the race is not for the swift

here is a new j2 story.

HAH. bet you thought i was away at DCU forevers! not so!

( Danse Fambeaux )

A/N: j2, about 40000 words, nc-17. you should read this story while playing this music. this story would not have been possible without papa jim's botanica of san antonio, texas, and the dedicated listening and beta skills of cee, jim, katie and sets. some particulars of actual voodoo have been deliberately changed so as to avoid inadvertent offense to the gods. any inadvertent offense to humanity is complicated, but nevertheless deeply regretted.

a/n the second, april 2010: i wrote this fic a long time ago. i worked hard on it, and it came from a place of love - i tried hard to respect the people who came from the places i was going in the story, and to portray them realistically and fairly. in the end they'll be the judge of how well i did. however, at the time i did not understand that what i was doing with the premise of this story is called cultural appropriation. thanks to some good (and extremely patient) friends, i've come to understand that, putting it simply, it's impossible to tell good stories about people of color when your main characters are white. and setting your story entirely in someone else's culture when your story isn't about them is basically stealing.

i never set out to be a thief, but i sure as hell feel bad for having done it, now that i get it. i'm leaving the story up as is because by now it's public record - you can't really delete anything on the internet - and i'm hoping that adding this disclaimer will help people like i used to be, who love the idea of these places and just don't understand that white folks can only visit. for more info on cultural appropriation, visit the hub of all human knowledge: wikipedia. they have a good overview, and some links down at the bottom that'll help put it in context. to anyone i hurt with this story, you have my sincere apology.