#buy Haitian

[haitilegends]

[darkgold]

I'm not earning income so I can behave just like the people that gave my parents such a hard time.

[neil-gaiman]

My old friend (and for almost thirty years my family's doctor) Dan Johnson has a charity he started in memory of his son, Alec, who was drowned in 2014. One of the projects they are supporting is helping a couple who work in Haiti with abandoned children (and aren't part of the Haitian "orphanage industry"). The couple are raising funds to buy the compound they and the children are in, and I'm helping Dan by linking to

[rederiswrites]

Look, I think if you're a US citizen you should go on Youtube and watch the debate, or at least some of the chunks of it where the topic matters most to you. You can't counter the arguments if you don't know what arguments they're making. And no, I don't mean arguing with your aunt that drank the conspiracy koolaid. I mean that there are genuinely a lot of people out there hearing what Trump is saying and thinking, "I don't know. That sounds really scary."

So know what he said, and know not just THAT he lied, but HOW he lied.

Sometimes, it's easy. There are no "abortions" after a baby is born. That would be uhhh let's see MURDER and it's already pretty illegal everywhere and absolutely no one is trying to change that. The comment Trump attributed to former VA governor Ralph Northam is completely misrepresented. Northam (whom I am not defending as a person, by the way) was commenting on the subject of *non-viable* pregnancies that represented a health risk to the mother. Nobody was talking about killing babies. Nobody. Not even Mr. Blackface.

Sometimes it's so addled that I'll leave someone else to unpack, for example, what the FUCK he was on about with the giving illegal aliens in prison forced "trangender surgery". Personally I'm assuming he just used the random word generator in his head to say something that sounded scary to him.

There is NO credible evidence that anyone, much less Haitian immigrants, is eating pets in Springfield, Ohio. Both government officials and the police say there's nothing to it. Springfield has had a huge influx of Haitian immigrants, and this is causing infrastructure strain and racial tensions. But again, people who would rather believe that a) legal immigrants are okay with *stealing your pets and eating them* and b) the entire police and gov't infrastructure of a town and the surrounding county want to cover this up, are not worth our energy. It's the people who don't know the truth and are worried that we want to reach.

And my guy, my man, Cheeto Benito, that is not how tariffs work. Tariffs are not magical free money that other countries just HAVE to give you. They're...they're not that at all. Look, I'm lazy so I'm just gonna quote CNN:

Here’s how tariffs work: When the US puts a tariff on an imported good, the cost of the tariff usually comes directly out of the bank account of an American buyer. “It’s fair to call a tariff a tax because that’s exactly what it is,” said Erica York, a senior economist at the right-leaning Tax Foundation. “There’s no way around it. It is a tax on people who buy things from foreign businesses,” she added. Trump has said that if elected, he would impose tariffs of up to 20% on every foreign import coming into the US, as well as another tariff upward of 60% on all Chinese imports. He also said he would impose a “100% tariff” on countries that shift away from using the US dollar. These duties would add to the tariffs he put on foreign steel and aluminum, washing machines, and many Chinese-made goods including baseball hats, luggage, bicycles, TVs and sneakers. President Joe Biden has left many of the Trump-era tariffs in place. It’s possible that a foreign company chooses to pay the tariff or to lower its prices to stay competitive with US-made goods that aren’t impacted by the duty. But study after study, including one from the federal government’s bipartisan US International Trade Commission, have found that Americans have borne almost the entire cost of Trump’s tariffs on Chinese products. To date, Americans have paid more than $242 billion to the US Treasury for tariffs that Trump imposed on imported solar panels, steel and aluminum, and Chinese-made goods, according to US Customs and Border Protection. [link]

Also though you should watch the debate because Harris was an absolute savage and it was genuinely HUGELY entertaining to watch her mercilessly bait Trump in every answer she gave, and watch him take the bait every. fucking. time.

[zepskies]

Show Me - Part 1

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader || Sam Winchester x Eileen Leahy (background)

Summary: Dean meets your infamous ex-boyfriend at a fallen hunter’s funeral. You just forgot to mention that he’s a hunter as well. Maybe because he still has the power to get under your skin…in the worst of ways.

AN: Another story for the Espresso-verse! This is set after “Devour Me,” and plays on plot threads in “Midnight Espresso” and the flashbacks in “In Bad Weather.”

Word Count: 3,100

Tags/Warnings: Angst, body shaming, body insecurity, protective Dean.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 1: “Objects Are Closer Than They Appear”

Hunter funerals aren’t supposed to be lively affairs.

Alicia Jackson is special, however. She’s known so well throughout the hunter community that news of her death creates a kind of reunion at her mother’s house after the funeral, not unlike Asa Fox’s wake last year.

Even you had known Alicia, though not particularly well. You met her through Eileen. They’d called for your help on a ciguapa case a few months ago, and ever since, Alicia had insisted on buying you a beer anytime she was in town.

So today, Sam and Dean are really supporting you and Eileen by coming along.

Alicia’s mother, Martha, is a lovely Haitian woman in her late sixties. Her house is modest, but welcoming. She’s a gracious host to have so many rough and tumble hunters in her home.

The wake is mainly gathered in the backyard, where plastic tables and chairs have been set up. Most of the hunters have collected into groups of the ones they know, sharing stories, laughing, eating, and drinking.

You’re in the kitchen with Martha, as you’ve offered to help her put out some more beers on the table outside. The smaller woman falters for a moment when she glances at a framed picture of her daughter on the wall. Alicia was beautiful, with coal-dark skin and soulful brown eyes she’d inherited from her mother.

You end up holding Martha’s hands in comfort when she nearly crumbles again. Your heart breaks for her. Even if you hadn’t been that close with Alicia, you’d hope that someone would take care of your own mother in a situation like this.

“She just has so many friends,” Martha says, with a tearful chuckle. “I never realized…”

“We try to look after each other,” you reply, smiling. “Everyone here knew your daughter, if not personally, then by reputation. And guaranteed, all of them have at least one good story to share.”

Martha nods. Somehow, she’s able to smile through her tears as she pats your hand. 

After spending a few more minutes with her, you predictably find Dean by a long table of hors d’oeuvres and desserts.

“Babe, you gotta try these mini quiche. They’re delicious,” he says, after popping another pastry into his mouth. You can see that he’s eaten nearly a whole tray while he’s been waiting for you.

“You realize we’re at a wake, not the Golden Corral,” you lightly tease. He shrugs.

“Still gotta eat, right?” he says.

His capacity for food knows no bounds, but you love him for it.

You glance over at Sam and Eileen chatting with a small group of hunters under the shade of a tree. They’re sitting close together at a picnic table. Your lips form a subtle smile, and you lean in close to Dean.

“Look at your brother, being a supportive non-boyfriend,” you say. They’ve been loosely “dating” for weeks, though you aren’t sure they’ve put an official label on what they are together.

Dean’s expression turns both fond and amused. “Think they’ve sealed the deal yet?”

You glance over at him. “What do you mean?”

“You know…” Dean waggles his brows suggestively. You do know what he means, and you playfully smack his chest. Mostly to stop him before he starts making lewd hand motions.

“Come on, that’s none of our business,” you reply. Inside though, you’re wondering the same thing.

Dean spies the look on your face and smirks.

“See. You’re curious too,” he says. He gestures at your face with the same hand that holds a bacon-wrapped cocktail weenie. You have to raise a hand to fend him off when he tries to veer it into your mouth.

“Don’t point at me with your sausage,” you quip.

“Funny. I’ve never heard that particular complaint outta your mouth before,” he smirks.

He eventually gives up on feeding you and eats it himself. His warm gaze is still on you though. You start to blush.

“Again, we’re literally at a funeral reception,” you say, despite your growing smile.

His gait becomes more flirtatious as he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Like I said. We still gotta eat, don’t we?”

You splutter laughing, though you attempt to contain it behind your hand. Dean’s chuckle resonates through you when he pulls you in by your waist. His thumb brushes your hip. He’s not so much into PDA, and certainly not as “touchy” as you, but this much will do for now. You lean into him in turn.

He finishes off his umpteenth hours d’oeuvre and sets his nearly empty beer on the table. After letting loose a barely stifled belch, he mentions something about finding a bathroom.

“Dogs are already barkin’, huh?” you tease.

“Yep,” he freely admits, patting his stomach. “Give me five minutes…or ten.”

He squeezes your arm in parting before he takes off down the hall at a purposeful pace. It leaves you to contemplate the mini quiche.

Damn, they do look good. You bend over the table slightly to peruse your options, when a familiar voice drawls behind you.

“Still got a fat ass,” he teases.

You freeze. Slowly, you straighten up, and you turn to blink in surprise at the man who stands there, holding a beer and wearing a playful smile.

Yours is polite at best as you try to get through your shock.

“Carter,” you blurt out. What the hell are you doing here?

He greets you with an incline of his head. The way he says your name is both familiar, and a little unsettling.

You cross your arms and lean back on your heels. “You knew Alicia?”

“We tangled a few times,” Carter replies with a nod. His smile laces with a bit of innuendo, but his eyes have just enough heaviness to convince you that he really did have some kind of relationship with Alicia.

Oh, Ali. You could’ve done better, you think. You wish you’d known that tidbit of information when she was alive. You would’ve warned her.

“I’m sorry for your loss then,” you say. Carter nods again. A silence falls awkwardly between you two.

“Is that all we’re gonna say to each other?” he asks. “It’s been…what, a couple years?”

“Almost four,” you supply. You and Carter had ended just a few months before you met Sam and Dean, a little over three years ago now. You and Dean hadn’t started dating until last year.

“All right,” Carter says, rubbing at his chin. His gaze roams over you with a slight smile. They take you in from your high-heeled boots and jean-clad curvy thighs, to your green blouse, laced loosely in the front. You’d decided to dress a little nicer for the occasion.

“You know, you look the same,” Carter says. His head tilts. “But different somehow.”

You raise a brow. “Different?”

“Yeah, like…” He draws closer and leans on the table beside you. He sips at his beer. “Confident. Like you’re not hiding yourself anymore.”

He mimics the hunch of a turtle in its shell.

“You used to be like a little mouse sometimes,” he adds with a light chuckle.

You know he means to be teasing, but you’re not laughing. If you’re not hiding anymore, it means you’re not trying to bury yourself under shapeless clothes, along with much of your inner self.

“Don’t you think that’s a little tight?” he’d asked you once, before you two went out together. It wasn’t the first time. (And it wouldn’t be the last.)

“I’m just saying,” he would often say. “You might feel more comfortable in something a bit looser. Cover these up a little.”

You remember how he’d squeezed the softness around your sides or your stomach. You also remember a well of anxiety in your chest that had made you feel almost grotesque when you’d studied yourself in the mirror afterwards.

Objects are closer than they appear…

You remember agreeing with him. Changing clothes. Drowning yourself in crewneck shirts and breezy buttoned-downs. Always wearing pants and baggy shirts to bed. Thinking all of this was to make you comfortable, and not the man who didn’t really love you.

So now, you give him a passive look as you take Dean’s forgotten beer and finish the last sip. Carter wears a hunter’s red plaid over jeans and his old leather boots. His blonde hair is shaggy around his ears, his face a little rough with stubble, his eyes still a deep blue.

He looks exactly the same. He probably is the same.

He’s right about one thing though. You’re not the same.

“We’re not in the profession of hiding,” you finally reply. “Guess I just got tired of it.”

Carter seems to sense your shift, and maybe, what you’re really saying. His smile falls into contemplation. He crosses his arms.

“Did I spot you with one of the Winchesters earlier?” he asks.

You nod. “Yeah, that was Dean.”

Before you can add the boyfriend part, Carter whistles lowly and shakes his head.

“I’d steer clear of them if I were you,” he says.

You quirk a brow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Those two are walking hurricanes of bad luck, blood, and mayhem,” Carter says.

“You don’t even know Sam and Dean,” you counter. Your voice is sharp and your brows knit together in thinly veiled irritation. “So I suggest you shut your mouth and steer clear of me.”

You set the beer bottle a bit hard on the table and mean to brush past him. You spot Sam and Eileen again, still sitting in their same table under the tree. You aim to head over there to wait for Dean, but a hand wraps around your arm.

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t be like that,” Carter frowns.

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you tell him. You’re discreet in the way you try to twist your arm out of his grip. You glance around to make sure no one’s watching you two. The last thing you want to do is make a scene here, but Carter is being a stubborn ass.

Even though you manage to wrench out of his hold, he grasps your hand next to stop you from pulling away. He looks down at your hand, brushes his thumb over your skin. His gaze looks heavy, almost melancholy.

You know that funerals tend to bring out the sentimental shoulda, coulda, woulda in hunters, but you think he might be looking back on your time together with rosier glasses than he ought to be.

“Look, I'm sorry. Can’t I at least get you a drink? We can catch up,” he says.

“Consider me caught up,” you toss back. Frustration begins to set you on edge. “I don’t know why you’re pushing this. I mean, God, we weren’t even good together.”

At that, his grip tightens on your hand. Confusion and denial cross his face.

“That’s not true,” he protests.

Unbidden, you’re forced to remember the weeks you and Carter spent in Miami, where you’d met him. You remember how he’d convinced you to leave with him after his hunt was done, and to leave your family behind. A decision you regret to this day…

You lean in closer just to whisper hotly. “You know it is. We didn’t have a relationship. We had a transaction, in which you liked what I could do for you. But you never loved me. You never even really knew me.”

At that, his hold finally loosens in his shock. You take the opportunity to slip your hand out of his. Another familiar hand rests along your lower back, and a firm wall radiates warmth behind you.

“Hey, party people,” Dean says. He gives Carter a “pleasant” smile, and you a more genuine look. You okay? it says.

You let out a subtly relieved breath and nod. “Hey, was just gonna go check on you.”

“I’m good,” Dean says. He looks over at Carter, whose expression has cooled considerably. Still, Dean inclines his head. “Hey, man.”

“Yeah,” Carter says. His tone is bland, until his gaze slides back to you.

“Don’t tell me you’re shacking up with this one now,” he says, leveling a finger at Dean. Then he gestures across the lawn, over at Sam. “Or is it the former anti-Christ over there?”

Both you and Dean bristle. Your temper has a thin fuse right now, and while you still don’t want to make a scene, you might have to make an exception.

“Why don’t you remember where the hell you are and have some decency,” you hiss. “Do us all a favor and fuck off.”

Once again, you try to walk past him. This time when Carter grabs you, it’s because he smarts at you getting the last word. A sharp breath escapes you, and Dean intervenes with a firm, warning grip on the other man’s wrist.

“Hey, you wanna act right, before you make yourself a problem?” Dean says. His face is relaxed, but behind his eyes are a very real threat. “I got no issue laying you out right here, in front of all your buddies.”

Carter has a moment of indecision. He notices a few pairs of eyes drawing their way, and so he lets go of you, even as he sneers at Dean.

“Shove the Prince Charming bit, asshole. She ain’t a damn princess,” Carter snaps. “She don’t act like one, and she definitely don’t look like one.”

You roll your eyes at his spite, but Dean can’t quite let that one slide off his back. 

His grip tightens on Carter’s wrist as he pulls him in. He pats Carter hard on the back and smiles as if they’re old friends. But really, it just gives him the vantage point to speak lowly near the man’s ear.

“All right, douchebag. Keep talking shit. I’ll bet that’s how you’ve gotten this far in life,” Dean says. “But touch her again, and I’ll break every damn bone in your hand. And maybe, I won’t stop there.”

He tilts his head, so he can see the glimmer of intimidation hidden well behind the other man’s eyes. Then Dean lets him go. He turns and lays a hand at the small of your back. The two of you fall into step together while walking across the lawn in the backyard.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say quietly.

Dean frowns and notices the way your gaze has lowered. His hand moves around your waist and squeezes to get your attention. Without him realizing, it just reminds you of the way Carter used to point out the thicker curves on your body.

Cover these up a little.

“Hey, you okay—”

“I’m fine, Dean,” you say, easing out of his hold.

It leaves him feeling unbalanced, and a bit put out. Dean remains quiet as he follows you over to his brother’s table.

“Are you all right?” Sam asks you, discreetly, but with concern. The wake is coming to an end, and by now Dean has filled him in on your run in with your ex, Carter Hall.

You give Sam a nod and a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, I'm good,” you reply.

Dean is quiet. He stands beside you with his hands in his pockets. Eileen has invited you and Dean to join her and Sam at a nearby bar to keep the evening going with a few other hunters, but this has already been one hell of a day. You’re ready to make the long drive home and call it a night.

Eileen’s also agreed to take Sam home (eventually). You notice how they share smiles, how Eileen ducks her head with the beginnings of a blush. You’re happy for them, even as you and Dean part ways with a more stifled silence on the way back to the car.

It’s late, and it’s cold. You walk beside him with your arms crossed, just to brace yourself against the windchill eating through your jacket. You glance over at your boyfriend and feel a measure of remorse for the way you brushed him off earlier. You have a feeling that’s part of the reason why he’s quiet, giving you your space.

You decide to close the distance. You sidle up closer and curl your arm around his. Your hand slips into his as well, threading your fingers together with Dean’s.

He looks over at you with a slight raise of his brows. His lips quirk at a smile, and his hand tightens on yours. You’re able to give him a more sincere smile in return.   

“Can I tell you something?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Dean says.

You look up at him and bite your lower lip. “I’m starving. I never did get to try those quiche.”

It only takes a moment for you to devolve into a quiet giggle. It’s infectious, and Dean laughs with you.

“Okay, we’ll stop somewhere,” he nods. Though his eyes widen in realization. “Damn, that means you haven’t eaten since, what, this morning? Before the funeral?”

You mentally count back the hours, and you have to agree with a sheepish nod. Dean shakes his head in disapproval.

“Come on, sweetheart. You should’ve said something.”

You shrug, even though you know he’s right. Your free hand curls around his bicep, and you lay your head against his arm. He looks down at the top of your head and heaves a sigh, despite his lingering smile.

Though the peace you’ve brokered is soon interrupted.

Dean had to park down the road of Martha Jackson’s house. Two cars down is Carter, who’s about to climb into his old Honda Civic.

Damn. He’s still driving the same piece of shit too, you note. His head raises, and as if he knows he’s being watched, his attention turns toward you and Dean. You don’t allow yourself to react, other than staring across the way, directly at Carter. You wait until he looks away first, opening his door and getting into his car.

You expel a breath and brush your thumb over the back of Dean’s hand.

“Let’s go,” you say.

Dean nods. He guides you toward the passenger side of the Impala, but his gaze lands beyond his car, to the Honda still parked and warming up. He finds Carter’s gaze through the front window for a moment.

It’s Carter who once again breaks first; he revs the ignition and peels onto the street, and down the road past them without looking back.

Dean's lips curve. Bitch.

Shaking his head, he rolls his shoulders and rounds the car towards the driver’s side.

He’s more than ready to go home.

AN: *sighs* Okay, originally this story was going to be a one-shot, but it just got too damn long. Let me know what you think of Dean finally meeting her ex-douchebag, Carter.

Part 2 (coming next week) will include all the angsty hurt/comfort and smut to come...

Next Time:

“I’ll just speak for myself then,” he says. His hand trails lower... “If you need me to remind you how beautiful you are, how goddamn sexy…then I got no problem showing you.”

His hand moves down the soft slopes of your body and comes to rest at the curve of your waist. Hearing your faltering breath, Dean pulls back so he can see your face.  

“Let me take care of you for a change,” he says. His lips pull at a grin, and it makes you smile in turn.

You take his face in your hands and bring him down to you for a kiss, languid and a bit devouring. It makes heat lick up Dean’s spine.

“Okay,” you whisper, close to his lips. “Show me.”

Keep Reading: PART 2

🎙️ Want to listen to the whole story narrated in podfic form? Check it out:

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

as someone who grew up in the d.r. AND was a weirdo obsessed with anime and manga (mmm had an emo phase but lets not talk about that…) ur fics healed my inner child ;-; i legit cannot express how much my family clowned on me for all my special interests ESPECIALLY whenever i would visit my cousins in the philippines….i was fighting for my life i swear

OMG IM SO HAPPY TO HEAR THAT

As someone with Haitian parents, my family is always teasing me in what I watch. I mostly watch anime or cartoons, or I read comics, and my mother is like...

"Why don't you read something real cooley?" which irks me, because the stuff that happens in these stories is stuff from real life, but I just prefer them more. As someone who begs their mom to buy them anime merch and T-shirts, or anything DC to Marvel, it's a struggle. I used to have chuunibyou syndrome, in which I acted all edgy and dark and brooding in middle school, or as my friends like to call it, the dark age. It was really cringe, but honestly, I had so much fun. I look back at it with laughs, even though I had nightmares about the time I wore a cape to school. I don't know why they didn't bully me yet! lol

[jewish-sideblog]

I know it’s No Jews, No News but I’m genuinely shocked that I’ve never seen anybody talking about the US-backed invasion of Port-au-Prince, which was recently extended by at least another year. The US has put up $370 million for a multinational military deployment to take control of the Haitian capital.

This isn’t the first time the US has done something like this— in the early 1900s, Citibank engaged in a hostile takeover of the entire country’s financial system, including the massive colonially-imposed Haitian debt to the French government. This eventually lead to a nearly two-decades long US occupation of the country in the 20th Century. Naturally, this was followed by decades of political instability and authoritarianism. Then in the 1990s, the first democratically elected President of Haiti suggested that the US and France should pay reparations for the literal billions of dollars of debt that had been forced on them. Those countries (allegedly, but also almost certainly), responded by organizing a military coup, intentionally destabilizing the Haitian government again, and then directly invading Haiti again.

I’ve never seen anybody outside of Reuters and the AP talk about the current invasion of Port-au-Prince. The militia gangs that have taken over Haiti have killed hundreds of thousands of people, and a poorly planned US-backed military intervention is probably just going to escalate tensions and prolong violence. People say they want to bring attention to mass senseless death, colonialist histories, and funding for military oppression in foreign countries, but I’m really not buying it. Those things aren’t just happening in the Middle East. They’re happening in literally every continent across the globe. Only the outrage is selective.

[rockofeye]

This is Not Okay.

(I see your asks and I am working through them, promise)

In the last few years, I have generally kept quiet on the amount of unpleasantness that has come bearing the title of Haitian Vodou. I am not the Vodou Police and people have a right to be wrong and make (sometimes terrible) mistakes. Additionally, people genuinely do not want advice or feedback when their mind is made up and they have found what they think is the real deal for them, and that's okay. I don't need or even want to get involved since folks are presumably adults making adult decisions, and I don't need to invite myself to any/every fight where my name is not invoked...or even when it is!

And yet.

Sometimes, it's too much to stay quiet because silence can get people really hurt, or worse. While folks are entitled to their mistakes and entitled not to educate themselves or do due diligence on the people they are granting access to their heads, there's just something that doesn't sit right with me when it's egregious. Long time followers know I have only spoken directly once or twice.

This is egregious, and it's going to get someone killed:

I have received this at least 5 different times today and have had folks genuinely seeking the lwa ask if this is a solid option. I do not know the person behind this and I would hope this is some sort of massive misunderstanding on their part. However, even so, this is awful.

Let's break this down a bit.

Advertising an initiation right off the bat with how many spots you have available says that you are not concerned with who comes in the door or why they are there. Advertising initiation as something to buy is weird even without the bargain basement 'FIVE SPOTS AVAILABLE'. Sosyetes do not need to advertise and recruit; folks come by reputation and general attraction to what the sosyete does.

The fact that there is no information about what sosyete is mounting this is a red flag. No one can undertake initiation alone. It's impossible because the very mechanics of initiation require folks from outside your lineage to come and verify that the work is being done completely and in accordance with the general principles of the religion.

Trying to cast doubt on other places as a way to build credibility is gross, and it is super ironic that they are advertising this as an answer to scams and people who do gross things. Do those things happen? Absolutely. Is this the way to solve it? No. Grift cannot neutralize grift. This is grift.

The big blinking neon red flag sign is the kwakwa/asogwe hybrid initiation. This is not possible and communicates several things, the largest of which is that this person has not received appropriate guidance in either rite because even the most barebones education tells you that this is not possible and could never be done.

Further, this communicates a lack of respect for both rites. The balls it takes to decide that you are going to take it upon yourself to change a religious practice and throw a bunch of stuff in a blender to come up with something new is WILD. This is outright spiritual arrogance that ignores the place of elders, culture, history, and the actual revolution that birthed these things.

Claiming that a person will receive everything they need in one step is lacking in clarity and breaking from the culture of Haitian Vodou, tchatcha and asogwe lineages alike. That is not how initiation works; the process of initiation unfolds over days and weeks and the process of becoming a competent manbo or houngan unfolds over years and even a lifetime. No initiation is a drive through endeavor and should not be treated as such.

'Without the worries of ties to a spiritual house' tells me this person lacks rootedness and perhaps ties to a spiritual house of their own, which is sad. It is not possible to be a manbo or a houngan in any lineage without ties to a specific lineage/spiritual house. It's not possible. Every lineage of Haitian Vodou is based on the lakou, or the compound or yard that a family and community is built around.

What lakou we are associated with tells our stories and gives us our roots, whether we are Haitian or not, or related to our lineage head or not. These stories are vitally important, we cannot function without them and we cannot take Haitian Vodou out of the context that it exists in. We are collectively built from the story that our spiritual ancestors told themselves when they dreamed of liberation and undertook the truly revolutionary action of revolt against French colonizers.

Trying to undo that to package initiation as something unrooted and without community is a slap in the ancestral face and is impossible. It's not Haitian Vodou. We do not stand alone. If you have no community, who will endorse you as a houngan or manbo? How will anyone know you actually are one? I can give you the names of a dozen priests who were active participants in my initiation and can confirm that I have the right to hold the asson. If you have no spiritual community, you do not have that...and you do not have the right to hold the asson.

Learning is different in Haitian Vodou; we learn as we develop and there is no initiation that grants you the immediate access to the inside of your initiator's head. Info farming is not a thing. We learn as we develop, which is why relationships and community are so important. Going through an initiation doesn't give you all the knowledge. Initiation doesn't even teach you things, you learn after because during the process you do not have the right yet to know. Framing all of this as withholding information shows a lack of cultural fluency. Do people withhold in ways that can be harmful? Sure, because there is fault everywhere....but this is not how you solve that, at all.

Most asogwe receive their po tèt; some take it home and some choose to keep it in the temple they were initiated in. Some houses have specific regleman around that, and there are individual circumstances that would keep someone from having theirs but those are instances that people would work out ahead of time. Further, if someone is not comfy with what the lineage they are initiating into does with po tèts, that it something to work out before they initiate, which is why discernment is so, so important.

There are not multiple kolyes given during initiation. In an asogwe lineage, a kolye is made during the initiation process for you specifically and it is large and worn on the body in most places. We do not receive kolye for individual lwa nor are they consecrated in separate ceremonies; this is directly taken from Orisha traditions.

A kwa kwa and a bell are not an asson, and genuinely only a fool would try to bring that to Loko, the progenitor of all asogweman. You cannot mash things together and say they are an asson because you want them to be, or that Loko will give it. I can't even be charitable about this, it's straight up wrong and completely unethical. No one does this. No one.

'Head seals' is wild and someone is going to get hurt. The job of protecting the head is with the lwa, not in the hands of someone doing work. Further, a correct and complete initiation precludes the possibility of problematic possession because the lwa are there to sort that out. Additionally, taking it upon yourself to 'seal' the head a child of Ginen in the name of Ginen is awfully arrogant...are you really going to say you can overstep the lwa and/or do a better job than them?

The work of initiation is incredibly delicate because you literally have someone's head in your hands. People can die when things are done incorrectly, either in the moment or in a long and winding road of calamity. Every single manbo and houngan I know has a story about this. We know what happens when things like this are undertaken because we've either watched the fallout or had people come to our doors in deep suffering because incorrect and inadvisable things have been done to them.

Paying for any initiation through Etsy should speak for itself. That is not how houngans and manbos do business.

What is unsaid in this blurb is that this is undoubtedly happening in the US, because it would never be allowed to happen in Haiti. This says a lot and it's a giant can of worms to open, but when have I avoided that? Initiation does not happen in the US for a lot of reasons. Some folks want to say it can, but it really can't. This is not the post to get into why and I can write more on that later, but that's the long and short of it.

Perhaps finally, my friend Sankofa made a really astute point in another forum: beware anyone in any African Traditional or African Descended religion trying to sell you something ceremonially unique. Our ceremonies are largely the same for big reasons, and an individual saying they are doing something new, like mixing tchatcha and asson or initiating you to your dead ancestors and putting ancestors on your head, is a massive red flag. This is not how culture and traditional religion function. This is not what the ancestors built for us, and this is not what we pass down.

Please, please be careful with your heads. I meant it when I said that people will die because of stuff like this. Please be discerning about who you trust with your head and your life. Take your time and see lots of ceremonies. Pray. Listen for the voice of the lwa which can sound a lot like your intuition. And, for the love of Ogou and Metrès Danto, don't buy initiations on Etsy.

I hope the person behind this post can reflect on what they are doing and re-evaluate their choices. In a perfect world, they would consult with their elders and their mama/papa kanzo for guidance and really, really listen. If they don't have elders and/or an initiator, they should refrain from offering things like this until they do. Different choices can always be made, but spiritual work done out of ignorance, malice, or greed that harms someone can never be taken back.

[sailorssims]

Santiago "Sainty" Laurent for @neishroom

Aspiration: Goal-Oriented

Traits: Genius, Party Animal

Favourite Colour(s): Red & Blue

Likes: Rocket Science, Video Games, Snowboarding, Jazz, Hip-Hop & Latin Music — Cerebral & Spirited Sims

Dislikes: Bowling, Gray, Metal Music — Ambitionless & Homebody Sims

If you want to revitalize your social life, Santiago Laurent is the one to seek. He's someone you'll often see at most of the town's events: house parties, school rallies, club meetings, town fairs, you name it! His Haitian-Dominican parents are very loving and supportive, but also always busy, meaning Sainty can slip away to do what he wants all the time. Though he will try everything once for the sake of new experiences, he will automatically dislike something once he realizes he kinda sucks at it. He's HATED bowling since he was a child for this exact reason. His most recent fascination revolves around everything space related; the young epistemophile just made his parents buy him a telescope so he could study the wonders that illuminate his nights.

[bijoumikhawal]

This is being done to restrict the movement of Haitians back into (as well as out of) Haiti. Due to the capital's airport being inaccessible due to violence, many have had to go through DR. DR has also been attempting to block Haitians from building canals that would solve issues with food insecurity that the US and DR have helped create. That insecurity has also caused Haitians to travel to DR to buy food and attempt to bring it back, though this often results in food being seized and destroyed.

[gryficowa]

Remember to boycott!

You know what pisses me off? Classically radical feminists (TREFs) are silent about the fact that in Gaza prisons, Israeli women (and men too) rape people to the point of critical condition, but what can we expect from bigots who lie about supporting women's rights when they hate trans and non-white people?

In addition, they spread racism towards black men (Yes, radical feminists do this shit and also attack black women, because, as you know, they hate trans people, and black women often have a male build… You already understand where this is going…)

I'm a left-wing feminist and TREFs disgust me (And if you don't agree with their bigotry, you have a penis, yes, their misogyny shows beautifully…)

Yes, this is an angry post, radical feminists smell like people from "Vote blue, because Trump will be worse"

It's just a random rant, but I just had to get it off my chest

Now that I have your attention:

[preparing4god]

can somebody buy these bundles 4 my bday that’s comin inna week please? please please buy me these bundles i am begging please i gotta do my hair bro inna couple of days cus it takes me days 2 do my hair. i will give u a kiss i will give u a hug i will give u my love i will give u my lung. please can u buy a beautiful black haitian women on black history month sum fuckin bundles? please buy jenny her bundles. it’s not too much😪 dm me. i have bills 2 pay not enough 4 bundles please guyz

[xshingie]

Pairing: Edouard/Annette Rating: T Prompt: Pining/Jealousy

Chapter-Specific Author commentary:

Uh... originally I just wanted to write a simple, fluffy oneshot of Annette in a karabela dress (this draft pre-dated Season 2 so I at the time, I wasn't even sure if Annette would even wear a dress, since S1 her dress seems to be more on the practical side). However, as I began writing, I began questioning the logistics of what was or wasn't available while Annette and Edouard were living in the mountains, or how maroons lived in general, really.

The original *~*~vision~*~* was to have Annette wear this dress and perform in the Vodou ritual and Edouard watching Annette dance and he falls madly smitten for her oop, but of course that got shot when I did more research and there's an attire you're supposed to follow. However, I got way too attached to the idea of cute Annette in a dress to scrap the entire thing, so here we are...

I did take some creative liberties on what materials were and weren't available, as well as postulating what their sleeping quarters might have been probably more nicer than what it actually was.

I've done a lot of reading of Haitian maroonage and demographics since then... and here are some elements that made it into the fic (there's so much more I have, just couldn't fit it all in!)

...

General Location and Geography

Annette mentions 'being taken to the mountains.' As established, Cap Francais is the city that Edouard was in (the Comedie Au Cap theatre), and the eventual location of the August 1791 slave revolts (as depicted in the show), If we examine the topography, a 1784 map shows Cap-Francais surrounded by mountainous terrain.

P.S. For the exact location of the Comedie Au Cap. If you zoom in, you can see right next to the government building, the Salle de Spectacle, or Performance Hall.

Sunday markets in the major towns like Cap Français were opportunities for blacks – free, enslaved, and runaways alike – to converge and interact, buying and selling food, and exchanging services. Note that Cap-Francais due to its dense urban population, were known for blacks to pass as free people of color (forging their own freedom documents), as well as serving as "safe houses" for runaway slaves to take refuge in.

In the map (left), it is readily apparent the relative concentrations of how many slaves escaped to Cap-Francais. For example, the neighborhood of Petit Guinée in Cap Français was a regular destination for runaways to find housing, lease themselves out for pay, and blend in with the growing population of free people of color.

The Bois Camain Ceremony, which is the Vodou ceremony we see represented in the show. Historical accounts of this ceremony note it was led by Cecile Fatiman (depicted from the show) and Dutty Boukman, both priestess (manbo) and priest (oungan). I decided to namedrop Dutty in just for fun, only because it didn't feel right to pluck a random name from the slave runaway advertisements.

Note the actual exact location is still up for debate. Many accounts point to somewhere near northern town of Morne-Rouge (present-day Vaudreuil, Haiti). Present-day, the contemporary Bois Caiman historical site in Vaudreuil, Haiti is ~10 km west of Cap-Haitien.

Population Demographics

At the peak of the revolution, Saint Domingue (later Haiti), which had 500,000 slaves, 32,000 whites, and 28,000 free blacks (which included both blacks and mulattos). Slaves made up 9/10ths of the population, with 500K+ african slaves being imported to Haiti alone in the last 50 years leading up to the revolution.

Enslaved Demographics

Men disproportionately made up the escaped reported runaway slaves and the maroonage.

Men were also more likely to occupy artisanal labor positions that allowed them a certain amount of latitude during the workday. Examples like coopers, carpenters, shoemakers, fishermen, and other artisans ran errands, apprenticed and were leased by their owner to other plantations, or hired themselves out to earn their own money.

Conversely, enslaved African women in Saint-Domingue were overrepresented as field workers and performed the most physically taxing jobs and under constant supervision. Because of the relative mobility enslaved men could have, this partially explains the overrepresentation of men for escaped slaves. Skills enslaved women acquired usually include seamstresses, laundress, and acting as market vendors selling goods.

In a study of 12,857 slave runaway postings, men made up 80%, or ~10K. Nègres - African mother + African or Creole man; Mulâtres - biracial (often coerced relations between white men); Griffe - 2/3 black. Quarteronne - 1/4th black.

There were many facets which may partially explain why women were so underrepresented as runaways, as women often had work within the constraints of society to pass as free, as well as the reproductive burden enforced on them.

Maroon Life and Struggles

The tl;dr -- trying it rough it out there in the wild was tough as shit and Maroons had to get creative in navigating the geographic topography and utilizing the terrain to their advantage. For example, one group of the maroons situated themselves in the mountains within the cusp of Saint-Domingue and Saint-Domingo (the portion of Haiti owned by Spain), such that they took advantage of murky ambiguities of "who's problem is this" territory. Retreating in the mountains also obviously disincentivized slave catchers to trek up there.

Due to the difficulty of accessing finished goods (clothing, glassware, etc) and weapons to arm themselves, maroons across the Caribbean had two ways of sustaining their supplies: engage in skirmishes/raids against plantations, or choose to engage in trade. Maroon settlements also tend to have varying success regarding based on how well-established/populated they were (some settlements were like, as little as one person in a swamp); some even forming agreements with governments to form peace treaties or even partake in catching runaway slaves to sustain themselves. The more established and successful settlements were able to cultivate crops even and keep domesticated livestock for food.

In the late 18th century, following the 1750s, the growing demand for land to support plantation agriculture, driven by the booming sugar and coffee industries, made it increasingly challenging to find and establish maroon settlements (see: the figure where in the last 50 years leading up to the revolution, over 500K african slaves brought to Haiti). This expansion encroached on existing settlements and threatened the safety of any remaining secure territories.

Daily Life and Personal Items

Archaeological dig sites efforts across 3 Haitian Maroonage sites yielded ~9000 artifacts in total, with the most common being pottery shards (making up 30-50% of the finds), porcelain, glassware, tobacco pipes fragments being the most common. It is likely that finished goods like imported pottery suggests that they were purchased by slaves from local markets, hinting that slaves did travel to markets to procure the needed finished goods not readily available.

Domestic animal bones that were also uncovered like pig, cow, sheep/goat, wild bird, and fishing weights/marine shells also hints at hunting. fishing for sustenance depending on the geography.

Other materials like hand-made-bricks, mortar, and nails.

Other less common items were uncovered, such as items for personal adornment or leisure/craft activities. Instances hinting to clothing fragments atypically in possession by the enslaved (i.e., a button belonging to a gentleman's sportscoat or frock) were also discovered.

Maroons were known to make hut-like structures from mud and leaves.

Other random things that came up in my fic

Zabeth is a name I sampled from a runaway slave advertisement who ran away alongside someone else Cecile. (Probably not the same Cecile Fatiman, though!)

The maréchaussée were the police responsible for catching runaway slaves, and was required by free men of color to serve a three year draft; or a passageway for mobility/options for free men of color who found themselves otherwise strapped for opportunities. I can only imagine, if Edouard was indeed subject to the draft, how that must have hurt his soft heart!

Ounsi temerè (fearless ounsi) is the highest degree that a Vodouist can reach without actually becoming a priest or priestess.

How Did Edouard Fit Into the Maroon Life?

While writing this, I had to do a little bit of speculation/guesswork on how Edouard might have fit into the maroonage life, based on what skills Edouard might have possess already, within the context of what skills men/women had and contributed to maroon life. I speculated based on some additional details on belonging we see in the flashback:

Detail #1. Everybody is wearing white during the Vodou Ceremony, Edouard is not.

The presence of white clothing suggests a Rada Rite; the ounsi (the vodun initiates) wear all-white robes at Rada ceremonies and make up the choir. Note that many of the depictions or historical accounts of the presence the blood of a sacrificial pig during the Bois Caiman ceremony seem to suggest it is a Petwo rite. as Pigs are sacrificed in the Petwo rite but not in the Rada rite.

Now realistically, the artists/animators decided to depict them wearing simple garb and white clothing may just be the fact that realistically, they weren't able to procure more fancy clothing.

In addition, it's also possible that this was just an animator oversight and the animators chose to depict Edouard per his character art reference sheet. Still, this tells us that Edouard was not initiated in the Vodun religion, which may hint that he might not have been as intimately tight-knit and integrated.

Detail #2. Edouard is singing by himself. No one joins him.

In the aftermath of the revolt, Edouard is showing singing Il mio tesoro intanto and he's pretty much clearly alone singing and while everybody is really chill about, I just found this detail funny because if there ever would be some celebration in a group, they would be singing creole songs as a community and it's unlikely anybody would be able to join him here since only he would have this super niche classical opera knowledge.

However, the more likely explanation of this is that whoever was directing this scene (that one opera fan) wanted their vision actualized and that the piece selected adds to the thematic elements. Still, I decided to leverage this detail into my writing when thinking about how Edouard might feel about how he fits with the other escaped slaves.

Sources and Further Reading:

Eddins, C. N. (2021). Rituals, runaways, and the Haitian Revolution: Collective Action in the African Diaspora.

Mapping. (2022, November 2). In The Streets of Le Cap. https://streetsoflecap.com/mapping/

Lockley, T. (n.d.). Runaway Slave Colonies in the Atlantic World. Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Latin American History. https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780199366439.013.5

Explore the sites. (n.d.). National Museums Liverpool. https://www.liverpoolmuseums.org.uk/archaeologyofslavery/explore-sites

Haiti: The Bois Caiman Meeting of 1791. (n.d.). http://faculty.webster.edu/corbetre/haiti/history/revolution/caiman.htm

Duffy, J.-C. (2021). Early accounts of the Bois Caïman ceremony. Miami University - Empire and American Religion. https://sites.miamioh.edu/empire/files/2022/08/1791-Early-accounts-of-the-Bois-Caiman-ceremony.pdf

“Demographics of Saint Domingue,” LIBERTY, EQUALITY, FRATERNITY: EXPLORING THE FRENCH REVOUTION, accessed January 31, 2025, https://revolution.chnm.org/d/500.

Bromley, C. J. (n.d.). Resistance and the Haitian Revolution. Slave Resistance: A Carribbean Study. Retrieved January 31, 2025, from https://scholar.library.miami.edu/slaves/san_domingo_revolution/individual_essay/jason.html

Phelipeau, R. (1784). (Cap-Haïtien) Plan De La Ville Du Cap Francais. Barry Lawrence Ruderman Antique Maps Inc. Retrieved January 31, 2025, from https://www.raremaps.com/gallery/detail/49958/cap-haitien-plan-de-la-ville-du-cap-francais-et-de-ses-env-phelippeaux#

Hebblethwaite, B. (2011). Vodou Songs in Haitian Creole and English. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. https://muse.jhu.edu/book/12835.

Maroons and their Communities in the Americas. (n.d.). Politika. https://www.politika.io/en/notice/maroons-and-their-communities-in-the-americas

[odinsblog]

Do not read this if you don’t want to hear straight talk.

Let’s get this straight up front: I am NOT a fan of Joe Biden. I don’t believe that he’s “the greatest most progressive president since FDR,” and I do not buy any of the other hype that DNC sycophants are selling. Biden has a lot of problems. On the border; and on immigration for Haitians and other non-white non-European immigrants; he fundamentally changed (for the worse) how and where asylum seekers can apply; he is absolutely positively deadass wrong on Israel, and he has even more issues than I’m willing to go into on this “short” post. A lot more.

That all said, I fucking hate Donald Trump and I do not want to see him in office again. Anything you can say about Biden you can say 100x worse about Trump. Everything gets worse with Trump. Everything.

If Democrats wanted another candidate, the 2020 primaries was the time for doing it. So now, less than four months before the election, we stick with the person who the DNC crammed down our throats when we very obviously had other viable options. It’s not only too late for changing horses midstream, but it’s just plain old stupid. Like the video said, what’s the fucking plan?

In contrast, look at how united Republicans are:

And all of those white nationalist, Christofascists are not only strongly united, they are all voting for Trump.

Meanwhile, Democrats are l i t e r a l l y out there using Trump’s biggest argument against Biden and arguing for a replacement as we approach the finish line. There is a reason the primaries are held so long before the general election - to give the public time to unite behind the candidate. Who is the public supposed to unite behind in less than 100 days? Because the Democrats can’t even agree on that all-important issue. Many DNC insiders don’t seem too keen on nominating a Black woman named Kamala Harris (and I’ve got issues with her too), but if not her, then who???

(SN: no, this isn’t the part where your favorite third or fourth party candidate with zero name recognition shows up and saves the day)

Not to mention, there’s a long ass list of legal challenges over who gets Biden’s war chest if he drops out now. Those challenges will not be resolved in 100 days.

So yeah, as far as I’m concerned the DNC didn’t listen to their base and stuck us with a clunker in 2020, and now they wanna get a new car? NO! What the hell happened to “be pragmatic”? What happened to “better than Trump”??

Look, I’ll wrap this up. I don’t like Biden very much. He IS too old and everyone knew he was too old in 2020, but right now, at this particular moment in time in this timeline, he’s what we got to beat Trump. And if Biden’s doctor pronounced him braindead and gave him five months to live, I’m exactly just petty enough to still vote for him anyway. My only motivation is to stop Trump, and if Biden is the last worst option for doing that, then so be it.

Finally, please try not to reblog this by adding, “Vote Blue”. That’s the annoyingly vapid rhetorical equivalent of saying, “shall not be infringed,” and it isn’t even an argument, it’s a slogan specifically tailored for people in your echo chamber who already agree with you — not something you would say if you wanted to convince people or to change their minds.

JFC, I can’t believe y’all really got me outchea actively advocating for Joe Biden.

[azspot]

Springfield, like many similar cities, had been suffering from a declining population and economic stagnation when it joined a number of other Rust Belt cities in an effort to actively recruit immigrants to settle there. The town fathers may not have had 12,000 Haitians in mind, but that is what they got—and the results were pretty good: Contrary to the rhetoric you hear from Vance et al., employment went up, not down—and wages went up, too. In fact, Springfield handily outperformed nearby Dayton—and the country as a whole—in wage growth coming out of the COVID-19 downturn. And where population is increasing and wages are rising, some things—notably housing—will typically get more expensive. The Haitian newcomers, who are in the main legal immigrants under “Temporary Protected Status,” do use a lot of social services—those who are eligible have made heavy use of programs such as Medicaid—but they also work a lot of hours and put a lot of money into real estate, buying houses and commercial properties to start businesses of their own.

The Exotic Cat-Eaters of Springfield, Ohio

[tanadrin]

Why do people keep claiming that eggs have tripled in price? Eggs have not fucking tripled in price! Maybe if you're talking about some beautiful organic brown eggs, cage-free and free-ranged, and packaged in velvet. But I've been buying eggs for years, and my eggs have not tripled in price. Is this like the Haitian pet-eating thing, and people have been saying it so long that they don't believe their own lying eyes anymore?

Oh, I missed that claim. Yeah, that's straight-up false. The BLS has a chart for this one. There was a big price spike around the time of the shortage, then the price went back down, and now it's gone back up a little, but on average they're up a dollar from 2014.