#dienteoro

[dequererte]

continued from here! for @dienteoro

A request? Rosíta didn’t grow up without music like Victoria or Elena. She could r e m e m b e r  a time when musíca was a part of her life. She wasn’t the best dancer, or a particularly good singer. But she liked to hum when she was little or say little rhymes when she skipped rope. She used to sing to her flowers because her Máma swore that would help them GROW. 

       Of course, all that went away when Julio married Coco. But she didn’t mind it one bit. 

And all those years alive and dead with no music caused her mind to go blank.

“ Oh, I...I don’t know many songs, Papá Héctor.  Do you have a favourite?” 

[softreminisce]

     ❝    ---- despertarse, papa !!!!!     I want to sing.  ❞      The crack of dawn was most definitely not a time to sing. Despite the fact that the birds outside the window were doing just that, little Coco thought of herself as one. Yet, waking up her sleepy papa from a deep slumber was RUDE.     Even Mama was sleeping and trying to get her rest from a busy day before, & likely feeling and hearing her daughter wiggle her way between the both of them while she draped her little self over the man, lightly putting her hands upon his cheeks. Pat pat pat.      Children has SUCH impatient tempers and somehow Coco hard enough energy in the morning’s to seem like she could run marathons.  

                                     ❝   la guitarra por favor!  ----    ❞            So USE to singing along to her father playing (  their song or not  ) ---- she LOVED singing along and listening to him play. Wanting to learn even though it took years to do so, always plucking a string or two and giggling like crazy when the note was off and the guitar squeaked. Sometimes, Hector seemed to improve the music due to the lyrics she would babble  ( -- likely not making any sense at all. Even if she sang as to what she was doing at the time, at least there was lyrics. )   Continuous little pats to the cheek &  conciliatory; soothing laughs that was their MORNING alarm.  / @dienteoro

[lloronala]

( dienteoro ) “It would’ve been better if we never met. None of this would’ve happened.” ( WINCES —

More Obscure Disney Sentence Starters  ||  accepting

❁ ❁  “  Amor…  ” He let his guitar fall onto his lap, halting his strumming & leaving her agape upon his words. She was speechless from how much pain was produced from a single sentence, & with one hand clenched tightly around her sternum, she placed her spare one around his shoulder blade.

“  Venga, don’t say that–por favor. You & I & everyone else knows that it wasn’t your–  ” Fault. It shouldn’t have been difficult to say that, but oddly she couldn’t. Flashback to all the times she denied him, claiming it his fault, she wondered if she even had the right to comfort his tired mind as of now. Did she have the right to say anything at all?

It was true that he had left them for music, but to provide for his family. & yet, no matter how good his intentions were from the start, he still left her to raise their family alone.

She took a minute to stare down at the ground, averting her gaze from him. She also played the part in making him believe that, & she couldn’t free herself from that guilt as well. Lips puckered into a pout, frustrated at herself in struggling to find the right words to say.

It hadn’t taken long for her to lift her head up to confront him once more, however, as she always did in spite of how many challenges life (& death) had given her.

Pulling herself closer to where he sat, she let her head rest around a part of his rib cage, as if she could hear his once fluttering heart.

“  If I haven’t met you, we would have never had a beautiful hija together. & not only that…but I also would have never known how it feels to fall in love, too.  ” A smile was offered to him, sliding her hand away from her back to brush them across the etchings on his cheekbone.

“  Amor, you taught me how to love even more than what I was capable of, y because of that I was able to become who I am today. Even if it hurt…I still remembered it through our familia, & now…I can finally remember it with you in it again.

So don’t say those things, not when you’ve given me so much…& I’ve yet to return it back all.  ”

[origcmibird-a]

    “ TRUST ME when I say that I know how to do this. I KNOW how to do this. ”  // @dienteoro​ / sc.

[delacrz]

( dienteoro ) “i can’t stay angry forever, ernesto. you know…i can’t even bring myself to hate you. i know what it’s like, to be without a home or family on the streets. so…i’m willing to help you.”

   ❝ HELP ME?  Hector, you shouldn’t even be NEAR me, let alone willing to help me. ---eres un tonto.  ❞

           For MANY people ( -- Ernesto included. ) the idea of being alone conjures up a sense of dread.  PERHAPS it’s the sense of boredom, or the feelings of isolation. Being forced to confront own thoughts. In fact, he felt as though he would MUCH rather give himself electric shocks than be alone with own thoughts for just a few moments. KNOWING exactly what he did throughout his life. Many actions were regrettable & if he could take them all back ------------- , he would.  

      STRUGGLING with these feelings were becoming rather difficult. That the INTENSE guilt & strong pass of loneliness can easily link his struggles to deeper roots.  Many of which being felt at the moment was fueled by trauma, loss and grief ( -- and MOST recently a lack of self-esteem, and insecurity.  ) YEARS ago he was better equipped to face these negative experiences because  he had both internal and external resources that help guide guided through these kind of moments of grief and more easily DISTRACTIONS.  Once having guide from a sense of community to a strong and positive self-concept to ABSOLUTELY nothing.   People wanted him gone even though he was already dead, yet he remained far from the FINAL DEATH for being remembered as a thief, a liar, a MURDERER. 

         Sliding down the wall then, curling in on himself, arms folded unto his knees while he hid his head.  QUIET murmurs of apologies ---- very subtle and silent but likely to be heard through fetal cries. RECALLING the feelings of being alive, young, and relied so much of that of Hector.  Back then, it was IMPORTANT to remember that quality --- not quantity, MATTERED most . In fact, a lot of people who knew of him believed the Ernesto was prioritized broader  communication skills with very few close friends ( --- or even one ) than needing a crowd to feel complete.       ❝  I am not angry with you either. --   ❞  / @dienteoro

[el-mxsico]

@dienteoro continued from x

Proudly he grins at his cousin’s excitement, letting him take the little figurine from his hand. Seeing his beaming smile, the joy that clearly shined in his face, fills him with pure happiness.

“It does a bit! That’s part of why I bought it!” Manolo agrees, nodding. A beat, and his smile suddenly becomes more cheeky-looking. He hums shortly and leans in closer to inspect it.

“Hm, only the ears a bit too small, no?” 

[threestraysouls]

@dienteoro continued from HERE

“I don’t want your company.”

Every day he was here just felt more worse than the last, despite everything. After all, it wasn’t like they were torturing him, but it felt like they may as well have been. He hadn’t really moved unless made to do so since he had died { every time he thought about that he felt sick to his core }, unwilling to be near anyone else. Despite that, he hadn’t really been alone since then, seeing as Héctor was constantly hovering over him, it seemed.

“You’re not. Don’t say you are.” he muttered, voice cracking. “I just want to go home.” he kept saying that, though even he was aware that was impossible. But maybe if he muttered it enough it would happen. “No it’s not...” he argued, it really was all he could do. He didn’t even feel sad for himself anymore, really. Everything just felt hollow.