“You guys don’t understand. No me olvides, es un cortometraje que pretende resaltar una de las tradiciones mas importantes de México que es el Día de Muertos. When they were nearing the front of a line of Mariachi bands waiting for their chance to shine as they tested their instruments - about five performances away from taking the stage - Miguel’s phone began to vibrate. “Was that Coco?” Someone whispered, and Rosita started at the sudden appearance of Oscar and Felipe at her sides. Well, it turns out I really do care. “I live here now, Coco. “So,” Hector sat down in an armchair across from him, “do you think you’re up to telling me what happened?”. “I have to bring him back!”. “Look, if you want the apple that bad, I’ll pay for it, but I’m kind of in a hurry, so if you don’t mind…?” With a shout, Coco kicked off her shoe, hoping that it would somehow make him let her go. His heart couldn’t race in his chest. When events lead to him being unable to keep his promises, however, someone he left behind will do everything they can to find and bring him home. “I was due for a new one, anyway. “It’s one of the perks of having this job.” She paused on her way out of the room, looking thoughtful. And because Miguel had spent the last three years coming to terms with his untimely demise, he offered up a cliffnotes version. It seemed to get the message, too, because she stilled without complaint, though her bright brown eyes never left his. Lights and lanterns curled around the branches of the young birch trees lining the road as they streaked by. Once she was gone, Miguel settled back into the cushions with a sigh. Article de mimi Mimi. What you need is rest.”. It sounded perfectly tuned and cared for, a guitar played regularly and often. And a Happy New Year! It didn’t. as well as La Llorona est une chanson traditionnelle mexicaine d'auteur inconnu, inspirée de la légende de La Llorona.Bien que la légende trouve ses racines en Espagne, avant la colonisation de la future Amérique latine [1], la chanson semble dater seulement de la fin du XIX e siècle ou du début du XXème [réf. There was something about the width of him, the strength evident in his arms and torso, the pronounced chin poorly hidden beneath a patchy beard, that made Miguel think, for the first time in a long time, of Ernesto. Except it wasn’t. And in the instant that they made contact, an influx of jumbled information assaulted his senses, the first being a hard thump as his guitar was shoved against his chest, followed by a sensation of weightlessness as he stumbled and his feet left the sidewalk, followed by the terrible brightness of approaching headlights. Imelda gathered her in her arms one last time, whispered in her ear as she stroked her hair, “But don’t hurry to grow up, and don’t hurry to come back, mija. “Remember me, though I have to travel far. Since it was alphabetical, Alejandro’s name was near the top. Before they could squeeze through, however, she cried, “Wait!” And knowing that wouldn’t keep them for long, continued in a rush, “Are you related to Miguel Rivera?”, They froze, their eyes widening comically while they tried to process this new information. One of the ladies gasped when something rustled her gown,“Oh!” And a child rolled out, twisting around to look up at her with astonishment. Probably the strongest toddler in all of Santa Cecilia. ”, Sputtering, Miguel protested from his prone position, “I was going to give it back!”, She laughed, surprising him. It was up to her to let them in, but they had to be cleared. Moving only his eyes, he was able to see the border patrol who’d refused him three times now, except she’d taken her hair out of the stern bun she’d always worn it in. Standing up on her tippy-toes, Coco gazed up in awe at the white guitar with its splintered wood, cracked paint, and grinning skeleton handle. Coco turned to see that he was desperately trying not to cry. A wet cloth and his mother’s hand draped her brow, but her eyes remained stubbornly closed. Silently, he promised to tell her later, which she would hold him to, but first there was a tired child that needed to go home. Not to her. “We are all so proud of you, mijo.”, Coughing to hide the sudden lump in his throat, Miguel squeezed her back, noting inwardly that he was now several inches taller after his latest growth spurt, “I’ll only be gone for the night, Mamá. Everyone who entered it seemed to come out sadder than before, if that were possible, but most of all, she hated what it represented. The next time he woke up, he was lying in a bed beneath a ceiling painted in swirls of marigold yellow, rusty bronze, reddish orange, sea green, and variants of blue, like a sunrise above the ocean, and had absolutely no idea where he was. Dead to the world almost as soon as she closed her eyes. Next, he wandered to Frida’s, and was pleased to find she was setting up a routine with her dancers held by wires over a flaming papaya. I’ll ask Customs to inform me the second any become available to you.” With a wry smile, she rose to her feet, one of her hands finding a hair tie as she did so that the motion seemed inextricably tied to pulling her hair into a bun. No me olvides staringatstars. Wagging his tail, Dante sat up with a yip, which Miguel chose to interpret as an affirmative. Confusion came first from the cousins, followed by quiet denials. “Shall we, mijo?” And Miguel nodded, too tired to speak. “Muy guapo, eh?” Miguel gave a wet chuckle. And the weight in his arms vanished, but not for long, because he soon found himself being crushed in half a dozen other embraces. How could Miguel possibly look Mamá Imelda and Mamá Coco in the eyes when Hector’s sacrifice had so quickly come to naught? And though Miguel had accepted the news without prying further, it didn’t mean he’d given up. And-”, “Everyone,” Miguel reiterated with greater emphasis. Though Alejandro gritted his teeth, he was the first to look away. Meanwhile, the Border Lady sighed through a forced smile, suppressing an unprofessional eye roll with a visible force of will. When he mentioned Alejandro, though, that was the only time he’d truly looked furious. And neither was his memory. Still, was it his imagination or did her dancers look nervous? Falling back into the rhythm for his most captive audience, he sang with a bright smile, “For even if I’m far away, I hold you in my heart. Imelda was sure they would understand. - on a scrap of paper and sticking it to the sign, Miguel scrambled onto the white leather seat, his hands finding the rubber grips on the handlebars with ease. It consisted mostly of neighborhood kids, a pair of cousins named Carlos and Esteban, and a boy named Alejandro. Once the final reverberation had faded, Miguel allowed the base of the white guitar to fall against his side, as he offered a small bow to his sister and his mother, and with a crooked grin, said, “Next time, when you’re feeling better, Bebé Coco, we’ll make sure it’s a proper duet.” The way it was always meant to be. A wet cloth and his mother’s hand draped her brow, but her eyes remained stubbornly closed. “Now get out of here before I change my mind.”, Laughing, Miguel placed a light peck on her cheek, then darted out with a waved, “Love you, Mamá!” The rest of the house was asleep, so he hastily grabbed a knapsack, adjusted his cuffs, and made towards the exit. Even he’d gotten sick more than a handful of times when he was her age, but she was so young and small and this was the first time he’d ever seen her sick. Gracias! Grumbling under her breath, Victoria massaged the bridge of her nose. Though Alejandro gritted his teeth, he was the first to look away. He was vaguely aware of being lifted, his arms slung around a spinal column, and then he was moving, floating. Somehow, Miguel had gotten trapped on the Land of the Dead again, and she was the only person in their family who knew, so it was up to her to go and find him and bring him home. From behind him, Enrique could hear Luisa ask who was at the door. On the mantle, pictures could be seen of a young boy with a mouthful of tamales on his birthday, making tacos in the kitchen with his abuela, proudly holding up a pair of polished shoes with a gap-toothed smile, and wearing his pressed and ironed Mariachi uniform for the first time while surrounded by his parents, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandmother. I wasn’t… If only I hadn’t dropped that photo, then-“, “Miguel, I’m fine. Sweat-damp hair clung to the back of her neck like wet down, and frustrated tears gathered at the corners of her gleaming brown eyes. A chill passed through him when the tone of the alebrije’s urgent barking shifted towards mournful, but he shook it off. “You don’t want to see that, mijo.”. #Coco Pixar #Coco fanfiction #Coco Masterpost #fanfic masterpost #un cuento friki fanfic masterpost. Frowning, Miguel turned to see the ethereal bridge of cempazúchitl petals stretching out over the divide between the realms, and the steady stream of souls strolling across it, hand-in-hand and elbow-to-elbow with their families. Merry Christmas! “Could you tell me where Hector is? Remember me, each time you hear a sad guitar.” She sniffled pitifully, already feeling miserable, and now even more so because he was leaving her behind, and Miguel would have given anything to make her well again, but there would be other shows, plenty of them, and she could attend them all once she got better. “Don’t move yet, chiquito.” He knew that voice. As it was, it made his ribcage creak. Pausing mid-step at the sight of his otherworldly guardian and ridiculously carefree pet, Miguel bent low to scratch behind the xolo’s ears, “You’ll take care of everyone while I’m gone, won’t you, Dante?”. “We’re your band, Miguel.” So far, Carlos and Esteban had watched with quiet resignation, as though they’d known the outcome the second Miguel had stated that his sister was sick, but Alejandro persisted with last-ditch desperation, “We need you here.”, Shaking his head, Miguel pushed forward, accidentally bumping shoulders with Alejandro as he passed, “I’m going.”. Judging by his stature and gangly limbs, she guessed that the boy couldn’t have been older than fifteen or sixteen when he’d died. From the album "Para Que No Me Olvides" by Banda Maguey on Napster. Guitar gripped tightly in hand, Miguel tiptoed into his parent’s room, before slowly and silently closing the door behind him. And in the instant that they made contact, an influx of jumbled information assaulted his senses, the first being a hard thump as his guitar was shoved against his chest, followed by a sensation of weightlessness as he stumbled and his feet left the sidewalk, followed by the terrible brightness of approaching headlights. “Tu eres muy stupido.”. Sing me a couple of your songs after you’ve healed up some and we’ll call it even.”. They said you were gone or that you had moved on…”, “Si, I moved in with Imelda. Moving only his eyes, he was able to see the border patrol who’d refused him three times now, except she’d taken her hair out of the stern bun she’d always worn it in. The strings pressed against calloused fingertips as his hands deftly formed the first chord. “Remember me.” His thoughts drifted to Papá Hector and Mamá Coco, as they always did. Creé Kafi Body porque quería más mujeres geniales mostrando toda su seguridad. Instead of saying any of that aloud, however, Miguel merely shot a glance at the big-boned security skeletons standing guard by the marigold bridge, each of them watching him warily in case he tried to finish off this year’s Dia De Muertos by making another run for it. A discordant twang echoed through the Rivera house, but when all present rushed in to investigate, it was to find the room empty, with only a guitar lying on the tile, and the ghost of a child’s delighted laughter still clinging to the walls. And Miguel smiled. Work Search: He didn’t go far, however. The guitar was too large and unwieldy in her grip, yet she set her jaw stubbornly, and brushed her fingertips over the cords, eliciting an unexpectedly sweet sound from the strings. Nothing changed except now he felt silly. Play on Napster. This didn’t have to mean he’d failed. 41. tip: hetalia f/f sort:kudos. left kudos on this work! Instead, she pulled out the photo of Miguel she’d taken from the ofrenda, and asked their owners if they’d seen her brother. Reaching forward to brush a few stray strands of hair from his brow, she muttered thoughtfully, “You are not the first to tell me that, you know.”, “It’s the truth, Senora Frida,” Miguel insisted, because he knew Alejandro and he wasn’t a murderer. Gears already turning as he took note of the bustling techni-colored streets, Miguel strolled down to the corner of the sidewalk where a lone motorbike was propped up against the Pedestrian Crossing street sign. She reached for him with a cry when he stepped towards the door. She was, without question, his most dedicated fan, so if she couldn’t attend the performance, he’d just have to bring the show to her. Though he fought down a fond smile at the resulting fuming pout, Miguel started to sing, his voice whisper-soft and gentle, “Remember me.” It was a promise. She pushed off the cushion, leaping off of the couch, giving him barely had enough time to get the guitar out of the way before she was in his arms, and he held her tightly, cradling her head and pressing his face into the crook of her neck. In truth, though, there wasn’t much to tell. Instead of saying any of that aloud, however, Miguel merely shot a glance at the big-boned security skeletons standing guard by the marigold bridge, each of them watching him warily in case he tried to finish off this year’s Dia De Muertos by making another run for it. Flatly, he said, “Miguel, you’re not leaving.”. TRY NOW. Si je meurs, ne m'oublie pas. “Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me?”. “Though I have to say goodbye. Miguel wasn’t gone like everyone said. He craned his neck, caught a glimpse of brown bangs peeking out from beneath a white sheet, then was stopped by a wrinkled hand on his shoulder. “If your sister were coming, you would know.”. Coco’s really sick. No me olvides. He’d taken comfort in knowing that his decision to leave that night hadn’t been an ultimatum. Sensing this, the skeleton arced a brow, “Comprende?”. Summary: ... His mother was already inside, seated in a chair made of woven straw beside the bed where Bebé Coco slept, her thin frame nearly swallowed by the swaths of blankets and pillows enveloping her from the chin down. I owe it to her to be there for her when she needs me.” And, somehow, he’d always thought his friends would understand that. Merry Christmas! I'd like to give credit to that comic of Hector driving a van across the bridge, because it's a wonderful and amusing headcanon for how he got some of those cracks in his bones. Meanwhile, the Border Lady sighed through a forced smile, suppressing an unprofessional eye roll with a visible force of will. He’d taken comfort in knowing that his decision to leave that night hadn’t been an ultimatum. How could there have been? His guitar, once shattered to pieces, had been lovingly recovered and reconstructed, and it now had a place hanging above the fireplace. But if everyone kept acting like he was never coming back, then maybe he would think they didn’t want him anymore and he’d stay away.
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