A list of reasons why a character may do something:
They’re selfless-They just can’t leave the kid that’s stuck despite the probability of them dying in the process of saving that kid.
They’re selfish - They just can’t do something because they’re too focused on what may happen to themselves
Their past - A dog once bit them when they were a young child and now they’re wary of dogs (doesn’t matter if they provoked the dog, bc people remember things like that)
They know way too much - As in, they might know the statistical probability of car crashes and therefor do not drive or get into cars (though of course, this isn’t the only example of this)
They’re naive/gullible - The character doesn’t see that clearly this person is against them because they just don’t pay attention enough/don’t see the warning signs.
Conspiracies - They just went way too deep into youtube and found way too many conspiracy videos and now everything is just a conspiracy. (Perfect example: Hodgins from Bones)
All of these could work for or against your character. Whether it be the secondary character that is too selfless and has to go back and save the main character, or the “villain” is just way to naive to see that your hero is taking apart their plan. Or maybe the MC got way into conspiracies and it led them to real conspiracies in the bad government they live in.
These are only some of the possibilities that I could think of, people are free to add to this list :)
Description: You and Hobi celebrate his birthday together.
A/N: Sinning + ultra cheesiness. I wrote this in like a day and a half and its 7 am and I haven’t slept yet so sorry if its horrible. Honestly I am god awful at fluff so I’m so sorry again. Um, @seokvie gave me the tummy fluff idea and it spread from there.
Another ficlet (under the cut!) of one of @obianidalasuggestion‘s prompts because they’re honestly too cute! In which Anakin has no shit together to speak of, Padme has a terrifying amount of shit together and Obi-Wan is constantly dying from this combination (stop giving him heart attacks guys be nice). And in which the author owes Ahsoka an apology and space bleach.
As much as they love each other traveling as a group is always kind of a nightmare.
Padme has three different carriers for her wardrobe, a bag for diplomatic gifts just in case a civil war at breaks out on their beach resort planet, and another one for her concealed blaster collection.
Obi-wan is the kind of person who bought special luggage compartments to keep all his things organized in a compact carry case and doesn’t understand WHY his spouses won’t use the ones he bought for them.
Anakin throws his pajamas and maybe a granola bar in a plastic bag and calls it a day.
Tonight I did like ten solid minutes of body weight exercises, which is a lot considering I can’t remember the last time I did a legitimate workout. I felt good after, but I can already tell I’m going to be sore in the morning from the squats 🙃
Hey there! I really loved your fanfic! it was really cool and I cant wait to read/listen to the rest of it!
(I’m bad with words, so I made a cool drawing instead….. backgrounds and weird perspectives arent really my forte but I gave it a shot ;) )
AAAAAAH LOOK AT THAT LITTLE BEAN! Poor thing, so scared! You did GREAT on the perspective, I love it! And the shading is just fantastic! This is so awesome, thank you <3 I will try not to disappoint with the rest!
Imagine being a bit of a misfit local in Villeneuve and Gaston defends you from the unwanted attention of a drunkard before seeking out your company for himself.
It was a typical Friday evening in Villeneuve. Half the village was in the tavern and the other half were sorted into various social gatherings at one another’s homes.
Naturally you didn’t fall in to either category. You generally spent your Friday evenings alone with a pen and ink after having dinner with your family. Writing was your thing. You liked to conjure up stories that exceeded the bounds of this small town life.
Tonight however, you were feeling utterly uninspired and, though you’d never admit it, a bit lonely. What you needed was a change of scenery, and unfortunately once the sun went down, there was just one option. It took all your willpower, but you shove your pen and journal into your apron before heading to the tavern to do some people-watching. If nothing else, it might inspire your writing.
You enter the pub unnoticed and slip over to the counter where you take a seat on your own.
“Hi Y/N,” the bartender, Patrick, greets.
“Hey Pat,” you reply with a kind smile.
“Can I get you a drink?”
You hesitate. “Uhh, maybe just one. Whatever tonight’s special is,” you oblige, sliding him a couple of coins. You weren’t much of a drinker, but you were desperate to overcome whatever mental block was holding you back this evening.
You turn around on your stool, taking in your surroundings. The place seemed both noisy and quiet at the same time. Or maybe you were just selectively filtering out background noise as you scanned the room.
There were the drunks who sat at the large central table, slamming their mugs down with enthusiasm after every sip. The Bimbettes, who occupied the smaller table one over where they whispered, gossiped and drooled over the town hunk, Gaston, with absolutely no shame. You gloss over them and roll your eyes in disgust.
And of course there was Benny, the musician. He wandered around providing his own unique melodies day and night, somehow surviving off the pittance of coins that got tossed his way. He played the fiddle and harmonica, but there was no doubt in anybody’s mind that his instrument of choice was the accordion.
In the far right corner was where things truly got interesting though. That particular territory was where all of the least astute inhabitants of Villeneuve gathered and descended into a collective mania. It was almost pathetic how little alcohol was required to fuel that portion of the room. Their activities ranged anywhere from eye-poking and arm-wrestling to juggling produce and throwing knives. Not surprisingly, that side of the tavern was always filled with both laughter and physical injury.
Gaston must find that corner interesting too, because his chair is situated just across the way, in perfect view of the inevitable shenanigans. It was almost as if the villagers were unknowingly performing for him. You make a mental note of this.
“Here you go,” Patrick announces, returning with your drink.
“Thanks,” you reply absentmindedly as you take out your notebook and begin to write.
A couple of hours pass much in the same fashion, with you bouncing between writing and observing, blissfully unaware of the leech of a man who had taken a seat beside you.
“Hellllo darrrlin’,” the old goat mutters in his drunken stupor. You look up at the man. Middle aged. Probably had a wife and kids, but he was so far gone he could barely hold his own head up.
Your senses are suddenly on high alert. You can smell the alcohol on this man from two feet away.
“Cannn I… buy you a driiiinnk?” He slurs with what you can only assume was meant to be a flirtatious smirk.
“No thank you, I’m busy,” you answer firmly, turning your attention back to your notebook in the hopes that your disinterest would make him go away. However, it seemed you would not be so lucky.
“Aww come onnnn,” the man groans in disappointment. “You and me will have a reaaal nice tiiime.”
He reaches over and places a hand on your arm, and before you even have a chance to react, someone else snatches his wrist.
Your heart skips two beats; one in horror and one in surprise.
“I believe the lady said ‘no’.“ Much to your surprise, it was Gaston’s booming voice that intervened. His unexpected presence gives you goosebumps, which you attribute to both shock and relief.
Gaston removes the man’s hand from you forcibly with a grimace.
“Shove off and let the girl alone,” he orders resolutely.
“And if I doooon’t?”
Gaston’s expression darkens. “Then you will answer to me,” he growls impatiently.
“Yeah,” Gaston confirms, promptly punching the man in the face and sending him reeling backward. His glass hits the floor.
If the whole tavern hadn’t been looking already, they certainly were now with all the commotion.
You gasp, shocked by the scene unfolding before your eyes.
The man swings his fists wildly, but to no avail. Gaston grabs him by the collar and drags him out the front door.
“Get out, scum! And if I ever see you harassing that girl again, I will tie you to my horse and drag you out of Villeneuve for good, is that understood?!"
"Y-y-yesss sir,” the man stutters pathetically, scrambling to get his balance as he flees.
You didn’t know what to do. You were utterly frozen in place, shaken and confused.
Gaston steps back into the tavern and straightens his jacket when he notices everyone staring his way.
“There’s nothing more to see here. Get back to whatever you were doing!” He instructs sternly. And they do. Probably out of fear, you realize.
You’d never spent much time near Gaston. Your impressions of him were based solely on his reputation as an ego-centric military playboy. Anyone could see the man was full of himself, just by the way he carried himself as he walked down the street. And he certainly wasn’t the brightest guy around.
However none of those preconceived notions mattered now as Gaston himself approached you.
“Are you alright?"
"Yes, I’m fine,” you reply, a bit desperate for breath. “Thank you.”
Despite the arguably unnecessary violence, Gaston seemed to have had your best interest at heart.
“It’s no trouble at all, my dear.“
You smile weakly and grab your belongings with every intention of heading straight home.
“Where are you going?” Gaston asks, with a hint of concern in his voice.
“H-home?” Your certainty wavers as your cheeks flush pink.
“So soon?“ He furrows his brow disappointedly. "Won’t you… join me for a drink?” he asks with a dashing smile.
“Well,” you hesitate, looking for an excuse. “I umm…"
“Come on, I insist!” Gaston exclaims enthusiastically, placing a hand on your back and leading you towards his favorite spot in the tavern.
How do you think Shawn would propose to his girlfriend and after how long? Will he be like super nervous?
of all, Shawn would be so fucking nervous. Like he would literally almost be
sick to his stomach. His hands would shake, his voice would stutter, his palms
would be sweaty and his body would feel heavy and numb. Like even though, he
knew, you loved him more than anything and he was aware you wanted to spend the
rest of your life with him, he would honestly be so nervous for you either
saying no or your family not being thrilled about it or that he may fuck up the