Take My Wrongs & Make Them Ritee Give Ur Old Boys Cigarette A Light

take my wrongs & make them ritee give ur old boys cigarette a light

i missssed drawing them

The two of us are dying.

Edward Nashton (Riddler)/ Trans male! Reader

Reader is a trans guy and he/they pronouns are used (but I can totally switch the pronouns + descriptions and make other versions if people are interested)

Synopsis ;

Reader is a True Crime freak, Edward is a freak freak, reader finds his stream one night and the riddler takes an interest in him.

Warnings ; Edward is an incel, stalking, creepy behavior on Edwards part, mentions of smut, kidnapping, terrorism childhood trauma, murder, mention of rat cage torture, the usual.

No real tangible smut (for now ;;;;))))

No one has ever really liked Edward Nashton.

As a child he was always picked last in gym, blankets and coats were missing when he came back to the orphanage from school, even then people were put off by him. Now as an adult it isn’t any better, still alone, still wanting for more. Even with his newfound purpose the prospect of isolation, lifetime isolation, it scares him. His fans fill the hole in his chest a little bit, but they arent nearly enough. It’s like he hasnt seen anyone face to face in years.

If someone asked you why you spend all this time learning about criminals you wouldn’t be able to tell them. You’ve never been violent (save for in thought), you dont have trouble empathizing with people, you never wet the bed or killed animals or suffered head trauma as a child, you dont even like torture porn movies. None of that matters because night after night you find yourself reading about gothams criminal history. Lately that’s meant learning about him. A masked serial killer in army fatigue, the man (at least you assume he's a man) you’ve been obsessing over for the last four weeks calls himself the riddler. Dorky name. Really really silly, you think, especially when you consider there’s another serial killer named ‘the joker’ locked up in arkham. The riddler and the joker, its hard to be upset by how absolutely shitty gotham is when most of its criminals are so goofy. That’s sort of what.....impresses (you aren’t sure thats the right word) you about the riddler - he’s horrifying in spite of the name. You weren’t really around town when the joker was free, but even after reading the accounts of what he did you cant imagine he was ever as chilling as this new one is. You’d like to meet him, the riddler, you think. See what he’s like with the mask off. See if that’s worse.

Just as your mind reaches to start thinking about gothams man in green again, you remember two things.

One, you aren’t allowed to think about weird shit at work - lest your thoughts spill out of your mouth and you scare your coworkers.

Two, you’re supposed to be on opening shift. Opening shift means you were supposed to unlock the doors five minutes ago. Yikes.

Thank god your boss isnt here and thank god there’s no one at the door.

You sigh and walk back to the counter.

Another exciting day of customer service.

That’s the thing you hate most about your job. Inconsistency. Some days the customers are sweet and they tip well, some days (cough today) are grueling - the people are rude the work is hard and at the end of the day you feel weak.

As you turn on your laptop you wonder ; what better way to wind down than watching a murderer livestream?

A url is typed into the search bar, you must have forgotten to clear it last night.

For weeks you’ve been trying to get brave enough to actually click ‘enter’ when you type in the website, but you just haven't been able to do it. He’s good with tech and smart, what if he figures out where you are? What if you get arrested for neglecting to report criminal behavior? Is that even a thing the police can do? As your finger hovers over the enter key you weigh the pros and cons. Pro, entertainment for the night. Con, might get arrested or something. Pro, you get to see the real deal in all his terrifying, terrifying glory. Con -

Your cat brushes up against you, you twitch, and to your slight horror you hear a

click

Shit. No better time than the present, you guess.

The screen of your laptop goes black and after a few seconds a bright green

Appears on the screen.

< A new one. Though I’d like to congratulate you now, finding the website in a sea of fakes is no small feat, I want to play a game first.>

He's definitely seen saw more than once.

<My two hands never stop moving but I dont work or play, I am immortal but I can still pass, I am valued but I dont exist - what am I?>

True to his name, he does like riddles. You are kind of disappointed he doesn't really say "riddle me this", you've always thought the phrase is funny. After a few moments of thinking you type out the answer to his question.

<Time, right?>

<Smart - It didn't even take you twenty seconds. >

In spite of yourself your lips upturn into a small smile at the praise.

<Thank you :)>

<Quite welcome. What's your name?>

Fear pooled in your chest and you felt your mouth begin to dry. Hopefully he meant usernames.

< Is ‘lucretiamy’ taken?>

<No. Lucretia - you're a girl or a sisters of mercy fan?>

Should you say? On one hand, lying will probably piss him off, that’s kind of his whole thing, on the other hand those school PSAs told you never to state your gender to any strangers online (and those are normal strangers, strangers that havent violently attacked and killed anyone in the past week). Plus, you've hung around this crowd online long enough to know a lot of them aren't really too eager to *not* be awful to trans people.

After a minute or so you’re still deciding and another message pops up.

<I can tell you the answer, its publicly available information really - instagram bio, but you wont answer?>

A shaky breath leaves your mouth as you type.

<Didnt figure you'd understand. Some of your supporters havent been very welcoming to me.>

< I cant accept that kind of behavior, cleaning up gotham doesnt just mean getting rid of politicians, it means getting rid of people like that too. If you dont give out your personal information there shouldnt be any negative attention, but if it anyone does talk to you about it here let me know. >

Ha. The man that just found your instagram account, your personal instagram account, in almost a minute without a username telling you not to give info to strangers online. You smiled a little bit. He seemed......nice, as nice as someone like him could be.

<Thank you, I mean it. I will.>

< :] . Play safe, have fun.>

The chat screen closed and a stream setup with a timer in the middle of the feed replaced it. A chat box on the left scrolled slowly down, two people were figuring out how to "riddler pill" their family members. You expected to have some time left before the stream, but the timer noted there was only about 3 minutes. Sitting and waiting made your nerves act up more than talking to the guy. You were expecting him to be strange, cut off, incellish. So far he seems shockingly...... fine. Then again, ted bundy was also a normal person, so was BTK, etc. Still some part of you didn’t register the fact that this man was dangerous.

You pulled out your sketchbook as you waited for the timer to hit 00:00 and sat down on your couch.

After a few minutes of sketching, a beep sounded off. You jumped and looked down at your computer to see a blurry feed of the masked man staring up at the camera.

When he spoke you leaned forward in your chair. His voice was gritty, filtered, but there was an underlying softness to it.

“Hey guys!”

He waved at the camera, excited.

“So - “

He clapped his hands together.

“I want to take a break from talking strategy today and welcome a few new users! Feel free to say hi in chat guys, introduce yourselves, get to know each other, I do want this to be a community.”

He seemed to wait for the fans responses.

Cautiously you typed out a “Hi, everybody!”

Responses ran through the chat, mostly reply hello's and smiley faces, until someone asked you a question.

<What brings you here, lucretia?>

You had to think for a moment before you started typing. Honest response - "I want to watch a serial killer livestream his murders for fun after work" or, the other one. The answer you've been coming to terms with for a while now.

The ladder would probably go over better.

< It irks me - ive only lived in this city for a few years and I dont have it bad, not by any stretch of the imagination, but the way politicians ignore every problem thats real, that effects people, in favor of culture war non issues makes me angry. You can drive down main and see it, people sleeping on the streets getting the cops called on them, getting told to move away from the rich people's sky scraper apartment buildings to poorer areas so no one has to look at them. Arkham asylum has the highest death rate of any prison in the country, its known for being a hell hole where they send people to die, the people who finance this city - run things, dont just let it exist they ship people like that joker guy there. No one does what he did without having serious mental health problems. They lock him up instead of trying to help him by getting him the care he needs. Same with drugs, same with housing crisis, same with muggings. It's gross. At least the riddler's doing something.>

You didnt really have a problem with the riddler, just how he went about things. The mayors son found him, no kid should have to go through that, but would the justice system have dealt with Mitchell correctly had he been caught and turned in the old fashioned way? Hell no. It was a grey area. Violence is never the answer except when it is, but can this much violence really be necessary? As the riddler read the chat his eyes lit up.

“Yes! It should get to you, it should make you angry and hurt, they see us everyday and they dont do anything. Every one of them - they dont do anything. Drugs are only a problem because the people on top are trying to make money instead of help us, if we just treated people like people we’d be better off. Thats why they dont get humanity. On the news when they all whine and cry about the poooooor dead mayor awww he was a great guy wasnt he? - NO. No. He doesnt treat us like people so we’ll repay the debt. We’ll leave every one of them hanging out the windows of their million dollar a month high rise apartments like livestock and see how they fucking like it.”

He was almost screaming now. You arent sure how the other people in his apartment block cant hear him through the walls. For the next hour and a half you watch him walk in circles, moving erratically like he’s in some sort of trance. Still he's strangely compelling, charismatic. Even the people in the chat are intimidating, all seemingly well read, smart, angry, the whole thing scares you.

Still, your bi - nightly routine becomes sitting down to watch his streams

(and his nightly routine becomes watching you).

Things went on as usual for the next few weeks. You went to work, sat around and served people drinks for a few hours, then you came home and watched his streams. After the first chat you two had you'd assumed there would be more, to your slight relief (and slight disappointment) no green text had popped up on your laptop screen in almost a month. You knew it was weird - sickening almost - but you hoped he at least thought about you from time to time. He was sort of cute when he wasn't screaming about politicians ruining his life, and he didn't do that as much as you thought he would. Most streams ended up being him interacting with the chat, asking for tips, talking, getting to know people. Tonight was one of those nights. To your dismay your boss had scheduled you for the early morning shift instead of the evening shift you usually had - that meant you'd have to miss stream. You logged on really quick to tell everyone that you were ok, you'd just have to go to bed early tonight. A few of your acquaintances (you wouldn't quit call them friends) typed out their condolences, but other than that your absence notice seemed to fly under the radar.

That is until your screen went black and a familiar question mark symbol showed up.

&lt;;?>

<Why do you have to miss stream?>

A small smile crept across your face.

<Aw, are you going to miss me?>

<You didn't answer my question.>

<My boss scheduled me for a morning shift without asking. He's rude that way - I have to be at work from 12 - 5 >:(. >

Behind his screen, the riddler giggled.

<Maybe we'll see each other.>

<How do you mean?>

<I usually go out for food after stream, I might see you around.>

The thought filled your stomach with butterflies, or something more violent than that - birds maybe.

<I hope you do.>

He took a while to type out his next message.

<;Really?>

<Yeah. I think it would be fun to meet you IRL. Talk on stream is usually centered on "the big event" - you cant be too personal or someone might figure out who you are. You're interesting, I want to know what kind of books and movies you like, If you own pets, shit like that. >

<Para social relationship fantasizing, I know, Im sorry. Lol.>

You quickly added.

It seemed like hours before he responded. You were almost considering closing out of the window - maybe you'd scared him (ha). After nearly five minutes a message popped up.

<Maybe we should meet. >

<Are you fr?>

&lt;Yes. >

As if it wasn't already too ominous for your liking, he sent another message.

<I'd like to get to know you too, maybe meet your cat.>

<I'll see you soon. Dont get too worried about it.>

<Goodbye.>

Oh god. "Your cat" meaning your one cat, a specific number and a specific animal. He could just be guessing to try and scare you, maybe you accidentally dropped the information in chat (you did love showing him off - he was a beaut, and your only son), but something tells you he gleaned the knowledge a different way. Something tells you he may be more interested in you than you first assumed.

Going to work after receiving that information was a struggle. You were a man broken into thirds. One part of you wondered if you were over reacting and making a big deal out of nothing - he knew you had a cat big deal that didnt mean he was stalking you. The second part was horrified, he was dangerous and pretty unstable, you knew that much. Now he was following you. The third part was the one that scared you the most. You liked it. You knew he was probably watching you, looking at you, he probably had been since you made an account on his website. You knew full well what he was doing and you liked it. You couldn't stop yourself from venturing further down, letting the image of him in his mask and his gloves slam you against a wall and choke you out, threaten you, maybe even draw blood. Your hand instinctually went for the waistband of your boxers but you stopped yourself, rubbing circles into the front of your thigh instead.

Fuuuuck, you had to work, you couldnt dwell on him right now.

You grabbed your keys and put on your leather combat boots and jacket (one of the small victories you had won over the short, sour little man who you were unfortunate enough to work under. He hated the boots and the jacket but you were a good worker so he couldnt fire you for adding edge to your stupid old fashioned baby blue diner outfit. You relished in this fact) and walked out the door.

People usually didn't bother you on your walks. You weren't rich, you weren't a girl walking home by herself, you looked just as aimless and tattered as the rest of the gothamites that hung around on the sidewalks at night. Black dyed hair with your roots showing, piercings, some tattoos. Still, you never wore headphones. The walk to work was short and you'd rather deal with city noise than risk getting jumped. Gotham was getting colder now, it was nearly november and the air had already chilled enough to make water freeze over. When you arrived at the diner and stepped inside it was a welcome relief from the cold. You greated your other coworker, jack, and walked into the locker room to put your things away. The locker looked like it was from the dump. Rusted in spots, bent, stained. The only redeeming quality it had was a thick metal door and a built in lock. The back door to the diner was always open in case someone wanted a smoke break (at least that's what your boss told you so he would have to admit the metal is fucked up and to get it all the way closed he has to pull with the full force of his 220 pounds. ), sometimes people came in and poked around looking for money.

You quickly grabbed your sketchbook and a few pens, shut the door to the locker, and walked out to stand at the till and wait for the next customer. An old man with weathered skin and a tattered jacket sat in the back booth and sipped on a cup of straight black coffee. Aside from him the place was a ghost town. As you leaned against the counter you started to sketch in the little black book. What would he look like in real life? Would he be average looking, unremarkable, the most beautiful person you'd ever seen, or would he be a girl? Pretty, long hair, short hair, eyeliner? You figured he would be an eyeliner person. Faces quickly filled the spread, all the same but different in some ways, all smiling. When there was no more room to draw possible faces you began to outline a large question mark in the middle of both pages. It was already almost half way through your shift now and there was still no one. Your boss said it got slow at night but you didn't think he meant this slow. You leaned over the counter and grabbed a butter knife, laying your hand flat on the table and slamming the tip to the cold linoleum visible in between your fingers.

Suddenly, the doorbell jingled.

You nearly jumped out of your skin. For a moment you forgot the greeting that had been beaten into your brain by a year and a half of customer service.

"Sorry sir, I was spaced out and you scared me. Feel free to sit anywhere, What can I get for you?"

He smiled wide when he spoke - messed with his hands too. Like he was a child standing in line to buy a new toy. Giddy.

"I'd love a latte and a slice of pie"

He paused, then quickly added -

"Please."

You grinned back at him, it was genuine - not a customer service obligatory. The guy was sort of cute, brown hair, glasses, nerdy in a good way - and he seemed happy. Most people drudged around the city like their pet dog had just died, dripping with sadness and anger. It wasn't like you couldn't understand it, you were sure you looked the same way walking to and from work, you just enjoyed it when other folks seemed like they were in a good mood. It cut through the miasmic despair that seemed to hang over gotham.

"Sure thing, ill bring that right out for you."

He giggled and you almost made a cooing noise in front of him - went awwww like you would when you saw a cat. You'd never heard anyone audibly go "tee hee" before, at least.......

Not outside of the riddler's streams.

You quickly walked over to the display in the counter and cut a slice of pie to put on a plate, then made the latte. As you watched the coffee drip into the cup you bounced up and down on the soles of your feet, this could go badly if you weren't actually right and the guy at that table had seen the news but you really didnt care that much. Youd just offer him a refund. You had a gut feeling now that the connection had been made in your mind and you weren't about to ignore it. If you let him leave without giving him a way to talk openly with you you'd kick yourself everyday for the rest of your 20s. When the frothed milk had settled on the top of the coffee you grabbed a stirring stick and traced out a <?> shape.

Letting out a sigh you turned around and walked over to where he was sitting. As you set the cup and the pie down the man looked up at you in confusion.

"Edible art?"

Your heart sank. He didn't get it, he wasnt the one.

"Yeah, sorry. I draw a lot and I get bored on the night shift - sometimes I make people coffee art. "

You plastered on a wide smile to hide your disappointment.

"No, no I like it. You're talented, I dont think I could manage to scratch out a smiley face in a latte."

"Thanks. Do you need anything else?"

"Nope! Thank you."

As you walked away you stiffled tears, grinding your nails into your palm as you tried not to sob in the middle of the diner. It was a bad habit, sure, but you couldn't really stop. On bad days - days when it was harder to get out of bed, to eat, something as small as running out of your favorite hand lotion could leave you messed up hyperventilating on the floor for hours.

No one came in for the rest of your shift. You doodled more riddler, but this time it was just him. Just the mask and the jacket and the gloves. The not - riddler - riddler looking guy left 10 minutes before you got to go home. With a small smile and a 20 dollar tip, he made his way out the door. Your insides still felt heavy, your organs dense, but the mans kindness still made you smile to yourself. You took the tip and tried to split it with jack, but he had already left when you checked the kitchen. Probably at a party - he was two years younger than you were and a freshman in college, his earnings from the diner were always financed back into house parties, movies with friends, beer. You liked him. He was kind of a stereotype but he was a great coworker, pleasant, responsible, funny. With some disappointment you realized you hadnt chatted much before he left. You were too focused on -

yeah, you two hadn't talked a lot.

Sadness colored your movement as you put on your jacket and your messenger bag. Tonight you guessed you would wear headphones, listen to some leathermouth and blow off some steam. Front door - locked. Lights - off. Kitchen stuff - off. Back door - locked. You walked out the back and started walking back to your apartment.

Something felt off - like someone was looking at you. You spun around as you walked, checking to make sure no one was following you, the street was empty. The music you were playing drowned out the noises of the street and the cars, the night air was cool on the back of your neck. You looked out at the street as you walked. As much as you sort of hated gotham, the lights were night. Neon signs, cars, apartments, all gave off light like fireflies when it got dark. Even though you did miss the way the night sky seemed to be endless, black and void where you grew up, you liked it here too. The light pollution made you feel like you weren't alone.

All at once you felt leather covering your mouth, someone pulling you into an alleyway, and the feeling of being clamped by two arms to a warm body. You bit the hand but it didnt do anything, you just tasted leather and heard the person behind you snicker. Screaming didn't do anything and your attacker was too strong for you to properly loosen the grip he had on you - after a while you didn't have enough energy to kick or shake around anymore.

They held you close to them as you both breathed heavily, his were deeper than yours even though he hadnt been the one fighting for the last five minutes, you both just stood there and panted for what felt like hours.

The person holding you smelled like an old laboratory. Dust, cleaner, bleach, chemical.

You tried to speak.

"What now?"

It just came out as a muffled, garbled "wha whww".

A deep voice whispered in your ear -

"My footfalls make no sound yet Im quite a big thing, some people like me, some people hate the uncertainty I bring, when im around people often give presents, sometimes im good and sometimes im menace.

What am I?"

Your eyes went wide and you smiled into his glove out of relief.

"Riddler?"

He giggled behind you.

"Silly, that's not the answer."

You thought about asking him to cut to the chase, let you go, but he'd probably get mad if you didn't amuse him and give him a response.

After a minute you had your answer.

"Surprises?"

"Correct!"

With that he released you, you stumbled away from him and tried to regain your balance. You took a deep breath in and slowly turned back around to look at the man in the mask.

Your gaze swept over him, taking everything in. Your spit on the palm of his left glove, the worn combat boots wet from the rain, the glasses.

The glasses. The same one's the man in the diner wore. Guess he underestimated how smart you were. As you locked eyes with him you realized he was smiling.

"What do you think?"

You felt the corners of your mouth quirk up as you answered.

"It's beautiful."

i think ghostface holding a knife to my throat as he fucks into me would solve all my problems

i forgot that kaidou is canonically very flexible. he practically bends himself in half during the flexibility test during gym class. i want him.

read right to left

i started one piece the other day and let me just say,,,,,, sanji,,, omf i want him