offerings. And the music. And you hoped you guys met mi hermanita. Her name is Socorro, you know.”

Héctor knew. He had heard the name at the celebration earlier, and had thought it perfect.

“Say hola to Julio and everyone for me, por favor?”

“We will.” Imelda answered.

As if he had heard her, Miguel smiled again, although a few tears were sliding down his cheeks again. He wiped them away. “I’ll see—you’ll be here next year, then.”

“Absolutely,” said Coco, smiling fondly at her great-grandson.

“I love you.”

Coco bent down and kissed his forehead several times. “Te quiero, Miguel.’

“Te quiero,” Imelda and Héctor echoed, giving one last empty-air hug to their great-great-grandson.

Miguel gave a shuddering sigh, then fell back against the pillows.

“Te quiero,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering.

Imelda passed through the door, grasping hands with Coco in preparation of the dash back to the bridge.

“Te quiero,” Miguel whispered one last time, his closing eyes missing the glimpse of yellow light that flashed near the door as Héctor stepped through, joining his wife and daughter on their journey back to the Land of the Dead. 

[lazykcdoodler]

Coco brainworm that won’t leave me alone

*spoilers, speculation and angst below*

Mama Imelda never hated music; just what it reminded her of and what it had done to her family. Maybe when Ernesto told her about the death of Hector, she’d resolved to put his picture on the ofrenda. She was hurt, and struggling- but she had loved him once. Coco loved him still.

Then one day, Ernesto’s first record hits the shelves of Santa Cecilia. Imelda picks one up, idly wondering what he’d come up with (he’d always been a deft guitarist, a decent singer- but composition had never been his strength.)

Her heart stops when she reads the song titles listed on the back.

These were Hector’s songs. She knew them by heart. He’d sung Un Poco Loco at their recepcion; she’d kissed him, then. Now she heard it from the mouth of every mariachi, and she feels cold.

Imelda doesn’t hate music. But in Santa Cecilia, de la Cruz is blasted from every corner, and her memories of her once loved husband sour. He left his family and died in a barrio miles from home, and shared private memories- precious memories- with his ambitious best friend, for the sake of fame and fortune.

(De la Cruz was a bit of a penjedo, but one she had grown up with. Hector’s best friend, Coco’s Tio Ernesto. The possibility of foul play never enters her mind.)

She first bans de la Cruz’s music from the house for Coco’s sake. If Un Poco Loco now makes her feel ill, Remember Me leaves her furious. Her daughter’s lullaby has become a bastardized love ballad, and Imelda refuses to let her hear it.

The record does well. Incredibly well. The town is so proud of its hometown hero. Imelda can’t get away from them- except in the privacy of her walls. Words like forgiveness and amends become anathema, as bitter proof of her husband’s betrayal and abandonment are sung from every corner and become woven into the national identity.

Imelda doesn’t hate music. She loved it before Hector, and she loved it after Hector. But as Ernesto de la Cruz becomes a household name in every house but hers, as thinking of his name and his fame mean thinking of Hector, who is and was music, even after his death, and the music lived on-

- she can’t think of music anymore. She won’t. She won’t let Coco think of it either.

When Dia del Muertos comes that year, Hector’s grave is cold and undecorated, his belongings sold and thrown away. His face is ripped from the family picture, carefully stored and hidden away by his little girl. His face is far from the ofrenda, and he stands on the other side of the bridge for the first of many cold and long decades to come.

The Rivera house is quiet. This year, Imelda is busy learning to make shoes in between moments of fond remembrance for everyone but her husband. She’ll give the day its proper attention later, but if she works hard enough now, she can drown out the sound of the mariachi outside.

The house stays quiet for years to come.

[anglosaxonbrat]

Coco’s Song

A “Coco” fanfiction

{set in the early days of Hector’s time in the Land of the Dead}

The first time he’d heard it was the worst.

He’d been walking through the plaza after yet another unsuccessful day at scraping up cash, Ricardo’s borrowed guitar bouncing sadly at his side. Ricardo would be angry with him, he knew. Not just because Hector had broken a string while strumming an exceptionally complicated riff, but because he didn’t know that Hector had borrowed his guitar in the first place.

Hector had already been feeling bad about that, for Ricardo was one of the only people left here who was willing to put up with him anymore. The number seemed to decrease every year since he’d arrived-- and now he’d gone and done this.

In fact, he was so caught up in practicing his apology speech (he’d been making so many these days that he was getting rather good at it. A charming smile, a slight tilt to the head. Admit what you had done and offer no excuses: “Yes, I borrowed your prized guitar without asking, and I apologize for that...”) that he hadn’t realized what he was hearing at first. He only knew that it was suddenly like he’d been caught up in a dream, the world going hazy around the edges like a photograph dipped in water, memories seeping through reality. Through everything, until all he could see was his Coco. Her beautiful little face, her big brown eyes full of adoration for him. For the man who--

“What?” He’d nearly dropped Ricardo’s guitar, but then he caught it and held it too tightly, his fingers squeezing the fretboard in a vise. Wildly, he searched for the source, and found it: A short, skeletal man in a nice white shirt and crisply pressed pants, standing near the center of the plaza.

“Remember me, though I have to travel far. Remember me when you hear a sad guitar. Know that I’m with you the only way that I can be…”

Tears came, hot and blinding. What a joke. What a joke those lyrics had been. He could have been with her all this time, if only--

“Hey! Hey, excuse me!” He called, but the man didn’t hear him. He continued to sing, his voice carrying loudly over the plaza.

“And until you’re in my arms again, remember me-eeeee!”

He wasn’t singing it right. It was too happy, too bouncy, like some gaudy romantic show tune. It was supposed to be quiet, bittersweet…sad even. The way he’d felt when he’d had to leave--

No. No, don’t think about that.

But the tears were still there, as hard as he was trying to blink them away.

The man had finished singing and was smiling winningly at his small audience, who politely clapped their approval. Hector was the only one distressed, the only one who knew this wasn’t right.

“Perdóname!” At last, he had captured the singer’s attention. The man turned his too-white grin upon him, which faltered at the sight of Hector’s expression. Hector could only guess how he looked, but he could hear the slight rattle of his hands quaking. “Señor, uh, wh-where did you hear that song?”

The man gave him a look of amused bewilderment, tucking his shining guitar under his arm. “Why, sir, it’s only Ernesto de la Cruz’s greatest work! You know of him, certainly?”

Oh, certainly. How could he not know of him? His still-living best friend, who had gotten famous off of his songs-- songs that Ernesto himself had supposedly written. Un Poco Loco, The World Es Mi Familia...

And now this one.

Shock and fury filled him in equal measure, rendering the man’s next words incomprehensible. As he continued gushing on and on about how he wished he could have met the great Ernesto de la Cruz before he’d died, Hector heard only white noise. White noise and…

“Papa!”

His rib cage rose and fell erratically, a mockery of staggered breathing. His hands had begun to shake so badly that the rattling sound was a steady backdrop against the man’s continued chatter.

“No.” He was so enraged that he didn’t even realize the words were coming out of his mouth. Ernesto had taken credit for his songs. Hector had known that for years now, through word-of-mouth from new arrivals. Known it and hated it; yet he’d borne it with the defeated understanding that no one would believe him if he tried to explain the truth. How could someone like him-- a poor, forgotten bum with no guitar of his own-- have written the most popular songs in Mexico?

But this, this was too much.

“Not that song.” He whispered, unaware that the man in front of him had stopped his egocentric prattling and was now staring at him in concern. “Not that song! That was hers! That was--”  

“Mi amigo, are you alright?”

Hector gasped, snapped out of his thoughts, and suddenly realized that he was the one with the audience now. The small crowd of skeletons who had been listening to the musician were fixated upon him with the hungry eagerness of dogs under a dinner table, cold smirks on their faces as they enjoyed their newfound entertainment. In another surge of misery and rage, he realized exactly what he looked like to these people: A blithering lunatic.

“Si. Fine.” He bit, forcing the false smile that had become his staple. “Thank you. I apologize for bothering you.”

“Not at all.” But there was an undertone of condescension that wasn’t lost on Hector, “I’m always happy to have people interested in my playing.”

Hector was already backing away, knowing the smile would only hold for so long. “Yes, of course. Gracias.”

As soon as he was out of view from those laughing, condescending eyes, he could no longer hold back the tears from his own.

Since that day, Remember Me had quickly become Ernesto’s theme song, each version bandied around by his fans more atrocious than the last. Yet perhaps it helped in a way that it had become so butchered. It hurt like a dagger in his nonexistent heart each time Hector heard the words, but if he’d been forced to hear them the way he’d originally intended the pain would have been too much to bear.

Ricardo had not been forgiving about the guitar, especially when Hector had admitted that he had no way to replace the string. His friend was almost as impoverished as he was, with only (ironically, Hector thought with a searing jealousy that left him ashamed with himself) his elderly, unwed daughter to leave him offerings each year. The older and more feeble she’d grown, the more the offerings had waned and the closer Ricardo grew to his Final Death. He had tongue-lashed Hector and punched him so hard in the face that a bottom tooth had popped out and been lost in the grooves of the street. Hector had not had the courage to seek him out since.

It had come at the perfect time, though, for he no longer felt like playing music.

Ricardo had been forgotten the same year Ernesto had entered the Land of the Dead. Hector had found it strangely fateful, especially since his former best friend had shown about the same amount of appreciation for him as Ricardo had in the end-- which was to say, none at all. Within a week of his arrival, Ernesto was already living the high life, rubbing elbows with the finest, and he seemed to have forgotten completely that he’d once had a friend named Hector Rivera who wrote all his hits.

Hector had tried to reach out to him several times. To ask him about the music, some tiny shred of hope lingering inside him that his old friend would listen to him, give him the credit in death that he’d deserved in life...

Explain why he’d taken Coco’s song.

It had never happened. Each time he tried to get close, bodyguards turned him away.

“But I was his friend! If you would just listen!” He’d pleaded time and time again.

“I’ve never heard of any Hector Rivera in his interviews.” One had said, spatting out his name like it tasted foul in his mouth. “You’d think he would have mentioned someone as important as you.”

The same laughing, condescending eyes. The same cold smirks.

At last, Hector had stopped trying, but Coco’s song never stopped playing. Year after year, version after version, now sometimes blaring from speakers in Ernesto’s polished voice. “Remember Me” had even been emblazoned on the sides of buildings, his handsome face painted beaming over it with pride. Funny, Hector had thought bitterly, as Ernesto never need worry about being forgotten.

He, on the other hand…

The first time he’d heard it had been the worst, but that didn’t mean it ever got any better.

[rachelbethhines]

Disney Discography 86

Coco

The Original Film

I haven’t seen this film yet so I can’t comment on it but here’s all the songs I could find. 

"Remember Me"- Benjamin Bratt

"Much Needed Advice"- Bratt & Antonio Sol

"Everyone Knows Juanita"- Gael García Bernal

"Un Poco Loco"- Bernal & Anthony Gonzalez

"Jálale (Instrumental)"- Mexican Institute of Sound

"The World Es Mi Familia"- Gonzalez & Sol

"Remember Me (Lullaby)"- Bernal, Gabriella Flores & Libertad García Fonzi

"La Llorona" - Sol & Alanna Ubach

"Remember Me (Reunion)"- Gonzalez & Ana Ofelia Murguía

"Proud Corazón"- Gonzalez

"Remember Me (Dúo)" - Natalia Lafourcade & Miguel

"Coco – Día de los Muertos Suite" - Michael Giacchino

Disney Released Remixes and Covers

 "Recuérdame (Interpretada por Ernesto De la Cruz)" - Marco Antonio Solís 

 "Dueto a Través del Tiempo" - Solís 

"Juanita" - García Bernal

"Un Poco Loco" - García Bernal & Luis Ángel Gómez Jaramillo 

 "El Mundo es mi Familia" - Gómez Jaramillo & Solís 

"Recuérdame (Arrullo)" - García Bernal & Lucy Hernández 

 "La Llorona" - Solís & Angélica Vale 

"Recuérdame (Reencuentro)" - Rocío Garcel & Gómez Jaramillo 

 "El Latido de mi Corazón" - Gómez Jaramillo 

"Recuérdame" - Carlos Rivera 

"El corrido de Miguel Rivera (Inspirado en "Coco")" Bronco 

"La bikina (Inspirado en "Coco")" Rubén Fuentes Karol Sevilla 

"Bésame mucho (Inspirado en "Coco")" Consuelo Velázquez Jorge Blanco 

"Un mundo raro (Inspirado en "Coco")" La Santa Cecilia 

"Recuérdame (Solo) (Inspirado en "Coco")" -  Lafourcade

"Lembra-te de Mim (Ernesto de la Cruz)" -  Mário Redondo

"Conselho Muito Necessário" -  Redondo

"Quem Não Conhece a Juanita?" -  Pedro Leitão

"Un Poco Loco" - Joao Pedro Gonçalves & Leitão

"O Mundo es Mi Família" - Gonçalves & Redondo

"Lembra-te de Mim (Canção de Embalar)" -  Leitão & Maria Galante 

"Lembra-te de Mim (Reunião)" - Gonçalves & Ermelinda Duarte

"Pulsar do Meu Corazón" - Gonçalves

[neolingual-blog]

Coco Songs in Dutch

Un Poco Loco:

Dutch: (x)

Flemish: (x)

The World Es Mi Familia - De Wereld Mi Familia:

Dutch: (x)

Flemish: (x)

Proud Corazón - Trotse Corazón:

Dutch: (x)

Flemish: (x) 

Everyone Knows Juanita - Iedereen Kent Juanita:

Dutch: (x)

Flemish: (x)

Diep In Je Hart:

Dutch: (x) 

Flemish: (x)

Remember Me - Vergeet Me Niet  ( Ver. Ernesto de la Cruz ):

Dutch: (x)

Flemish: (x) 

Remember Me (Lullaby) - Vergeet Me Niet (Slaapliedje):

Dutch: (x)

Flemish: (x) 

Remember Me (Reunion) - Vergeet Me Niet (Hereniging):

Dutch: (x)

Flemish: (x)