I love witchy Tumblr, I do, but I feel like a lot of the witchcraft reflected on this platform is very Eurocentric. Which is a great place for starting out and has helped me out personally so very much, especially when it came to connecting with the Norse gods. But! I feel it’s time for me to divulge more into my culture…that being Mexican brujeria and I couldn’t really find any posts about it, so I decided to make my own!
So a background I guess. Brujeria just means witchcraft in Spanish. It’s that simple and really rolls off the tongue for me. When I’m speaking to fellow Spanish speakers, I simply call myself a bruja. (Disclaimer: I am not fluent in Spanish by any means! I’m a guera and I’m sorry…)
So, I’m really hoping to share some of the superstitions I know and maybe how they can be used to power spells and such. I may get stuff wrong and since a lot of this is based on my own personal experiences, I don’t have any sources really. Please feel free to correct me or bring your own spin on things! I’m always down to learn more about my culture!
my husband and I went on a trip to Hawaii last month. our precious spawn stayed home with my in-laws and we took off on what turned out to be one of the best trips of my life (could be tied with our honeymoon, in fact.)
anyway, at the airport before we left for Hawaii, there was this adorable young family much like ours (mexican/brown mama, hip white daddy, adorable, feisty toddler girl.) while waiting for the plane, the little girl began to raise a stink and that’s when the parents showed us what’s up. that’s when the parents taught me how to discipline (read: threaten) a toddler.
up until this point i’ve been a bit baffled as to how to discipline our 2-year-old. i mean, yes, i’m a mexican mom, but i don’t think i’m ready to introduce my kid to traditional latino-discipline – aka mi mano y mi chancla (HOLLER IF YOU HEAR ME!) so while i was eavesdropping on the father i heard him tell her, VERY ominously, “DO YOU WANT ME TO CALL THE COO-COO-EE?” that’s how he said it. COO.COO.EE.
i nearly died. not just because his pronunciation was so awesomely awful, but because, oh my god, this guy referred to the boogie man i knew as a kid. and his daughter responded by knocking it the fuck off. it was awesome. so i noted that my kid needed a lesson in the cucuy.
when we got back home (after a blissful week in Oahu), my kid began hearing threatening references of the cucuy. and she responded almost immediately. she just heard the scared tone in our voice and shaped the fuck up.
example - it’s dusk, getting dark, and i am trying to talk my kid into coming inside for a bath. since i don’t want to grab her and haul her ass in, kicking and screaming, in front of the neighbors (because, parenting rule 17: appearances are everything), i lean in close and say “maggie, if we don’t get inside before it gets dark, the cucuy will come looking for you…” and she stands up, grabs my hand, and hauls her little diapered ass inside.
that’s what i’m talking about.
so now we’re in business. my kid can respect the (empty, but not in her mind) threat of the cucuy, and i can parent without negotiating with the terrorist that is my 2-year-old.
and then today happened.
while i was washing the dishes (side note: my best blogs come after doing the dishes because i muse about the crazy shit going on around me while scraping melted cheese off of dora’s face.) right. while i was washing the dishes my daughter runs into the kitchen with a big smile on her face and says “cucuy!” then she takes a few steps back and says “HIIIIII CUCUY!”
i repeat what she said to make sure i wasn’t hearing shit, and she nods and laughs. like it’s a fucking joke.
the following is my thought process:
“hold on. does she think I’M the cucuy?! no. no fucking way. i’m mama. what? wait. no. oh my god is this some sixth sense shit going on? does my kid see the fucking cucuy? OH. MY. GOD. IS THE CUCUY HERE?!”
then i realize this cucuy shit has officially backfired. it’s essentially my kid saying, “checkmate, mom. check. MATE.”
but what she doesn’t know is that what i’m about to say is, “MEET. MY. CHANCLA.”
Was reminiscing on the lullabies my mom use to sing to us about the boogeyman coming to eat us and another one about asking for bread and not giving it to us and then asking for cheese and instead give us a bone and having it stuck on our throats.
I REQUEST YOU ADD SAERAN TO THE LATINA REQUEST CAUSE I NEED MORE SAERAN IN MY LIFE
I N E E D MORE SAERAN IN MY LIFE TOOOOO
- Admin Abby
• He high key loves your cooking
• He loVES MEXICAN SWEETS
• he was triggered when he tasted a Mexican candy and it wasn’t sweet.
• he was like ?????
• he loves flan
• for some reason he really likes Selena songs
• he really likes the song Dreaming of You by her
• whenever you aren’t in the mood and he’s being a little sarcastic shit, you aren’t afraid to launch a chancla at the back of his head.
• once you told him about the el cucuy (the boogeyman cx) and he was like wtf
• lowkey scared because of all the stories you told him
• When you have kids he tells his kids about the el cucuy so they won’t misbehave
AN: Okay so I got the idea to do this while I was looking up this old Mexican urban legend El Cucuy, and someone in like a comments section was talking about how they were told that El Cucuy was another form of the devil, and that he’d choose one girl to dance with at a party and then take her to hell with him and I was like ooooooo so now we have a nice little one shot!
Word Count: 2.2K
Summary: Kylo Ren finds himself fascinated by (Y/N) (Y/L/N), a senator from Naboo. Fortunately for him, he finds the opportunity to watch her from up close when he finds out that she frequently attends the parties of some of the biggest socialites in the galaxy. Deciding to go in disguise, the night ends in a way that neither of you predicted.
The night air was still, but beginning to chill as you made
your way up to the pavilion where the elegant party was being held, a tent
hanging high over the party-goers, covering them from the stars in the night
sky. The glow from the top of the hill was warm and familiar, soothing to you.
These parties were nothing new to you, and were in fact something you reveled
in as you interacted with senators and royals from nearby planets. They all
knew you, always wanting to talk with the most frequent party-goer. Reaching
the top of the steps, you walked into the tent, the elegant shawl you adorned
alongside your ornate dress resting comfortably in your arms, revealing your