#racoon supremacy

[boostyboot]

Previous craft sale I participated in

[multifariousqueer]

Hi! Um if is possible I would like to ask for a request about Miles Morales with a reader who has a past like or similar to rocket racoon.

AHHHH OFC! Imma do this head cannon style bc I live for Headcannons

Warnings: trauma, abuse, manipulation, mentions of blood and grief, rocket raccoons upbringing, angst, minor fluff

You wouldn’t talk about it and he wouldn’t push. He understands that if you can’t speak about it, he won’t force it

If you get in a situation like rocket in GOTG3, then he would do everything he could to make you better

If y’all faced the High Evolutionary, he would rock his shit fr

If anyone hurts his girl, he’s gonna kill them

if you tell him about it, he would have a hand on your back and listen intently

He might gasp or make a small noises but thats about it, he lets you speak

Miles seems like he would be crying by the end of it

"How could they be so evil to someone so sweet"

Will give you space if you need it

If you show him the scars you have, he would run his fingers along them gently

“do they still hurt?” “no, they’re mostly healed"

Will leave small kisses along the scars when he can

Will always remind you how beautiful, strong and smart you are

“Mi Amor, you’re so strong and I promise, that will never happen again. I’m here now"

Miles would kill himself before he lets you go through anything remotely similar again

Will just stare at the scars but tries to play it off so you aren’t uncomfortable

Holds your hand and stares at you lovingly whenever you explain your past

Cringes when you describe it in vivid detail

All in all, Miles is very understanding of your trauma and if you didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t push

Miles supremacy 🫶🏽

[fraternum-momentum]

maybe youre a racoon? думайте...

RACOON SUPREMACY !!

[damian-al-ghul-wayne]

RACOON ANON DO YOU BELIEVE IN THE BRITISH DAMIAN WAYNE THEORY SUPREMACY -🌺

I'll turn my asks off if you say yes

[gestasch]

Bruh why i do love cute character alot 😭😭😭 and i fall in love with Stelle, baby racoon girl baby baby Stelle 😘 muah cool brave girl supremacy

No why can't I be like my friend whom collect ikemen handsome boi.. But pull cute character asjdkfkfkggkk!!

I wanna fanart her in future... I love her mature voice.. I love his funny personality, damn damn cool girl

[faux-ee]

I posted 3,543 times in 2022

That's 2,736 more posts than 2021!

737 posts created (21%)

2,806 posts reblogged (79%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@kyouka-supremacy

@colourofthekites

@grishaverse-chaos

@chenechen

@akhlys-san

I tagged 1,669 of my posts in 2022

#fyolai - 51 posts

#dabihawks - 50 posts

#bsd - 33 posts

#bungo stray dogs - 19 posts

#personal - 18 posts

#spotify - 17 posts

#asks <3 - 16 posts

#bkdk - 14 posts

#soukoku - 13 posts

#sskk - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#it was so unfeeling and repetitive and like. sir. i can’t relate to ur experiences and u aren’t doing a very good job making me care abt it

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

bungo stray dogs is a piece of media thats so filled with tumblr energy. Its like a collective mass hallucination of famous author fanfiction with just the right amount of derangedness, mental illness, generational trauma and existential crisis. Each and every character gives major gender envy. Everything is enemies to lovers to enemies to freinds to lovers to enemies. Everything the characters do is high-key illegal and everyone agrees that old guys in the government r useless except for this one triple spy who's sleep deprived to a fault. There is a guy who is chronically online and absolutely cannot leave his futon. There's another guy who could write novels in days and is more attached to a racoon than the rest of the world. bram stoker listens to spotify. bsd is the true tumblr-esque media.

Edit: and as it often appears bsd characters become each other's blorbos. They wanna hug each other they wanna see them going through the undying pain of human existence they spin them around in a mental microwave or smth

Edit edit: also tumblrinas love literary analysis and bsd is full of literary motifs

420 notes - Posted December 4, 2022

#4

ranpoe actually foils fyolai bcs when poe had his mind set on killing ranpo he had a moment of realization that he wouldn't know how to live in a world w/o him, and several chapters after he became besties w/ ranpo, but nikolai already knows that fyodor is his intimate friend, there will never be another person like fyodor for him, yet still decided to kill him, bcs he "wants freedom more than any kind of joy"

434 notes - Posted June 29, 2022

#3

Kacchan is the only thing Izuku allows himself to have

and it's why Izuku’s always vague when it came to the intensity of his feelings about Kacchan & why Katsuki at first instinctively pushed Izuku away. 

idk if anyone has done this before, but anyways here's my fav aspect abt BakuDeku's relationship: Izuku's possessiveness over Kacchan and Kacchan only.

So I've been thinking abt Kamino a lot, and specifically two scenes: a) Izuku shouting "Give him back to me!" to Mr. Compress, and b) Izuku's devastated scream after Bakugo was taken away.

Izuku is an extremely selfless person, with only the heart for "saving people". That was part of the reason why he was almost immune to Katsuki's bad attitude towards him: dude doesn't think about himself a whole lot, alright. He's just kind of out of it. An observer. He wants to focus on his own feelings much less than he cares about others.

When have you seen Izuku do something for himself? Sure, he wanted to become a hero, he wrote 13 notebooks' worth of hero analyses. But this may as well only be an exertion of his obsession abt quirks & strategies, because despite all the talk about his dream, he never actually thought to exercise and improve his body strength before he got the OFA.

Here's an idea: Izuku doesn't know how to do things for himself, unless given a larger purpose. He takes little care of his own ambition before taking the world's weight onto his shoulders.

And he is subconsciously avoiding any selfish thinking, especially any private feelings he has about Kacchan, platonic or otherwise. 

He doesn't know what has triggered the blackwhip; can't remember what Kacchan told him before almost sacrificing himself to save him; doesn't remember whatever made him go berserk in battle. He acted like none of this emotional turmoil he experienced happened at all and went back to being this people-saving, smiling sunshine every. single. time. Even after Kamino, his first thought was Kouta, except that after Todoroki mentioned Katsuki, the light returned to his eyes and he finally broke down. 

Izuku actively avoids thinking about anything that causes strong emotions to erupt in him, yes, but more importantly, even when he is recounting these experiences to others, he omits whatever part that concerns Kacchan (i.e. when he told his classmates “I couldn’t save what was in front of me” - right, but Izuku, why are you describing Kacchan as if he is just anyone else instead of the person you have looked up to for all your life?)

He doesn’t allow himself to be selfish, to be partial, to treat Kacchan as somone special even when that’s what he does (notice how he’s always going like “Kacchan and the others”). 

Let’s look at what he said to Mr. Compress again: “Give him back to me!”

Didn’t he almost sound like a child who was robbed of his favorite toy? 

Why would he feel such possessiveness over Kacchan, though? 

Kacchan is Izuku’s Symbol of Victory, right? Izuku follows him, admires him, idolizes him (”closer to me than All Might, this amazing person in my life”). Here it is: Kacchan has been somewhat of an idol to Izuku, the incarnation of victory. 

Kacchan was part of Izuku’s definition of heroism; and heroism, to Izuku, is almost like a religious belief. He draws strength from it, uses it to cope with the pain of being quirkless, and admires All Might as one might do any deity. 

I’m going to go a little further here: when one prays to whatever deity one believes in, one is often praying to this concept inside one’s head, and taking what one needs from this private connection. Similarly, Izuku feels possessive over Kacchan because the latter to him is something of a god-like character, from the attachment to whom Izuku draws his desire to win. To Izuku, Kacchan is not just the Symbol of Victory. It’s his Symbol of Victory. 

Katsuki is his. His sun, his god, his drive to win. 

Izuku, who is so selfless that he rarely wants things for himself, doesn’t want to acknowledge that he can, in fact, be a little selfish when it comes to Kacchan. 

Meanwhile, as Mr. Compress had stated, Bakugo doesn't belong to anybody. And with such a big ego Bakugo would hate to be anything but independent. Something about Izuku made him want to keep his childhood friend at arm's length; he felt as if Izuku was stronger than him, looking down on him - and where does he get this feeling? Because Izuku offered to help him once at four? Stood up to him a couple of times?

There is another dimension to it, I think: it was also because Izuku had always followed him. And Katsuki, being the kind to always over-think, could mistake Izuku's possessiveness for Izuku seeing himself above him.

If an independent person ever finds himself on the receiving end of such possessiveness, he would feel chained, scared, and pissed off. Don't come, Deku, I don't want anything to do with you because the way you stick with me as if I belong to you, it almost chains me down. 

Thanks for bearing with my shipping brainrot xD

445 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

#2

B-B-Boyfriend? Like a guy who your body moved on its own for when he was in danger? Who you've grown up with? Activated a whole new quirk for?

550 notes - Posted March 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

being invested in bsd is such a unique experience bcs u watch the anime and think oh theres mafia and detectives and terrorists this shit's so hardcore and then u open bsd wan and they r kindergarteners and magical girls and princesses and ur just like. look at my cute little uwus <3 and then u read the manga and was hit with like three different schools of philosophical thoughts and suddenly become interested in classical novels with rlly deep themes and start to develop an existential crisis. its like yeah i watched an anime abt super powers and it all went downhill from there lol

993 notes - Posted June 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[swiftie-4-lifes-stuff]

I am Groot- Reviwe

⚠️ Spoilers ⚠️

1. First steps

- Cuteness overdose

2. Little guy

- cute fluffy thing

- He’s so cute and don’t understand anything

3. Groots pursuit

- His pajamas

- The Russian doll

- Dance battel

4. Takes a bath

- Rainbow sqirle

- I want that hair growth

- Love the dress

- Rainbow squirrel laugh

5. Magnum opus

- 5min craft should learn from him

- Rocket and groot= dad and son

- Dying of cutnes

I love it. Groot is my all time favorite marvel character so I loved every second of it.

100/10

[camilamortem]

Introducing Camila Mortem

House: Slytherin

Nationality: Mexican / British

Sexuality: Bisexual / Demiromantic

Personality type: INTP

Blood status: pure-blood

Patronus: Hypogriff

Animagus form: racoon

Biography

She was born in May 8 1973, in a pure blood family, with blood supremacy ideas but nothing that can't be redempt, (every time she said mudblood Rowan made her clean her mouth with soap until she stopped).

Her father becomes a deatheater to protect his family, her mother was a healer that constantly sneaked Order of the Phenix members into the Manor to help them with their wounds.

Because of the war Camila and Jacob spent most of their childhood travelling from London to Mexico lots, learning about prehispanic cultures and traditions, so is something that she has very present and is very proud of. While learning to talk both were taught English by their dad and Spanish by their mom. (Their grandma tried to teach them nahuatl but didn't succeed that much, they only are able to read it)

When Jacob received his Hogwarts letter they move to England definitely, where they were more introduce in the blood supremacy and taught how they should act in order to proud their family, and were raised with their cousins Leo, Ares and Apollo, the five of them sneak out of their places to Diagon Ally to avoid any lessons their family obliged them to take, there they would get in any store asking questions and being told stories by costumers and owners. When Leo and Jacob started at Hogwarts Ares, Apollo and Camila stop doing it (Camila's favorite place was flourish and bolt's).

While Jacob was at Hogwarts he told Camila many adventures he lived with Olivia and Duncan but she thought he was just inventing them for her to have good night stories.

Their mother was murdered mysteriously, but Jacob was convinced that R had to do with it, so he decided to leave, after an argument with his father and making sure Camila won't wake up when he left.

The first time she talked after her mum's death and her brother disappeared, was when she met Rowan, and the first time she laughed was when she share the compartment with Rowan and Ben on their first year, those are the memories she uses to conjure her Patronus.

[liz-crimson]

Y'all backtracked real hard on defending Jill being black in Welcome to Racoon City when they made your white male fav brown too

Anyway this is an Avan Jogia Leon supremacy blog

[malewifegradyruewen]

Ceux Qui Ne Meurent Jamais, Chapter Three

three chapters in three days i'm insane-

previous | next | masterpost

trigger warnings: overall creepy vibe, i was almost too scared to finish, that's why it stops so abruptly, i don't recommend reading late at night or in the dark, ask to tag

word count: 1715

tagging: @fire-sapphics @zoyyanazyalensky @dirty-racoon @della-vacker-supremacy @raiinyrxse @lucat13 @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @genyyasafin @cadence-talle @thewhiteblades @gay-otlc @brilliantblindinglights @enbies-and-felonies @love-pyramus @silver-war @pencilwritesshiz47 @littlemisscupcake lmk if you want to be added/removed!!

SLAM!

Nathalie awoke to the sound of what she assumed was a door slamming shut. The wind howled outside her window, making the panes rattle. She looked at the clock, but the room was too dark for her to see. She lit the candle that had been sitting on her bedside table and padded across the floor to look. Two-fifty-four.

Given the strong winds outside, a draft blowing a door shut was nothing too out of the ordinary, so Nathalie decided to return to bed. She started crossing back to her four-poster when she heard another SLAM! It sounded closer, as though the first one had been one of the vacant bedrooms at the far end of the hallway, and this one was only a few doors down. While it did seem odd, she didn’t think much of it. An old, empty manor could only withstand so much on a night as windy as this one.

SLAM! A third door slamming shut, this one stopping Nathalie in her tracks. It sounded as though this door was across the hall, the door to the only accessible room that was currently vacant. She turned around slowly and crept towards her door, so she could check the hallway and put her mind at ease before returning to bed. She reached out to grab the doorknob before she realised she was shaking. Maybe checking the hall wasn’t the best idea. But her curiosity got the best of her, and she kneeled down on the floor and laid down on her stomach, peering under the door. She couldn’t see anything, and after a few minutes she was ready to go back to bed, until she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

She could just make out a heavy pair of boots, walking swiftly yet somehow silently across the floor. She held her breath as the boots stopped right in front of her door. Her heart was pounding, louder than it ever had before. The boots moved closer to her door, taking one step, then another, before stopping once more. They turned and ran down the hallway, towards the vacant bedrooms.

Nathalie wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, on the floor next to her door, the only light the candle on her nightstand slowly dimming as the wax melted. Not another door slammed, though the wind blew ever stronger. Who was that, with the black boots, and why were they here? How had they gotten here? Her brain rattled with questions, like the panes clattering in the window frames. But there was nothing she could do about it tonight. She’d ask Lady Lucie in the morning.

Slowly, she got up off the floor and climbed back into bed, snuffing out the candle as she did so. Her heart was still racing and her head was still pounding, but as darkness enveloped the room once more, she couldn’t fight the exhaustion, and she slipped into an uneasy slumber.

-:-

Nathalie was awoken by the sun streaming through her windows, so bright it felt blinding. The house was quiet, the ticking of the clock the only sound. Nine-twenty-seven. Lady Lucie had said breakfast was typically at nine, but she’d make it fresh for Nathalie. She could afford a few more moments in bed before getting ready for the day.

Thoughts of breakfast and sunlight and the other ladies in the house distracted her for a moment, but it wasn’t long before her questions about last night’s events took front and center in her brain. Even now, she shuddered at the memory of the boots standing outside her door, silent on such a creaky floor.

She couldn’t bear to sit and wallow in memory any longer, so she instead climbed out of bed and changed out of her nightdress to an outfit nearly identical to that of last night, only the skirt was green and the blouse was white. She quickly untied the ribbon wrapped around the end of her braid and tied her hair into a bun, the same way she had everyday since she was a child. Slipping her grey shoes back on, she headed downstairs to the dining room they’d eaten in the night before.

There was no evidence anyone had used the dining room thus far that morning, but the door to the kitchen was propped open. Nathalie cautiously walked towards the kitchen, spotting Lady Lucie elbows deep in the sink. The clatter of dishes being plunged into the soapy water was loud, but it still seemed strange to Nathalie that her footsteps hadn’t been loud enough to alert Lady Lucie to her presence.

“Good morning,” she said, raising her voice so she could be heard above the dishes.

Lady Lucie whipped around, as though she hadn’t been expecting Nathalie. “Lady Nathalie!” she cried. “Good morning! Don’t mind me, just tidying up after breakfast! I left a bowl next to the stove for you, and there’s a plate of fruit and a bowl of sugar on the counter.”

She pointed as she spoke, guiding Nathalie to a pot of porridge on the stove. She groaned. After eating it nearly every day of her childhood, she despised porridge. The bland, tasteless mush was one of the worst things about Hazelford Children’s Manor. However, she couldn’t deny that her stomach was rumbling, so she took a small scoop and added several heaping spoonfuls of sugar before taking her bowl and the whole plate of fruit to the dining room. There wasn’t much on the plate, as the native berries were mostly out of season, but there were apple slices, which in Nathalie’s opinion, were the best of all the fruits. She reluctantly put a bit of porridge on the apple slice and ate it, delightfully surprised at her creation. No longer despising the food in front of her, she ate it as quickly as she could.

Partway through her bowl of porridge, Lady Lucie emerged from the kitchen and joined Nathalie. “I trust you sleep well?”

For a moment, Nathalie debated lying, saying that her sleep had been uninterrupted. Would Lady Lucie know if she lied? But she decided to ask about the heavy yet silent black boots last night.

“There were some doors that slammed last night. I don’t know if you heard them. They woke me up, and I saw something...strange.”

“Oh? Strange how?” Lady Lucie seemed surprised, though Nathalie couldn’t fathom how. The doors had been quite loud, and she wasn’t sure how anyone could sleep through them.

“There was...a person, in the hallway upstairs, I think. I saw, under my door, a pair of black boots, but they were silent.” She decided to leave out the part where they had walked towards her door, and had seemingly been called away.

Lady Lucie paled. “Le Cavalier de l'ombre.”

“The what?”

“Cavalier de l'ombre. A legend,” she said, jumping up. “Come, to the library, I’ll show you what I mean.”

Nathalie had no time to argue, because Lady Lucie had grabbed her wrist and was pulling her away from the table. She had no choice but to run to keep up as they wound through hallways, past closed off sitting rooms and boarded up doors, too many to count. Finally, they reached a pair of the largest doors Nathalie had ever seen, even larger than the front doors. Lady Lucie let go of her wrist to push the door open, not straining despite their size.

Had she not been terrified of what seemed to be imminent doom, Nathalie would have stopped and marveled at the library. The ceiling was three stories tall, and at least half of Hazelford Children’s Manor alone could fit in here. Bookshelves spanned from floor to ceiling, with two balconies wrapping around the entire room so books higher up could be accessed. There were at least a dozen ladders hung onto rods above the bookcases with small wheels at the bottom so one could reach any book they pleased. The highest balconies had small baskets on pulleys to lower books down while climbing down the narrow spiral staircases hidden in the corners. Grand chandeliers illuminated the room, along with the light streaming in the great stained glass windows directly opposite the doors, the only bit of wall space that wasn’t covered in books. Sofas, tables, armchairs, and desks were scattered about so that everyone had a spot to read and study, although there was a fair number of floor pillows as well.

But Nathalie had no time to marvel at these wonders as she was dragged up a spiral staircase and around a balcony until Lady Lucie stopped so abruptly, she almost fell over.

“Here it is,” Lady Lucie said breathlessly, pulling a book off a shelf at eye-level and flipping through it frantically. “Legends of the Ladies, by Lady Auriane. It’s old, maybe 12 cycles, but it’s one of the best when it comes to our lore. Here,” she said, settling on a page and pointing to the header. “Le Cavalier de l'ombre.”

She offered it to Nathalie, and she took it and started reading. “Le Cavalier de l’ombre is a figure who has no face, makes no sound, and leaves no memory of their visit. They travel in shadow, typically appearing at night to unsuspecting souls. Only appearing to the ladies of the order thus far, they seem to steal immortality, weakening the lady until she has no life left within her, so she meets her demise shortly thereafter. The ladies who fall victim pass with no knowledge as to how or why. No lady has been able to speak of how their immortality is stolen, but all can recall a sense of dread and a drop in temperature before their memory is blank. There seems to be no pattern as to who falls victim to this being, but they will choose one lady and pursue them until they have achieved their goals. Thus far there has been no way found to harm this creature.”

Nathalie finished reading and looked at Lady Lucie, who was paler than any person Nathalie had ever seen. “What does this mean?”

“It means,” Lady Lucie choked, “you’re the next victim of le cavalier de l’ombre, and we don’t know how to stop it.”

[nanamisflowerfield]

Behold Kitty Lil Mari

I BELIEVE IN KITTY LIL MARI SUPREMACY!!!!!!!

Her tail is kinda inspired by Cheshire's tail

Awww adorable!! She also looks a little bit like a racoon!💕

[fatoudixon]

thank you for tagging me @theflowerisblue @driesenstars and @1havenoidea 

tag 10 blogs you want to get to know better

name: ana 

gender: female

height: 167 cm

sexuality: bisexual ✨

favourite animal: dogs, pacman frogs, racoons and foxes

average hours of sleep: lol, 4-6 but sometimes more

dog or cat: i believe in dog supremacy

current time: 18:25

dream job: honestly being a photographer that has enough financial stability. or any creative field job, as long as im fulfilled and stable.

when I made this blog: around 2015? but it was used for something else. it officially became what it is now two months ago.

why I made the blog: wanted to have a fandom blog that wasn’t a sideblog. 

reason for url: elsker means love in norwegian and i love even and the evens. i also love urls with repeated letters.

i’ll tag @tsjernobyl @amiranaybett @sunflowernora @jorgecrespo @norou @crisanasoto @noorengels and anyone else that wants to do this. (feel free to ignore)

[talbottobey]

“I vividly recall walking through the exhibitions wondering why protestors on the front steps were carryings placards saying “Whitey Has Harlem on His Mind- We Have Africa on Our Mind” (Willis 7).

When reading this passage in Picturing Us by Deborah Willis, I had deja vu about a protest that occurred a few years ago at the Whitney Museum. A white woman had an installation at the Whitney and one of the paintings was of Emet Till's body in a casket. While art should be freedom of expression for all people, a white woman painting through the narrative of a black person's pain seems unjust. Emmett Till's death exemplified white supremacy and racism, so, furthermore, a white person using his death as a piece of art can be controversial. In Willis’ reading, I felt the same way about the photograph of the Racoon Couple in Car. This photo was also a white person depicting a black person's narrative and, again, something doesn’t feel right about that, seeing as many black artists are suppressed and may not have had the privilege to make this type of art themselves.

Nina Lipkind

[2ndson311989-blog]

Why in The F*** Does Cooning Exist?

"I remember talking to a white friend, a toxic liberal, who might one day warm up to logic, reason and justice, about racism.  To no surprise he with his white self was more interested in the idea of black people being racist.  “You don’t think that black people can be racist too?” he stated, in a matter-of-fact sense.  He was a bit shocked at my response:“Yes, of course black people can be racist.  Have you ever heard of David Clarke?”Needless to say, he wasn’t ready for that one.Most sociology scholars claim that black folk cannot be racist, they are only thinking in the direction of the reverse, and that is correct.  I on the other hand always sleep with an eye open, so I always maintained that black people can be racist — only towards other blacks that is.  When it comes to white supremacy, White supremacists and the rest of the alt-right has a lot of help.  You don’t have to be a black abolitionist writer/speaker photojournalist to find frustration when it comes to witnessing a black person use all their talents to oppose black progress, to provide, technically, Psy Ops against the majority of black people in America.  It has to be said, that there’s a LOT of black people who rather stand in the way of progress concerning Afro-Americans. I always likened this phenomenon to what was observed in the Blade movies.  You see Blade (Wesley Snipes), the Marvel Comics vampire hunter had an interesting set of characters who were practically, pets to the vampire guild.  In the first Blade movie, these regular humans working for the vampires were called “Familiars”.  In the second movie there was a  “familiar” who tells Blade that he rather be a pet than be cattle.I have no idea how many people were paying attention, but that quote in that movie rings so hard in my mind because it brilliantly illustrates the mentality of those who engage, in practically socio-psychological treason concerning the black community — black people who place personal safety to extreme importance to the point that they engage in what typically looks like Stockholm Syndrome, endangering the safety and security of others members of African Diaspora.Thoughts on the “Naming Convention” so to SpeakAs an abolitionist writer/speaker/photojournalist, one cannot pretend that these familiars do not exist in real life.  One of the first things a coon is called is a house negro of some sort.  I for one never liked this term because it perpetuates the myth that house negroes were content, happy, as if they were not lived-in hostages as they actually were.  House negroes were not infinitely posed in defense of white supremacy, and quite often they were the ones who engaged in arson (i.e., burning down the home furniture of whites) the most.  The second problem I have with this term is the fact that it perpetuates the myth there was only two American slave archetypes (e.g., house slave/field slave) when there was four; house hand, field hand, driver and artisan slave.  Technically, if anyone wanted to use a slave archetype to describe the modern day coon, it would be the driver slave, because that was the slave who had the whip, and sometimes had the gun, who was charged with the responsibility to literally enact violence upon the black persons under slavery in order to upkeep white supremacy.While the word “coon” or “trash panda” generally get the point across within the black community, it’s viewed as a slur due to the initial invention of the term by whites.  Being that this is a reality, other terms have came into existence.  “Butter Biscuit Brigade” typically denotes more than a few.If you ever heard of the term “Scooby Snack Blacks”, it’s a term I made myself years ago after seeing an old photo of a young black male, on his knees, nearly naked, practically posing as the pet (Scooby Doo, an incoherent dog) for a set of white friends of his, who probably have no idea what white privilege is.  Scooby Snacks became what such black folks do it for; the safety, security, and admiration given from white people.In 2016 I came up with the term “Tanooki”, which is based off of the old Mario Brothers game where the character who had the ability to literally suit up in a racoon dog suit.This term became my favorite on so many levels.  First off, it points to a suit that someone can put on and take off.  Technically, every black person has a tanooki suit in their closet; it’s just a matter of if it’s ever worn or not.  In this sense, the coon becomes an action, not a person, which is more effective as a concept.  A black person in many cases might be cooning by accident (by neglect) because racism against black people is so internalized.  So from there, the approach is similar to reminding someone that they’re caught with their pants down, or in this case, tanooki suit on.  A black person who is cooning by neglect is less likely to get defensive if there’s distance between the action and self.Even further with this term, is the fact that it stems from a Japanese folklore.  The tanooki (tanuki) in folklore was a trickster type of character, which cannot be trusted.  In folklore the racoon dog is also a shapeshifter, which from here alludes to the transformative nature of the coon.  The tanooki is also a gullible character, which means it’s easily fooled or swayed… which makes perfect sense here.  The Tanooki suit even goes deeper into the concept of Afro-American dual consciousness, first coined by W.E.B. Dubois.  With all stated here, I’ll have to say that this fantastic concept still remains as my favorite term.One term I never caught on to was the “Uncle Tom”.  For those who use this term, they never have read the book the character comes from.  I haven’t read Uncle Tom’s Cabin either, but I do know that  Stowe’s Uncle Tom was a young black man who refused to obey when ordered to beat other slaves, which goes opposite of the spirit of the term.Note: When it comes to the names and terms here, these terms are not for white people to use.Five Types of CoonsWhen decided to create the face photo for this article, I realized that there’s at least five types of coons who exist: •the Government coon; •the Sports coon; •the Social Media / Internet Coon; •the Hollywood coon, and; •the Religion coon.Just as black progress has two sides (e.g., black empowerment, dismantling racism) cooning has its parallel: defending white supremacy and assaulting the black community.  The five types of coons, due to the overall role of participation of their own oppression, do have a some overlap.  The biggest part thing I noticed with these five types is the fact that they all are on places of influential power.  While Government, internet and religion is a legitimate power that needs no explanation, sports/entertainment also exercise influential power upon black people, due to a myriad of factors, such as charismatic powers, the ability to attain wealth, providing personal characters to emulate.  In the 1990’s one slogan was “I wanna be like Mike”, and Michael Jordan was one of the biggest coons in American history.  And who didn’t want to be like Mike?......"

https://afrosapiophile.com/2017/10/10/tanooki/

[malewifegradyruewen]

Ceux Qui Ne Meurent Jamais

i created the google doc less than three hours ago i-

if any of y'all speak french and notice that the title is weird please lemme know, i used google translate but sometimes that sucks-

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word count: 1317

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The tall doors of the manor were nothing short of intimidating, and Nathalie had been standing outside for almost ten minutes, too afraid to knock. The air reeked of disregard and disrepair. Nathalie knew that education of the self was an unpopular stage, and many of the others had just cycled out of it, but she hadn’t expected Marchant Manor to be so silent. Even though the superior at the child’s manor had informed Nathalie that there would be two other ladies there, it seemed to her that Lady Sylviane had been wrong. The house seemed all but abandoned.

She stood outside a few minutes longer, wishing her childhood friends would have chosen education of self as well. Viviane and Roselyne had selected exploration, and Ivanna and Nadine had picked discovery. The five of them had made up one of the largest classes at Hazelford Children’s Manor, but they’d announced their separate paths at their going-away party. Nathalie could still taste the sweet chocolate cake and the bitter wine they’d been fed. It was hard to believe that had been only two days before.

The wind blew colder, and Nathalie drew her cloak up closer to her face. If only stage cycles didn’t happen in the coldest part of the fall. She couldn’t deny that part of her was also nervous to knock for fear of those who lived there, but the cold chilling her to the bone overruled any fear she had before. With one hand, she reached out to grab the ornate brass knocker and knocked it three times.

Barely a moment had passed before the door flew open. Behind it stood a woman wearing her dark hair pulled back into a bun that was starting to fall out. Her deep red blouse and brown skirt made Nathalie, in her pale blue child’s dress, feel inadequate. Although she didn’t look a day older than Nathalie, she knew that one of the ladies in the manor was one stage older than her, and the other three stages.

“Hello! You must be Lady Nathalie! Come in, out of cold!” the lady cried. Even as Nathalie stepped into the dark foyer, she could tell that this lady had a warm personality. “I’m Lady Lucie, second cycle.” She slammed the door shut, pushing it closed with all her might.

“Hello, I’m Nath-” she caught herself, remembering what Lady Sylviane had taught them. “Lady Nathalie. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Lucie.”

“Oh,” Lady Lucie laughed. “You can do away with formality with me. It’s just me and Lady Brigid here, so I don’t mind. We’ve been here, just the two of us, for eight years. Education of self is a dying stage.”

“Ah,” Nathalie agreed. She wasn’t sure what else to say. It was clear that very few ladies chose education of self, and even fewer were sent to Marchant Manor. The crumbling stone building had clearly seen its glory days long ago.

She’d always thought the manor she’d grown up in was large, but Marchant Manor’s foyer alone was as large as the entire banquet hall of the children’s manor. What she also noticed was that the armchairs scattered around were all covered in heavy cloths, a visible layer of dust resting on top.

“Oh,” Lady Lucie said, following Nathalie’s gaze. “We don’t come here often. This manor is meant for thirty ladies, but there’s only three of us, so we closed off the rest of the house. There’s at least three sitting rooms that are closed off. We have three washrooms, four bedrooms, three sitting rooms, a library, a kitchen, a dining room, a banquet hall, and a ballroom that aren’t closed off. Speaking of, would you like to see your room?”

Nathalie nodded, and reached to the bags she’d set on the floor, but Lady Lucie was fast. “I can carry that,” Nathalie said as she picked up her remaining bag, but Lady Lucie was already partway up the grand staircase at the far end of the foyer. Nathalie followed after her, afraid to lose sight of her in the large building.

She tried to soak in every detail of the ornate house, from the carved stone staircase to the painted details on the ceiling, but Lady Lucie was almost out of sight, turning a corner just as Nathalie reached the top of the stairs. She jogged after her, turning to see a hallway with about a dozen closed doors, and a row of chairs set up about three doors down. They were covered in the same thick cloth as the armchairs downstairs.

One of the doors creaked open, and Nathalie realised it hadn’t been fully closed. She pushed it open to find Lady Lucie setting her bags down on a bench at the end of the four-poster bed. She turned to face Nathalie and said, “It’s not much, but it’s all yours.”

The room was huge, a four-poster bed with dark, silky curtains taking up only a fraction of the floor space. The tall windows looked out over the back garden, with a wooden desk under one window and a vanity under another. A forest green rug sat underneath the bed, extending several feet past it on all sides. The room was three times bigger than the bedroom she’d shared with Roselyne and Nadine at the children’s manor. She wasn’t sure if this manor was unusually large or the children’s manor unusually small, but it was certainly a change from the only place she’d ever known.

“This is wonderful, thank you,” she said, placing the remainder of her belongings on the bench Lady Lucie had already placed her things on. “Is there anything I need to know? When is supper?”

“Depends. We cook a roast on Sundays, and visit the market on Tuesday and Saturday, but it’s whenever you’d like most nights. I quite enjoy cooking breakfast, and we eat around nine in the morning, and then late lunch and dinner on our own usually. But tonight we’ll be eating together, all three of us. Supper will be at seven-thirty.” Lady Lucie spoke a mile a minute, but her words were crisp and clean, so Nathalie could hear every single one clearly. “If there’s anything you need, the kitchen is downstairs and down the hallway to your right. I’ll leave the door open. You might want to change before we eat, and I’d suggest we keep the formalities, at least for now. If that will be all, I’ll leave you to get settled.” With a small nod from Nathalie, Lady Lucie left, pulling the door shut behind her.

Nathalie stood in silence for a moment before walking and flopping onto the bed. Seven-thirty was a long time away, and the journey to Marchant Manor had been a long one. Her class had awoken before the sunrise, and left the children’s manor just as the sky was beginning to lighten. Even now, she could tell the sun was setting beyond the hills in the distance. The days were shorter but by no means had the day of travel been short itself. They’d been in a carriage for almost seven hours, with stops to deliver Nathalie’s former classmates to their respective manors, and so they could stretch their legs. Both of the manors before her stop had been large and beautiful, and her dismay at finding the decrepit manor she would be staying in had been immense.

She still wasn’t sure how she felt about the manor, or Lady Lucie. She didn’t even know the name of the other lady in the house. Hopefully, supper would provide a sense of enlightenment, but until then, she had little to do but take a nap. Nathalie removed her cloak, placed it on the bench at the end of her bed, crawled across the spacious bed, and lay down. Just a short nap so she wouldn’t fall asleep during supper.

[malewifegradyruewen]

Ceux Qui Ne Meurent Jamais, Chapter Two

i swear i didn’t mean for this to get so long so fast-

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trigger warnings: religion mention but it’s not explicit and also it’s a religion i made up so it’s complicated but read at your own risk, ask to tag

word count: 1814

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The sky outside was dark when Nathalie opened her eyes, and it took her a moment to remember where she was. She wasn’t in the small dormitory of the children’s manor, but sprawled out on the cushioned expanse of her new bed in Marchant Manor. She looked to the clock across the room next to the door. Seven-twelve.

Supper. She had just over fifteen minutes to change and fix what she knew was a rat’s nest in her hair. Nathalie leaped out of bed, tore open her bags, and grabbed a midnight blue skirt, along with an off-white blouse. She threw them on as quickly as possible and slid on the grey shoes she’d kicked off before climbing into bed. She checked the clock again. Seven-twenty. Grabbing her brush, she ran to the vanity and started pulling her hair back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. No time for makeup, not that she had much to begin with.

The clock read seven-twenty-seven as she ran out the door and down the grand staircase. Lady Lucie had told her where the kitchen was, but not the dining room, and Nathalie had no idea where it was. At the children’s manor the dining hall had been connected to the kitchen with a swinging door. Maybe it was the same at Marchant. She ran down the hall towards the kitchen, and burst through the first doorway she came across.

Unfortunately, the room she burst into wasn’t the kitchen. Fortunately, her search was over. She’d found the dining room with- according to the clock on the opposite wall -not a moment to spare. The room was empty, but the chandelier had been lit and there were three place settings on one end of the long, ornately carved table. Lady Lucie was nowhere in sight, but neither was the third lady of the house. She wasn’t sure what else to do, so she walked to the table and took a seat.

The room was large and drafty, and eerily quiet. Nathalie noticed the whole house was like that, for the most part. Lady Lucie had said that they had been alone, just the two of them, for eight years. It was no surprise that the manor was as dilapidated as it was, but it still, to be alone in the dining room was terribly frightening, and Nathalie hoped it wouldn’t be that way for long.

Just then, a small door near a corner of the room swung open and Lady Lucie bustled in, carrying two platters and a bowl. “Ah, there you are! I was wondering where you went off to. I checked your room not long ago but I didn’t see you there.”

Nathalie looked at her, baffled. “How long ago did you check?”

“Oh, maybe an hour or so? How come?”

“I was...taking a nap. I was in my room the whole time.”

“Oh,” Lady Lucie said. “I must have missed you.”

“Yeah,” Nathalie agreed, although she was skeptical.

“Have you seen the other lady of the house yet? She’s late,” Lady Lucie asked as she placed the platters down in front of Nathalie.

“No, I haven’t,” she admitted.

Just then, the door to the hallway flew open, and there stood a slender lady with a tight bun and a floor-length black skirt. She didn’t look up from the book she was reading, the title of which Nathalie couldn’t make out. Even though she wasn’t watching where she walked, she moved with speed and grace, as though she’d done this a million times.

“I’ll take my supper in the library, Lady Lucie,” she said, flipping the page with her bony fingers.

“Lady Brigid, we have a new lady in the house. For one supper, you can put the book down and engage in conversation.” Lady Lucie walked towards her and grabbed the book. Lady Brigid cried out and reached to grab it, but Lady Lucie had already tucked it away into the folds of her own skirt. “Come, sit. Set a good example for Lady Nathalie.”

Lady Brigid scowled and sat down, her long skirt sweeping the floor as she did. She glared at Lady Lucie, but she seemed not to notice, serving Nathalie a helping of potatoes and a serving of mushrooms.

“So who is this?” Lady Brigid asked, turning her attention to Nathalie.

“I’m Nath- Lady Nathalie,” she said, remembering what Lady Lucie had told her. The title was still strange, and she was still getting used to it.

“Where did you come from?” Lady Brigid stared at her, as though trying to bore holes through Nathalie’s skull.

“Hazelford Children’s Manor in Toulliers, ma’am. First cycle.”

“So I see they’re sending just anyone here now, are they?” Lady Brigid remarked, as though Nathalie were the scum of the Earth.

“Lady Brigid, that’s quite enough,” Lady Lucie interrupted. “This is not a time for argument. I’m sure Hazelford does a fine job of educating the young ladies in their care, and Lady Nathalie is as good as any of the ladies.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Lady Brigid said, still staring at Nathalie.

A moment of uncomfortable silence followed, broken by Lady Lucie declaring, “Well, we mustn’t let our food get cold. Eat, eat!”

Nathalie folded her hands to pray, but Lady Lucie and Lady Brigid had both started cutting into the duck meat on their plates. “Do we not pray?”

The other ladies stopped and looked at Nathalie. “I suppose we do,” Lady Lucie said slowly, putting down her fork and knife. Lady Brigid followed suit and they folded their hands and bowed their heads.

“Oh Lady of All Ladies, protect the ladies of the order and bless us this day, as you have and will forever, amen.” It was a short prayer that Nathalie knew by heart, having said it before each meal for as long as she could remember. After saying this, she placed her napkin in her lap and started cutting her meat, just as Lady Sylviane had taught her.

“A lady must act like a proper lady, otherwise her title is for naught,” Lady Sylviane had been fond of saying whenever she saw a girl whose posture was not perfect or took too large of a bite. Nathalie could still hear her reprimands, even at a meal she wasn’t present at.

She glanced over at her fellow ladies. Had Lady Sylviane been there, she would have been appalled. Lady Lucie was eating potatoes with her fingers, and Lady Brigid had somehow acquired a new book that she had placed next to her plate and she was poring over as she took a bite of her duck. She gaped at them for nearly a minute before they realised she was staring.

“Have you no shame?” Nathalie asked. “Have you no shame at all?”

They stared back at her for a moment before Lady Lucie said sheepishly, “It’s been a while since anyone else dined with us. We usually take supper independently, in the library.”

“If we don’t use cutlery, we don’t have to wash it,” Lady Brigid added. “It’s just us taking care of the whole manor. That’s why we closed so much of the house off, so we haven’t got to clean it. We try to make as little mess as possible, so we can dedicate more time to study.”

Nathalie stared at them. “Did you not receive proper education in the children’s manor?”

“We did, we just have a mutual, unspoken agreement that that’s too much trouble.” Lady Lucie looked at Nathalie as though she were stupid. “We can use proper manners, but it’s so rare we have visitors that we decided not to bother.”

With that, the pair of them went back to their meals, their manner the same as before. Nathalie stared a moment more, baffled at their logic. She supposed it made sense to close off parts of the house, as there was simply too much of it for the few people residing in Marchant Manor, but she’d assumed that all of the ladies would use proper table manners. Some small part of her had always hated Lady Sylviane’s rules, but she’d been too scared to try and defy her. But seeing as the ladies here didn’t mind…

She tentatively put down her fork and gingerly picked up a baby potato. Had she been using cutlery, she would have cut it in two, but it wasn’t too large as to not fit in her mouth. Before she could change her mind, she placed the whole thing in her mouth and started chewing it. She couldn’t entirely close her mouth, but it didn’t matter. The potato itself was nothing special, but the action was what made it truly special. It was silly, really, that something so small could bring her such joy, but it did. She ate her whole meal in that fashion, finally sitting back and licking her fingers.

“It’s nice, not to have to think about the rules, isn’t it?” Lady Lucie asked, watching Nathalie finish up. She nodded, and Lady Lucie smiled. “Would you like to see the rest of the house tonight?”

“Oh, no thank you,” she said. “I’m full, and I’d like to go to bed.”

“I figured as much. Lady Brigid, you’ll be returning to the library, I assume?”

“Yes, thank you for supper,” Lady Brigid stood up, not looking up from her book as she exited the dining room.

“Mysterious, isn’t she?” Lady Lucie remarked as she began to clear the dishes. “She’s nice enough, but she’s strange. Still don’t know much about her, and I’ve been here eleven years.”

“Really?” Nathalie asked, stacking up the supper plates. “How odd.”

“Yes, well, I’m not sure what else to do with her,” Lady Lucie said. “Perhaps we can discover things together. But it can wait until tomorrow. You should get some rest.”

“Are you sure you don’t need help cleaning up supper?” Nathalie asked.

“Oh, I’m fine. I clean up by myself all the time,” she said, taking the plates from Nathalie. “Truly, I can handle it. Go to bed, and I’ll see you in the morning. Breakfast is usually around nine, but I’ll make yours whenever you wake. Sleep well.”

With that dismissal, Nathalie felt she had no choice but to climb back up the grand staircase to her bedroom, where she shut the door behind her. Supper had been interesting, in more ways than one, but she was too exhausted to think about it. Instead, she removed the bun from her hair, replacing it with a long plait, and slipping into her nightdress before climbing into bed, under the heavy sheets. Tomorrow would be a day of education, in more ways than one, but right now, it was time to rest. Nathalie had no barely drawn the covers up to her chin before she was fast asleep.