sleepy hollow fix

So I was poking around the PNWS Subreddit....

So PNWS fandom, remember a couple weeks ago when the powers that be dropped the news that s3 of TBTP was going to be 6 episodes? And remember the rumors on the subreddit that the reason the season was going to be so short was due to contract issues?

Well said redditor is back. Essentially, the post is saying that the season finale isn’t going to be a “masterful finale”. Allegedly, the reason for that being are  “internal arguments” going on with the production team, especially on how the supernatural events of the story are to be explained (real vs not-real). 

Before I dive into my own thoughts and feelings. I should emphasize that these are all rumors. I’m not claiming this is gospel truth and neither is the redditor. I’m merely sharing what I found here because I know some people here in the fandom don’t use Reddit. 

~Opinion Time~

Honestly? I’m not surprised since Terry Miles is in the picture. Yes, I’m going to keep dragging him to high heaven because I’m petty af and I think he’s the main cause of these internal arguments.

All I can really say is that, after the clusterfuck that was s2 and the quality slippage of s3 of TANIS, I don’t have high hopes for a proper send-off for TBTP. This rumor doesn’t help. 

Thoughts? Opinions? Rumors of your own? Want to drag a certain writer? Go on ahead and reply or reblog this, I’ll be up all night!

Fix You: An Ichabbie Fix It Fic

(A/N: Fuck the season three finale. If you’re wondering why this is so late, it’s because it took me this long to calm down enough to write a fic. AU where Abbie and Joe lived. How I think the story should have ended.)

“Abbie, no!”

It’s all she hears as she walks towards the glowing box with her death written in its script. She makes it about three steps away before Crane’s condor arms envelop her waist and snatch her off her feet. She struggles against his lean frame, surprised to find that he’d tightened them around her like a boa constrictor’s coils.

“Crane, let me go!” she orders. “I have to! I don’t have a choice!”

“No, Leftenant,” Crane says, digging those long fingers in as if he intends to set down roots to keep her put. “It doesn’t have to end this way. Remember what you taught me? There is always another way.”

She squeezes her eyes shut as his words dig into the cold pit of her stomach and sting. “Not this time. We have to stop him. It’s me or the world, Crane.”

“No,” he murmurs, and then turns her around. He leans down to her height, clutching her arms, smiling sadly. “It’s us or the world.”

Her breath catches as she realize what he means. “Crane, please. I can’t let you do this.”

“Neither can I. And so we will do it together. We are the Witnesses. Quoth the lady, ‘What you do, I do.’ There is no world without you in it, Abbie. If we must face the Grim Reaper, we shall do it as God intended it.”

He slides his hand down her bicep, her elbow, to hers. His are cold and clammy and shaking the slightest bit, but his smile is steady. She swallows hard, tears burning in her eyes, then nods slowly.


They walk towards Pandora’s Box and set one hand upon the lid each. The light explodes and then they are gone. The last thing she feels is his fingers squeezing hers.

Keep reading


2/ favorite female tv characters

Abbie Mills [Sleepy Hollow]

Bunnies Writes a Fix-it Fic

This was written fast because I’m working on something else bigger but this has been in my head for a week or so. And there is no real way to fix this Sleepy Hollow mess but I had to inject some humor into the whole thing. 

Ichabod Crane was standing by the shore of the River Styx. He was in the clothing he had on the first time he died, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Death never explained itself or its reasons for such tiny things, he imagined. Death was above that.

But here he was, looking like a war was raging around him when he had never felt more at peace.

He heard the paddling of a boat, the oars dipping in the water, the pull ahead, then water dripping as the oars came back out of the water. He stood and he waited patiently. He had nowhere else to be at this point anyway.

“Ichabod Crane!” he heard shouted across the silence when the boat got closer. He was smart enough to know not to say anything yet. Abbie Mills rowed the boat to shore and he stood facing her wrath. “I’ve been dead for what? A few months now? What in the hell are you doing here already? If you weren’t already dead, I’d kill you myself!”

“I can explain,” he said, sticking up a finger in the air to silence her. She took an oar and whacked his finger down.

“Get in the damn boat and explain,” she said. “I already paid for you to cross. Figured you’d have no coins. And you get to row.”

He clambered into the boat and she moved so he could do the rowing. She still looked just as irritated but a twitch of a smile crossed her lips as he sat down, facing her. She looked like an angel but she always had. Her hair was gloriously curly and her face beamed like the sun.

“I know I was supposed to go on for years being a Witness,” Crane started, choosing his words carefully. Which is how they got in this trouble in the first place. He was always too careful with his words. “But then the government intervened. They had all these ops they wanted me on, searching out the supernatural. I honestly already thought they had a division for that.”

“Go on,” Abbie said, looking at him incredulously.

“So I was out in the field one day, working…”

“Working? For pay?”

“Yes. I’ll… well, I guess I can’t pay you back now, can I? I’ll figure something out. A trade of services? So I was out working for the government and the paperwork was hell and I got tired of filling out requisitions for automobiles…”

“Yeah, I know how that is,” Abbie said, nodding her head.

“And this thing – I don’t know what it was. Some sort of snow beast came out of nowhere and I thought I’m tired of this. I’m tired of living. I have seen enough since 1749 and I didn’t want to do this without you anyway. We weren’t meant to do this without each other, Lieutenant. Ever,” Crane said, looking out over the water.


He turned to face her, staring into her brown eyes. “Instead of fighting it… the snow beast… I let it hit me upside the head and that was that. Here I am. Now they can have two new Witnesses and we can spend an eternity together. If that’s all right with you?”

“You were supposed to keep on fighting.”

“Only with you at my side. Neither of us were supposed to bury the other.”

“I guess there’s no going back now, is there?” Abbie asked. Crane shook his head. “I have missed you. Oh, God, how I’ve missed you.”

“And I have missed you. The ache, Abbie. At first it was denial but then once the ache set in, I thought I’d never be warm again. I’d never feel again. All I did was go to work and get your house ready to sell and sleep in the archives and… dream of you,” he said. “And how badly I messed up.”

“Messed up?”

“By not telling you. Or showing you enough. Or letting go and taking a chance. But Grace Abigail Mills, I love you,” he said. Abbie raised an eyebrow and watched him for a moment, unsure she was ready to say that back. Not that there was any hurry. They had forever now. “And how I never had the courage to do this.”

He brought the oars up and put them aside before leaning forward and touching her face gently. Her hands went up to the sides of his face and drew him closer to her. They were kissing, so soft and sweet, like they should have done a thousand times while they were alive. He was just glad that line between life and death didn’t change how this felt. He pulled away, and resumed rowing again, as she considered what had just transpired between them.

“You died so you could kiss me?” she asked.

“I died hoping I’d get to do a whole lot more with you. To you. I hope… is that possible in the afterlife?” Crane asked, eyebrow cocked.

“Oh, you better believe it is,” Abbie said, her joyous laughter echoing over the river.

And Crane started rowing faster.

I love how Clifton Campbell or whatever his dumb name is danced around all of the important ‘you screwed up and you know it’ questions during his finale interview.  I want him to fall into a swirling vortex of no return. And I want to win a big lottery and hire the Sleepy Hollow actors and season 1 writers and rewrite the show and treat Nicole Beharie like the queen she is and make the show what it used to be and end it with Ichabbie domestic by day demon fighting by night with a healthy dose of Jenny and Irving and somewhere in the series, we will have an annoying coworker named Campbell Clifton who is always hitting on Abbie and he ends up getting eaten by a dinosaur that Orion is riding because.


“You will never take me again.”

“I know you feel it. The darkness within your soul…  w h i s p e r i n g  in your ear… telling you - you MUST KILL YOUR SISTER!”

NEVER AGAIN, Ancitif! The days of you tormenting my sister, they’re over.”

Excelsis Deo

His lieutenant was always in motion. Stillness eluded her. She was forever flitting from one task to the next, ticking items off lists, going, going, going.

Now, she stopped.

Ichabod could scarce stand to look at this awful false tranquility. And yet he could not look away. Again and again, he watched the only movement she made: The steady rise and fall of her breast.

Had he been alone, he would have given in to the despair that plucked at him with grim fingers. Would have sank to his knees and buried his head against her and never risen again.

He could not do this. Not without her. Not anymore.

But to indulge in such an act would be infinitely selfish. Not only would he be useless, he would rob the potency of Miss Jenny’s grief.

She deserved it more.

But God on high, he wished he could hold the lieutenant, cradle her in his arms as she had him. Press his hand to the flat bone of her sternum and count every blessed breath.

He could not do that. The tangle of wires that bound her to the bed physically prevented such action, while propriety socially precluded the act.

Damn propriety.

But all he had were his words. For Miss Jenny, yes. She needed comfort. But more importantly, for Abbie.

“It is your duty to rest. Heal.”

His lieutenant did not understand rest. Oh, but she understood duty. And if in some shadowy netherworld she could hear him, she would know what she must do to fight her way back to him.

“It is not your time.”

But despite pretenses, these last words were not meant for her.

O Lord, remember your promise to us. It is not her time. This is not the way. Give her back and we shall be Your faithful.

He left, to be God’s hands on earth.

Let's right this ship folks

I know it’s painful. I know none of us are here for Whispertits, but if we want our show back to what the Exces envision -“their wish is to “return the fun” that was a hallmark of Season 1 - then we need to tune in. Live. Every. Single. Monday.

We need to trend the show. We need to show them how invested we are. We need to make as much noise as possible about Abbie, about Frank and Jenny, about the Crane/Abbie dynamic. We need to raise hell over Katrina’s uselessness and existence. 

Are you with me?!

i have never wanted to rescue a ship and a show from its own dumbass writers more than i want to rescue ichabbie and sleepy hollow