writing mills

8

                                            —and i know for me, it’s always you.

for @colferwesley
from your secret admirer 💕
(@oqcelebration)

anonymous asked:

prompt if you have time: regina finds it really hard to ask for things, but what she really wants is emma to hold her. she's usually the big spoon, but wants to be the little spoon. non-sexual touching specifically.

thank you for the prompt! this …hopefully fulfills what u want, i ended up going somewhere else i’m sorry!

- the one where emma and regina are actually married idiots

it’s late when emma gets home, already well after midnight. regina can hear her key in the door, the soft sigh she lets out as she steps inside, into the quiet shuffling of her home transition: she’ll be taking off her boots, sliding out of her jacket, hopefully leave her shoes at the door and drop her jacket off somewhere where it won’t just slump over a couch or chair arm (it will). after ten years of marriage, emma has somehow managed to remain completely unburdened by the simple domestic rules regina had enforced when they first started living together, and only grudgingly let slide in the face of such unrelenting forgetfulness.

after a moment, regina can hear her breathing as her wife mounts the wooden stairs, no longer quite as amble now that they have both embarked on the journey of getting old together.

lifting up on an elbow, regina reaches for the bedside lamp and flips it on, knowing emma will attempt to undress for bed in utter darkness if she suspects regina might be sleeping – so, sitting up, she waits for the familiar entrance of her wife, the slightly startled, apologetic look she always gets whenever emma discovers regina waiting for her. (it doesn’t matter how many times it happens, emma still jumps like a nervous cat at the slightest outward sign of devotion).

when emma walks through, regina smiles at her slight jump. “regina,” emma sighs, as she settles herself again. “you know, my shifts are really not as exciting as you think they are. you don’t have to stay up late every time i have a late one.”

regina merely shrugs, and rests her shoulders against their wooden headboard. she knows emma is more in danger (to herself) in the middle of after-school traffic than she is in a late night shift, but sleep never seems to come when she’s alone. she needs emma’s soft, steady breathing, the way she sprawls all over the bed, taking up whatever space she can. it seems so vast and empty without her, like she’s in the middle of nowhere, with only the distracting blink of alarm clocks to track the progress of time.

she doesn’t know how to say that, though (even after all this time). she simply pulls back the covers on emma’s side of the bed and smooths an expectant hand over the soft, empty space.

emma smiles, all soft and warm, as usual. “i’ll be there in a second,” she assures, and starts slipping out of her work jeans, leaving herself in just her socks and bra as she searches for her old ratty sleep clothes. “how was your day?” she asks, reaching for a shirt.

regina gazes down the familiar bumps of her wife’s back and sighs. “oh, it was fine.” it was, in fact, not fine. the town meeting had been exhausting, full of unnecessary, loud caveats, resulting in so many delays, to the point that she had to push back several scheduled meetings, which filled her inbox with passive aggressive emails and a nasty looking schedule tomorrow.

emma gives her a knowing look over the shoulder, and regina sighs. “well other than the hour i spent looking for another curse, just to get these people out of my hair so i can finish my paperwork on time, it was fine.”

“any results?”

“oh you know, none of them really stood out to me. i’ll have to keep looking.”

“well i’ll support you regardless, babe.”

babe. regina smiles. the term of endearment started out merely as an ironic joke for emma, some private way to cope with suddenly having a confirmed True Love and being socially required to spend time with all the other ridiculous fairytale couples around them, and while she suspects emma never intended to use it seriously, at some point in the ten years they’ve been married, it worked itself into emma’s idle mind.

a spasm of tenderness closes in regina’s throat as she watches her wife tiredly crawl into bed, sliding beneath the soft comforter and groaning in exhaustion – regina appears to be taking growing old a little more gracefully than emma, who now constantly dismays over her aching joints and aging hands, the slight greying around her temples. regina has only noticed a slight crinkle around her own eyes and a few silver strands, simple signs of age that emma seems to take great delight in finding.

their life together has been so happy. looking down at her wife, regina suddenly wants only to be held by her.

scooting closer, regina quietly clears her throat. “darling,” she offers, and, after a beat, starts massaging her fingers against emma’s shoulder, to prob emma back from a deep sleep. “are you really already falling asleep?”

“hmm?” emma struggles to blink up at her.

regina offers her a warm smile, starts massaging her shoulder again. “i was just wondering if you wanted to switch things up for tonight,” she says. she enjoys sleeping with emma in her arms (both because she like waking up with emma in hear arms, and also, a little strategically, to avoid getting accidentally kicked out in bed). but usually, she can get emma to go along with her simply by nudging her in the right direction.

most of the time. this time, emma merely groans. “too tired.” she says, and reaches back, in sweet misunderstanding, to gently grip regina’s fingers and give them another squeeze. “we’ll do it another night, babe.”

regina purses her lips. “i wasn’t…” she sighs. “oh nevermind.”

sinking back down into bed, regina slides her arms around emma’s waist, tries to press as much of herself to emma to make up for not being held. letting out a soft breath, she leans her cheek against emma’s neck, closes her eyes against the soft, steady presence of her wife.

until, a few minutes later, emma suddenly slides out of her arms. regina frowns, grapples with her fingers. “hey,’ she complains, rising reluctantly from her half-doze to see where her wife is going.

emma doesn’t go very far. she just slides up onto her knees, crawls over regina’s body, and settles down again, knotting her fingers  beneath regina’s ribs to squeeze her closer, closing all the gaps between their bodies.

blinking back a silly sting of tears, regina hums. “i suspect a lightbulb flipped on.”

emma chuckles, butts her head affectionately against the side of regina’s neck. “you know me,” she whispers sleepily, settling her cheek against regina’s, “it always takes me a few minutes.”

happily, regina  sighs, resting her hands against her wife’s. “I know darling.”

Modern Conveniences

So the idea for this came from one of @freifraufischer‘s herd of anons, and then @sometimesangryblackwoman gave some prodding to get it written. Anyway, post-ep in which Henry sends the other Regina a care package of things from the modern world, and makes the mistake of soliciting suggestions.


A couple weeks after sending the Evil Queen off to a fresh start and a chance at some happiness, Henry writes her a note. It’s mostly to tell her they’re all okay, that they’ve survived the latest peril which has so marked his adolescence. She’d want to know, he thinks. He tacks on a post-script about his grades, fully aware that she won’t be pleased about that, but hey, there was an epic battle going on and a few nights where he was out late saving the world instead of studying algebra. Surely she can forgive him that.

It’s a one-way form of communication, but it’s the least of what he owes her. Every once in a while, he pens another note, telling her about the situation with Violet and how the horses are doing and everything he thinks she might want to know. It’s not enough, but it’s what he can do.

He’s taken little Neal to the park to give Snow and David some time to themselves and is thinking of what to say to his other other mom when he hears what the mothers in the park are saying. Princess Aurora is laughing about one of the first times she used the internet for shopping. “I couldn’t believe it. You just tell it what you want and it arrives! Better than magic, if you ask me.”

“It still comes with a price!” Ashley says, and the women all laugh.

It gives Henry an idea.

The family is having Thanksgiving at the Mills house. It’s the one holiday they all really embraced after the curse was broken—Mom loves to cook, Snow loves to decorate, and Emma loves to eat, so it’s perfect for their quirky little family. The night before, Henry informed them all that he could use his abilities to send things, modern conveniences she might miss, to the other Regina, so if they had any suggestions he was certainly open to them.

The table was stunned for a minute, but soon they were coming up with all kinds of ideas. Before long it devolved into a conversation of the old days in the Enchanted Forest, and sometimes about the things they missed during the year when Henry and Emma were in New York. But on Thanksgiving itself, Emma calls him aside. “Hey, kid, you haven’t made up your magical care package yet, have you?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “No, I wanted to see if there were any more ideas.”

“Right. So this might be a little embarrassing, but trust me, it’s necessary.”

She hands him a slip of paper and walks away. On the note are two items.

Tampons. Chocolate.

For half a minute Henry wants the earth to swallow him.

He shoves the embarrassment as far back as he can and tries to be sensible. Emma’s right, probably—okay, definitely, since he has no idea what this is like and she does. But ugh, he wishes the pen would let other people write down their seriously personal suggestions instead of him having to do this.

Half an hour later, Snow calls him away from football with the guys to the dining room, where she’s putting the finishing touches on the table. “Wow, Grandma,” he says, “it looks great.”

“You think so?” Snow replies. “I keep thinking the flowers are too tall, but I guess not everyone’s as short as me. You’re not even as short as me anymore.”

He grins by way of apology. “So what do you need help with?”

“Oh, I was actually going to give you another idea for the other Regina. I don’t want to embarrass you, but…”

The words aren’t even out of her mouth yet and Emma’s note may literally be burning a hole in his pocket. Why isn’t there ever a sinkhole when he really needs one?

He stammers his thanks and hopes he isn’t blushing.

Dinner is great, even if he can’t quite look a couple of the women in the eye. He stuffs himself on mock-apple pie (Mom’s idea of a joke), and when Mom gets up to wash the dishes, he follows her to help. The others try to protest that she shouldn’t be cleaning up when she did most of the cooking, but she waves them off, knowing she likes things done a certain way.

Henry knows her system, though, so he can help. The others clear the table and let mother and son get to work. As she washes and he dries the china, she says, “There’s something very important you need to add to your list for… the other me.”

Ugh,” he says. “I know, Mom. Emma and Snow both talked to me about this, okay? I know. Chocolate and… the other thing.”

Mom looks at him with this expression, torn between laughter and incredulity. “The other thing? Come on, Henry, the word won’t hurt you.”

The ground beneath him betrays him yet again, refusing to open and put him out of his misery. “Chocolate and tampons,” he mumbles.

With a soapy hand, Mom pats his cheek. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Seriously, he’s going to crawl into a cabinet and live the rest of his life in there as a hermit.

“Have you got a piece of paper?” she asks.

“Yeah…”

“Good. I want you to write this down.”

“Mom, Emma already gave me a note with this, so it’s not like I’m going to forget.”

“No, I want you to write down the actual brand. These things are not to be left to chance.”

Mortified, he obeys.

*~*~*~*

In that other place, Regina is between encounters with the angry young king—she’ll bring him around yet, she knows—when she gets a box from her son. It’s thoughtful and kind and makes her heart so full she thinks it must burst. But in the bottom there’s another box, wrapped in brown paper. Henry has scrawled a note on it. They said you needed this.

She laughs so hard when she opens it that she literally falls out of her chair.

My poor little prince, she thinks. You must have wished the earth would swallow you whole.

Storm Front

Happy Valentine’s Day to my amazing Secret Valentine, @starscythe!!!  I do hope you enjoy this gift, my friend, as you gift us with so many incredible manips all year long. Meeting you in person in November was such a joy, and I hope we can hug in person again in the near future. 

Without further adieu, here is your  @oqcelebration valentine. :D


He’s heard stories, of course, broken whispers whenever a fierce storm blew in unexpectedly, mumbled musings if an acquaintance suddenly fell ill. These are never voiced loudly, as superstition’s lingering hold on the forest proves to be an ominous task master, leaving such wonderings to drift from one listener to the next, more often than not finding fertile ground stripped bare by black magic’s lingering touch.

The Evil Queen’s dark curse had taken many, but there are those among the forest’s remnants who believe she herself still dwells in this realm. They speak of her in hushed fragments, discuss sightings of a dark, solitary figure who roams the forest at night, a cloaked woman who has somehow lost her magic but now lives bound to it, perhaps in just retribution for a curse so foul it emptied their lands and cast both friend and foe into fates unknown.

Robin has never put much stock into superstition, neither does he give credence to legends or fairy lore. His is a world defined by what he can see, touch and confiscate, a world in which people rarely fit into molds of “good” or “evil”, a world in which he’s observed unspeakable acts committed by the most respected of citizens while those judged as lesser are the very ones who offer shelter and food to the starving. He lives by his wits and senses and surrounds himself with a thieving group of outcasts he’d readily give his life to protect.

Yet even he, the infamous Robin Hood, has to admit that the air feels odd tonight, that there is a charge to the impending storm brewing in the eastern highlands that makes the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He senses a disturbance, one that feels altogether too personal and close at hand for comfort. Roland must have felt it, too, for the boy had clung to him as Robin soothed his son’s whimpers until he’d finally fallen into a fitful sleep.

It is enough for him to grudgingly admit that tinges of magic probably remain in his forest, even if the queen is nowhere to be found. Dreams of Marian and of his mother plague his sleep and fill him with sense of urgency altogether foreign, one that pushes him towards consciousness even as his body rebels.

A loud clap of thunder finally awakens him, and he’s surprised to find that he’s drenched in sweat. Roland is still sleeping soundly, but one touch to his son’s forehead reveals that the boy is hot with fever. He holds his child close, drawing the blankets up around him, but he worries as all parents do, even as the wind howls just outside their tent.

Roland needs feverfew tea. Unfortunately, their stashes of medicinal herbs have run dry in light of the recent bout of sickness that have ravaged both his men and their families, and he lies there only minutes before deciding to risk a trip to the lake’s edge to gather what he needs. He wakes Little John and asks his friend to keep an ear and eye out for his son before donning his thickest cloak and disappearing into the forest’s canopy. He’s survived far worse storms than this, he reminds himself, ignoring the tingling sensations skittering up his legs that feel altogether supernatural.

Keep reading

Congratulations

Summary: The day before the big wedding, Hook and Regina discuss the events of 6x15. (References to Captain Swan, Captain Cobra, Swan Queen friendship, and Regal Believer)

Notes: I’m taking the chance to have two of my favorite Once characters discuss what happened in Storybrooke when Emma believed Hook had abandoned them. Because both Hook and Regina care about Emma and Henry, and words need to be said. Spoilers for that episode, as well as upcoming episodes.

Read on AO3!

It was the distinct clack of stilettos on the upper deck of the ship that startled Killian from his book. He had retreated to the Jolly to relax. His and Emma’s home had been overrun with wedding decorations, and though he was counting down the moments he could finally make her his wife, the overwhelming clutter had given him a headache. Judging from the distinct sound of Regina’s gait above, Killian doubted he would get a reprieve. 

He had just sat down his book, and was making to stand when the hatch to his quarters was unceremoniously thrown open, and Regina’s voice carried down, “You down there, Captain?”

“Aye, just let me–" 

His response was cut off when Regina appeared suddenly in a cloud of smoke. At his raised eyebrow, she simple replied, “There was no way I was climbing down that ladder in these heels and skirt.”

It was a valid explanation. Emma had often made asides about the difficulty of navigating the ladder in the more formal attire she wore on special dates. That he minded too much, as her climbing down had always given him a delightful view of her arse. Still, it rankled him that Regina had appeared without warning. No on ever approached his quarter’s without express permission – he was the Captain, after all – and he had half a mind to tell her such. But the set of Regina’s expression, and his own unwillingness to cause a verbal sparring match, made him bite his tongue.

Instead, he plastered on his widest smile, teething flashing as he asked, “To what do I owe you the pleasure, Your Majesty?”

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4

#This is such a big moment for these two #because for Snow ever since Regina split herself she has seen them as two completely different people #the Evil Queen reminds her of the past #reminds her of the Regina she so desperately wanted to see the good in #the Regina she craved love from #the Regina she separated in her mind from the one she’s known in Storybrooke #and the Evil Queen now feels all the love that Regina has grown for Snow over the seasons #so for Snow to get an apology that is actually meant from the heart #an apology that she never expected to receive from this part of Regina #it must be so shocking and overwhelming #because this act makes her only start to realise that this isn’t a completely different person - this is Regina #this is what she has always wanted from her

“You’re hired.”

Originally posted by supernaturalismykryptonite


Pairing - Dean X Reader. Sam Winchester, Castiel, Jody, Claire, Donna, Charlie, Alex, Bobby Singer, Mother (OFC)

Word Count - 1500

Warnings - Fluff.

Summary - Dean and Y/N’s wedding planning leads to the perfect wedding day?

A/N - Written as part of @thing-you-do-with-that-thing ‘s week 3 hiatus challenge. Dialogue Prompt “could you be any louder.” Trope - Planning their wedding leads to bickering and conflicting ideas. both were used and I had so much fun writing this.


“Dean, no.” You groaned.

“Yes,”

“No”

“Yes,”

“Dean, no!” Your voice much louder than before.

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apromiseicankeep  asked:

oq + "i love you so much, i forgot what hating myself felt like." please? :*

Thank you so much for the prompt! And as always sorry it took me so long! I hope you like it!

Set after 06x11

Regina wakes up from the shattering sound which makes her jump in her bed, eyes wide opened, all sleep forgotten. Her first thought is that someone has come here her, or worse - to hurt Henry,  and she’s about to get out of the bed and rush to his room but then she remembers that Henry’s with Emma, and she’s alone here. 

Well, not completely alone.

There is Robin, this new and different, yet so familiar Robin in her living room sleeping peacefully on the couch that just hours ago made him laugh and frown, not being able to understand what kind of thing it is.

Her breath catches in her throat when a shadow is seen in her bedroom and there’s a fireball in her palm before she knows it. The fire lights up the room and her jaw drops open, a hand falling over her chest in relief as she finds Robin standing at her doorway. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he tells her, his voice sheepish as he looks down at the vase shattered on the floor. Regina closes up her palm and turns to her side to turn on the bedside light. Then she turns to look back at him and sees him holding a box where she put all of the pictures, letters, and everything that reminded her of him, of Robin Hood. 

“What are you doing?” she asks confused and she has an urge to take the box from him - no one is supposed to open that box, not anymore - but it’s Robin, and he may not be the same, but he’s still there, his soul is in this man, and she thinks she should let him know, she should give him a chance to see what kind of life they’ve had.

“You knew I was a thief when you met me,” he says with a smirk on his face and she feels tears welling up in her eyes. Robin’s said that, in the library, when he’d found their page, when he had pulled her into his arms and kissed her until she was out of breath.

Her heart clenches at the memory and she inhales sharply, forcing herself to calm down. 

This new Robin must sense that something is not right because his smirk disappears and he comes to sit on the edge of the bed, beside her, the shattered vase completely forgotten. He looks at her for a moment, lets her take a moment to put herself back under control before showing her the box and asking, “Can I?” 

She should be offended that he was looking through her things, what is more he has broken the vase but she cannot find it in herself to be mad, so she nods her head and watches quietly as he opens the box and starts to look at the things in there. The first thing he takes out is a picture of him, Roland and Regina at the park, then it’s him and Henry building a tent, and then it’s them, Regina and Robin standing just outside Snow’s apartment, his hand on her cheek, back from when they’ve just started dating. 

He takes picture after picture, letter after letter (she wrote many of them, as stupid as it sounds, she wrote all of them to him after his death in hopes that maybe he’s still somewhere and will somehow read it) and with every thing Regina’s heart breaks. 

They sit there in silence for what feels like forever and then when he finally takes the last photo, he turns to look at her. “It would be stupid to ask if you loved the other version of me,” he tells her and she manages to smile through her tears. 

“I loved you so much, I forgot what hating myself felt like,” she whispers, afraid that if she’ll say the words out loud, her voice will break. She has never told Robin this before, has never said that she loves him openly and that’s the thing she regrets the most. “I-” and she has so much to say but all of this seems inappropriate so instead she just looks right into his blue eyes as her lower lip trembles.

Robin swallows hard and puts all the photos back into the box, closes it, puts it on the bed and then surprises Regina by pulling her into a tight hug, a hug that only her Robin could give. A hug that once upon a time put all of her broken pieces back together. 

“I may not be the same Robin but I promise to love you just as much,” he tells her and if she wasn’t this emotional, she would have laughed at him because they’ve just met, and he knows nothing about her, there is no way that someone can fall in love that quickly.

But as his arms tighten around her and she feels warmth surrounding her, she thinks that perhaps life has given her another chance, she realizes that this Robin may be different than hers but he has the same soul, and that soul is tethered to hers and she thinks - hopes - that maybe this time she’ll be able to save this precious soul from suffering.

She hopes.

I love Hot Air Balloons!

Dean x Reader

Brief mentions of Sam, Cas, Jody, Donna, Claire, Garth and Crowley (seriously the whole Scooby Gang). Lots of fluff to balance the smut.

Warnings: Smut, Oral (female receiving), slight Doctor Kink, language, period talk.


A/N: This is was written for Beca’s Big Celebration Challenge. @jensen-jarpad

You woke up in the middle of the night with some awful cramps on your left side. You left your sleeping boyfriend and walked to the bathroom. You tried but you couldn’t go so you thought it may just be indigestion or an old injury flaring up. You took some Tums and a couple of Tylenol and returned to your snuggly boyfriend.
“You ok, sweetheart?” Dean asked in a sleepy but concerned voice. He wrapped his warm arm around you.
“Yeah, my tummy hurts.” You pouted in a baby voice.
“Period?” He questioned.
“No, that was last week remember.”
“I do, now that you mention it. You want me to rub your belly, Baby?”
You curled closer into him, “Yeah, that would be nice.” His rough hands felt nice on your soft skin, you let his expert touch guide your relief.

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sometimesangryblackwoman  asked:

Regal Peanut: 228. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

She’d only been out of sight for twenty minutes. Just long enough to shower, and dress, and blow dry her hair. 

But somehow, the kitchen is a mess. 

Flour everywhere, dusting all the surfaces much like the fresh coat of winter white outside, cracked eggshells oozing sticky remnants onto the island, a little delta of sugar flowing from an overturned cardboard box. The oven is preset to a sweltering 450 degrees, and there’s milk splashed near one side of the sink, and a stick of butter going soft in its wrapper on the other.

And there in the middle of all the disarray, placed neatly on a pan, is an apple tart. A perfectly baked, golden brown, flaky-pastried apple tart. It smells like cinnamon, and tart sweetness, and… ozone. Like lightning, or the air right after a good spring rain.

Magic. Something they’d heretofore thought had somehow skipped a generation.

Regina narrows her eyes just a little, then looks to her flour-flecked niece, standing there in her little apron, with a sweeter-than-pie smile on her gap-toothed face.

She crouches down in front of Robyn and asks her, “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

That sweet smile widens, and she says with all the innocence in the world, “Happy birthday, Auntie Regina.”

Regina’s lips quirk a little, twitching into a smile, and she tells her, “Thank you, that’s very impressive.” 

Then she reaches out her hands for Robyn’s, until she can feel the buzzing crackle of energy zing between them, can watch the little’s girl’s blue eyes (so much like her father’s that it aches sometimes) widen at the sensation.

And then Regina tries again, wonders knowingly, “Are you sure there’s nothing else?”

The giggle she gets in response is all the answer she needs, but Robyn fesses up anyway. A conspiratorial whisper of, “I made it with magic, Auntie.” Her face falls a little when she admits, “The recipe was too hard.”

Like mother, like daughter, Regina thinks with a wry smile.

She straightens and brushes back one unruly ginger curl from a freckled cheek, and tells her, “Well, then. I suppose it’s time I taught you a thing or two.”

Decluttering

A/N: I saw a sp about the S7 Regina and she was wearing a ring necklace… This is my take on where it came from. Thanks to Polly for giving me the idea and Grace for betaing!


It’s been three weeks. Three crazy weeks when you look at all that happened. She split herself, Mr. Hyde came into town, the ship from the Land of Untold Stories crashed down in Storybrooke and her evil half, the Queen, is trying to transform the town into chaos. It’s been three weeks, but this morning, when she went to her closet in order to pull out the beige silk blouse, one of his shirts slips from the hanger. And with it, her emotions.

Regina doesn’t know how long she stares at the dark blue tee before she bends down to pick it up. He didn’t have a wide selection of clothes, justifying it by telling her why buy lots of different things when I like these? She’d tried to argue with him about it, dragged him shopping one time, but they wound up finding more things for her instead of a new wardrobe for him. So with the few shirts, pants and jackets that occupied a rather small space in her closet, it has almost been too easy to forget his clothes were still there. Almost.

Pressing the shirt against her face, she catches a slight whiff of forest and something that is just him. And why? Why? She’s tearing up, stumbling backward until her calves hit the side of the bed and she can finally sit down, the shirt still pressed to her face, soaking up the tears. Why is she still not over it? Why do little things like this, like a simple shirt, make her break down as if his death only happened yesterday?

He died for her. Fuck, he’d thrown himself in the way between her and Hades’ crystal, not thinking at all. The idiot. Regina is still not sure why and at the same time she’s never been more certain. Because he loved her. It’s hard to believe, but he loved her so much that he died to protect her. It’s not fair, none of this is fair and when she looks around, it seems like everyone is able to bring back their dead loved ones, except for her. She’s never been this lucky. The rules of destiny were unfair, seem to make an exception for everyone… but Regina doesn’t get an exception. She’s a villain. No matter how much she’s changed, maybe she still deserves to suffer for the sins of her past.

It’s a good thing Henry isn’t here, because he would tell her the opposite, that she’s changed, that she’s a hero now, but deep down, Regina knows. Even splitting herself and crushing the Evil Queen’s heart didn’t help, just brought more trouble to the town for which she deems herself responsible.

She takes a deep breath, once again catching a hint of him which calms her down immediately as if he wanted to say stop this - you’re wrong. Thinking of it, that’s probably exactly what it is. Slowly, she dries her face with the shirt, smoothing out the wet spots and wonders whether she should wash it. But if she’s honest with herself, there is no point. As much as it hurts to think of it… She has to let go of him and maybe, maybe it is time.

This is how she finds herself later in the afternoon with a moving box, labeled with thick dark letters of his name. She’s alone in the house; Henry is staying with Emma, the pirate and the Uncharmings because it’s safer for him. Whether that’s true or not, she’s not sure, but she hadn’t been in a good place when the decision was made and didn’t have the energy to protest. Maybe Snow had tried to give her space. She doesn’t know.

It’s a simple thing, putting some shirts and pants into a box. Well, it should be a simple thing, but when it’s the last physical remains of your soulmate, it makes it a thousand times more difficult. Where does she start? While she’s telling herself to just get it over with!, her body isn’t moving at all. Why is she so powerless, why does she have no control?

Damn it, Regina.  Damn it, damn it, damn it! With every ‘damn’ she reaches into the closet, pulling out one article of his clothing and throws it behind her. She doesn’t care if she doesn’t hit the box, just wants to get his stuff out of the closet. One by one, in a state close to blind rage, she throws the things behind herself until there is nothing left other than his dark green jacket. It somehow seems stuck on the hanger, so she rips and rips, until it comes off and falls to the ground in front of her. One by one.

Out, everything is out. Her bedroom is a complete mess now. He is everywhere. His scent is everywhere and she can’t stand it any longer, sinking down onto the ground, she starts crying. Why? “Why did you have to die, Robin?”

Regina doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting there, sobbing, burying her face in her hands, thinking and overthinking everything that happened. It’s only when she looks up and the sky outside is turning almost dark that she realizes she has to stop. She has to get herself together, knows this is hard. She allowed herself one more breakdown and this was it. Now it’s time. Slowly, Regina wipes her tears away and takes a deep breath before looking at the mess in her bedroom.

The moment she tries to push herself up from the ground, her hand lands on something hard, hidden in one of Robin’s jacket pockets. Carefully, she pulls the jacket open and is surprised when a little black velvet box falls out. Her breath catches in her throat as her shaking fingers pick up the box, tentatively opening it. “Oh, Robin…”

Inside, a bed of white velvet reveals a matte golden ring with three white brilliants. The thought that this ring was most likely meant for her is so overwhelming she cannot help the tears which are once again spilling over. She should wonder when he got it, when he was going to ask her, how he would have staged the proposal, but instead her mind is quiet. So quiet, her mind is blank as she stares in wonder at the engagement ring in her hands.

A sudden warmth fills her heart. It’s something she cannot explain, it just happens, like a caressing touch of Robin’s strong hands. A smile pulls at her lips the moment she feels it and she knows, deep down, that he’s there. In her heart, where he will always stay. It doesn’t matter that Robin’s not physically there to ask her herself, Regina knows what her answer would have been.

“Yes. I do.” she says in a soft whisper and puts the ring on her finger. A perfect fit. Just like her and Robin.

tell me a fairytale

tell me a story about the evil queen and the savior.  

tell me a story where regina splits herself in two and accidentally sets her rage loose on the world.  tell me a story where emma is prophesied to die by the evil queen’s hand.

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Be careful what you wish for, you may receive it

I haven’t posted anything here in a while but it is Manon’s ( @onhowtobecrazy) birthday today so I had to. Also a belated gift for Em @lillie-grey who is havng a bad week, I hope this fluffy piece will make you smile darling! 

Here have some Dimple Dark!Outlaw Queen


Once upon a time, there was a little boy who lived in an Enchanted Forest, full of magic and extraordinary creatures. This boy lived in a camp full of honorable thieves. It may seem like an oxymoron to you, but somehow those outlaws turned their former amoral existences around for the greater good, stealing to give back, taking from those who had everything they wanted, to help those who had too little.

They became the boy’s family, for this child had lost much, too much; his mother, whom he could barely remember, not long after birth, his father just a few months prior, his sister and his Queen, left behind in another realm. The joyful, energetic, curious boy had changed ever since their return to Sherwood Forest, the light in his eyes had dimmed, he was quieter, his smiles rarer, his nightmares scarier. The Merry Men, his band of thieves, tried their hardest to distract and occupy him, to comfort him, but nothing and no one could replace the soothing voice and strong arms of his Papa, especially on that particular day.

That day was a special one for the boy, usually his favourite of the year, his birthday. For as long as he could remember, his father had gone out of his way to make it an unforgettable event. He had received his first small bow and arrow on his third birthday, squealing as he had been able to finally notch an arrow on his own, uncaring that he never hit the target, he had ridden on a pony for his fourth, a little black one that the Queen had personally chosen for him from her stables at the Dark Palace, where they had all been living then. She had helped him groom it and feed it apples from her tree, she had led them for a walk around the castle, even had sped it up to a trot to the boy’s utter delight. Afterwards they had baked his cake from scratch, and that night, with a full belly, clutching his new toy pony, an exact, fluffy replica of the living model, the boy had fallen asleep with a smile so wide his cheeks had hurt, it had rivaled his father’s.

 His fifth birthday would be different. The boy didn’t want to rise up for it, he wanted to stay snuggled under his blankets so no one would see his tears as he missed his Papa and his Queen and everyone else they had left behind. He just wanted his special day to be over. The Merry Men were persistent however, and after careful coaxing, they convinced the boy to join them. They didn’t try to turn it into a lavish party, none of them wanted to insult the boy’s father memory by attempting to live up to his unique way of celebrating his son.

 It was a quiet affair with simple handmade gifts and his favourite cake, a treat done with ingredients Granny had given them as they had left. Five candles lit the chocolate confection, and as he was about to blow on them, his father’s best friend, a hairy, burly, giant of a man, ironically nicknamed Little John, reminded him that he needed to make a wish. The boy’s little face screwed into thoughts, for there was only one thing he wanted and he knew he couldn’t get it. Still he shrugged, closed his eyes, made his wish and blew on his candles.

“What did you wish for, Roland?” A soft, feminine voice spoke in his ear.

“You can’t tell wishes or they won’t come true, silly,” the boy replied, and then froze, he knew this voice. Roland turned to the side and opened his eyes. They fell on the beautiful face of his Queen.

“Regina!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms around her neck, clinging to her tightly. “You’re here! You came back!” He sighed happily as he felt her gentle hands stroking his back.

“I did Roland. I couldn’t miss my favourite Knight’s birthday, now could I?” She told him and he giggled. He leaned back to look at her, his eyes twinkling for the first time in months, his smile wide and genuine. “And as it is your special day, I think it is tradition that I give you a present,” with a flourish, she made his gift appear in a plume of smoke.

“Monkey!” Roland cried out, squeezing against him the plush toy that had been lost in the confusion of their hasty departure, his companion ever since his Queen had saved him from the much more terrifying,breathing version. “Thank you Regina!” He seemed to realize for the first time that she looked a bit different than the last time he saw her. With her long, raven hair in a styled ponytail and her outfit, she resembled the Regina he had met all those months ago when she had been separated from her son.

She had been so sad then, that he had felt a chest swelling pride for every smile he had managed to get out of her. This Regina, though similar in looks to his sorrowful Queen, was both different from her and from the Regina he had to leave behind without saying goodbye. Roland couldn’t say how he knew but he felt it, in the way she looked at him.

He put his little hands on her cheeks and said, “You’re the Queen , aren’t you?” He sounded so much older than his five years when he spoke those words that the Queen was left stunned and speechless, could only nod in reply.

“But you’re not bad,” he stated more than asked, and theMen around them who had stayed silent since the woman appeared shifted uncomfortably.

The Queen’s eyes softened. “Not anymore,” she confirmed, a hint of shame in her tone, she did not want this precious boy to hear about the havoc she had wrecked in Storybrooke not so long ago.

“Regina sent you?” he asked, hopeful eyes and toothy grin, and the Queen’s newly mended heart squeezed painfully in her chest. Regina had no idea she was here, and she probably wouldn’t approve of what she was about to do, but what could the Queen possibly tell him?

“In a way, yes, she did,” she answered. “I have another surprise for you but I need to explain something first, and you have to listen really closely, alright?”

The boy nodded with all the seriousness he was capable of, it made the Queen chuckle, she caressed his cheek gently.

“You see I went to another Realm and I found someone there, someone very special, who looks like your Papa,” she paused, biting her lip, hesitating when the boy instantly perked up. “Roland, he looks very much like him, but he is not your Papa, he has led a very different life, he doesn’t know us,” the boy deflated, lowering his head, a pout on his lips. “He is a thief but he doesn’t do it for good like your father did. He wants to change though, do you think you could help me show him how?”

Seconds ticked by, and the Queen became more and more convinced that she had made a terrible mistake, that she had broken the child’s heart. What had she been thinking, coming back here to ruin his birthday? And then Roland threw himself in her arms again, and she took a shaky breath as he whispered a heartfelt ‘Thank you Regina’ in her ear.

She introduced him to Robin of Locksley, and his appearance and manners were distinctive enough not to upset the boy too much. This man could easily pass for a long lost brother or cousin to the Robin they knew. They were uneasy with each other at first, but with time and those room lighting smiles of Roland’s they started to form a real bond. The Queen’s anxiety slowly eased, as each day passed, and two of her favourite men got along better and better. This fresh start Regina had given her looked more promising with each dawn and sunset that she enjoyed in the arms of her thief, Roland’s soft snores filtering from the tent next to them.

Once upon a time, there was a little boy who lived in an Enchanted Forest full of magic and extraordinary creatures. He had lost much, too much, but on his fifth birthday he wished for a family, for a mother and a father to complete his rugged band of thieves, and it was granted. Would it be a happily ever after? Well, that’s an entirely new adventure to tell.

Set somewhere around 06x20. Robin is alive. Regina thinks about marriage.

(…)

Robin likes to cuddle. It’s not a surprise, really, and Regina got to figure out that rather quickly in their relationship. He likes to pull her to him in the middle of the night or use her as a teddy bear. At first she wasn’t that happy with his affection but now, now she enjoys it way too much.

But when he stretches his arm to hug Regina tonight, he finds nothing. He’s wide awake the moment he feels her side of the bed empty and cold, his eyes opened widely, trying to see in the pitch-dark room.

In a moment Robin is out of the bed, walking to the bathroom.

It’s not the first night he wakes up alone but somehow every time this little shiver runs down his spine, a shiver that makes him worried. Some nights he finds her sleeping in Roland’s bed, sometimes in Henry’s (on the nights when he’s not here and she misses him terribly), but sometimes, sometimes he finds her in the middle of the bathroom, with her back against the cold tiles, hugging her knees and crying.

That’s why Robin first goes to the bathroom. But tonight the room is empty, there’s no sign that she was even there. When he peeks into Roland’s room, he finds only his son sleeping peacefully, hugging a monkey toy Regina gave him years ago, and Henry’s room is empty and quiet.

Where did she go?

His heart beats a little faster now but he tells himself that she’s fine, nothing could happen to her. He enters room after room and is felt empty-handed until he sees a small light from the backyard.

He lets out a sigh of relief when he finds her sitting on the porch in a chilly air with her arms around her knees. He tries to approach her quietly as not to startle her but when he sits down beside her, she jumps nevertheless.

“Hi,” he says quietly and only then he sees how sad her eyes are. He wonders what happened to her for a few hours ago she was laughing with Roland at a very stupid movie and sending him all kind of inappropriate winks.

“What are you doing up?” her voice is quiet and he thinks that she’s been crying,

“I didn’t find you in bed and got worried,” he replies, doesn’t say anything when she lets out a shaky exhale. “What are you doing up?”

 She doesn’t say anything for a while, only stares into the distance, and Robin patiently waits for her to collect her thoughts. Takes that moment to enjoy the chilly air and the silence of the night.

“I was thinking,” he hears her say and immediately turns to look at her but cannot see her eyes, her beautiful face, she’s still staring into the distance. When Robin asks what she was thinking about she inhales shakily. “Today I was doing all these preparations for Emma’s wedding and…” her voice trails off and Robin cannot help himself but wrap his arm around her waist and pull her a little bit closer in order to comfort her.

“And?”

“And I imagined what it would be like to get married again.”

Robin’s eyes widen in surprise. From the very moment their relationship became something more, she had told him time and time again that they will never get married, she’ll never be a wife again and that if he’s not okay with he can leave. Every time her voice was guarded, her poise unreadable and in these moments she reminded him of an Evil Queen.

“Oh.”

“Indeed,” she nods her head. “I saw all these happy smiles and excitement, and Emma was so happy that she’s going to marry the love of her life. I realized that maybe getting married is not that bad when you choose the right person,” she tenses a little at her own words and glances at him. “My first marriage was a disaster but you and I lived together for years now and… you changed my thoughts on many things, Robin.”

“I’m glad then,” he tells her and leaves a small kiss on her cheek.

“I’m not asking you to propose or something,” she rushes to assure. “I just wanted you to know that… that I wouldn’t say no.”

Robin doesn’t say anything, doesn’t think words are needed. He just pulls her into his arms and kisses her, pouring all his soul into the kiss.

When they pull away breathless and he rests his forehead against hers, he thinks that maybe that ring under Henry’s bed will be used much sooner than they all have thought.

On the inside - Pan

Description/Request : Hi I just really wanted to say I love your writing and was wondering whether I could make a request? :)))) The plot: After trying to outrun the lost boys y/n ends up at a cliffs edge where they state “we’re on an island!? Well you could’ve atleast told me that before I started to run” Knowing they won’t get off the island by force or by running, y/n decides it’d be better to cooperate and play Pan from the inside. Would really appreciate it xx

YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND FRENNNND @velveteen-teens

WARNINGS : none really

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6

Fighting with words… or begging for your life?

A meta on a writing misstep.

So let’s talk about Swan Song and Regina’s place in the resolution of the story.  I had an extended back and forth with Adam about this episode on twitter last year and I think it’s worth talking about Regina’s place in it and what I think he intended when he was writing it and why I don’t think ti works.

Let’s start from a given:

Adam believes that Regina was an integral part in the resolution of 5A.  

I know this is true because he told me several times in over the course of five months in different ways during public twitter conversations.  I countered that I thought the episode took an action oriented character and made her impotent and tertiary to the resolution of the arc.  So how can the writer think she was central and I think she was essentially … for lack of a better term emasculated.  Especially when they gave us this flag at the start of the arc.

So here is the thing.  I think that Adam considered the above gifs to be the pay off to this moment.  They see a “hope speech” as heroic.  That Regina was forcing Hook to make a choice about the kind of man he wants to be.  This is not an anti-Hook meta so let’s assume (because the writers do) that Hook is an essentially good man and Regina was appealing to him to try and stop him from stepping down a road he can’t come back from.

I’d even say that it’s supposed to thematically feed into Souls of the Departed which revolves around the sin that Regina can’t forgive herself for.

When you remember the flashbacks and the basis for Regina’s appeal to Hook is also about the murder of a parent I really do think the two episodes (both written by Kitsis and Horowitz) are intended to be read as thematically similar.  We are supposed to understand that Hook backs down from the apocalypse that he has brought about because of revenge and darkness in part because Regina as a woman who has been down that road is forcing him to face what that choice says about him and what kind of man he chooses to be.

Which…. isn’t a bad idea when you line it up like that.  

But here is my problem.  The “hope speech as weapon” has power when the person giving it has choices besides the hope speech.  The 1990s scifi show Babylon 5 had a character ask if you know you are going to die, is fighting to the death bravery or desperation.  Regina isn’t choosing hope and belief in Hook’s character in this scene as far as I’m concerned (and she may have it again this isn’t an anti- meta) but she’s throwing everything she can at the wall to save her family because she has no other choice.  She’s appealing to Hook’s character because that’s all she can do in hopes of saving her family.  The hope speech from a position of absolute weakness reads less like a powerful statement and more like a character who has been proactive through her entire history suddenly begging.

It’s not a good look.

Let me contrast it with a similar moment from Kansas.

Here she is appealing to Rumple (like Hook a former villain) that they have to choose not to take revenge because it leads to a life of emptiness.  This speech works because she’s holding the dagger.  She can (and has) stopped Rumple from killing Zelena and she doesn’t need to try and convince him.  Using the dagger was about saving Zelena, using her words was about trying to help Rumple save himself. 

That fundamentally does not work in the Swan Song scene because Regina has no power.  She’s begging Hook to be a better man for her family’s sake.  So it doesn’t read like she’s trying to help him be a better man because she believes in him (which again I think was the authorial intent).  If she and Emma and the Charmings had walked in there with a plan even if that plan failed.  If Emma had the sword.  If they had some way to bottle up the Dark Ones but they were still going to die.  And it was not entirely about arguing from a position of powerlessness I think that changes the entire character of the action.

But because she has no magical plan (failure or not).  She has no means to fight other than the prescribed hope speech moment she goes from active character passive character.  And the same thing fundamentally applies to Emma.  And that’s not even touching Snow standing in the background with no dialogue.  Or even Rumple who also has a second motive for wanting Hook to make the noble choice because he gets his power back only if Hook makes the right decision.

Words are powerful.  But they must have a context to be so.  And for reasons beyond my understanding they stripped out all the choice from the the women and placed it entirely in the hands of Hook.  

The episode turns the entire Charming family (including Regina, Rumple, and Snow) into damsels tied to rail road tracks trying to appeal to the person who tied them there.  It robs Hook’s character as much as it does everyone else because the power imbalance makes him the villain in episode in a way I’m reasonably sure the writers didn’t intend us to see him.

ETA:  And I really mean it I have no desire to have the anti-Hook discussion.

Post-its and Paperclips April Fool’s

A/N: Fun little update for this silly holiday. Happy April Fool’s!

{ ffn } { ao3 }

She’s going to kill him.

Robin’s sense of humor, the joy that he gets out of the simple everyday pleasures of life is one of the things that Regina has come to love most about him. Embraces the way that he’s able to draw those light, breathy laughs from her or make her grin until her cheeks ache. But today, she’s going to kill him.

There are post-it notes spread over every available surface of her office. They cover every inch of her desk, her monitor, the back of her desk chair. A glance toward her tackboard reveals that he’s decorated the entire thing with them as well, a cheesy bright pink post-it smiley face interlaced between the bland, pale yellow colored ones.

He’s a child. Clearly. It takes Regina a minute to even comprehend what she’s looking at before she realizes the date. April 1st. Of course. She should have expected it of him. Hadn’t she listened to him and Roland plot and scheme at how they were going to prank Uncle John only a few nights ago? At the time, Regina hadn’t thought anything of it. Had actually found the image of the burly man gagging on toothpaste filled oreo cookies and his soda exploding in his face quite entertaining in fact. The man’s positively addicted to coke.

She’s not feeling as amused now that she’s faced with an office covered with paper, hardly any surface visible.

Irritation sizzles through her has she stalks into the room and drops her purse to the floor, hastily grabbing at the tiny paper squares while muttering curses under her breath. Stupid April Fool’s. Stupid charmer and his damn adorable dimples. Her stupid heart for falling for the irritating man. He never would have dared pull such a stunt before they were dating. As she rips the paper from her monitor, she notices that he’s written little notes to her on several of the squares.

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2

Let’s talk about AfroPop, how did you come to be the host for the 9th season? Did they reach out to you?


Nikki Beharie: Yeah, you know what’s funny? They reached out and our director for the show reached out and was sort of filling me in about what the show is. I was just like, “Hold up, stop for a second because I have been watching this program on and off for years.” I seen it in Atlanta, when I sort of like visit my family. As I would travel you can actually find it in different countries. Of course, they’re on different stations but I happen to just really love what it stood for. I didn’t know specifically they were all documentaries about the diaspora, I just felt like it was a really good documentary program.
The minute that they brought it up to me, I was like, “I’m game, lets do it.” I’ve told her, “Lets do this!”


What does that entail, being a host? Introducing it to fans and giving background in terms of the stories?

Nikki Beharie: I think it’s just amazing, I get to watch all these amazing documentaries and get insight. Personal insight from the filmmakers and the people who selected the films. The whole idea is just to sort of bridge the gap from, I guess we want to say the american viewing audience. Really, sort of bridge the gap of the diaspora, realize that there are so many untold vastly different stories. That don’t tend to get a lot of attention on the main stream media or even as narrative. These stories, I don’t even know if some of them would work. In terms of narrative or people would be bold enough.
We have a few in this season that are really difficult to stomach. I’ll at least throw this in there, they have like positive turns at the end but really difficult hard-hitting stories. I just don’t think anyone else would be brave enough to tell. Stories about, whether it’s like tribal warfare or issues with children, environmentalism. I just really get to dig in and learn as much as I possibly can about each individual episode or documentary. Then I just introduce them, which is the easiest part but really I feel like I was getting that education by being a part of this whole thing.

We’ve seen a lot of documentaries this year getting a lot of spotlight. It’s hard to tell which stories are going to catch an audience. Do you think showing it on TV is a better way to do it than theaters?

Nikki Beharie: Yeah. It’s kind of a small group of people that are making this thing happen and it’s really beautiful. These are filmmakers and people that don’t necessarily find the platforms all the time. To highlight the work in it. It’s really good work, beautiful, thought provoking, and life affirming work. If not life affirming just like being aware of what it’s like being a human being on a planet in all these different ways. I just feel like it was really grounding and extremely refreshing to get different takes on having brown skin and being on planet earth. There’s a lot of different versions of that, we just tend to just feel maybe like four or five versions of it.

You got a slew of stuff happening this year, including Jacob’s Ladder. It’s good to see you back on the big screen. Do you know when that’s coming out?


Nikki Beharie: Thank you. I don’t know exactly when it’s coming out, I think we actually have to go in for some re-shoots. To clear up some things and hangout more with those beautiful talented actors I get to work with. I have a few things that are cooking right now too, also in the film and then in theater but I haven’t signed on anything. So I really shouldn’t talk about it but yeah, I’m really excited about this year. It’s looking like a good busy year, I feel like I’m back on track.


Your fans will miss you on Sleepy Hollow. Was it a mutual decision not to come back or is it a different direction that the show wanted to go into?

Nikki Beharie: There’s a whole history behind that, that goes back to the very first year. It’s kind of one of those hieroglyphic, look at the puzzle pieces kind of thing. You know? Diehard fans know what’s been going on, I’ll say it was mutual, sure.


It’s always tough, obviously you’re not the first actor of a series to leave. When there’s a fan base there that they love your character, it’s hard for them to stomach your absence.


Nikki Beharie: Yeah, it was a really a wonderful opportunity and I really loved playing that character. I can not tell you how much I loved those fans, and I did have some really good times on the show. Sometimes things just take a turn. I haven’t seen the show this year because I’ve really been away and working on other things. I really do hope that it’s doing well and that people are still enjoying what they’ve been coming up with. There’s some really great crew and cast there, and some great creative thinkers on that production. I wish everybody well but I do think that my time there was up. I don’t think they were able to do anything else with my character, or couldn’t imagine it. 

Last year had lots of women of color break through in different areas from behind the scenes, on stage, and on television. What direction do you want to be seen more in? Is it being more of a film actress? Are you entertaining to go back on TV?

Nikki Beharie: Really the focus is just, in these times with what’s going on today. Different rights and people realizing there are a lot of issues that have gone, on both sides un-communicated. There is so much of a undercurrent of fear and just lack of identification of the humanity of people on both sides. I think it’s important to do anything that kind of speaks to that, anything.
Anything that’s well written and that’s kind of about something. Not hitting you over the head with it but anything that speaks to that. Asks you, doesn’t preach, but asks you to sort of see what part you’re playing in it. Whether it’s a play or a musical or whatever. I’m really open to just really great material. I’m really excited to be free and doing the things that I love to be completely honest.

What’s a good reason to start tuning in now to AfroPop?

Nikki Beharie: Well, a lot of what’s on television is for ratings and advertising. I’m not knocking that but there’s a lot of information that’s like “The revolution will not be televised” kind of thing. It actually will but as public media. If you want to go a little bit deeper, dig a little bit deeper. Just be a little bit more aware about some things. It’s important to see these things (at AfroPop), if you don’t happen to have the subscription to IFC, or you can’t fly to Sundance, or go to Cannes or whatever. You really want to see some really great hard hitting documentaries and support the arts, and support the community. That’s kind of that but that goes to say, I’m doing writing now. Working with people and also working for other people as an actor but going into being more of a behind the camera type person. I realized that there is lots of stories that people don’t really understand or that they see for a woman, a woman of color, young black woman. They don’t understand sometimes nuance or corks. There are just certain stories that people can’t imagine telling with someone that looks like me. We have to sort of be a part of that tipping point.