- Katrina: See what had had happen was... That bitch tripped on a root and I was like "OMG bitch you alright???" But you know I couldn't let her fuck wit what we had so I permission slipped a note for you so you could move on with your life bae...
- Me: ..... Really bitch? Can't stand your wannabe practical magic ass.
Abbie and Ichaboo would already be in between the sheets if this show was:
A. On HBO or showtime
Or B. Written by shonda rhimes
because you know no fucks are given about the sanctity of marriage by either of those options!
But as all Ichabbie shippers know..we must have patience. In due time fellow shippers..in.due.time!
Let’s give it to season 1 Shonda, because by season 3 everything’s falling apart and we’re left bereft after every episode
- At least 5 Ferguson officers apart from Darren Wilson have been named in lawsuits
- Ferguson police accused of assaulting children
- Shaun King has 15 questions for Darren Wilson (storify)
- Ferguson protesters brace for no indictment
- Is it legal for the police to shoot an unarmed, surrendered citizen?
- Black teens are 21 times more likely to be shot by cops than white teens
- The Big List of Ferguson Live Streams
- Cops on crime drama: We caught the killer!
- Me: Not with 35 minutes left you haven't.
I’ve read a fic in the past where Abbie and Ichabod have to face the ‘seven deadly sins’ and that’s something I’d like to see on the show. Somehow Henry casts a spell on the town and people are committing these sins.
And for the Ichabbie shippers - Abbie and Ichabod have to face down lust. :P
They’re breathing each one another’s air now, and neither backs down. Abbie can feel Ichabod’s throat flex as he swallows desperately and if she so chooses she can lean forward just a little and scrape his skin with her tongue.
"You need - " She can barely speak because all of her energy is going toward forcing her body not to take a step closer.
"Yes, Abigail," Ichabod says, and he sounds wrecked and all he’s doing is pressing her against the wall.
Abbie could move. Abbie should move.
"You need to back up," she says, scraping up a bit of strength from somewhere. "Ichabod, please," she whispers.
“Grace Abigail, Grace Abigail,” Ichabod murmurs against her cheek. “I think we both know you’ve always been the stronger of us,” he says, and with a fluid motion lifts her into the air.
Abbie’s the one that wraps her legs around his waist, she knows this, and it feels amazing but -
"Ichabod, you’re still married," she pants into his mouth. It’s an almost kiss, a could’ve been kiss. A should’ve-been-wants-to-be kiss.
A needs to be kiss.
A can never be kiss.
Her words wash over him like cold, cruel water as he struggles to reconcile the person who desperately wants and loves the person in his arms and the person whose word is paramount.
Abbie strokes her hands down the sides of his face, wiping away the tears that gather at the corners of his eyes and presses quick kisses against his eyes and his cheeks. She can’t stand watching Ichabod cry. “No, please don’t cry,” she whispers against his skin, and somehow the kisses trail back to his lips and the fire rages again.
It takes only a millisecond for her to open her mouth and he deepens the kiss eagerly and deliberately, with the same focus that he sets to everything he does and they cling to each other because their bodies recognize each other’s spirit and every bone sings with finally.
The strength to pull away is found on her sweet lips. “I am so sorry,” Ichabod says, and with the heaviest heart and reluctant limbs he lowers Abbie to the floor and takes two steps back. Then another.
"You don’t have to be sorry," Abbie says, but she’s not looking at him, she’s looking at the pattern of light on the floor, courtesy of the high window on the archives wall. "We know what’s going on," she says.
"Indeed." Ichabod doesn’t know what to do with his hands that doesn’t involve Abbie’s body so he crosses his arms and tries to quell the rising panic in his chest. "I should leave," he says. Ichabod waits for Abbie to tell him he’s wrong, that he should stay.
"If you need me - I mean, if there’s something I can help you with, please call." He bows because it’s the only salutation that leaves him his dignity and does not bring him closer to Abbie.
"Of course. Be safe, Crane," Abbie says, and she’s still looking at the light on the ground as if it holds any answers. As Ichabod slips through the grating and into the tunnels, he sincerely hopes it does.
If you’ve been:
- physically abused
- verbally abused
- unbelievably stressed
- had your heart broken
- dealing/dealt with your parents separating
- hiding stuff from friends/family cause you’re scared of being judged
- judged for something you can’t help
- self harmed
….Then reblog this to show people what reality is like for you.