ATTENTION: So I am writing Riddler again. It’s been almost half a year what the hell...Anyways you can find Eddie on his own blog again on @riddleculed
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@riddledpsyche
ATTENTION: So I am writing Riddler again. It’s been almost half a year what the hell...Anyways you can find Eddie on his own blog again on @riddleculed
What do you call Santa Clause after he's fallen into a fireplace?
Crispy Claus? Ho-ho-horribly burned? Santa roasting on an open fire?
And think about riddles*** probs. Yup.
"You're so cute you make my zygomaticus muscles contract." :D (RiddledPsyche)
❝ That’s the weirdest way you could have said I make you smile. ❞
❝ …But it was somewhat cute. ❞
“You know what zygomaticus muscles are....”
♥_ ♥
[Closed starter for @gcthamxcity]
Edward Nigma’s life of crime was over. Around a year in a coma that left him missing nearly everything that had made him a criminal would do that to a man. Much of his memory had been lost, as well as the compulsion that had made him ill, gave him that need to lay waste to Gotham with series of deadly riddles and games. Of course his mind was intact, the genius behind the purple domino mask was still as intelligent as ever. Though of course, that ego of his was certainly still left over as well, which was why Edward had put his smarts to work. Private detective. There was money to be made in the PI game, as well as rather positive attention for once. Instead of committing crimes, the Riddler was helping to solve them.
It was not exactly out of the goodness of his heart to go about and help people. He wanted the work. Needed to keep his mind busy. Sitting still was never good for a man as intellectually gifted as he. What was it Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had wrote? ‘My mind rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work, give me the most abstruse cryptogram, or the most intricate analysis, and I am in my own proper atmosphere. But I abhor the dull routine of existence. I crave for mental exaltation.’ Would Nigma grin if someone were to compare him to Sherlock Holmes with his new line of work? Absolutely. In fact, it was just fortunate he was still parading around in his question mark covered green suit and not a caped coat out of a Holmes book. He had his own style though, he wouldn’t do for borrowing one of another.
After helping out the wife of a rather influential member of the City Council recover a stolen neckless, child’s play really, Nigma had wormed his way into access to a GCPD crime scene here and there. Though perhaps Commissioner Gordon was also trying to keep an eye on the reformed criminal mastermind.
The Riddler was alone in the room, a high-class apartment on the nicer side of the city. The body of wealthy Gothamite lay sprawled on the plush carpeted floor. The woman lay on her back, arms and legs laid at awkward angles. Her abdomen was bloody, the red soaking through her shirt and there were dark markings around her neck. It wouldn’t take a coroner to devise that strangulation had been the cause of death, oh but the blood was the fun part. Of course that wasn’t the reason he was there, nor the reason the Batman was now there. Edward didn’t even turn around, he could feel eyes on the back of his head.
“I assume the dear commissioner flashed your call. You know it would be far easier for you to just give me your number Batman,” Nigma smirked lightly as he cast a glance over his shoulder at the masked crusader, green eyes peering through the eyeholes of his mask. “Who knows, maybe you’d even be lucky enough to get me to put you on speed dial, Bats.---Bet you’d like that....No need to answer that. I rather avoid the gravelly-voiced insults for now.” Devious lips quirked into a smile before Edward revealed the reason they both knew Batman was called. Using the bottom of his cane, Nigma carefully lifted up the bottom of the woman’s shirt to reveal ‘CALL THE BAT’ carved into the woman’s abdomen. “Though perhaps whoever did this should get your digits as well, it would be a much simpler way to get your attention. Aren’t you pleased I never left you messages in this manner?”
Nigma took a few steps towards the windows, one of which had been smashed. A few sharps had fallen to the carpet but the majority landed on the outside ledge that lead onto the fire escape. “She was killed by either someone she knows or that lives in this building. I can tell you that much already and I’ve been here not three minutes longer than you have.” Oh, he was ready to show off his new life of crime solving to his former enemy. “How would I come to such a conclusion?---That was not a riddle by the way, simply a rhetorical question.” Nigma still wasn’t even giving Batman a chance to speak, he did seem to enjoy listening to himself talk. Eddie gestured to the window with the question mark end of his cane. “The killer wanted to make it look as if they broke in from the fire escape but look at the glass---the majority of it fell outside, meaning it was smashed from inside.” The Riddler held his cane gripped behind he back as he took a step closer to the window. “They came through the door. Meaning Mrs.....whatever her name is, I wasn’t listening when that officer was talking. The dead woman---she let them in. No sign of forced entry and the digital key card access this complex employs is not easy to override. I mean I could---if I wanted to---but I do not! “
“Ah--bet you never imagined we would be working on the same side now would you Batman?”
I am not even done with a starter for my Reformed Riddler verse and Eddie is already flirting with Batman XD ED WHAT IS WITH YOU?!
Texts from Edward Nygma
(texts from here, screencaps from here)
sanitylikegravity replied to your post “Daddy”
I thought that they meant daddy kinks. ...I may have a problem.
You do have a problem <3 But I will still keep you
Daddy
Tell me what you think my muse is afraid of and they’ll rate it 1-10 based on how uncomfortable it makes them.
4. I am not longer all that afraid of my father himself. It is more complicated than that. I am an adult he doesn’t physically have a hold on me anymore.
Tell me what you think my muse is afraid of and they’ll rate it 1-10 based on how uncomfortable it makes them.
Riddle me this.
Think of words ending in -GRY. Angry and hungry are two of them. There are only three words in the English language. What is the third word? The word is something that everyone uses every day. If you have listened carefully, I have already told you what it is.
@gcthamxcity
What's good 😜 u candy cane cum guzzler 👅🎄DICKCEMBER🎄 is here and u know what that means ❄ HOE HOE HOE season has arrived 🎅 put on your rudolph pasties 🔴 pop ur peppermint pussy 🍬 and sit by the fireplace with some hot COCKLATE 🍆☕if u want to get RAWED 👉👌 under the mistletoe 🌿 this christmAss 🎁 send this to 15 of your sluttiest elves 👩👨 if u get 0 back 😔 ur an UGLY GRINCH👀 if u get 5 back 😌 ur a SEXY SNOWMAN ⛄⛄if u get 10 back 😘 ur a BAD JINGLE BELL BITCH 🔥🙌 SHARE in 69 😉💦
*strikes a pose*
I am a slutty elf? I have been called a Leprechaun before but never an elf.
You deserved everything Daddy did to you, because you're a fool and a filthy cheater. (It's just for the break the muse meme; I 100% do NOT actually think this)
Break my muse in 15 words or less meme: accepting
Those words had come as a shock and Edward looked both confused and hurt. It wasn’t like he’d never thought the same words before—but it was never nice to hear such things aloud. That look of vulnerability on his face faded to be replaced with anger. “DO NOT speak to me about my father. You know nothing. What? You read my file? Well con-grat-u-lations. YOU CAN READ. Which is a shocker really.” Edward spat his chest heaving with anger, and his face was nearly as red as his hair. Eddie’s arms crossed over his chest, forming a protective barrier between him and the other individual, at least in terms of body language. The anger faded just as quickly as it had flared up and was replaced by the prior pained expression on his face. He had cheated—but it had been one time. It didn’t define him—right? He was more than that! Smart. Cunning. He was—Edward couldn’t think of anything else positive to describe himself as, the other words bouncing around in his head too much. A fool. “I am not—I am not…” Nigma’s brow furrowed, his words no longer addressed to anyone in particular. “No–no–no. I was just a boy. What child deserves that?” Edward’s eyes squeezed shut, hands rubbing at his face before they slid to curl his fingers into his hair in a painfully tight grip. “No–no–no. I am not a fool. I am not stupid. I am not a fool. Not. Not a fool,” he muttered on repeat.
You get a lot of it if you’re powerful and successful, but significantly less when you’re just starting out. You sometimes do it with yourself, but it’s a lot better when you do it with another person. What am I talking about?
Hm...I am stuck deciding between vacation time and email????
My business is briefs. I’m a cunning linguist. I plead and plead for it regularly. What am I?
Oh, Mr. Mayor. Such a wicked sounding riddle.....the answer is lawyer.