Thee Chat Noir

wow. really hope this isn't actually a norm taking hold with new users! this isn't facebook, you don't need to know people before following them

this is the '10 year mutuals you've never spoken to once' site

Follow! REBLOG! It's how the site works!!

i wish i could purr so my friends know im still happy even if m not saying anything

Good to see the autistics are enjoying this one

reblog if you believe fanfics are as valid as books that were published and sold by authors who write as their main careers. I'm trying to prove a point

Every month there’s a section in the wizard magazine listing the new “unsportsmanlike” spells that have been created. They’re not technically forbidden, just emphatically discouraged.

You’ll get banned from groups and alienated by everyone though if you do cast them

You've recently been bitten by a werewolf, and after your first werewolf experience you wake up in a den next to a lady who has the same scars as the werewolf who bit you

And make it gay

Every Fae has something niche they collect. Old records, forgotten books or even lost toys. Your collection? Well… you definitely don’t have to worry about someone wanting your things…

Poison coated weapons. You can steal them. But only once

you and your best friend are superheroes who studied under the same master. He’s one of the strongest while you’re one of the weakest. When you ask him how, he confusingly asks you “Didn’t you take of the restrictor bands master gave us?”

You take it off. You are no longer the weakest.

one time I went over to a friend's house and their housemate was making paper in the living room, and we saw this big tub full of water they were using to dissolve old scrap paper into a slurry, and everyone was immediately like "oh, you need scrap paper?" and started turning out their jacket pockets and producing expired coupons and bus tickets and crumpled receipts and old shopping lists and whatever else they'd been carrying round with them for no good reason, and passing it all to the paper-making housemate to make sure it was suitable before it got torn up and dropped into the tub, while people took turns stirring the slurry with a big wooden stick. it was strangely ritualistic, like presenting an offering to some kind of temple elder for inspection before placing it in a watery shrine to be devoured and reformed. pulp for the pulp god.