#zempasúchil

[patatanocturna04]

Hace mucho que no escribo, deje mi diario, deje de pintar, no he hecho una escultura en casi 8 meses, se murieron mis plantitas, me siento muy vacía.

Quiero volver a ser yo.

[me-gusta-la-soda-compartida]

[ceaselessbasher]

*kicking my feet up in the air and twirling the phone cable between my fingers* And I'd take her out for walks in the park, and I'd bake her apple pies, and I'd give her bouquets of zempasúchil, and I'd sing La Llorona to her, and I'd call her mi catrina preciosa

[this post is about the anthropomorphic personification of death do not derail]

[fabycolette77]

happy day of the dead!, drawings of the roulette winners! 🍂🍁🌼💀 ° ° feliz dia de muertos !, dibujos de los ganadores de la ruleta! 🍂🍁🌼💀 ° ° #dayofdead #diademuertos #zempasúchil #cempasuchil #mexico #ninjagocole #coleninjago #ninjagodayofdead #colehence #colebucket #colebrookstone #ninjago #avatar #avatarthelastairbender #zuko #princezuko #zukoprince #principezuko #myheroacademia #bokunoheroacademia #deku #dekumyheroacdemia #izukumidoriya #anime #ninjagoanime #avatarzuko #fabyart #fabyarte #fabycolette77 #fabycolette https://www.instagram.com/p/CHGSK9yJfxG/?igshid=zr0y3pna071p

[pcrfide]

He counts his days, counts his time. It’s about 76 days away til the holiday he takes to remember those he’s left behind. The irony is not lost on him as he plants the seeds in the small planter box. The soil is lovingly kneaded, the small bits of plant carefully covered. Black and white, black and white, gol

In five days, they will break free- and in ten, sprout. 

In twenty days, he’ll have a lush series of plants ready to be potted and begin to spread their little roots all over for nutrients and water. In thirty, they’ll strengthen and grow up until they’re only about eight inches high before they spread out. And in forty, they’ll flower- these zempasúchil.

Every year, Alejandra’s mother gives him the seeds to grow his own and every year- he comes to California to spend as many weeks here as he can to tend to these plants, watching them grow from seed to sprout, from sprout to flowering plant. 

And every year, the pots are brought down to the little bakery- the young girl laughingly teases him about his broken Spanish and godawful accent as she helps him decorates the baked clay. And every year, he stays those extra twenty days- putting in work at the bakery to help until it’s time to bring those bright gold and orange blossoms to where they belong. 

-----------------------------

But this year- this year, he’s aching and hollow. 

His motions are slow, and tired- steps dragging a little as he makes his way down the sidewalk, a batch of sweetbreads in a bag dangling from his wrist. Brightly colored papel picado streaming banners loop everywhere, turning the normally adobe and brick city into something that looks festive and bright. There’s singing in some spots, hymns and catholic chanting in pulpits and by fountains. 

There’s guitars and accordions, drums and singers in others- a strangely mournful cacophony that manages to be cheerful despite it. The people here, like it’s city- tend to be a mix of the living and the dead, the mourning and the cheering, the bustling and the quiet. 

The space between the heart and the beat.

Every year they offer him a space on their own ofrenda for his loved ones, but every year he turns it down in lieu of the one he makes for himself out of broken wood and old cinderblocks in a forgotten cavern outside of the city. Gold and white candles with their flickering flames over photos long since turned sepia with age and bad ink. 

Flanked with those golden zempasúchil- reminding them how to find their way home. 

Ana and Reinhardt- Fareeha swinging on Gabriel’s shoulders. Jesse laughing with his hand on Genji’s shoulders, who glowers into a photo. A birthday party, a candid moment with Blackwatch half asleep from a long mission. 

The Strike Team in repose. 

Winston at his computer, lost in the beauty of an equation. Angela with a foam ring on her lips, savoring a coffee after an all-nighter. He smiles as he counts down the memories, a wrapped package beside him. There’s one more ghost he has to hunt down. One more thing he has to do, but it’ll wait until it’s time. His heart is a tired, bruised thing- beating despite the dents in it’s armor. 

The ghost is not his, never has been- but nevertheless has hooks somewhere in his ribs, despite the fact he wishes it wasn’t so.

And in the nest of it’s wrapping, the statuette with it’s black wings unfurled- the scales. 

A feather.

And a heart. 

And in the dimness of the cave, the silence of the dusty and dry wind outside- a soldier idly wonders just whose heart it might be. 

He’s tired of carrying these memories around, but he clings to them regardless because if he doesn’t- who will remember them? Who will make sure that they aren’t forgotten? Who will make sure that they have a way to cross over, that they can be back home for one more night. It’s silly to think of something that way, but these little moments- these little traditions he’s made for himself. Little rituals and little habits- they’re all he has left.

 Still, the heart on the scales beckons him, and he picks it up- feeling the weight of the sculpted stone. It warms in his palm, leeching from his body. So many things said, so many things he’ll never say. It’s easy to understand, he thinks- the point of burying your feelings until death. The heart is placed back within the bowl of the scale, and he touches the fine detail work. He only wishes his own were that sturdy. 

And that strong.

But he’s only human, and in the end- that’s all he ever was. 

He supposes that’ll have to do.

--------------------------------------

@quodmessorem

[saoirsewolf]

Hanzo Shimada has a cold

Hanzo Shimada doesn't acknowledge his cold

Hanzo Shimada is forced to acknowledge his cold when his sneezing and coughing give away his position

Hanzo Shimada still covered in blood and guts is gifted a pretty yellow flower on the way to the pharmacy

Hanzo Shimada buys cold medicine and a sugar bread because why not

Hanzo Shimada downs the entire bottle because he's a heathen and also he doesn't care

Hanzo Shimada faceplants into a plate filled with sugar and crumbs

Hanzo Shimada takes a long nap / Hanzo Shimada sueña con pequeños alebrijes cubiertos en sangre y azúcar y pétalos de zempasúchil

[miguelcocofangirl]

Hi @morskijez00!! The cempasúchil or zempasúchil comes from náhuatl words cempohualli = "twenty" and xóchitl = "flower/petal" Cempasúchil means 20-petal flower, aztecs used the number 20 to refer to things that last, for example their "infinite" was refererd as 20x20=400. This flower, as the legend says, was created after a young couple used to go to place some flowers on the mountain of the god of sun, Tonatiuh. When the war came, the boy (called Huitzilin) had to go and after a while he died on battle, the girl (called Xóchitl) received the news and asked Tonatiuh to free her from her pain and let her reunite again with Huitzilin. Tonatiuh was grateful for all the flowers he had received from them before and transformed Xóchitl in a flower with the color of the sun and then a hummingbird came, it was a reincarnation of Huitzilin, and when he touched her, she released an intense fragance. The legend says their love will last as long as there are cempasúchil flowers and hummingbirds in  México. Also, Xóchitl is a femenine name still used nowadays, while Huitzilin is the náhuatl word for hummingbird. As this flower represents a forever lasting love, and all the warm of the sun, it's used to guide and light the way of those we love with its fragrance. That's why it's used in the Ofrendas for Día de Muertos. Hope this helps!

[bydanielaflores]

👀Tagetes erecta, llamada comúnmente tagete, y conocida en México como cempasúchil, sempasúchil, zempasúchil, cempoalxóchitl, cempaxóchitl, cempoal o zempoal (en náhuatl: sempôwalxôchitl ‘veinte flores’) es una especie de la familia Asteraceae, nativa de México, donde se encuentra en estado silvestre principalmente en los estados de Chiapas, Tabasco, México, Morelos, Puebla, San Luis Potosí, Sinaloa, Tlaxcala, Oaxaca, Jalisco, Hidalgo, Veracruz, Yucatán, Campeche y Quintana Roo; en estos últimos tres estados a la flor se le conoce como x’pujuk (en maya; ponúnciese como ʃpuhuk). También se encuentra en los países de América Central. Pese a su origen mesoamericano, en inglés es conocida como African marigold (margarita africana) o como French marigold (margarita francesa)..... https://www.instagram.com/p/CVn09PcLkOc/?utm_medium=tumblr