And that means tomorrow is 4 years since the day I met my wife. Four years since I saw her selfie on tumblr and sent her a fan mail (she had her ask turned off lol) and told her how attractive she was. She felt the same, and we never stopped talking from that night on. I was in love with her in probably 48 hours, like head of heels. And now we are married ahahaha.
Have confidence in yourself and take some risks sometimes, because sometimes it pays off hahaha.
@witchy-wife I love you so so SO much, thanks for sticking around (: <3
I know that many of you only know me as the BREATHTAKING wife of Witchy-Woman, now this blog is where you will get to know me as the very WEIRD wife instead. Welcome to this non-sense, I will be happy to interact with you. As always, no personal questions will be answered since I literally cannot be serious, ever.
me: rests under the open sky and whispers magic in my sleep, uses astral projection to explore and learn and play with ghosts, elaborate and detailed journal, deep understanding of astrology, somehow already knows what you’re going to say, mysterious and soft but only on the surface, a knower of secrets, sleepy eyes, lives in a tree in a misty forest and makes friends with the plants and spirits there. Hoards blankets. Clinging, moody, possessive, indecisive, over-emotional. Caring, sensitive, nurturing, intuitive, shrewd, cautious, protective, sympathetic, feeling, contemplative, imaginative.
my wife: storm witch, runs barefoot through the rain and dances with lightning and shouts thunder, her laughter sounds like God, keeps trinkets and mementos in small jars around our bathroom, asks favors and learns from the clouds, bright and blazing as a flare and always ready to act, soft as a summer rain and cold as hail, hair is full of leaves and wind, feet are dirty but her mind is clean and sharp. Unpredictable, eccentric, rebellious, chaotic, detached, opinionated, absent-minded. Independent, individualistic, humanitarian, original, intellectual, inventive, idealistic, assertive, honest, loyal, friendly. And beloved.
My favorite part about being married is getting overwhelmed every day how wonderful and talented and damn attractive my wife is. Like it’s an every day thing. Ughhhhh, she is perfect. Nothing I would change, I couldn’t imagine a better life with anyone else.
The Sleepy writers are writing themselves into a hole with this never-ending Crane Family Drama. Ichabod is at his best when he’s with Abbie and they’re on the same page and working together. Period. Anybody that tries to argue that is a fool. When Ichabod turns his attention to being a good husband to his witchy wife and father of the year to their troll of a son he becomes insufferable but more than that he becomes stupid. I didn’t mind him trying to save his wife from Purgatory or even him feeling the need to save Henry even after it became more than clear that he was evil as shit. What I do mind is that Ichabod doesn’t learn and week after week after week after week he’s right back in the same stupid ass situation and he’s dragging Abbie right along with him.
If Katrina’s ultimate fate isn’t to become evil or sacrifice herself for the greater good then I really don’t know what the hell her character is still around for. Katrina being everybody’s favorite go-to damsel in distress got old a season ago and now it just irks that all the action has to stop so that Ichabod and Abbie can risk their lives and the fate of the world so that they can save Katrina from some shit she should probably be able to get out of her damn self. Actually, no, she probably couldn’t save herself. Whispering Willow’s latest parlor trick was to put a hex at the door in the form of some type of paper that would alert them when the bad guys showed up by catching fire. Cool trick, except for the fact that it worked 5 seconds before the bad guys bust into the room. A bell at the door would have been just as effective.
Ultimately, Katrina’s purpose is to cause strife between Ichabod and Abbie. She’s all Team Henry which makes her Team Evil even though no one wants to come out and say that. Her wants and desires are in direct opposition with The Witnesses’ ultimate goal which means her ass is a problem. Abbie gets it, Ichabod doesn’t and that’s another major part of the problem. They need each other but Ichabod can’t be trusted which means that Abbie is basically on her own. That’s why I am not here for Ichatrina. Their love story isn’t a true love story it’s an excuse to cultivate a relationship that is nothing more than a weapon against the Witnesses.
I'm probably too late but here are some prompts I've been selfishly hoarding: Abbie singing in shower,
Abbie getting ready for a date, Crane singing softly to a baby,
Crane is a stay at home dad, Putting gas in the car, Eating breakfast in a diner...
12 Days of Ichabbie Christmas - Day 10: Life in Vignettes
Water rushed through the pipes in the walls and mingled with the distant sound of shower water and Abbie singing a soulful new song from one, Adele. Ichabod loved that sound. When he heard Abbie singing, it was as if the very choirs of heaven themselves had lost a member. Her voice drifted through the corridors, down the stairs and seemed to wrap itself around him. When he watched her sing, he could see her relax. When he listened to her sing, he could hear her pour her emotions into every word. When he heard Abbie singing, he knew she was happy - and that was the greatest thing about her voice.
Ichabod could listen to her sing all day long, but he knew that that was unlikely to happen. All too soon, the water ceased flowing and with it, the beautiful accompaniment that was Abbie’s voice. He heard her footfalls above his head as she made her way from the bathroom to her bedroom. Abbie was grateful that Crane didn’t mind showering after her but she’d never know that he did it simply so he could enjoy listening to her sing.
* * * * *
Abbie turned to and fro in her mirror. She turned her head from side-to-side, making sure her hair looked okay. Her hair was fine but the dress had to go. Sighing in frustration, she slid the zipper down and tossed outfit number three onto her bed.
Why is this so damn hard? It’s just a date, Mills. You’ve been on countless dates before.
As she pulled another dress from her closet and draped it in front of her in the mirror to see if she liked it, she knew better than to answer her own thoughts aloud. Yes, it was a date. Yes she’d been on numerous dates in her life. But this wasn’t just any date. This was a date with Ichabod – and she was nervous as hell.
When he had asked her to formally court her as he put it, she’d thought it was charming and agreed. She hadn’t contemplated the implications or how exactly that would make her feel. Sure, they’d gone on many pseudo-dates before; the battleship, Mabbie’s, the farmers market, that one yoga class she’d tricked him into attending could all be considered dates – except of course that he’d been a married man at the time. That and his devotion to his witchy wife was enough to distance each of their joint excursions from being classified as dates. Now, it was different.
Abbie was tempted to just throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt but that wouldn’t be date-wear and it wouldn’t match what Ichabod had in plan for the evening: dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant and a stroll along the Hudson. Sighing, Abbie grabbed one of her favorite little black numbers from her closet, stepped into it and zipped it up. She twirled again, still hating the way she looked but was saved from trying on another by the chime of her doorbell. Padding barefoot down the stairs, calling out to Ichabod that she had the door, she stopped short when she pulled it back and saw Ichabod standing there with a bouquet of blushing pink roses.
“What are you doing?” Abbie smiled at him as she took the roses.
“We had a date planned this evening did we not, Lieutenant?” Ichabod bowed deeply as he took her hand and kissed it. “I believe it’s customary for the gentleman to pick-up his paramour from her home. Seeing as how we already share a roof, I thought this the more chivalrous approach. You look positively breathtaking. ”
Abbie stood on her tippy toes and places a soft kiss on Ichabod’s cheek before turning to put the roses in a vase. She ran back upstairs, grabbed her clutch and threw on a pair of gold and black laced flats. Suddenly, trying to find the perfect outfit didn’t seem nearly as important as getting out of the house and going on her date – with Ichabod Crane.
* * * * *
Ichabod couldn’t keep his hands off of her. She was so very tiny and so precious to him; he never wanted to put her down. Lori gazed at her father with heavy lidded, rich hazel eyes but kept fighting the instinct to sleep. They went through this routine almost every night. He knew that Abbie needed as much rest as she could get through the night so that she could work in the day so every time Lori fussed, he jumped out of bed and silenced the monitor before she could wake Abbie.
He’d rush to his daughter’s side, change, feed and swaddle her, and then the two of them would have a heart-to-heart about the importance of sleep and how it was their duty to see mommy well rested for the new day. It always ended the same way; Ichabod would wind up singing old lullabies his mother and sang to him to his little princess. Sometimes he’d sit in the rocker; sometimes he’d bounce her on his shoulder; tonight he cradled her in his arms as he stood right in the middle of the room.
It wasn’t long before her eyelids began to drift shut and the pacifier that was once snuggly lodged between her pouty lips, fell to the floor with a soft thud. With a final kiss on her brow, he placed the sleeping baby back in her crib, grabbing a new pacifier to replace the fallen one and turned to leave finding Abbie standing there smiling with her hand extended for him to clasp onto. Together, they headed back to bed, each reveling in the life that they’d never thought they’d have but were overjoyed to have received.