normalize your villains. writing wise. i think everyone knows villain behavior irl would get you a ticket straight to the highest security prison out there. but this is about building a fictional world. for context, i've recently been on a rewatch for the show once upon a time and this time, i've tried to stay impartial to the characters storylines. the villains seems irredemable in the first season and frankly, i'm disappointed that this changes. hear me out !!!!!
my version of wednesday addams is for the most part chaotic neutral. wherever the current sails, she'll follow. sure, wednesday has the potential to grow and have (somewhat) healthy relationships in her life, but at the end of the day, she's not a hero. she's not even the anti-hero. sometimes it plays out like that and she might look the part, but she's not good goddammit.
for the crimes that she've committed? guilty as charged. for all the people she had hurt? guilty as charged. for all the misery she'll cause others? you guessed it, guilty as fucking charged. i'm not going to water her down.
in my mind, the addamses were always the outliers, but with the bestest of intentions. morticia and gomez welcomed vile strangers into their homes and tried their very best to make them feel comfortable in their home. they have a skewed perception for the world, something that's unusual, morbid, downright grotesque. edgar allan poe, which netflix glorified and here i am doing a shoutout to train my beloved, would tremble had he known of the addamses. morticia and gomez are kind, in their way. but you know who never really was?
their kids. in the comics (both by the og author and some others icr the author, but more closer to our time), pugsley was the devil incarnate. he showed no remorse, he was clearly thrilled by the suffering he caused others. but i suppose the directors changed the storyline and made wednesday the brand new puglsey in the 90s movies. she showed no emotion, she was a okay with murdering her own, even if she knew as luck as it, their younger brother pubert would live. this time around, wednesday was the devil incarnate.
and i agree with the canon, she can be incredibly intelligent and even more ruthless than she is intelligent. but one thing i've noticed is that, she notices her parents being taken for granted. she is aware that others will use morticia and gomez's kindness against them. sure, they can take it, that's their thing after all. but wednesday noticed everything since she was a kid and she remembers.
and guess what?
just because someone went through hell and back (even if said hell is not the worst that could happen), that doesn't mean someone will come out kind and good. wednesday will forever doubt anyone in her life and she will push them away, just as she'll try to give them the world. but no matter the good she does, at the end of the day, she is the villain. it's not the addams family, it's just the kids and i say that because pugsley and pubert have the same rights as wednesday does.
at the end of the day, being evil after witnessing evil is okay. fiction wise, i feel like reminding. some characters are irredemable. just because they do good things sometimes that doesn't make them good. just like doing bad things sometimes doesn't make them bad. but here's the catch with the addamses. they always, always own up who they are. wednesday no exception to the rule.
wednesday, the villain, can do good things. she can save your muse, she can enjoy your muse's company, she can love your muse. but all of this, all the good things do come from a villain. did she deserve the awful treatment she and her family got in canon? of course not, that we can all agree on. but it doesn't matter what happened, what matters is what choices they make afterward. wednesday will always choose herself. wednesday doesn't pick good, she willingly chooses evil.
sure, a villain is capable of love. a villain is capable of both good and bad. but look at how it always ends. wednesday is a villain and she will suffer, your muse too if you dare to come too close. it's not fair, i know. but this is just my theory, vero's theory. and, you may expect it by now,
please, normalize your villains.
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Kintsukuroi
'What if I put a clock pendulum in my torso' was the sort of question Bruce had come to expect when visiting Oracle.
"Pendulums are dependant on a stable base," he replied, because the last time he'd assumed they were being unserious Tim had tried to fit a chemistry test lab in his mouth and accidentally leaked the fumes through his mask.
"It'd be so aesthetic though," said Barbara, not looking up from the dozen screens she was surrounded by. "Listen. It would look so cool - Spoiler, robbery on fifth and main - Especially if I put a clock face over my heart."
"I thought you were trying to fit a super computer in it?"
"I was, but progress is slow. It's hard to fit it and enough padding to protect it plus leave enough room for ventilation. If I add the pendulum I might at least get inspiration." She gave a heavy sigh and pushed away from the desk, gliding in her chair to where her doll body was resting on a table, the glue separating the two halves of the smashed torso still glistening. Bruce followed, peering over her at the many scanners and wires hooked into it, flashing and beeping.
"Any luck?" he asked, and they both knew he wasn't talking about the computer anymore.
"Nothing."
He squeezed her shoulder, and she leant into it. They stayed there for a long moment.
"I just don't understand!" Barbara finally burst out, hands clenching on her chair arms. "I glued nearly every single piece back together! I made sure every splinter I could find went exactly where it should! I know the contract is still there. She's worked with more missing pieces before. But she's just not responding!"
"It's not you," Bruce soothed. "You've more than enough determination and strength to puppet, and we know the human body's state doesn't affect performance."
"That's the thing!" Barbara threw her hands up angrily, nearly smacking Bruce in the face. There was a chatter over comms, and both reached for their own. "One second," she said tightly, and wheeled back into the glow of the monitors. "Copy. BW, you're nearest? Thanks. Try and avoid the sniper this time. Wing, backup is in five."
She muted again and spun around, pinning Bruce with a heavy stare. "Is there anything, anything you can think of? We've - nothing I've tried has worked."
"Well...." He trailed off, one hand coming up to rub at the chin of his mask - a quiet night meant the opportunity to forgo the practical but muffling gas mask for his favoured plain black.
It was far from the first time a doll had been horrifically damaged. The incident with Bane came to mind - Batman had been in a very similar condition, body shorn clean in two and tossed to opposite corners. It was an awful memory, but the expression on Bane and the audience's faces as his bloodless body fell apart like a rotting tree trunk and then kept moving was a silver lining he'd always treasure.
But he'd been repaired and back on his feet in weeks, if bearing the incandescent fury of the doll for several more. It had been months for Barbara, and still nothing was happening.
"There's something we're missing, and I doubt it's on your side."
"I know THAT-"
"Listen," he demanded, and her jaw clicked shut mutinously. "There's something we're not seeing. Batgirl is in no shape to demand it herself, it seems. So its inaction is something we can't fully rely on."
"You've got the most experience with the dolls of all of us. Can you.. I don't know, sense anything?"
"Nothing more than the usual, with the Patriarch Doll, but we might get more if we return to the doll house -"
"No." Barbara interrupted again, but Bruce did not take offence. "She's not going anywhere. She doesn't want to head back to the cave."
Oh?
"She doesn't want to, or she doesn't care to?"
"I say she doesn't."
Interesting. This was likely a case of the doll exerting its will. The bats were well versed in avoiding the few lines their wooden bodies drew in the sand, treating them with the wary respect one would give a favorite blade or a highly trained attack dog. They could work together, share the highs and lows of life with them, but never get complacent. The dolls were forever a foreign, inhuman presence, and as with all wild creatures they would never be so arrogant as to assume full understanding. For Barbara to so strongly decide for the doll meant she was most likely not the only one deciding.
Which meant the solution would not be found in the cave.
"Perhaps there are upgrades she wishes to have?"
Oracle paused.
"Maybe," she conceded. "But there's practically a limitless amount of things I could do, and I wouldn't know where to start. And I could more easily do them when she's up and walking."
Not that then. If the doll wanted something to change but not receive upgrades or heal, than what?
... Not heal.
Batman hurried to the table. Oracle watched him with hawk eyes, but another call on the comms turned her away with a final warning glance.
Recovering every single splinter from a damaged wooden object and perfectly reattaching it was nigh impossible on a good day, never mind in the dead of night with a moving target. The dolls always returned to the cave to regenerate scratches and nicks they couldn't buff out, or accepted plaster to transmute with whatever supernatural power guided them.
The batgirl on the table, divested of all covering and armour, was still as chipped and scuffed as the day nightwing recovered last splinter.
The pieces fell into place.
"She doesn't want to be perfectly rebuilt," he realised. "She doesn't want the damage to disappear as it normally does... She wants it to remain visible. A different type of repair, then."
Oracle spun in her wheelchair to face him.
"Why?" she asked, something sharp in her eyes. Bruce chose his next words carefully.
"Perhaps she thinks such damage doesn't need to be hidden away," he said, slowly, and didn't comment when she turned away. Though she put on a strong face, and the doctors had recently released her full time, it would be a long time until the young hero was able to truly heal her mind.
"She doesn't need to do that for me. She's just causing me trouble."
"I don't think she is," he tried. "Dolls tend to reflect their puppeteer even after they accept us. You can't deny your trajectory has been changed."
They both sent a significant look to the enormous super computer taking up the wall.
"You've said you almost feel better able to protect Gotham now, with your reach and skills. Do you really feel that way?"
"I - I don't -" her mouth worked silently, and Bruce waited. "I mean I guess... But a part of me always assumed it'd be temporary, you know? Once I fixed batgirl.. It'd all return to normal." Her voice wobbled, and Bruce didn't hesitate to crouch before her, wrapping her in a long armed hug. She buried herself in his chest, regardless of the chilled metal.
"It's okay if you don't," he whispered into her hair, and held her as she shook. "I'm just throwing ideas around."
"I do though," she rasped. "I think I do feel that way. There's so much that can't be solved by violence, and it feels good to be out there but... I think I can help even more people, this way."
"That's good," he praised, "that's good. You can do whatever you set your mind to."
"You stole that from a parenting book verbatim."
"It's applicable to the current situation."
"Fine," she sighed, and pushed him away to roughly scrub at her eyes. "I'll give the doll another chance. Find some glitter glue or something, I don't know."
"Any materials you need will be provided," he promised. "I wouldn't recommend glitter glue or our usual tar."
He moved to pat her on the hair as the emotions of the moment faded, making sure to keep his unsheathed claws out of her hair.
"Once you fix her, though, I would recommend you puppet the doll during night hours still," he told her. "It wouldn't be good to put your body through twenty hour days."
"I've got a good system set up for now, but thank, B-man."
The computer dinged with another alert, and oracle spun to squint at it with a muffled curse, typing furiously. Batman escaped to the other side of the room, where the folders he'd originally come looking for lay. She waved, distracted, as he left, and although the doll could not smile, he could feel it on his face all the same.
@puppetmaster13u I summon thee dear mutual ^^
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