Can Broadway please come up with fully original shows? I swear every other new show is "___ the musical" and I'm sick of it. In a lot of cases these are movies that absolutely did not need to become plays. It's the media form that works best for the story being told - nobody is asking for these to me made into musicals. Come up with original stories made for the theater, that fit the songs and acting styles because musicals can be good when they're not trying to force a new medium on pre-existing stories.
Been obsessed with the lost boys for like 3 months and I still haven't drawn paul, sorry paul fans the reason why is because I can't seem to draw brooke Mccarter pls forgive me </3
Paul and Marko - dreaded hair washing day. Marko is curly, needs special shampoo, and Paul......Paul uses about three cans of hair spray a night to keep that stuff fluffy. Looks like a wet afghan hound when bathing
How to Convince Your Boyfriend it's Time to Take a Shower: A Comprehensive Guide by Marko
he's suppoed to be holding a garden hose i just got kinda lazy when drawing it lol
had to look up afghan hounds for this and.. you're so right LMAO
imo marko spends the most time on his hair outta all of the guys - he's really proud of it and spends an almost unreasonable amount of time washing, brushing and styling it xd
in amount of effort they put into their hair I'd go marko > paul = david > dwayne (dwayne's one of those 4-1 soap-shampoo-conditioner-carwash guys)
ik i didn't really do like one super put together piece for this ask, hope thats okay :P i was just having too many Thoughts (tm) about the boys and their hair
paul headshot from the meme on its own under the cut
i imagine marko literally being right next time him while doing that (probs helping him bake the cookie… god forbid paul be in the kitchen by himself.)
also side note: next time I draw paul I’m for sure doing a diff shade of blonde 😞 something abt it isn’t sitting right with me ughhhhhhhhhhhhhgagagahahsgeheuyegesjjxn hrkssonw😡🤬👎👎👎👎👎
If I had a nickel for every movie I’ve seen that contained a scene of Jami Gertz kissing Jason Patric in a cave to keep him from having a complete thought, I’d have two nickels…
With the new prompt list, how about number 7 with Paul being the lovable dumbass he is lol
7. “Hit me” “What?”
Yesss, this is absolutely a lovable dumbass Paul fic. Also, I believe this is the first time I’ve gotten 2 requests for the same prompt and the same character! I hope you and @santa-carla-juicebox both enjoy it!
Includes: gn reader, smoking weed, suggestiveness, Paul’s like fs a tiny bit of a masochist
“Hit me”
“What?”
“Cmon, I wanna test it- hit me!”
The “it” in question was your brand new undead strength, courtesy of Paul himself.
“Absolutely not”
The rest of the boys had been celebrating your turning when Paul decided to recall his first night of vampire-dom, telling a story about accidentally shoving Marko straight into a wall by accident. Realizing you could do the same now, he got the idea to volunteer for some experimentation.
“I’ll do it if you won’t!”
Marko had gotten his revenge for that night many times over the years, but god knows he was always willing to do it again.
“No, you will not! No one is hitting Paul”
His face changed from his big eager eyed smile to the classic smirk at he tilted his head at you.
“Awww, baby- you scared of hurting me? I can take it, promise!”
You sighed, crossing your arms. You really couldn’t get why he even wanted to test it anyway. Didn’t all of them test it on each other by accident already?
“But why? You already have the strength yourself, right?”
Paul shrugged.
“Yeah, but I’m curious. I wanna know what it feels like, y’know?”
Paul, being the youngest, had never been on the receiving end of the infamous newly turned strength. Plus, if he was being honest, he found the idea of you being that strong incredibly sexy.
You bit your cheek for a moment, thinking of a way to satisfy his curiosity without possibly breaking his immortal bones.
“Isn’t there some other way to test this? Like hitting something that isn’t my boyfriend?”
The group laughed, Dwayne taking a drag from the joint they were passing around before interjecting.
“None that would be as entertaining”
Paul snatched the spliff, taking a much longer hit before handing it to Marko and walking up to you.
“He’s right! Just pretend you’re pissed at me or something, and do your worst!”
He pumped his fist, turning his head away from you to exhale the smoke.
You really weren’t getting out of this, it seemed.
“… okay, fine! But if you get hurt, I’m gonna feel like shit, and it will be all of your faults!”
They all shrugged and nodded, Paul getting into prime “ready to be bludgeoned” stance as David walked closer for a better view.
“Paul gets hurt for fun. He’ll take whatever new found strength you’ve mustered up, and come back for more.”
Paul nodded enthusiastically. It made you feel worse honestly, seeing that cute ass smile on his face. Unfortunately, he was supremely good at getting what he wanted, and for some reason, tonight that meant your hand across his face. You took a deep breath. He was good at pissing you off too, you could use that. You summoned every petty grievance you could remember, and prepared.
“You sure you’re ready?”
“Bring it on hot stuff”
With one last blink, you reeled back your hand and let it rip. Your hand made solid, sharp contact with the side of Paul’s cheek, sending him back and on onto his ass several feet away. Silence fell for a moment.
Then, laughter.
The guys didn’t like seeing Paul hurt, not seriously, but him fucking around and finding out every once in a while was something they could all drink to. Especially with you having done it.
Paul slowly sat up on the ground, dizzily bringing up a hand to his sore cheek. You must’ve caught him with your claws too, his fingers stained with blood when as pulled them away. You gasped, rushing over and crouching by his side.
“Holy shit, are you alright?? I told you this was a bad idea-”
He cocked a brow, looking from his red fingers back to you.
“I’m bleeding”
Your face creased with worry as you looked at the scratch mark over his cheek. You felt a roiling guilt in your stomach.
“I know! I know, I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful, I’m so fucking sorry Paul-”
He stared at you for a single, deafeningly silent moment.
Before you knew it, his now-smiling lips collided with yours messily, a noise of surprise catching in your throat. When he pulled away he was grinning, a laugh ripping through him.
“Damn, babe! You laid me out- that was fucking hot!”
He hastily went in for another kiss, the rest of the guys jeering and whistling before losing interest and continuing about their own celebration. You pulled away this time, much to his disappointment, looking at him with a mix of worry and amusement.
“Really?! I thought I really did some damage, you looked like you were on another planet”
Paul nodded happily, remaining seated on the floor and pulling you onto his lap.
“Oh I was, might still be honestly. Feels good.”
You stared at him in utter disbelief. You knew as a vampire himself he couldn’t stay hurt, you wouldn’t have done it otherwise, but really? You’d absolutely clocked him in the face, no holds barred, and he liked it?
“You are a real freak, Paulie”
He winked at you, his tongue darting out to lick the trickling of blood off his lips.
“Uhhhh huh- and you love it”
He laid back on the ground, pulling you back on top of him and into another kiss.
Once you tasted him, you really couldn’t feel too bad for drawing blood.
Quote from: The Fog, 1980.
Story involving: female reader, Paul.
Being back in Santa Carla feels strange. It's a good kind of strange. The kind of strange that feels right. You're not even in Santa Carla proper, you're not in the center of town, you're not near the boardwalk or anywhere you grew up. You're literally on the very outskirts. Not at all close to the comforting house you're walking towards.
That's your own fault, though. If you'd actually saved up enough before deciding to pick up sticks and come home, you'd have had enough cash to at least get a bus ticket. But it's OK. There's always work on the boardwalk and Grandpa was elated you were coming back, happily told you your old room was waiting, got offended when you said you'd pay him.
You look at your watch, sling your bag over your shoulder and get to walking.
Since deciding to come home you've been in good spirits. Maybe it was a bit crazy, a bit slapdash and rushed but it felt right. So even though the sun has set and you're trudging along a disappointingly empty street, you're not upset. With your walkman, you're pretty content. The air is fresh, the night is cool and you've got some good music. You're home, you're where you're meant to be.
Life is good.
You're sure it's just going to get better.
Not too long into your walk the road is illuminated but the beam is too narrow to be a car. Taking your headphones off and leaving them around your neck, you look behind you, hearing the unmistakable rumble of a motorbike. The rider passes you, slows and circles back. You stop walking and stand on the edge of the sidewalk.
"Hitching?"
"No"
That's a lie. You've hitched most of your way here. You're pretty impressed with yourself, truth be told.
The guy on the bike - handsome with wild hair and a good jaw - smiles widely. He's dressed like a rock star and he has all the confidence to match.
"Runaway?"
"No"
That's not a lie. You have a family and a home waiting for you. Maybe you're being slightly irresponsible but you're stable and safe. Besides, it's summer. The perfect time to take a chance on a fresh start and new adventure. You're leaving behind no skeletons, no drama.
"Sure?"
"Positive"
"This is a very mono-syllabic conversation we're having"
"It was..."
"Shit, I always fuck shit up"
You laugh.
What a weirdo. You like weirdos.
"Where're you headed?" he asks, "I can give you a ride"
You look at his bike. You don't think your bag would throw you off balance or anything, but if he turned out to be a psycho killer you'd scrape the shit off your skin throwing yourself off it. He's pretty charming, though. There's something about him that's just compelling. It's strange. A good strange, sure, but definitely odd.
Lots of good strange in the air, it seemed.
"Are you a psycho killer?" you ask him.
"Yes" he says with a nod and a shrug, "but you're safe with me"
"That's comforting"
"I'm Paul"
You look at him, introduce yourself.
"You live here?" you ask him.
"Eh. Most of my life" he says with a nod and a shrug.
"Me, too" you tell him, "or I used to, anyway"
"You escaped?"
"Yup. And chose to come back"
"Why?"
"Dunno" you tell him, "just felt like coming home"
"Badass"
"Do you often offer rides to girls walking alone at night?"
"No, I kill 'em. Remember? Psycho killer. I only stopped because..."
"...because...?"
"Huh" he says with a grin and a smile, "guess you just struck me"
"Wow. That's a line"
He laughs again.
"C'mon. Where are you headed?"
"My grandpa's ranch" you tell him.
It's not really a ranch in the traditional sense but it's a huge expanse of land with wild fields, horses and other animals grazing. It felt like a ranch to you, growing up it had felt like the most magical place in the whole wide world. You're excited to go back.
"Happy to escort a lady"
Oh, he's charming.
This is dangerous.
But he's cute and handsome and flirty...
...you hum.
"It's kind of up in the sticks"
"Yeah? I like the sticks"
"Country roads"
"Fun to drive through"
"Lots of trees"
"Nature's shade"
"It's night?"
"Nature's...perfume?"
You smother your confused laugh.
You keep the game going.
"Well...Ok. Listen, I never hitchhiked before. I just really want to be careful. Can I ask you something?"
"Sure"
"Are you weird?"
"Yes, I am. Yes, I am weird"
"You are weird. Thank God you're weird. The last one was so normal, it was disgusting"
He offers his hand.
"Pass me the bag. I'll show you how weird I am"
You smile. What even is this conversation?
"Sounds like a plan"
He slings your duffle over his thighs and helps you ease yourself on to his bike.
You laugh a little, unsure.
"I've never been on a bike before" you tell him honestly, the first frank thing you've said to him.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah"
"Hold on tight" he says, "that's all you gotta do. Hold on tight and enjoy the ride"
You wrap your arms around his waist.
"Don't be shy"
You grip him.
"Atta girl" he says.
He revs his bike.
"Just so you know" you say in his ear, kind of liking the way he tilts his head back and to the side to better hear you, "I called my grandpa, he's expecting me"
"So don't think about killing you and chopping you up into little pieces?"
"Exactly"
"Gotta think of something else we can do" he says, revving the bike again.
You think that's a good idea.
Maybe the two of you can be weird together tomorrow night?
"You good?" he asks.
"I think so"
"You ready?"
"I think so?"
You're not worried about him. You feel very comfortable around this stranger named Paul. Right now your biggest worry is this bike ride.
He laughs, as if he knows.
"Let's go"
And then, you're off.
Half screaming, half laughing. Your first experience on a motorbike is anything but sedate. He drives like a maniac, like a world-class racer. It's exhilarating. You don't realize it now, but he's the reason Santa Carla had been calling to you again.
Poltergeist (1982) dir. Tobe Hooper
Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer (1986) dir. John McNaughton
Final Destination (2000) dir. James Wong
The Lost Boys (1987) dir. Joel Schumacher
The Witch (2015) dir. Robert Eggers
The Hills Have Eyes (1977) dir. Wes Craven
Talk to Me (2022) dir. Michael Philippou, Danny Philippou
The Cell (2000) dir. Tarsem Singh
gummygunk
jbbartram-illu
theartofmadeline
2087
dededos
yousharknotpass
