Just Another Crazy Shipper Account

Tommye Austin has created a new better mask!

The name N95 comes from the fact the masks filter 95% of airborne particles, such as viruses. Lab results show Tommye’s masks block 96.5%.

N95s weren’t intended for all-day use, so they tend to carve painful, unsightly marks into noses, cheeks and chins. Hers don’t.

We need more non-binary memes in the world

First of all, look at his costume design

Unlike the other cats, he doesn’t have any protruding fur around his joints or hips, something most other cats have.

This means he’s been shaved, and probably looks like this:

This is a very common haircut for cats in show biz as it shows off their physical condition

Also, Tugger has apparently tried rabbit, grouse, and pheasant, all of which would be expensive things to feed a cat. So his owners probably must have been quite wealthy to afford feed their cat pheasant all the time.

He was nearly identical to his father, a ginger cat with white markings. He didn’t have magic, but he did have his charm.

His best friend was the Rum Tum Tugger, and the two toms often caused mischief and chaos around the Junkyard, and their laughter was often heard after a crash or a shout. 

He wore his three Names like a badge of honor, singing boldly about them to any cat who might overhear. He created his song when he was just out of kittenhood, belting it out as the Rum Tum Tugger created his own song, their family watching with fond exasperation. 

He was extremely protective over his sisters, and when they disappeared with Macavity, he couldn’t handle the devastation. He felt as if he had failed both his sisters and his parents. As much as the Rum Tum Tugger tried to dissuade his friend, who was like his brother after Macavity had left and Munkustrap was engulfed with training as the next Protector, he had to leave. He bid farewell to his family, promised to visit, and left the Junkyard. He traveled around, leaving London to see the world, until he ended up in Paris, France. He could never be a housecat, however, so he remained in the streets, meeting up with fellow alley cats and singing loudly every night. 

He would receive messages from his family via the mice that would make the journey between London and Paris, and he sent messages back, always promising that he would never become like the Glamour Cat, who had abandoned her family. When he received word that his sisters had returned to the Junkyard, he knew that he needed to return home as well. He had been on his way, humming his song to himself when he had met her. A beautiful, pure white queen with three kittens who immediately wriggled their way into his heart. 

And when he had spotted the queen, sitting right below the bridge as he walked over it, he couldn’t help but puff up slightly and sing louder:

“Tellin’ my friends of the social elite

Or some cute cat I happen to meet

That I’m Abraham De Lacy

Guiseppe Casey

Thomas O’Malley

O’Malley the Alley Cat”

when someone says “yeah, I’ve been tired lately because of my depression. I’m gonna talk to my doctor about my meds,” or like they mention coping with intrusive thoughts, or delusions, or hallucinations, or focus issues, or compulsive behavior, etc. etc., like it’s normal, bc for them and for me and for so many people, one or more of those things ARE normal……..

rum tum tugger: