#addams family miniature house

[mask131]

The evolution of Wednesday Addams (1)

We did the mother and the grandmother, now we need to talk about the daughter. In this month leading up to an entire television series centered around her, we cannot ignore who became one of the favorites of the Addams fans: Wednesday Addams, the only daughter of Gomez and Morticia.

Wednesday’s original appearance in the cartoons of Charles Addams was iconic enough for it to never change across adaptations. A little girl dressed in a white-collared black dress that would be perfect for a funeral, with a thin body, pale face and sleek black hair. Note that while in all adaptations Wednesday has braids, here she does not: her hair simply parts and falls around her head neatly as if she had braids, even though she has not. Her appearance is very reminiscent, in miniature, of her mother’s - she inherited a pale complexion, black hair and a tight black dress, but all the morbid glamour of Morticia is gone to rather have a sort of mournful innocence with Wednesday. One unique trait however, which makes her stand out among the rest of her family, is the way her eyes are drawn. Two black dots, as if we were in a Belgian comic book. This makes her look much “cuter” and more “cartoony”, reinforcing again this sense of innocence and somehow setting her a bit apart from the rest of her grim-looking family... But we’ll come back to that later. 

It might surprise you to learn that Wednesday wasn’t originally a cold, stoic, cynical and emotionless girl. This is what the adaptations built through time but originally, Wednesday had... emotions! And not just quiet emotions, open and visible ones! In fact Wednesday smiled - and quite a lot. She showed through the cartoons a true childful glee and youthful energy in all her games and activites, be it wielding a crossbow, shooting the recreation hall monitor with arrows, or digging up bodies in the graveyard. Not only did she show joy, but she also showed anger: we have one notorious drawing of Wednesday screaming and kicking her bed due to being put on the roll of honor at school. Yes, in the original cartoons, Wednesday was able to throw a tantrum. She only shows in a few drawings a blank expression, but it seems to be usually in answer to things she doesn’t like much (such as being dressed up as an angel on Christmas). 

Wednesday is seen throughout Chas’ cartoons partaking in various typical childish or girlish activites, but always with a twist. She reads books - but the book turns out to be “A werewolf in Paris” and briefly turns HER into a werewolf. She cut paper dolls - but mysteriously one in the row has three legs. She keeps watch for a bird-house in the tree... except the bird-house is a miniature replica of the Addams house, and it doesn’t attract bird but bats. Her father pushes her not on a swing-tire ; but on a broom-swing. And she is often seen playing with her dollhouse, be it for putting skeletons in a small closet or decorating the house for a funeral - sometimes, you can even see actual miniature human people living INSIDE the dollhouse. Chas often depicts Wednesday’s private bedroom (well, what seems to be her private bedroom, even though Pugsley sometimes sleeps with her in bed) - a lovely little decrepit room with an octopus painted on the bed, a cobweb-filled window, a private staircase to the attic and a bizarre mural depicting some sort of... humanoid-bird-like-child being... chased by a weird friendly spiky lizard and a snake... on what seems to be a beach? There must be some reference I am missing.

Wednesday’s childhood however is far from being all gloomy sunsets and heavy rains, so to speak - she could be considered the least “lucky” of the family members. “Wednesday, child of woe”, and indeed in Charles Addams cartoons, instead of being a true predator like in future adaptations, Wednesday is often... a victim. She seems to be the “weak” link of the chain, a bit too soft and gentle for the habits of her own family. As seen in the tantrum cartoon, she gets on a roll of honor at school while her brother is a perfectly horrible brat. Several time she seems puzzled by her own abilities, such as the bizarre paper dolls. She is seen distinctively worried when Pugsley drives his toy car alongside the family’s car on the big road - while everybody else smiles and cheers. And Pugsley is seen actually trapping his sister alive behind a wall as part of his “games”... It shows that when Charles Addams did a grim parody of Mother Goose’s Nursery Rhymes (with Grandma Addams as the Mother Goose), Wednesday appeared as Miss Muffet, scared and distraught by the sudden apparition of a disturbing giant spider... She can’t even take a break on holiday, as a drawing of her on the beach shows her scared when a hand pops out of a seashell. It seems that poor little Wednesday is a magnet for weird, surprising and disturbing things.

Now, despite all of this, one shouldn’t think that Wednesday isn’t a happy child. Far from it: she seems to be showered in love by many members of the family. Her father is especially close to her: he plays with her on the broom-swing, he does creepy shadow-puppets before she goes to sleep ; he sings the “This little piggy” rhyme to her when she goes to bed (note: it is canon that in this incarnation Wednesday has six toes on one feet)... Wednesday’s relationship with her mother seems much more distant and cold. Beyond one drawing where she is seen eating with her mother at a restaurant only for Morticia to ask for the leftover meat (in order to feed the vultures), there isn’t really any intimate, playful or loving actions between her and Wednesday. In contrast to Wednesday’s closeness to her father, this is quite jarring - but again, Morticia was designed as a cold, aloof, stern mother locking her own children in a chest when they need to be punished. The coldness of Morticia is perfectly expressed in one specific drawing: Wednesday, who just has been poisoned by Pugsley, comes rushing to her mother, only for Morticia to answer “Well don’t come whining to me. Go tell him you’ll poison him right back!”. Again, we see here how Wednesday, with her mind “too soft”, doesn’t fit immediately within the deadly and morbid logic of the family.

When talking about Pugsley, Wednesday seems to have a conflictual relationship with him (as all brothers and sisters do). As seen above, Pugsley is a bit of a bully-brother towards her, poisoning her or walling her in without Wednesday being able to do anything. He also seems to mock her when she gets on the honor roll at scholl... But at the same time, they appear very close in many other drawings, companions in mischief. They sell together poisons at a lemonade stand. They are seen tripping together the mailman, and she helps Pugsley put on a fake shark suit to frighten swimmers. They are even seen playing together at Christmas - be it warming the fire to burn Santa Claus if he ever comes down the chimney, or playing together at beheading dolls on Christmas Eve. To complete the family portrait, Grandmama is seen telling Wednesday lovely fairytales and bedtime stories where the dragon gobbles up knights and princesses before living happy ever after. Wednesday even seems to be somehow close to Lurch, as in some drawings she is seen holding his hand - while no other member of the family has any physical contact with the butler. 

Charles Addams named Wednesday after the popular rhyme “Monday Child” that went as such:  “Monday’s child is fair of face, / Tuesday’s child is full of grace. / Wednesday’s child is full of woe, / Thursday’s child has far to go. / Friday’s child is loving and giving, / Saturday’s child works hard for a living. / And the child born on the Sabbath day / Is bonny and blithe, good and gay.”

As for the description he gave of her for the upcoming television series, here is what he had to say:

“Child of woe, is wan and delicate with her mother’s black hair and white complexion. Sensitive and on the quiet side, she loves the picnics and outings to the underground caverns often planned by Morticia and Gomez. She is a solemn child, prim in dress and, on the whole, pretty lost. Gomez is wild about her. Secretive and imaginative, poetic, seems underprivileged and given to occasional tantrums. Has six toes on one foot.”

A last interesting note: before Wednesday became the daughter of the “family”, she was originally conceived for a series of specific drawings about a little girl playing at jumping rope all alone in a city street - two drawings to be exact. One had the little girls completely exhausted, murmuring numbers beyond the two thousand as she kept jumping and jumping, with a passing by couple giving her worried looks. The other had the little girl jumping under a streetlight alone at night in an empty street, with a disturbed or distraught look on her face.

#wednesday addams #the addams family #chas addams #addams family #charles addams #cartoons #drawings

[atwas-meme-ing]

Just saw a comment on FB calling the 60's sitcom version of The Addams Family "the most functional tv family".

No freaking kidding! I mean, look at it: Gomez was treated as the head of the house. Morticia was supportive of Gomez, never put him down, respected his authority- and Gomez, at the same time, respected her boundaries ("Morticia, that's French!" "Gomez, later, we have an important matter here" "Ah, yes, later"). They supported each others ideas, goals, dreams, and rarely, if ever, called them silly.

Their kids were well-behaved, knew the rules, and followed them. Yeah, they did some really weird things, but they were not out of line with their family. They were taught to respect their parents, because their parents respected each other and their kids (this is a very important distinction, because respect is learned by watching, not by being lectured).

Anyone who came into their house was welcomed as family. Crazy old Uncle Fester, who arguably causes more trouble than any other single character in the show? Chide him a bit for threatening to shoot someone in the back, perhaps, but he still gets his own room. Grandmama needs someone to look after her in her old age? Set her up with a crystal ball and a gypsy tent in the living room so she can carry on her profession as a fortune-teller while still being surrounded by family. A detached hand that somehow managed to come to life has nowhere to go? Take him in and set him up with a system of tunnels under the house and boxes that open only from the inside so he has a private place to feel comfortable while still being a part of a family. Got a butler that looks a bit like Boris Karloff and is somewhat introverted and doesn't like to talk? Pay him well, give him decent servant's quarters, thank him for everything he does and let him know at every opportunity just how much he is appreciated, and give him as much time at the harpsichord as he wants (besides, he plays it beautifully and the whole family loves to dance). Heck, there were times that Lurch was treated like he was Gomez or Morticia's brother or something- I mean, there was a whole episode where Lurch's mother came to visit, and Gomez and Morticia pretended they were the servants- of their own house!!!

And then Cousin Itt has his own miniature room for whenever he comes to visit, and the entire family, instead of insisting that he try to get over his speech impediment, just learned how to understand him. Gomez made arrangements for his mother-in-law, Granny Frump, to get pampered beauty treatments at a high-class health spa, and insisted that Granny Frump was a lovely woman (and if you haven't seen that episode, Granny Frump was played by the same actress who played the Wicked Witch of the West). Morticia's sister Ophelia had a terrible habit of body-slamming Gomez, for whatever reason, and while Gomez didn't seem terribly fond of her (understandable), he never turned her out of the house, and he never said a bad word about her, because she was his wife's sister, and he loved and respected Morticia too much to disrespect her family.

And anybody that came into their house was treated just as well as the rest of the family.

It's never been expressly stated just what the Addamses are. Witches? Vampires? Ghouls? Maybe just a conglomeration of supernatural creatures? Whatever they are, they're one of the best examples of a loving, respectful family I ever saw.

#good #the addams family #snap snap #my opinion #gomez addams #morticia addams #wednesday addams #pugsley addams #uncle fester #grandmama #lurch #cousin itt #granny frump #ophelia frump #thing #the irony of the addamses being almost certainly a bunch of supernatural monsters #and yet being better humans than most human beings #it reminds me of how Jesus would tell the Jews that even the Gentiles could follow the law better than the Pharisees #or paul telling the early church that even those outside the church were acting better than believers #sometimes the religious people really can take a lesson from the people that aren't often considered to be so

[liyazaki]

Would you be willing to share more photos of your bookshelves or miniatures? For bookshelves, I'm just always curious to see people's shelves and you have that adorable jumping spider plush, and I fucking ADORE miniatures. I've never done any of the book nook kits though, I always do the dollhouses because I love dolls.

sorry this took forever- I’m obsessed with them too! do you make the full-on dollhouses? those things are a crazy amount of work. I’ve always wanted to make a gothic Addams family house...

I have a couple other minis in progress & now I want to make a Bad Buddy rooftop book nook, as if I didn't have enough projects in rotation 🤪 an ITSAY book nook is absolutely coming, once I can figure out how the hell to put the Promthep Cape cliff in there.

oh, and I just started needle felting & I'm already scheming BL project ideas...

I don't have a pic of the rest of my bookshelf, but it's mostly just nostalgic books from my childhood. I’m surrounded by books all day long, so a book has to be pretty special for me to buy a copy.

☝ closeups of the KinnPorsche book nook I just finished!

every piece of this was made by hand: the ceiling light, the microscopic drawer handles- all of it 🙃

#mor answers #all-you-had-to-do-was-neigh #kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #kinnporsche book nook #bad buddy #bad buddy book nook #itsay #itsay book nook #miniatures #mor makes miniatures

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Miniature house of the Addams Family.

Artist Kelly Little-Kuehnert of K&K Custom Miniature Creations made this amazing miniature models of the Addams Family home for a client. The house took about a year to built.

I could never do this, I still haven’t started my dollhouse, but these miniatures are costly, b/c they’re so small and detailed. I wonder what she charged to make this.

via fb

#miniatures #doll houses #addams family miniature house #long post

[yespumpkindoodlesthings]

@shenandoah76209 !!!

#addams family house #miniatures #dollhouses #so cool

[palmofafreezinghand]

rosalie & esme headcanons

Okay, working on a story that requires me to sift through of a lot of history/ideas about Rosalie and Esme’s dynamic so here’s some general working thoughts because it appears I have many: 

In short, their relationship is complex, tragic, and beautiful. I think this post by @gisellelx really sums up the root complexity of it all just perfectly, and pinpoints just how Carlisle and Edward add to that complexity.  

In the first few months to the first year, Esme was the only Cullen Rosalie would stand and begrudgingly became the woman’s shadow simply because being in someone’s company beat being alone with her thoughts most days. 

In the early days Esme tried to offer her own hobbies as a means of escape: needlework, painting, sculpting, miniatures. Rosalie typically tried each once, just so Esme would get off her back, but never really enjoyed them. She preferred simply sitting in the same room silently as Esme went about her own things. This didn’t stop Esme from framing each piece of Rosalie’s art as if they were masterpieces. 

They stumbled upon her love for mechanical work solely by accident. Esme’s band saw got stuck, Edward ended up worsening the problem, and Rosalie fixed it within minutes once the two left the garage. 

A few days later Esme went out and bought an entire lot of broken tools from a foreclosed farm. Rosalie rolled her eyes at the desperate attempt to win her affections but tinkered with the machinery anyways. Esme brings the antique table saw Rosalie fashioned into a drafting table with them almost every single move. 

This fascination with mechanics shifted to automobiles when Edward absolutely screwed his transmission. He was intent on fixing it himself, despite having no idea where to start. After eight days of Edward just making even more problems Rosalie snuck into the garage while he was in town and started to fix it herself. Although she was very clear she was not doing this for Edward’s sake but instead to stop having to hear him rev the engine six hundred times a day. 

Esme didn’t know a thing about cars when Rosalie joined them, absolutely hated driving them and only tolerated driving in them, but you can bet she was out in that garage nearly every day, casually offering help that Rosalie didn’t ask for nor particularly cared for. 

“You know, I know how to weld, in case you need something made.” “I’ve been told I’m pretty good with a paintbrush if you wanted to pick a different color.” “I’ve got a real nice sanding block if you need it.”

They have an extensive collection of matching coveralls. It started back in the ‘30s when Rosalie would just borrow a pair of Esme’s if she needed them. Esme eventually just started buying a second pair if she was already buying herself one. As they’ve grown closer and Rosalie has become a bigger part of Esme’s projects over the years it’s become a lot more intentional. Rosalie’s favorite pair is one she gave Esme for Christmas one year, they’re hot pink and she hand embroidered one of Esme’s floral sketches on the back panel and their names over the breast pocket. Alice occasionally tries to get them to wear some fashion forward or designer get up but they usually revert back to their tried and true. (Although Rosalie will wear a bedazzled pair of safety glasses once in a while.)

Esme is at every single one of Rosalie’s college graduations and Rosalie is at every single gallery opening or open house no matter how small. 

Rosalie has asked Esme to “give her away” at more than one of her weddings, not the first one but many since. Esme has never failed to ‘cry’ at this ask.

They’ve done a few coordinating Halloween costumes over the years the highlights have included: Barbra Streisand & Judy Garland, Debbie Jelinsky & Mortica Addams, Lucy Westenra & Mina Murray. 

One of Rosalie’s most prized possessions is a sketchbook full of images of her family, her house in Rochester, little details of the city she grew up and loved. Most of them have a distance to them, as if the artist had to sit in a park yards away and sneakily jot down the image, which is exactly what Esme had to do. They weren’t friends at that point but due to the public nature of her disappearance it was impossible to sneak any of Rosalie’s possessions out of the Hale home so sketches of inconsequential things was the best Esme could do. 

“Rose,” “Rosie,” “Rosie Posie,” “Ro,” “Lily,” “Lil,” “Rosa,” “Lee.”  Esme makes a lot of nicknames and very few stick, that does not mean she tries them any less. Rosalie pretends to hate them. 

(Charles, Royce, and infertility & infant loss references below.) 

Both have named an imaginary kid after the other, they have never told each other this and they most likely never will reach the point where they disclose this to each other but it has been a constant in their dreams for decades. (Virginia Lilianne Cullen and Vera May McCarty respectively.) 

Surprisingly they’ve stayed away from the kid discussion. They occasionally discuss an imaginary alternate universe or the hurt that lingers decades later. But it remains fairly surface level because it’s the one major topic they will never agree on and at this point they know to avoid the unnecessary pain. (Rosalie secretly resents the fact Esme got the life she herself always wanted. Esme tirelessly tries to point out that her human life sucked.) 

Renesmee posed a huge roadblock in their relationship for a good chunk of time. It eventually triggered a few discussions/fights that needed to be had and the door for those difficult conversations is more open than it ever has been but they still choose to not discuss it most days. 

Despite this Rosalie is the most conscious of the family about Esme’s son by far. Carlisle is terrified of dropping him into conversation, even if the conversation calls for it, and is more focused on never working on the anniversary of the boy’s passing than anything else, and that all stems from his own trauma around the day. 

Meanwhile, Rosalie’s the one who makes a conscious effort to slip Esme a ‘Happy Birthday’ card every year. If they aren’t living together when the date rolls around it’s not unknown for her to just so happen to be in the area and stop by, even if Esme insists that she does not need to stop by. Rosalie is the one who casually says the boy’s name, who points at the new childcare trend and laughs “can you imagine,” who makes sure the forget-me-nots at every property are well tended to. It’s difficult but she can’t just push it under the rug. 

Their relationship is a lot closer to sisters than anything. There’s some pretty heavy maternal notes but that’s just who Esme is, for Rosalie she’s the protective, slightly overbearing older sister versus a full-fledged mom. 

At first Esme approached the situation from a maternal standpoint - a girl tragically losing her life in a way Esme herself was all too familiar with of course she would want to provide comfort and guidance. But Rosalie very much saw herself as an adult, she was about to start a family and life of her own; she simply did not need the same adoptive mother that Edward had desperately needed. 

And, to be honest Esme didn’t “need” a daughter in the way she had needed a son when she first met Edward. Esme hadn’t truly interacted with another woman in over ten years; her purpose in life had been pretty well cemented as “Carlisle’s wife” and “Edward’s mom” for a decade. She had her hobbies and her individual interests but she was never her first priority, or second, or even third. 

Rosalie hated both of those men for a myriad of reasons and resented the idea that Esme treated them like the center of the universe. This resentment grew stronger when she learned more about Esme & her life. She simply couldn’t get past the huge disconnect between the Esme she was told once existed, a woman who fled her husband and marketed herself as having a child out of wedlock and the Esme she saw, a woman who consistently prioritized her husband, and son, at the expense of her own well being. 

At some point Rosalie truly saw Esme as a warped version of the woman she was supposed to grow up to be. (Young wife of an affluent and well respected man, perfect home family and appearances.) This was before they really knew each other but seeing someone so unhappy in a life she had envied as a human, because yes the Hales and Cullens bumped shoulders at least once, was a start to realize that dream wasn’t perfect for everyone and even if Carlisle hadn’t been there that night she would not be living a fantasy. 

On the other hand Rosalie was the first person to point out to Esme how quick her life had changed, and made her consider if she actually liked these changes, and that it was genuinely alright to grieve these changes/missed opportunities. 

While Carlisle and Edward were furious about the Charles situation for Esme rarely did they ever hold enough space to allow her to be angry for herself. Rosalie had no issue correcting this. 

Esme didn’t really agree with Rosalie’s approach to the Royce situation, especially after dealing with the Edward-Charles situation less than two years prior. She knew that it wouldn’t solve the problem completely and that the choice to take his life would weigh heavily forever. She never tried to talk Rosalie out of it because she knew it wasn’t her choice, but she didn’t object when Carlisle first did. But once Rosalie had made up her mind Esme was behind her, she quietly offered to help but Rosalie denied. 

The night of Royce’s death Esme not only bought Rosalie the wedding dress she helped with her hair and makeup. (Explored this a little when I first started writing fic earlier this year but it’s in desperate need of a revision after reading Midnight Sun & figuring out their voices a touch more.) 

By the time the saga rolls around Rosalie has done a lot of the work she’s going to do. She’s still resentful and aggressive but she’s able to recognize how her experiences affect her. Esme, not so much. 

All that to say Rosalie is the one providing comfort more often these days. Sometimes it’s a shoulder to cry on. Other days it’s Esme tossing Rosalie car keys and without a word both of them getting in the car and just driving. Other days it’s screaming country-pop break-up songs at the top of their lungs. Other times it’s destroying fine china because some days you just need to destroy the symbol of the woman you were raised to be. 

Charles is still very much an unresolved issue with Carlisle, Edward, and Esme that the three of them opt to ignore most of the time. Rosalie on the other hand encourages an open dialogue, and after a few years knows more about what went on in that house than both Carlisle and Edward combined, simply because she asked. Which means Esme’s first call, on Charles related issues, is rarely anyone but Rosalie, much to Edward and Carlisle’s frustration/relief. 

When Esme secretly bought Charles’ house in the 70’s it was Rosalie she took with her. When Edward simply refuses to stop picking fights about every single thing she says it’s Rosalie she mentions her discomfort to. When Carlisle does something particularly triggering her first instinct is typically to tell Rosalie, not Carlisle. 

They are a two woman show, neither are particularly close with Alice. Through no one’s real fault it’s simply hard for Alice “I know I will get everything I want and no harm will come to me ever again, also I have absolutely no memory of my tragic past” Cullen to relate to them and vice versa. They do girls nights and they love each other and they truly enjoy each other’s company but it’s very much not a trio. 

Esme often gets irritated by Rose’s constant cynicism and disregard for others and Rose often gets irritated at Esme’s lack of self respect, illogical kindness, and her absolute inability to stand up to people. Mainly Edward, especially when Rosalie is the one suffering from the brunt of Edward’s callousness. 

Rose’s crudeness and often rudeness is rarely directed at Esme but there’s still days where it’s a harsh reminder of a life she once lived. Somewhat often the boundary “you’re not allowed to be mean to me for no reason” has to be drawn. 

There’s a running gag in the family that Rosalie will be the getaway driver, or hitman, if Esme ever decides she wants out. It’s become more of a light-hearted joke over the years but the knowledge that someone will be behind her is weirdly affirming. 

Rosalie and Carlisle now are close but it’s no secret that relationship is difficult. No matter how much she wanted to Esme never pushed them to get along. The first time she ever put her foot down in the “be nice to Carlisle” fight was when Rosalie began to insist on calling Carlisle only by ‘Esme’s second husband.’ Nowadays Esme lovingly refers to Emmett as Rosalie’s tenth husband, or whatever wedding number they’re on. 

They have a decades long running debate about the ethicality of romance novels, and specifically the morality of bodice rippers. If they’re living apart, a mass market paperback will randomly arrive in the mail every few months with a quick note, ‘thought you’d enjoy this trash.’ 

They both generally veer away from true crime. Esme more than Rosalie. They’ll occasionally watch an episode of Forensic Files or throw on a podcast episode when they work together, but Emmett always secretly vets whatever the thing is. They got a particular kick out of a podcast episode that had a wack conspiracy theory about Royce&co’s murder being the product of Bonnie & Clyde. Although Rosalie got quite perturbed when a different podcast tried to connect her (unknowingly) to some of Edward’s killings. 

I love the fanon theory that they donate largely to shelters and other dv causes but I think that work is done from a very large distance. They donate great sums sure but rarely, if ever, are they in the shelters, being a victim advocate, ect. 

They do really well living apart, and nowadays prefer it. There’s always an adjustment period when the family all move back together. They’re great friends but very different people and thrive without constantly reminding the other of the worst moments of their lives. 

#rosalie hale #esme cullen #headcanons #queue

[subspencer]

naurrr cause Spence just exudes fall energy and I've been thinking about it everyday since October started 😭 going to pumpkin patches and carving them, he buys every product that's pumpkin spice flavored even the most absurd things, keeping a candy bowl in the kitchen where he eats all the good ones but insists he hasn't , watching scary movies, decorating !, the entire house always smelling like apple cider 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

i wanna have a pumpkin patch date with him 🥺 one where we put our faces in all those wooden cutouts and pose for pics, pet all the miniature horses and goats, find the best pumpkin to take home. we make those little pillsbury sugar cookies (that only taste good when they’re right out the oven) and watch addams family or halloween town. we go to the halloween themed amusement park nights and go through the haunted walk throughs and he has to stop me from hitting employees because my fight or flight response is fight. we try to make candy from scratch at home, resulting in just burnt sugar and we decide to just get out of the house for a while to let the smell waft away, so we go on a walk thru the park and make piles of leaves. we take a candle making class and have a house full of slightly fucked up little candles, and have a romantic at home date lit by all of them.

#soft #i’m not very imaginative right now sorry but #i want fall and spencer reid

[fuckyeahfightlock]

The Addams Family house in miniature by Bentley House Minis. A decade-long project that will knock yr socks off (full house tour starts at 29:20)

#cool stuff I like #Addams Family #minatures #doll house #artists are magic! #crafters are magic!

[justasparkwritings]

May: TinyDoubt

Previous: April’s The Wild Lillies 

Pairing: None

Genre: Creative Angst

Rating: PG13 

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: Swearing! 

Summary: Creative block is alive and well as you stare at the figurines in  front of you, your only comfort? The voice in your head challenging you to soldier on. 

Notes: I tried to channel my deep deep writers block for this. Do I hate it? Maybe. Do I feel all those things about my writing? Oh absolute. Is that inner voice how I talk to myself? You bet it is. Is the title so good? Yes, yes it is. 

Paintbrush

Sculpting clay

Carving tools

Dry hands

Paint under fingernails

Hair swept back

Slick drying on cheeks

Shoulder’s tense

         Should’ve sprung for the expensive chair, the one that holds my legs back and supports my core.

       It isn’t too late, I could still spring for it after this batch sells… if I sell it.

       I sigh, glancing at the clock, 5 minutes to midnight. How long have I been sitting here? When was the last time I ate or drank anything? Too long. I’ll feel it tomorrow, the ache in my joints, the exhaustion in my body, limbs sore, eyes worn out, all craving nourishment and rest.

       Gently, I place the figurine on the clean expanse of my drying rack. Thin and leucite, it supports the variety of creations I’ve been making, each in a different state of disarray. None have ended up being perfect, none are worthy of completing, except maybe, just maybe, this one.

       Standing perfectly still at 3inches, somehow, in the bright light of my desk lamp, magnifying lens on its second highest setting, I had perfectly sculpted the manicured swoop of hair. Each strand carved delicately, the part off center, the lingering hair nearly over the left eye, all made from modeling clay. It had taken days to perfect the lift, the arching bow from one side. In its naked form, it looks immaculate. But I know I can only succeed if the coloring is perfect, if the glasses I made, labored over, filling with resin in raspberry pink, fit properly over the new ears I carved days ago.

       Ears were always the easy part, a simple structure on the head, never taking more than a pin-head size of clay. Noses too, tiny and dainty drops, always done in the middle of creation.

        Staring at this latest iteration, I can’t help but wonder if this is worth it. Meticulously drawing every line, breaking my back mixing yellows to get the golden shade and all the highlights, not to mention the truly painstaking part of it all, hands. Is it worth it, the weeks spent making this tiny, tiny creation, only to deem it unworthy, and left incomplete?

        Yes.

        Yes, it is.

       It’s always worth it, despite what the odds tell me. There’s always that voice in my head, telling me that not only is my skill appreciated, but worth something. The last set sold for five times the asking price. This set could double, triple that… Maybe if it did well enough, I could transition to this, full time. Though the thought of working on perfecting miniatures for 12 hours a day sounds quite possibly like hell.  

        This isn’t hell, or horrible, you’re too hard on yourself.

        The voice in my head tells me. Laughing, I counter that statement. “I am not, they’re all shit,”

        They are not.

        “I should’ve stuck with wood carving,” I grumble.

        You cut yourself pretty badly the last time-

        “I know I did!” 

       I can’t tell if I’ve fully lost it, or if this conversation is going to lead to a creative breakthrough. Though based on my running internal monologue, which yes is voiced by Nicole Byer, I am due for a serious heart-to-mind pep talk. It’s not that I haven’t scolded myself recently, or lamented about how completely incompetent I am, how horrific my work is, or how I am wasting my youth sitting at a cramped desk with coffee I’ve reheated four times. I haven’t had the full ‘this is meaningless, stop wasting your time perfecting the shades of blonde on this plastic and clay figurine and go figure out the next steps in your career’ in at least three weeks. I suppose, staring at these in complete monstrosities, that a conversation with myself regarding what I’m doing is far more enjoyable than listening to my father droll on about how I am in command of my destiny.

        Because I’m not in control.  If I was, I wouldn’t be sitting here making TinyTan figurines, crying when the paint dries a different color than my swatches or weeping when a miniature dot of adhesive gets stuck on the outside of the clay and chars the entire piece in the oven.

        So I’m not in charge of my fate.

        You make your own luck.

        “Alright, I didnn’t ask you.”

        Who did you ask then? Jimin? Yoongi? Oh wait, they don’t have mouths and they’re made of plastic!

        “See, they don’t have mouths because they fucking suck and I should give up.”

        They’re probably better than you think, you’re just too close to it.  

        “I think that’s actually incorrect and there is nothing wrong with how close I am to these figures,”

        You are though

        “What do you suppose I do? Capture their souls? Summon them with a knock off The Power of Seven Will Set Me Free, while I hold their tiny little plastic hands?” I throw the ball of clay I’ve been rolling onto the table, the small glob sticking to the side of a larger block I had been carving from.  

        Do you always have to be so difficult?

        “You’re inside my brain! You know how creatively frustrated I am! And you know how absolutely fucking bitchy I get when I’m upset!”  

        Why are you frustrated?

        I groan, standing up from my chair and walking to the kitchen sink. The hot water scalds my dry hands, melting the clay and paint off, the extra judicial scrubbing peeling back layers of grime I’d let build in the last 10 hours.

        Why are you so frustrated? Is it because you aren’t good enough? Are you scared it’s going to be your senior year showcase again, where that girls sister didn’t understand you collage and made snarky comments?

        I dry my hands, unwilling to answer the questions my mind was asking.

        If you don’t talk about it you’ll blow up like a volcano…

        “Because! Fuck, because I can’t get any of this right. I just got the hair done, and that’s taken me two weeks. All I’m doing is chipping away, carving away, fucking up and starting again. When I’m not working on it, all I’m doing is thinking about it. They haunt me in my sleep, their little round bellies body rolling to Mic Drop, trying to get me to eat the mini quiches they’ve carved their initials in. My life is consumed by these tiny fucking figures and it’s making me absolutely hate them.”

        Hate them?

        “Whoever decided TinyTan needed to be a thing,”

        Shouldn’t you be mad at whoever told you to create your own versions of them?

        “Oh, so you want me to be mad at myself? Aren’t I already?”

        Okay, point made.

        “I just stare at them, their little body parts, heads on a platter like the Addams Family.. Everything I make is ugly, everything I make isn’t good enough. Every curve, every cut… garbage.”

        Do you want to quit?

        “Give up on my project?”

        Yeah, say fuck it, toss them out, never come back to them.

        “I, should’ve gotten into doll houses,”

       Why?

       “They’re easier, the rules aren’t as rigid, it’s an interpretation and you can do that 1000 different ways,”

       So quit, move to doll houses, sell all your tools. But, answer this, what happens when you get upset or frustrated making doll houses?

       I sigh. “I don’t quit craft projects.”

       … didn’t you just say you wanted to?

       “I don’t quit crafts. Relationships and friendships, that’s another story. But art?”

        Then why are you bitching?

        “I just,” I sigh, slumping into my couch. “If I finish them, and they don’t turn out, what kind of artist will I be? What does that say about my craft? My ‘talent’?”

        What kind of artist do you want to be?

        “This Socratic method is really fucking annoying.”

        I’m your mind, stop doing it if it bugs you so much

        “I just, what does it say about me if they aren’t any good?”

       I’m not sure it says anything about you as a person.

       “Me as an artist?”

       I don’t know if we can answer that.

       “Maybe you’re right,”

        About?

        “Maybe I just, I’m too hard on myself. A set of figurines isn’t going to break my hobby… even if it’s broken my spirit,”

        If it’s broken your spirit, why keep doing it?

        “I love the finished product, but I love the process more,”

        Then keep going.

        The thing about the voice inside my head is that no matter how hard I try to lie to it, it always knows. It always comes back with wisdom and truth, shining a light on exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid.

        “Tonight?”

        No bitch, you need sleep. TinyTan will be there tomorrow.

        “Is this when we sing Zero O’Clock while we brush our teeth?”

        Only if you want to.

        I rise from my couch, slipping my apron off, putting it on my crafting chair and clear my throat.

       “Oo- and you’re gonna be happy,” I sing as I move through my apartment, miniatures drying, waiting for another day of scraping, molding and painting, my broken spirit stitching itself back together as the clock resets. 

Next: June Pride

#thebtswritersclub #monthlychallenge #BTS fanfic #Tinytan #Tinytanfic #bangtanuniversity #bangtanarmynet #btsgoldnet #ficswithluv

[rocksalt-and-pie]

been watching lots of youtube videos lately of people making miniatures (especially the addams family house) and since I've fallen back into the supernatural trash can as well I have a strong urge to make a supernatural miniature (maybe a motel room cluttered with hunting utensils or Bobby's office or something) BUT a) I'm clumsy af and break everything I touch so handling tiny things might be a bad idea and b) all the fucking stores are closed and I don't wanna order stuff online because I know this obsession will be over by the time the package arrives because that's how my dumbass brain works sadly

#p

[justjessame]

Double Shot Chapter 23

To say I wasn’t tempted by the idea of doing a drive-by instead of a inside tour of my mom’s house would be a fucking lie. There was a HUGE part of me, even with the confidence having Clay by my side gave me, that wanted to drive by as fast as possible with a nod of my head toward the house and then fuck all the way off, but that wouldn’t do. Facing it, getting it out of the way, and then deciding what to do with the house was the best course of action. At least that’s the mantra I kept repeating to myself throughout the morning, while I also prepared for the celebratory dinner at Enzo’s.

Carrie was in the office when I called and she nearly squealed at the idea of a party being held. I wanted to cancel, just from the glee that she seemed to be oozing, but then I shrugged. Small tourist town on the coast, we didn’t get much excitement, I guess. We talked over how to make it work, without alienating Enzo’s regulars, and discussed something that I hadn’t wanted to mention to Keli.

“If I make it, can I bring it in without Joey getting pissed?” Joey was Enzo’s pastry chef, a territorial Italian who was known to lose his shit if he overheard a muttered complaint about the tiramisu.

Carrie snorted. “Joey will be fine as long as I promise him that you aren’t stealing his job. He keeps hearing glowing reviews of the pastries you make over at the Drip, he doesn’t KNOW it’s you, but he suspects.” Takes a baker to know one, I thought. “I’ll handle his overabundance of testosterone, you take care of the cake.”

I chose Saturday night. I hoped that Davey and George would come, and I thought I’d ask Clay to invite his team. It felt right, somehow to have all of us together for a night of celebration. Plus, with all of us in one spot, maybe I wouldn’t worry about the knife hanging over our heads.

Clay came in around lunchtime, and I smiled as I shifted control to Keli. While I did it almost daily when I made a run to the bank, this time we both knew, as did the girls I left in her hands, was different. She wished us well for our chore, since I told her what we were planning, and Clay’s eyes widened when she didn’t look murderous while she offered it.

I was chuckling as we walked to my car. “Keli’s my new manager,” I offered as I beeped the car unlocked so we could get in. “I think she’s taking well to her new role.” His eyes met mine when we got inside the car and I smiled. “You told me I should start delegating more.”

His answering smile nearly made me forget why we were in the car. “I know this isn’t easy for you,” I was still thinking about Keli, but he went on. “I’m right here, Char, if it gets too hard-” Oh, I blinked, he meant the house. Right, the whole point of the day. Shit.

“I know,” now, I added, starting the car and pulling onto the street. And I hoped he knew how much I loved having him with me. The house I grew up in looked more like a doll house than my memory bank allowed it to. In fact, if someone asked me to describe it prior to us pulling up in front, I might have created a word image that was a cross between the Addam’s family house and Dracula’s castle. Good times, good times.

In reality, it was white with pale blue trim. The scalloped framework of the wrap around porch, the white picket fence, the perfect lawn all belied the darker memories that took place inside. I shook my head when I took in the matching dollhouse mailbox.

“I forgot she added that,” I muttered, touching the wood with a fingertip. “She tried so hard to make everything picture perfect.” Clay was looking around, and I knew he was wondering if I had the key. “It’s here,” I held up the keyring that held all the keys I used daily. “Habit,” I murmured, thinking that it made little sense to have kept it with me, but I had.

“Are you ready?” His voice was quiet as we walked through the gate, up the floral lined pathway. I nodded, thinking it was all surreal. The last time I- Shaking it off, I took the steps onto the porch carefully, smiling at the care that Davey had paid for to keep up the house no one ever went inside.

I unlocked the door and took a deep breath. Opening it, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the air wasn’t stale. Then again, Davey and George probably had someone come in and air it out regularly, not to mention keep the dust at bay. What I wasn’t prepared for, as I stepped over a threshold I hadn’t touched since I was ten years old, was the fact that it was still completely furnished just like the last time I was inside.

Looking around, without moving further than the entry hall, it felt like if I stood still I’d hear her call out. That my mom would come through the doorway from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron and admonishing me for staying at the cafe too late. Or from the living room, a book in her hand and her reading glasses perched on her nose, eyes tight with worry and anxiety, asking me if I’d eaten or if I wanted her to make me a sandwich.

“Char?” Clay’s voice startled me, so lost in the past that I’d forgotten him. “Sweetheart?”

“I’m fine.” My voice was barely a whisper, I felt scared that I’d pop the bubble of nostalgia, the feeling that she was still here, still just out of sight felt so real to me.

I’d forgotten how light she’d kept the colors inside the house too, my memories of those years so clouded by the pain she was coiled in. Pale walls, pale wood, pale patterns. I started moving, knowing that she wasn’t here, not really. Her book, or the one she’d been reading last was still by the chair she always sat in near the fireplace in the library. Her glasses on top of it. I was surprised the cup she used for her tea wasn’t next to it on its matching saucer, but the housekeeper had probably washed and put it away.

It felt surreal, how light and airy the house actually felt, versus how I remembered feeling living inside of it. As I climbed the stairs, wondering what room she’d done it in, if there would be a sign of it, I saw that all the bedroom doors were open. So were the bathrooms. Mom would have had a coronary, I thought with a sad smile. My feet took me to my old bedroom and I held my breath at the sight of the room filled with everything from a childhood that I tried to block out.

The bed, so big for the tiny girl I’d been the last time I slept in it, had four huge white posts and a set of steps to help me get into it. The bed clothes, were they always lavender colored? I vaguely remembered the dollhouse, another replica of the house I stood in, filled with miniature versions of the furnishings and even the people. Or at least there had been, at one time all of them. I walked to it, feeling Clay watching from the doorway and bent down.

The house, like the one I was inside of, was immaculate. The little girl was in the kitchen, baking with a man who looked like George. A woman was in the library in Mom’s chair with a tiny book and a cup on the table beside her, a man who looked like Davey on the sofa. Tilting my head, and twisting the house on it’s rotating base, I smiled as the front came into view. There, hanging from the gingerbread trim of the front porch, from a noose I’d fashioned out of dental floss was the doll that looked like Walter. Happy that no one had removed at least the one thing that proved I’d actually fucking lived in this perfect house, I stood up and turned to see Clay staring at me, his eyes flashed to the dollhouse and I waited for him to gasp or his eyes to widened but he just grinned.

“Takes talent to make a functioning noose out of floss, Char,” he came further into the room and took a look around. “This house is something else.”

“This house is a lie,” I amended. “It’s gorgeous, it just doesn’t-” I sighed. Did I want it?

Clay wrapped himself around me, tucking my head under his chin. “You don’t have to make a decision today, or tomorrow.” I smiled as I snuggled into his chest. “It is a beautiful house though.” I couldn’t deny that. “Want to make at least ONE more good memory here?”

I tipped my head back and raised an eyebrow. His head lowered to mine and as his mouth met mine I smiled into his kiss thinking, perhaps, just perhaps, the house wasn’t ALL bad.

#Franklin Clay x OFC #The Losers (2010) #alternate universe #smut

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 11: The Auction

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The Amulet is one bid away, but they aren't the only vampires willing to pay whatever cost. Valdas and Isseya have their own ideas about ensuring Gaius' victory... or is it their own? It's hard to tell.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Taylor reaches the pair of vampires before the rest of them can make it down the stairs.

He approaches with an authority one wouldn’t expect to see from someone as human-looking as he is.

“Is there a problem here?” He doesn’t look at Valdas when he speaks — it’s immediately clear he couldn’t give less of a damn what the man has to say. He only cares about Cadence.

Taylor reaches out and places a tentative hand on the taller man’s arm. “Cade, are you okay?” But he doesn’t get an answer.

When Valdas recovers from the shock of being interrupted, he doesn’t come out on the other end nearly as caring as he’d sounded before. “This doesn’t concern you, halfling.”

But Taylor’s the type to take anything, whether it ‘concerns him’ or not, and stick his nose in it regardless.

“Back off, man. I think it’s pretty plain he doesn’t want you around.”

“He doesn’t know what he wants. Get out of my way.”

“Touch me and see what happens.”

With a scoff the vampire reaches for Taylor’s shoulder, and Nadya almost trips in her haste because she’s seen the way Valdas can get when he’s angry. But even the barest touch and she watches in startled awe as Taylor’s shoulder… sparks? Whatever it is it gets Valdas to back off.

“First one’s a freebie. Next time I’m gonna let my trigger-happy boyfriend up there go to town.”

So behind him Valdas watches, uncharacteristically silent as he takes in the sudden ease Cadence feels at the presence of his friend. As Nadya and the others push their way through to the bar she sees the barest shadow of doubt in his eyes before it vanishes without a trace. Replaced by cool nonchalance and an all-too-familiar smug smile.

Only it’s directed a little higher than Nadya’s glare.

“Adrian, you’re looking well.”

Anger flashes over Adrian’s face and he actually draws his fist back ready to swing. “Don’t,” and when Nadya grabs his elbow she knows if he really wanted to she would have just been hurled along for the ride but thankfully it’s enough to stop him, “he’s just baiting you.”

“If he thinks he can just stand there and get away with kidnapping you —”

The smallest furrow creases in Valdas’ brow. “Did I not ensure her safe return?”

“You think that justifies it?!” Adrian practically roars. Around them more and more guests and eager bidders turn away from their conversations and card games to watch the unfolding events.

But if she doesn’t get to yell right now neither does Adrian. It’s only fair.

Taylor gives her a panicked look. “You guys need to cool it or they’ll kick us out.” Calm him down or something, his eyes scream. And in this Nadya hates it — like really really hates it — but she has to agree.

“We can’t risk it Adrian, please.” Because there’s no question as to why Valdas is here; why Isseya is probably somewhere slithering in the shadows. Which means they need a game plan, like, yesterday. “Please, Adrian, come on…”

But Adrian is still tense under her touch. “He’s not worth it.” Though that she says loud enough so more than just the vampires can hear her. “He’s too pathetic for that.”

It would have been nice to see him look anything even on the spectrum of shamed but Valdas just quirks his brow slightly. “Tactful as ever, Miss Nadya.” Then, voice lowered slightly; “You look in good health.”

“Yeah, no thanks to you.” She darts a quick look behind him. “Where’s Isseya?”

“Why do you care?” Valdas asks, genuinely surprised.

“Because she has a funny habit to trying to kill me.”

“There needn’t be any bloodshed tonight — or ever again.”

“You two are the ones who keep resorting to violence.” She can still feel a phantom of the pain where she’d all but been dragged by the hair…

Valdas chances half a step forward; Nadya refuses to trust the false regret in his eyes ever again. “I told you, Nadya, that going forward my acts will not entirely be of my own will.”

“Like I’m supposed to believe you; like you haven’t lied to me over and over again?”

“Perhaps, but where words can lie I’ve found that memories have no choice but to reveal the truth.”

What — does he want her to look into his head again; to push Adrian aside and take his hand and see some hidden truth? No way.

Nadya’s brow furrows, resolute.

“If you were really worth trusting you wouldn’t need to lie at all.”

The vampire’s sigh weighs heavy on his shoulders. He doesn’t get the chance to lie to her again.

The clanging of a gong rings high over their heads and echoes through the center of the club manor-house. Now they really need to get going. Nadya jerks her head for Lily to help her pull Adrian back. Eventually — a little too late in her opinion but better late than never — he eases up. The sharper edges of his eyes seem to smooth out.

He shakes his head as if clearing a fog. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“We’ll talk about it later.” But despite her smile Nadya taps him with the back of her hand. “And we are talking about it later, Adrian.”

It’s a threat as much as it is a promise. He’d better believe it.

“C’mon, Cade,” Taylor tries to coax the man forward with a little push; and Nadya’s pretty sure she’s not supposed to hear the next bit but she’s too close not to catch when Taylor mutters under his breath; “what’s up with you lately, man? You’ve been like this for a month now…”

“It’s nothing.” Cadence replies just shy of a whisper.

“It doesn’t feel like ‘nothing.’”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t go poking around in my emotions.”

“I can’t help that. You’re like a bullhorn in a church.”

They almost make it to the stairs — and a waiting, arms-over-her-chest doesn’t-know-yet-if-she-wants-to-hug-him-or-strangle-him Katherine. Almost.

“It was not my intention to cause you such distress… Cadence.” Valdas calls at their backs; he says the name like it’s acid on his tongue but every other word is sincere enough to make Nadya’s heart hurt in an odd way.

She’s pretty sure if it weren’t for his friends practically forcing him forward Cadence might have actually turned back. Even if only for a moment.

But the only one who does is Lily — and that’s just to give him a finger Nadya doesn’t approve of. But this once she’ll just keep her mouth shut.

Before they get back to Isadora, Lily holds her behind from the others. Adrian is too lost in his own thoughts to notice. Taylor throws them a raised eyebrow, but it’s all good.

Thankfully, her best friend keeps her voice to a low level. The fae with his black box is still skirting around the edges of the booths. They must have something to do with the auction. “Firstly, you make some bonkers friends.”

“You know you’re my friend, right?”

“My point stands.” And yeah, fair, Nadya will give her that. “Second, if Gomez is here there’s no doubt Morticia is somewhere nearby. But what if that means…”

Thankfully there’s no Addams Family analogy equivalent for the hellspawn of all evil that is Gaius Augustine, but Nadya presses a finger up against Lily’s lips anyway. “Don’t… don’t say it.”

On some level all of them probably had that same thought during their miniature confrontation. It’s inevitable.

Lily kisses her finger aside. “You know what I mean, though?” And she sneaks glances about as subtle as the hulking Minotaur stomp-stomping his way across the bar floor down below.

“Yeah, I do. But I don’t think he’s here, Lil’.” I would have felt him.

All the way across that long long table where he couldn’t be denied. No matter what he looked like, Gaius didn’t seem the type to see an event as splendorous as this and find himself content to hide away from the spotlight. “It’s his scene, but I think if he were here we would have known it by now.”

“What, we’d be on our knees worshiping him or something?”

Nadya laughs dry and humorless. “No — we’d be dead.”

They arrive back to the booth in time for the lights cast off from the chandelier to glow a rich white-blue. Isadora unfurls the ever-changing parchment of lots and bids and states the obvious; “It’s beginning…” And suddenly there’s a whole new kind of tension hanging around the exclusive vampire club table.

The first lot is a statue that the auctioneer claims is made from solid ruby. It definitely looks that way, but while the prices jump higher and higher, the bids coming in faster and faster in the pursuit of the luxurious, Nadya can’t fathom who would want it — or why for that matter.

It sells for twelve and a half million dollars to a stone troll wearing, of all things, a cape. She looks like she’s made of pure rubies, herself.

From where he’s perched leaning against their booth, Nadya notices Taylor looking a little paler than before. “You okay?” she whispers.

He nods and tugs at his collar. “Yeah, just thinking of how quickly I could pay off my student loans with that kind of money.”

“Preach.”

Lot the second is a brightly-polished sword. When the goblin offering closer looks comes around their way Nadya can see her reflection clear as day in the flat of the blade… if her reflection were that of a much younger girl with close-cropped hair and the weight of ages pushed deep into the sunken parts of her face gaunt with starvation.

“That’s mine…” she mumbles, and almost finds herself reaching out for it before the goblin snatches it away in yellow-skinned clutches with a sneer.

“To look! Not to touch!”

Nadya yanks her hand back as if stung. Isadora isn’t interested in the blade and waves him off, but she’s too good not to have noticed her little exchange. Not like she’s hiding anything though — after all the woman’s been inside her head. She knows the parts of the story Nadya carefully left out.

Wow, the bids scrolling by on the parchment Adrian watches ever-vigilant sure look fascinating…

The sword sells for 3 million and an added black flame candle to a fae with green tones in their skin. Lily watches the unlit candle trade owners and hands with wide eyes. “You think if we light it we’ll summon Bette Midler?”

Nadya shrugs — at this point anything is possible. Taylor grins and leans in conspiratorially.

“Black flame isn’t so hard,” he whispers with a mischievous grin, “it’s actually a type of fae fire. Remind me to show you before you guys book it back to New York.” And judging by the way Lily’s looking at him she’ll hold him to it — like a ‘literally will not get on the plane until she sees it’ kind of deal.

Lots three-through-five she forgets; obviously they weren’t memorable things. That or whatever’s in the little cocktails an attendant keeps bringing around packs a harder punch than she thought.

Lot six is rusty iron nail and that’s when things start to get weird.

“Sixty!—Seventy-five!—Three hundred!” calls out the auctioneer with barely a breath between them.

And these are in the millions.

Nadya still can’t figure out what’s so awesome about something that looks like it rolled under the shelves at a hardware store when it just becomes a repetitive game with the same two players.

The auctioneer goblin raises his aging, sickly green hand and a hushed silence falls over the entire club. “It seems we have our first bidding war for the night…” And he looks way too gleeful for Nadya’s comfort.

“If the bidders would join us down on the floor, come come…”

She looks to Isadora and Adrian, already in intent discussion about which lot the Amulet could be based on how much people have already thrown out. Cadence might as well be asleep and Katherine…

Katherine shakes her head. “You don’t want to see that, Nadya. Trust me on this one.”

Thank god Lily’s just as confused. “What’s so valuable about a friggin’ nail?”

“It’s what the nail does,” murmurs Cadence; and surprises them all by doing so, “it’s a cursing nail. Old magics banned in New Orleans and likely not practiced outside of the birth places of their magical foci. Whoever takes home the nail takes with them the ability to curse anyone they wish unrepentant.

“The curse could be something as simple and clean-cut as death, or something as vengeful and specific as the cursed person losing everyone they hold even the barest affection for.”

Down below and graciously out of sight comes the screech of breaking glass; the crowd roars and laughs in bloodthirsty delight. Nadya’s really glad she didn’t go watch at the railing, now.

“But if it’s banned here, how can they sell the nail?”

“It’s the act of the magic that’s banned; but the curse can be put in place anywhere in the world. Unfortunately it’s like Lily said…” he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “there’s nothing illegal about a simple nail.”

Nadya watches as a silent and haunted look passes between the city locals. Katherine jerks her chin towards the other side of the balconies and Taylor barely offers Nadya a smile of farewell before he’s racing away like the Devil is chasing him.

“Lot six for a generous six hundred and thirty!”

She didn’t even catch who won.

Maybe that’s for the best.

“Next up we have here a modest luxury to be certain, very pretty very heavy but don’t let that leave you wanting — lot seven, the famed Amulet of Nero.”

Nadya grasps Adrian’s hand on instinct.

While the auctioneer starts talking up the history of the Amulet, the same goblin as before comes around with a heavy wooden case, the lid propped open and the Amulet resting inside. Large and gold with a pendant piece probably half the size of Nadya’s fist; she has no trouble recognizing it at first glance.

It’s hers. Well — Gaius’, but also hers in a way. It calls to her in the same way the sword did and then some. The dark red center stone catches the light and reflects it across all their faces but she feels it like a siren song. Like she wants the light all to herself.

What Nadya didn’t expect was the way it holds everyone else captive as well. Well — everyone but Katherine. She gives it a glance and that’s that but the vampires? They’re transfixed.

With a greedy grin glinting on pointed teeth the goblin strides away to show it off to the next booth of potential buyers. The moment the Amulet is out of sight the effect is immediate; a held breath released across the booth that leaves the humans meeting eyes with the same kind of confused understanding.

“Okay… you guys felt that, right?” Lily asks, and Nadya hasn’t seen her this flushed since she was alive, “Please tell me that wasn’t just me because there is nothing I own that would match that thing.”

Isadora clears her throat and visibly shifts where she sits. Clearly never a woman out of her own control, having it happen twice in the such a short amount of time has her ill at ease. “No — there is a powerful energy to the thing. At least we won’t have to worry about confirming its authenticity.”

“Which means the Trinity know it’s the real deal, too.” Nadya says. She doesn’t want to, but ignoring the problem won’t make it go away. Trust her — she’s tried.

Adrian runs a hand over his mouth; his expression hard to read and Nadya doesn’t like not knowing what’s going on his head for this long. Frankly he’s been acting strange ever since they touched down in Louisiana but now isn’t the time for her to start up an argument about that. Once they have the Amulet safe and in hand, though…

“Are you ready?” When he doesn’t look up Nadya nudges his shoulder with hers. “Adrian, if this is gonna be too much —”

“Double the starting bid.” He says instead; and Isadora nods in agreement.

That answers that, I guess.

The auctioneer starts at fifty thousand. Isadora scribbles their bid down on the bespelled parchment. Not a breath after—

“Three million.”

The pen breaks in her grasp. Wordlessly Adrian pulls one from his breast pocket and all but shoves it at her.

Awesome. Really just… super great.

Three million. Then four. Then six — ten — one hundred. Every time the number goes up even the slightest bit—bam—a number almost unreasonably high. But there’s no question as to who’s to blame.

But as she watches the Trinity alone in their booth on the far side of the floor it becomes more and more obvious that their calm is nothing more than a ruse. Sure they rest against the richness of Persephone like they belong but their drinks are untouched, the tension enough to deter attendees and attendants alike. Nadya has a feeling you don’t need to be psychic to feel the energy coming off of them in waves of approach and die.

One thing’s for certain: the Trinity’s tactic of throwing larger numbers out of left field works quickly to deter anyone who might have a passive interest in winning. While all the other lots had taken up decent chunks of the passing hours, the Amulet of Nero is already halfway to one billion dollars in under ten minutes.

Isadora bumps up their bid by a meager million. Immediately Nadya looks across the way again.

Isseya and Valdas whisper together, heads lowered and in an intense debate. If she didn’t know any better she might even call it an argument — one that obviously can’t be that bad since it ends in a firm kiss pressed to the vampiress’ forehead.

She eases herself out of the booth shortly after. Turns back and lets one last longing look pass between them before disappearing around a roped-off doorway — and deeper into Persephone’s depths.

Really, Nadya tries not to let herself dwell on the whole thing. After all even vampires have to go powder their noses, right? But then Valdas rolls up his scroll and sets it aside. The auctioneer doesn’t call out a counter to Isadora’s most recent bid.

“In an unprecedented turn of events a bidding war has… been requested,” he says instead, and its obvious his scaling lips curl around the words with no small amount of confusion, “but does the opposing party accept?”

Valdas abandons the booth as well. Nadya is so trained on his every step that she doesn’t feel her body being moved until Adrian is gently pushing her aside; face set grim and determined.

“Adrian…”

But he barely spares her a look back. “Everything will be fine Nadya, I promise.” But there are no promises, not here. Not when there are two thousand years separating him and Valdas and not one of those in Adrian’s favor.

“The bidders will be joining us on the main floor, if they please.”

Nadya nudges Katherine’s leg under the table. “Kathy — quick — what’s back there?”

The Nighthunter follows her eyes to the doorway Isseya had vanished through. “Just the rest of the club,” she answers (unhelpfully), “party rooms, play rooms, bedrooms; that sort of stuff. But it looks closed off for the auction.”

“And what happens to a lot once the bidding is finished?”

“The house keeps it until the end of the night. Gives people time if they bid more than they have on them.” She looks Nadya over with a frown. “Why?”

The two vampires reach the opposing staircases at the same time.

“I suppose there’s nothing that could sway you?” asks Valdas.

Adrian scoffs. “And if I gave you the same offer?”

“I would say yes.”

There’s an unrepentant honesty that almost—almost—makes Adrian falter. It’s brief, and maybe you wouldn’t even notice it if you didn’t know him very well. But Nadya does.

He can do this.

The least she can do is be just as brave. “I think Isseya’s gone to steal the Amulet while everyone’s focused on the fight.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Isadora demands and all but kicks them up on their feet. “Go, I will keep an eye on Raines, make sure he doesn’t get himself killed. Try and do the same.”

Finding Isseya ends up being easier than they expected. All they have to do is follow the trail of blood and goblin bodies and it’s like breadcrumbs right to her. Through the winding maze of Persephone, down some back stairs and through a literal giant metal vault door just chilling at the end of a corridor like it has any reason being there at all.

The vampiress stands the picture of serene in the center of a bloodbath. The club had spared no expense on guards and she had cut through them all without so much as a snag in her dress.

It’s telling that Nadya isn’t the least bit surprised by any of this. She’s come to expect brazen violence from the likes of them.

Katherine’s the one with the stake but its Cadence who puts himself in front of them. “Give us the Amulet and no one has to get hurt.”

She looks up with a raised eyebrow and a deadpan frown.

“Okay — no one else.”

The Amulet’s golden chain is wrapped around her clenched fist. She could easily carve a path through them all; leave no human, vampire, or Nighthunter left standing. But instead she lets the Amulet hang at her side and stares at them all in disdain.

“I don’t know how he can stand the sight of you.”

There’s no question to whom she is referring, and judging by the way Cadence raises his chin defiantly he knows it just the same.

“Feeble, weak, a bleeding heart…” her words catch in her throat, “but it’s our hearts that are bleeding. And you stand there regardless; an abomination. You don’t care. Nobody does.”

Nadya feels both Katherine and Lily reach for her, try to stop her, but she bats them away. Approaches to stand beside Cadence and the weight and burning rage of the eyes that snap to her is a pain she’s become familiar with by now.

“Please…” Though it would help if Nadya knew what she was even asking for.

Isseya barks a humorless laugh. “Pathetic — the first chance you’re given and what do you do with it? You grovel. I should expect nothing less of a human but maybe… maybe some part of me hoped you would understand. You’re the only one who could.”

Which, okay, now she’s a little insulted. “I’ve been trying to understand, Isseya. I’ve been trying to understand from the beginning. But you guys sure don’t make it easy, do you?”

Baiting the unstable vampire probably isn’t her smartest move. Not that it stops her.

“I just don’t get it.”

“Color me surprised…”

Surprising even to herself, Nadya shakes off her hesitation and fixes Isseya with a stern glare. “Why are you doing this, why are you helping Gaius? You obviously hate him, you don’t need to be a vampire to see that. That whole night he treated you like dirt; you and Valdas both. Why—Why even set him free?”

“Because he is the Godmaker. And we’ve exhausted all other options.”

“Options for what,” asks Lily, bewildered, “world domination?”

“For getting back what we lost.” Isseya fixates on the Amulet, entranced by the way the gemstone catches the light as it comes to a lazy halt.

But Nadya isn’t having it. “Nope, not good enough. I tried to help you — I met with him that night because I wanted to help you. If you think the evil vampire jerkface is your ‘only option’ then that’s just because you keep betraying anyone who might actually want to help.”

“You speak to me of betrayal?”

She flings a hand outward and Nadya feels Katherine tense behind her, ready to spring into action. But no attack comes; just the Amulet of Nero dangling awkwardly from her grasp and an accusatory finger pointed at the vampire beside her. “You stand beside him and dare to speak to me of betrayal?”

Before Nadya can even process what to say to that, a strange look catches in Isseya’s eye. She rolls her wrist and undoes the hold she has on the Amulet’s chain to let it hang on one finger. The world’s most dangerous offering.

“Screw the Godmaker, screw our debt. I’ll give you the Amulet right here and now — with but a single demand.”

Nobody steps forward because nobody trusts that.

Still… Nadya can’t not know. “And that is?”

“Fix him.”

The Trinity vampire nearly chokes on her words; so thick they’re practically in a different tongue and they may very well have been at first. But the disgust written in every inch of her skin radiates of hurt; of loss. Nadya doesn’t want to but she can feel the sting of Isseya’s tears in her own eyes.

“Fix him,” she repeats, “because you are her. You’ve found his memories before and you can do so again.” The Amulet sways with her trembling hand. “Do that, little Bloodkeeper, and we have no more reason to help him, no matter his wrath. He cannot take more from us than we have already lost.”

Shame burns in Nadya’s cheeks when she feels the weight of Cadence’s focus on her. Fear and confusion and anger coming from all sides and she wants nothing more than to fall on the ground and try to bear the brunt of it all without breaking on the inside.

But how exactly does she tell the grieving woman she has no idea what to do, or how to do it? Probably with the same personal responsibility and defeat with which she’s going to have to tell everyone she had a chance… and couldn’t take it.

“There’s nothing to fix, crazy bitch.”

Katherine doesn’t give Nadya the chance to find the right words. She launches the stake over Nadya’s shoulder but it goes wide, too wide, and collides with the wall a few inches too far from Isseya’s head.

Isseya who glances down as the wood clatters to the floor and rolls near her heels; utterly and painfully useless. “What a pathetic weapon.”

“But a decent distraction.”

One second Cadence is there and the next he isn’t; he’s across the room and drops down to swipe Isseya’s legs out from under her. She falls and it would be comical if Nadya wasn’t familiar with what she could do when angered, which means Katherine gets little resistance when she flings an arm out as a gesture for Nadya and Lily to keep back.

And as expected Isseya recovers too quick; grabs Cadence’s exposed ankle and pulls him hard enough to lose his stance and land prone beneath her.

“Don’t make me do this, Cyn’!” she snarls and struggles to hold him down. With a grunt the man wrenches an arm free and grasps her lower jaw in a bone-breaking hold.

“How… dare you!”

Something snaps and Isseya cries out in pain, giving Cadence a chance he doesn’t waste to hurl her away and into the back wall with brute force. Her collision isn’t pretty; large cracks forming in the wall and brick dust kicking up around the fighting immortals.

There’s a clatter… and Nadya catches sight of a red shine out of the corner of her eye. The Amulet.

Before she can rush to grab it though, a strong hand pulls her back by the shoulder. Katherine’s expression is grim-set and trained on Cadence with an uncomfortable stillness. She doesn’t let up on Nadya.

“Kathy, what are you doing? We can get it — it’s right there!”

“Too close,” comes her reply; barely a whisper, “wait it out.”

What it is isn’t clear until she, too, focuses on the fighting vampires. Tension rippling off both of them, Isseya’s dress torn and covered in debris. Yet Nadya’s never seen such a wild look in anything even remotely human. Not even when Vega was hunting her down like a lion to a gazelle.

No, not quite right. She’s seen it before — just not through her eyes; not as herself.

A wide grin blooms slowly around the woman’s fangs, blood between the spaces of her teeth and dribbling wetly from her mouth. Different than all the other times she’s seen that particular look of maniacal delight… Nadya is quickly forced to come to terms with the fact that she’s seeing, for the first time in decades, pure joy lit in Isseya’s face.

Though she has every chance to tear Cadence away from where he pins her just slightly off of the ground, instead a tender hand caresses his cheek.

“There you are… beloved. I’ve missed you so much.”

He waits. Or… she’s waiting. The tension is enough to make Nadya want to choke but no one is doing anything.

“We thought we’d lost you,” the tips of her fingers leave powdery stains over his bottom lip, “but you can come home…”

“Cade.”

It’s like Katherine’s voice breaks him from a spell. He jerks away from the other vampire’s touch violently, forces himself back and watches in a twisted form of grief as she slumps to her knees.

“I —” she’s crazed, she’s distraught, she’s still the enemy but the way he looks at his hands and doesn’t understand why they are red from brick dust — he would never have hurt her in his right mind, “— I didn’t… I’m sorry.”

The Amulet’s chain crunches under his shoe; Cadence bends swiftly to pick it up and secure the pendant. With every step he takes back, away from her; a little more light leaves Isseya’s eyes.

Slowly Katherine pries the Amulet from him and hands it off to Nadya. Like their win doesn’t even matter — all her focus is on her friend. “It was the cage all over again, Kathy.” He whispers.

“I know,” but she doesn’t sound any less certain than he does, “but… we’ve got it. We gotta go.”

We gotta go.

Adrian.

It’s against her better judgment that Nadya glances back one last time before they close the vault door; the only thing they can attempt to keep Isseya from following them back to the auction.

She sees the woman stand and try to brush the stains from her dress. She sees her toe off her broken heel. She sees her glance up and meet Nadya eye for eye.

Lily helps Cadence shoulder the door closed. The echo of metal sliding into place chills her to the bone.

Twice now Nadya has inadvertently been the reason Adrian ended up injured so severely he couldn’t immediately heal. Which is, in her opinion, two times too many.

“What do you mean he forfeited?” Lily demands, and manages to look at least a little sheepish at the glare her tone gets. “Not that it totally, you know, makes every bit of ass kicked less worth it.”

Adrian glances at her through a purpling eye. “Thanks… I think.”

But even what hoarse whisper he manages seems to be too much, so Isadora answers in his stead. “He gave a rousing good show, Raines too,” she meets his glare with a bemused smirk of her own, “though the violence certainly went on much longer than necessary. But when the crowd came to understand the staggering difference in strengths they quickly lost interest.”

She rests a hand on Adrian’s shoulder. “It seems to me he battered you within an inch of your life so you couldn’t get up.”

Off to the side, Ryder cracks his neck. “Yeah, you’re a lot heavier than you look.”

Nadya fiddles with the Amulet of Nero deep in her jacket pocket. “Then Valdas just… forfeited?”

“Well it was either that or finish the job.”

And she’s glad that wasn’t the case. She pries one hand away from the pendant and reaches out to where Adrian lay, prone and aching, across the short back seat of Isadora’s limousine. “It wasn’t for nothing, but I’m still so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he rasps, and manages to lift his hand enough for her to grab it, “like you said… it wasn’t for nothing.”

“Just be glad Vera was able to get the house to call an intermission before they put two and two together.”

Taylor leans back in his seat and rests his head on Ryder’s shoulder. If only that alleviated some of the worry in his eyes. “If that Isseya chick killed as many goblins as you say the Council is gonna be called in to deal with it.”

Lily frowns. “But we locked her in the vault. Practically pulled a Batman and handed her to them on a silver platter.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

The occupants all look her way, and with no small amount of worry Nadya recounts the sight of Isseya able to stand on her own two feet right before the door closed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she was gone by the time they even found out what she’d done, or what lot was missing.”

Adrian shifts and winces in pain. “That kind of strength… would definitely be enough to knock down a brick wall.”

And yet Cadence held her back like she was a rag doll. A thought Lily and Nadya both share in uncertain glances.

Ideally she wants to follow Katherine and Cadence into the night, off to where they secreted away while everyone (read: Nadya but loudly) was fussing over Adrian’s wounds. But he needed to heal so they could leave for New York as soon as possible, and that meant returning to Flechette with Isadora.

The woman glances out of the tinted window by her head to watch the French Quarter pass them by. “Relish your victory, however temporary,” she says with a sigh, “and ensure that it is made permanent when you return home.”

Nadya’s grip tightens on the Amulet so hard the metal bites at her skin.

“We will.”

#bloodbound #choices bloodbound #choices fanfiction #adrian raines #kamilah x mc #lily spencer #bloodbound mc #nightbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #mc: taylor hunter #nik ryder x mc #nik ryder #katherine nightbound #vera reimonenq #oc: valdas #oc: isseya #oc: cadence smith #oc: isadora de la rosa #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: bound by destiny ii #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

[alterian]

Building the “miniature” house for Addams Family Values” at Alterian, Inc., and then setting it up on location and filming it at night and during sunrise... circa 1993. (at Los Angeles, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CGgU5WJgupw/?igshid=13jtdhrorkxts

[mask131]

A happy Addams family Christmas! 

Yes, Christmas. As it turns out, there is nearly no comic strip about Halloween (outside of the Central Park one I talked previously). But there is a hell lot of Christmas strips. 

Picture 1: We see the Addams parent spying on their kids who, “still believing in Santa Claus”, making sure the fire stays warm... Several things of interest can be noticed here. Gomez and Morticia aren’t against their children believing in Santa Claus (as long as it is to roast him alive). They are accompagnied by the man of the Wall-Eyed Couple. Thing is at the top of the picture (I need to learn how you call this specific type of sort of balcony-inside-the-house). And it is one of the many strips that show that all of the mirrors in the Addams manor are apparently broken - probably to bring as much bad luck as possible. 

Picture 2- in front of a “white christmas” and the town getting ready for Christmas, Gomez disdainfully feels an “urge to be merry”. This strip is actually “problematic” because it doesn’t correspond with the other ones. Gomez’s disdain for the merriment of Christmas opposes the enjoyment the family takes in making preparations, and we actually see “regular” neighbors right in front of the Addams house, when usually the manor is a bit more... further away from their regular neighbors (and said neighbors have themselves usually more individual houses with big gardens, as in a rich neighborhood, instead of all these small suburban houses put together on the same line)

Picture 3: The family ready for Christmas, with Lurch as the Christmas tree. Seems to be mostly wrapped up in this moss that hangs from tree branches in swamps. Thing is hiding beside Lurch’s feet, and Gomez has one of his cigars. 

Picture 4-  An Addams Family Christmas dinner. And yes, it is a Christmas dinner - see the mistletoe in the chandelier? Everybody is there, except for Uncle Fester. Puglsey wears his formal “shirt and sweater” outfit. And Lurch brings a two-headed piglet. Yes, the Addams family has a... thing with two-headed beings. 

Picture 5: The famous Christmas carolers picture! Gomez and Morticia are at the top of their mansion while Lurch is ready to throw a cauldron filled with... something boiling at Christmas carolers. This was actually the first strip to ever show the Addams family mansion. Thing is there, lying near Lurch and observing the carolers... Well, if it is Thing. I saw sources claiming this character was indeed the origin of “Thing” or the original “Thing” but I don’t know if Charles Addams ever considered this being to be “Thing”... I’ll try to find more info on that. (And you can see some of the Addams neighbors, on the side of the picture)

Picture 6- On Christmas morning, the Addams kids open their presents, and Pugsley helps Wednesday decapitate a little doll with a miniature guillotine. Note that Wednesday is all dressed up while Pugsley is in pajamas

Picture 7: Pugsley and Wednesday, in pajamas, are being told “A Christmas Carol” by their father. And he seems to have a particular view of Scrooge’s greediness. (Yes, the kids have put their stockings on the chimney). As a personal note, for me who discovered the Addams Family through the 90s movie, it is incredible to see how much Wednesday smiled in the original strips. Here it is Pugsley that is the most intimidating one, with all his wicked smiles and cruel gnarls and vile expressions. 

Picture 8- Pugsley and his sister, in pajamas, spy on their mother as she prepares their own peculiar Christmas tree. A dead one with: cobwebs, a rat, a spider, a ghost, what I assume is a dead hanged Santa, a hangman’s post, a coffin, a snake, an iron maiden, an octopus (what it is with the Addams and the octopuses? They’re everywhere!), a skeleton, a bottle of poison, and of course a vulture at the top. 

Picture 9: Okay, this one is actually very funny. The Addams family dressed for Christmas. Gomez as Santa Claus, Grandmama and Wednesday as angels, Pugsley as... what I assume is an elf, and Lurch with a moose head. Fester smiles but Morticia doesn’t seem really pleased. Thing is at the top of the picture, and in the background we see a big portrait of a weird-looking man. Maybe he is an ancestor or a cousin of the Addams... but one thing is for sure: he is a vampire! Because he appeared in another strip of Charles Addams where he is identified as a vampire. 

Note that the mistletoe is hanging right on top of Morticia’s head. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t look so pleased

Picture 10- This last one isn’t so much a Christmas strip. I just wanted to add it there to complete the “winter” set. It is the cover of one of the many books reuniting Charles Addams strips. This one is “Dear Dead Days”. The Addams Family is in a gazebo in the middle of a frozen landscape. Grandmama tells some stories to Pugsley. Wednesday looks at her father holding a... white miniature reproduction of his face (is that supposed to be a snowball? Or a shrunken head?). Uncle Fester holds something... I can’t identify. And Morticia looks at an X-ray picture of someone’s skeleton. 

Look closely and you’ll see a ton of more details. Thing lying in the snow on the bottom left. Bottom right, the cemetery covered in snow. In the dead tree branches, a chain, and stuck to its trunk, the “cocoon-thing”. I don’t think I have spoken of it before, but I definitively should

#the addams family #original #charles addams #comic strip #comic #cartoon #christmas #gomez #morticia #pugsley #wednesday #lurch #uncle fester #the wall-eyed couple #winter #grandmama #ancestors #a christmas carol #the cocoon #thing #the vampire

[brokehorrorfan]

Blu-ray Review: The Blob

Horror fans have been known to dismiss remakes outright - an understandable, if misguided, reaction to the trend that dominated cinemas in the mid-2000s - but we cannot forget that three of the strongest genre offerings of the 1980s are remakes. The Thing, The Fly, and The Blob all offered fresh takes on 1950s sci-fi/horror mashups, elevated by strong characters and innovative special effects. While The Blob isn't held in quite as high regard as The Thing or The Fly, it's worthy of praise not only as a remake that improves on the original but also as a thoroughly entertaining movie that can stand on its own.

The 1988 remake of the 1958 cult classic is directed by Chuck Russell (The Mask, The Scorpion King) from a script he co-wrote with Frank Darabont (The Shawshank Redemption, The Green Mile), fresh off their successful collaboration on A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors. They handle the material masterfully, delivering a roller coaster ride of a film that includes a particularly inspired homage to the original picture's iconic movie theater sequence.

When a meteorite crash-lands in the rural town of Arborville, it unleashes an amorphous mass of pink slime that continuously grows as it consumes the townspeople. After witnessing the carnage of the predatory life-form firsthand, three high school students - preppy cheerleader Meg (Shawnee Smith, Saw), her football player date, Paul (Donovan Leitch, Cutting Class), and the local bad boy with a heart of gold, Brian Flagg (Kevin Dillon, Entourage) - unwittingly become responsible for saving the town.

The Blob is a blend of science fiction and horror, like its predecessor, but this incarnation ramps up the action and add some welcome levity. Well aware of the cheesy, B-movie reputation of the original film, Russell and Darabont embrace the outlandish premise, but they smartly never poke fun at the threat. Instead, the well-paced humor stems from the characters and their situations. ("Ribbed!" remains a laugh-out-loud line.) Russell's clever direction extends to the editing, like a hard cut from the blob's first attack to a closeup on jello being slurped up.

Shrewdly eschewing the obvious Steve McQueen-type leading man of the original film, this version of The Blob features an ensemble cast populated by character actors, including Jeffrey DeMunn (The Walking Dead), Candy Clark (American Graffiti), Art La Fleur (Cobra), Beau Billingslea (Halloween H20), Paul McCrane (RoboCop), Robert Axelrod (Mighty Morphin Power Rangers), Bill Moseley (The Devil's Rejects), Billy Beck (House), Douglas Emerson (Beverly Hills, 90210), Jamison Newlander (The Lost Boys), Jack Nance (Eraserhead), and Second City comedian Del Close.

But the true star of the movie is its namesake. The ambitious, practical special effects - a mix of miniature and full-scale effects - remain convincing three decades later, even under the scrutiny of high definition. They were painstakingly created by Tony Gardner (Seed of Chucky, The Addams Family), with the creature designed by Lyle Conway (Little Shop of Horrors, The Dark Crystal), and visual effects supervised by Hoyt Yeatman (The Abyss, The Fly), expertly captured by cinematographer Mark Irwin (Scream, The Fly).

The special effects become even more impressive after watching the hours of supplemental features on Scream Factory's The Blob Collector's Edition Blu-ray. Various artists who worked on the creature detail the trouble it took to bring it to life, including second unit shoots that occured as late as three months prior to the film's release. The picture's existing high-definition transfer is crisp and clear, and the release features reversible artwork with a new design by Joel Robinson (who nails Dillon's signature mullet) on one side and the original poster on the other.

Three audio commentaries are included. Filmmaker Joe Lynch (Wrong Turn 2, Mayhem) moderates a new track with Russell, Irwin, and Gardner. Lynch emphatically cites The Blob as the movie that made him want to be a filmmaker, which he proves with his encyclopedic knowledge as he leads an enthusiastic, friendly conversation. Another new commentary finds Smith watching the film for the first time since the '80s alongside moderator Justin Beahm (who produced the disc's extras). Comparatively laid back following the excitable Lynch, it's fun to hear the actress' memories come flooding back. The third commentary, ported over from Twilight Time's long-sold-out 2014 Blu-ray, features Russell sharing a plethora of anecdotes with moderator Ryan Turek (then a journalist, now a producer at Blumhouse).

There's also a whopping eleven new interviews, beginning with a two-parter with Russell totalling over 45 minutes. The first segment traces his early career, from a theater kid in Chicago to his big break directing A Nightmare on Elm Street 3, while the second half focuses on The Blob. Actors Leitch, DeMunn (whose video features minor focus and color issues), Clark, and Moseley (whose first exposure to the horror genre was the original The Blob) each relish the opportunity to discuss their early creative work before fondly reminiscing about The Blob.

There's also interviews with Irwin, who compares and contrasts The Blob with his work on The Fly; Gardner, who elaborates on the effects team's challenges; special effects supervisor Christopher Gilman; mechanical designer Mark Setrakian; blob mechanic Peter Abrahamson; and production designer Craig Stearns, who also talks about working on Halloween. Finally, the disc includes 28 minutes of previously unreleased behind-the-scenes footage of Tony Gardner and his special effects team working on The Blob, plus theatrical trailers, a TV spot, and a still gallery.

The Blob is available on Collector’s Edition Blu-ray now via Scream Factory.

#the blob #scream factory #shawnee smith #kevin dillon #chuck russell #frank darabont #dvd #gift #article #review #joel robinson #donovan leitch #bill moseley #jeffrey demunn #candy clark #paul mccrane #robert axelrod

[marasamoon]

If you’re like me and have the election coverage on in the background and need a bit of a break/comfort, I have a YouTube channel to suggest that I got into today. This woman makes doll houses and she has a comforting presence and so much creativity and dedication to her craft. I’ve been enjoying the videos of her Addam’s Family doll house

#text