This Was So Adorable I Love Them So Much

school au is the best au for one piece

So there's this thing going around one piece ig about drawing Law with long hair. I wanted to give it a try, but since I don't post one piece stuff on my ig imma post it here

I love Law, he's always fun to draw <3

Pls rb, artist get more recognition that way :(

Who would've though Ace was the well balanced brother after all

Peaceful nights on the Polar Tang 💛

MISCHARACTERIZATIONS OF TODOROKI SHOUTO

inspired by @haik-choo

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POLITE: Todoroki is not polite. Not even a little bit. It’s canon that his personality is not far off from Bakugou (who is outwardly abrasive and rude). Keep that in mind. Todoroki is not nice, especially to people he doesn’t like - he won’t outwardly say it unless someone asks him, though. A good way to think of it is, Todoroki is just as mean as Bakugou except he’s passive about it.

FORMAL: It’s canon in the manga that Todoroki doesn’t speak formally, out of pure disrespect for his father. The way he talks is very casual, and you won’t ever see him use typical Japanese formalities. Don’t be afraid to write him spitting out cusses either, as it’s also canon that he cusses like a sailor.

SHY: I understand how Todoroki may come off as shy, and I understand how this idea of him has spread throughout the fandom - but, alas, I am here to crush this character trait under my boot. He’s not shy - he’s introverted. He doesn’t go out of his way to talk to people, not because he’s scared of talking to people, but because he genuinely doesn’t feel the need to. He’s not afraid of coming off as awkward while speaking - in fact, in most scenes where he has dialogue comes off as really awkward, but he never cares. Todoroki isn’t afraid/nervous to talk, he literally just doesn’t want to.

RULE FOLLOWER: This isn’t a trait I see pinned to his character a lot, but I feel like it ties into the whole entire polite/formal notion that Todoroki has stuck to his back - and I want to address it. This boy goes out of his way to break rules - he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about authoritative figures. This has been shown multiple times throughout both the manga and anime (him not listening to his dad’s wishes regarding his quirk and him proposing the idea to rescue Bakugou). He also doesn’t care much for punishments. In conclusion, this boy is not the voice of reason in any situation ever - stop writing him out to be responsible!

EMOTIONLESS: Todoroki was abused his whole childhood. He’s not stoic in the sense that he doesn’t like the people that surround him - he’s stoic in the sense that he doesn’t know social queues, or how “normal” teenagers interact. He’s casual when he’s talking, but that doesn’t mean he knows what teenage slang is. He’s not a rule follower, but that doesn’t mean he understands the concept of “normal” teenage rebellion (drinking, smoking, partying, etc.). It’s really important to comprehend this part of his character because this part of him shines through the most. He’s not cold-hearted, he just doesn’t know how to interact with people correctly because all he’s known his whole life is a horrendous cycle of abuse. He doesn’t know how to empathize with others, and he also doesn’t know how to express himself properly. 

HUMOR: This isn’t a mischaracterization of him, but I do want to bring special attention to his sense of humor - as he is easily one of the funniest characters in the show. Todoroki and Bakugou share the same sense of humor, in certain aspects. Their sense of humor is dry, and they really like sarcasm. Todoroki also loves poking fun at Bakugou, by going out of his way to say/do certain things to provoke the hothead. A few good examples of this are: when the class is discussing their hero studies, and Todoroki keeps repeating that both Bakugou and him are falling behind in class eventually leading to Bakugou screaming in frustration. A second example is when Todoroki introduces Bakugou as his friend in the manga, completely disregarding the blond’s loud protesting. In general, Todoroki thinks picking on people is fun.

Overall, I think Todoroki’s character is approached incorrectly throughout the majority of fanfics written. He is a very hard character to capture, to understand - but once you delve into the type of person he is, and pay attention to the small details of his personality he is very fun to write. 

I hope this helped anyone who has trouble capturing the essence of Todoroki Shouto - I know I would’ve loved to have something like this when I was learning about his character.

Proud of my boy :)

Friend: Are you okay?

Me to myself: To my recollection, Eliza is the only character who has a pony tail in act two, which is kinda weird. Except, if you think about it, all the characters in act 1 that have a ponytail (Hamilton, Laurens, Lafayette, etc.)are fighting in a war. But Eliza's battles are in act 2. Her husband's affair, the loss of her son, Alexander's death, and her 50 year struggle to preserve his legacy from the slandering of his enemies. She also had to raise 7 other children by herself and-

Me: I'm fine.

"Mister Beckman"

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,113 Drabble

(Image Source a:)(Image Source b:)

Synopsis: The first mate of the Red-Hair pirates is attempting to relax and enjoy his evening with you, but is rudely interrupted by Shanks' tinkering and clanging within the Captain's quarters.

Themes: First-mate x crew, established relationship, lounging, drinking, smoking, gentle touches, sweet domesticity.

Notes: The Beckman brain rot got me. This beloved first-mate lives rent free in my head, and I adore him.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry

Echoes of clangs of metal meeting wood reverberated throughout the hallway of the Red Force. The ship shook against the metal banging, its source within the Captain’s quarters beginning to crescendo upwards in volume and the drawn out clangs became more erratic and frantic with each shattered bash. 

Benn Beckman sat on the wooden deckchair, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows at each of the beaten clangs ringing in his ears. Reclining against your own deckchair, your legs comfortably rested over his thighs and secured beneath the heel of his left palm. He drew up his right hand and pulled the cigarette from his lips, blowing the smoke away from you before slyly raking his eyes over your body from the corner of his eyes. 

Your brows knit in concentration as you read over the itinerary to be completed within the next port. He gave your calf a gentle squeeze before slowly dancing his index finger over your shin up to the point of your knee. Pursing your lips and arching your left brow, you refused to break your eyes away from raking them over the itinerary as he continued to trail his digits over the cap of your knee. 

“Mister Beckman,” your warning tone rising at the end of his name, your tongue clicking in a small reprimand, “I am trying to read.” His fingers end their small dance against your skin, his firm hand cupping over your knee as he leans forward. The clangs continue to pick up their rapidity and volume, before halting all together with a murmur of angry words strung into loose sentences.

Beckman hums in response, placing the butt of his cigarette within the glass ash-tray and pressing it beneath the pad of his thumb to extinguish it. He joins his right hand against your skin by cradling your calf and moulding the flesh beneath it. The angry vocal murmur continues to rise alongside the recommencing clanging and clashing within the Captain’s quarters. 

“Mister Beckman,” you sighed, turning over the page of the itinerary and glaring at the pages, “Are you going to check on our Captain?” He grunted at your question, a lengthy sigh pulling itself from his chest immediately following. Leaning down in a deep stoop, he placed his lips against your shin, cradling your calf against his chest as he drew his lips up. Pressing several fluttered kisses against your flesh, he continued to trail his lips upwards with his smile felt in each flurry. 

“Darlin’,” he muttered against your skin, “It’ll take nothin’ short of-.” A particularly loud clang of bashed wood meeting metal broke his words away from his lips, his head snapping over in the direction of Shanks within his quarters. 

“Beckman! Becks!” Red-Haired Shanks yelled at the top of his voice. The booming anxiety had Beckman removing your legs from his lap, and rising immediately to his feet to sprint towards the direction of the Captain’s quarters. 

You sighed at his warmth disappearing from beneath your legs, your ears pricking for any indication of the source of the clanging and banging.

Managing to scribe several notes over the itinerary, you glanced up to see Beckman re-emerging from the Captain’s quarters with a look of defeat over his face. Eyes closed, a deep frown found purchase against his brows, with his jaw both tense and slack at the same time. You could tangibly see the pulsation of a vein beating against his temple, his pulse elevated and aggressive in its rapidity.

He withdrew a cigarette from his pack and rose it to his lips, igniting the end and inhaling a deep gulping lungful of the nicotine-riddled tobacco. His exhale was heavy, the weight of what occurred within the Captain’s quarters falling from his exasperated breaths. 

Brows upturning with empathy, your lips pouted at the sight of the first-mate in such a sorry state. You rose to your feet, walking slowly over to him as he allowed a small hushed growl depart from his lips on his next exhale. 

“Why is it always me?” his raspy rumble mixed with his chagrin, prompting a small smile to elevate to your lips. You raised your right hand up to collect his left cheek, his eyes opening at the soft impact. The gruffness of his silver grained stubble danced with the softness of your palms as they drew his face closer to you.

“Because it’s what you do,” you offered him your response, gazing lovingly into his eyes, “And we all love and appreciate you for it.” He allowed a softness to dance in his eyes as he gazed into your orbs, the love dancing tangible within your rounded globes. He removed his cigarette from his lips and hung his hand limply to his side, stooping down to meet your face with his. 

“We?” His lip ticked up at the corner as he continued his descent to meet your face with his own. 

“Of course ‘we’,” you praised him with your wide and innocent eyes floating between half-lidded eyes, “But we know I love you most.” You gave him a small wink, prompting a rumbled chuckle to rise within his chest.

“Thank you, Darlin’,” he leant his forehead against yours, ensuring his cigarette was far enough from both of you to not dance its ignited end against your skin. You closed your eyes, humming at the kiss of your foreheads meeting, before pulling apart from him and gazing once more into his grey orbs. 

“You going to tell me what that was all about, Mister Beckman?” You asked him. His smirk danced over his lips, his hand collecting fallen strands from your forehead and hooking it behind your ear. 

“There you go again. Sayin’ ‘Mister Beckman,’ like it doesn’t rouse somethin’ in you,” his voice growled in a subtle purr down into ear, the follicles on the back of your neck rising to attention. He chuckled into your ear before rising himself away to press a chaste kiss against your temple with a small promise of, “I’ll tell you about it later. For now, let's go sit back down. I need a drink.”

“Aye, sir,” you offered him a two fingered salute, shooting a small wink at him before turning and walking back to assume your prior position reclining against the chairs. He sighed deeply, watching the small swing of your hips in front of him and shaking his head. He whispered below his breath to vocalize his thoughts.

“This is why I went grey before fifty.” You turned and glanced at him over your shoulder with a sly smirk dancing at the corner of your lips. 

“And what pretty grey hair you have, Mister Beckman.”