#exnigmatic

[aloneinawheatfield]

“This pumpkin was sitting on someone’s doorstep, and it reminded me of Nigma.”

@exnigmatic

[b-atmans]

“Hold on, please.” SO I CAN KILL YOU MYSELF

dying meme 

“Where do you think you are going?” came the voice from behind him, and Bruce stumbled, coughing. 

Questions. Answers. It was all beyond him now. 

He pressed his hand to his side, blood pouring from between his fingers, hissing as he moved to lean himself against the wall of the alley. His vision clouded, and everything sounded so distant, and he knew that he had to keep going - that he was being - 

His knees crashed to the gravel and the pain from that itself was distant, and he heard footsteps, heard laughter, heard the voice of the other, sing-song, almost. Or maybe that was entirely in his head. 

He fell to his side, welcoming the grounding provided by his ear pressed to the gravel, but he was in pursuit, had to keep moving - 

Huh. What obnoxious shoes Nigma wore. Bruce is surprised he never noticed before - but he’d never quite had to see them quite this close before. 

The other was speaking, taunting him, but Bruce didn’t really care to listen to what he had to say. His shoes were so bright. How annoying. Bruce felt lightheaded, dizzy.

How much blood did one have to lose before they died? That’d be a good riddle. Perhaps the other man should ask it. Bruce had the perfect answer.

“This much,” Bruce rasped, to no one in particular, because the other hadn’t asked, but should have. Heh. Like jeopardy. He gave the answer. What was the question? The other spoke, and the response he received sounded confused. Or amused. Didn’t matter, probably. It was almost funny. He couldn’t recall the last time a riddle had actually been funny. This much.

The bat found himself smiling, closing his eyes to those obnoxious shoes, and then he was being pulled into thin arms, the other man’s voice quieting somewhat, still taunting, perhaps. Or simply questioning. 

“Batman?” Confusion? Curiosity? Another riddle, then. Bruce didn’t think he could muster the air to breathe in again, to speak again, so that, too, would go unsolved. 

How much blood did one have to lose before they died? This much. 

[ofboomerangs-blog]

@exnigmatic

❝Ay, Ed, do ya wanna make an easy ten bucks?❞

[showninahandfulofdust-blog]

@exnigmatic

“Cold and raw the north wind doth blow, Bleak in the morning early; All the hills are covered with snow, And winter’s now come fairly.”

[arrowroyalty-blog]

exnigmatic

aawwww

exnigmatic

wait for the demons

I GOT TO THE DEMONS

[cadmusboy-a-blog]

@exnigmatic "Problematic! What you just did is problematic!"

[exrogue]

@exnigmatic replied:

when did he join the fabulous killjoys?

omg that is horrible.