#place des festivals

[nothingexistsnever]

549

[ascle]

Happy dance!!!

[w0lfkller]

...who put that mistletoe there ?

[wanderfulescapes]

Traveling in festival seasons (Fall edition) 🍁🍂

Dia de Los Muertos

Every autumn, Mexico erupts with joyful celebrations to honor lost loved ones during the time-honored holiday of Día de los Muertos. Far from somber, the festivities invite the deceased to return through vibrant rituals passed down through generations. You'll see the streets come alive with parades of skeletons and skulls, elaborate altars overflowing with marigolds and favorite foods of those departed, and families gathering in cemeteries for overnight vigils. The playful costumes and faces painted like sugar skulls celebrate life and death alike. To fully experience the communal rituals, rich memories, and cultural insights that surround Día de los Muertos, you must immerse yourself in the celebrations. As you reflect on mortality and honor those who came before, you just may leave Mexico with a revived passion for squeezing every drop out of life. Let the uplifting festivities of Día de los Muertos sweep you up on a travel adventure like no other this fall.

Before going Mexico for Día de los Muertos you need to understand their culture and traditions and where are they coming from.

Día de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, is a multi-day holiday celebrated each year from October 31 to November 2 across Mexico and by people of Mexican heritage worldwide. The holiday originated with the indigenous Aztec and Mesoamerican cultures of Mexico and Central America over 3,000 years ago. When Spanish conquistadors arrived in the region in the 1500s, the rituals of Día de los Muertos merged with the Catholic holidays for All Saints and All Souls Days.

Today, Día de los Muertos is a time for families to honor and celebrate their deceased loved ones. They build elaborate altars called ofrendas overflowing with the favored foods, drinks, photos and possessions of the dead. The holiday is associated with vibrant decorations like marigold flowers and sugar skulls. Families often clean and decorate the graves of lost loved ones, sometimes having overnight candlelight vigils or picnics in the graveyard. Parades and festivals with skeleton costumes, music, dancing and feasts are common public celebrations.

While Día de los Muertos has origins in mourning and remembrance, the mood today is celebratory and festive. The rituals are designed to entice the spirits of deceased family members to return for this special day of reunion. The holiday reminds us to value life and those we love. Día de los Muertos reflects the Mexican view that death is natural - not something to fear, but rather accept as part of life's cycle.

Participating in Dia de los Muertos festival is an incredible opportunity to immerse yourself in Mexican culture and honor the tradition of celebrating life and remembering the departed. Here are some recommendations for what to do during the festival:

Visit Altars: These are set up in homes, cemeteries, or public spaces, overflowing with marigolds, candles, skulls, photos, and the favorite foods and belongings of deceased loved ones. Observing them provides deep insight into the customs. Each altar is unique and offers a glimpse into the lives of those being remembered. Respectfully observe the offerings and take in the stories behind them.

Attend a candlelight vigil - Many families hold all-night vigils in cemeteries, decorating graves with marigolds and keeping candles lit to guide the spirits. Witnessing this intimate tradition is moving- Many families hold all-night vigils in cemeteries, decorating graves with marigolds and keeping candles lit to guide the spirits. Witnessing this intimate tradition is moving

Witness Parades and Processions: Many towns and cities host lively parades filled with vibrant costumes, music, dancing, and people painted as calaveras (skulls). These parades are a joyful way to celebrate the spirits' return.

Enjoy Traditional Foods: Indulge in the delicious traditional foods associated with Dia de los Muertos, such as pan de muerto (sweet bread), chocolate caliente, sugar skulls, tamales, atole (a warm beverage), and more.

Learn about La Catrina: Discover the history and significance of La Catrina, the iconic elegantly dressed skeleton figure.

La Catrina became an iconic Día de los Muertos symbol due to her origins in José Guadalupe Posada's satirical 1910 etching of an elegant female skeleton, poking fun at indigenous Mexicans imitating upper class fashions. Her name blended European and native words, while her outfit blended styles, representing Mexico's mixed origins. Artist Diego Rivera later popularized La Catrina as a national symbol in his murals. Her playful yet philosophical representation of death as a natural part of life, instead of something to fear, resonated deeply. Today La Catrina appears everywhere during Day of the Dead celebrations, from artwork to costumes. She is the quintessential folkloric embodiment of Mexican identity and attitudes towards death.

Engage in Face Painting: If you're comfortable, consider getting your face painted with calavera makeup. It's a fun and artistic way to join in the spirit of the celebration.

Overall, Dia de los Muertos is a celebration of life, memory, and the unity of people across generations. Engaging in the festivities with respect and an open heart can provide you with a transformative and culturally enriching experience.

[postcard-from-the-past]

Place de la Nation Square in Paris during a festival

French vintage postcard

[edilmaangel2]

Cannes!

Kik edilmaangel1 ads me

[yz]

First Nations festival at the Places de Festivals

[folichonneries]

[thejoyofviolentmovement]

News/Announcements: Toboggan Festival Announces 2024 Lineup

Toboggan Festival Announces 2024 Lineup @quebecregion @audibletreats @SIRIUSXM @SiriusXMFranco @siriusxmcanada @theMATTNworld @bbnomula @JonasBIue @Letwinsofficial @haviahmighty @surfmesa @LaBottineS @KAINofficiel @Quimorucru @groupe_leclerc

BLEUFEU is a Québec-based event organizer and show promoter that delivers festive and inspiring experiences including Festival d’été de Québec (FEQ), St-Roch XP, Festival Fono and Toboggan — New Year’s Eve Celebrations. BLEUFEU also hosts hundreds of performances year-round at L’Imperial Bell and Grizzly Fuzz. For more information on BLEUFEU, you can check out their website:…

[lionheartlr]

Discover Bolivia: Your Ultimate Travel Guide

A Glimpse into Bolivia’s Rich History Bolivia, a landlocked country in South America, boasts a diverse and rich history. It was originally inhabited by ancient civilizations, including the Tiwanaku and the Inca Empire. Spanish conquistadors arrived in the 16th century, leading to centuries of colonial rule. Bolivia gained independence in 1825 but has since experienced a turbulent political…

[reilemon]

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊Cool Off₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

♡︎ pairing: Zayne x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎ cw: unprotected sex (oops), office sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, I think that's it?

♡︎ word count: 3.4k

♡︎ synopsis: what to do when you "accidentally" flash your doctor?

♡︎ a/n: I haven't written smut in like three years. So if you think my writing is cringe, just keep scrolling idk.

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎ @its-de ♡︎ for reading and helping me with this

banner by @cafekitsune

You finally have a day off and you want to use this free time to run errands. However, it's also a hot summer day and you need to dress accordingly. After cleaning your apartment and stocking up your fridge, you have -

meet up with your friend

shop for some new summer clothes and bed sheets

doctor’s appointment

You'd just skip the last one because you feel fine, even during the hot weather.

But you know damn well Dr Zayne will not be pleased with you if you do that. And he's not only your doctor now (and a childhood friend), but an actual friend who you spend most of your free time with. Circumstances of him being your assigned physician, some other stuff that happened in the last few months, brought you so much closer that you couldn't help but develop a huge crush on him. And how could you not when he's so kind, warm, attentive, always makes time for you, funny in his own way... you could spend the whole day thinking of all the stuff that makes you want to be more than friends.

Actually, you might be more than just friends. Lately, you’ve been going on a lot of “dates”; visiting festivals, trying new restaurants but also frequenting your favorite ones, dragging him to the arcade… he’s started insisting on being the one to drop you off at home after a night out. Just a couple of weeks ago when you were sick, he came to your place and took care of you. Both of you ended up falling asleep on your bed watching your comfort movie – actually, he wanted to read his book but ended up invested in the plot and eventually fell asleep before you, tired from his shift and nursing you back to health. You had enough strength to get up to pull out a freshly washed blanket from the closet and cover him. You lied back down, finding comfort in watching Zayne’s peaceful sleeping face. That’s how you fell asleep.

The next morning you found yourself waking up on Zayne’s chest, your form enveloping his. He was gently stroking your back, waiting for you to open your eyes. You don’t know whether you were the one that latched onto him during the night, or if he’s the one that pulled you in; nonetheless, it felt surreal to wake up like this. You looked up into his beautiful hazel green eyes, and you just shared a moment of pure intimacy. Then you got self-conscious of him having a close up of your morning face, which made you immediately jump from the bed and sprint to the bathroom. So, he did manage to nurse you back to health in one day.

You really wish he made the first move already. With all the stolen glances, lingering touches, cuddling, you genuinely think he feels the same way. But you are also his patient, so maybe he feels uncomfortable starting anything, like he’s crossing a boundary and abusing his position as your physician? Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move?

Or maybe you’re just delusional and ovulating.

Okay, back to the present. You’re not going to pass up the opportunity to see your crush (this is more than just a crush, honestly) and you add one more task to the list

get some dessert for Zayne

And you want to look cute for him, so you opt for your new backless summer dress.

☃︎⋆⁺₊☃︎⋆⁺₊☃︎⋆⁺₊

“Thank fuck, I look okay.” You murmur as you check yourself out in the mirror in the bathroom of Zayne's office.

It's just before 8pm, your scheduled checkup. Both of you were too busy to hang out for more than a week, and you can’t wait to see him. You took this opportunity to leave the heavy shopping bags on the sofa, the bag with dessert on his desk, and quickly freshen up in the bathroom. It was so hot today, still is, but thanks to the dress you didn't sweat that much.

You exit the bathroom the same time he enters the office. You catch how his usually stern gaze behind his glasses softens at the sight of you.

“Hey!” You don’t waste any time and shorten the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck giving him a peck on the cheek.

Zayne’s hands stiffly hover over your waist, stunned by the enthusiastic greeting. You always have a big smile on your face when you see him, but you’re only this forward when you have some alcohol in your system. He doesn’t smell it on your breath now though.

“Did you miss me that much, or are you trying to coax me to skip the check up?”

You pull away with a pout and a blush on your cheeks. Feeling a little embarrassed, you go and sit on a chair across his desk, steering the conversation towards the dessert you brought him.

With an entertained smirk, he sat on his chair and indulged in just chatting with you, and making plans for the evening. He feels at ease now that you’re here.

Zayne cuts the conversation short to take care of some paperwork, so you entertain yourself with your phone, checking what cafes are open. You sit there in silence, not wanting to disturb him. The room is air-conditioned and you would think you'd start to cool down, but it's impossible to do so when your crush is right across you. You try to focus on your phone but your eyes keep darting between the screen and Zayne’s handsome focused features…his hand holding the pen… his long fingers...

“You need to ask me something?” Zayne peers over his glasses.

Busted!

For like a hundredth time.

You fidget in your seat. “Um, no. I don’t wanna disturb you.”

He closes a file and puts papers aside. “I’m done. Go ahead.”

You make up how you wanted to ask him if he wanted to visit the café on your screen, only to for him to point out it’s closed when you show it to him. Not smooth at all.

You nervously scratch your back, and that when it hits you. You didn't wear a bra today!

In your defense, of course you're not going to wear a bra with the backless dress and when it's so hot outside, and it would be okay if this was just a hangout, but the main reason why you're here is because of the check up! Well, now you're getting even more flustered and you can feel nervous sweat forming everywhere. Great.

Zayne's voice fades into focus.

"Is everything okay?"

“Yeah, let’s just go find a cafe that’s nearby!” You prop yourself to sit up and make a run for it, but the seriousness in Zayne’s tone stops you.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

You wave your hand “I feel great, you don't need to -"

"That's good to hear." He humors you, setting the stethoscope around his neck, eyes not leaving yours.

You engage in a short staring contest, but you never win those with him. You hold back the bratty whine as you get up and walk towards the chair. Should you address this? What would be more awkward – saying that you don’t have a bra on or just slipping off the top of the dress, flashing him? But Zayne is a professional; he probably saw plenty of breasts from other patients and didn’t bat an eye. And maybe he even noticed that you’re braless.

You sit on the chair next to him and Zayne gives you an amused look. “Good girl.”

It was like a reflex - the moment you heard those words, your hands slipped off the top of your dress. Zayne pauses, his eyes locked at the sight before him. Oh shit, did you manage to make the situation awkward after all? Just when you wanted to open your mouth to say anything, he blinks and proceeds to do what he’s supposed to do. You suck in a breath when the icy cold stethoscope touches your chest spreading goosebumps across your skin, making your nipples hard. Zayne's eyes are focused somewhere to the side, but you can see light redness peppered on his cheeks. The two of you sit there in silence while he checks your heartbeat. You try to compose yourself, take slow breaths, but your heart is giving you away.

When he’s done, he takes off the instrument and places it on the table. He clears his throat “Nothing irregular, your heartbeat is a little faster, but the heat is probably to blame.”

Right, the heat.

You hope that the redness, still on his face, and his ears, is not from the sun.

Again, you have two choices – do you pull the top up and act like nothing happened, continue the same ‘will they, won’t they’ routine – or do you want to do something about this, take the first step and find out once and for all if this infatuation is one sided?

You take his hand, making him look at you, ‘Well, can you help me cool down, Doctor?’

Zayne eyes widen slightly, switching between your hand and your gaze, only guessing where you’re going with this.

You gently place his cold hand just above your left breast ‘Is this okay?’ you whisper.

Zayne’s irises are almost black from how dilated his pupils are. As he gazes into your doe eyes, the hand resting on your chest travels up across your skin and lands on the side of your neck. He takes off his glasses, leans towards you, his lips a breath away from yours, “You’re walking on thin ice, darling.”

He grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you into a searing kiss. Zayne is kissing you like a man starved, like he's been waiting for this for so long, afraid that this moment will slip away all too quickly. His other hand wraps tightly around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing your chests together, feeling each other’s heartbeats. You moan into the kiss, surprised by the intensity of it and the desperation of his embrace. His lips are so soft and tender, just like you imagined too many times. The hand on your waist travels up to grab your breast, the sensation of his big cold hand on your heated skin making you gasp against his lips. He seizes the moment to lick your bottom lip, then slipping his tongue, yours quickly meeting it.

Suddenly, both of his hands land on your shoulders pulling away.

He utters ‘fuck’ (this might be the first time hearing him say the f word, and you’re embarrassed how excited it made you.) He holds your chin with thumb and index finger, ‘Do you wish to continue?’

You utter ‘yes’ and grab him by the black necktie locking your lips again. His hands find the top of your thighs, then sneaking their way down to bunch up your dress over your knees.

“Hold onto me.” He murmurs between kisses, and you oblige, catching onto his shoulders. Zayne grabs you by the back of your soft thighs, lifting you from the chair and placing you on his desk, so effortlessly and swiftly, like you weigh nothing.

Your fingers comb through his soft, thick hair, relishing in the fact of being able to touch it like this. His hands cup your face, distancing his lips from yours. You expectantly look up to see his tender, yearning gaze. He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he kisses you again, this time softly, slowly deepening it, stealing your breath away. His soft lips move to kiss and nip at the side of your neck, his hands giving attention to your breasts again. He caresses both of them, and it doesn’t take long for one of his hands to be replaced by his lips. His hot tongue teases around the nipple. But when he starts sucking on it, while simultaneously playing with the other one with his fingers, a loud moan escapes your lips.

Zayne’s smirks against the sensitive nipple, “You need to stay quiet, darling.”

You were so dazed with lust that you completely forgot that there could be people outside his office. You bite your bottom lip and nod.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, one hand bunching up your dress more and resting on your hip, while the one on your nipple sneaks its way down, teasing the band of your underwear. You feel his fingers slide down, rubbing you over your soaked panties, making you move your hips, craving more friction.

“Fuck.” He breathes against your ear, “You’re already so wet for me.”

The fingers travel towards the band of your underwear and tug on it, and you lift your hips to let him slide it down your legs. Then he stashes your panties into the pocket of his pants.

He catches you by surprise when he kneels down in front of your cunt, your legs closing on reflex, but Zayne grabs your thighs before they could squish his head.

He gently strokes them, "Let me see you."

You’re hesitant about it, but you remember that you took extra steps when you freshened up in the bathroom. Slowly, you spread your legs, lifting your feet to rest on the edge of the desk. Cool air against your soaked pussy sends shivers all over your body.

His hands rest on the plush of your inner thighs. His eyes are mesmerized by the sight in front of him. You almost feel self-conscious by the close-up he’s getting.

"Zayne –" You squirm under his stare.

Snapping out of his daze, he meets your eyes "I’m sorry. You’re just so much more beautiful than I imagined."

Than he imagined? The statement makes your cheeks even deeper red, your pussy more wet and impatient.

Feeling impatient himself, Zayne starts by placing gentle kisses on your inner thigh. The hand on the opposite side follows the same trail, his slender fingers stopping to tease your wet folds, the contact making you gasp and involuntarily clench your thighs.

"Relax, angel." His breath fans over your pussy, not making it easier but you try anyway.

The digits slowly glide over the wetness, bathing in your juices. Your hips flinch as his fingertips lightly circle your clit, thighs trembling as digits are replaced with his hot tongue. It glides flat over your folds, stopping to circle the sensitive nub. The tip of the tongue flicks over it, circles it, again and again, your cunt dripping with both his saliva and your arousal. His middle finger slides in, ring finger shortly after, curling to reach and rub that delicate spot inside you; he sucks and licks your clit while finger fucking you, and your thighs are now shaking, toes curling, as intense waves of pleasure course through your body.

Your hold onto Zayne’s hair, and roll your hips in the same rhythm of his fingers, chasing your release, "Zayne… I’m gonna–"

He locks eyes with you and continues what he’s doing; you come shortly after, covering your mouth with your hand.

Zayne helps you come down from your high, places soft pecks on your thighs again and stands up, pulling you into another breathtaking kiss.

Your hands frantically find his belt and start unbuckling it.

Zayne breaks the kiss, ‘I don’t have any condoms here.’

You shrug ‘Just pull out.’

‘That’s not very respo – ‘

‘Well, you’re a doctor; you can prescribe me some plan b pills.’ you innocently flutter your lashes.

He chuckles and starts taking off his tie and shirt, and you take a moment to gaze at the strong, chiseled muscles of his torso, his arms and those shoulders. Zayne, amused at your dazed and shameless ogling of his  shirtless physique, reaches down to unzip his pants, taking them and underwear off in the same go, his hard cock smacking against his shaved pelvis. You suck in a breath when your eyes land on it. He's long and thick, curved just right, tip glistening with so much precum. You hand wraps around it, stroking and feeling the pulsing veins under your touch.

Zayne’s breath hitches ‘Are you sure – fuck…’ He groans when you press his length against your slippery folds, teasingly moving your hips.

‘Yes… I need you.’

With those magic words, Zayne swipes all the papers off the table, grabs you behind the knees and lifts your legs further, and you lean back to rest on your elbows.

His dick strokes your slit, tip teasing the entrance, but you're so impatient.

'Zaynee-' you whine.

He closes his eyes, jaw clenched. Even though your ‘friend’ is the embodiment of calm and collected, right now he’s barely holding onto his composure. His flushed cheeks and red ears, ragged breathing are exposing how badly he wanted, needed, this and how he’s trying so hard not to cum right here before even slipping the tip in.

But he doesn’t want to wait any longer; with your needy whines spurring him on, he places his red cockhead against you, your drenched pussy making it easy to slide it in.

His leg muscles tremble, trying to restrain himself from bottoming out the same second; with shallow thrusts, he slowly slides it all the way in. He towers over you, one hand resting on the desk, the other cupping your face. His hips roll at languid pace, his hooded eyes never leaving your face, watching you adjust to his size.

As you get comfortable, you grab him by back of his neck “Faster, please…” You breathe. He leans down, locking your lips into a sloppy kiss.

He slowly picks up the pace, his hand starts playing with your nipples again, and now it's really hard keep your voice down. You keep breaking the kiss in desperate need to catch your breath, but moans escape your lips as well. Zayne grabs your upper arms and pushes you down further. His muscular torso pressed against yours, his pelvis rubbing against your clit.

“Zayne - I'm close”

“Try to stay quiet, angel.” he grunts, his eyes locked on your face, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He angles himself so his hand can reach down and rub your clit, and it’s too much for you - you cum a few seconds later and Zayne has to slip two fingers of his other hand into your mouth to keep you from screaming. You still whimper and moan over his fingers. He slows down to help you ride out the orgasm, and pulls out the fingers to kiss your lips.

'Is it okay to pick up the pace now? I'm so close.'

You only nod, unable to form any words. He plants a kiss on your temple and moves onto kissing and sucking your neck. Then he goes back to just looking at your face while he picks up the pace, your legs locking around his waist, pulling him even deeper. You bite your bottom lip, but at this point, you feel it's impossible to stay quiet. And now it's not only you who is making noise, but the desk, although sturdy, is starting to move and creak.

You gasp as he suddenly lifts you off the table with his big arms wrapped around your torso. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding onto him. His hands grabs your ass and starts moving your hips in unison with his, his throbbing dick thrusting so much deeper, all the juices leaking down his balls and onto the floor.

You latch your teeth onto his neck to keep yourself from screaming while he’s panting feverishly into your ear.

‘I’m gonna come soon –‘

You meet his gaze ‘Don’t pull out.’

His hips stutter at your words, eyes widening for a second. He curses under his breath and picks up the pace. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, lewd gasps and pants interrupting.

His hands squeezing your ass in a bruising grip, he grunts against your lips, and you feel intense throbbing of his cock; warm liquid filling you up, sending shivers all over your sweaty body.

His slow pumps let his thick cum drip out, making a mess of his pants and the floor. You can feel how fast his heart is beating against your chest. The two of you catch your breath as your lips share a languid kiss, enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies.

After pulling out, Zayne sits you on his chair. He kneels in front of you, caresses your cheek, his eyes full of adoration. “I never thought our first time would look like this.”

You lean into his palm, looking at him with sweet innocent eyes, “Oh? What did you imagine then?”

“I can show you later.”

[veryintricaterituals]

When I was in school I went to a friend's house to work on a project on a Friday afternoon. At about 6 or 6:30 when the sun was about to set her mom called us over to the livingroom. She lit two candles with my friend and then they proceeded to put the lit candles inside of a little cupboard so no one could see them. Me, a young jewish teenager asked her, my catholic friend, why they did that and she shrugged, said it was a family tradition to bring peace and prosperity, that the women of the family did it every friday evening and then hid the candles. They were very catholic, so I bit my tongue and we went back to her room to study.

This is just one of many, many, crypto jewish traditions that still exist in my hometown of Medellín, Colombia and I want to share a little bit about them with you.

Medellín is the capital city of a region called Antioquia and it is currently the second biggest city in my country. Now the weird thing about my region and my city more specifically is that it is in the middle of fucking nowhere, like we are in a valley in the middle of the andean mountains and it would take over two weeks by river, horse and river, and dunkey and mule to even get here before the invention of cars or trains.

Now Medellín was founded over 400 years ago, and families had been coming to the region for way before then, so that means that for centuries getting to my city from the sea or from the other big cities in the country was incredibly hard. This was by design, because Medellín itself was founded by about 28 families and we know for a fact that alteast half of them were crypto jews hidding from the Spanish Inquisition, and both before and the foundation more and more jewish families arrived to the region.

This is a known fact, the DNA of the people from the region has a lot of sepharadic jewish mixed in there. Early Colombian literature dating up to the 1845 would call the people of my region the Neogranadine Jews or the Colombian Jews. But because they were crypto jews the religion and most of the traditions were lost during the 400 years that have passed, now over 90% of the population is catholic and don't really know about their origins.

But some things stuck. And I want to tell you about them.

On the 7th night of December there is this pre-christmas festival called "El día de las velitas" or the little candle night that started and was unique to Antioquia. It's supposed to commemorate the candles that people had in the streets and the windows on the night Jesus was born and that helped Mary and Joseph to find their way. Do you know how this unique festival is celebrated in my city? People take to the streets to light candles, small colorful candles that they put in wooden planks or directly on the streets, it's the night that people decorate and turn on the christmas lights and it is so important and popular that we have an actual day off on the 8th of december.

Let me show you a few pictures

I don't think I need to explain this one. Even most goyim will know about Hannukah. But it is the weirdest thing when the dates coincide and we are all lighting candles together.

My dad was in the Jewish community board and we needed to rent a place to put our jewish daycare. They found this beautiful old house that had belonged to a family in colonial times but needed a little TLC. We had them remove some wooden floors because they were too old and rotting and found a huge Magen David made out stones in the center of the floor. The house also happened to have two separate kitchens and a mikveh or immersion bath in one of the rooms. These a very traditional things that colonial houses have in my region.

My grandmother converted to Judaism so I have a side from my family that is 100% from here and didn't arrive during the 20th century. I had the pleasure to meet both of my great grandparents from that side though they died when I was young. My grandma tells me that my greatgrandmother used to have one of these immersion baths in her house when she was growing up. Women were supposed to bathe in them after their periods had ended, my catholic great grandmother respected the mikveh traddition more than I ever have.

(I wish I had photos from that specific house but this happened over ten years ago, I'll show you some immersion baths from a different colonial houses that are also in my city)

Now how about we talk about traditional clothes. I'm sure most of you have heard of Ponchos, which are traditional in the Andean region, well the one from Antioquia is a little different and it's always supposed to be worn with a hat. Let's see if you can spot what I mean.

A few years ago Spain decided to grant citizenship to the descendants of the Jewish people that they had exiled in 1492. To get it you had to prove through family trees that your family had been Jewish. My city got the most ammount of passports out of everyone in the world, more than Israel. I could have applied from both my family that came from Egypt in the 20th century (we still have the keys to our house in Spain) or through my catholic side, as both of my grandmother's last names applied. I didn't but I could have.

I don't really know why I decided to finally write this post. I have so many more stories. I just think it's both incredibly sad that so much Jewish culture and people were lost but also it's a little heartwarming to see what survived even centuries down the line.

[spiderman2-99]

Día De Muertos is supposed to be a celebration. When the dead return home, the day is filled with festivals, family, home-cooked food, and the bright smell of marigolds.

But Miguel O’Hara has no family, is too miserable to leave the apartment, and all the marigolds have gone extinct.

They’ve been extinct since 2095, actually. How hadn’t he known? That should've been something he'd figured out sooner, right? But no, he finds out a week before the day itself while he’s trying to make Gabriella’s ofrenda.

What does his beloved baby girl, who he would’ve given the world a thousand times over, get instead? Paper flowers.

Paper flowers instead of real ones, possessions that represented her instead of properly being hers, a half-done altar that was done in a manic, grief-fueled haze.

It’s paltry. Miguel knows it is. But it’s all he can give, and by God, he hates it. He tried to make it up in home-made pan de muerto and fresh fruit and her favorite dinners, in the carefully arranged papel picado garlands, in finding actual copal to burn… but it’s not enough. It could never be enough.

It’s been a long time since he’d last made an ofrenda, actually. He fell out of the tradition sometime when he was in college, when he was young and unburdened and selfish and so, so stupid, and had convinced himself he had much more important things to do with his time than honor traditions.

Sometimes, he wants to reach out to that little twerp and beat him senseless.

No, he wants to laugh, or scream, or pull his hair out. It’s a sick joke; a cruel jab at his expense, that he only started giving a shit about his own cultural holidays again after Gabi died, when he could no longer share the homemade food with her, help her learn about the significance.

It feels so wrong, being unable to share this with his daughter. Having the altar be dedicated to her, instead of her helping him set it up; teaching her how to make the banners and arrange flowers and bake bread, entertaining whatever thousands of questions she’d have about the holiday and her great-great-whoever’s they’d be celebrating. What would she have thought of the chicken and chile rellenos? Of the Calaveritas? The toys he left out?

Hijo de puta. A parent isn’t supposed to outlive their child.

It’s a pathetic altar too, as far as he’s concerned. Miguel hadn't done this in so long that he'd nearly forgotten how to; having to go on the internet just to remember the guidelines. Even then, there were so many conflicting answers that it left him confused and flying blind the whole damn time.

Did he do enough as a father to honor her? Did the ofrenda do her memory justice? Did he do anything right? Is there enough salt to purify her body? Enough water and food to provide for her long journey? Was the copal actually supposed to be incense, or did it have a different meaning? Are the purple candles placed correctly? Would tissue paper marigolds, devoid of scent and life, be enough guide her safely back home?

These worries swarm like vultures to a carcass, picking at and tormenting him to the point where he can barely stand to look at the stupid, thrown-together thing any longer. He should know how to do this— today is much more than just a holiday; Día de Muerto and all of its rich traditions should be a part of who he is, steeped in his identity, his culture. It should be more familiar than breathing.

But now it just makes him ache, seeing how he couldn’t even properly commemorate his own little girl.

In a brief moment of clarity, Miguel realizes he really just should’ve just taken more time to research and plan it out better. If only it weren’t for the constant high-stakes responsibilities, the needs of far too many all on his shoulders, the people, people, people.

Not like he didn’t try; Halloween and all day yesterday, Miguel had been rushing uncharacteristically through work, trying to get caught up enough to take time off. But of course, God had it out for him and practically half the damn Society wanted to barge into his office to badger him about something. He ended up with a shock-ton of random gifts and baked goods on his desk that he’d unceremoniously pawned off to Peter B. (save for a bottle of Don Julio, but the other man didn’t need to know that), enough sanguine well-wishes to last him a lifetime, and high blood pressure.

And the time and effort he scraped up still wasn’t enough to get it done right. It could never be good enough. He could never be good enough.

Miguel can’t stop second-guessing himself, can’t stop that all too familiar spiral of guilt and self-loathing that rots away at his insides like necrosis. He’s a scientist and an engineer, for shocksake— logic and reason should override his emotions, should stop them from clouding him at all. But all he can do is sit there, staring at the sorry excuse for an ofrenda with a lump in his throat and a throbbing headache that won’t go away.

Today couldn’t have gone any worse.

His joints pop viciously as he gets up from the floor just to prove him wrong. Cristo en el cielo.

The only bright side to this whole thing is that… well, no one is here. No one to see his embarrassment, or his failure; no one to question him, or ask him how he’s feeling, or try to give a hug, or any more goddamn food. It’s just him and his ever-spiraling thoughts and the grief that threatens to consume him whole.

Carefully, with a trembling hand, he lights the incense, then the candles, the golden glow dancing around his otherwise dark apartment. It… almost makes it look better. Less like a broken down man’s sorry attempt at repentance and more like a proper ofrenda.

Almost.

Día De Muertos is supposed to be a celebration, filled with festivals, family, home-cooked food, and the bright smell of marigolds.

But Miguel O’Hara has no family, is too miserable to leave the apartment, and all the marigolds have gone extinct.

[hopeastrz]

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬; 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲🌻✨

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬!! 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝟏,𝟐𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐞!!💛💛

𝐋𝐞𝐨 in the 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° on the 𝐀𝐂

Everyone wishes the best for themselves, and you aren’t an exception, but without doubt you make it your life mission to have the most perfect looks. No one touches your hair, only the most elite hairdressers can, in other words and in a more general sense you’re really picky in your appearance, the way you present yourself to the world, physical body, beauty, presence, ambition, your outward behavior.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

Picky in the food you eat or cook, restaurants and cafés you go to, beauty products, perfumes, make up, just how you spend/manage your money in all aspects, you have the most expensive material possessions, like paintings, antiques, and also your music taste is quite unique, you only listen to specific chosen artists and songs!

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

Picky in the conversations you decide to take part to or listen to, picky to whom you speak to, picky in the thoughts that swarm your mind, picky in your transportations and your cars?, you may not like going to the subway. the ideas and informations you indulge in, picky in your cell phone brand, social media accounts, gossips and short trips you take.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟒𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐂.

Picky in your home decor, the place where your home is especially if you live alone, the neighborhood/ place of residence you chose may be quite luxurious, picky in your self care products, things that give you comfort, and maybe even with whom you decide to start a family with, also maybe you have a picky mother!.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟓𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟓𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

Picky in what gives you pleasure, places you go to for fun, your hobbies, arts, movies you watch, hair products?, games you play, places you go for vacations, concerts, festivals, carnivals, malls and cinemas, just open air places, and maybe even your boyfriends and short-term partners!.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟔𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟔𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

Picky in your self care, self care products, strict workout routine/workout place, you only go to the best gyms, picky in your hygiene products, in your workplace, daily routine, tasks, picky in your diets, in your pets, you pick the best food for them etc..

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟕𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐂 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

You’re picky in long term relationships, picky to those you chose to marry, picky in everything related to marriage, picky in people whom you’re attracted to, picky in your business partners, in your close associates and love affairs.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟖𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟖𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

Picky in sex, picky in your kinks, things you’d inherit, people you’re intimate with, picky with whom you share you secrets with, if you’re into astrology and taboo stuff in general you don’t share these topics with everyone, and if you ever let’s say book a tarot reading you only choose the crème de la crème of tarot readers.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

You probably went to one of the best universities, or like had an expensive college major, you’re picky in your beliefs, philosophies, languages and things you learn, also picky in the books you read, maybe even to where you travel daily too and media you consume.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐂.

One of my favorite placements to have in a chart, you’re picky in the career you pursue, salary, and your public image, meaning you take a good care in what you chose to display to the public, since you catch people’s attention easily, you’re also picky in your responsibilities and your professional matters/long term goals.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

Obviously picky with whom you befreiend, your friend group, close friends circle and even people you know on the social media, you tend to attract lots of famous and wealthy friends, I’m talking like meeting princess or actual celebrities. Picky in where you party, clubs you go to, you may be part of exclusive membership clubs or something, Picky in your desires, films you watch too, you have a very high manifestations, ideals and hopes, you dream big!

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟐𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 | 𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝟓°, 𝟏𝟕°, 𝟐𝟗° 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟐𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

Picky in whom you let get close to you, picky in your sleep/ sleep environment, you can’t just sleep anywhere, like you may need the place to be absolutely tidy, only sweet when there’s a sweet calming aroma wafting through the air, and on your silky sheets only too. Picky in your fears, picky in your hidden desires, who you chose to spill your past with.

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟓 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞!.

[vivelafranceblog]

Place du Général-de-Gaulle, Lille, France: Place du Général-de-Gaulle is an urban public space situated in the commune of Lille, Hauts-de-France region. It is the town's historic main square. The Place du Général-de-Gaulle continues to serve as a grand plaza for festivities, exchanges, and commercial activities, as well as various events of all kinds. Wikipedia

[onlyhereforthestories]

Christmas Morning Magic (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

And here it is, advents final day. What a whirlwind. I must say this really was a challenge but I hope you all enjoyed. Merry Christmas Eve

The first rays of Christmas morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the bedroom. You stirred slightly in bed, not fully awake but aware of the empty space beside you where Alexia had been. The faint sound of movement came from somewhere in the house, but your half-asleep brain didn’t dwell on it. Instead, you burrowed deeper into the warm cocoon of blankets, lulled by the peaceful silence.

Alexia, meanwhile, was on a mission. She had slipped out of bed early, careful not to wake you, and made her way to the kitchen. She grinned to herself as she tied an apron around her waist, her hands already reaching for the ingredients she’d meticulously gathered the day before. Today wasn’t just any day; it was your first Christmas morning together in your shared home, and she wanted it to be perfect.

Her plan was simple yet thoughtful: a surprise breakfast in bed, complete with holiday-themed pancakes, your favourite hot chocolate, and a little extra magic to make the morning unforgettable.

She started with the pancakes, whisking the batter with practiced ease. To give them a festive touch, she added a few drops of red and green food colouring, dividing the batter into two bowls. The result? A stack of cheery Christmas pancakes that made her smile even before they hit the pan.

As the pancakes cooked, the aroma of warm vanilla and butter filled the kitchen. She hummed softly to herself, occasionally peeking over her shoulder toward the bedroom door to ensure you were still asleep.

Once the pancakes were ready, she moved on to the hot chocolate. She heated milk on the stove, stirring in rich cocoa powder and a pinch of cinnamon, just the way you liked it. Whipped cream and a sprinkle of crushed peppermint completed the mugs, making them look as festive as they smelled.

Satisfied with the breakfast, Alexia turned her attention to the pièce de résistance: the mini Christmas tree she had hidden in the hall closet. She had spent hours the previous night creating personalized ornaments for it, each one representing a cherished memory you’d shared. There was a tiny soccer ball for the first game you’d attended together, a painted plane to symbolize your first trip, and even a little replica of your shared home.

She carried the tree into the bedroom with great care, setting it on the dresser before arranging a few other small decorations around it. She placed a garland of twinkling fairy lights along the headboard and a vase of fresh flowers on the bedside table.

Finally, she returned to the kitchen to assemble the tray. Alongside the pancakes and hot chocolate, she added a small bowl of fresh berries and a folded napkin with a sprig of holly for decoration. With one last glance to ensure everything looked perfect, she picked up the tray and headed back to the bedroom.

You woke to the sound of the door creaking open, blinking groggily as Alexia entered, balancing the tray carefully in her hands.

“Merry Christmas,” she said softly, her voice warm and full of love.

Your face broke into a sleepy smile as you propped yourself up on the pillows. “What’s all this?”

“Breakfast in bed,” she announced, setting the tray down on your lap. “Made with love. And maybe a little too much food colouring.”

You glanced down at the festive pancakes, your smile widening. “Alexia, this is amazing. You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to,” she replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s our first Christmas morning together here, and I wanted to make it special.”

You reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “You’ve already made it perfect just by being here.”

Her cheeks flushed at your words, and she leaned over to press a kiss to your temple. “Well, it’s about to get even better. Look over there.”

She gestured toward the dresser, where the mini Christmas tree stood twinkling in the soft morning light. Your eyes widened as you took it in, the carefully chosen ornaments immediately catching your attention.

“Did you really make those?” you asked, your voice filled with awe.

She nodded, a sheepish smile on her face. “I thought it’d be nice to have something that reminds us of all the moments that brought us here.”

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, abandoning the breakfast tray for a moment as you walked over to the tree. You picked up the little soccer ball ornament, running your fingers over its smooth surface.

“This is from the first game we went to together,” you said softly, more to yourself than to her. Your fingers moved to the painted plane. “And this, this is from Barcelona. Our first trip.”

Alexia watched you with a quiet smile, her heart swelling at your reaction.

“These are amazing,” you said, turning back to her. “Thank you. For all of this.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, pulling you into a hug. “But don’t think you’re getting off the hook. I have one more surprise.”

She reached behind the tree and pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box with a red bow on top.

“Alexia,” you said, your voice filled with playful protest, “we said no big gifts this year.”

“It’s not big,” she promised, handing you the box. “Just… open it.”

You carefully unwrapped the box, your heart racing slightly with anticipation. Inside was a delicate silver necklace with a single charm: a tiny snowflake engraved with the date of your first Christmas together.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, your fingers brushing over the charm.

“I wanted you to have something to remember this day by,” she said, her voice soft. “Something to remind you how much you mean to me.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you looked up at her. “You’re going to make me cry on Christmas morning.”

She laughed, pulling you into a tight embrace. “That wasn’t the goal, but I’ll take it.”

The two of you returned to the bed, where you shared the breakfast Alexia had prepared. Between bites of pancakes and sips of hot chocolate, you exchanged stories of past Christmases, laughing over childhood memories and marvelling at how far you’d come together.

Later, as the morning stretched into the afternoon, you curled up together under a cozy blanket, a holiday movie playing softly in the background. The mini Christmas tree glowed warmly in the corner, a testament to the love and thought Alexia had poured into the day.

“This,” you said, resting your head on her shoulder, “is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

She pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her arms tightening around you. “Mine too,” she murmured.