say no to catnip

jblackcz  asked:

Do you have any tips for good marichat fanfics?

Sorry it took so long to respond, but I was looking through my bookmarks and subscriptions to make this list. But it’s finally here: a list of some my favorite Marichat stories. Some very popular, some not as popular, but wonderful. In no particular order, except the first one.


Ne Me Quitte Pas by @imatrisarahtopsn - This was the fic that sold me on Marichat, for its slow burn. It is so cute, and Chat Noir is so sweet with Marinette. Also funny and has my favorite akuma name: Cafiend (it’s been almost a year, and I’m still not over that XD) Completed.

Broken Hearts Club by @frostedpuffs - Marinette and Chat Noir get rejected by their respective loves and end up in a strange friendship with whom they rejected. This story is so beautiful and has wonderful characterizations, it is one of my current favorites. Ongoing.

A sure thing by @baneismydragon - Part of a series, but it can be read as a standalone. Kind of Adrinette, but mostly Marichat. Where Chat Noir makes a bet with Marinette for her to confess Adrien. Only two chapters long, and super adorable! Complete.

Wait, what? by @khaleisey - Volpina switch, with Marinette being the illusion. This is just a funny one-shot reveal. A quick must read. Complete

Plant by @foolish-idiot - It’s basically a metaphor of the growth of their relationship, and it is beautiful. Short, but so worth the read. Complete.

Quiet Ice, Silent Nights by @thelastpilot - A winter fanfic, where Chat Noir sees Marinette ice-skating in the dead of the night, and later decides to help her for a competition. It’s beautiful, and is even more beautiful when you read it with the piano song linked in the story. Complete.

Drunken Confessions by @my-insanity-is-an-artform - Based on the tumblr prompt ‘I like someone else’. While everyone else did angst, this genius here made drunken comedy gold in a one-shot. Completed.

The Purrincess and The Chat by @sinnamon-toast-chat - This is cuteness with hilarious internal monologue, courtesy of Adrien Agreste. I like this one in particular for its characterizations. Completed.

Stray Chat by @pozolegirl - Roomate AU, where Marinette has no idea Adrien ran away from home, but knows she has Chat Noir for a roomate. Funny, cute, and just wonderful for so much more. A must read. Completed.

chat noooo by @imthepunchlord - Chat Noir gets high on catnip. That’s all I need to say. Complete.

On The Prowl by @ghostgirl19posts - Criminal Chat Noir AU. No miraculouses, where Chat Noir is a cat-burglar, but is not as bad as he seems. Ladybug shows up later in the fic. Really, it’s a lot of fun to read. Complete.

When Duty and Desire Meet written by @midnightstarlightwrites and illustrated by @edendaphne - Older Chat and Reverse Crush AU. Not only is it wonderfully written, but the illustrations are gorgeous. A very unique experience and a wonderful collection of interconnected one-shots. Ongoing.

That’s all I got for now. Reminder that these are Marichat only. For other stories, I would need to make a different list. But these ones are some of my favorites from this side of the love square.

Happy reading!

Untitled ficlet: Dean gets magically whammied

Spell’s incomplete when it gets tossed at Dean by the witch to try and slow him down, leading to only Dean getting affected, and to him ending up with the ability to scent people like something out of an urban fantasy novel.

Since Dean’s not hurt, they aren’t too worried by it- even if Dean tends to follow Sam around or even get mad because “Fucking hell, Sam, you smell like a damn bakery. I need something with cinnamon now.”

Sometimes the smell has obvious meanings no one mentions, like how Mary smells like a burnt pie- love that turns into disappointment.

Sadder still, and a secret he keeps to himself, is when Dean digs out Charlie’s left behind duffle he’d kept just in case… just in case. He cries when he smells her. Cries like he never got to when he lost her.

Coming into the library to see Castiel seated in one of the chairs, Dean’s eyes sort of glaze over, and the next thing he knows there’s a hand on his shoulder and one at his waist (not the same person) and two people saying his name in concern, and Dean blinks and pushes himself up and back, like dragging himself awake from sleep- though he knows he’s awake- with a gruff, “What?” and Sam can’t seem to even make words, though his face does a series of odd things, and then he hears a low, “Dean" soft and pointed and near, and Dean finds himself blinking in confusion into blue eyes aaannnddd Dean has somehow crawled into the chair to straddle Cas’ lap and basically bury his nose at Cas’ neck and shoulder smelling him.

He kind of wants to get back to that, actually. Sam shifts around, brows furrowed and hazel eyes more worried than amused. “Dude, are you high? Cas, I think you got him high. Look at his pupils.”

Dean feels high, actually, and snickers with the realization. And kind of want to lick a stripe up Cas’ neck. From the flush of heat on the angel’s face, Dean thinks he might have already. And, oh yeah, aside from giggles, that’s another side affect when Dean and drugs mix, which he can feel very evidently as he shifts to try and shove himself away.

“Sam, get him away from me. Or me from him,” a laugh, “He’s catnip and I wanna climb him like a tree,” followed by more giggles.

Sam drags him away, barking orders for Dean to both stop fighting him as well as to stop talking, herding him out into the garage, and Dean nearly purrs when he scents the Impala, happily climbing into the car and lounging back in contentment.

“You… better now?” Sam asks worriedly. He’s breathing heavily like he had to practically drag Dean the rest of the way, scared and aggravated in one.

Dean can only chuckle and wave him away, before settling back to sleep.

The next time he wakes, it’s to fingers gripping his chin and turning his head, and Dean is suddenly very alert at the sight of Rowena and Sam, eyes zeroing in on her.

She waves his brother away. “Run along, Samuel. He’ll be fine.” Standing, she offers out her hand, which he immediately takes, letting her lead him from the garage. “We’ll be in the library.”

Dean’s obedient as she tells him to sit on the end of the table, eyes studying her as she moves, pulling things from a carpet bag and setting them on the table near a bowl.

“It smells like Lysol,” he says softly.

“They wanted to make it safe for you to come back in the bunker.” She glanced at him with a coy smirk. “Heard you made quite the display.”

He can’t stop staring, fingers reaching out to pluck at one long curl. “You don’t, though.”

She falters with a blink, expression going guarded as she busies herself. “And what do I smell like?”

“It’s… complicated. Sweet, like sunlight and honey on the tip of your tongue,” he answers a little dreamily, like he’d been laying out in the sun and wanted a nap. “It’s warm like tea. Flowers in springtime. It suits you somehow.” There’s pink on her cheeks even as he releases the coiled lock. “What’s wrong with me?”

She pats his knee. “Nothing serious,” she comforts, voice soft and, for once, genuine. “Your body is under the effects of an incomplete spell for a sixth sense and psychic abilities. Your brain is interpreting partial readings of the world around you using the senses you have- all well and good, so long as you’re dealing with a mortal.” Straightening, she tapped the tip of his nose with her finger. “The supernatural on the other hand? You smell magic on me. Things a bit warm and fuzzy at the edges? Feel a wee floaty? Like a dream?” He nodded. “Aye. That’ll do it.”

He struggles to remember, earlier in the library when he’d had a bad- or very good reaction to- “Cas.” He looks at her. “What happened with Cas?”

Her lips purse like she’s trying not to smile. “Apparently, your bonny angel is- well, Samuel says you were immediately intoxicated and quite giddy. Whether from, ah, feeling not exactly platonic or just sensing the divine, I’m afraid I don’t know. Perhaps a mixture of cause and effect. Drink this.”

Obeying, he pulls a face at the taste, and hands the container back. She’s studying him. “What?”

“You… you just did it. No suspicion. No threats. You obeyed.”

She starts working on another concoction, Remedy Part II, he guesses.

“You’re not here to hurt me,” he answers. “Why wouldn’t I?” Something spikes in the way she smells, tangy like orange slices, and he think he may have embarrassed her, but then is immediately distracted again, reaching forward once more. “I like your hair.”

Two concoctions later, the room loses the dreamlike quality for something more real, before he starts feeling very heavy and sleepy.

“Samuel!” Rowena calls, stepping to the side as Sam rounds the corner, catching Dean as he slumps forward, half-asleep already. “The rest is sleep,” she soothes, fingers gentle where they touch him.

He comes only partially to, later, awakened by the sense of a familiar presence that has him reaching out blindly, index finger hooking around the tips of Castiel’s that hang over the arm of the chair.

Material shifts, and Dean can tell his patient waiting is replaced with alert relief. He cracks open a eye, trying to focus even as he feels himself drifting back under.

“Sorry…’bout before.” He yawns and snuggles more comfortably into his pillow and memory foam mattress, settling. “You still smell nice, though. I like it. Like you.” Sleep saps strength from his arm, making his hand fall away. “You always smell nice… Catnip.”

If he was going to say more than that, he doesn’t get to, and he doesn’t remember it when he wakes up. He buys Rowena some specialty tea as a thank-you, and sends it with a card.

He still zones out sometimes. At the scent of coffee or flowers or as light refracts brightly and it’ll take him a moment to come back to himself, shaking away the fog like a forgotten dream.


Green eyes drift to the angel that had been walking beside him, then down to the bouquet of sunflowers he vaguely remembers selecting from the cart. “They’re you.” Cas clearly lacks all understanding in his meaning, which is drifting so quickly, Dean hardly remembers it himself. “They look like you,” he tries, knowing it’s not right, and grip loose as Castiel takes them from him.

A flush spreads across the angel’s cheeks and Dean wonders at it and then down at the flowers he’s holding, gesturing to them and trying to remember when they stopped. “…you like those or something? We can get ‘em for the bunker if you want.”

Cas angles his head, smiling. “I do like them.” He steps forward, gaze dropping to Dean’s mouth and then back up. “And, you don’t remember this conversation, but… I like you, too, Dean.” His brows knit as he tries to remember the exact wording. “Like catnip.”

Dean doesn’t remember, but something beyond memory does, something that has him smoothing a hand up the line of Cas’ neck to cup his jaw and slot their mouths together.

Dean freaking loves witches.

anonymous asked:

Something with plants prompt?

Well, seeing as this was a pretty broad prompt, I decided to have some fun with it.

“Hey, what’s this?”

Nino glanced over at the potted plant on his windowsill. “Oh, I’m keeping it there for my sister. Apparently, my window gets the right amount of light.”

“Yeah, but…” Chat Noir leaned forward to delicately sniff it. “What is it?”


Chat Noir raised a brow. “It smells really good.”

“I mean, I guess it smells alright.” Nino shrugged.

“No, I mean it smells really good.”

Nino straightened, alert now that he noticed the way Chat Noir’s speech was beginning to slur. “Maybe you should stop smelling it.”

“No, it’s fine.” He gently rubbed his cheek against the plant. “It just smells-”

Nino gently grabbed his tail to tug him away from the catnip. “Okay, I know you keep saying you’re not a cat, but just this once, I think you kind of are.”

Keep reading

melodramaticcmess  asked:

hello cat, I am human and my kitty died 4 months ago and i still sad and miss my old lady grumpy sweetheart. she was 18 tho and time for her to say bye. what suggest for cure sad?

have you try catnip? always make me happy. if not hunt mous or birb, nothing better than fresh hunt meal! :3

anonymous asked:

HC that the last time Sev cried laughing was when he bought a laser pointer and used it on Cat!Minerva; watching her spin in endless circles sent him into stitches. When she Transfigured back to human form, she was dizzy and irritated at him for playing a prank like that.

Bonus: Severus is walking towards his classroom when he sees a phial of Felix Felicis floating in the hallway.  Looking around from side to side, Severus chases it down only for it to zip out of his hand at the last minute.  Finally, he gets stuck halfway up the side of a large suit of armor while chasing it when he hears a familiar laugh from the shadows.  Minerva emerges with a smug look on her face and Severus glowers back.

“Some assistance, perhaps, Minerva?” he asks, his voice unable to hide his mortification.

“Of course, Severus,” she says with a wry chuckle, levitating him down and handing him the phial.

Severus hands him the laser pointer, looking chastened.

“Not much fun when the shoe is on the other foot, is it?” Minerva says.

“Hmph,” Severus responds, “Just you wait.”

A week later, Severus slips her catnip tea instead of her normal Scottish Breakfast.  After she doesn’t show up to her first Transfiguration class, Albus finds her in cat form, lying on her back and batting at sunbeams with her pupils blown wide.

Communication with Catnip

Some background information, my boyfriend has a lovely catnip plant that is growing amazingly and I really wanted to talk to it!

I begin by asking if Catnip would like to communicate. I use a spirit quartz pendant that I own as a pendulum because I feel this is the right stone to use. I receive a yes.

As I feel accepted as someone to talk to, I feel I am small and cradled by hundreds of catnip leaves, and I am falling downwards. They swirl around me and gently roll through the air around me. I land on dirt and I feel as if I am looking at it from below. I feel calmed and I can see Catnip’s energies flying around the wind.

I say why I am communicating with it. Catnip says it is happy to talk to me, saying that I clearly appreciate its power and it is making itself visible to me and willing to work with me.

I ask if it has a favored magical use.

“I aid in bringing out the calmness that everyone has, because I aid in bringing out the truth. This is the strongest truth that I can see.

But that is not my favorite, my favorite is hiding the truth, and providing fog to whatever someone may need to hide. Be it themselves, or be it something they want to avoid”

I hear this with accompanying imagery of fog hiding buildings and trees, that its blue gray energy can work in a similar way.

There is more to this conversation but I am cutting this post short due to private information! This was kind of an intense communication for me, and I am thoroughly exhausted as I am still a bit inexperienced and Catnip was a little bit um. Energetic.

I call bullshit on every garden blog that says you can plant catnip.

I’ve planted catnip a thousand times. Or transplanted it. or tried to start it from seed. It’s died every. goddamn. time.

The only way to grow catnip is to have it appear, spontaneously, in your yard. You must be chosen and deemed worthy.

It’s a lot like cats that way tbh

The One True Morty + Crazy Cat Morty = Cat God Morty

Brought into reality by the collective belief of the cat-loving Mortys throughout the multiverse, this Morty blesses his most loyal followers with the promise of a second life as a cat. Some say his presence can be marked by a faint scent of catnip in the air.

((As requested by @skitten219. Thank you for requesting!

anonymous asked:

(I'M IN MY ELEMENT!!!) She was talented, yes, but one could tell she didn't realise her full potential, her talents not yet spreading their wings fully. Her art was full of love and so was she, spreading positivity to anyone who crossed her with a simple drawing or short post to her blog - and while this story may not be just about her, she is relevant nonetheless, and by no means less important than the others. Everyone needs an amazing character to liven up a usually dull book - this is ours.

AA A A A A A  A A   A  A AA ????? AAAAA!!!!!!


Felicity liked team ups.

It meant seeing her friends from Central City: comparing notes with Cisco on the tech they were both developing in their own pursuits, laughing with Caitlin, teasing Barry.

So when Laurel suggested calling in reinforcements after a close call with a metahuman a few days ago, Felicity had been all for it. Not all for the metahuman wreaking habit on Starling, wait, no, on Star City, but all for the visit from Team Flash.

How was she supposed to know it would all go so wrong?

Everyone was in the new lair, celebrating the take down of their metahuman earlier that night, but instead of the easy camaraderie she had anticipated, it was just one giant pot of humiliation.

“All I’m saying is that you are clearly catnip to superheroes. Proof is in the pudding,” Cisco was still going strong despite her glaring, seemingly feeding off of the giggling of Laurel and Thea, “Just look at your dating history! Honestly, I would find it flattering.”

A low chuckle from her left had her spinning in her chair.

“Dig! No! Do not encourage this!”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me,” he laughed, holding his hands up and backing away from her.

Oliver and Barry were being big fat cowards over on the mats, pointedly ignoring the conversation and leaving her to the wolves. They were supposed to be sparring, Oliver having wanted to work on Barry’s technique now that there were other speedsters out there, but she was ninety-nine percent sure they were just avoiding getting called into the melee.

After her third unsuccessful attempt at beckoning them over so that she wouldn’t be the only one stuck being embarrassed, she threw her head back and reached the end of her rope.

“This is shaming. You guys are shaming me when I have nothing to be ashamed of!” Felicity squawked, but no one bought her defense.

“Come on, we aren’t shaming you,” Laurel reasoned,  rubbing Thea’s back where she was having trouble catching her breath from laughing so hard and smiling innocently, but Felicity didn’t like mischievous lilt to her friend’s mouth,  “You’ve slept with two of the three superheroes you’ve kissed, so most of them… That’s impressive by anyone’s standards.”

“Two! I’ve only slept with two that I’ve kissed! Two out of four is not ‘most’!” she yelled before she could stop herself.

Everyone went completely still at that. Felicity wanted to close her eyes and count back from three, but she made the mistake of catching Oliver’s eyes. Because, oh boy, now he was definitely paying attention.

She’d never seen that look on his face before, not quite the stoic blankness of their early friendship but not the open book she knew of late. His eyes were clear, but his mouth was pinched and his head tilted in confusion.

There was a beat of silence, broken only when Cisco started listing off names on his fingers.

“Um, hold on. Let’s break this down. One, Barry; two, Oliver; three, Ray; Four, …” he let the question echo in the lair.

Slowly, but creepily in sync, everyone turned to look at Dig, whose brows shot to his hairline.

“The hell? No!” Dig cried, looking over his shoulder at Oliver before turning fully, apparently deciding that giving the Green Arrow his back in the current situation was not a great idea.

If  the thought of kissing her psuedo big brother didn’t make her feel the same thing, Felicity might have been offended at the disgust in Dig’s voice.

“Gross, not Dig. Not that he is gross, but he’s basically family, and yeah, no…” she trailed off as all heads in the room swivelled back to stare at her expectedly.

Thea, apparently breathing easily again, questioned, “Dig’s the only other superhero, though?”

“Dig is not the only other superhero,” Felicity corrected, not really wanting to give answers but also not liking the fact that Thea seemed to be ommitting herself and Laurel from the category.

“Yes, he was,” Thea kept on stubbornly, cocking her head in the exact same way as her brother did when he dug his teeth into something he didn’t want to let go, “He was the only other superhero you could have made out with before you got with Ollie.”

Felicity was saved from answering by the sound of a code being keyed into the entrance. Sara came walking through a moment later, arms laden with everyone’s dinner from Big Belly Burger. She stopped in the doorway, frowning at the scene in front of her.

“Why is everyone staring at me?” she asked.

Cisco looked like his brain might explode as he looked from Sara to Felicity and back again.

“OH MY GOD,” he yelled.

Felicity put her face in her hands.

Originally posted by felicityremarkablesmoak

Once upon a time, the rough music had come for the old woman and her cat, oh yes, it had, and the people walking to its drumming had dragged her out into the snow and pulled down the rickety cottage and burned her books because they had pictures of stars in them.

And why?  Because the Baron’s son had gone missing and Mrs. Snapperly had no family and no teeth and, to be honest, cackled a bit as well.  And that made her a witch, and the people of the Chalk didn’t trust witches, so she was pulled out into the snow, and while the fire ate up the thatch of the cottage, page after page of stars crackled and crinkled into the night sky while the men stoned the cat to death.  And that winter, after she had hammered on doors that remained closed to her, the old woman died in the snow, and because she had to be buried somewhere, there was a shallow grave where the old cottage used to be.

But the old woman had had nothing to do with the loss of the Baron’s son, had she?  And soon after, Tiffany had gone all the way to a strange fairyland to bring him back, hadn’t she?  And nobody talked about the old lady these days, did they?  But when they walked past the place in the summer, the flowers filled the air with delight and bees filled it with the colors of honey.

No one talked about it.  After all, what would you say?  Rare flowers growing on the grave of the old woman and catnip growing where the Aching girl had buried the cat?  It was a mystery, and maybe a judgment, although whose judgment it was, on whom, for what and why, was best not thought about, let alone discussed.  Nevertheless, wonderful flowers growing over the remains of the possible witch–how could that happen?

Tiffany didn’t ask that question.  The seeds had been expensive to buy, and she had had to go all the way to Twoshirts to get them, but she had vowed that every summer the brilliance in the wood would remind people that there had been an old lady they had hounded to death, and she had been buried there.  Tiffany did not quite know why she thought that was important, but she was certain to the center of her soul that it was.
—  Terry Pratchett, “I Shall Wear Midnight”
Cat Protection Bag

You will need the following items for this spell:

  • 1 small velvet bag (color of the cat)
  • stones.amethyst and tigers eye are needed
  • medium size bag (8’’ long,5’’ tall)
  • paper,pen/pencil
  • powdered catnip (wild recommended)
  • rosemary (2 parts)
  • 1 green candle (health)
  • 1 pink candle (love)
  • 2 candles.(color of your element)
  • voice
  • fur of your cat

Set out all your items. Take the small velvet bag and put the stones in. Say:

 "for protection" 

and put them in. Next,take the catnip and mix it with the fur.Say:

 "for playfulness and happiness" 

and sprinkle it in the bag. Now,take the rosemary, and take it apart leaf by leaf. Say:

“from me to (name of cat)”

 and put it in. Take the paper and pen/pencil and write a little message/blessing to your cat. It will get it in its mind if it thinks of you. Bless it with candle magic and think of him/her as you do.
when you`re done say: 

‘blessed be (name of cat)“ 

and put the paper in.