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figtreeandvine · 5 months

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I want to write a movie that is sort of the flip side of a Hallmark holiday movie. Not an anti-Hallmark movie, just like the other side of the same coin.

It starts with a well-dressed professional woman driving a convertible along a country road, autumn foliage in the background, terribly scenic. She turns onto a dirt road/long driveway, and stops next to a field of Christmas trees, all growing in neat, ordered rows, perfectly trimmed and pruned to form. She steps out of the car--no, she's not wearing high-heels, give her some sense!--and knocks on the door of a worn but nice-looking farmhouse. An older woman, late fifties maybe, answers the door, looking a bit puzzled. The younger woman asks if she can buy a Christmas tree now, today. The older woman says they don't do retail sales--and the younger woman breaks down crying.

Cut to the two women sitting at the kitchen table with cups of tea. The young woman (Michelle), no longer actively crying, explains that her mother loves Christmas more than anything, but is in the hospital with end-stage cancer. Her doctors don't think she'll live to see December, let alone Christmas. Nobody is selling Christmas trees in September, so could the older woman please make an exception, just this once? The older woman (Helen) regretfully explains that they have a contract to sell their trees that forbids outside sales. The younger woman nods, starts to stand up, but the older woman stops her with a hand and asks her what hospital her mother is in. After she answers the older woman says that "my Joe" will deliver a tree the next day. "Contract says I can't sell you a tree, but nothing says I can't give you one."

Next day "Joe" shows up at the hospital in flannel and jeans, with a smallish tree over her shoulder. Oh, whoops, that's Jo, Helen's daughter, short for Joanna, not Joe. Jo sets up the tree and even pulls out a box of lights and ornaments. Mother watches from hospital bed with a big smile as Jo and Michelle decorate the tree. Cue "end of movie" type sappiness as nurses and other patients gather in the doorway, smiling at the tree.

Cut to Michelle sitting in her dark apartment, clutching a mug of tea, staring out at the falling snow and the Christmas lights outside. Her apartment has no tree, no decorations, nothing. She starts at a knock on the door, goes to open it. Jo is standing there, again holding a tree over her shoulder.

Plot develops: the second tree is a gift, because Michelle might as well get it as the bank. The contract for the tree sales was an /option/ contract, which prevents them from selling to anyone else, but doesn't guarantee the sale. The corporation with the option isn't going to buy the trees, but Helen and Jo can't sell them anywhere else, and basically they get nothing. They'll lose the farm without the year's income. Michelle asks to see the contract and Jo promises to email it to her.

Next day at a very upscale law firm, Michelle asks at the end of a staff meeting if anyone in contract law still needs pro bono hours for the year. No one does, but a senior partner (Abe) takes her to his office and asks about it. She says the contract looks hinky to her ("Is that a legal term?" "Yes.") but contract law's not her thing. He raises an eyebrow and she grins and pulls a sheaf of paper out of her bag and hands it over. He reads it over, then looks up at her. "They signed this?"

More plot develops. Abe calls in underlings--interns, paralegals, whatever--and the contract is examined, dissected, and ultimately shredded (metaphorically). It's worse even than it looks--on January 1st Helen and Jo will have to repay the advanced they received at signing. The corporation has bought up a suspicious number of Christmas tree farms in previous years after foreclosure, etc.

Cut to Abe explaining all this to Helen and Jo while sitting with them and Michelle in a very swanky conference room. The firm is willing to take on the case pro bono, hopefully as a class's action suit for other farmers trapped by the contract--but there's no way it can go to court before January. Which will be too late to save the farm's income for the year. They might get enough in damages to tide them over, but….

After Michelle sees Helen and Jo out, she comes back and asks Abe if there's anything they can do immediately. Abe looks thoughtful for a long moment, then gets a really shark-like grin on his face. "Maybe…."

Cut to Helen wearing a bathrobe, coming into her kitchen in the morning. She looks out the window…and there's a food truck stopped in her driveway. She pulls a coat on over her robe and goes out--two more trucks have pulled up while she does this. Driver of the first truck asks her where they park. Another truck pulls up behind the others. Behind that is a black BMW--Abe rolls down the window and waves. Helen directs the trucks to the empty field/yard next to the house. Abe pulls up next to Helen's car and Jo's truck and parks. He and Michelle get out--Abe wearing a total power suit, Michelle in weekend casual.

The case will be easier if the corporation initially sues them for violating the (uninforcible!) contract, rather than them suing to corporation (damn if I know, but it's movie logic). So they're going to sell the trees now, and rounded up some food trucks and whatnot to draw people in.

Cue montage of Jo and Michelle running around helping people set up while Abe and Helen watch from the kitchen table. The table starts out covered in file folders…and slowly gains coffee cups and plates of cinnamon rolls. It becomes increasingly clear here that Abe and Helen are becoming as close as Jo and Michelle.

Everything gets set up and a very urban, very motley crowd appears--tats and studs and multiracial couples and LGBTQ parents and everything--and everyone is having a wonderful time eating funnel cake and choosing their tree so Jo and a bunch of rainbow-haired elves can cut it for them. At which point someone shows up from the corporation (maybe with a sheriff's deputy?) and starts yelling at Helen, who's running checkout. And suddenly Abe appears from the house and you realize why he's wearing that suit on a Saturday….

Cue confrontation and corporate flunky running off with their tail between their legs, blustering about suing. Cue Jo kissing Michelle. Cue Helen walking over and putting a hand on Abe's shoulder and smiling at her.

I want the lawyers to be the heroes because they are lawyers and know the law. I want a lesbian who lives in the country with her mother. I want urbanites to turn out as a community to help someone who isn't even part of their community. I want Michelle to keep working at her high-power job, loving Christmas and grieving her mother.

#hallmark #anti-hallmark #movie plot

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dilamo · 3 months

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I want a story where the hero(es) and the villain(s) are not fighting with each other ( rather pretending) to fool the public into thinking they're safe and secure by the government's defense system (i.e heroes) and the villains getting their fair share of amount to do these stunts irl. The heroes are rewarded for giving a perfect public status to the government.

And I want a common man/woman who knows all this info in a tragic incident and they're fighting the system to let the public know the true colours of the society controlled by the government they're living in.

I hope my idea goes into any stories/plots of a series or movie.

#ao3 #ao3 link #ao3 feed #short story #movie plot #webcomic #webtoon #web series #mystery #books and reading

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0range-flames · 3 months

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Alright let's write a plot for a Super-Why movie go

#super why #movie plot

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chtouchwrite · 2 years

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I was told love should be unconditional. That’s the rule, everyone says so. But if love has no boundaries, no limits, no conditions, why should anyone try to do the right thing ever? If I know I am loved no matter what, where is the challenge?

— Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

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shari-berri · 2 years

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A Top Gun: Maverick Rant

Just saw Top Gun: Maverick yesterday and omfg it was just so amazing that I need to rant

Warning: spoilers, obviously

Miles Teller (Rooster) looked so much like Anthony Edwards (Goose) in the original that I was shocked

Phoenix was an absolute girlboss and I was all for it, babe wasn’t taking any shit from Hangman

Hangman was obviously reminiscent of how Mav used to be and I thought that the whole cycle repeating was a nice touch

Hangman’s name being Jake Seresin made total sense, manz acted like one would expect a ‘Jake’ to act

I kept being hung up on the fighter pilot helmets and the designs on them with the call signs

By far, my favorite helmet had to be Hangman’s

The design of Hangman’s helmet was just fantastic! The chalkboard writing style of the letters, the missing vowels and the _ to represent a missing letter was just genius. I loved how they incorporated the actual game of hangman into his helmet’s design to the point where I don’t think words can describe it

Idk who the fuck this Jenny was but I was okay with it

That scene with Mav out the window though and seeing her daughter…the cringe was real

Mav’s workbench having photos of him and Goose was an emotion in and of itself

Ok but Mav asking Goose to talk to him just-bye 😭

The football scene was just *chef’s kiss*

Real sad to see Iceman like that but apparently Val Kilmer has throat cancer so it was nice to incorporate him but not push him too hard to reprise a role

Was not expecting Mav to just absolutely body Rooster in the snowy enemy territory

The scene where Mav and Rooster steal an f-14 tomcat was not as intense as I thought it would’ve been

Also it just made me think of when you break into the military base in GTA, steal a jet from the hangar, and then crash into another hangar or get blown to smithereens by a tank

I want to know the lore of the call signs so bad!!!

Like, please let me know the origins behind Bob, Fanboy, Coyote, Phoenix, etc

I was living for the dynamic between Mav and Hondo 100%

Finally, apparently there is an official website where you can get your own call sign

#top gun #top gun movie #top gun maverick #movie plot #movie review #rant post #just ranting #rant #bradley bradshaw #pete mitchell #maverick #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #nick goose bradshaw #iceman #top gun: maverick

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jorjeezealien · 8 months

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Sky High and Harry Potter and the Cursed Child have the same plots.

#harry potter #superhero #movie plot #i dont think theres a tag for sky high #comparing movies

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ohallo · 2 years

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Okay I literally just had a dream of a Wario movie trailer and I fell like I need to share it so here’s the plot:

Basically Wario spends all of his gold on booz and parties for him and Waluigi but it’s revealed that the main reason he collects so much gold is because it’s his jobs to supply the gold used in Mario parties. So when the next one happens he has to pretend that all of the gold was stolen and help get it back all while trying to actually get enough money to make the mario party go on without the others figuring out what really happened. He tells Waluigi that he shouldn’t get involved but he decides to go on his own to help.

I just thought it was interesting and figured someone might want to use it so here it is I guess.

#dream #movie plot #movie pitch #mario #nintendo #mario bros #mario party #wario world #warioware #wario #waluigi #mario & wario #wario land #like legit it was a full as trailer it was so weird #ohallo stuff

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averagepop-cult · 8 months

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who’s ready for the “new” Disney movie where an girl/ princess will have some sort of magic with some sort of an animal companion with an villain who want her magic

#Disneyslander #movie plot

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halfwaybyaccident · 1 year

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My Goncharov movie idea:

Everyone makes it!

Anyone who wants to, films a scene, and indicates if it's 1st, 2nd, or 3rd act, or something.

Then all of the scenes are grouped together by act, and then put together to make Goncharov!

#gonchorav #goncherov #goncharev #goncharov #tumblr #movie plot #movie ideas

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imkeepinit · 10 months

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#humor #reinterpretation #movie plot #Raiders of the Lost Ark #movie humor

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jaewrotethis · 2 years

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1- A Place The Fates Forgot To Add Happiness To...

Part One- Neverland...

Sunday I’m skating the streets of Croydon, London. The day isn’t hot but I began sweating hours ago. The few people on the sidewalk move out of my way when they see me coming. It’s 2pm. I’m meant to be in school in this moment but haven’t gone in days. Instead, I spent the week leaving home at 6am and skating through downtown to a park at the end of the city. Beyond the skyscrapers and passed all the smog, there are trees. Beautiful, tall, green trees. A forest I would assume. I’ve never been brave enough to venture into it, but there is a special tree that I climb. At the beginning of the forest there’s a tall, thick, twisted tree, my tree. It’s the first tree, of the first row that starts the seemingly never ending forest.

Hours on hours I spend skating away my troubles through the city, growing hungry. I work my way through the people and streets until stopping at a small café. I wait for the small family walking towards the café and slip in behind them, sounding the tiny bell above the door. I stand by the trash bins while they order their food and I wait for them to walk over by the fountain drinks. When they crowd the machine, I join them. Ducking and filling a cup then crouching away with it. I choose a booth in the back and sit alone, resting my board next to me. I play with a straw wrapper in my fingers. The door opens, the tiny bell rings. In walks a group of girls, all of whom I recognize and instantly sink lower in my seat. The girls take seats in another booth across the room. One of the girls meets my gaze. She spots me and smiles. I cringe when she stands up.

Shit. I think to myself, grabbing my board.

I stand up attempting to dodge her. She leaves her friends behind and hurries over to me trying to cut me off. Her friends notice she’s going to approach me and stare at me, eyes full of caution. I hurry faster than she can and make it to the door but she calls my name. For a reason unknown my feet stop walking and turn to face her.

“Oh, gracious, Jane! It’s been so long!” She squeaks throwing bones for arms around me.

I flinch and stand still waiting for her to be done touching me.

“Where have you been? It’s been so long. Are you coming back to collage finally? Its been so lonely without you here, Jane. And you have no idea, revision is next week, and, oh my god, you didn’t hear about Professor Jacobs being fired, did you? Apparently, he’d been making passes at students, which, by the way, Mary, you remember Mary, swears he came at her but we all know she’ll say anything to get attention. But she did come out with an A in his class s-”

“Nice to see you to, Marissa,” I cut off her annoying babbling with a lie.

“Oh, Jane. It’s been so long,” she pauses, both of us glancing at her friends who look away, “When, uh...when did you get out?” she asks timidly.

“Six months ago,”

Six months next week. I say in my head.

She shifts awkwardly at the topic, “How was the, uh, the-”

“The asylum? Where the crazies go?” I ask, tilting my head purposely making her uncomfortable.

“Institution.” she says quietly looking down.

“Oh, it was fine,” I nod my head quickly. “Just fine. You know, cooped up in dank rooms all day, force fed capsules for brunch. Yes, it was just a dalliance of a time,” I explain with an arrogant smile, and mocking her thick accent.

She looks back unsteadily at her friends waiting for her. I feel them staring at me. I hear them whispering but I can’t make out what is being said.

“I-I’m sorry, Jane. I didn’t mean-”

Sure, you didn’t. I say in my mind.

“Tell your friends I’m not gonna hurt you. I’ll see you around,” I nod my head at them.

She laughs nervously then goes for another hug. I let her hug me again, as we were close friends from grade two until college, and I feel her breathing in my scent quite loudly.

And I’m the freak.

“I hope you’ll be coming back soon. It’s different without you.”

Yeah. Normal.

“Sure.” I give her a fake smile.

“Hey! You have to pay for that!” a lady behind the counter grabs everyone's attention calling me out.

My cheeks instantly grow hot with panic as I spit a quick ‘take care’ towards Melissa and turn around shoving myself out the door. I hear the lady shouting at me and I see the girls and the family watch me run out the door, enjoying the small scene. I drop the cup in the trash can outside the door. I hurry away from the sandwich shop, glancing through the window at the girls. All of them laughing except for Melissa. I get on my board and skate away, noticing I’m still holding the straw wrapper only now its torn and stressed. In my head I map out a route to visit my favorite tree before dark.

I would inevitably have to go home. The streets are not safe after dark. Currently living with the StepDad and pill abuser Mother on the verge of turning 15, has taken its toll on me. I avoid being home as much as possible. Home is a bullshit place the fates forgot to add happiness to. My life is a pathetic excuse for a functional home. It was once happy, or simple. A regular everyday life. But it changed in a chain of reaction.

In 1955, my brother decided to get himself completely involved in a conspiracy theory trying to prove the citizens of America are oblivious to the stealing, lying, life imprisonment that is the U.S. government. I was on his side. Fully believing that everyone is controlled by the masterminds under the government. In theory, it rules over society as fame, glamour, and providing popularity. In anything anyone does it is manipulated by the caretakers, so that we obey and do as they want without us even considering something so belittling. By 1957, my older brother was the head of the whole operation. The entire sixteen hundred thousand people, that concluded our rebellion as ‘history making’, admired him. I was 7 when my brother was killed in a riot that year, right in front of me. Well, his murder on the streets of America started the riot. The riot that lasted weeks, only to be cut off after many, many more causalities. A victory the government took proudly. I couldn’t understand how. His cause left an impact on the states and was shut down. Sixteen hundred thousand and more, dead. A failed revolution.

Father fell into a drunk depression after the media tore our family name to shreds. Being the cause of a catastrophe that marked the decade and would be put in history books, ruined all thought process for my parents. Father left us. As soon as he left Mother refused to handle the public hate on her own and she moved us both back to her homeland; London. This is where she used her own raging insanity to place on me in the eyes of anyone who looked at me. She was determined to prove her daughter was simply psychotic so her drunk and tainted brain would seem perfectly fine enough to earn her trust and word with very powerful doctors. Her intentions to move medication for money seemed like a goldmine to the doctors she befriended through my suffrage. Those same doctors listened to every word spoken for me and diagnosed me a Hebephrenia Schizophrenic with a bad case of Maladaptive Disorder, at the young age of 8. I suppose those labels were effective because she knew how to trigger my rare panic attacks, ‘uncontrolled’ imagination, unexplained sightings, and constant day dreaming.

I never thought mixing up dreams with reality would land me the fate I got. I never would’ve thought the inability to quit fantasizing would convey me as insane. I learned seeing things that weren’t really there is evidence of insanity. I believed my imagination was stronger than anyone else. What I believed in, was pure madness to the ‘real’ world. What I spent hours on hours playing around with, was considered ‘wrong’. What distracted me from any real world situations was categorized as ‘ill’. And Mother knew a trick. She knew how to make the world see what she wanted it to see, and she used me to do it., triggering any mental breakdown she wanted, for more medication, for more money.

A year before I was 10. I was taken to a testing base. ‘Caring and Healing Facility’ they called it. For over a year they tested and observed on me. My time spent under the microscope as a lab rat is a blurry dream, a fuzzy trance donating holes in my memory and blank spots in my timeline. I will never know exactly what happened in that building they called a home. I was told I had been sedated the entire time to spare me from feeling any physical pain. They released me leaving only glimpses and flashes of what happened. Glimpses of dark scenarios played out in front of me, designed to break down each and every different emotion, one at a time. Flashes of the cold chemicals injected into the IV sticking out of my arm. It is a glitch in my life taking up a year, leaving behind nothing but messy images impossible to place and the sickening reminder of what it feels like to be broken down for recorded results. Returning home after that was like waking up from a fragmented nightmare, with a whole year missing from my life. With all that time I spent being a test subject, too drugged to see color, Mother built her system of moving drugs from hospital to street. But she wasn’t smart enough to stay off the supply herself.

During my release, when I was 11, Mother evolved into her own pill maniac. She took tablets she made herself, a mix of Methaqualone and Adrenaline. A terrible mix that made her violent and angry. Her cool downs were long naps sometimes lasting days. She was a brutal nightmare that taught me how to deal with pain. However, this didn’t last long. A month after my 12th birthday Mother twisted an incident that had occurred a week prior and had me placed in a helping home for ‘enhanced thinkers’. It was her word against mine, and given all her ‘medical friends’ and the facility, which kept me drugged for a year, just contributed to hers completely. When all was said and done, which wasn’t very much, I had a two year sentence at the Institution for Criminally Ill Minors of Bromley. I was flown out of state to be locked up and forgotten about, classified as mentally insane. I lost my name, I lost freedom, my rights. It didn’t matter what they did to us in there. Bromley was a lab. We were the experiments. But unlike the ‘Caring and Helping Facility’ they didn't drug us to spare any pain. I lost humanity.

Bromley was it's own nightmare. In the walls of that 'institution', they were on the same track of the Helping Facility, creating drugs that would break apart emotions, one at a time. Only their drugs were meant to be weapons. The Bromley doctors were on a mission to create the perfect solution that would make the host completely insane, completely helpless. I was lucky to be released when I was, before they could find their solution.

After my two years in Bromley was up I was released back to Croydon as a 14 year old convicted mentally challenged child. I was only two months into being 14 when I was freed. I was sent home to Mother who, while I was gone, had gotten married. Her old habits to numb herself with drugs hadn’t faded but morphed into more modern pills.

I didn’t even notice a change in my mother, in the beginning when my brother died, till it already happened. She turned into a drug infested shell right in front of me. I didn’t notice how downhill life went, one event after the other. I just held on as tight as I could, hoping it would end soon. There is no hope for a world where a mother would abandon her own child for power and a high. Send her daughter to an asylum lab for years only to have her come back to an empty, lonely home, sometimes abusive. Now I always feel lost and forgotten, left behind and hopeless.

In the present, Mother works weeks in the city, with her ‘medical friends’ I am expected to attend college until graduation. Although, I skip school most days, I still get an education. Being on my own everyday on the streets of London, teaches me how to survive by myself. I’m learning how to be strong in a dangerous, careless world. For instance, I know not to be out when the sun sets.

I take a train down to the really old neighborhoods with the large antique houses. It really is a unique block. Skating through the streets I pass multicolored big houses all similar yet detailed differently. I reach the tall black gate at the end of the last block. It’s 15 feet high, on the opposite side is the green field. It’s always open during the day. The sign reads ‘Croydon City Limit Park’ in big black letters. It’s a long walk to the other side of the field that held the thick forest. The forest I don’t ever dare to go in passed the first row of trees, it gets really dark, even in broad day light. I stay close enough to the edge where I can still see the black gates. I trudge though the tall grass holding my board above my head pretending I’m in a jungle of some sorts. A deep jungle covered in mud floors, and bug ridden clouds every few feet. This jungle holds threats so I widen my eyes, looking in all directions cautiously, consistently. Halfway through, my right foot steps into a wet part in the grass. I stop and look down, lifting my foot and spotting the brown wet mud covering my soles and toes.

A river! I shout in excitement in my head.

The mud beneath my feet drops into itself opening into a thick river rushing with cold fresh water. Rocks and pebbles fill the ground under the clear water, covered in green moss that pulls to the harsh flow. I jump over the river, following it with my eyes all the way into the thick forest. I leaped over the rushing river, smiling in victory. When I finally approach the trees I stalk them all the way down to my favorite one and lean my board against the trunk. Grabbing the lowest branch to the ground I jump high and lift myself up onto the branch, gaining footage. I climb the tree fast and I’m at the top in a minute. At the top I stare at the city lights and the long field.

All the lights, all the people. It makes me sad. Every day the same thing. The city is gross, messy, and stinks. It’s awful. Homeless men haunt the streets and harass anyone. Police are corrupt and will plant or say anything if it means they meet their quota. People are rude and selfish. People who have power so easily hurt the ones without a voice. I think a lot about all the messed up things in this world. Murder, cruelty, violence, racism. This world is the screw up, and it burns me inside thinking about it all. Standing on this top branch looking at the city, thinking, it makes me want to leave. Leave this world and never come back. But there is no where else I know. No where I could go. But the wish and the hope to go somewhere else eats at me.

All my thoughts are interrupted by the familiar sense in my nerves. The one that came just before a breakdown of any sort. I hardly get them anymore since I left the asylum. It’s a wave of sadness that washes over me pushing me into one of two states. It could wrap its cold grip around my throat and lungs and suffocate me until I hyperventilate myself into an emotional panic attack. Or it could drown me in images that block out the real world and paralyzes me in a sad state, surrounding me with whatever terrors my brain has blocked out. Both of these attacks almost always ending in a black out. Sometimes I could stop the wave. The feeling that came on before it hit was a warning. Whether it be the scary breathless one or the sad paralyzed one, I sometimes could prevent it.

Like this time. I feel it and I focus on the leaves around me. Counting them to distract myself. Noticing each different vein on each leaf, following the way the branches bend and twist, just pushing the panic attack down, deep, deep down and burying it. When it passes I smile at myself for ditching the emotional breakdown, yet again. During my smile, a slight gust of wind brushes the tree tops, making its way around me.

Nice breeze. I think. Of filthy oil air.

I sigh being reminded that even though I’m free of the asylum, I’m still trapped in a disgusting polluted bubble of a city. I look down at the thick branch I’m perched on and adjust my footing so I can sit. I lean against the tree trunk. I close my eyes listening to my surroundings. From here I don’t here the cars honking, and machines working. All I hear is the breeze through each and every leaf and the bugs in the grass. I hear few birds and fewer animals scampering along the forest floor somewhere near by.

In this tree, in this moment, I can pretend I’m somewhere else. I can just listen and pretend I’m alone in some perfect world, all by myself. I can pretend I’m happy here and enjoying the nature growing around me the harder I imagine it. I don’t know how much time passes but when I open my eyes, nothing’s changed except the sky. Its just beginning turn orange as the sun heads west behind the skyscrapers into the ugly smog. I don’t have much time before I need to go home.

I sit a bit longer watching the sun sink lower bringing dread with each passing inch. When it touches the skyscrapers in the distance and a spider has crept onto my shoulder, I decide it’s time to head home. I brush off the spider then bend down to grab the branch I’m sitting on in my fingers. I slide off aiming my feet for a lower branch but when my shoes touch it, I slip. My shoes hit the branch too hard and I slip right off hitting three branches on my way down, then slamming my head into a thick root sticking out of my twisted tree. The last thing I see is the treetop swaying in the orange sky.

#peter pan fandom #peter pan fanfiction #peter pan fanfic #peterpan x reader #neverland #peter pan #screenwriting #movie plot #tinkerbell #the promised neverland #scriptwriting #screenplay #long reads #scripts #return to neverland #writerscommunity #writeblr #creative writing

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cute-nerdy-metalhead · 1 year

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I want a movie where this super religious girl goes into a new school and is horrified by the sins that are going on in there BUT THEN it doesn't go the "she teaches everyone the way of Jesus" route, quite the opposite, actually. She just learns those people better and... A metalhead is actually a nice person (maybe even volunteering at an animal shelter bc god do metalheads love animals). An alt-looking lesbian is... well, still alt and still lesbian, but what's wrong with that? Y'all know "thou shalt not sleep with a man" part was mistranslated and it was "thou shalt not sleep with a boy", implying pedophilia, right? The party animal getting drunk and hanging out with the guys? Actually had really religious parents and just got a bit out of control when they acquired freedom, but they'll stop themselves, not because it's a sin, but because a friend is really worried about them and asked them to stop. And eventually the religious girl gets in a fight with her parents and realises Christianity is not all that good. But you know what? None of the people in the school encourage her to stop believing. Sure, believe whatever you want, as long as you're not being a bitch about it

#and she might turn out to be lesbian too #because why the hell not #movie idea #movie plot #i just really want this

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daisychainsposts · 2 years

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Imagine a James Bond movie but the Bond girl is asexual

#movie plot #james bond #bond girl

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farmergilesofham · 1 year

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Okay so imagine this: a classic horror setting with all the creepy bells and whistles - a gaggle of twenty-somethings sneak into an abandoned sanatorium, which is said to be haunted, etc. Some creepy shit happens, then a few of them disappear.

Then, the others call the police and the police actually show up, kitted and ready because Most People Don't Prank Call The Police. The bolstered gang goes in, splits up, and so begins the demonic shenaneganery. In one perspective, we get the classic giggling ghouls followed by unsettling and eldritch scrawls on the walls, in blood of indeterminate origin, and The New Guy freaking the hell out, dumping a mag and getting his face eaten. Team A continues warily onward.

Meanwhile Team B seem to be doing alright until suddenly all of them are separated in the blink of an eye, and are slowly pestered by a sultry demonic voice. One of the original twenty-somethings is a closeted gay man in an unloving and emotionally draining relationship with another present lass who only sees him as a tool and/or object. This madam happens to be the one taken at the start of the film.

Entirely incongruously and with no real explanation we are treated to a jarringly tender, earnestly heartfelt lovemaking scene between the TSGay and a Spicy Hot Demon Dude, who gives some good life advice and seems genuinely invested in our Average Wardrobe Fan's development as a self-realising person. This scene is not brought up again until near the end.

Back to Team A, who have entered a hallway full of unsettlingly realistic child-sized porcelain dolls. They don't move or anything, but the framing and the way they're posed makes it seem like they're watching every move. The hallway ends in a door and everyone files swiftly through, but not before we see the head of a doll at the very start of the hall slowly turn towards them. It might have been the wind. It might have.

Team B have managed to get together again, although TSG is clearly distracted by the thought that It Is Quite Possible To Enjoy Being In A Relationship. They set off, and soon come upon some shuffling eldritch darkness with several more limbs than is generally considered decent.

We go to the two captured folks, being the Blizzard HR girl and a no-nonsense nonbinary person named Teb. They're in a dimly candle-lit room, filled with the faint yet persistent drone of someone chanting in an unknown language and the gentle glow of a bloodstained ritual altar balanced haphazardly on top of a comically small bookshelf. Being tied up, the Weinstein House Representative starts getting all 80s horror girl about the situation before Teb knocks over the bookshelf, grabs the bloody knife and cuts them both free. They're still stuck in a doorless and windowless room, but it's a start.

Team A has filed into a larger chamber that seems totally out of place: a large ballroom. Music starts and in twirl two lines of fashionably-dressed dancers, except they're all in varying states of decay and studiously ignoring the living, to the extent of bumping into one of them and literally falling to pieces over it. There seems to be the sound of talking, and indeed the dessicated jaws are moving, but it's all one voice doing different impressions and accents and speaking of things that never really happened. Team A moves on, thoroughly disconcerted.

Team B is having a rather harder time, as the shambling horror turned out to be a great many shamblings horrorific which chase them gloopily down the crumbling halls. The tension is somewhat ruined by the fact this sounds like someone rather vigorously stirring cooked Mac n Cheese.

They finally burst into a room, locking the door behind them and look ahead to see a floating thing made of four eye-covered golden rings, about the diameter of a mid-size sedan, chained to the ceiling and floor. It tries to spin, but the chains halt it jarringly. One of the police guys pulls out a set of bolt cutters which he used to cut open the door to that room when escaping from gloopy mcgloopface. Everyone looks on in stunned silence as he takes to the chains with those bolt cutters, and with an unexpectedly loud "CRACK!" the chain breaks. One ring can now spin, and the force of the Ring Thing trying to speak makes half of Team B's ears bleed, including Bolt Cutter Boy. He moves onto the next chain, and the floaty blacksmith's puzzle glows brilliantly the moment chain no. 2 breaks.

We return to the not-so-dynamic duo, as Teb paces back and forth, stopping to try and scrub the summoning circles off the walls with the knife, which unfortunately happens to be both rusty and slick with blood. Meanwhile, Little Miss Independent flips through a book that fell off the lectern and reads that sacrifices are to consist of one woman and one Untethered at 12:00 midnight, sharp, or else the demons get annoyed and might threaten to call the manager. It is approaching 10:30 pm, according to a wall-mounted clock, and Princess Beetch gets a funny look in her eye. With unassuming casualness she saunters over to Teb, and in but a short moment tries to put the moves on them, reasoning that they might as well enjoy the few hours they have left, and that clearly all this about being NB must mean they're just packing some serious heat and don't want to be bothered about it. This approach has about the results you'd expect - Teb is extremely insulted and in no small measure disgusted by the utter shamelessness of the suggestion, and goes back to walking about the edges of the walls and trying to glean some extra knowledge from them. Madame Too Bold briefly tries again, but after a withering glare just sulks instead, flipping through selfies on her phone.

Team A now enters what might have been the foyer, except it's now full of vaguely mumbling and badly scarred cultists, who take one look at the team and start chanting all manner of creepy shit in unison, which doesn't seem to have any effect until two members of Team A train their weapons on the rest, and stand looking quite blissful as several cultists start taking whole bites out of their flesh. The rest of the gang backs away as best they can, and look on in horror.

Team B's Cutter Of The Bolts works hard on the 6th, second to last, chain while the incomprehensible voice of the Creature seems to oscillate back and forth through time, and side to side in space besides. This chain cracks like a whip, scoring deeply the skin of Cut Your Chains Into Pieces, This Is My First Resort. The final chain shatters with a sound like a thunderclap, and the Ezekielian Angel rises into the air, its rings spinning properly now as an incomprehensible language echoes throughout the room; [[FEAR THIS NOT. BEAR WITNESS.]]

A swathe of the seals in the windowless box vanish, or rather just stop glowing, and amongst them resolves the shape of a door, through which the Hag Tag Team dashes, with only the sacrificial dagger for protection.

Team A is moments from being fed on by cannibalistic hoodwinkers, when through the floor bursts the Messenger of Jod, singing His praises in biblical Hebraic and banishing the darkness from the room, including the souls of the cultists, whose bodies flop suddenly to the ground and stay there (for once). The angel then says something that might have been construed in the 2nd century as reassuring and flies through the ceiling, leaving a perfect hole right out into the open sky.

Unfortunately not all the cultists get taken out by the Grace And The Might Of The Lord, as the Perturbed Pair find on sprinting headlong into the cult break room. Sex And The Shitty immediately breaks down and gives up, but Teb goes down swinging, cutting two cultists and giving a third a black eye so bad that his whole face swells up. It takes half a dozen of the rest to restrain Them, this time with significantly more rope and an actual padlock. The glyphs in the box room are a botch job at this point, but hey, what can ya do.

It is here that Team B finally meets up with A again, having communicated quite effectively through The Hole. Off the Gang traipses to find the Lost ChillThem, and the tension rises and rises as the time ticks down to midnight, the first peal of the clock bells ringing out as the knife plunges down, only to be very heroically shot out of the cultist's hand. Along with the hand itself. And the wrist, and a good bit of their arm, as this particular bit of surgery is performed by an 8-gauge shotgun blasting the door's deadbolt clean through about an inch and a half of hardwood, 6-odd feet of air and 123cc of human(?) flesh. In bursts the Gang, finally making a regular-ish arrest and saving if not the day then at least its penultimate fifteen seconds.

Here we get the classic "Oh, you saved me!", followed by a passionate kiss that quickly stops as Homoenlightened Sapiens pulls away and firmly states they're quite done, steps back, and leaves the room. Everyone including the Cat Out Of Hell is dumbfounded, and only properly touch base once outside the building. Or at least they try to, but the sanatorium is suddenly bathed in Holy light and is burned away with extreme prejudice, leaving only a hole where the foundations used to be. The players part ways, and the film ends.

We get a post-credits scene where Mr Self-Discovery is eating a sandwich with another guy, and though it's only seen through the window and so not heard, he looks to be enjoying himself very much.

#horror #oc character #ideas #movie plot

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