#lucy emerson

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Nothing. And I mean NOTHING. Can ever out hot the carousel scene from The Lost Boys

[gayassmullethaircut]

mf really thought she was about to help him raise the hex girls ✋

[brat-pack-it-up-boys]

It’s the time of year I post this image again

(Anytime I rewatch the movie)

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

It's Just a Movie - The Sequel: Part 16 (The Lost Boys x Fem!Reader)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: blood pack drinking, cursing, descriptions of violence, mostly exposition, also lol hi everyone

Word Count: 2.2k

As the early light filtered through the Emerson house, you could hear the water shut off in the bathroom. Even rooms away, you could hear Star’s radio. ‘Mony Mony’ played loud enough for her to hear over the shower, and you could hear her footsteps padding across the tile as she stepped out. Despite all her collected tapes, she still listened to the top 100 stations whenever she was in a rush. Quickly, you tried to think of anything except Billy Idol and who he reminded you of.

You didn’t have to focus anymore to hear the kitchen below. Lucy hummed to herself as she unloaded the dishes from the dishwasher, and you could hear Grandpa’s morning conversation with his daughter and her soft chirps back at his quips. Laddie was still sleeping, and you could hear his even breathing. He slept the latest, the young boy getting the most slack out of everyone in the house. In a few moments, Lucy would check the time and then call above to get everyone moving. C’mon everyone! The bus doesn’t wait for lazy-bones! Michael was in his room, and you could hear him counting his pushups. Hear the quick beating of his heart. Sam was shuffling around his room after finally giving up on slapping his relentless alarm clock's snooze button. Nanook whined, and you could hear that Sam was asking him about the better between two shirts.

Your breathing was even as you hovered in your room. Your eyes were closed, your legs were criss-crossed, and your thirst was a dull tickle in your throat. The sore throat that never subsided. You had made that joke to Lucy once in the past few weeks, and the face she made was enough for you to not make it again.

Weeks. The thought made you falter in the air. Your legs were quick to catch you, so quick that any of the humans would’ve thought you’d meant to get down. Weeks on vampire blood, on sleepless nights and drowsy days, and on attempting to choke down whatever Lucy tried to feed you. Weeks since you’d talked to them. Really talked to them. You didn’t count their attempts to catch you on the boardwalk. And, weeks of nothing. No big battles, no identifiable movie scenes, no hunters. Nothing.

You flitted across your room and grabbed your shades. You slipped them on as you felt the sun start to pour through your window. Blinds and dark curtains could only do so much. Every inch the sun rose was more weight on your tired mind. But, Lucy didn’t like to see you sleep through your days, and it was easier to just make the daily appearance at breakfast rather than have her concern keep you up past lunch.

You were sluggish as you left your room. Sam ran up to you as soon as his door closed, and you knew he’d probably been waiting for the sound of your door to open. He was more hyper than Nanook, rattling off so quickly that you couldn’t even begin to process. Your brain was shutting off, even if your body trudged down the hall like a zombie.

The quickest way to shut him up was to ruffle his neatly combed hair, and to gently push him out of the way as you went for the stairs. Finally, your brain caught up with his mouth.

“C’mon, you promised to take me! Michael’s going out with Star and mom doesn’t want me on the boardwalk anymore, and I don’t wanna be stuck with Grandpa on a Friday night-” Friday. Was it Friday already? The weekdays seemed to go by in a blur. You couldn’t remember this promise Sam was clinging to, but you didn’t doubt that he’d probably weaseled it in when the sun was high and you were agreeing to anything he said as long as he left you alone to sleep.

“Hey. Tell me how you really feel, Sammy.” Grandpa said from the kitchen, sporting his usual bathrobe and shades. At least you weren’t the only one affected by the sun in this house. You sighed as you walked towards the table, Sam following at your heels.

“Sammy, you know I can’t.” You said. Weekends were for one thing. He was quick to whine, and you were quicker to shut him up with a simple. “I have plans.” You said, and he knew that you did. Your routine had become almost suffocatingly strict.

“But, even you said so yourself, you’re not making any progress, so,” You knew where he was going with this, and, luckily, you didn’t have to be the one to tell him to shut up.

“Sam.” Lucy said. She was putting plates of eggs and toast on the table. The stereotypical movie breakfast. You would’ve brightened at the sight if you had any appetite.

The argument lost your focus as you heard the three sets of footsteps down the stairs. You closed your eyes for a moment, bracing yourself for another tense morning.

Star had barely spoken to you since that day, and, despite your best attempts to not take offense, it was starting to get ridiculous. She kept Laddie tight next to her most days, and decided to firmly distrust vampires, half-vampires, and vampire hunters alike. So, out of everyone she knew, that left three. Michael, Lucy, and Laddie.

You couldn’t entirely blame her either. Michael was less prejudiced, and he, at least, greeted you in the morning.

“Hey, what’s goin’ on?” He said as he headed for the table. Star barely threw you a glance as she glided to her seat, and Laddie wiped his eyes as he followed her. He gave you a weak, sleepy hello, and you returned it.

“Sam is begging me to take him to a movie.” You said, and this piqued Laddie’s interest. He looked to Sam, his long brown hair flipping as he did.

“Movie?” He asked, and Sam quickly sighed. From that, you guessed this wasn’t something Lucy would let Laddie see. Which also potentially meant this wasn’t something Lucy would let Sam see. Now, you were seeing how you fit into this plan.

“Me and the Frogs.” Sam quickly said, and Michael let out a knowing sound. The sound of a brother who had already dodged this bullet earlier in the week.

“Well, Sam, you don’t need anyone to take you to the movies. You can go with your friends.” Lucy said, oblivious as to why Michael or you would be needed. Sam grimaced, and you could tell he already regretted bringing it up in front of Lucy. Sam could fight vampires, but he still couldn’t go see a R-rated movie.

“Well, you see, Mom…I need one of them to buy my ticket.” He started, eyes on his plate as he scraped his fork against it. You shot him a look, but he missed it. He was better off just dropping it while he was ahead, but he didn’t seem to realize that yet.

“You didn’t spend your allowance already, did you?” Lucy exclaimed, but Sam was quick to interrupt.

“No! No. It’s just,” He picked up his orange juice, visibly debating if he should even tell her the truth. It was like watching a car crash. Suddenly, you wished you could help the kid out. You shot a look at Michael, and this brother caught it. He frowned over his eggs.

Your plans were non-negotiable, his were not. He sighed.

“I’ll take you tomorrow. How ‘bout that, Sam?” Michael quickly interjected. There, everyone’s happy. You thought. But, when your eyes made the mistake of landing on Star, you knew that couldn't be true. Star gave you a hard look. It wasn't quite mean or mad, but it definitely wasn't happy. You knew this look. It was her, This is your fault look. And, you could only think, For what this time?

That wasn't the point. She can't go out? Your fault. She and Michael can't take the car? Your fault. A glass breaks, weather changes, water won't get hot. Somehow, always, your fault.

Frankly, you were getting tired of it, and maybe it was the morning, maybe it was weeks of a pain that never ended, or maybe it was just the fact that you were plain pissed off by it. Whatever the reason, your eyes flashed yellow behind your shades.

It was strange how you could feel it. Never before in your life could you change something about your body that was an actual bodily function, and you never imagined being able to feel it the more it happened. You were quick to rub your eyes with your hands, willing them to go away, willing the flood of thoughts about blood and violence away, willing the waves of anger to subside. But, the tides only rose, and you pushed yourself away from the table with a shriek of the chair. Nanooks whine accompanied your footsteps, and that got everyone's attention, if your abrupt exit of the table didn't.

“You okay, honey?” Lucy asked, and you didn't answer as you practically threw the refrigerator door open. You grabbed one of the blood bags from the covered slot where the butter used to be. It made you laugh the first time you saw it. You'd quipped, What? Grandpa gets a shelf and I don't? You couldn't think of what his reply had been as you ripped off the top.

You didn't like to drink in front of the Emerson's, but you weren't thinking about that right now.

You chugged it fast, and, in your head, you imagined some angle in the film. The horrifying sight of the family appearing through the quickly emptying bag of plastic. It was gone in, maybe, ten seconds. Your brain quickly rattled off the Frogs voices, About half a liter in each bag and there's only five in the human body. Ten of these, that's what those assholes drink. Those were the words in your mind as you reached for the next one, but you stopped yourself.

Relief. Peace. Calm. It was instant, and your movements weren't so fast this time. They slowed to almost human pace, and you felt like you could breathe again. The rage pulled back like a wave, leaving the shores of your mind for now. Your eyes faded back to normal.

You closed the fridge.

When you looked at the Emerson's, they were all staring at you. Time caught up with you, and you remembered that Lucy had asked you a question. Everything had happened so fast, and now you were the one dragging.

“Yeah, just thirsty.” You said, and you let out a burp by accident. Sam made a face of disgust, always being the most prudish, and Laddie laughed. The elder members of the family didn't seem to find things as funny. Michael frowned, and said,

“You got something..” His voice was soft, as he gestured to the corner of his own mouth. You were quick to wipe at yours, and, sure enough, you wiped red, sticky blood off your face. Shit. You thought, and you turned away while you got the rest. When you pulled your hand away, you noticed your nails were still long. Your claws. Shit. You hid your hands in your pockets when you turned back to them.

You gulped. Everyone was still staring at you, even if Lucy, Laddie, and Sam were politely trying to eat to make it look like they weren't. You walked back to the table, trying with all your might to be normal. To be human. But, you had blended your human and vampire side more and more with each passing day, and it seemed now it was getting to a point where you couldn't hide it from yourself any longer. Hell, you couldn't hide it from the Emerson's either. They saw it. They all saw it.

The silence was stretching on too long, and there was only one thing you could think to say to finally kill it.

“I'll take Sam and the Frogs.” You said, your hands gripping the back of your chair. Sam was the first to spark at those words, but your eyes went to Stars. It was a peace offering. Not that she knew for what. It was your own apology for imagining ripping her throat out and drinking her dry at the table. She stared, and, in Stars way, she accepted it. She silently turned back to her plate and drank her orange juice. Relief hit you again, but it was nothing close to the first wave. You interrupted Sam's instant ramble with, “It'll make me feel better if he's with me, and… he's right. I haven't made any progress with the coven.” You admitted the last part with a sigh. Taking the bullet from Grandpa over your failure or Sam telling his mom he wanted to see an R-Rated movie, which was worse?

He eyed you, silent for a moment. You both ignored Sam's cheers and him running away from the table to get ready. You couldn't hear his thoughts, but you could read his eyes. Failure to get information was failure to move things along, and Grandpa didn't want these vampires in his town. You didn't want those hunters here either, and neither party would leave until we found out what was going on. Sense told you to stick with your lead. The coven wouldn't drop a bomb on your lap and then leave you with it to switch to driving around town forever. But, if you dug into the back of your mind, into where memories of early summer… You felt something. A pull. Telling you the movies were exactly where you needed to be.

He chewed, clamping his lips together with a slap before he switched to his own mask. He cut into his eggs as he said,

“I suppose you'll be asking for my car, heh?"

[queenlakiefer]

Imagine if Lucy was married to Max and being the caring mother, she asks if Max has sent The Lost Boys money…

Lucy: Max, dear. Did you send the boys their allowance?

Max: Yes dear. I sent it in a letter in the form of a haiku:

“Enclosed is check.

You bleed me dry, stop it.”

[whoa-axel-chill]

more tlb headcanons because my head is screaming at my fingers to type them

-Edgar, along with having the infinite amount of allergies mentioned in my last post, has a terrible immune system, like bro is sick almost every other week.

-Michael died once. When he was like 9 he hit his head on a railing and died for about a minute. For a few months after, Sam would drag him away from that spot if he ever saw him go near it, and even when he got older and almost completely forgot about the whole thing he still felt uneasy around it.

-Unlike Edgar, Alan only gets sick every year or so, and when he does, he feels like death and can't get up for like a week, it's really bad.

-The squad (or whatever you guys call them I'm more active with AMB content so I'm not familiar with group terms) are pretty much flat broke. Any and all money they have they either find or take off the people they kill, and even if they kill some random rich person, it's really not a lot.

-A more angsty one now, the Frog parents sometimes just forget they have sons. Like they recognize them but they're so whatever they even are they just can't find it in their brain what their relationship is to them.

-The Frogs' comic store is one of the few businesses on the boardwalk that lets girlscouts sell cookies outside. One; they really don't know how they would go about NOT letting them and two; cute little girls + cookies + outside their store = more business probably.

-Stole this from a fic I read a while back on AO3, Sam has a very specific schedule but only in some aspects of his routine, like breakfast time or going for a walk down the street. If he misses the time he's supposed to do these things, he just won't do them.

-Along with having many, many 'pet' pigeons, Marko also has a lot of rats, he has names for all of both species.

-Lucy is very mom-like (idk how to describe it) specifically with Sam which embarrasses him and he thinks the Frogs judge him for it, but in reality that's just how their faces look and they're actually jealous.

-Alan is kind of like a cat?? He only warms up to certain people, he hates being wet, he's easily distracted (like if you pulled out a laser pointer he might become subtly very interested in it), he'll either be very happy with being touched or very annoyed with no indication of which outcome will happen, etc.

-For the sake of any Michael-vampire relationships not being really weird, all of them were either turned recently OR as well as not aging physically, they don't age mentally either, however that would work.

-Despite the fear of blood thing, Sam's favorite thing to have on in the backround when he's doing something are cop shows. Most every episode there's a new plot, so you can follow while also not really following I'm not projecting you are.

-Nobody knows where grandpa Emerson gets half of the things he uses for taxidermy. He gave a taxidermy dog to the Widow Johnson. A dog. We don't talk about that enough, like, pause, am I the only one that noticed that? That was a dog, right?? Am I crazy????

-The Frog brothers are both pretty decent artists.

-Sam is into a lot of kind of dorky stuff and Edgar actually pretends to be interested for him.

-Edgar and Alan both have various scars on their hands from sharpening stakes or stuff like that.

-Sam has been 'banned' from the comic store, like, 16 times for various things, a few you might be surprised by.

-Even when not, like, crazy vampire mode thing, Marko has weirdly sharp teeth. You can't notice it when looking at him, but he does bite people just for fun and they do feel it.

[topherbudlight]

do you guys like my photoshopping skills...

yes it's bad on purpose.

[heeheehoohoo8]

Lucy: If your friends jumped off a bridge would you?

Michael: …

The night before:

[whatisgoingonpaul]

Really sad with the way Max has been misinterpreted for forever really…. Like yall really saw this dorky video shop owner and were like “evil” the older I get the more I understand him and he’s actually so funny it makes it even sadder how the fandom interprets him.

He’s trying to turn Lucy the good old fashioned charmer way. He’s taking her on nice dates and slowly trying to broach the topic - playing the long game etc.

But you see— his boys, who have decided they’re a gang about 30 years ago and who he couldn’t control for 70 said noooooo and just had to terrorize her son and try to go about it too fast.

He’s not even particularly mad by the end he’s just

“Damn I forgot they get like this… my bad looks like we’re going to have to go the traumatic route, whoopsies✨✨”

[gayassmullethaircut]

they knew and were like 🤨🏳️‍🌈🫵?

[brat-pack-it-up-boys]

Day 547 of manifesting a massive influx of lost boys fans/fandom resurrection for when the musical opens

[williamprattz]

The Lost Boys Deleted Scenes

↳ scene one

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

It's Just a Movie - The Sequel: Part 17 (The Lost Boys x Fem!Reader)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing, no Boyz, we are in the exposition era

“See ya, man!” Sam called to some of his classmates as he mounted his bike.

It was sky blue with white wheels, and his pride and joy. It'd been a surprise, gifted to him after their family's sudden financial change with Max's inheritance. Well, Sam was a little fuzzy on the details, but, however it happened, Video Max had almost made the entire vampire fiasco worth it. The radio had been a gift from his brother. It was a little Ricatech radio that played cassettes too, not that he had many. Michael and Star borrowed it half the time, and he left it on the classics station Michael had turned it to. ‘Spooky’ by the Classics IV filled the air as he dodged pedestrians.

He sped through the streets of Santa Carla, passing punks, hippies, and regular beach bums alike. Santa Carla was the kind of place where he could wear whatever he wanted and still not be the weirdest person on the street. He even considered getting a face piercing, but he knew the Frogs wouldn't ever let him walk around a day with it. But, today wasn't just a day with the Frogs.

Today was a day with you.

He remembered the first time he'd ever met you at the comic book store. He couldn't have known it then, but you'd been listening in on their conversation, browsing over the comics like you were too cool for the three of them. Truthfully, he thought you were.

The first thing you'd said to him, Don't listen to the Frogs. It'd struck his mind. Of course he wouldn't, he'd wanted to say. A couple of crack pot army wannabes were preaching about vampires? Yeah, reliable source. He'd tried to think of something to say back, but you were walking out before he'd even had a chance. You were the first not-freakazoid person he'd ever met in Santa Carla, and you'd totally ditched him. It only made you cooler, if he was honest.

He was musing now, missing the days when it felt like you were vampire hunters together. Even if he knew he could never say that aloud with the truce.

It was just that- They'd gotten you back, but it wasn't like he ever got to see you. You slept through the days, went out at night, and the only time he actually got to talk to you was when you were half asleep over your eggs. It was better when the boys were around, honestly. At least then you'd talk to him while at home.

But, lately, you'd been different. Quieter. Secretive. Or, maybe, you weren't different at all.

You did lie to them about everything last summer, but he never held a grudge. You'd had to. Life and death, and all that. It was just that, now, it felt like the only one that got a report was Grandpa. Part of him knew why. To protect him, he mocked in his head. Well, screw that. If what Marko said was true, I don't need protection. He thought to himself. He didn't realize how dangerous of a thought that was.

His bike led him through the bends of each street, biking down High Street all the way to downtown. While he’d usually turn off onto Coolidge to get home from the highschool, Sam decided to make a pit stop in the downtown area. He passed record stores, bookstores, and a club where the old bowling alley apparently used to be. He dropped his bike outside the local church, and hopped the steps two at a time. When inside, he nodded at the nun in the far corner. He didn't catch her rolling her eyes as he dipped a bottle into the holy water.

It was a small spray cologne bottle, something he'd swiped from his Grandpa's bathroom. While he couldn't say anything with the current truce, that didn't mean he had to be unprepared.

Once it was full, he screwed on the top and gave the nun a quick after-thought of a wave and then clasped hands at her. She didn't seem very impressed.

He biked back to grandfather's house standing up on the pedals, racing through the streets as his backpack swayed with him. His leg muscles strained as he tried to get himself up the long drive way, and eventually he hopped off the bike to run it the rest of the way. He practically bulldozed the screen door down, dodging his Mom's cries about not slamming it to run straight up to your room. At the sound of his steps retreating towards the stairs, his mom called,

“Sam!” But he didn't care. This was his night with you, and he wanted to hang out with you before the Frogs had a chance to come over. But, he was caught by the handle of his bag just as his hand grabbed the bannister, and he was yanked back by his one and only older brother.

“Mike!” Sam whined, but Michael beat him to his ramble of complaints.

“You want your head bitten off? C'mon, man. See what Mom wants.” And Sam groaned as he turned on his heel. Michael knew exactly where he'd been headed, and he trudged towards the kitchen instead. He put his bag and radio down on the table, and Laddie smiled at him up through his bangs and over his plate of peanut butter apple slices.

“Yes, mom?” He said, trying and failing to keep the attitude out of his voice. He let his backpack slip off his shoulders and into the chair.

“Now, Sam, I made you dinner to eat before you go out because I don't want you filling up on junk,” She was a whirl through the kitchen as she pulled the dinner out of the fridge and set it on the counter. “And, I'll be at the store all night, so, if you need me, you'll have to call there. The number’s on the table.” She said, gesturing towards the piece of paper.

“I know the number to the store, Mom.” Sams voice was snippety as he responded, but his mother didn't even seem to notice. He picked it up anyways, thinking of you as he pocketed it. You were bad when it came to memorizing numbers.

“I already told her that I want you boys back by eleven, and that I really don't want you boys on the boardwalk, so please, Sam, don't give her a hard time. There's cash on the table for popcorn,” She was rambling, but it wasn't Sam that cut her off this time.

“And, stakes in the center console if you need ‘em.” Grandpa said, and then let out a laugh. Lucy sent him a glare, and Sam smiled.

“Dad.” Lucy said, her hands going to her hips. She shook her head as she turned her back to them to resume her tornado around the kitchen.

“I'm only kidding.” He said, waving a hand at her before clapping it on Sam's shoulder. Lowly, he said to him, “I keep the stakes in the glove box.” And Sam had to muffle his laugh when his Mom turned back around. She narrowed her eyes, and the two quickly gave her their most innocent expressions. She looked between them, before turning her back to them again. After a moment, the two laughed silently and left before she could see.

***

Your eyes flicked open the moment the sun sank below the horizon. You sat up with a yawn, but your exhaustion quickly pulled away from your mind like the blinds shot up the window. You looked out at the night sky, the stars sparkling above. The moon hung high, a crescent hidden behind the trees around Grandpa's property. Sunlight and the days were blinding, but the stars and the moon were a warm, clear glow to your eyes. Before the blood, nights could only be lit up by the fluorescent lights of street lamps or the many bulbs on the boardwalk. Now, as you looked out at the California hills, you could see for miles. Part of you knew that tonight was not going to go well, even if it was a dull inkling in the back of your mind. A small voice that pulled you along, a gut feeling. The girls would be expecting you, and you were going to ditch. The thought of how they might react made the hairs on your arms stand up, and you silently let go of the string to let the blinds fall.

You started to feel like the night was looking back at you, and you knew, very well, that it could be. You looked at the door before Sam banged on it. He yelled,

“Get up! Get dressed or we’re gonna miss the movie!” Even if you could’ve heard him if he’d whispered it all the way downstairs.

“Yeah, yeah! I'm up, Sam. Jeez.” You muttered the last part under your breath as you went for the door to your shared bathroom with Star. The light was already on, and, as you grabbed your toothbrush, Sam leaned himself into the open door to the landing. He was rambling, but you weren't quite listening. Something about vampires, something about the movie. Eventually, you just had to shut the door in his face because you needed to change. You reached for your stereo, and turned it up to drown out Sam’s protests.

Blending in meant a very specific thing in Santa Cruz, and, while you usually kept it casual, something was making you gravitate towards a very specific jacket in your closet.

It was thick black leather, the kind you could hardly find in the modern times. At least, not without paying an arm and a leg. You'd thrifted it, knowing it had to belong to some ex-greaser from the 50s. It'd been your passion project the past few weeks. You’d stuck pins and spikes wherever they could fit, and forego any chances of flying under the radar when you saw a Bride of Frankenstein T-shirt at the thrift. Maybe it was too on the nose, but it made a great back patch. You added a little red paint and drew the words, Dead Girl, on the back to make it look like it was written in blood. Yeah, it was definitely obvious, but whatever happened to hiding in plain sight?

The jacket hugged you as you walked out of your room, and a black sabbath cut off T-shirt peaked out underneath. Your boots made your footsteps heavy as you walked down the hallway, and you slid down the bannister with a grace only possible by being able to fly now.

You caught something whirling towards you, and the clanging of the keys hitting your hand told you what they were before you looked. You looked at Grandpa, and he let out his signature laugh. Your sunglasses fell from the top of your head down over your eyes, shielding them as you said,

“Careful, old-timer.” With your own growing grin. The shades, the jacket, your blue-jeans? You were only a few pieces off from Michael's look, but with infinitely more style. You thought so, at least. You wore bangles and necklaces that jingled in your ears, and two tied bracelets around your wrist. Even if you hadn't seen your boys in weeks, you wouldn't take them off. And, you couldn't forget your earrings. The girls had practically held you down as they pierced your lobes. You wore long dangly earrings, and then a row of smaller hoops marking three piercings on each ear. You glanced at your fading reflection, before you shifted towards the door. It was easy to corral the boys into Grandpa's car, and, as you peeled out of the driveway, you let Sam fiddle with the radio. Though, your eyes shifted off the road when Sam said,

“It's this same damn song again.” And the Classics IV filled the air. You glanced at him, and watched as he unceremoniously skipped to the next station. The next station was something more Sam's speed. 80s synth rock. It could be a coincidence. It could. You stared ahead at the dark, one hand on the wheel as you bit your nail between your teeth. But, as you turned the music up, you silently decided against it.

A possibility began to swirl in your mind. One you didn't bother to share with the boys yet. But, knowing the original movie, 'Spooky' reminded you a bit too much of a specific opening song. And, if Sam had already heard it... You didn't know what that meant yet, but a possibility stuck to your mind. The wind whipped in your ears as you thought, This could be only the beginning. 

[walmart-icarus]

Lucy grew up in Santa Carla, right? I winder if she ever saw the Lost Boys when she was a teen…

[creaturefeaturecommando]

My hot take of the day is that although Max is the mastermind of what happened in The Lost Boys, he isn’t some abusive figure who manipulates, abuses and brainwashes the boys like the fandom thinks he is and that the boys are just innocent pawns who don’t know any better and are forced to partake in his plan. I think people came to that conclusion just because he told them they’re not allowed in the store and was mean about it but people fail to realize that

1. The boys bring unwanted attention and Max’s entire thing is that he wants to be perceived as a normal person and not have his cover blown

2. If you were a parent and your bad ass kids who constantly cause trouble came to your job you’d tell them to leave too

My main point is that The Boys are assholes, Max is an asshole, they’re all assholes and it’s fine. You don’t have to turn the boys into brainless little abused puppets who are being mind controlled, abused and manipulated by Max to try to justify what they did. Like I’m pretty sure when they weren’t ordered by Max to kill all those people they killed before meeting the Emersons, like the security guard or when David wanted Star to kill Michael (before it was known that she was the son of the woman Max wanted to be their mother), or Michael’s hazing ritual in general.

Like no one’s going to fault you for loving them as the assholes that they are. You don’t have to turn them into “uwu poor wittle babies” , it’s okay to love them as assholes.