bang-kaboom!💥

Oh god, you nailed it, though. Tugger was the first to go.

There were no skeletons but there SHOULD have been.

He was a longhaired medium brown tabby with tuxedo markings and areas of his coat verging into a dark gold. So, almost a torbie and white? Which would make him either very rare or trans. He had beautiful pale gold and white markings around his eyes, like those tabby eye markings, just very pronounced.

No! I would like it to be, but it’s fine if he gets around. That’s just what he does, besides steal your bones. If any of y'all have a Jumbletwunk dream, I insist that you share it with me at once!

You understand him, andd my subconscious, PERFECTLY. I like you.

I love you all, you’re brilliant, you made me laugh so very hard.

I suppose technically it still works.

I am picturing the deboned Jellicles being sort of like that prehistoric skunk-badger animal from Ice Age Continental Drift who would run up the flagpole and act as the pirate flag … just sort of ambulatory floppy cloaks. This is reasonable because cats’ natural flexibility is the next best thing to being boneless so they are more used to it than most other animals.

He now has a whole character arc.

The tale of his youth as a hapless young singleton kitten whose mother was selected to go to the Heaviside Layer before he was able to fully care for himself.

The story of his troubled and sometimes violent adolescence with Macavity, a simultaneous father figure and subject of romantic yearning, who only kept him around because of his terrifying power to reduce to bones any Jellicle whose third name he knew.

The drama of his adulthood escape from the gang and disillusionment as he realizes that, while magic is obviously real, all the Heaviside ritual offers is death and a deep layer of bones atop an abandoned hotel.

The legend of his maturity as a kind of underworld figure crowned in knucklebones and pop can pull tabs who has reclaimed the Heaviside bones, restored their names, and can speak with and animate them at will, and who tries to spread word of the truth from atop his throne of ribs and skulls and femurs.

He is a rival to both Old Deuteronomy and Macavity, and though he yearns to be part of the proud and fey Jellicle society again, he can no longer stomach its comforting lies or its constant competition for a hollow prize.

Whether you ask for a word with a loved one who has stopped their dancing, seek the answer to the question that burns in you unasked, or crave a night in his arms, the cost to enter his realm and beg a favor is a single feline bone.

Will you offer him one you stole? The bone of an enemy? Of a friend? Or will you offer one of your own, and a single letter of your tail name that he might dance it out of you? Will your sacrifice be payment enough?

What secrets gleam within his moonlit eyes?

And pitters down the rainswept streets as if without a care

His tabby markings golden in the halo of the lamps

And his pelt forever-fluffed despite the snowflakes and the damps

And his eyes are ever-glowing—he has got the fiercest stares

And, oh, Heaven help you, kitten, should he catch you unawares!

He has got the sweetest purr, my kit, a rumble through your heart

Like the purr your mother gave you, ere you ever walked apart

And his grace can top Mistopheles’ and match Rum-Tum’s hauteur

He sings in seven octaves and his voice is rich and pure

At pranks he is the very best; at mischief he’s the worst

And they say that even Bustopher saluted him once first

He mystifies Macavity, and nobody does that

And yet he does, and even the most grand and wisest cat

Old Deuteronomy of years untold and countless wives

Whose age is yet unhindered by a limit to his lives

Cannot match Jumbletwunk for power, nor does he alone

Keep access to the Heaviside Layer truly quite his own

For Jumbletwunk can there ascend by art and will and whim

And the Old Cat says who goes, but as for who comes back? It’s him

It’s Jumbletwunk who answers that, with arts arcane and odd

A young and restless dandy, a disaster of a god

But he it is that minds the gate, and he that reads the scroll

And he that gives commands unto the bone and ghost and soul

And if you’re living or you’re dead, it makes no difference there

For bones of those yet living help to decorate his lair

And if you’re grieving, desperate or lonely or bewitched

By his golden tabby-markings or the way his tail is twitched

You might follow him back to his den of bones and ghosts and song

And might pay the price to enter—in itself, it isn’t wrong

But it’s costly, in its way—a bone for him—one from a cat

Be it pilfered, stolen, scavenged—if you’re wise, leave it at that

But his gift is more than singing ghosts back down from Heaviside

And he’ll sing a bone out from your tail and tweak it through your hide

And to let him work this magic, a mere letter of your Name

Seems not a heavy price—it’s yours, and secret all the same

And many is the Jellicle who carries one bone less

And the memory of dancing with the dead, or maybe, yes,

With Jumbletwunk himself, who, mind you, dances very well

But only dances with you if you’ve got a bone to sell

And there’s older cats who plead their case at midnight at the ball

Who’ve no bones left within their tail, and Jumble has them all

And they’ve danced their nights with dead cats til the real world fades away

And it’s only thoughts of Heaviside that makes their ball-songs gay

But only one each year can have that blessing for their own

And others wait, and pine, and find for Jumbletwunk a bone

And in his lair they dance again, with loved ones gone beyond

And leading at the dance is Jumble, eyes aglow and fond

For by that time within his head, his heart, his eyes afire

There dwells more than a letter, but one’s secret name entire!

And bone by bone the dead arise, and creep up to his hall

“She won’t miss this,” “he won’t miss that, he’s dead!” excuses, all

And maybe they won’t miss it, but a skeleton, when whole

Can be addressed, and eyesockets are windows to the soul

And even up in Heaviside the cats will heed the call

The promise of a song and dance; the Necromancer’s hall

Will fill itself with music and with souls and for a time

The party is exquisite, and the company sublime

The skeletons will dance and play; the souls will talk and sing

And you’ll find Jumbletwunk’s the cat who’ll give you anything

But anything has got a price, and with the bones you’ve got

Less than a year of nights you’ll buy, and oh, life has a lot

So be you careful, kitten, when a too-sleek form slinks by

Good Omens + Jesus Christ Superstar

Pt. 1 Crowley vs. Gethsemane (I Only Want To Say)

Bonus:

1. A Child Of The Street: chapter fic. Series of time jumps explaining who Seymour’s parent’s are and exploring his early life a bit.

2. It’s Just The Gas: SeymourxAudrey fluff piece. Audrey dabbles with Orin’s nitrous oxide. It makes things come out that she wouldn’t admit otherwise.

3. Tomorrow: Post theatrical ending chapter fic, follows through the first year of Audrey and Seymour after leaving Skid Row.

4. Audrey, Lovely Audrey: Audrey’s life up to the events of the musical told in first person.

Seymour, scared to get off the ladder: Yes!

Seymour: *jumps off the ladder*

insects: