Oh, could I please request a tiny little bit of writing based on whatever your vision for Edward past the first film is? (my current obsession alsjd- everyone's ideas are so very different and I love that 🖤)
Sure!! I honestly haven’t given it much thought before, but this was a nice exercise!! Forgive me for any mischaracterization or punctuation issues, I'm rusty!!
Small TW below the line: Suicidal ideation, eating disorder mention (he starves himself), very mild self harm (he smacks himself), general warning
divider: puzzlek-ng
46 days. That’s 1 and a half months. 6 weeks. How many seconds is that? Well, I’d need to multiply- Forget it. Doesn’t matter in here. Nothing matters anymore.
He feels pathetic. Like his brain is turning to sludge and his body is melting away. The shackles are too heavy on his wrists, and the “puzzles” the workers give him are too weak on his mind. He’s brilliant, why is nobody realizing that? Why does he have to suffer through this harsh, cold prison without any form of enrichment? Is this his punishment for being a good man? For wanting to save his people, become the beacon of hope that The Batman wishes he was? So many questions left unanswered, all because everyone else doesn’t care. He cares. Maybe if he could just rip away these fucking chains –
– Lights here are always bright. They hurt his eyes. Cells are cold. It hurts his bones. Everyone here is stupid. That hurts his heart. The lights are so bright today. How many days has it been? Last time I checked it was… oh. 62 days. Time drags in here. It hurts his head. Everything makes less sense and it’s killing him. He’s hoping to die here soon, the time distortion, the cold, the idiots, the lights. His head hurts so bad today. His special friend talks of escaping. If I can’t escape, I’m not sure how lucky you’d be, idiot! He thinks to himself. He smacks himself across the face for thinking negatively of his only friend. The workers put him in restraints for the night.
He doesn’t care anymore. Somehow, only four days have passed. 66 days. His body feels heavy, even though he hasn’t been eating. The meals here are horrible. He wonders to himself if the outside world is starving, too. The thought that they are makes him feel better. Now they know what it’s like… how it feels to suffer without aid. He hopes that everyone is dead. Maybe he’ll die soon, if nobody else is there to help him. He finds peace in that.
But instead of light at the end of the tunnel, he’s greeted by The Bat.
Any thoughts/ideas about Edward’s love language(s) and how he’d act as a partner? (pre-riddler, riddler era, or post-batman 2022! Any of them, whichever u have more thoughts on LOL)
btw don’t feel pressured to answer LOL i know this is probably pretty specific
(I admittedly have some gripes in regards to the "love language" framework as I am highly sceptical when it comes to its origin, so I will be re-framing that part slightly.)
cw: suggestive language
At first, he just wants to touch you, because he knows so intimately how it feels to live without it, to live a life devoid of the simple blessing of touch other than this of a violent, punishing nature. The idea of you living like this, of feeling like he does, horrifies him, just as much as the idea of your face joining the iconography of distress painted by the brush of indifference which continues to haunt him. There is something chaste about the way in which he goes about it, seeking your permission to do so, light-headed with awe and astonishment at the sight of his own tarnished hands against the immaculate excellence of your body. He has spent the entirety of his lifetime up until that point reaching, searching, and the very moment during which he realises that you are welcoming him, Edward comes to the conclusion that the answer is you, it must have always been you.
Edward is not a perfect partner, far from it, but nobody truly is, as you assure him, show him, teach him, for he loves to learn. He is eager to please you, he wants to please you, despite feeling awfully inept. He has been ostracised, cast out, and he feels almost as if he is learning how to be human, and what it means. He loves you, yes, stumbling and clutching his chest as his heart swells thaws, it has been cold for so very long. He wants to protect you, too, and finds himself bewildered at the realisation of just how far he would go in order to do so. He does not quite reach that point, however, not yet.
It does surprise you when, a few years later, he drags you into his apartment, animated, electric, because he has to tell you, he has to show you. Edward flicks through the ledger with a surety which you have not seen him express before, explaining that you are a part of all this, too, appearing almost feverish but insisting that it is a fever which will purge the sickness from his body when you take his hands into yours the moment he puts it down. There is a sudden vulnerability which shocks his frame, then, because he can not frighten you, he can not lose you, not now, and yet he is unable to cease, unable to stop. You find this intoxicating, the way in which his shell begins to crack, the light gradually warming up his soul and rendering it ablaze. Edward says that it is all a kind of a game with multiple players, and that you are an integral part of his party. There is a come-down which follows, yes, a night so very alike to those early ones, his body and his mind a wreck, all defective circuitry and blown fuses, how can you touch this, how can you want this? The fractured laughter which he releases from his very depths as you promise, you swear to stay by his side, by The Riddler's side thrills you. You begin to slowly understand just what it means to him when he grasps your wrist to pull you into his world, fully, and it is a dangerous world, but he has the tools and the confidence to protect you.
The red string of fate causes for the two of you to meet again a year or so following the day of judgement. He is no longer the man he was before, no. He has learned so much despite his confinement, and he wants to return the favour which he believes he owes you. He will teach you, now, not quite how to be human but how to become more than that. The greatest gift is the gift of knowledge, after all, and he wishes to share it with you, and only you, as despite the years and the distance, you are still the one whom he trusts the most.
btw! my asks / requests are open!!! i cant write a full oneshot at the moment but if you wanna request like a little tiny bit or writing OR hear my thoughts on any of my favorites (riddler, remmick, sir jimmy crystal, and more) send an ask! u can also send stuff in regards to In Rainbows
In rainbows update: gotten some writing done! about a page and a half. Nowhere nearing the end of the chapter, though. I'll try and get it done by friday, but i can't make any promises.
As compensation, please take a hint (2 photos) and a little paragraph! Please note that these photos are from ebay, not my own. And they're relevant to the story. (PRESS READ MORE FOR FIC SPOILERS)
"You feel a little sick. A lot sick, actually. Your ears feel like they’re plugged, and you can feel your blood pumping through your fingers and face. You look to the other side of the card, where there’s more writing scrawled in the same messy script as the envelope."
Then Old Nick did speak to his favored son, whose name was Jimmy Crystal. And he said unto Jimmy, "You are now Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal. And you shall be my right hand, which shall be strong, and you shall have seven fingers. And each finger shall be a claw, and you shall offer charity to the world of man. And for this, you alone shall be my heir! And your seven fingers shall hold your crown."
28 Years Later: The Bone Temple (2026) dir. Nia DaCosta
