#riddl3r

[batfall-a]

"Tell me, Mr..." Edward smirks instead of saying a name "What was life like on the other side?" / @riddl3r

CLUES , it seems are to be their form of communication - an art form within itself when so much brilliance is behind each word. the air thick , fog settling into gotham as night embraces , and the bat is caught off guard.

or so he allows others to think , ' as much as i enjoy these runs-ins edward i don't think tonight is the night to get sentimental about the past ' words said in a hushed manner as cowl covers features and the faint hint of exhaustion can be detected.

' never knew you spent so much time wondering about my past . . . i'm touched '

the words half formulated , coated in FEIGN jocular tonality. who IS edward nygma and what exactly is his TIE to THE BAT ?

' it feels , . . PAINFUL ' the bat says as he then clears throat and looks at the other. stance never wavering , confident in manner as he has battled gotham for enough lifetimes.

' do you think sometimes of what they'll say about the both of us ? ' the bat moving within shadows as they rush to his very heels ; they do so love his very presence. ' do you know the other side ? - TELL me about your side '

[doctordonovan]

Send me a 💔 and I’ll generate a number, 1-75, and post a starter based on what scenario I get.

21.   My muse finds out a loved one of your muse has died, and has to tell them.

 hard news isn't an easy thing,    and by now she should be used to breaking it.    over past few years it has been one bad thing after another    -    boy has never had it easy,    both because of blood and seemingly the very stars never aligning in his favour.    (   he has settled in,    finally,    with her.     it is the best that maeve knows how to offer:    her affection without any strings,    without any of the cruelty he had been once taught to fully expect.   )   hard news is one thing,    bittersweet is another.

 ❝   sit with me,    @riddl3r​?   ❞      invite comes as she sits on couch,    quiet in reaching a hand out to invite boy closer,    even gentler still as long fingers so delicately squeeze his smaller hand.     some news is both good and bad in equal measure    -    the connotations and ripple effects certain to echo beyond what initial relief may find its way in his core.    ❝   I had a call,     this afternoon,     about your father.   ❞     a man unworthy of the title,    little more than blood and even that no more than a curse.    still her hand moves up,    to smooth his dark hair off face,      ❝   I,    ah.    I know this is going to bring up some mixed feelings     -     but there was a fight at the prison.     he was...    very badly hurt.   ❞

[babydxhl]

“ just being polite, Mary. we do that where i’m from too. “

sharp objects novel sentence starters | still accepting.

"You and I both know nobody's ever just polite," she says, but there's a distracted note to it, drumming her fingertips on the balcony railing, gaze following the action out on the street. One cruiser, two — red and blue dances across the whites of their eyes, sweeps like Gatsby's light through the empty offices of the building opposite. The tiny sound of her fingernails on cold metal, the nonsense rhythm, feels louder if only because of its lack of any echo, the sheer immediacy of the clink-clink-clink.

"Everybody wants something." As they watch, one of the cops hovers over one of the men sitting in the gutter — a group of about 20, lined up like lemmings, caught up in the raid that had ripped through the underground levels of the bar next door to the theatre.

The cop holds out his hands, palms up. A universal whaddayagot gesture. Even from where they are, Mary can sense the expectancy in his gaze. As the man in the gutter lowers his head, Mary finally turns her face to look at Ed.

"So what do you want?"

[doctordonovan]

❝   I don't believe you.   ❞

 words elicit little more than a glance,    dark eyebrows raised in quiet answer.    he doesn't need to believe her    -    not really,   not in the end.   the decisions she makes are to protect boy   (  and,   sometimes,   perhaps he won't understand her methods or logic   ).   @riddl3r​ still needs to learn how to process being someone's priority:   how to be the child in their dynamic instead of just a smaller adult.   there will always be days where it goes against his very nature,   where every bone in his body will scream there is something unfair to it.

 no matter what maeve decides,   there will be something unfair,   it is the way life goes.   yet she learnt first hand the consequences of letting hurt children grow up too fast   &&   too alone.    ❝   I know,   ed,   I do.   I didn't...    the idea of therapy seemed awful to me too when I first started.   ❞    finally she moves,    coming to take seat with gentle sigh.    ❝   you've been through a lot,    love.    I'm not saying you're broken and I'm not saying I won't be here to listen when you want to talk.    but talking to a stranger whose only task is to listen    -    it might be a way to get out the things you're not ready to talk to me about.   ❞

[griim]

@riddl3r asked; =|=

So one way Gemma and I are different is, Gemma is a total badass and I am... Well, not. She loves a good fight were as I am like, cant we all just talk it out and calm the hell down. Haha

[rosydreamiing]

(Have a chemistry joke by Ed)I may be N Er Dy but only periodically

At first she doesn't seem to get it — until after a few more seconds one can see a bright, wide smile of ‘a-ha!’ spread across her features.

"That’s a good one!" The blonde admits. "Where do you pull all these riddles and jokes from? Do you carry a book with you at all times, or are you just exceptionally quick-witted?"

[doctordonovan]

 ❝   it’s better you don’t know.   ❞

 frustration comes before it can be swallowed,    shooting through her sharp and jolting,    finding its way to fingertips as they rub own briefly closed eyes.    (   no matter how many years pass,    he's still got that stubborn streak.    it was likely part of what kept him alive though all he's endured...    yet it threatens to be the death of her.   )   he's certainly her son   -   in every way,  and in too many of the flaws too.  

 ❝   I'm the parent,   sweetheart.   why don't you let me decide what I need protecting from?   ❞     sometimes she wonders if she is yet to fully earn his trust:   if boy will ever be able to let her fully in.    yet approach has always been the same,    gentle and careful,   never trying to smash in.    ❝   talk to me,    @riddl3r​.    I'm not going to get mad,    I just want to understand what happened.    wouldn't you rather I listen to your version before anyone else's?   ❞

[babydxhl]

@riddl3r | sc.

"You don't like me, do you?"

The question comes without preamble, almost drowned out by the clinking of glasses, the hum of voices that threaten to swell up and over them both. Mary sits back in the booth; though her face is turned towards the tiny candle afixed to the centrepiece, she watches Nygma through her eyelashes.

"You think I'm mean." There's a stray curl settled on the curve of her cheek. She brushes it back behind her ear idly, her gaze flickering over a passing waiter, the group of people cheering at the bar, and back to the man sitting opposite. "But I know things you don't."