its up to emma

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If there’s such a thing as peace, I will find it!

The Hero of Jiraiya’s Novel, Naruto 

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#tfw your crush beats up your ex-boyfriend to defend your honor

I feel like relationship goals is dating a guy and then when he dumps you to date his hotter older brother who is also a drug dealer who can afford to get you a lung transplant but maybe that’s just me

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366/366 days of swan queen

wow, i can’t believe i actually started and completed this. 2016 has been a wild year! thank you to all those who have gone through its ups and downs with me. emma and regina have grown impossibly closer, trekking through hell, the east coast, and another alternate universe together. i can’t wait to see what 2017 brings to swan queen, but also what it brings everything else. good luck, and a happy new year to everyone! ♥

You know what I want? 

I want Emma and Killian to get stuck with Neal for an entire day.

And at the end of it, after David and Snow pick him back up, they both collapse on the couch (as much as she loves her brother, he is a bit of a tiny tyrant) and Killian’s like, “Well, that was quite the adventure.” And Emma’s reply is, “Yeah. Good practice too.”

“Captain Hook doesn’t get cold feet.”

Translation: If you are suggesting I could have a single doubt about marrying Emma Swan, that if you are insinuating that for one goddamn second I would even entertain the notion of NOT marrying Emma Swan, I will go FULL Captain Hook on your ass, Cricket, FIGHT ME. I am facing a quandary, yes, but don’t you EVER think that for an instant I would question my True Love Emma Swan, my undying love and admiration for her or my dedication and loyalty to her. You think there might be a possible scenario in this or any realm in which I would be face to face with a future with Emma Swan, my Happy Ending, and conjure a reason why I WOULDN’T want it??

A man who doesn’t fight for what he wants deserves what he gets. I will fight with everything I have, every ounce of my soul, to be with Emma, even if that means fighting against myself and my own villainous misdeeds. I have my demons to vanquish, sins to atone for and forgiveness to earn. But don’t for one moment insinuate there would be even an inkling of a reason why I wouldn’t want to spend every last breath with Emma Swan as my wife or I will tear your tiny cricket legs off where you stand.

Happy 100th Once Upon a Time!!

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ENDLESS LIST OF FAVORITES

Actors/Actresses 2/?: Joanna Sotomura

“I did hear someone say once, I heard them at a bar and they were like she’d be so much cuter if she wasn’t Asian and at first I was like “Who are they talking about?” and then I realized it was me and I was like “Oh my God!”

accidentally writes a thing based off my own headcanon woops


It was the smell of freshly cooked breakfast that roused Eijun from his sleep. Pushing back the sheets tucked neatly around his chin ( Miyuki’s doing, he was sure ), he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Yawning, he arched his back, stretching his arms out in front of him and rotating his left shoulder.

It had become something of a habit; each morning he would check for strained muscles or any other form of discomfort along his left arm, from shoulder to fingertips. Chris-senpai had been adamant that he had to take proper care of his body as he worked his way towards going pro, emailing him with exercises and reminders when he knew a big match was coming up. Eijun wanted to be in top condition in the event that there were scouts amongst the members of crowd, searching for new members to invite to their team. But at the end of the day, he wasn’t going anywhere without Miyuki.

Letting his arms drop, Eijun shuffled over to the edge of the bed, reaching blindly for the pair of socks he’d discarded sometime in the night and slipping them over his chilled toes. Grabbing the first shirt he saw ( draped across the back of a nearby chair ), the pitcher eased it over his head and stumbled his way towards the small kitchenette where food awaited him. He realised, belatedly, that the shirt he’d put on wasn’t anywhere near his size, but he was steadfast in his mission for food. It wasn’t like he hadn’t worn Miyuki’s shirts before.

“Morning,” he rasped as he entered the small kitchen, making a beeline for the glass of water Miyuki had already set out for him.

The catcher merely hummed in response, focused on making sure the delicious food that had woken him didn’t burn.

After downing the glass of water, Eijun stepped up behind Miyuki and slid his arms around his waist, propping his chin on his shoulder. The catcher merely sighed, subtly leaning back into his embrace, although his eyes never once left the stove. He might not ever say it aloud, but Eijun knew all too well that Miyuki enjoyed his good morning hugs.

“I was wondering what I’d have to do to wake you up,” Miyuki mused with a slight smile, tilting his head and brushing his lips against Eijun’s temple, “Turns out that food was the answer, huh?”

“Mm, it does smell pretty good,” Eijun mumbled, twisting his head to bury his face against Miyuki’s neck. He’d already had a shower; his hair was damp and his skin smelled like citrus fruit. Eijun’s favourite. Lips curving into a smile against the side of his throat, he added under his breath, “And so do you.”

“Oi, oi,” Miyuki protested softly, although Eijun could hear the grin in his voice, “Keep that up and I’ll burn the rice.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

With a huff, the pitcher unwound his arms from where they rested atop Miyuki’s stomach and shifted off to the side, leaning against the counter. He noticed the glance the catcher shot in his direction in his peripheral vision, biting back a smile at the way his entire head snapped towards him moments later, lips parting.

“Is that my shirt?” Miyuki’s query was neither accusatory or annoyed, simply curious.

Eijun glanced down at himself and grinned. “Looks like it.”

With a flick of his wrist, Miyuki shut off the stove and moved the pan off the heat, making sure none of the rice stuck to the bottom before pressing into Eijun’s personal space, hips pinning him against the counter. One hand reached up to cup the younger man’s face, the other slipping around his back to draw him even closer still.

“I think I like you in my shirt as much as I like you out of it,” Miyuki breathed, lips but inches away from Eijun’s. His eyes were dark with promise behind the frame of his glasses, a playful smirk toying with the corners of his mouth.

The pitcher’s hands found the other man’s waist, tipping his head to brush their noses together, his voice hushed as he whispered into the space between them, “Which do you prefer?”

“I guess we could try and figure that out.” Came Miyuki’s reply, before their mouths finally met and Eijun allowed himself to melt into the catcher’s arms.

Needless to say, breakfast was long forgotten.