except i don't even have a cat


the ml fandom has had huge arguments over food.

we mostly get along over here. we don’t often catfight about ships (unless they’re horrible), we support each others’ art and their right of what they can draw, we leave nice reviews on fanfics and generally have a good time. we aren’t even angry about star signs or cat vs dog person. everyone is welcome here

except when it comes to food

many of you remember the salt and vinegar chip discourse, in which most notably, @megatraven defended the honorable and sacred salt and vinegar chip by buying a shit ton of them. it was a fandom divide and no one knew who was their enemy and who they could trust

now it’s bacon. and pineapple on pizza and shit.

and do you know why? do you know why i think this odd pattern keeps showing up, that this fandom is unnecessarily obsessed with drawing lines within food preferences?

because that’s 100% what marinette and adrien would do. do not tell me that they would not text each other until 3 arguing about s&v chips. do not tell me sabine would not offer adrien bacon, to which marinette would be disgusted, and he’d eat seven pieces in a single minute and marinette threatens to break up with him. do not tell me that marinette wouldn’t buy dark chocolate and adrien would be betrayed because his preference is white. they’d absolutely do it

so good job ml fandom, you guys are really in character.

Let’s Talk About Anger

Let’s talk about the Hulk.

Bruce Banner declares flippantly, smirking over his shoulder, “I’m always angry.”

“I’m always angry,” says the poor little white boy. What are you even angry about? The Hulk is literally the man who turns into a monster when he gets angry, who flies into a rage and reacts with violence. Except that Marvel turned him into a hero.

Let’s talk about anger.

Let’s talk about the people who, every day, have been cat-called, have been groped, have been threatened, have been hurt, have been raped. Let’s talk about the people who have experienced the first, and fear the last, fear it with every fibre of their being, go through life looking - not over their shoulder - but ahead, at each new man they meet, mentally applying a little tag that asks, ‘rapist?’, until enough trust is earnt that they can finally relax, and even then a corner of their mind wonders if that’s safe enough. Let’s talk about the fact that that fear hurts, that fear feels wrong, because you can’t be afraid of 50% of the world, and you’re not, really, it’s just that there’s enough of the world that you should be afraid of, and they don’t come with warning labels. It is easier to get angry than stay afraid for life, so you get angry. Angry for you, angry for your sisters in the world, angry for the men you know and love and want to trust that you can’t, because the rapists look and sound like normal men - and when normal men sound and act like rapists, it’s just a joke and you’re too sensitive.

That’s why a woman might be always angry.

Let’s talk about anger.

Let’s talk about dark-skinned bodies lying in streets like discarded fast-food packets, blood seeping out of bullet holes, the red of life not fully lived. Let’s talk about broken brown bodies lying in police cells until it is too late for anything to help. Let’s talk about families mourning because their father, mother, sister, brother is dead. There’s not supposed to be a death penalty here, but there’s a hole in their family because someone felt threatened by a child wearing a hoodie. Let’s talk about murderers hiding behind badges, hiding behind slavery and colonisation that hangs on even to this day. Let’s talk about the fact that fear and grief and being denied justice hurt. It is easier to get angry than feel powerless, so you get angry. Angry for your family, angry for your community, angry for every person who has been denied justice, angry for those who want to uphold justice - the ones you suspect and hope are there in the forces of the law, with a desire to protect as you were once told they would, but who seem to be lost in the madness and chaos and racism of the system.

That’s why a person of colour might be angry.

Let’s talk about anger.

Let’s talk about a person who wants nothing more than to live, to love, to be themselves. Let’s talk about hurled abuse and hurled projectiles, snarling words that cut you down to nothing. People who question your right to be the person you know you are, who would forbid you the right to love the person you love, who want nothing more than to stop you being alive. Let’s talk about the children, just starting to come into their own, who hear themselves cut down to nothing, and the parents who then have to cut them down from rafters or branches and wonder what their bright-eyed child had ever done to harm anyone, to receive such abuse that it leads them to suicide.

That’s why a queer person might be angry.

Let’s talk about anger.

Let’s talk about trying to exist in a world that was not made for you, that says the way you think and talk and act and look is wrong and strange and inconvenient, until the only thing you know how to say is “sorry”. When you see the news and see the statistics and know that if someone kills you - if your own family killed you - people would coo about their “hardships”. When you hear people talking about how, for the good of humanity, people like you shouldn’t be born, and with genetic engineering or technical implants, they can make you cease to exist.

That’s why a “disabled” person - differently abled, neurodivergent, having a culture of their own - might be angry.

But those things are huge, and the anger they cause is huge, and that takes energy. It might not even be that. It might be something much smaller.

It might be seeing that your work isn’t valued as highly as your coworker’s, even though it is better. It might be seeing another man cast in a woman’s role again. It might be being told your hair isn’t 'professional’, even though a little white starlet got praised in the fashion mags for wearing it. It might be getting interrupted again. It might be being called by the wrong pronoun again. It might be a friend saying a casual slur because they’ve never felt the pain and shame of that dehumanisation. It might be someone losing patience because you didn’t understand them. It might be told to stay put because someone isn’t patient enough to wait for you, or support you. It might be saying sorry, even when you were in the right.

It might be any of a million tiny little things that add up to the world telling you you’re not worth as much as you would be if your skin were whiter and if your pants (but never your skirt) hid a penis and if you fitted neatly into the little boxes other people had assigned you and if your mind or your body worked the way another person’s does.

So no, let’s not talk about the Hulk. Let’s talk about the real world.

Why doesn’t CATS get more mentions in terms of female represantation? I mean, look at the facts:

1. Female protagonist
2. Majority of the cast is female
3. Passes the Bechdel Test easily without even having real dialogue
4. Sexually open female characters who are not judged for it, except for the protagonist who got slut shamed first and in the end everyone apologized and admitted they were wrong
5. Female characters of the most different personalities, who get along well and who are not portrayed as examples of the “right” and the “wrong” kinds of women
6. Honest female friendships
7. Honest female + male friendships
8. Very sweet, but minor romance without any pressure
9. Old female protagonist is helped by two teenage girls who convince the old man she’s a good person, and he listens to these teenage girls instead of the others
10. Genuinely nice male characters who respect the female characters, except for the ultimate villain who is a(n implied) rapist and who gets defeated

I mean really, that’s facts. Deal with it. And I am not even joking, I am absolutely serious. No one takes CATS serious, but I do.

I have this headcanon that not only does Damian not like Tim, but even Damian’s cats don’t like Tim.  Because they’re Damian’s.

Like, Tim will be getting ready for the day after staying at the manor and he’ll be all ready except for his shoes and he’ll be slipping those on when he realizes they are covered in cat shit. And just his shoes. Nobody else’s. (He actually goes and checks.) And it figures that it’s his luck because that just happened to be the day he only brought one pair of shoes because he hadn’t been planning on staying for more than a night

And then he calls Damian–who’s at the Titans Tower because Tim has decided that he’s only going to stay at the manor when the demon spawn isn’t around–and tells him of the unfortunate incident involving the cats and his shoes and all Damian does on the other end of the line is cackle, say “everything is going according to plan”, and hang up.

Needless to say, Tim stared at the phone in immense confusion until he gets a text from Garfield.

XD I switched his stuff out with the sugary stuff again.

Talking about cereal.