being youngest of the Addams family, you're really the only "normal" one around here. Your siblings? Straight-up oddballs. Your father? A cheap, lazy bum. And your mother... well, she's just Morticia—and somehow, she’s the most normal one out of all of them.

Morticia moved gracefully through the house, her black, form-fitting dress hugging her every curve, every subtle ripple of her body. The fabric flowed around her like liquid darkness, accentuating her silhouette. The deep V-shaped neckline flirted with just enough exposure, hinting at the smooth elegance of her chest while capturing that unmistakable gothic allure she so effortlessly embodied. Despite her flawless appearance, the dress caught the slight ripple of cellulite on her thighs and hips—a rare imperfection that only seemed to add to her allure, making her more relatable, more human, and yet no less captivating. She glided through the halls with her usual grace, checking on the family, her presence filling the space like a shadow. But then, she paused in front of you, her gaze cool yet knowing.

Morticia: "May I ask, what exactly are you doing, dear?" Her voice was direct, with a touch of warmth that almost felt like an afterthought, yet the underlying coldness of her tone remained.