hailthequeens said:

Top 5: Our Ships YUP I WENT THERE

Oh, bloody hell.

This is not in any particular order. I repeat. This is not in any particular order.

  • Nikasha. ( For obvious reasons. )
  • Minny. ( A new love. )
  • Babohn.
  • ( The sun shines around them. )
  • Catcrow. ( Who ever thought this would happen besides Auntie Mab. )
  • Brucky is tied with Jereux. ( The first deserves so much happiness and gets it; and Jereux is so domestic when it shouldn’t be. ) 

The rest of them: Derry. Dawbil. Babe. Jivy. Lallegra. Ginny & Henry. Cash & Tia. Penny and Cash family bonds. Lujacks. Ginny/Lux. Tylice. Ash, Cal, Selene family bonds. Dawbil baby. Nikasha itty kitty. Two verses. 


fearthelittlemonsters said:

Catcrow. Brucky. Dawbil. Babe. Virginia/Henry ( I need more of that in my life tbh. )

c a t c r o w

  1. the umbrella, when it rains - cat tries, oh she tries. but paul always ends up taking it from her because metal being jabbed into his head isn’t all that fun.
  2. the popcorn at the cinema - paul. cat will spill.
  3. the baby, when it cries - cat. growing up in a close-knit, matriarchal coven meant playing auntie to lots of babies.
  4. the ice cream cone, when they share - cat, probably because she wants the ice cream more but also because she likes smudging it on his face.
  5. the remote, when they sit down to watch a movie - paul; cat will somehow manage to pause or stop the movie by accident.
  6. the basket, when they go shopping - cat, because she has a very specific idea of what she wants when she goes shopping. that is, until she doesn’t, and gets distracted. then, paul gently takes it from her. and/or if it gets heavy, he takes it.
  7. the door, on dates - cat. she’s just taught to be polite and doesn’t remember boys are “supposed” to do it.
  8. the other’s hand, most often - cat usually takes his hand first and most often.
  9. their breath, upon seeing the other on their wedding day - paul. she doesn’t look like a regular bride — rather, like the best kind of fairy tale (the ones where witches get a happy ending).
  10. the camera, when they take pictures together - cat, taking too many, until paul reminds her to live in the moment (and also gdi turn the flash off he’s losing his sight).

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hailthequeens said:

Catcrow: "The way I figure it, everyone gets a miracle."

Paul didn’t know what it was to believe in miracles. What was a miracle? Was it relative to that one significant line in the theatre where a rose with alternative names still smelled as sweet? He clenched his jaw and he looked down at the ground, because looking there was much better than becoming enthralled with the glow in her hair and the magic in her irises.

Sitting back from the rest of the camp, looking onward, she had decided to mention this, to plant it as though it was a seed in her garden, to cultivate it and allow it to settle in the soil, to let it grow as it should. Paul was a tumultuous beast, and Cat, as he had bestowed upon her ( and let it be known that was his nickname for her and no one else’s ) knew it well.

She was talking of the convict and the other hunter, of sorts, and the two researchers, and how on earth all of them had conglomerated together into a makeshift functioning mess. Could it be called functioning, what this group did? Meandering from one place to the next with a growing plot, twisting and turning like thorns in his hands? He had needed a break. He had gone off into the woods, and he had paced, and he had pulled at his arms and his hair until he could do no more. And then, he had returned.

So in this, she was talking about him as well.

"I don’t believe in miracles," was the short response, the stick in his hand reaching out to poke against the moist silt beneath the fire pit. "But I suppose I should start. I mean - you haven’t gone anywhere, yeah?"

So much for the constant brooding hunter status.

fearthelittlemonsters said:

♬ for Catcrow.

♬ Dancing along to Halloween music.


"Isn’t this technically Christmas music?” 

He moved in a sluggish way, compared to the agility she knew he possessed and often utilized in different scenarios. Cat ran all the way around him instead, one hand trailing along his torso and lower back as she laughed and came to face him again.

No.” She took his hand, the one scarred and calloused and bitten and broken (and surprisingly gentle) and jarred him from his position for no completely necessary reason other than she liked the look on his face when he couldn’t anticipate something. 

(Probably because

it was the first uninhibited emotion she has seen from him

and the only one she had been privy to

for some time:


"Well, technically, it’s a Christmas movie. But -” She paused, breath coming in short form as she threw her body about in movements both graceful and completely odd. “This is when they’re in Halloweentown still, so it’s a Halloween song. C’mon!” She jutted their hands up into a peak, her arm completely straight. His was likely only raised at slight angle. “Don’t you have Halloween down under?” She was some kind of tipsy on the mulled wine she’d been drinking all night and the infused incense that had been filtering through the trees like pretty aromatic fog and the rest of her family was still at the Eve celebration and she could have pulled Paul into bed but this had seemed like a much grander idea, and gosh she liked how he looked in her old room with a kid’s pretend witch hat on his head.

(There was something more intimate, she was realizing, in doing things that weren’t physically intimate. Not that she minded those things regardless).

And he was smiling, just a little bit, with the right corner of his mouth, and to others that may not have been very much of a smile at all but Grey - Cat, now, as he had renamed her - was really damn proud of that small curve because it had taken her months to even pull that out of him. (Asides the timing, she also knew that it was a real smile, as much as any grin on anyone else. Cat was learning there was wonderful things to be found in the subtle). That smiled blurred as she twisted round and round and round on the pivot of their hands’ grip, round and round and round, as the world blurred and she giggled and began to lose her grip on sight and the ground, the spins becoming sloppy.

"Besides, you are dating - you are dating - a witch." It came out between demented pirouettes, breathless laughter, and just when she was about to stop herself, she was being pulled into the air with a tight (gentle) grip on her waist. The sights blurred around her as Paul’s face came into focus. She flexed her numbing toes as she gave herself a sense of gravity by holding onto his shoulders. (All it usually took to steady herself was the reminder of his solid, earth-stained hand on hers).

"My girlfriend is a witch.” He correct, and that wonderful half smile was interrupted by the chewed stick of an old lollipop. She plucked it from between his teeth. “An absolutely, completely, wholly crazy and slightly-drunk witch that is probably going to throw up on my shoes in the next two minutes if she doesn’t stop spinning right now.” Then, his lips parted, and she knew the saying was trick or treat but she didn’t think there had been anything sweeter than this grin and decided this year she would just say treat when the kids came to the door. “And I’m absolutely mad for her.”

She didn’t know if it was the mulled wine or his full smile or both but she laughed and when he kissed her she kissed him back, pulling her legs up around his waist.

"So…" Her hands moved from behind his neck to his pulled back hair. "You’ll wear this hat tomorrow?"