Aug 5, 2025
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riddlebat chiikawa…
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Finished drawing of Superbat Cuddle session!!
Puh
<?> For Your Eyes Only<?>
Word count: 1,487
Warning’s: Emotional distress, toxic relationship dynamics, manipulation, stalking behavior, obsessive behavior, grief/guilt, implied NSFW imagery, intrusive thoughts, self-loathing, mentions of murder/violence, gaslighting, gender neutral reader
<?> For Your Eyes Only 1 <?>. <?> For Your Eyes Only 2<?>
You should’ve known this couldn’t end well.
There was a strange kind of stillness after he left that night. Not the quiet kind, but the heavy kind
like the air was holding its breath. You could feel it sitting on your chest, refusing to let you rest. Even as you lay in bed, blanket pulled up to your chin, you couldn’t sleep. Not really.
You just stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about the way his voice cracked. How small he looked when you said “maybe.”
How quickly the light behind his eyes dimmed when he realized it wasn’t a yes.
Or a no.
You thought “maybe” was safer. But “maybe” only ever hurts people who are waiting for something certain.
The next day was quiet. He didn’t show up. Didn’t text. Didn’t leave any notes, or knock at 3am.
No Polaroids. No eerie gifts. No Edward.
For once, you should’ve felt relieved.
But you couldn’t.
---
You kept catching yourself checking the window.
Peeking through the blinds.
Glancing at your phone even when you knew it wouldn’t buzz.
And it never did.
You figured a few days would pass and he’d be back. Dramatic entrances were kind of his thing. But when five days went by with nothing, not even a whisper of him in the headlines, you started to worry.
And when a full week passed, and you still hadn’t heard from him?
That worry turned into dread.
Because silence from Edward wasn’t normal.
Silence from him meant one of two things:
He was planning something.
Or he was falling into pieces.
You didn’t know which was worse.
The next time you saw him, it wasn’t in your apartment.
It was on TV.
Your eyes had been glazing over the news report as background noise while you reheated dinner. Looking for your missing mug, your favorite mug.
Same talking heads. Same flashing headlines. You weren’t even really listening until you heard his name.
“…Gotham PD Released New Footage Late This Afternoon Of What Appears To Be Edward Nashton, Better Known As The Riddler, Caught Entering A Condemned Building In The Narrows Earlier This Week!”
You dropped the fork you were holding.
You turned, slowly, to look at the screen. It was grainy surveillance footage, barely clear enough to see. But you knew it was him. You could tell by the way he walked.
Stiff.
Nervous.
Clutching something close to his chest. He disappeared into a broken down building and never came out.
They said he was still inside. That no one had seen him leave.
That maybe he was gone. Or dead. Or hiding.
That maybe the building would be condemned for good.
That they weren’t sending anyone in.
---
You didn’t even finish your food.
You just stood there, staring at the screen, your hands trembling.
You told yourself not to go.
You told yourself it was stupid, and reckless, and dangerous.
You told yourself he made his choice. And that you weren’t responsible for how he felt.
That he was unstable.
That he left.
That this wasn’t your fault.
But you still went.
---
You stood outside the crumbling building at midnight, your hoodie drawn up tight, the streets eerily quiet. The Narrows were always dark, but tonight felt suffocating. The kind of dark that made you feel like the city itself was watching.
You didn’t call out for him.
You didn’t have too
Because when you stepped inside, you knew he was there.
The building was cold, damp, and smelled like mold and dust. You tiptoed past broken bricks and scattered trash. Your flashlight flickered as you moved deeper inside.
Then you saw him.
Hunched over on the floor, arms wrapped around his knees, back to the wall. He looked smaller. Not just physically, but… diminished. Like something in him had caved in.
You took a breath.
“…Edward?”
His head snapped up.
It took a second for his eyes to focus, like he couldn’t believe you were real.
And then, something in his face broke.
He let out a sound half laugh, half sob and looked away immediately.
“You shouldn’t be here.” he mumbled. His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in days.
“I know.”
A beat of silence.
“…Why did you come?”
You wanted to say something brave. Something comforting. Something solid.
But the words that came out were just honest.
“I-I was scared for you…”
He laughed again. Bitter this time.
“You’re scared for me? That’s rich.”
“I mean it” you said gently, stepping closer. “I know you’re hurting. And I’m sorry I made it worse.”
He didn’t move.
“You said, maybe” he muttered. “You said it like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.”
Your throat tightened. “That’s not what I meant.”
“But that’s what it felt like.” he snapped, finally looking at you. His eyes were bloodshot. “You played with me. You let me hope.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“I would’ve taken a no” he cut in. “I could’ve handled a no. But you gave me a maybe. You held my heart in your hands and just… didn’t care what happened to it.”
You flinched.
He wasn’t yelling. That somehow made it worse. His voice was just… empty. Like the anger had already drained out of him. Like there was nothing left but hurt.
“I cared.” you whispered. “I care. I just… I didn’t know what to do.”
He didn’t say anything.
“I was scared,” you admitted. “Of what it meant. Of what you meant.”
Edward looked at you then, really looked at you. And for a second, you saw the old version of him the boyish grin, the gleam of curiosity, the way he used to look at you like you were the one riddle he’d never solve.
But it vanished.
---
“You were scared,” he echoed softly. “So you left me in limbo.”
You nodded.
“And now I don’t know how to come back from it” he added, voice breaking.
That was the moment your heart cracked.
Because you saw it finally saw it. The desperation he tried to hide behind riddles and games. The need. The pain. The loneliness.
He loved you.
In his broken, twisted, impossible way he really did.
And you had no idea what to do with that.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered again.
“I know” he said. “But sorry doesn’t fix it. Sorry doesn’t make me feel less disposable.”
You crouched beside him, slowly. Carefully. Like he might shatter.
“I never thought you were disposable.” you said. “I just didn’t know how to love you right.”
He turned his face to the side, pressing his knuckles into his eyes.
“I don’t want to be a monster” he said quietly. “But I don’t know how else to be.”
You reached out, gently, and touched his arm.
“You’re not a monster, Edward.”
He didn’t flinch away. But he didn’t lean into you either.
He just sat there, shivering, his breath hitching like a kid trying not to cry.
“I hurt people” he said. “I kill people.”
“I know.”
“and i hurt you.”
You didn’t answer. Because in some ways, he had. In others, he hadn’t. It was complicated. Too complicated for a single sentence.
“i don’t want to hurt you, do you know that?” he added, almost under his breath.
That made your eyes sting.
“You don’t have to keep doing this to yourself,” you said softly. “You can come back with me. We can figure something out.”
“No” he said immediately, shaking his head. “No, I can’t. I don’t belong in your world.”
“You do.”
“I don’t,” he insisted. “You’re perfect. You have friends, and a job, and… hope. And I’m a freak in a mask who jerks off outside your door and leaves bodies in alleys.”
You winced.
“Edward…”
“You shouldn’t love someone like me” he said, almost begging. “You can’t.”
“I don’t know if I do,” you said honestly. “But I think about you all the time. And that has to mean something.”
He was quiet for a long time.
Finally, he whispered, “I wish you didn’t.”
That broke you.
Because he meant it.
Not because he didn’t want your love.
But because he didn’t think he deserved it.
You pulled him into a hug. For the first time, he didn’t fight it.
---
He collapsed into you like he hadn’t been touched in years. Like he didn’t know how to hold himself up anymore. He cried quiet, shaking, broken sobs that soaked through your hoodie. You held him tighter.
You didn’t speak.
There was nothing left to say.
- - -
When you left, Edward grabbed your arm and looked as if he wanted you to stay, you wanted to, desperately. But in your heart you knew that you wouldn’t be able to stay with him.
You didn’t look back.
You were scared if you did, you’d stay.
And if you stayed, he’d never let you go.
And if you were being honest
You weren’t sure if you wanted him to.
forever and ever and ever!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
You ever think about how Batman could've solved Mayor Mitchell's murder within the first 15 minutes if he just traced the compromising photos back to Riddler's apartment outside the Iceberg Lounge? He ran his whole operation straight out of the apartment he took them from...
thanks for THIS. i fucking love selina from «batman: year one» and they just-
Let The World The Burn Chapter One - Five
Nine years, after the brutal murder of Mayor Don Mitchell Jr at the hands of the riddler, his widow and son are supported by Bruce Wayne for the foreseeable future. But Unbenounced to Mrs Julliet Mitchell her son Luka Mitchell is taken under the wing of Bruce Wayne far more directly, funding his education and training the now nineteen-year-old Luka for yet undisclosed purposes. After all these years Luka has formed a cold detachment from the uncaring world around him. That is until he finds himself growing close to a new classmate who goes by Rose Asher, the two share all their secrets with one another as they fall hard and fast into a whirlwind romance that may have more layers than it first appeared.
Chapter One - The Gotham Rain
Luka Mitchel sat up in his room, he watched the rain as it fell against his window, illuminated only by the orange street light outside. It always rained in Gotham these days, so much so that it seemed comical. More than once Luka wondered how the whole river hadn't come up to claim them yet. He sat on his bed, legs crossed, elbow rested on his knee, and his chin sat on his knuckles. His washed-out jeans felt stiff to sit in and often caused him to shift, and his blue long-sleeve t-shirt fell loose around him to hide his many bandages. He kept it all hidden away, he felt he had to. The house didn't feel like home, it never had and he had no intention to share his secrets within it.