and i like his ichabod as well


hey guess whos gonna use her own gifset as an excuse to talk about Ichabod and Calamity? thats right, I am!

and honestly its just cause both Ichy and Calamity definitely lived through the transition of traditional Hollow to industrialized Hollow. which means that, when they were much younger, they spent their childhood running their streets, probably changing forms at will! and they were simply accepted along with the other children. there might have even been other child spirits living there at the time. but then the Industrial Men came and all that changed. Being a spirit was taboo, and dangerous, probably. And i think a lot of the strain we see among the family (Calamity, Ichabod, and their parents) comes from that, and the different ways Calamity and Ichabod adapted to survive. 

Obviously, Ichy conformed. Hard. I would bet that he spent all of his time after the ‘IM arrival’ in human form. and i mean he didn’t go crane for solid years, depending on how long Calamity and him stayed in Hollow after things kinda went to hell. Like, that was how Ichabod survived. He eschewed spirit hood. He wore a wig, kept to his human form, and blended with the rest of society. That guy who knew him in school has no idea that Ichabod is a spirit! and tbh this was probs hard for Calamity to watch, just as her rebellious spirit was hard for Ichabod to see.

Cause let’s be real here guys, Calamity went in the opposite direction. she would go human to avoid being grabbed up and tossed in the asylum, but only as a way to keep herself outta there. otherwise, she was lizard as often as she possibly could be. she made friends with the kids of the traditionalists, probably skipped a helluva lotta school, and ignored the society that had grown to hate her. tbh she probs had a lot of near misses, times that scared her family half to death, but Calamity rebelled against the changes brought by ‘the IM’ by being herself twice as hard as before!

So Ichabod looked at Calamity, and he saw her putting herself in danger and being reckless, while he viewed his way as the smart way. The way to survive until things changed, or they left, bc being targeted by a whole town wasn’t something he thought they could survive. and Calamity looked at Ichabod and saw him stifling himself, slowly suffocating who he truly was just to fit in. As far as she could see, to lose sight of who they were was a worse fate than Hollow turning against them.

and im not saying either way was right or wrong. they were both kids who had to deal with the fact that their hometown was turned against them, and they both adapted in the best way they could. its just that their ways were very very different. 

Im trying to clean up my half finished fic folder lol. Here’s a thing about Ichabod and Abbie escaping the Underworld, written when we all thought Abbie was chilling with Hades somewhere Queenin’ it up and shit LOL.

Straight Ahead


The King of the Underworld was sort of a prick. Abbie thought this but would never say it out loud, fearing he had ears everywhere. This was his domain after all. But she thought it furiously.

Only a prick would “Eurydice” her like this, not letting her look at the face she’d been aching to see for so long. But at least he let her leave. There was that. But still the rules remained; If Ichabod even turned to look at her she would stay here, forever.

She tightened her grip on his large hand, her heart jumping when he squeezed back with his elegant fingers, lightly calloused from a life of taking up arms against threats.

They travelled for some time in relative silence, each wanting to say everything to each other but not knowing where to start.

Abbie had missed him terribly. She missed his self righteous rants, the way his forehead wrinkled and his eyes widened and oh my god his eyebrows…she could wax on and on about how much she missed the stiff arch of his thick brows raised high on his face as he complained.

Crane was unusually quiet now that she thought about it. She usually couldn’t get him to shut up. Was this really him? Maybe Hades was fucking with her. She expressed this idea to Crane and he echoed her sentiment.

“What do you propose we do about this Lieutenant ?”

She considered thoughtfully for a moment and then said, “Tell me something only I would know. That’s how I figured out the Fake You from the Real You when I was trapped in Purgatory.”

“Would you like to go first?”

“Nah, you go. I have to think of something first.”

“As you wish…Oh for God’s sake!”

Ichabod swiped at a hell beast, stabbing it through with a sword made of very hard-to-procure Stygian Iron, never once letting go of her hand. Abbie was impressed. She was also a bit aroused too, if she was honest. She tamped down hard on her bottom lip, trying to put away such thoughts for a more suitable time and place.

Ichabod took a moment to gather himself and replace his sword in its sheath before they began walking again.

“You wash your hair on Sundays and you always wear a ratty New Edition shirt, that I’ve tried many a time to get rid of…”

“I KNEW you tried to throw it away! “Mistake” my ass!”

“That frock has every manner of hole and bleach stain on it. I do not know why you insist on keeping it.”

“Exactly because it’s so messed up. I don’t have to care about it getting ruined because it’s already ruined” she laughed at his low grumbling.

“Ok…my turn…” Abbie thought a moment, “Oh! You sing Beyonce songs while you shower,” Abbie smiled as she heard a surprised squeak from his mouth, “Flawless seems to be a favorite.”

“Long Live The Queen.”

Abbie buried her laughter into the back of his coat. She dropped the hand holding his to grip his waist. She told herself it was to steady herself while she cackled, but no, that wasn’t it at all.

She liked the feel of him beneath her fingertips. She liked having reasons to touch him. Her heart quickened, remembering his head against her breast, her lips on his forehead.

His hand covered hers. He didn’t turn his head. She knew he wanted to.

“You like to order pepperoni pizza, but you never eat the pepperonis,” Ichabod stroked the smooth skin of her small hand and she found herself snuggling into his coat even more, “I always find them casually placed next to my slice when I’m not paying attention.”

She shrugged, “I like the way they make the cheese taste but I don’t like them. You like everything. Well at least food wise. I’ve never seen you turn down a meal,” she smiled, “Where do you put it all?”

“My brother used to say it all went to my forehead.”

Here in the dank, dark pits of Hades’ territory they were laughing, navigating their way out thanks to a map so graciously provided by the King of the Underworld himself.

“Mm let’s see…Oh! your favorite Disney Princess is Tiana, Belle is a close second.”

“I do quite admire Miss Tiana’s determination and drive . It is a quality I most appreciate in a woman.” His nervous energy seemed to go right to his fingers, they could not stop twitching and moving against her own, interlacing and caressing. And so her body moved on its own, feet lifting up onto her toes and her lips pressing against the exposed patch of his neck, her nose nuzzling in the thicket of his hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo which he always stole. She pretended to mind, but she didn’t really.

“Thank you.” She said quietly into the shell of his ear. He shuddered and she saw the goose flesh pop up on his neck.

“You run your fingers through my hair when you think I’m fast asleep during movie night.” He whispered quietly. They were in different territory in more ways than one, as they neared the river Styx. This was not just a fun little game anymore.

“ I knew you weren’t asleep. I always know. I just like the way your hair feels against my fingertips…” She demonstrated, raking a small hand through, relishing in the feel of his scalp scratching beneath her nails. He swallowed loudly, stumbling into the boat, holding onto her hand tightly as she climbed in behind him.

“I’m going to kiss you breathless once we escape this place.” He stated matter of factory as he dropped her hand and grabbed the oars attached to the boat and began rowing.

“Oh you better.” She smiled slyly.

I bet the reason school-chum/vineyard guy seems so oblivious about Ichabod being a bird is because Ichabod never let people see him transform. Like, he wore a wig, and even with his life in danger choose to remain human just because school-chum was standing there. 

He’s only ever meant well for Ichabod, he just wants Ichabod to have a good time, or find love, or be where he can be himself, from school-chum’s perspective. He’s just never seen Ichabod as anything but a kinda funny human.

I like this guy, he seems nice and I think he really believes he’s good friends with Ichabod.

Can we please give Belle some friends beside Rumple. Like the new people from the Land of Lost stories would be great.

Here’s a list of characters that would befriend Belle and Rumple.

  1. Anita- (101 Dalmatians)-They’d start a small book club. it would be adorable.
  2. Eric(Phantom of the Opera)- Belle just attracts men that have a flair for theatrics. Eric’s the kind of extra that drops chandeliers on people.
  3. Adam and his wife(Frankenstein’s monster and his bride)- They could go on double dates and it would be cute.(Don’t lie)
  4. Mad Madame Mim- (Sword in the stone)uh more of Rumple’s friend(And I’d love to see this character as a real person)
  5. Mina Harper and Johnathon- (Dracula) They could go on double dates as well.
  6. Ichabod Crane- (Sleepy Hollow) - Again I think just Rumple’s friend.

If you can think of any other character that would join Belle French’s squad just at them in the comments.

Time Transcending

Ichabod Crane x Reader

Word Count: 1,521

Warnings: none 

Summary: What are you, Ichabod’s past lover from the 18th century, doing here in modern time Sleepy Hollow?  

A/N: A big thank you to @bovaria for helping me with this and looking it over for me when I finished and another thank you to both @elyshakate and @bovaria for continually encouraging me to do this :) Love you girls loads!! :* Feedback would be very helpful in deciding if I should do a part 2 or not!!

Originally posted by tonight-you-are-my-little-bitch

Keep reading

Christmas Truth or Dare

I was fortunate enough to get our-destinies-entwined for my Secret Santa. I was thrilled, especially considering her amazeballs blog is the entire reason I joined tumblr in the first place. You asked for a naughty Christmas fic so hopefully, this Secret Santa delivered!

*         *          *

Abbie had pulled up to the cabin at the beginning of sunset Christmas night, planning on keeping Ichabod’s mind off of Katrina’s departure and Henry’s disappearance. She didn’t know how but she knew that whatever she did, rum would be involved. She cared about Ichabod too much to let him celebrate alone. She had planned on keeping his mind occupied; she just didn’t realize how occupied she would keep him.

*          *          *

“What was your favorite thing to do on Christmas as a kid, Crane?”

Ichabod smiled, a distant look clouded over his eyes as he thought about his past.

“We’d tell some of the most disturbing ghost stories imaginable. They were terrifying enough to put your favorite Mama to shame.”

Abbie scoffed and made a face. “Ghost stories? Who tells ghost stories on Christmas day?”

“The English have held a long standing tradition of telling ghost stories on the Eve of the holiday.”

Abbie cringed at the thought of hearing the tale of The Ring being told to children as part of Christmas Eve. She couldn’t imagine sending kids to bed with visions of evil things crawling in their heads instead of dancing sugar plums.

“Uh…no. What else you got?” Ichabod grew quiet for a moment as he sat across from Abbie on the floor of the cabin beneath the Christmas tree.

“Games. We’d often play charades to pass the time.” They had already given charades a go once and it didn’t turn out well. She wanted something that would keep him on his toes and hopefully from thinking about Katrina and she thought she had the perfect idea. Grabbing the bottles of rum that she’d brought with her, she shook them at Ichabod.

“Have you ever played truth or dare?”

*          *          *

He watched as Abbie tried everything she could to take his mind off of what she assumed would consume him this holiday. He could see the determination in her eyes to make sure that he enjoyed his Christmas – that he felt needed and loved. How he wished he could tell her that she was all he craved. How he longed to let her know that she had long since made any notion of Katrina fade from his mind. How he yearned to show her just how he planned to worship her.

But he couldn’t. He would never dare to tell her that he was in love with her.

*          *          *

When did we finish that bottle of rum? Explaining the nuances and point of truth or dare to Ichabod had taken the better part of ten minutes. Once he’d gotten a firm grasp on it however, they were off on a back and forth battle of truth or dare mixed with a decent amount of rum. Out of the three bottles that she had brought with her, they had somehow managed to go through one and half already.

“Truth or dare, Miss Mills?”


“I dare you to…” Ichabod tapped his chin trying to think of something decently embarrassing but nothing over-the-top, “flap your arms and cluck like a chicken.”

Abbie acquiesced, giving it her all. She collapsed in a laughing heap on the floor across from Crane who had doubled over at the sight of her. After taking another hearty sip or rum, it was Abbie’s turn to take control.

“Truth or dare, Crane?”


“Do you ever think about me when you’re alone?” The question spilled out before Abbie even had a chance to contemplate what she was asking. She sat stunned, looking at the expression on Ichabod’s face which had gone from shocked to distant.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I asked that. Let me ask you something else inste…”

“Yes.” He said it so softly she wasn’t sure if she imagined his response or if he had actually answered her.

“Wait. Did you just say yes? That you…thought about me?”

“You had your question. I believe it’s my turn now Miss Mills. Truth or dare?”

Abbie sat in stunned silence, shaking her head to clear away the buzz that ran through her brain before she answered. “Truth.”

“Do you think of me Abbie? When you’re alone and in the dark yearning for something that you can’t name; do you think of me?” Ichabod had abandoned his rum. The only thing left to intoxicate him now was Abbie. The scent of her jasmine perfume mixed with the pine from the Christmas tree and the cedar of the cabin – filling his nose and sending him on a sensory overload. He watched a battle ensue on her features; fear, hope and desire clashed for supremacy. He held his breath in anticipation of her answer.

Abbie closed her eyes and took a deep breath before looking at him. Should she tell him that she would often wake up in the middle of the night with her hand between her legs, imagining that her fingers were his stroking her until her body hummed?

Would she ever be able to look him in the eye again if he knew how often she had thought about his beard scraping her skin as he lavished each of her breasts with his lips? Could she tell him how she had imagined riding him – his one hand cupping her ass while the other rubbed her clit, making them both scream as she felt him come inside of her?

She didn’t know if it was the alcohol making her this bold or the fact that this moment was a long time coming but it didn’t matter. She had started this line of questioning and she was determined to finish it. “Constantly.”

Ichabod’s breathing became more shallow and rapid and his lips parted and he stared at her from across the small space between them. He could see a flush creep up her neck to her cheeks and he wished that he could kiss its trail.

“Truth or dare?”


If she asked this, they would be past the point of no return. There wouldn’t be any turning back for them, but she was willing to take the chance.

“What are you doing to me when you think of me Ichabod?”

His name falling from her lips sent shivers throughout him. They so rarely called each other by name that each moment was like a silky kiss across the skin. He could feel his prick begin to strain against his pants and judging from the look on her face and how she licked her lips, Abbie could as well. He ran his hands up and down his thighs slowly, drawing her eyes to his body.

“That depends. There are times when I close my eyes and I am simply holding you, kissing the line of your elegant neck and nibbling your ear. Other times, your legs are wrapped tightly around my waist and I thrust into your silky wet sex, making you climb higher and higher in ecstasy.”

Ichabod watched as Abbie’s lids fluttered, he breath hitching at his descriptions, her hands wandering seemingly of their own volition across her body. Her lips parted and he watched jealously as her tongue darted out to taste them.

“There are times still when my head is buried at your apex, determined to lap and suck every ounce of you that I can until I hear you scream my name and feel you shudder around my fingers.”

Abbie was strung tighter than a bow. She had fantasized about the feel of Ichabod next to her, on her and in her – but she never thought he would ever return the sentiment. Hearing him explain in lurid detail what he wanted to do to her set fire to her blood. She wanted to lung across the empty rum bottles and presents and touch every part of him until she had him memorized but she held back. After all, this was just a game, right?

Clearing his throat and ever so slowly adjusting himself in front of her, knowing that she would watch his hands as they moved, it was his turn to ask: “Truth or dare, Abbie?”

“Dare” she whispered, barely able to contain herself.

“I dare you to come and let me show you how I’ve thought about you.”


WeAreWithYouJohnnyDepp Challenge

22. Favourite old Johnny Depp movie. (1984-1999)

I love Arizona Dream, What’s eating Gilbert Grape, Nick of Time, Benny & June, Edward Scissorshands, Donnie Brasco, Don Juan De Marco (and I haven’t watched some of the others yet such as Brave for example), but if I have to choose a favourite I’ll go with Sleepy Hollow. It’s not because I think it’s a better film than the others, but because I was shocked to like it. I don’t like the horror genre but this film was done in a way anyone can watch it and appreciate it for what it is; not exactly a scary, horror movie but an ode to them.

Ichabod Crane is an interesting, wonderful, childish, intelligent, out of his time character and one of my favourites as well.

Sleepy Hollow (1999)
Director: Tim Burton, Starring: Johnny Depp, Christina Ricci, Miranda Richardson, Christopher Walken and others.

Ichabbie Blurb that we all need at the moment: Right (Ichabbie Fanfic)

“Can I kiss you?” Danny said.

He and Abbie sat on his desk. She didn’t say anything as he leaned in to kiss her. She liked Danny and wanted to give him another chance. He was important to her, but when he kissed her, it wasn’t everything she wanted or needed. It felt right, but it didn’t feel right.

When his tongue filled her mouth, when he moaned, when his fingers touched her cheeks, all she could think about was Crane. How would he respond to her? How would it feel? Would it feel like something was finally in place?

He stopped kissing her. “I would kiss you longer, but I have to get back to work.”

He pecked her lips before he stood. He helped her up.

“Coffee sometime this week if you aren’t doing the whole monster killing thing?”

She chuckled. “Sure, Danny.”

He squeezed her hand, smiled. She returned it and left his office.

Abbie shut her front door. Crane waited in the living room for her. She took off her shoes, badge, gun, and blazer.

“I was coming back, Crane,” she said, standing by the sofa. “What’s this?”

He had the chess board set up on the floor with Chinese food containers.

“I thought we could play a round as we enjoy dinner.” He positioned himself on the floor, held out his hand. She took it and sat down.

“Got my favorite?” she said.

“Spicy Mongolian chicken, fried rice, two fortune cookies, and a beer? I can never forget your likes.”

She opened a container, moved a piece. “You also have an photographic memory.” She raised her eyebrow.

“True, but even without my memory, I will still remember what your favorites.” He shifted a piece.

“If you say so.” It was her turn now.

He nodded, and she shook her head at him, smiling. She knew it was true though. She remembered things about him. That he doesn’t like French toast and that it annoyed him when he didn’t wear socks. He didn’t like his feet. He was weird sometimes. That was okay with her.

“You’re a piece of work, Ichabod Crane. Play.”

He did. They ate in silence and played the game.

“Are you alright, Leftenant? You are normally trash talking.”

“I’m just thinking.”

He held a piece in the air. “Could this have something to do with Mr. Reynolds?”

Abbie’s chicken wasn’t what warmed her cheeks. “It might.”

“Did your talk go well?” He put his piece down, smirking.

“Yeah.” She took a break from the game to eat some more food. “I think he’s starting to understand.”

“That is good.”

There was a short pause. “I let him kiss me.”

She didn’t know why she said it to Crane. It’s not like she owed him anything or had to explain herself. Her love life wasn’t any of his business, yet she wanted him to know.

He looked in his container. “You don’t have to go into details, Leftenant. That is, after all, your personal business. You do not have to share.”

“It’s okay, Crane. It’s just….”

He stared at her, waited. Was this hard for him? He was kind of jealous of Danny when they first met. He’s been an okay sport about him lately. Of course, it was for her though. Not because he actually liked Danny. But what did she know?

“It was nice, but it wasn’t…right. Does that make sense? If you don’t want to hear this-”

“No, no, please. Go on.”

“I didn’t feel what I was supposed to.”

“What were you hoping for? What does ‘right’ feel like to you, Leftenant?” He sat his food down.

She sighed, titled her head to the ceiling. “I don’t know. It wasn’t that though. Not even close.” She stared back at him.

“Can you try to explain?” He folded his hands in his lap, something he did when he was curious.

“I don’t know. I guess it…feels like a vibration up my spine or a tickle in my stomach. A flutter throughout my body.” She laughed. “It sounds silly.”

“Not at all, Leftenant.”

She smiled at him. “That’s what feels right. I wanted that.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but he closed it. His fingers twitched.

“What, Crane? Just ask me?”

He played with a chess piece. “I am sorry you could not attain that. Would it be alright if I kissed you to give you that feeling or attempt to? Plus, I am rather curious and would like to know this feeling of right you speak of.”


She wasn’t expecting that. She did want to kiss him but was surprised he asked in the first place.

“If you do not wish-”

“I do.” She stood. He did, too.

They stepped away from the Chinese food and game.

“Would you permit me to pick you up? It may be easier if we are close to the same height?”

She softly hit his chest, nodded. Crane was being real brave. He must have really wanted to kiss her. It couldn’t have just been curiosity and giving her what she wanted. She put her arms around his neck, stood on tip toes. He gripped the back of her thighs and lifted them to circle his waist. They were level now, breathing in each other’s breath. Abbie already felt the vibration in her spine. Crane stared at her to make sure she wanted to do this.

“Kiss me.”

He did. Her stomach tickled. His tongue slipped in her mouth. She slid her hands through his hair to bring him closer. The taste of the fortune cookie and his gentle and quick tongue made her want him more. She sighed. His beard softly scratched her finger tips.

“Leftenant,” he said between their kiss. “Abbie.”

She kissed him again. He nipped her bottom lip a few times. Her legs tightened around him. He moaned as he fully enjoyed her lips again. He stopped kissing her and walked them to the couch. Their foreheads were together. After he lay her down, he climbed between her legs. She felt his erection, wrapped her legs around him. The flutter in her body took over.

“Do you feel it, too?” she said.

“I do. It is the most magnificent feeling.”

She kissed him again. Her tongue found his. This was what she wanted. This was right.

Ichabod was going to tell Abbie he loved her and here’s why.

I’ve watched this scene about 50 times now. I’m very tired, but I just had to get this out of my system.

I am a total sucker for slow burn relationships. To me, it makes the relationship all the more worthwhile if we get to watch that chemistry grow and develop and become something beautiful over time. Strangers to friends to lovers is one of my favorite tropes, and it’s even better when the two people involved are so thickheaded and can’t see what’s right in front of them, even when everyone around them can. 

The moment when Abbie and Ichabod come back from Purgatory was more intimate than I could have every imagined. It was all I really needed to know that this relationship is anything but platonic. (I mean we all kind of knew that already, but ya know.) But I theorize that that was the moment when it hit them both. I think they knew that they loved each other, but I’m not so sure they knew in what way. Abbie and Ichabod have this bond, right? Which automatically makes them incredibly close to one another. Ever since they met, they have learned to know the other better than they know themselves. With something like that, especially in a story with all these fantastical elements, it’s not too far of a stretch to wonder if they both mistook any budding romantic feelings and disregarded them as their strong bond. I mean think about it for a second; Abbie is so incredibly guarded. She’s spent years building up these walls that she’s not so sure she wants to let come down quite yet. I want to say that Jenny and Ichabod are the only two people who have really seen her truly vulnerable, which automatically increases the level of intimacy. Ichabod was married for the first two seasons (which I’m not gonna rant about Katrina’s wasted potential because she could have been such an amazing character and wasn’t given the proper character development she deserved). I don’t think he could even entertain the thought of being with someone else while still married to Katrina. Even during all of this, their relationship grew into this unbreakable bond, which neither of them could have ever expected. I think that after Katrina’s death and during all that time Abbie and Ichabod spent away from each other, they felt the other’s absence more strongly than anything. The cliché, “absence makes the heart grow fonder,” is actually pretty valid in this circumstance. The more they’re forcibly taken away from each other, the harder they fight to get back to one another. 

Ichabod was going to tell Abbie he loved her during that last scene in 3x10. There was so much emotion between the two of them throughout the entire episode, but that last scene… Oh my God, it was so raw and so beautiful. I feel like we were witnessing their realization. For the first half Abbie could barely look at him because she was trying so hard to control herself. She had a death grip on his hand while she just stared at nothing. In Purgatory she couldn’t hug him, she couldn’t touch him, nothing. In Purgatory she thought her brain was playing tricks on her when she heard his voice. So she held on while he talked so she knew this was real. HE was real and she was home. When she looks at him again she can’t look away. And the whole time Ichabod is just staring at her like he can’t believe she’s here in front of him, like he can’t believe she’s really here and she’s really, truly safe. He looks at her like she’s his entire world (as he has several times this season).. And then there’s a moment after Abbie whispers, “We made it,” when his eyes grow wider and he looks at her like, “…oh…” and then he shifts a little, like something has just made itself known to him. For the first time he breaks eye contact for the first time and ducks his head to look down before getting to his feet.  I think this was the moment when Ichabod especially realized, “if I lose her, I lose part of my soul. I lose my other half. I lose the person I love.” Both their actions alone just screamed, “I love this person more than I initially realized.” And when they get to their feet Ichabod doesn’t let go of Abbie’s hand. He’s still holding on when Abbie turns to kiss Joe’s cheek. When she turns back around, he’s looking at her before his eyes drop to their hands. 

Looking at Abbie, her hand looks like she’s about to let go. Abbie has her moments for intimacy, but she normally can only take so much. Abbie is a very, let’s get down to business to defeat the huns, and kick some ass, person. She knows when to set all other things aside and step into her role as a Witness. But she also has that side of her that’s emotional and cares so much, which is what makes her such a fantastic and well-rounded character. They’re having this moment and Ichabod senses that he’s about to lose it. So he holds on. He brings his other hand up and just holds on to her before he has to let go. He runs his fingers over her hand like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen. His eyes move from their hands to Abbie’s face. And then he looks at Joe and we finally get a sense of how nervous Ichabod is. His mouth is partly open but he can’t find the words. When he looks at Joe, you know he’s thinking about that conversation they had in episode 7. You remember the one:

Ichabod: “There is nothing more frustrating than the feeling of helplessness in the face of an unknown foe, which is why we must seize control whilst we can.”

Joe: “Hm?”

Ichabod: “Talk to her.”

Joe: “…Right… What about you? I get the feeling it’s not just rage monsters that make you feel helpless.”

Ichabod: “Well… I have become well acquainted with the vicissitudes of life.”

Joe: *Chuckles*

Ichabod: “But yes, I have become keenly aware of late that I may be fighting a losing battle. On many fronts, against bureaucrats, against developers, against-” *He breaks off suddenly as his eyes find Abbie across the room. His eyes dart away as soon as they see her and his hands, which he’s been using to indicate his list of struggles, drop to the desk. But not before he’s indicated towards Abbie. He’s suddenly very interested in this book.* *Whispered* “Against many fronts…”

Joe: *Understanding dawns on him as he looks at Abbie.* “Well maybe you should take your own advice. Talk to her.”

Yeah. That one. 

When Ichabod now looks at Joe, you know that conversation is going through his head. Talk to her. So he’s going to. He takes a deep breath and pulls Abbie’s hand to his chest. He’s going to confess that he loves her right there.

So why does he stop?

Well, I think there’s two options here. One is that he chokes at the last second and just can’t confess yet. But personally I think that’s unlikely. 

I think that Ichabod realizes it’s just not the right time. 

For one, Abbie desperately needs time to rest. Being completely alone like that for so long does things to a person’s head. Abbie was playing chess against herself to try and keep herself remotely sane. She was alone for 10 months and while she might not have had to eat, sleep, or drink, she’s got to be exhausted not only physically but emotionally. She needs time to recoup and Ichabod respects that. He wants her to know, but only when she’s ready. So he makes another call, cracks a joke, and makes everyone laugh. He’ll save the romantic gestures for another day.


Expecting screencaps from “Ragnorak,” weren’t you? Well, there’s a good chance I haven’t even seen it yet. I’m on vacation. In South Africa. So we’ll cover the S3 finale next week.

Instead, this week I give you handporn from “Dead Cat,” the utterly charming and irreverent film he made many years ago with his friends, and which was recently made available on Vimeo. Rent or buy it here. I highly recommend it. Tim Hawkins is NOTHING like Ichabod Crane.

Sleepy Hollow fic:

Title:  Improbable Home
Rating: G
Pairing/Characters: Ichabbie, Ichabod, Abbie, Jenny, Joe
Word count: 2273

Summary:  “Absolutely not,” he folds his arms, “naming a human being is a solemn duty – there will be no trifling with websites.” future fic, set some time after the series; Abbie is pregnant, Ichabod frets.


Abbie rocks on the bed in the position Ichabod has learned is most comfortable for her lately, with her legs folded and tucked under her swollen middle, and she hums to herself. It’s 2AM and she can’t sleep – Ichabod has fetched her mint tea, and an antacid, and ice cream (without pointing out that that would seem to somewhat defeat the purpose of the antacid – he has learned that such commentary will get him what Jenny calls ‘the stank eye’). He has rubbed her shoulders, and fetched her a different blanket – the one she prefers – from the den, and warmed her lavender scented wheat bag in the microwave oven, and offered to read to her from Paradise Lost. And still, she cannot sleep.

So now she rocks, and hums, and rubs her belly, whilst Ichabod tries not to pace.

“You are sure there’s nothing wrong?” He asks. “We could call Doctor Reed – he did say – ”

“I’m fine, Crane,” she waves a hand, “I just can’t get comfy.”

“We could call, just to be safe – ”

“It’s the middle of the night. A doctor is not going to get out of bed because an insomniac pregnant lady has acid reflux and a backache,” Abbie ceases rocking momentarily, “stop pacing.”

“I’m not pacing.”

“You’re twitching,” Abbie jabs a finger at him, “you’re like a big old grasshopper over there. Come sit down.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

“I don’t get it.” Ichabod frowns as he follows one of the more cordial guards, Michael, down an unfamiliar hallway. “To what do you refer?” Ichabod asks, taking in all he can to commit to memory. Michael stops abruptly before a nondescript door and swipes a card to allow them entrance. “How did you do it?” Michael asks. Ichabod’s cuffs are removed and they continue through the room. (1/?)

It’s furnished with one table and one chair but there is another door on the far wall, identical to the one they just entered. “Where are we?” Ichabod asks, suddenly wary. Michael swipes his card again and just shakes his head. “Must be something I can’t see,” Michael says, and opens the door to reveal Grace Abigail Mills. Ichabod considered his memory perfect but it was a poor record indeed when compared against the real thing. (2/?)
Greedily he takes in her appearance; her hair is shorter, just gracing her delicate brown shoulders. The bodice of her dress consists of horizontal black and white stripes, clinging to curves Ichabod knew existed but unfortunately rarely witnessed, her bosom welling from cups that seemed woefully inadequate every time she took in a breath. It accentuates her tiny waist then skims softly with gauze like fabric. (3/?)
He hears the rustle of the material over the roaring in his ears as she comes closer, an enigmatic smile upon her full lips. Ichabod and Michael swallow audibly, Ichabod drawing himself up to his full height as Abbie stops just inside of his personal space. Her eyes flicker to Michael and she gives him a sultry grin. “I’d like to be alone with my fiancé now,” she purrs, and Ichabod almost gives the ruse away at the way he cannot stop blinking down at her. (4/?)
Yes, please,” he says, turning to Michael and immediately scowling. Michael isn’t staring at Abbie’s face, but at the ocular feast of cleavage and collarbone. “Yeah, right.” Michael shakes his head and looks at Ichabod sourly. “How. Just how,” he mutters, but closes the door behind him. Suddenly Ichabod is terrified he’ll look down and it won’t be Abigail but some hulking demon sent to destroy him at his lowest. He deserved it. (5/?)
“You’ve got to play along,” Abbie says lowly as she moves even closer to him. Automatically Ichabod curls his arms around her slight form to accept her and though there has been no communication between them for almost a year it still feels painfully natural. A part of him loosens with her in his arms, and he presses his face against the crown of her head and breathes in the subtle shea butter and tea tree oils from her moisturizers. (6/?)
Suddenly there is so much he wants to say but none of it can move past the boulder of guilt in his throat. “Leftenant, what -” he murmurs, finally. “Sometimes you’ve gotta improvise,” she says, beaming up at him. “But as my fiancé?” Ichabod asks. “Couldn’t use my credentials and I couldn’t come as your sister,” Abbie points out. “This gives us privacy and a little more time.” (7/?)
Ichabod nods and glances around the room. It’s spare, one chair and a full sized bed shoved against the fall wall. No windows save one pointing inside the room Ichabod was pushed through. He gapes at the bed and Abbie can’t help but chuckle. “Need to do better than this,” Abbie mutters before she laughs and leans up to brush her lips against his. “We’re probably being watched,” she exhales against his mouth. “They would watch?” (8/?)
Part of Ichabod requires him to stalk from the room and box the ears of those who would think themselves worthy to see his fellow witness in anything less than full battle gear. “Focus,” Abbie snaps lowly, and Ichabod’s hands flutter with barely restrained ire. “Let’s sit down,” she suggests. Ichabod nods, wary of the bubbly, light Abbie before him. He feels unworthy to even touch her but he follows her and sits stiffly in the only chair. (9/?)
Abbie looks at him for a moment before gathering her skirts and straddling his lap. “What are you doing?” Ichabod hisses, dismayed at how quickly his member rises to tumescence and unsure of where to put his hands. He yearns to place his hands beneath Abbie’s skirt and rake his fingers up her glorious thighs until he fills his hands with her delectable backside. Ichabod wants to press his face against the impossibly fully mounds of her cleavage and inhale the scent that haunts his dreams. (10/?)

art-and-other-rhythms  asked:

Ichabbie prompt if still open: I don't know if you've ever seen Fringe, but at one point one half of OTP imagines/hallucinates the other half of OTP, "I'm just a voice in your head" kind of thing. Do for Ichabbie: Crane imagines/hallucinates Abbie while she's still in Hades. She can guide him, needle him, etc. :) :) :) <3 <3 <3

12 Days of Ichabbie - Day 12 (and super late): On the Fringes

The first time it happened, Ichabod thought he had gone mad. Jenny had just left the Archives to talk to one of her contacts about some rare books and left him alone in his grief. They’d been pouring over anything and everything they could find about The Hidden One, Pandora and what exactly that tree was. Ichabod had just pulled another book from the growing stack of books next to him when he heard her voice behind him.

“Crane, what the hell are you doing? You know you aren’t looking in the right place.”

Ichabod bolted out of his chair, spinning and knocking over tomes – some as old as he – when he saw her. Abbie leaned her hip against the table that still held her laptop. She regarded him with an easy smile and her arms folded over her chest.

“You don’t really think the answer to how to find me is in those books do you?”

“Abbie!” Ichabod rushed over to where she stood but as he reached her, she had disappeared. Ichabod turned and turned in circles, trying to will her presence back into the room. When it was obvious that the vision he saw was just that, a figment of his imagination, it broke him anew and he fell where he stood, sobbing and feeling the loss of her all over again.

                                        *          *          *          *

The second time, Ichabod had been sleeping on the couch. He hadn’t slept in his bed since she’d sacrificed herself to save them all. Something about sleeping in a bed made him feel like he wasn’t working hard enough so he’d taken up residence on the couch, sleeping only once his body forced him to.

Ichabod dreamt she was sitting above his head on the arm rest. Abbie brushed a stray lock of hair away from his eyes and frowned down at him.

“Why haven’t you come for me yet, Crane?”

“Abbie, I – I’ve been searching for weeks. Your sister and I both have –and Joe as well.” Ichabod sat up and turned to her tentatively reaching out a hand to check and see if she was real. His hand hit air, though the vision of Abbie remained. “You aren’t real?”

“I am real. I’m real to you. I’m here,” Abbie said pointing to Ichabod’s head, “and here” she finished by pointing to his heart.

Ichabod swallowed audibly, trying desperately to keep the tears that threatened to reemerge from falling again. When he spoke again, his voice cracked and he couldn’t help the sob that followed, ushering in the tears he had fought against. “I miss you, Lieutenant. I miss you more than words could possibly convey.”

“Then come find me, Ichabod.”

“I’ve looked everywhere…”

“No you haven’t!” Abbie’s voice rose. It was the closest she’d ever come to yelling at him and it drew Ichabod up short. “You aren’t looking where you should. Use that damn eidetic memory of yours and think, Crane. Use your heart.”

When Ichabod awoke, it was with a start that caused him to turn and look to see if her specter remained. It hadn’t. He still felt her presence on the fringes of his consciousness, but she was gone. Seeing Abbie like this – a virtual ghost of his own making – it ripped him apart but it also made him want to work harder. He would find her. He knew he would.

                                        *          *          *          *

The third time Abbie appeared to him, Ichabod had returned to the tree. Use your heart she’d told him. His heart had led him there. It had led him to the very spot where he’d lost her. He kneeled before the tree, touching the ground reverently, imagining that he could feel here through the ground. When she spoke, her voice came from behind him. He didn’t stiffen in tension or turn this time. He just allowed her – this faux Abbie – to fill his senses.

“You’re finally starting to get it, Crane.”

“The only thing I am getting, Lieutenant, is frustrated.” Ichabod stood and turned to face her then. How he wished she were real. How he longed to crush her in his embrace and tell her all of the things he’d never had the courage to. But he couldn’t do that. She wasn’t Abbie. She wasn’t real. “Why do you keep appearing? Why have you been pestering me and keeping me away from finding the real Abbie? Are you an agent of Pandora’s?”

Faux Abbie’s face filled with sorrow and heartache. It was an image, Ichabod was sure was reflected on his own countenance. She walked closer to him then, her hand hovering just about his heart. When he closed his eyes, he imagined that he could smell her. Abbie always smelled like a combination of Shea and jasmine. It was an intoxicating mix that Ichabod missed almost as the woman who wore the scents.

“I keep appearing because you need me. I’m here because there’s a part of you that knows where to look and how to find me but won’t admit it.” She raised her eyes – the same warm brown eyes he’d gazed in for several years – and looked at him then with a combination of sorrow, anger and resignation. “All you have to do is say it, Ichabod. Say it and you’ll find me.”

Faux Abbie moved then and walked toward the tree. She may not have been real. She may not have been his Abbie, but she was all he had left. Ichabod turned to stop her, reaching out to grab her but only touching the gnarled tree.

“Abbie, wait! Please don’t leave me again! I love you!”

The tree glowed red at his outburst, opening its wide mouth to let him enter. The image of Abbie flickered before him with a smile that seemed to glow brighter than the energy radiating from the tree itself.

“I told you to use your heart, Ichabod.” Faux Abbie stepped further into the tree, still smiling at him. “Now, come find me.”

When she disappeared again, Ichabod no longer worried that he’d never see her again. He knew then how to find and save Abbie. He knew his heart would lead him to her. He knew his love for her was the answer and had been all along.

Tempus Fugit


*clears throat*


This was our show again. 

It was ours. 

The one we fell in love with. The show that was funny and scary and so densely woven around the idea of these two people with this one destiny. The show with big action sequences and tiny moments of beauty and joy. This was smart and compassionate and clever and dumb all at the same time.

Whatever happens next, we have this. 

  • That opening. I don’t claim to know anything about film, but anyone can see the difference Len Wiseman brings to the table in those opening scenes. The musket balls, the details, the angles, the slo-mo used with just the right touch. Thrilling and beautiful and wonderful. The show is always pretty and interesting. This was gorgeous. 
  • Current sexuality: Ichabod Crane clubbing people with a musket. Good Lord.
  • The dynamic between the Witnesses in the jail cell is so interesting. Because Crane holds all the physical power – all of it – but Abbie holds the intellectual power. She has the knowledge, not just of the future, but of him. And God, she uses that. Criminal profiler Abbie Mills is at work here, make no mistake. The careful way she talks to him, like he’s the mad one, that too-gentle, too-precise tone. It puts him on his heels and puts her in a position of control, puts him in a place where he can – and must – question everything.
  • And then she continues it, even once she’s out. The whiskey on the battlefield – that’s a calculated move. What does Ichabod Crane value most highly? Knowledge. Whole life has been about the pursuit of knowledge. So when he sees this woman who knows something he doesn’t know, who seems to own it with such confidence? There’s no better way to get his attention than that.

Keep reading

homecomings [ichabod x abbie]

Post-series one-shot. Abbie takes Ichabod to Oxford for Christmas. Also on and AO3.

From the moment they nearly missed the shuttle to JFK because Ichabod was arguing with a nearby nine-to-fiver in a suit about the unfairness of the present American legal system, and subsequently sat in traffic with his stare boring into the backs of their heads because of course he was on the same bus, Abbie began to lose her confidence that this would actually work out. This was shaping up to be just as complicated as any of their demon-fighting escapades (not least because Ichabod kept whipping his head around to stare suspiciously at innocent passersby, and it was freaking her out) even though it was supposed to be, for once in their ridiculous lives, fun. She had promised Ichabod that she would take him to Oxford for his Christmas present, and was now doing (or attempting to do) just that. But the prospect of loading Ichabod Crane aboard a transatlantic flight with carefully minted but obviously fake ID documents, while getting him to shut up and/or not say something unfortunate at the exact wrong moment, and not being met on arrival by MI6 or Interpol, was one to boggle even a professional.

Fortunately, Abbie supposed, she was nothing if not that. Getting Ichabod a passport in the first place had been hell and a half; she had to invent all sorts of stories about him being raised in a commune and having no official birth certificate or vital records, while he huffed disapprovingly in the background. Since he was so obviously British, she had thought about approaching the consulate in New York City, but then they would ask even more difficult questions, and with Ichabod being unable to provide proof whatsoever that he existed, they would justly get extremely suspicious. It was best to keep this in Sleepy Hollow, where she could exert at least some control over it, and with Irving’s help, they eventually decided that Ichabod was a naturalized U.S. citizen (he had been in the country since before its actual founding, and for several centuries) who had been born in Britain. (Abbie didn’t know if there were communes in Britain, especially in the starchly proper part of Wiltshire Ichabod originated from, and it made her head hurt, but never mind.) That way, they were able to acquire him an American passport, complete with a picture of Ichabod looking like a deer in the headlights, which was perfectly legal insofar as long as you ignored that everything in it was a lie. Nor did Abbie think that her “born with the hippies” cover story was going to fly very far if anyone started digging. Though Ichabod, with his ratty ponytail, predilection for vintage clothing and total disdain for modern life, could possibly pull it off.

Keep reading

crankyandbitter  asked:

NEVER EVER STOP WRITING OR I WILL FIND YOU!!!!!!! Okay, as far as a prompt: how about Jenny and Joe prodding Crane to confess his feelings about Abbie after she goes into the tree, especially when Crane sees Joenny all affectionate and handsy with each other? :)

12 Days of Ichabbie Christmas - Day 3: Confessions Pt. 1

Weeks. They had been pouring over Washington’s Bible, Grace Dixon’s journal, apocryphal texts, ancient manuscripts and forgotten lore for weeks - all to find and save Abbie. He hadn’t gone back to her home - their home - he couldn’t; not without her. He lived in the Archives now, if you could call what he was doing living.

Every day, Jenny and Joe would come. They’d bring him food and force him to eat but there was no taste anymore. There was no point in eating, no point in doing much of anything other than finding a way to free her. He could feel the way that Jenny and Joe looked at him when they thought he wasn’t watching. They looked at him with a mixture of pity and fear. He watched them too, though he doubted they noticed.

He saw the way that Jenny leaned into Joe whenever she fretted over whether or not Abbie had survived. He noticed the small and tender kisses Joe would place on her temple as he pulled her in close. He’d even seen them in a passionate embrace as he went to enter his base of operations but was wise and courteous enough to turn silently on his heels and leave the Archives for a time. Ichabod was glad that Joe had taken his advice and admitted his feelings to Jenny. He was truly happy for them. He was just also terribly bitter and broken that he couldn’t enjoy the same affections with his Lieutenant.

“Let’s call it a night fellas.” Jenny stretched and closed the voluminous edition of ancient Norse runes and their meanings as she stood to put it away. They’d been at it for seven hours straight at least. She was tired; she figured Joe was as well. Mostly though, she wanted to give Crane a break. He’d been going non-stop; she was worried that he would crash before they made any actual headway.

“Might I remind you Miss Jenny, as Benjamin Franklin once said to me: “You may delay, but time will not.”” He rose up out of his chair, his finger hoisted up in true Ichabod fashion. “The longer we leave your sister in the underworld, the less likely that we will be able to bring her back.”

“Not for nothing Crane,” Joe shrugged his shoulders into his coat as he walked over to Ichabod, “and don’t take this the wrong way, but how do we know that’s even where she is? How do we know she’s even still…”

“Are you questioning whether the Lieutenant still lives? After all you know of her and her fire - her fight, you doubt her resilience?”

Joe raised his hands in surrender, backing away from the simmering rage he could feel emitting from his friend. He felt Jenny’s hand press gently in the middle of his back as she slid next to him in support. With her free hand, she grabbed Ichabod’s still raised hand and looked him deep in the eye.

“We don’t doubt that Abbie can do anything. We also don’t doubt that it’s your love for her that will not only save her, but save you too.”

Those words silenced him instantly. Had he been so obvious with his affections for his partner?

“I don’t need saving. She does. And of course I care, very deeply for your sister, however…”

“Cut the shit, Crane.” Jenny tightened her grip on his hand making it harder for him to pull away from her. “Just admit it! Admit that you love my sister. Admit that you’re in love with her.”

“I can’t…” Ichabod’s response was a soft and broken whisper.

“Why not man? You told me to ‘talk to Jenny’. I did and look what came of it.” Joe was exasperated. He knew Crane loved Abbie. Hell, anyone with a brain and eyeballs could tell he loved her. He just didn’t understand why Crane wouldn’t admit it to himself. “Why can’t you just say it out loud?”

“Because if I do, if I admit that I am completely in love with her and have been from nearly the very moment we met, than I not only admit to being a cad and a scoundrel, I admit that this is entirely my fault!”

Ichabod’s booming baritone bounced off of the tomes that lined the shelves of the archives. He pulled free of Jenny’s grip and turned his back to them so that they wouldn’t see the raw pain that the truth made him feel.

“Had I simply been honest and plain with her, all of this could have been avoided. Abbie would be here with us now instead of trapped in some hell that I shudder to even imagine.”

Jenny ignored Ichabod’s grief and stood angrily in front of him.

“First of all, Abbie didn’t go into that damned tree because of or for you. She did it because she thought she owed me something when she didn’t because she’s a stubborn pain in my ass!” Jenny jabbed her finger into Crane’s chest repeatedly as she allowed her tears to fall as openly as his. “Me asking her not to do it didn’t stop her. You begging her not to do it didn’t stop her. Do you really think telling her you loved her would have changed her decision?”

Ichabod looked into Jenny’s eyes. They were so much like her sisters. They shared the same fire and intensity; a trait he’d come to admire in both Mills sisters. She was right, of course. He was being selfish and thick-minded because of his own pain. Nothing anyone said or did would have stopped Grace Abigail Mills once she set her mind to something.

“You should have told her you loved her a long time ago Crane, but not because it would have stopped her from sacrificing herself. She would have done that anyway. You should have told her because she would have gone into that tree knowing how you felt - knowing the depths of your devotion to her. She deserved at least that.”

Jenny and Ichabod both broke down then, holding onto each other as if the other were Abbie. Ichabod cried shamelessly into Jenny’s hair. They were tears of grief - of course - but they were also tears of relief and hope. Saying the words out loud had lifted a tremendous weight off of his shoulders and with that burden lifted, he no longer felt like the way to finding Abbie was shut to him. If anything, confessing his feelings made his path ever clearer.

“You are right, Miss Jenny. She deserved and still deserves exactly that.” They broke apart, both smiling at feeling a sense of calm and resolution wash over them. “Between her fighter spirit and our love for her, we will bring her back to us.”

“Does this mean that you’ll finally tell her how you feel once we have her back?” Joe had given them their moment together but had joined them now, giving Ichabod a brotherly punch on the shoulder.

“Indeed, Master Corbin. I will not only tell her the depths of my love for her; I will spend the rest of my waking days showing her and proving to her how loved she is.”

I don't mean to start shit. Really, I don't..

But as much as I loved Ichabod coming to realization over his relationship and opening up to Abbie in the end..

I really don’t want Abbie being a consolation prize. Nah bitch. You gonna have to put in some work if you think you gonna get with Abbie. You can spout all those pretty words of being devoted together, but you need to step it the fuck up and start showing it. 

Don’t have Ichabod be like ‘Well, my marriage is fucking up. But hey! Abbie never leaves me. So maybe..' 

Abbie ain’t here to be your unrequited lovesick girl waiting for you to get a damn clue. I do like the writers at least have Abbie respecting the Crane’s relationship and giving them space/not really putting in her two cents until it’s in regards to strategizing for the war.

But CRANE! Abbie Mills is everything. She ain’t that cheap flavor ice cream you picked up over at the gas station. You need to show something and win her over. I want the struggle to be real. I want him to fight for her. I don’t want this relationship handed onto his lap for saying a few quick, sweet nothings. 

Abbie deserves better. Ichabod deserves better. That’s all I’m saying.













credit for the gifs go to supagirl.

anonymous asked:

why do you think ichabod's family storyline isn't as compelling as abbie's? i'm not asking as if i disagree (i think his family drama is absolute trash) but i'm wondering why you think it might not be resonating with fans like abbie's does? do you think it's because it's unrelatable?

Well, I think the biggest problem is that Ichabod isn’t a character that’s designed to have so much dramatic focus. His development and storylines are undercut by his own premise.

Crane works best when he’s used for humor or exposition, because it doesn’t require you to really dig that deep into his character. When he’s discovering something from the 21st century or is out of his element, he shines. Or when there’s a ton of dialogue that reads like a lecture, it’s best when given to him since that fits his character, i.e. the professor from Oxford. When the writers try to bring “realistic drama” into Crane’s storyline, it falls apart rather quickly. Crane is an outlandish character, so any serious attempt at grounding what he’s going through is hard to digest and comes off as ridiculous. If Sleepy Hollow’s storytelling was structured differently, I don’t think Crane’s storyline would be as tedious.

The show does a lot of “What you thought was one thing in the past is actually something completely different” storytelling. That works for Abbie because her past is still with her in the present - Jenny is around. Joe is around. Corbin, Lori and Andy all are/were around. We meet people who knew her before she met Crane, like Sheriff Reyes and Luke, or even randoms like the bank teller in 2.03 and the case worker in 2.04, so her past is still relevant. The supernatural has a presence in Abbie’s life, but it isn’t the reason for everything that happens to her. Her relationships exist outside of the supernatural. Her life exists outside of the supernatural. Abbie exists outside of the supernatural.

For Crane, everything about him, including his existence, is entirely dependent on the supernatural or is just downright ridiculous. To start off, he was apparently at every event in the Revolutionary Era and knew everyone…ever, so yeah, it’s hard to really take him seriously from jump. So then we’re left with his relationships providing insight and backstory, but that works against him as well. All of the people who knew Crane should be dead. All of the meaningful relationships he developed when he was younger should also be long gone, because unlike Abbie, his past should not carryover into the present. So how do the writers get around that? By doing wacky shit. Bring his best friend back by making him a headless demon soldier of the apocalypse. Make his wife a witch over 200 years old that was trapped in purgatory. Make his son a warlock who was buried alive and still living now. And then how do they create meaningful relationships between Crane and characters he had no contact with for 200 years? By centering their drama around hurt feelings, love and secrecy, because those are the only things that could arguably last for so long - and that in and of itself is a huge stretch. Nothing about what happens in Crane-centered storylines is organic, so trying to ground it in reality is even harder to wrap your head around. The only time it has ever worked IMO was when Ichabod learned he had a son. It was one of those few times for Crane where it was a realistic story (learning about being a father and dealing with the loss of a child you never got a chance to meet) that was put in a supernatural setting. It worked because it was human, and you could at least understand Crane’s loss, even if you found it uninteresting.

I swear, it’s like Crane and Abbie’s storylines are unintentional antitheses of each other. Abbie lives a grounded existence that is elevated by the supernatural. Cranes lives a supernatural existence that is grounded by reality. The problem is that works really well in one case and not the other. It’s much easier to digest that everyday occurrences are really fueled by otherworldly shit as opposed to crazy shit being born from relatively normal things. For example:

  • Lori committing suicide and suffering from mental illness being revealed as her being tormented by demons for protecting her children vs. Henry selling his soul to the devil and murdering people to bring about the end of days because his parents hurt his feelings
  • Jenny committing multiple felonies being revealed as an attempt to protect her sister from being hurt while Jenny was possessed vs. Abraham becoming the Horseman of Death and wanting to murder Ichabod because he wants to marry Katrina.

When you compare them to each other, Crane drama just looks…fucking ridiculous and petty. And until the writers figure out a better way to do his storylines and family drama, it will continue to be lackluster.