#boastergold

a loud cackle slithers from his throat, empty glass of chardonnay held close against his chest as pearly whites gleam in a wide smile. earn the title of 'the riddler'? what a miserable fate for someone. ❝ oh, booster, ❞ left hand rests against hero's bicep as eddie steadies himself after such a sudden laughing fit, mossy green eyes focusing up before smile falters slightly after a beat of silence. ❝ you're serious? i pity anyone who wants to 'pick up the mantle', so to speak. ❞

'riddler' had started out as a nickname during college, thrust upon him by others, a box to fit in — a box he'd like fitting in as a lonely sixteen year old at gotham u. edward nygma would die before ever admitting to being a people pleaser, but there had always been that certain thrill in proving their intelligence to everyone around them, always needing to prove that they were enough even when they felt like not enough or too much. and god, they'd spent so long feeling like that. puzzles and riddles and other mental games had become a comfort when nothing else felt comforting, and 'the riddler' had become a way to justify that feeling, a mask they could hide behind, an unhealthy coping mechanism used against an unwilling city and her equally unwilling residents.

question: what belongs to you, but others will use it? answer: your name.

over the years eddie had had to deal with copycats or other villains with similar schticks: king tut, cluemaster, conundrom — yet none of them had ever been able to outsmart him. it had always been a matter of pride, taking out the competition, sometimes even bringing them to justice with the batman's assistance.

so what if the impossible was finally achieved and edward nygma met a riddle he couldn't solve?

head tilts thoughtfully, gaze oddly warm as a contemplating hum sits behind their lips.

     “   she’s   got   a   bizarre   taste   when   it   comes   t’   meat—   look   out ,   she’s   dangerous !   take   care ,   she’s   outta   control !   ”

         It didn’t take long for Dinah to feel her eyes water under the circumstances. Many friends of her, old ones too, had come over for Ollie’s funeral - quite useless when you knew he had disappeared in million of pieces through the explosion. What were they even burying that day ? 

Michael was one of the few who had insisted to stay and help Dinah clean Oliver’s last belongings. The most personal ones, the blonde was taking care of, but there were others things she already listed and told her camrades to collect as memories or whatever they felt like before she’d give everything to charity, just like Oliver would have liked it. 

An old picture from an old time, when she barely twenty, and Oliver was already hitting on her with his growing mustache. A beach in the background, their first vacation together. He had his arms around her, holding her bride smile and the smile upon his grin was nothing but cocky. 

She felt the presence, and then the comforting hand on her shoulder. Snatching the tear away from the corner of her eye, she closed the photos album hastily, ignoring the ask on purpose, then turned around with a forced smile. A blonde lock was tugged behind her ear,     “ Nothing. Just old memories. ”    Her voice was lost in her throat, all she wanted to do was scream on top of her lungs. And Michael... the more she looked at him, the more she was seeing herself asking him for the impossible. Dinah resisted the urge, but eventually she had to ask.

❛ 𝐢’𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮! ❜   the blue hued vigilante warned the gold one, with arms crossing over his chest and despite wearing his domino mask across his eyes, the arch of his eyebrow was still visible.   ❛ batman’s on the war path today. so i’m not sure what you . . . or anyone else did. but he’s pretty pissed off and i ain’t going to be the one to deal with it. ❜   close to fifteen years, had he been dealing with batman . . . it was time for someone else to take the fall and gift nightwing with the blessing of a break.

you bit me! why are u mad at me? :(

        “ i’m serious. ”       and it’s evident enough in his voice, low and trilled with gravity. he leans back against the chair, huffing out a sigh. “ i was there for months. we became best friends really quickly in the last timeline i went to ----- and you owe me 20 bucks. ” okay, maybe he’s not that serious. but he sure sounds like it.