#or veladora

[jaimeblancarte]

@jaimeblancarte Querétaro, Qro. 2024

[coldfeetrunnynose]

Always praying for good and fairness for everyone and everything 🌙💀🕯️🌹🙏🛐

[jukeboxofjellycat]

Owner/artist on Instagram: suculenta_rosa

[littlespyeye]

"Candlelight to break up with your toxic one."

This one's for you Casey XD

[meimena]

Inktober día 3: veladora 🕯

[xx-pr0p5-n-m4ur1c0n-xx]

Necesito jabón pq en la radio tiene muchisimo boletos de rockeros y NECESITOOOO

[infowarsrzk0]

redesrzk @RedesRZK 🤣@XochitlGalvez Está tan perdida q dice q la elección será el “2 de julio”🙃día 2 de campaña y además de hacer pactos satánicos.#XochitlNoDaUna https://twitter.com/Rocha4T/status/1764017010185322905/video/1 @EmilioAlvarezI @Xochitl2024 #MxSinMiedo🇺🇸🇨🇦🇬🇧🇮🇱#CODIGOLUCIFER✝️#VAMOSaGANA CON SATANAS https://pic.twitter.com/dxO6ysjOem https://pic.twitter.com/xrMcDCf3l4

[heavenscapes]

HARD LATIN - SoundCloud

Listen to HARD LATIN by ⓒⓗⓡⓘⓢ ⓢⓐⓝⓣⓞⓢ on #SoundCloud

[emsprovisions]

Switching gears for a Halloween fic I’ll hopefully have out this week 🥰 happy Sunday y’all!

Most importantly, TK and Carlos have their Día de Muertos ofrenda set up on the table behind the couch, with framed pictures of Gwyn and Gabriel, a white veladora between them. There’s vibrant papel picado hanging around the edge of the table and a sugar skull vase with bright, orange Mexican marigolds erupting from the top. As their own personal touch, Carlos has his dad’s Ranger badge in front of Gabriel’s picture, and TK has set out one of his mom’s handwritten cookbooks and a vintage jewelry dish with her ear cuff stack, her other favorite earrings, and her grandmother’s engagement ring. A wooden rosary hangs off of Gabriel’s frame while a Star of David hangs from Gwyn’s. In front of the candle, there is a plate of pan de Muerto and challah.

Carlos surprised TK the first time he’d set the altar, their first Día de Muertos after Gabriel had died. He came home to his husband hanging papel picado around the table behind the couch and saw the framed pictures of their dead parents. TK didn’t expect his husband to include his mom in his culture, but he did. Carlos asked TK if it was okay and TK didn’t fully grasp what this symbolized then, but he does now.

“It’s more than okay,” he told Carlos. “As long as it’s okay my mom wasn’t Catholic.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Carlos shook his head, wrapping an arm around TK’s waist. “The ofrenda is to remember our loved ones. Show them we’re always thinking about them.”

Carlos asked TK to pick out things that belonged to his mom he might want on the altar, and neither of them had a dry eye as they set it up.

They set it up again the same way this year, together, mixing their culture and their religion into one beautiful altar to honor their loved ones. It’s TK’s favorite area of all the decorations in the loft. He thinks it’s Carlos’s favorite too.

Thank you for the tags @ironheartwriter @heartstringsduet @nisbanisba and @eclectic-sassycoweyes !!! 💕

No pressure tags @strandnreyes @tellmegoodbye @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-in-glasses @carlossreaders @captain-gillian @alrightbuckaroo @butchreyes @bonheur-cafe @nancys-braids @reyesstrand @paperstorm @lightningboltreader @chicgeekgirl89 @welcometololaland @decafdino @corsage

[maysavagee]

A veces se siente que los años se han llevado mi inspiración, mi romanticismo entre los daños, mi disciplina entre lo huesos, a veces se siente que vivo una vida que no planee, que mis sueños se apagaron entre porros malhechos y veladoras de panteón.

[barbarabezina]

Veladora

Digital photography + homemade filters

[esuemmanuel]

Había encontrado un cierto atisbo de paz, al menos eso me hizo sentir la costumbre de no tener a nadie a quien mirar. Estaba en un lugar en cuyo centro yacía el árbol de la aceptación y bajo su sombra reposaba. No sé en qué instante me entró la idea de moverme de ahí y buscar, entre el verdor que me rodeaba, una salida a lo que otrora me había parecido el paraíso. No sé, pero busqué... y encontré una puerta. Esa puerta estaba abierta, ni siquiera tenía un cerrojo, sólo una perilla sencilla que podía abrirse con el viento. Parecía que el mismo lugar deseaba hacerme salir de él para aventurarme a más y dejar de compadecerme por la dichosa paz que creía haber alcanzado. Dudé, aun con toda esa verdad escribiéndose en mi mente, abrir la puerta, pero lo hice como un acto reflejo de lo que en el fondo sentía. La paz me sabía a flor de Cempasúchil, a veladora, a rezos y santos Rosarios... y me había hartado de eso. Quería salir, explorar la vida, recordar lo que era ser embriagado por la vid del caos y emborracharme de dolor, de esas emociones amargas que envenenan la sangre. Sí, fue por eso que salí y me sumergí en otro mundo... en otra vida... en otro tiempo... para, una vez más, volver aquí, añorando el descanso eterno del que ya no debo jamás salir.

I had found some semblance of peace, at least that made me feel the habit of having no one to look at. I was in a place in the center of which lay the tree of acceptance and under its shade I rested. I don't know at what instant I got the idea to move from there and look for, among the greenery that surrounded me, an exit to what had once seemed like paradise. I don't know, but I looked... and I found a door. That door was open, it didn't even have a lock, just a simple knob that could be opened with the wind. It seemed that the place itself wanted to make me get out of it to venture further and stop feeling sorry for the blissful peace I thought I had achieved. I hesitated, even with all that truth writing itself in my mind, to open the door, but I did it as a reflex act of what I felt deep inside. Peace tasted like a flower of Cempasuchil, a candle, prayers and holy Rosaries... and I had had enough of it. I wanted to go out, to explore life, to remember what it was like to be intoxicated by the vine of chaos and to get drunk on pain, on those bitter emotions that poison the blood. Yes, that was why I went out and immersed myself in another world... in another life... in another time... to, once again, return here, longing for the eternal rest from which I must never leave.

[ernestoednrec]

Tarde de miércoles y escuchando el MTV Unplugged de NIRVANA grabado el 18 de noviembre de 1993, toda una joya en mi colección de discos en vinyl

Por cierto, si, mi veladora es de Kurt Cobain

[nxyep]

"Quizás en el otro lado tú me estás prendiendo una veladora pa' que me alumbre los pasos

Quizás también me vas a preparar mi mole que alimente mi corazón hambriento de nuevos amores

Quizás allá me pongas en un altar un jarro de chocolate bien cargado para que vuelva a saborear el dulce de la vida

Quizás me hagas un camino de flores para ya no sentirme tan perdida, y entre papeles de colores me arropes el alma herida

Quizás tú vas a celebrar en noviembre un "Día de los Vivos" y convertida en mariposa festejaras que yo aquí sigo resistiendo y bajarás del cielo un ratito para acompañarme en mi duelo eterno..."

Texto: Hija de la bordada

[anonbaph]

Happy birthday to Xie Lian, from his most devoted believer.

This week I was happy listening to music when Caifanes' Antes de que nos olviden's lyrics started to hurt. I thought to maybe make a Short with the end of it for Julián, and here it is!

Aunque tú me olvides Te pondré en un altar de veladoras Y en cada una pondré tu nombre Y cuidaré de tu alma

This video on Twita, on Youtube. Previous animatic was for MDZS's Nie, check here.

[itsblasttothepast]

Como buena católica (igual que Checo) le hemos prendido su veladora al viejo sabroso para que nos eche la mano mañana.

San Judas, el santo patrono de los casos imposibles.