Oscar and Felipe aren’t the only siblings to show badassery.
We also have timid Julio:
And sweet Rosita:
See her form? I don’t know much about fighting, but that form tells me she’s used to smacking down people. Yes, she got a little help from Miguel but still.
Victoria was stomping her foot in the background but it’s too blurry:
It makes me think how Victoria and Elena would be in a tag team rumble.
Bonus: Hector’s style?
Distract, distract, distract.
(Another bonus scene of Rosita holding down one of the security.)
Unlike anyone else, this performer never landed a punch, opting to put on a little show of fists up and fancy footwork.
One of these days, I’ll ran out of things to say about Coco but not today.
Héctor, most of the time, is quick moving and comical. Except when he’s with children. When children need parents he becomes softer. Kinder. Quieter. He becomes what they need. And the children who rely on him see a parent. And they lean against it. There’s a marvel in his singing because he speaks to them. He sings for people, not about them. His full attention goes to there. To them.
I’m sure he’s silly and loud and animated most of the time.
And it’s in these moments of pure, raw love that children watch in awe.
Not because he’s talented.
Not because his songs are wonderful.
But because how can one person love so much. How can one person love so wonderfully and fiercely. How is it possible that they could be the center of that love and parental affection?
Miguel’s face when he’s told I’m proud of you is the pinnacle of this awe.
And Coco’s entire life is filled with these looks.
Where she can barely believe one person can love her that entirely.
When Héctor sings, it may be because I love you isn’t even strong enough to translate the sheer breadth of his affection.
What you mean no one’s come and screamed with me about a Coco Hospital AU yet?
You mean not one person has come and screamed with me about Imelda bringing foster child Miguel to the pediatric unit of the ER after a bad fever only to be met by the most annoying Pediatric doctor in the world.
You mean not one. single. person. has screamed with me about Héctor the pediatric doctor, who works with kids and makes their lives a little bit better? Who can make any child smile, no matter what? Who falls in love with little Miguel, who loves music and longs for family and falls even harder for his stern, cold caretaker, who is doing her best not to laugh at his jokes while she fills out hospital paperwork.
HÉCTOR WOULD BRING IN HIS GUITAR AND MAKE AN ENTIRE WARD OF CHILDREN INTO AN AUDIENCE.
He can pull any child out of a panic attack. He can make any child smile. He can calm the most terrified of parents and soothe the most worried of minds.
He’s good at his job.
Very, very good.
So good in fact that the Director of Mexico City General has been trying to get his hands on Héctor for years. Promising his own office, his own wing, his own anything. A man like him on his staff? He’d have one of the best hospitals in South America. On the continent, maybe. His team of doctors is short one brilliant mind, and the Director, a man named Ernesto de la Cruz, is desperate for something to bring him to the top of the medical ladder.
But in the sleepy, sunny town of Santa Cecilia, Héctor is happy and content.
He’s been tempted to leave, yes. Tempted to veer from his little village and join the city folk in what is sure to be the offer of a lifetime. But…
But he can’t leave the kids…
It’ll become even harder to leave once a boy named Miguel pops into his life, dragging along his caretaker Imelda.
When Miguel presents the family photos on the ofrenda to baby Socorro, he tells her “they’re counting on us to remember them”, and I feel Miguel is really going to go the extra mile to keep all of their memories alive, not just Héctor’s. Asking family, friends and neighbors about all of them, listening and memorizing all the stories better than he had in previous years, taking note of what everyone was like and what everyone enjoyed doing while they were alive – and probably still enjoy now that they’re in the Land of the Dead.
So on Día de Muertos, Miguel leaves special personalized offerings for everyone, including the family he hasn’t met from the non-Rivera side of the family. He leaves letters and poems and drawings, magazines and books, albums featuring the best Rivera family photos from the past year, innovative shoes he thinks the Rivera shoemakers be interested in (especially the twins), knickknacks and tools and new accessories (hats, bandanas, ribbons, flower crowns)…
And mixtapes! He remembers technology is outdated in the Land of the Dead, so he puts Papá Enrique’s old CD player on the ofrenda with a completely full CD binder. He makes mixtapes with music he thinks (or knows) his family would like, sorted by family member, and ones with music he likes and wants to share with his family. He refills the binder with new mixtapes every year, and when he starts recording his own songs he adds these CDs too. He even shares scratch vocals and acoustic versions and unfinished songs; many times, after putting a demo he’s unsure about on the ofrenda, he’ll wake up the next day feeling a lot more confident in it because he has a gut feeling that Papá Héctor loved it.
Of course, no one fully understands why Miguel is suddenly putting all this extra stuff on the ofrenda, but they figure it’s his way of dealing with the story of Papá Héctor and honestly, it’s very sweet and thoughtful of him! Elena in particular never fails to tell Miguel how proud she is of him and even gives him advice on gifts.
And the dead Riveras? They might need to start carrying a few handbaskets on Día de Muertos to put all those thoughtful presents in. And when they see Miguel again, many years from now, they will express their immense gratitude, but will also have some stern words about the year he introduced Héctor to the Macarena.
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