Say what you want about the early Funimation Dub but I remember getting chills when I heard Goku say this line as a Little Kid. When I was a Chubby kid getting bullied I DREAMED of saying this to my antagonists
Perfect for Racists, Trolls, Haters, Bullies etc etc just replace the word saiyan
I’ve only got to use this line twice in my life but it was worth it each time haha
This is for @shebbert for the WOY gift exchange! You asked for a drawing perhaps with sports, so Peepers is trying to organize a tee ball game. He’s a bit mad that someone has forgotten the ball. Hater has an idea, however …
Here it is, guys! Some of you have been leaving me the nicest comments about this fic, and I just want to say thank you again for believing in it and in me. I’m sorry it’s taking me longer than I usually like to get these chapters out to you, but my word count per chapter has also jumped, so I hope that makes up for it a little. I will do my best to get you guys a couple more chapters by Christmas, but ‘tis the season, and there are gift fics that I need to turn my attention to (which is still good news if you enjoy my writing!). A thousand thanks again for your love and support! Have a lovely day!
Find it on AO3. Missed a chapter? Get caught up here.
Summary: Killian Jones, the notorious Captain Hook, has been on a quest to kill the Dark One and avenge the death of his first love for over one hundred fifty years. But when he crosses the Evil Queen, he’s magically transported to New York City, a strange land full of fascinating wonders, the foremost of which is Emma Swan, a cynical single mother with no time for fairy tales, real or imagined. A Captain Swan Enchanted AU. (Captain Swan modern AU, Captain Swan Enchanted Forest AU. Romance & Adventure. Rated G.)
Five seconds feels like thirty minutes to Emma as Walsh and
Killian eye each other, and the room is silent, save for the distant sound of Henry
calling out to one of his friends on his way up the block to the bus stop. Walsh clears his throat first, throwing Emma a
questioning look before he moves forward with his hand out. “Uh, Killian, is it?” he asks, forehead furrowed
in confusion. “Oscar Walsh.”
Killian quickly cradles his mug against his side with his
left arm in order to free up his hand to shake.
“Killian Jones,” he responds brusquely, and Emma can see Walsh wince the
tiniest bit as Killian’s crushing grip belies the polite expression on his face.
Walsh steps back, plastering on the guarded, slightly
strained smile Emma knows he reserves for difficult customers, and his eyes
flit between her and this strange, handsome new man who appears to have spent
the night at her place. “Uh, Emma?”