Imelda Rivera

Indie RP and Ask blog for Mamá Imelda from Disney Pixar's Coco. Open to crossovers and OCs

[magaprima]

First Woman. First Witch.

                                       “When will the world learn? Women should be in charge of everything”

           Private and semi-selective. OC friendly                                                                                                                                    AUs and Crossover verses

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[adivinationwitch]

“You’re going home”

[matriarcarivera]

musicolvidado‌:

Héctor eagerly followed where Imelda led; he’d only lived in the Rivera household a short time after being reunited with the family and he’d never given this storage room much of a second thought. As such, he was delighted to find the brand new clothes and old guitar. He couldn’t remember how many years he’d been confined to these old rags, but that was changing now.

If Héctor had tear ducts, he would be so happy he could cry by this point. “I… I don’t know what to say. Gracias, mi amor…” He hugged the jacket to his chest, setting it down to admire the skillful craftsmanship of the brand new shoes. “Did you make these?” he asked, tracing a digit over the leather.

Perhaps the gift he was happiest with was the guitar. Imelda was letting music back into their lives, allowing him this opportunity to play once again, to fill their lives with song.

Imelda, despite herself, despite wanting to be fuerte, to not look as if she were some self-conscious, lovesick niña, could not bear to look at Héctor while he came face-to-face with the regalos she had given him. She did not want to look and see how she had gotten it wrong, that after all this time, so long trying to forget him, sending him away, she might have...forgotten the persona he really was, and gotten him all the wrong cosas.

Pero, when she turned to finally look at him, he did not look disappointed. She felt an involuntary sigh of relief in her ribcage.

“Por supuesto,” She answered immediately, one hand on her hip, “Do you think I would have anyone else make zapatos for my husband? No, do not be ridiculous. Of course I made them”

Brief tirade over, she looked at Héctor with wide eyes, trying to read him as they had read each other so easily so many times before. “You like the gifts, Héctor?”

[matriarcarivera]

Top Ten ASOIAF characters

1) Catelyn Stark

2) Robb Stark

3) Ned Stark

4) Brynden Tully

5) Arya Stark

6) Ellaria Sand

7) Olenna Tyrell

8) Maege Mormont

9) Edmure Tully

10) Cersei Lannister

Tagged by @longmayshereignxcersei

[matriarcarivera]

Well, after no new GIF sets of Imelda since the last time I made a set, I am coming to the conclusion.....that I must be The Imelda GIFer for the tumblr community.

[matriarcarivera]

purelyradiating‌:

It was more difficult to watch her step, as distracted as she was by the alebrije in her hands. Not only was she endlessly entertained and amazed by the colorful little creature, but with all his running she had to make sure he didn’t fall off of her palm. Sure, he had wings, but they were small enough in proportion that Susan didn’t trust them to break his fall whatsoever.

Theoretically, she understood how the transition back was supposed to work. The alebrijes could cross the bridge, so as long as they were with them, she and Imelda could as well. There were all other sorts of details and circumstances she didn’t quite comprehend, but so long as she had the dog in her hands, she should be able to get back safely. With equal parts trust in, and concern for the silly little dog, she proceeded forward.

“Héctor didn’t seem that crazy to me,” she offered, barring the edge of her occupied hand with the opposite fingers. She really didn’t want to have to cup him in, but if he kept it up, she might not have a choice. It was hard enough making her way when she didn’t have to worry about her passenger jumping overboard. “At least, not as crazy as this little guy.” 

“…What did you say his name was again?” 

“Ay, créeme, he is,” Imelda said simply. Her esposo had never been normal, not even when they were all niños. He was the one with the energy and the over-excitement and the willingness to try anything and not be afraid to make a fool of himself. It made him unpredictable, but it always made him fun and interesting. Y someone who did not care what el mundo thought was something that had mattered very much to Imelda. Héctor had never judged her for her independence, never told her that she should behave more like a well behaved señorita, he had never questioned her ability or told her a man should fix the broken frame on the door. Pero, all that understanding also came with something entirely loco. 

It was a small price to pay.

“And that perro....como mi esposo, he might be loco, pero he is smarter than he appears” After all, it had been Dante that had come to Imelda and led her straight to Miguel where he was trapped in that sinkhole alongside Héctor. The trail for her tataranieto had long since gone cold and neither she or Pepita would ever have found him in time if not for that perro. 

“Su nombre es Dante” Imelda reminded her, “It is the name Miguel gave him. I think it is from some película” Though Imelda did not know which one. “When we are over the bridge and in the Land of the Living, he will not have his wings and it might be best to set him on the floor then....” She reasoned, thinking that while, for now, if he fell, he would simply fly, in the living world, that would not be the case. 

[matriarcarivera]

hopefulcovets‌:

Charon raises a finely grey arched BROW to Imelda and her words. Although she is a woman whose occupation was in the shoes variety, she faced death with no less the same BRAVERY as many Olympian heroes - demigod and mortal alike. The silence he hails in this moment is not of INDIFFERENCE or godly superiority, but rather a quieted respect as he bows his sharpened features downward to acknowledge the presence before him. Charon may be the creation of a mighty king and god, who has WITNESSED countless souls pass, cowardly and bravely, but when one soul stands out so vibrantly then Charon must pause to truly appreciate this. Even more so, he permits himself the visual of Imelda among the Olympians, in the era of great myths when they were BELIEVED in - ey… Imelda truly would have vanquished lesser heroes …

“ You MORTALS are so lacking in imagination ! Everything has become so literal, with a demand to make scientific and logical sense, that you have forgotten the MAGIC of a world without sense and logic, ” sighs Charon, slightly frustrated as he raises a bony hand to touch his equally bony forehead. He has seen COUNTLESS souls fret and squeak in horror over the levitating Ferryman, or for the three-headed beast ( bloody dog … ) guarding the entrance, or even to the Queen Persephone making flowers bloom on dead, blackened rocks. The mortals have so forgotten the ways of the old world. It is disappointing.

Still, Charon’s mood is promptly salvaged when Imelda brings up PRICE. “ I’ve paid for worse for better things, such as a rather boring lap dance from an unenthusiastic dancer from Las Vegas - terrible place, by the way, the GAMBLING is utterly unfair, ” says the Ferryman, making no effort to explain a lap dance to Imelda, knowing FULL well she will be unable to wrap her head around its purpose. “ So your family being scared to death over my suggestion would be nothing, but … I won’t do it, because one too many Rivera’s in the Land of the Dead may prove to be too much for your own gods or god … whatever it is that OVERSEES your side of things. ”

“ Well, lucky for you I have LEATHER in my home, which … ” Charon concentrates for a moment and the leather in question appears on the floor of the boat, black and glossy. “ I had intended to sew it into a … material … but the needle would not fit between my bony fingers. Now, as far as tools go, let’s see … ” He focuses once more, concentrating, FUELED by the thought of this woman being a cold-blooded murderer, before the tools appear by the leather. “ There. Now, shall we begin our JOURNEY whilst you make my sandals ? ”

“Ay, no,” Imelda protested with a casual wave of the hand, “Quizás the new generaciones, sí, pero, the old generaciones? Ah, no. We believe in magic and las cosas that are more than we can understand or imagine, we respect things that are beyond us, pero, the young generaciones, they have all those devil boxes to watch things and to play things and it makes them forget there is an entire mundo filled with things that are so much bigger than them” Miguel was a prime ejemplo of this. The niño had not believed in the importance of the ofrenda, not really believing that his familia could come to share food with them on one night of the year, he had not even believed the dead familia were anywhere at all! The entire Land of the Dead had been a sorpresa to him!

“Pero, despite that,” she continued, “A floating esqueleto would unnerve even the most dedicated believer. Especialmente when they are not expecting it”

However, the greater sorpresa for Imelda was to hear that Charon had been paid in a lap dance. Her entire expression revealed what she thought of that, as she looked the Ferryman up and down in bewildered considered, as if involuntarily trying to imagine the situación and still not being able to understand it. “I imagine it was all she had to give,” She reasoned, deciding that never having seen Vegas in her life was not something she should consider a loss. 

“I can think of a God or two that would not be happy to see so many of us so soon...” Imelda reasoned, thinking of Xibalba in particular. She and Héctor had defied his odds and even though, since her arrival in the Land of the Remembered, Imelda had always found it easy to talk with La Muerte....Xibalba was one she always found it much easier to argue with. No doubt Elena would be exactly the same. 

“¡Ah, perfecto!” Imelda exclaimed as she examined the tools and equipment now before her. She picked them up, squinting at each one in turn, before decided they were exactly fit for purpose. “Sí, this boat is not so diferente from a workbench...it will be easy to make the zapatos aquí. Pero,” She added, looking at Charon with a point of the finger, “No interfering”

[matriarcarivera]

I just did a whole reply for my queue and then tumblr crashed on me. Is there anything more heartbreaking on this freaking site than that????

[matriarcarivera]

matriarcarivera‌:

matriarcarivera‌:

If I made an account for Frances Owens (the witch aunt from Practical Magic)

and/or

a slightly canon-origin-divergent Lilith

would anyone be interested in RP-ing with either of them?

Frances has all her info up, except for verses, and ditto for Lilith. I really want to redesign their blog layouts, but that will wait. But they’re open for play regardless at @redbootedwitch​ and @magaprima​ respectively. So if you want to rp with a boss ass witch who can smell a lie from forty paces or you want to hang out with the queen of hell herself...go follow!

[matriarcarivera]

vainsiren‌:

                        ♥ ·•( Aria took the clothing she eventually handed to him including the shoes. He stared down at them, tempted to say he didn’t just so he wouldn’t look stupid but he remembered his friend Leilin had gone onto the land many times. Aria had seen his friend put on this kind of thing, although these looked different it couldn’t be that difficult. His pride also wouldn’t allow himself that much help from a human, not so soon at least. 

“I think I can.. my friend goes on land and keeps some of this stuff…” The half siren explained. With some struggle and hopping around, almost falling over a few times, he got the clothing on. At first when it came to shoes he put them on the wrong feet. Then the right feet.  The blonde could feel his kneels buckle and his ankles felt weird. 

“Humans are expected to….. ah what was the word… feet? No… it wasn’t that.. walk like this? Walk is the right word…”  He stepped forward and wobbled as if gravity was working differently for him.  “I want to find a mate so you know… I’d love nothing more than to have a family….”   Honestly he looked like a baby dear walking for the first time.  )•· ♥

@matriarcarivera​

“Sí, we walk.....pero, not like that” Imelda argued as Aria stumbled everywhere like a bebé taking his first steps or a perro that had been made to wear socks. “We walk in a straight line, heel to toe,” She explained, and demonstrating with her own skeleton foot in her black bota, lifting the skirts of her vestido so he could see clearly as she walked across the room fácilmente. “You have to wear zapatos otherwise your feet will be dirty and have sharp things sticking into them” A broken shard of glass, a dropped nail, things esqueletos did not need to worry about, pero, a persona with a foot flesh and blood...sí, he would need zapatos. 

“And have you found someone you might to make a familia with?” Imelda asked as she stepped forward and helped Aria steady himself as he trotted about helplessly. “A veces, it is not something you know straight away. Sometimes it takes time for you to realise how you feel about someone, that you want to make a familia with them,” Imelda had not had love at first sight; she had known Héctor distantly throughout her entire life in Santa Cecilia, pero, even when they grew up, it had taken her time to realise those smiles he gave her and the way he made her laugh, made her happy, were all the makings of love. 

“Mi epsoso, the man I married, he knew before I did. He tells me he always loved me, even when we were niños together. Pero, for me it took a little longer” Imelda took Aria´s shoulders and tried to guide him in his walk as she spoke. 

[matriarcarivera]

hopefulcovets‌:

This woman, despite being DEAD, was a force of living nature. Charon was most certainly not jesting when he mentioned the Rivera family to be INTIMIDATING and rather entertaining. Being the god of war, Ares knows the difference between a battle WON and a battle LOST, but due to his pride he shall not confess to the latter in terms of being intimidated by this skeletal figure. Instead, he opts to fold his arms across his chest and huff. “ You are a very strange human, INDEED. Most mortals are inclined to fear the gods or disregard their existence altogether. Yet you STAND there … so calmly and authoritative. Were you younger and living, I would RECRUIT you for my armies. ”

The words of the god are far more than flattery, too. If Imelda were the two - younger and living - Ares would have no need to think twice about offering her a place among his PERSONAL legion. Still, he ought not to focus on that now, not when his mind must refocus to the tasks at hand.

“ I would be most grateful to have your services, ” he says sincerely, STRAIGHTENING out. A smile tugs at his features. It is a rare thing for the god of war to smile at anything that does not involve his husband, Thanatos, or victorious conquering of a mighty BATTLE. “ I have no concerns for roads of danger, trickery, or high stakes - so long as you are able to guide me, I can HANDLE it. ”

To prove his point, he draws a long blade from his coat. “ Yes ? ”

“I do not fear things easily y, when I do, I do not let it rule me,” Imelda declared. True fear was rare for her; sí, there were things that worried her, concerned her, kept her thoughts awake throughout the night, pero fear? True fear was a very rare thing for her to feel. Fear meant you were out of control and Imelda Rivera did not to permit herself ever to be out of control. Even when her dead corazón had pounded in her empty ribcage that night on the stage, all eyes on her, she had still managed to sing, she had taken control, she had performed. And she had taken back the foto from that murderous cabrón. 

“Gracias for what I think is a compliment, pero, I do not think I would want to be in your ejércitos. I have seen enough war and enough blood spilled: I do not need to see more of the same. Pero, all the same,  muchas gracias,” She added, aware that the God probablemente thought declaring she would have a place in his legions if she were alive, was a great compliment, an honour, y sí, she appreciated that. But that did not mean that she would want it. 

“I do not think you will need a sword on the journey, pero...you never know,” Imelda admitted with a small shrug, before she began to lead the way. It was not just Gods that appeared de vez en cuando...it could also be creatures, and some not very pleasant.  

[matriarcarivera]

@worshipsonlydeath replied to your post “If I made an account for Frances Owens (the witch aunt from Practical...”

I wanna make a sabrina SOOOO

Really?? That’s very interesting.....

[matriarcarivera]

If I made an account for Frances Owens (the witch aunt from Practical Magic)

and/or

a slightly canon-origin-divergent Lilith

would anyone be interested in RP-ing with either of them?

[matriarcarivera]

slaughtervibe‌:

“  really? how so? i thought confidence was the greatest gift anyone could have out there, even if it isn’t called that way.  ” having been fortunate enough to be surrounded by people who accepted her as herself, it was quite boggling to ever imagine a person that criticized a person for how they stood up for themselves. it was talent, a sort of power that not many were able to muster up easily.

“  that’s good. in a world like this, we do need more people that are chill & are willing to give others around them a chance.  ” her rules, too, centered around being kind & fair; there was no room for hostility anywhere. “  there’s nothing wrong with honesty, it’s just as important as being fair. without it, there’d only be lies, & we’d be falling for them blindly,  ” she responded back, chuckling near the end. “  i think it’s important to at least hear what people have to say, & then negotiate if possible. but that’s only if they’re willing to do that with you.  ”

ah, so she really did prefer the shark over hair in the end. interesting. “  hey don’t worry, i believe you. with a fierce personality like that, you can turn them into bait.  ” now that’s something she’d be willing to see.

“  that’s a shame. maybe bring your hermanos, then. i’d totally be down to race with the Dead anytime.  ”

“Porque in my town, when I was young, y probablemente even now for some, a woman is just to be married, to have a esposo y hijos, and nothing more. We raise a familia, stay at home for our husbands and children and we do not do things alone. Unless it is the shopping” Imelda explained, remembering with vehement frustration the way she had been judged even in her childhood, even before she was left to raise a child alone, before she started her own negocio, her zapataría, long before then, people had judged porque she went to the plaza alone, porque she walked alone, she was confident enough to be alone and did not feel she needed to spend every minute of her day trying to find a man. 

“Y, for many, when I was a young woman, they did not want young women to have opinions of their own” Imelda’s expression was a scowl and a boot stomped on the floor a little despite herself. Some things...ay, the irritation, the anger, never left. 

“I agree it is muy importante to be fair, sí,” Imelda agreed before adding, “Pero, no, some people are idiotas and hearing them is a waste of time I could be spent doing something useful” And something that would not put her in a bad mood. 

“Exactamente. Show the sharks who is la jefa,” She declared with a grin, pride in her expression, before it fell at the mention of her hermanos into something more resembling...exhaustion. “Do not that say that to them and give them ideas. They would be designing their own carros and probablemente trying to drive up buildings and setting off fireworks...ay who knows what else?”

[matriarcarivera]

dragetunge‌:

▊▊▊-[❇]-▊▊▊—;

“This one I made. My mentor you know the one who taught me made the original one. This one actually you know works?” He loved Gobber he really did. But sometimes he forgot certain things. While he loved the original prosthetic he had made him it didn’t just work for very long. Gobber only had one functional hand and doing small work for gears was hard on him. So he just made it better he supposed. And the design had changed tremendously. He still had the original one in his chest back home. 

Plus his prosthetic had another purpose too. 

But his father said he wasn’t supposed to talk about that while he was getting a proper shoe to fit him. Sitting on the stool he watched the other with his prosthetic. He had been making a lot of new limbs for the vikings back home. Seeing they simply liked well something different. And his weapons were more requested than ever. Despite his service for dragons too. Oh and the saddles too. 

“Shoes are very useful! So anyone who can make them are highly regarded. Until the trolls steal them. Then more shoes you know?” Yeah right it was the dragons that took the boots of Berk. Barf and Belch likes to gnaw on them when no one was looking. But he couldn’t say dragons now could he? So he went with the troll excuse for now.

                                                    ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥ ✥

“You improved it to purpose,” Imelda surmised, smiling at that. She could understand needing to improve on things, o quizás taking things people had made that did not work at all, even if they tried their best, even if they were talented in other ways. Her hermanos, por ejemplo, were very good shoemakers, pero, they were not good inventors, and so many times, Imelda had to take their inventions away to make sure they did not cause injuries. Again. 

“Zapatos are very useful, sí,” Imelda agreed, glad that someone outside of her familia could see the importance of them. Zapatos did not just hold her familia together, but they were muy importante to everyone, in more ways than one. A shoe could made for work, pero, it could also be the shoe for a wedding or a quinceañera, a shoe that brought with it a memoria, something to treasure. Y, in the case of this fitting, stop someone sliding on ice and falling off cliffs to their death which was muy importante también. 

“Pero...trolls steal your zapatos?” Imelda arched one eyebrow impossibly high in silent question of this, her brown eyes flickering over Hiccup in bewilderment. “How and why?”

[matriarcarivera]

musefinch‌:

“Valka,” she obliged, “…is my name.” It had been so long since she’d given her name to anyone, she’d almost forgotten how to. 

The Land of the Dead? She’d heard of no such place. Hel, perhaps, or Valhalla, but given her dress and her accent, the viking got the impression she was referring to someplace entirely different. 

“No, this is my dragon, Cloudjumper.” Another rumble followed in acknowledgement, but it maintained it’s edge. The stormcutter wasn’t entirely convinced, though he trusted Valka’s judgement. She wondered if they had dragons where the woman came from, if she knew what they were. Or maybe alebrije was her word for dragon, in her native tongue. But surely, dragons died just as any other creature did, Valka knew that well, so perhaps there were dragons in the Land of the Dead as well. And maybe, after death, humans and dragons didn’t fight anymore. Afterall, everyone she knew would have drawn their weapons and charged at the sight of Cloudjumper, but Imelda seemed surprised at most. That alone was enough to begin to endear Valka to her. She stepped closer to the woman, her staff now in a less defensive position, regarding her with more intrigue with each passing second.

 “Well, I would certainly say you’ve found someplace new.” Her eyes ran down the purple dress until they found the black, heeled boots beneath, and hovered there in fascination. “Your clothes… are very– interesting. And they keep you warm? Or do you not feel the cold?” 

“Valka?” Imelda struggled to find her tongue around the name, the sounds strange to her idioma, pero, she managed it with a degree of dignity. “Mucho gusto” And it was a pleasure, porque, so often for Imelda, someone who liked to be challenged day-to-day, to have new things to face, who thrived on discovering and learning and working, it was, a veces, disappointing to find the same things every day. Pero, this time, a door had led her to something muy interesante. 

“Un dragón?” Imelda repeated, looking at the creature called Cloudjumper. Quizás because she flew over clouds, she thought to herself. The dragón looked so much like so many alebrijes she had seen, even bore some resemblance to her own Pepita, that Imelda was not entirely convinced she had heard correctly. A dragón? No, they were not things that lived, they were in books. Pero....many people would say The Land of the Remembered was only in libros too. 

“If she is going to breathe fire, I do not want her to burn my dress,” Imelda declared, looking at Cloudjumper with suspicion, as if she thought the dragón was planning to burn her clothes for fun. Valka might find them interesante, but Imelda also found them practical in keeping her covered. She may be dead, but she still had decency. 

“I am dead. I do not feel the cold...pero, a veces, I remember to feel the cold and then..I feel cold,” Imelda explained, “It is the same with hunger. It is the memoria of it that I feel more than the thing itself. Pero, I do come from a place much warmer than this”

[matriarcarivera]

purelyradiating‌:

“I’m really sorry.” She took her eyes off Pepita for a moment to give Imelda and Héctor a sincere look.

“We were all very tired, and I had no idea that carving was so important. I would have put it right back if I knew.” Her eyes snapped to the alebrije as she nibbled at her foot, and couldn’t help but chuckle. At least it seemed Pepita had forgiven her already. 

She turned her attention back to the staff member and listened intently, her brows heightening at his explanation. Susan looked back to Imelda, waiting for a reaction. The Living was precisely where she needed to be, but Imelda… Well, Susan had been in the Land of the Dead for a short while and was fine, so logically Imelda would be okay for a visit as well. Though she could tell, this was definitely non-standard. 

“Well…” she piped in, in an attempt to fill the silence, “I guess if that’s what we have to do, we’d better get started.” The end of the sentence was upturned, as if she wasn’t quite sure. Her eyes stayed on Imelda, still searching for some sort of confirmation. 

“There isn’t a way we could–” Susan threw a nod to the city behind her. “–flower-petal back to the living, is there?” 

In Imelda’s opinion the clerk took too much time telling them all what exactly they needed to do. It was simple enough in Imelda’s mind; they must each put the alebrije back where it belonged exactly and a bendición would then need to be given, and while they were doing this, though they would both be in the Land of the Living they would be in the Land of Dead todavía, unseen by the living, ghosts walking among them until this whole locura was resolved. 

Pero, all of this seemed to take to forever to explain, and all with tiny detalles that were not necesario in Imelda’s opinion. Eventually, she had glared enough that the clerk had started to speak más rápido and when Imelda had said ‘I would like to resolve este asunto tonight and not next year’ he had eventually explained how they were going to get to the Land of the Living. 

It required alebrijes, which could travel back and forth between the worlds no matter the time of the year, making a bridge for them to cross. Imelda would fly Pepita and Susan would carry Dante in her hands if he stayed still long enough. 

“That is my grandson’s perro,” Imelda explained as she flew alongside Susan, making their way to the bridge. “Pero, he is very close to mi esposo también. Quizás because they are both loco” She reasoned as Dante ran around in circles on Susan’s palm, his little wings flapping but unused, tongue lolling out.