I Cry At The End Of Memory Every Time. And After, When Everyone Greets Grizabella One By One.,. Oh My

my jellicle OC, Idylipity (Idle-ip-itty.) She hangs out in the local church and lives up by the church bell, so her hearing is bad from how loud it is.

She’s quiet and timid around the other cats, but friendly with people. Her name at the church is Peach, and they keep her around to help with the rat problem.

best friend got us tickets to see Fulton CATS in July.,,…,.. ouggghhheeheheheheheheh IM SO EXCITED OH MY GOD he got us orchestra seating hhhhehehehehehe

<3

he’s asleepin.,. :3<

all i do is sit in my college courses and think about Cats. earth science class is like “this is a rock” and i’m like “oh haha. that rock is grey. like. like munkustrap. from. from cats.” and then they euthanize me in the parking lot

Munkustrap from back in August :3

I’ve spent all day foaming at the mouth at all the clips I can find of the Casa Mañana Theatre’s Texan-themed production of Cats. It’s 100% my favorite concept I’ve seen for a non-replica show.

I mean just LOOK at Misto.,..

link

me all morning, without really noticing or thinking about the words i’m saying:

♫ ♪ bustopher jones, has bitches and hoes ♫ ♪

At night, the two would curl up in the hollowed out record player they called a bed. Misto would fastidiously work at Tugger’s treasured mane, focusing on the soft undercoat that was prone to mats, and the spots beneath his chin and on the back of his neck that the tom couldn’t reach himself. Meanwhile, Tugger would comb at Misto’s iridescent fur, purring as he caught stray sparks with his tongue. They spent the darkest hours of the night working together in comfortable silence.

i love u grizabella..,.. i love projecting my experiences as an autistic person onto you. i love you as a metaphor for the isolation and desire for companionship that autistic people feel. i hate the way they treated you, and i love you.

Anyways.