excuse me, excuse me attention please. i am desperately searching for some laid back ass plots and partners. i’m talking texts and chats and messaging back and forth bc yes we love our chars and our plot but we are just too damn busy or we can’t get in the right mindset to write something perfect rn. partners i can hc with in the middle of the night bc we have sO MANY IDEAS that may become a reality but there’s no rush for it. you know what i mean? like yes let’s start a para one day but while i put off writing (bc i’m lazy af or at work or you’re busy or dealing with life) let’s have them texting or a little gif chat or phone call. let’s start a dozen different plots and pairings (bc we always take on too many) and there’s no rush. let’s be scattered and start multiple paras at a time and some are long and some aren’t and it’s just no big deal. just something fun and relaxed where there’s no need to feel bad ab not having a ton of muse or time. am i making sense. come to me pls.
a young jazz singer falls in love with an established film noir actress and the singer finds out the actress had been sending her anonymous roses so she dedicates a song to her and there’s a scene where she’s singing it on stage in a club and all other sound fades out and the camera focuses on the actress, who’s regarding her with interest
a sixties era student falls in love with a gay civil rights activist who quit her career as a professor and the film is half about activism and half about their soft domestic lives together and the entire aesthetic and wardrobe is dreamy like vintage sixties advertisements
an up and coming undercover journalist in new york city who’s cold and mean and dresses only in pencil skirts is seduced by a woman played by like, monica belluci, and drawn into a diamond heist and a passionate love affair
a university student is on a brief study abroad trip in italy and notices a dreamy lady on a beach in a glamorous creme bathing suit against the backdrop of sparkling water but doesn’t think much of it until she sees her again drinking wine in the hotel bar and looking mysterious and smoky and the film is sort of like salvatore by lana del rey and includes a drive through sicily in a white car
a bored and rich woman finds out her renowned husband’s been sleeping around when he’s on business trips so she plots how to destroy his career and reputation meanwhile she’s lonely and growing close to the sweet flustered maid and buying her things and giving her clothes she’s ‘too old for now’ and absentmindedly helping with chores and asking her about her life over wine and asking her to ‘stay for awhile’
This is worth seeing even if you know all about it, its still a good reminder and a caution that the first time US Fascism lost, but is back again. Could it be because they did nothing to the plotters.
The “Business Plot” (also the Plot Against FDR and the White House Putsch) was an alleged political conspiracy in 1933 wherein wealthy businessmen and corporations plotted a coup détat to overthrow United States President Franklin D. Roosevelt. In 1934, the Business Plot was publicly revealed by retired Marine Corps Major General Smedley Butler testifying to the McCormack-Dickstein Congressional Committee. In his testimony, Butler claimed that a group of men had approached him as part of a plot to overthrow Roosevelt in a military coup. One of the alleged plotters, Gerald MacGuire, vehemently denied any such plot. In their final report, the Congressional committee supported Butler’s allegations of the existence of the plot, but no prosecutions or further investigations followed, and the matter was mostly forgotten.
On July 17, 1932, thousands of World War I veterans converged on Washington, D.C., set up tent camps, and demanded immediate payment of bonuses due them according to the Adjusted Service Certificate Law of 1924. This “Bonus Army” was led by Walter W. Waters, a former Army sergeant. The Army was encouraged by an appearance from retired Marine Corps Major General Smedley Butler, who had considerable influence over the veterans, being one of the most popular military figures of the time. A few days after Butler’s arrival, President Herbert Hoover ordered the marchers removed, and their camps were destroyed by US Army cavalry troops under the command of General Douglas MacArthur. Butler, although a self-described Republican, responded by supporting Roosevelt in that year’s election.
In a 1995 History Today article Clayton Cramer argued that the devastation of the Great Depression had caused many Americans to question the foundations of liberal democracy. “Many traditionalists, here and in Europe, toyed with the ideas of Fascism and National Socialism; many liberals dallied with Socialism and Communism.” Cramer argues that this explains why some American business leaders viewed fascism as a viable system to both preserve their interests and end the economic woes of the Depression.
Anonymous asked: “How do I make a pair ‘shippable’? Like, how do I make their relationship into one that readers will support, and not just wrinkle their nose at?”
Writers and “shipping” don’t always seem to go together. As readers, we can feel free to cheer on any relationship in series or book we read, but from the writer’s vantage point, there really aren’t usually as many options. It’s kind of hard to explain, but if you, as the writer, can see two characters getting together, you might not even be able to imagine other possible relationships.
Summary: They may have kidnapped the wrong person but they still believe you’ll be useful.
Genre: drama, action, humour
A/N:aka the boys are such dweebs they be kidnapping the wrong person.
The car’s engine revved, a leather clad arm wrapped around the back of the seat in front of you as the driver shifted in his chair, the sound of leather on leather could barely be heard over the heavy bass of the music he was listening to and you swallowed heavily as he lowered the music and placed the laptop that he had just been furiously typing away at on the passenger seat. This boy wasn’t wearing a mask, black hair styled so you could just about make out his frown as he looked at you, lips pulled into a thin line before he let out a sigh, “You’re not the heir.”
It was hard not to give a snarky answer, but the glint of the gun resting peacefully on the dashboard made you bite back your initial response and instead settle for looking down at your lap as you shook your head, the movement making you slightly dizzy. This time the sigh he let out was more of a grumble and you looked up just in time to see him run a hand through his black hair, revealing an undercut that made your hands itch to feel the texture. But as you tugged lightly on the rope, the boys’ eyes locked on your shoulders as he watched them roll slightly under your now bloodied fur coat.
“Stop struggling,” you glanced up at him and froze, his gaze was fierce and you could tell he was no longer frustrated but angry. “Why are they such idiots?” you heard him mutter but decided it would be safer to look out of the darkened window, surveying the building with a sense of ironic nostalgia. You were right next to the hotel you had called home for the past few years, with its marble floors and golden bannisters but a part of you knew you were never going to be able to go back; unless you were in a body bag.
The door opened and cold air filled the car, as goose bumps erupted over your bare legs at not just the temperature drop but the low, husky voice that filled the car, “Yoongi, the boys are on the way down,” before he could finish his sentence, blue and red lights filled the car with light and you caught a glimpse of deep dimples as he smirked before running a hand through his hair with a sigh, “get ready to drive.”
“Boss, if I wasn’t ready then I would be a useless getaway driver,” Yoongi’s voice may have sounded bored but you could sense the challenge in it, but the boss simply hummed in agreement, there was an air of superiority to him. As he picked up the computer and dumped it next to you without looking, although Yoongi’s head whipped around to check it was alright, before he shot his boss a glare; but the boss had kicked his feet onto the dashboard and was fiddling with the gun, the click of the safety being turned on and off kept you on edge.
But your attention had been diverted for too long, gunshots soon filled the silence, you flinched before looking out of the window, jumping back slightly when you noticed a dark figure leaning against the car, you weren’t at an angle where you would be able to get a good look at the figure’s face but you were certain they were a part of whatever was happening. A glint pulled your attention from trying to see his face and now you watched with interest as the knife balanced precariously on his knuckles, a bang to your window sent you flying back in surprise as you bit your tongue, again.
Two large hands were on the window, before a fox masked face popped up and you felt an involuntary shudder run down your spine, your body froze and you watched as he disappeared running off, as he pulled a gun from his belt and caught the knife thrown at him by the figure who had been leaning against the car, lifting his mask to flash the car a broad smile before he secured it back over his face.
Just as you had begun to readjust, trying to make as little sound as possible, the door was swung open to reveal the figure who had been leaning, “Boss?” he was obviously hesitant about entering the car, he seemed ready to tackle you if he was told to, wearing all black you wondered if he was going to be your acting grim reaper, but it seemed they had other plans for you.
“Stand down, Guk.” The boy narrowed his eyes at you but climbed into the car regardless, leaving the door open as he moved up so he was now sitting next to you, a jean covered thigh pressed against yours. He smelt like cigarettes and his ears were covered in piercings, but now that he was sitting next to you, fidgeting with his fingers as he glanced up at you every now and then before going back. But this shy boy act was dropped as someone else climbed into the car, a lamb mask was discarded on the floor and your gaze stayed trained on it, not daring to look up until another gunshot rang out and you were shoved into the glass as someone else climbed into the car.
“Floor it Yoongi!” the door slammed shut and the car shot away from the curb, the engine loud on the otherwise silent streets and after a few minutes of silence, two more masks joined the floor and someone let out a loud moan.
The moan was what made your head snap up, and you wish you hadn’t; a boy was clutching at his chest, blood seeped through his long fingers that you recognised from being splayed out on the window when he had still been wearing a fox mask. Your eyes locked with his and another moan left his lips, and your eyes widened before he was elbowed by another member, “You’re wearing a bulletproof vest, stop moaning Tae.”
“Then where is the blood coming from?” your voice sounded small in the car surrounded by these boys, and the ones sitting in the back sits began to laugh between them before Taehyung pulled out a handful of red capsules,
“Fake blood, we have to make the police think they got one of us,” his hand clenched into a fist and red liquid spilled from the cracks in between his fingers, before he wiped it his thighs, “But I’m a pros, a bullet to the chest won’t take me down.” He patted his chest proudly before the boys all groaned telling him to shut up.
Then as the car fell back into comfortable silence with only the purring of the engine to be heard, the boss coughed before his head turned to take you in and within seconds he let out a frustrated groan, “Did I not say we are here for the heir?” The boys all nodded, looking down at their laps and you were surprised by the lack of backchat as you’d assumed they were invincible, “Then what is this doing in the car?”
The fox boy raised his head slowly, “we thought you said she was the next best thing.” You sunk into your seat; if they didn’t need you then they would dispose of you and you refused to die like this. So as you listened to their heavy breaths, you were really busy plotting how you would survive this and it included your teeth on Guk’s earrings.
“You’ll prove your usefulness won’t you?” You looked up, locking eyes with the boss and despite your fear you managed to hold eye contact before you nodded, he raised an eyebrow with a smirk before he leant back into his chest with a satisfied sigh, “Next time you don’t get me want, you won’t be allowed on missions for a month.”
For a threat that seemed so tame, and probably safer than taking part in a mission, you were surprised by how much they kicked up, and they continued to whine and mumble until the window was wound down and the boss stuck a hand out of the car, the sharp sound of gunfire silencing the complaints.
“A good subplot not only pushes the plotline, it also intersects it. Subplots aren’t free floating, and they aren’t detours – they’re connected to the plot. They may be connected because the love interest on the subplot line pays off on the plotline. Perhaps the love interest (a subplot) in a detective story is a fellow detective who is working on the case (the plot) or is a witness or some other person who holds an important clue to solving the case. Perhaps the protagonist has a hobby or avocation (a subplot), such as jogging, mountain climbing, or kayaking, that pays off in the main story (the plot) by becoming the means by which the protagonist escapes danger.
A good subplot carries a story’s theme. The plot is what the film is about, but a subplot shows what the film is really about. Many times writers write scripts because of their interests in the significance of their subplots.
Subplots can be about almost anything. Often they’re the love story that tells us something about the nature of love. Sometimes they carry important individual themes of identity, integrity, greed, or “finding oneself.”
Sometimes a subplot reveals a character’s vulnerability. We often see this in detective films in which the macho detective has to be strong and prepared for anything on the plotline. But when he’s with his girlfriend or mother, we see his vulnerable side. Sometimes we see a character’s goals, dreams, and desires through subplots. It’s as if the character is too busy “doing” the plot to tell us much about himself or herself. Subplots give characters a chance to relax, to dream, to wish, and to think about larger visions.
A subplot can show us the transformation of characters. It can show us the beat-by-beat development of a character’s identity, self-esteem, or self-confidence. It can help us see why and how a character changes.”
Source: Seger, Linda. Making a Good Script Great, 3rd. Ed. Silman-James Press, 2010. Kindle File.
Jonathan Crane: The extreme coupon/bargain hunter. You want 27 orange juice containers for some reason? He’s got a coupon for that. You want a bunch of guns without the consequence of blackmail later? He’s got 3 coupons for that. You want a pack of Oreo’s, but don’t have a coupon? Well put that shit back on the shelf b/c it’s the coupon way or fear toxin way, no exception.
Edward Nigma: The thrift shop prowler. May it be a Value Village or some obscure store, he will have visited it at some point. Why spend $50 on a new cane when you can get an old one for 99 cents, and just modify it? Where else do you think he buys so many suits, Abercomie & Finch? Nah, he’s too busy devising plots designed for tormenting Batman to make money for that. He’ll wear your grandpa’s hand me downs any day, and just say it’s high class (What? It probably was at some point).
Poison Ivy: The window browser, aka the ‘i’m shopping but not really’ type. Spends more time admiring the clothes than actually buying them, unless she’s with friends, in which case she may indulge a bit. If she see’s someone else admiring clothes, she will vigorously insist they try it on until they decide to buy it. She’ll probably have everyone else blowing all the money before the end of the trip, and then walk away herself with a full wallet. The only exception to this is the organic beauty product store, or any organic store in fact. All products will be bought from the shelf before the end of the hour, and some poor sucker will be seduced into carrying it home for her. What a queen.
Harley Quinn: The no limit spender. Every shopping trip is a fresh challenge to see how far she can push the newest credit card she stole. Everything she buys is worth it in her eyes, and if she ever runs short, she can call up some ‘gal-pals’ to persuade Mr.Wayne into loaning his money to them again. Even though it barely stays in her hands, she seems to always have an endless flow of cash from somewhere.
Jervis Tetch: The know it all. This man is in the scene. You want tea? He knows a store. You want cute doily shit and flower headbands? He knows a store. You want mind controlling technology and maybe some cat food? He can probably hook you up with the mind tech, but he knows a store for cat food as well. You want books on neurosciences and the working of the brain? He knows several bookstores with that shit, cause he shops there frequently. You want access to the most exclusive stores in town? He can do that. He’s a shopping champ.
Harvey Dent: The indecisive shopper. Go shopping with him, and you’ll spend more time looking at the stuff in the store than actually buying it. He’ll hum, and huh, and flip his way through every item that may have caught his attention. If he see’s a suit, he’ll spend a solid 20 minutes deciding if it’d be better two toned, or monotone. Don’t try to tell him to buy it or not either, or you’ll be standing for even longer as he contemplates wringing your neck in the store or parking lot.
Joker: The erratic buyer. He’ll go from socks to swords in minutes, and you probably won’t fully grasp what the fuck is going on throughout the entire trip. He’ll be pushing a cart that’ll have kazoos, guns, a goldfish, twenty something pairs of underwear, a golf club, and a laser cat pointer, and somehow he’ll manage to make it into a functional plan. Only shop with him if you want to get doused with laughing gas, or get a massive headache out of sheer confusion. Whichever one comes first.
Victor Fries: The miracle worker. Browses around, purchases only the necessities, chips in to help whenever you’re a dollar short or something, somehow knows all the best deals, and is the ideal shopping buddy. Just keep him away from stores involving ice, cryotechnology, or couples things. It may be several hours before he decides to leave them.
Oswald Cobblepot: The snob. His motto is ‘Shop? Why shop when you can just commission everyone to make the clothes for you!’. He’d rather invite Black Mask to tango dancing than be caught in a Target.