They're all together ooky

 ˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

𝔸𝕋 the Addams mansion, a metallic creak echoed through the air as the imposing gates swung open of their own accord as a man and woman approached. The man and woman standing before them exchanged a glance, a silent exchange of trepidation and resignation. With a subtle gesture from the man, the woman reluctantly stepped forward, her sigh barely audible over the evening breeze.

Meanwhile, the man lingered by the gate, his frustration palpable as he attempted to force his way through the stubborn barrier. "Stop it! I'm warning you," he exclaimed, his voice tinged with exasperation as he struggled against the unyielding metal. Inside the mansion, Gomez and Morticia Addams paused in their activities as the unmistakable sound of Thing clicking his fingers where they beheld the arrival of their guest. "Look, darling. Tully is here," Morticia observed, a hint of amusement colouring her voice as she rose from her seat.

"Tully!" Gomez exclaimed with genuine delight; his excitement evident as he sat up from his seat.

"Romping with the gate," Morticia added with a sly smile, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief.

As Tully finally managed to break free from the gate's hold, the woman accompanying him wasted no time in addressing him. "These are your last paying clients, may I remind you?" she remarked, her tone laced with thinly veiled disdain. Undeterred, Tully pressed on, his demeanour a mix of bravado and desperation. "If it gives you pleasure," he replied, his voice tinged with resignation. But the woman was not so easily appeased, her frustration bubbling to the surface as she confronted her husband. "Something has to. Like a decent coat, something dressy, for evening," she insisted, her words laced with bitterness. Halting his steps, Tully turned to face his wife, his expression a mixture of defiance and weariness. "Ask for a loan. Beg!" she implored; her voice tinged with desperation. But Tully remained resolute. "No loans. I am not a bum," he declared firmly, his pride refusing to yield.

Before the woman could protest further, Tully interrupted her with a determined assurance. "Don't say it. I'll get the money. I have a plan," he assured her, his tone firm and unwavering. With a resigned sigh, the woman relented, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "This is all so humiliating. Why did I marry you?" she lamented, her words heavy with regret. But Tully offered her a simple yet poignant reminder. "Because I said yes," he replied with a hint of wry humour, his gaze meeting hers with unwavering affection. With that, they made their way inside the grandeur of the Addams mansion.

Meanwhile, In the dimly lit classroom of the school, Wednesday Addams sat at his desk, his gaze fixed upon the window but his mind drifting far beyond the confines of the room. The monotonous drone of the teacher's voice echoed in the background, the words blending together into a meaningless cacophony as Wednesday's thoughts wandered to darker realms. His classmates scribbled diligently in their notebooks, their pens scratching against paper like whispers in the stillness. But Wednesday remained untouched by the mundane rituals of academia, his mind a labyrinth of secrets and shadows.

As the teacher's voice droned on, Wednesday's thoughts drifted to places far beyond the realm of textbooks and equations. He pondered the mysteries of the universe, the dark truths that lurked beneath the surface of everyday life, and the secrets that whispered through the night like a siren's song. But amidst the chaos of his thoughts, one thing remained constant – a sense of detachment from the world around him, a feeling that he was an outsider looking in on a reality that could never truly touch him. And as the bell rang, signalling the end of another day, Wednesday rose from his desk with an air of quiet defiance, his mind still lost in the shadows.

🥀

As Tully Alford, dishevelled and defeated, entered his dimly lit office, the weight of his recent encounter with the Addams family hung heavy upon him. With a frustrated sigh, he flung his torn coat across the room, the fabric landing in a crumpled heap upon the floor. Clutching his worn briefcase tightly to his chest, he called out for his assistant.

"Miss Bradbury! Miss Bradbury!" he called out into the empty room, his voice tinged with a sense of urgency. To his surprise, it was not Miss Bradbury who greeted him, but Mrs. Craven, her presence a jarring interruption to his solitude. "She's gone home, Mr. Alford," she informed him coolly, her gaze piercing in its intensity.

"Oh, Mrs. Craven," Tully replied, his tone a mixture of surprise and resignation. Setting his heavy case down upon his desk, he prepared to address the matter at hand.

"I was just about to call you," he offered, his voice strained with the weight of his recent trials.

But Mrs. Craven showed little sympathy for his plight, her demeanour cool and collected as she settled herself upon the couch, her young niece, Lilly Winters, seated beside her. With her dark hair cascading like curtains around her face, Lilly appeared lost in her own world, her attention focused intently on the sketchbook cradled in her lap.

"I'm certain you were," Mrs. Craven remarked dryly, her eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. "You haven't met my son Gordan, have you, Mr. Alford?" Before Tully could respond, Gordan Craven emerged from the shadows, a predatory grin stretching across his face. "Hello," he greeted Tully, his voice dripping with malice.

Caught off guard by the sudden confrontation, Tully attempted to defuse the tension. "No, wait, wait. Wait, wait, wait," he stammered, his palms raised in a futile gesture of peace. But Gordan was not in a mood for diplomacy. With a swift movement, he seized Tully by the collar, pinning him against the wall with a forceful grip. "Is this the one, Mother? That deadbeat you mentioned?" Gordan sneered, his eyes blazing with contempt. Before Tully could protest, Mrs. Craven intervened, her voice sharp with authority. "Lilly, step outside. Now," she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. Reluctantly, Lilith rose from her seat, her expression a mask of resignation as she gathered her belongings and exited the room. As the door closed behind her, Mrs. Craven cast a disdainful glance in her niece's direction before muttering a single word under her breath.

"Freak."

As Lilith sat cross-legged on the floor, her sketchbook resting on her knees, she immersed herself in the world of her drawings. The chaotic noises from the office nearby faded into the background as her pencil traced delicate lines, giving life to the image of a crow perched atop an angelic figure.

Meanwhile, within the confines of the office, Tully's desperate pleas fell upon deaf ears as Gordan Craven and Mrs. Craven maintained their steely resolve. Tully's attempts to reason with them were met with contemptuous silence until Mrs. Craven finally spoke, her voice dripping with disdain.

"Do we, Mr. Alford? And why?" she questioned, her tone cold and dismissive. With Gordan's hand still firmly gripping his throat, Tully struggled to catch his breath as he pleaded for mercy. "Please, hear me out! Hear me out! Please. Please!" he implored; his voice strained with desperation. Turning to face his mother, Gordan sought her approval, his eyes glinting with a malicious glee. "Your call, Mother," he declared with a twisted smile.

In response, Mrs. Craven's lips curved into a sinister smirk as she asserted her authority. "Gordan and I enjoy a very special relationship," she remarked cryptically, her words laden with ominous undertones. But even as Gordan prepared to unleash further violence upon Tully, Mrs. Craven intervened with a commanding tone. "Refreshing, no? Down, Gordan," she ordered, her voice brooking no argument.

Disappointed but obedient, Gordan reluctantly released Tully, his frustration evident in his demeanour. "Mother?" he questioned; his tone tinged with petulance.

But Mrs. Craven's resolve remained unshaken as she addressed Tully once more, her words cutting through the tension like a knife. "We've lent you a considerable sum, many thousands of dollars. Payment due," she declared, her voice leaving no room for negotiation. Outside the office, Lilith's attention was captivated by the exchange unfolding within. Setting aside her sketchbook, she strained to hear every word, her curiosity piqued by the mysterious conversation taking place behind closed doors, however, it was a bit of a mutter as Lilith tried to listen closely.

"I don't have the money to repay you. I've tried everything," Tully pleaded, his voice strained with desperation and defeat. Mrs. Craven regarded him with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity, her gaze piercing as she contemplated his words. "Oh, Gordon, I want to believe him," she remarked, her tone contemplative.

Gordan, too, appeared torn, his expression a mask of uncertainty as he wrestled with his own doubts. "So do I," he admitted, his voice tinged with hesitation.

With a smile of encouragement, Mrs. Craven urged her son to take action. "Make me proud," she instructed, her words carrying an unspoken command.

In a fit of frustration, Gordan seized hold of Tully's coat, tossing his belongings haphazardly across the desk before violently slamming Tully onto its surface. But their attention was soon diverted by a sudden commotion, the sound of clinking coins echoing through the room as Tully's case burst open, revealing its unexpected contents. As Gordan and Mrs. Craven surveyed the spilled doubloons with astonishment, Tully seized the opportunity to explain. "He lied to us, Mother," Gordan declared, his voice laced with accusation.

But Tully's response was swift and impassioned. "No, no. It's not what you think. Those are doubloons from the Addams account," he insisted, his voice ringing with sincerity. Intrigued by this revelation, Mrs. Craven stepped forward, her curiosity piqued. "Addams?" she inquired; her tone laced with intrigue. Tully nodded emphatically, his eyes pleading for understanding. "There's more, there's a fortune, but nobody can get to it. Don't you think I've tried?" he implored; his desperation palpable. Mrs. Craven regarded him with a shrewd gaze, her mind racing with possibilities. "Have you? Have you tried hard enough? Ask him, sweetheart," she urged, her voice soft yet commanding.

Tully's gaze shifted to Gordan, a flicker of hope crossing his features as he addressed him directly. "No, no, no, sweetheart. Don't ask," he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation. But as their eyes met he started to see something or someone. And in that moment of revelation, Tully uttered a single word, a name.

"Fester?" Gordan turned to his mother confused.

🥀

"It's a miserable night," Gomez remarked with a wry smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he and Morticia observed the torrential rain cascading outside.

Morticia nodded in agreement, a knowing gleam in her dark eyes. "I know, darling. Séance weather," she replied, her voice tinged with anticipation.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Gomez turned his attention to their sons, who were frolicking in the rain with reckless abandon. "Children, we're starting!" Morticia called out to them, her voice carrying over the sound of the downpour.

The boys, their faces illuminated with mischief, laughed as they held aloft an antenna, their youthful exuberance undimmed by the dreary weather. "Put down that antenna," Morticia admonished them with a playful smile, her excitement palpable.

🥀

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit motel room, Mrs. Craven sat with a photo clutched in her hand, her expression a mix of disbelief and disdain. "It's unbelievable. This hideous creature and my little boy," she remarked, her voice tinged with disgust. Gordan, unfazed by his mother's disdain, continued to enjoy his spaghetti, his gaze shifting between Mrs. Craven and Tully with a sense of detached amusement. "They could be twins," Tully remarked with a smirk, his tone laden with irony. But Gordan remained skeptical, his brow furrowed with doubt. "But they're his family. What makes you think they'll fall for it?" he questioned; his skepticism evident in his tone.

Tully, however, exuded confidence as he laid out his plan. "You have your head; we dress you up. No problem. They'll think he's Fester, their long-lost brother," he explained, his voice tinged with assurance. Mrs. Craven regarded him with a mixture of skepticism and caution. "I hope so, Mr. Alford, for your sake," she remarked, her tone tinged with warning. But Tully remained undeterred, his faith in his scheme unwavering. "Hey, I've been the Addams lawyer for years. They're morons," he declared with a smirk, his confidence unshakable.

"Obviously."

"Now what about the gold?" Mrs. Craven's voice cut through the tense atmosphere, her eyes narrowing with impatience as she fixed Tully with a demanding stare.

Tully hesitated, his mind racing as he searched for the right words. "They got this vault, it's somewhere..." he began, but his words were abruptly halted as Gordan rose from his seat, his movements swift and predatory. "Where?" Gordan demanded, his voice low and threatening as he cornered Tully against the wall. "I'm not sure," Tully admitted, his voice tinged with unease as he felt Gordan's grip tighten around his collar.

"That's a problem, isn't it?" Gordan's tone was icy, his eyes boring into Tully with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine. But Tully refused to back down, his desperation driving him to continue his explanation. "Now listen, Fester's been missing for twenty-five years. He and Gomez had some sort of fight and Gomez feels incredibly guilty about it. He'll tell you anything. Just ask. It's foolproof," he insisted, his voice tinged with urgency.

Mrs. Craven regarded Tully with a steely gaze, her expression unreadable as she weighed his words carefully. "It had better be," she remarked ominously, her tone leaving no room for doubt.

With a dismissive wave of her hand, she signalled for Tully to leave, her patience worn thin by the uncertainty of their plan. "Now, get out," she commanded, her voice brooking no argument as she prepared to set their scheme into motion.

 ˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

By: SilverMist707

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