[E. NYGMA SIGNING IN]

A portrayal of E. Nygma based off various appearances in media

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒;

Toxic relationships, medical misconduct, implied/past rape, child abuse, drugs/drugging, religious speech, murder, heavy injury, death, mutilation, general disregard of consent, guns.

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒;

-I am not my muse, opinions shared will not match with my own, and actions/crimes committed are not condoned.

-Hate speech will not be tolerated, with exceptions of IC speech.

-OC’s are allowed to interact, however shipping is not, unless previously discussed.

-Flirting/flirtatious speech/asks are allowed.

-suggested asks and roleplays are allowed, they will be tagged ‘[ nsfw ]’ so that those who do not wish to view it can block out the tag

-Other roleplay accounts are allowed and encouraged to interact, however I will not respond to other riddler accounts while IC

-Fanart, tagging, DM-ing is allowed

-If you would like to start an rp, have a question, etc, feel free to DM me :)

𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒;

-Unless IC, do not send in requests about your self harm, or how to prevent yourself from committing. I am not a therapist, contact a professional.

-Do not DM or send in OOC threats

-If you have a fanpage about real life murders, school shooters, terrorists, do NOT interact with me. You will be reported and blocked immediately. (You know who you are).

-Do not send asks telling me to donate to certain organizations

𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑;

-You can refer to me as QQ/Query when OOC, pronouns are up to you.

-Mun is an adult!

-I don't give out my personal number, but feel free to talk to me through Tumblr DM’s or my discord (not given out unless we've talked for a little).

-If I share my IRL name or information, don't share it with others.

-OOC posts are tagged with ‘Query Answers,’ feel free to block the tag if you don't wish to see those types of posts.

OTHER INFORMATION/ARCS/PLOT TAGGING SYSTEM

OTHER BLOGS I RUN: @r-i-d-d-l-3-r @ms-tuesday @i-will-always-remain

“An aged Riesling, generally. A good white wine is one of life's few pleasures that doesn't actively attempt to kill, arrest, or intellectually insult me.”

“As for drunkenness -- No. Not intentionally, anyhow. I enjoy a light buzz on occasion, just enough to take the edge off without sacrificing my faculties. Deliberately rendering myself incapable of coherent thought sounds less like recreation and more like a personalized horror story.”

A pause.

“Now, before anyone brings it up -- yes, I am fully aware that certain... historical incidents may appear to contradict this statement.”

His expression immediately sours.

“However, I must say, paying attention to my personal struggles seems less a commentary on myself and more on you.”

“There is no need to shout, but yes, I was admittedly rather surprised myself.”

Edward pinches the bridge of his nose, already looking exhausted by the very concept of the conversation.

“One does not typically expect to hear from a man after... well.” His free hand gestures vaguely through the air. “Everything.”

“He has always possessed a remarkable talent for appearing precisely where he is least wanted. Like a bad penny. Or a rash. Or some particularly persistent strain of mold.”

A sigh.

“I can only hope he has enough sense to avoid Harvey. God knows what Tetch would do if he discovered my current living arrangements. The resulting catastrophe would be so predictable it would border on parody.”

For a moment, he looks genuinely thoughtful.

“Binary, however...”

A pause.

“Mm.”

His mouth twitches into something that is definitely not a smile.

“...”

There it is. A voice he had hoped never to hear again.

Edward stares at the message on his phone for far longer than it deserves. Longer than he deserves. His thumb hovers over the screen, expression hardening with every passing second.

Honestly, what was it about Gotham that kept producing these obsessive tragedies? Men who mistook fixation for affection. Men who built entire worlds in their heads and then grew offended when reality refused to cooperate.

How long had it been since that room?

Since the darkness, the flower toxins, the fever dreams, the bullet wound in his leg?

Since he had shattered that window and fled on nothing but adrenaline and desperation?

How long since his life had begun its steady collapse?

And now Jervis had the audacity to speak as though they had shared something worth missing. As though Edward owed him nostalgia.

“It is genuinely fascinating how many months can pass without improving a person.”

For a moment, something old stirs beneath the exhaustion. Something sharper. Colder. The voice of a man who once never allowed himself to be spoken to this way.

“Jervis, darling, are these attempts at guilt something you rehearse, or does that pathetic desperation simply come naturally to you?”

That mask, the one still sunk in the Gotham harbor, stirred against the sand.

“I assure you, whatever feeling you hold for me, it has never been mutual. Never will be mutual.”

A pause.

“Honestly, I'm disappointed. I expect obsession from you - accept it, even. I did not expect such a complete lack of self-respect.”

“Please. In a hypothetical apocalypse, I have no doubt whatsoever that I could survive. Frankly, I would give myself significantly better odds than the overwhelming majority of the population. Intelligence remains useful even when civilization collapses -- arguably more useful.”

“The real question is whether I would want to. Imagine it: no new discoveries, no meaningful research, no technological progress, no worthy competition. Just endless scavenging and the company of people operating on little more than instinct and desperation. How utterly, mind-numbingly dull.”

“I can... appreciate the concept behind it. Rebellion, dissatisfaction, frustration with the status quo—many of the themes are perfectly reasonable. In fact, some of the messages align rather well with my own views regarding society's overwhelming dedication to mediocrity.”

“However, the execution leaves something to be desired. Must every song sound as though someone has trapped a blender inside a teenager's bedroom? The volume alone is enough to make one's skull vibrate.”

“Ugh. Those dreadful rave tracks.

No melody worth remembering. No lyrical substance. No structure. Just an endless assault of bass designed, apparently, to convince intoxicated people that standing in a warehouse at three in the morning constitutes a worthwhile personality.

And before someone inevitably tells me that I'm ‘missing the point,’ let me assure you—I understand the point perfectly. The point is to be loud. That's it.

“My favorite… Hm. Admittedly I don't believe I have a certain song I favor above all others-- though I am more inclined to certain genres.”

Where do you get your suit from? Looks great.

“How gracious of you to notice. Yes, my suits are rather exceptional, aren’t they?

“They’re custom tailored, naturally, by a marvelous little establishment tucked away in Gotham’s historic district. A hidden gem, really—one of the city’s few places that still understands craftsmanship instead of churning out those mass-produced polyester atrocities.”

“As for the exact location, I’m not about to hand over my seamstress’s information so some aspiring third-rate hoodlum can waltz in and demand ‘something intimidating.’

*Retreats*

“…Is this a joke? That’s what passes for wit now? Good lord, there isn’t even a structure to it- are you all genuinely this entertained by linguistic roadkill, or have your standards simply rotted beyond recognition?”

And if they get bored they make it everyone one else's problem!