#saleriddler

[blackiraven]

Another sale! Scriddler sketch and it was written for @likelytodiefromboredom and the rest of my readers! Thank you again very much for paying attention to me. I also want to thank those who requested my sketches anonymously.

I would like to write more and more often, but now I have a job and I don't always find the time and energy for this...😢 So here's a pretty big and very romantic story for you. I love you all!❤️❤️❤️

Bright flashes of lightning and thunder shaking the blackened skies caught my attention. Like a small child, I threw away what I had been doing before and rushed to the small and stained basement window. The man bleeding behind me crawled a little more on the concrete floor, then wheezed for the last time and fell silent forever with horror frozen on his face. A heavy downpour poured down. I was fascinated by the drops running on the glass and wiped the stained folding knife.

"It's raining. All mouse burrows are flooded. Small furry animals get entangled in the wet grass and drown… drown … and are afraid." the moonlight gradually faded and everything was plunged into darkness and frightening noise. Jets of water that hated dryness all their existence penetrated through the cracks in the foundation and spread over the bare walls.

"But the heron also needs to return to its nest."

The swamp grew and rose higher, dragging all the daredevils and losers into the quagmire. At the very last moment, when almost all my feathers were soaked through, I managed to fly into a two-story apartment and slam the door behind me. In response, the disgruntled thunder let out its roar in the sky, and lightning through the windows finally doused me with its blinding light. I stood there for a few minutes and just flowed, getting used to the silence, warmth and pleasant smells.

"Oh, Jonathan, you're finally back." Edward appeared in the dark hallway, the click of the switch instantly dispersed the darkness I preferred. The yellowish light of the bulb revealed to him my entire state. A wet suit, a drooping hat, not washed away bloodstains and a slight shiver from the cold in the knees and shoulders.

"Ah! Come with me, I'll make you something hot. I hope you're not hurt." running up to me, Nygma took my slippery hand and dragged me along. His gaze anxiously examined me for the presence of wounds and injuries.

"No. It's just… someone strongly resisted." I calmly follow him, leaving behind a small puddle. Having missed the fact that I had recently stabbed a man, Edward was glad that I returned in one piece, and accelerated his pace. He never once judged me…

I refused to take off my suit and mask, so Nygma could only wrap me in a few thick towels. I like that he always chooses a compromise option, I don't like to argue with him.

"Thank you…" faintly came out of my throat after another sip of hot coffee. Bones rested on a soft sofa, warmth and calmness actively sprouted in my chest. I was getting used to the light. Only here I can feel good and relax.

"It's all right, Jonathan. Tell me if you need anything." the little frog was jumping around smoothly, carefully wiping me with towels and squeezing out the wettest parts of the suit.

"There are no arms or legs, but it knocks on the windows and stomps on the ground. What is it?"

"Rain?"

"Right!"

There was a pleasant smell of something very tasty coming from the kitchen, which provoked prolonged rumbling in an empty stomach. How long have I not eaten? I don't remember. Edward's soft smile constantly caught my eye. He was no longer shy about going without a mask in my presence, and for a long time I did not dare to do the same thing. It's probably a shame… Thoughts about this come to me more and more often, especially when Edward is around. The mask has become a full-fledged part of my life, my second skin and a barrier behind which my past is hidden. But when we are together, the mask feels alien, wrong, a vestige. It's like my face is covered with a thick layer of dirt. I want to tear off the fabric soaked with sins with my nails, but suddenly my true face will push away a dear person?

"Edward… you…" I shyly lower my head and look at the remnants of coffee at the bottom of the mug.

"Yes, dear?" noticing my loss and concern, he sat down next to me. Every time the little frog calls me that, my withered heart shudders and burns with unfamiliar, but such pleasant feelings. A decent amount of time has passed since our confession, but we have not progressed further.

"Would you like to see me… without a mask?"

"Only if you really want to do it, Jonathan."

"I want to…"

"Are you sure, dear?"

"Yes. I can't take this anymore."

Edward carefully took the mug away, before patting my hands in a supportive manner. Trembling fingers slowly crept up to the damp mask and abruptly clutched at the worn fabric. It was as if she was desperately resisting my choice, squeezing, not letting me breathe and trying to merge with the skin. But I confidently extricated myself from the stranglehold and pulled off the mask. The fresh and warm air gave me an invigorating slap in the face. The tousled light golden hair kept my secret for a few more seconds, but a shake of the head finally completed it.

"Oh, my God…" his words trembled and slowly became unintelligible. Shaking his paws, Edward covered his mouth with all his fingers and stared at me with wide eyes in horror. Three broad, rough maroon scars burned on the snow-white skin. The first scar went a long way from the right edge of the forehead and reached the left temple. The second smooth bloody line is permanently located under my eyes and on the bridge of my nose. The third careless seam followed from the right cheek to the left cheekbone, touching and distorting my lips. It was as if flaps of skin had been torn off from me, which spoiled the relief of the whole face. I held my breath so that my insides wouldn't shake, and tried to look anywhere but at the shocked Nygma.

"Jonathan… what happened to you?" but he was really worried and didn't feel disgusted or afraid of me. Surprised, I turn my head and see a my little frog almost crying. It was as if he instantly experienced all my pain.

"It's all… my family inheritance." the scars immediately ached, pulled the skin and wriggled like three fat and voracious millipedes. Then, instead of a stick, in the hand of the woman who gave birth to me, there was a dry and thorny branch, which against my will forced me to try on a bloody mask. Scraps of skin and flesh with splashes of blood stained the grass. Rage and hatred boiled inside, my teeth gnashed, and my nails tore the soft earth. Then my blood-soaked eyes stopped seeing for an indefinite moment, and then acquired a new scarlet color. All the cruel and terrible fantasies oozed out through three unhealed wounds. Large drops fell from my chin and flowed into my mouth. It was a taste of humiliation, contempt and my own weakness, helplessness. No one was going to help me. I was constantly washing off the blood, it didn't stop in any way, and at night insects crawled over my face. I tried to seal them up, paint them over, hide them, just so that people around me wouldn't point a finger at me. But they were always with me now, and only the sight of a burning house with rats locked inside could calm my long-term pain. Other people's cold stares still continued to leave scratches and cracks on my soul, so I sewed this mask with my own hands and finally felt relieved.

"Jonathan?" a soft voice grabbed right at my heart and pulled me out of the turbulent flow of memories. I shuddered and exhaled loudly, clutching my knees. The heavy head drooped again.

"It's very terrible… But I don't think your face is ugly or disgusting."

"Really?.."

"Of course, my dear. I'm glad you trusted me with this. And if it's hard for you, then I will always support you."

These airy, but so valuable and once inaccessible words reverberated with a melodious echo in my head. But I still couldn't move, for fear of scaring away, dispelling everything that was happening. What if these are illusions? False perception? The velvet dream I've been begging from heaven since I was a kid? I was shaking, the air was tangled in my lungs and throat, claws were digging into the fabric and getting to the skin.

"Jonathan… Jonathan! It's okay, I'm here." Edward's whisper calmed me down and distracted me from my discomfort. Small, neat and warm hands reached out to my face. I didn't resist, immediately put my chin in his hands and closed my eyes. It shouldn't hurt… it's his hands… they're caring, they're not dangerous… The pads of his fingers gently stroked my scars, circled my lips and eyelids. The pain subsided, the stretched skin softened and stopped itching. Tears quietly poured down my cheeks.

"It's all right…" Nygma pulled me towards him. I obediently trusted him and rubbed against his hands, huddled against them like a skinned street cat. With a sharp jerk, I snuggle up to Edward and drown in his strong embrace. I lift my head so that our eyes met and froze. It became difficult to breathe because of the beating heart. Without the mask, it was now better to look at and admire my little frog.

"You're… just adorable." for the first time in all the years of my life, my crippled face caused someone to smile. I wanted to answer as well, but I have not yet learned to smile good-naturedly. Then Edward, blushing all over, squeezed his eyes shut and kissed me, after which he was surprised at his own act. It was so fleeting, just one light innocent touch of lips. But there was no stopping me, I needed more. I drag him from the sofa to my lap and resume our first kiss myself. I was also nervous because of the lack of at least some experience, but I continued anyway. My icy lips were saturated with my favorite warmth. We closed our eyes and studied hard on each other. For the first time I felt a pinkish heat on my cheeks. He burned and destroyed all layers of scab, melted blocks of ice, giving my soul lightness, and violently drove the blood through my veins. It was unforgettable and unique when our tongues touched and intertwined, when our lips became soft and plump due to frequent collisions. Nothing has ever brought me such pleasure and happiness, pure childish happiness. Edward mumbled sweetly, huddled close to me and stroked my head, and I squeezed him and crumpled his green jacket. My little frog… I love you so much, I adore you, I don't want to let you go. I will kill anyone for you, I am ready to die myself, if only you would continue to smile and rejoice. I am all yours, and you are all mine and only mine. This island in the middle of the swamp is a small paradise for a heron rejected by earth and heaven.

Because of pleasant feelings, I got lost in time. Our kiss seemed to last forever. I began to understand what movements and what pace Edward liked the most. It's amazing that I can do anything else besides pain and horror. And only my little frog deserves it.

"Dear. Dear?" Nygma was calling me, and I responded with a sharp awakening. It turned out that I dozed off a little during the kiss and buried my nose in his shoulder. But Edward didn't stop stroking my hair, running his fingers through the blond strands and covering my cheek with small kisses.

"Are you very tired?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll bring dinner now, and then you can go to bed."

"Are you… working again today?"

"Yes, but… today I can postpone my work."

[blackiraven]

Scriddler and their fetishes!🧡💚

I suddenly wanted to write headcannons on this topic. Therefore, I warn you in advance, turn around and leave before it's too late!✋

arkham! Scriddler

John. He stopped getting physical pleasure a long time ago. Ordinary sex is not able to bring him pleasure, but his love for Edward continues to live. Therefore, John created a special aphrodisiac to turn into an insatiable and cruel animal for a while, to drown in passion and be guided by an ancient instinct. Discreetly giving Edward his "love potion" is a real game for Crane. His secret invention can be a sudden injection, a powder sprinkled at the right moment, or a pill passed through a kiss. Sometimes, for piquancy, Edward's dose may contain milligrams of fear toxin. John also likes it when Edward is completely naked, but he himself is not.

Edward. Because of the peculiarities of his lover, he became very interested in sex toys. Edward can often send John erotic photos or videos to make Crane jealous. Yes, it really works. John is jealous of Nygma for vibrators (I worry about their relationship more than my own) Edward also likes to switch places sometimes and be on top. In such rare moments, the main goal for Nygma is to bring John to prayers for mercy with the help of his toys. First they will smash each other's faces, and then they will fuck roughly for six hours. Constant disputes over the top role. They take turns strangling each other.

sale! Scriddler

John. He likes to cause Edward great embarrassment and the brightest blush on his face. Since he has long claws, John always prepares Edward with his mouth. Most of all it excites him when Nygma puts on lace underwear and stockings. John also has to persuade Edward to complement his revealing costume with cat, rabbit and fox ears and tail. He always gets uncontrollable words of admiration and compliments from Edward, coupled with groans.

Edward. An unexpected discovery for him was the fact that bites, hickeys and scratches from John bring the same pleasure as all sex. Yes, Edward can achieve a separate orgasm from this. And if everything is combined, then Nygma will scream with ecstasy and lose consciousness. He also likes it when Crane uses his maniac nature, speaks threateningly and allegedly attacks and intimidates him. They have the longest and most passionate kisses. A lot of stroking and touching. They often arrange romantic secret dates so that no one sees them.

btas! Scriddler

John.

He loves it when Edward whispers all sorts of vulgar and dirty things in his ear, when he behaves, provocatively, so that he can fuck Nygma like the most expensive whore. John's favorite body part is Edward's breasts and nipples. His secret dream is for Edward to get nipple piercings. Nygma ponders this. He is strongly aroused by sex in places where there is a high risk of seeing them.

Edward. At first, he prefers to do everything himself and dominate John a little. The rider's poses and 69 are his most favorite. Crane is always gloomy, withdrawn, does not fully recognize their relationship, so Edward likes to drive him into a stupor, into embarrassment and annoy John with his flirting and harassment. This greatly liberates John, and he quickly takes all control into his own hands. When they are separated by distance, they arrange hot sex on the phone on lonely nights. To completely hit John, Edward specially learned to dance on a pole. A painful spanking, but from a loving heart.

author's version! Scriddler

My John

has a fetish for a Riddler costume. He seeks to tear or tear these expensive fabrics so that Nygma is partially naked. His caresses are very long, plus Crane secretly longs for Edward to sit on his face. Often lies in wait for Edward in the shower, in the kitchen or in his workshop. He can have sex several times in a row, but if Edward doesn't want to, he will listen to him. During orgasm, John constantly repeats "I love you, Edward."

My Edward also likes to dominate John, but more harshly. He shackles him and teases him for a long time, plays with him and does not give his body. As a result, the overexcited Crane gets really angry, gets rid of the ropes or handcuffs every time and attacks the too impudent Nygma. He likes to see John, with whom he has been in conflict for several years, as a wild animal. Secretly, Nygma likes it if Crane blindfolds him. After sex, John wants to cuddle in bed, and Edward wants to kick him out. If Edward lacks sex, he starts having erotic dreams with several Johns. If John lacks sex, he gets depressed.

[blackiraven]

Scarecrow had a nightmare for sale!scriddler, if you don't mind.

Of course! Here they are!✍

Ask is still open. If you want a couple of paragraphs from me - welcome!🤗

A match struck. The sound was so loud, but only I could hear it. A small, weak flame was desperately struggling with the thick darkness of the night. But soon I helped the yellowish light turn into a scarlet fire, devouring whole hectares. The darkness dissipated in fright. The old wooden house was completely burned down to the rotten foundation. The whole history of my family, all memories, all kindred blood were destroyed in one night with one match. I'm the only one left. The roof collapsed, fire drops flew in all directions and fell on a huge field. I have given this land almost all my life, but its burning pleased me.

Through the loud crackling of burning wood, screams and cries for help sometimes slipped lost in the fire. All the doors were closed, and I had a heavy bunch of keys. Finally. My torment is over. I got rid of my curse. Burn! Shout! Remember me before your death! Remember everything you've done to me. Call our precious mommy. But this time she won't save her pets, she won't hide them under her skirt, because my hands have previously turned her neck into a flexible rope. Now this creature sleeps forever, and the screeching of her children burning alive has become her last and eternal cradle.

Suddenly, the beautiful and overly bright picture began to change. The fear of tormented souls was replaced by bitterness. Smoking black hands reached out to me, grabbed me and dragged me into the hellfire I had created. No! Let me go! You deserve it! Leave me alone! You should be afraid of me!

"Decided to get rid of us, Johnny? You must be punished! Punished!"

The fire enveloped my body and tore off my skin. Blood boiled and foamed, bones smoldered. Fingers with exposed, sharp and red-hot phalanges clung to my face. My hair burned, my flesh hardened and cracked, blood flooded my whole face and darkened my eyes with a scarlet veil. There was nothing left but to scream in panic at the top of my voice and resist to no avail. The fire ran wild and devoured the boundless field at high speed. My only friends and listeners, a flock of crows, did not have time to fly to a safe place. They, too, disappeared into the sky-reaching wall of fire. No! It shouldn't be like this! They deserve it! Deserved it! My punishments must stop!

"…deserved it!.." stagnant hot air burst out of my chest. The body jumped at once, the hands twitched and squeezed the pillow. The claws almost tore the pillowcase. A dream… just a dream. I grunted with displeasure and rubbed my swollen eyes with my palms.

"It's all in the past… in the past… only I am left." I repeat this several times in order to even out my breathing. Through the slightly open window, a cool wind blew into the room, which soon calmed my inner heat. The drops of sweat dried up, drowsiness gradually returned, but annoying thoughts and throbbing pain did not leave my head. Squinting, I looked around and rummaged a little in the crumpled blanket. Right next to me was Edward, sleeping peacefully. One hand was holding on to the corner of the blanket, the other was raised above his head and laid on the pillow. It's a good thing I didn't wake him up. He worked for a very long time today, I barely managed to get Edward out of his office and persuade him to go to bed. I don't sleep well myself, so when I manage to get enough sleep, I want him to be with me. A calm, even peaceful look, parted lips and a quiet sweet sniff, which immediately began to calm me down. I quietly creep up to Nygma and nuzzle his shoulder. Just need to be patient a little and the pain will go away. It's so nice to have you with me. My hands took his palms by themselves, fingered his thin fingers and sometimes stroked his head. So good. This smell of paper, ink, newspapers and vanilla sugar reminds me that I am no longer alone.

"Mnh… huh? Jonathan?" Edward mumbled softly when I stopped holding back and just hugged him like a favorite toy. My response was silence and a careful kiss on the cheek. "Is everything okay, Jonathan?" he kept talking through his sleep and took my hand. "They… deserved it, didn't they?" I didn't want to say it, but my tongue let me down. Edward immediately woke up and turned to me. "Again?" he asked excitedly. Green eyes glittered in the dark. "Yes…" I didn't deny it. Edward knows that I am sometimes disturbed by such dreams. With a sad sigh, he slowly stretched out his arms. "Come to me, dear." and Edward hugged me and pressed me to his chest. It immediately became very convenient. All sounds were muffled and only the pounding of his heart filled my ears. I hugged Nygma tightly in response, naturally clung to him, wanting to drown in him. Now all thoughts were about Edward. He is so gentle, caring, understanding and all these values go only to me. Sometimes, it's hard for me to believe it. Sometimes, it all seems like a dream too. "It's okay… I'm with you." he whispered gently in my ear and stroked my head and the back of my head. In his arms, all the scars stop hurting, all the dark memories go away. I feel at peace and enjoy every second. "I… love you." "I love you too, my dear."

[blackiraven]

Well, I can do it again!📢

Continue to share my sale!scriddler headcannons with you! 🧡💚

Thinking about them makes me smile and cope with the difficulties of reality. So let's plunge into this sweet and cute romance together!🥰💕💕💕

The first part is here.

If you are suddenly interested in any other details, just ask me.

/a silly picture to attract attention/

Again. Unfortunately, I'm not an artist, I'm a writer, so I can make a lot of letters✍ (damn, this will now be my motto)

John and Edward rarely work together, they can discuss their plans, give each other advice or criticism, but they do everything separately.

If one managed to escape from Arkham, then he will definitely try to help the other escape. 

Sometimes Scarecrow can persistently follow Riddler like a shadow, and this scares everyone around, because Crane, of course, is very jealous and does not want to give his little sunshine offense. 

When John has been hiding for a long time and cannot get carried away with a new villainous idea, he will inadvertently engage in self-digging and moral suppression of himself. But if Edward is around, he will always comfort him, praise him, support him and stop the opening of old wounds.

The thought that someone loves him mutually can suddenly hit Crane in the head and shock him every time. 

Defeats hurt Edward badly. He can cry bitterly for a long time and destroy his notes and other works. To calm him down and cause a warm smile, John pretends that he cannot solve Nygma's riddles, that his head hurts from trying to think. And it helps.

Only to each other they can show their tears, grievances and tragedies. 

Scarecrow is the only one who knows the weakest point and the great fear of Riddler. It's tickling.

At the same time, Riddler knows that Scarecrow is always unlucky in the game "Rock-Paper-Scissors".

They always sleep in each other's arms. 

John has trouble sleeping, so he looks at Edward sleeping for a long time, stroking his head or holding his hands. 

Because of this problem, Jonathan may accidentally doze off, but Eddie will guard his sleep and carefully lay him on his lap or cuddle him to his chest. 

Edward is responsible for the food, because John does not know how to cook, and if he tries, there will always be a mess and something badly burned. 

Edward is happy to teach John how to cook sweet pastries, because he dreamed of learning this as a child.

[blackiraven]

Can you please write about how sale!scriddler draw each other?

As you wish!~✍

Once upon a time I drew. It was my only hobby and the only way to separate myself from the real world. My ridiculous dreams could exist on yellowed paper, fantasies splashed out on the pages and overshadowed the uninteresting text with their colors. The few people I liked could only be with me in the form of beautiful portraits. I could imagine and portray their joyful, loving faces, when in fact they looked at me with disgust and hatred every day.

Once upon a time I gave up drawing for many years. My talent was torn apart and trampled by those who admired my drawings. They only had to find out the artist's name... But now I want to remember and bring my youthful hobby back to life. For all the torments endured, fate as a reward sent me a muse and the only connoisseur of my "paintings" in one person.

Oh, my little frog, I like to draw you so much. It calms me down, I want to really smile. And finally, it's not my imagination that emerges on paper, but reality. Juggling shades of green every time fascinates me for hours. And it saves several lives from my hellish anger...

This time I decided to draw Edward sitting in his comfortable and soft chair, in which he likes to spend time reading. Nigma's hands were complicated on his knees, he himself leaned forward a little, as if greeting someone who would look at this drawing. He was smiling. This sweet, warm and kind smile that fills my heart with life every day. This gentle and caring look, for which I want to wake up and continue to breathe. I always devote the most time to these important details. The rest is easy. A slightly bulky suit with question marks that Riddler always embroiders by hand, a lush bow under the collar of his shirt and a funny bowler hat on his head. The colors were applied with light shading.

"Hmm... something is missing..." I was biting a colored pencil and looking at the drawing from different angles. Background? No. Frogs! The hand grabbed another pencil and began to quickly draw small amphibians. They were sitting on the back and armrests of the chair and on Edward himself. Their eyes were big and just as cute. The last, finishing detail of the picture - on the head of each frog was the same, but a tiny bowler hat. That's great! That's exactly what I wanted! In the lower right corner of the sheet I left a small signature "My prince of riddles and frogs".

"Edward."

"Yes, Jonathan?"

"This is for you."

"Oy, it's as beautiful as all your other drawings. Thank you!"

"Really?"

"Of course, my dear. What gives away a good artist? His doubt in his works."

"Edward, you... Can you draw me?"

"But, Jonathan, you know what... I don't know how to draw."

"It doesn't matter to me. I will value even a blots from you."

"Well... I do not know..."

"...please, Edward..."

When Scarecrow that frightens many Gotham residents whispers and barely says "please," my refusal will be the biggest sin in life. Jonathan wanted to watch me draw, but I was able to kick him out of my office and close the door. This is too exciting a process for me! A stack of paper plopped down on the table, a tall plastic cup filled with pencils and felt-tip pens. An empty white sheet made me sigh loudly and tragically. I drew only as a child, but it turned out badly, like all children, but my parents didn't like it. I haven't painted since...

"Where does each picture begin? The answer is an idea." fingers were tapping on the table, then they took a black pencil and unwound it in every way. In what setting should I draw him? At home, where he is calm and feels good? Or in the maelstrom of Gotham crime, where he has a share of power? The first sheets with the wrong lines were crumpled up and thrown into the trash. Each time I stubbornly sharpened the pencil, as if it made a significant difference. I could draw Jonathan without a mask, but in my performance it will definitely turn out terrible.

Sometimes I looked at Crane's new drawing. It's so beautiful, naturalistic, I appreciate and keep each of them. I'll never be able to draw the same way. After agonizing minutes, the crooked strokes began to take shape. The night sky, consisting of primitive clouds and stars. A large circle in which dense layers of white and yellow were superimposed on each other. Moon. I hope he understands. The whole sheet was painted over, I randomly drew pencils on the white surface, as children usually do. But to some extent it was fascinating. In the very center of the gray-black space loomed a Scarecrow. Angular and sometimes disproportionate. Is he soaring through the clouds? Or just enjoying a quiet night? I don't know... His long hat wrapped around and held the moon, and his mantle rushed down and covered the supposed city. Behind Scarecrow of large and five-pointed orange stars, my author's constellation of heron was lined up. Graceful, majestic and dangerous. To have the trust of this bird is a great honor and achievement. What happened was already a pity to throw away. He should like it, Jonathan never reproached me for mistakes, as absolutely everyone used to do, even when I did a perfect job. My drawing was also completed by a small signature: "My heron, bringer of night and terrible dreams."

"Please, Edward, show me this."

"Okay... um... here."

"This..."

"Jonathan?.."

"Amazing. I'm loving it. Very."

"Are you serious, dear?"

"Yes. Can I watch you draw next time?"

[blackiraven]

I've finished my little sale!scriddler fanfic! I hope you enjoy this story.

If you want me to write you a small scriddler paragraph, ask is open👉👈

I remind you! 53 people voted for this fan fiction. And I have one question. Where are you all?!

[blackiraven]

Hmm, I didn't expect that many of you like my sale!scriddler headcannons. Thank you for enjoying these sugar ideas with me!🤗💖

Some thoughts have recently crept into my head and do not give me rest, so it's important for me to find out...

[blackiraven]

You voted - Blacki fulfills a promise!📢

As soon as I finished my master's thesis, I immediately started writing this story. Oh, it's like a breath of fresh air!

Since Ao3 is blocked for me, I will post it here. There was a lot of text, so this is only the first part of the story. The continuation depends only on your interest (I still remember that 53 people voted for this fanfiction!😑😑😑)

Unfortunately, I'm not an artist, I'm a writer, so I can make a lot of letters✍

Enjoy your reading (very bad English) I'm sorry, but I'm not good at rhymes and children's fairy tales, so I had to improvise.

Heron and Frog. Part 1.

People in white coats – they remind me of chess, that they unceremoniously rush all over the board and do not follow the rules of the game. But I hate chess and I'm not going to become a figure of the opposite side. They quickly get used to permissiveness and therefore are horrified when I break the rules and shake their only support. White pawns fall, crushed, and meanwhile I run out of the playing field. I was driven by bitterness and a thirst for revenge, I didn't even stay to enjoy the torment of the Arkham staff. Now I have a specific goal and I can't delay, I can't waste the hourglass minutes. I can't let a Bat grab me or follow me around.

The night covered me, the darkness built an invisible path over the roofs of buildings, and the rain absorbed all sounds and thoroughly washed away my tracks. My previous plan was perfect and Batman couldn't find me. But at the very last moment he gave me away! Riddler... the keeper and trader of valuable information. This pathetic frog is constantly jumping from one bank to the other. Finds and sells information to us, but can also help the police and Batman. One thing unites everything – the inhabitants of both shores will break their heads from his riddles. And this is only part of the whole problem. While the Bat was breaking my bones under the guise of justice, someone stole two bottles of my toxin!

"The heron is very angry, the heron is very hungry. Chop-Chop. Hop-hop. Now I would like to eat a delicious frog." I fly between houses, sometimes knocking and scratching with my claws on window panes to wake up and scare sleeping people. The fear that disturbed sweet dreams gave me strength and gave free rein to fantasies. The distance between us was gradually shortening, as I knew the shortest way. A small amphibian got into the affairs of the bird and revealed all the secrets to the bat. Are you really so afraid of being eaten, Nigma? Well, you've made a big mistake and you're going to pay for it. If it weren't for the overly brazen theft of my creation by some petty bandits, then you would have a slim chance of staying alive…

That's an inconspicuous two-storey apartment, merging with the rest in the area, but it's not so easy to get here. The door is closed with several locks, and the bell is hidden in a recess in the wall. Only the right people know the password. But such security can at some point turn a cozy house into a death trap. He's there, in his nest, hidden in the thick grass and cattails. Thoughts of the frog, who suspects nothing and crawls in the soft vegetation, excited the appetite of the heron that swooped down to this swamp. I managed to open the closed window quickly and without making a sound and get into the thicket. Rainwater trickled down to the floor from the suit protecting me from the cold and getting wet. Steam was coming out of my mouth, my eyes were frantically searching for a small green body. The bed was empty and made up, everything was quiet and tidy in the kitchen and in the bathroom, every thing was in its place. Only the first floor remained, where his office and a small library-archive are located. Yes, in Arkham I studied the plan of this house every day and imagined what was in each room, what my target could do before his punishment. If Riddler is not here, then I am ready to wait for his return for hours or days, going over the torture options in my head.

The floorboards didn't creak under my weight, but the water squished treacherously after each step, so I went down carefully so as not to scare off the prey. He was standing in front of the bookcase, with his back to me, and was flipping through some book. My successful hunting. My sweet revenge. Can't sleep? Then I'll send you to eternal sleep.

"The heron sat in a cage for a long time. The heron is terribly hungry. Why not eat a juicy and chatty frog?" my tall and wide shadow threateningly covered Riddler. A folding and serrated knife clattered in my hand. A sharp beak that is ready to disassemble a frog carcass. The short man turned around sharply and did not even have time to shout out of fright, as I pounced on him and grabbed him by the throat. The scream I had caught could not get out in any way and writhed under the skin. The book with the mixed pages crashed to the floor. From my strong grip, Nigma wheezed loudly and began to choke, and I played with him like a wild dog with a fragile toy. At first I let him take one breath, and then I squeezed his neck hard and enjoyed a new portion of agony.

"Come on, show me the courage with which you told Bat about me." I hissed in the ear of Riddler, having previously picked him up and slammed him into the bookcase so that all the contents fell to the floor.

"Please... no… Scarecrow… I didn't... want..." gritting his teeth, he literally coughed up every word. The frog's paws twitched uncontrollably, all ten fingers clutched at my wrist. So thin, so weak, like a straw figurine… Wonderful. I want to squeeze the soul out of this trembling body all night, to the very last drop.

"Yes, try to distract me with your croaking from the desire to eat." I relax my hand a little, but I continue to hold Riddler above the floor. When he joyfully began to breathe deeply, I immediately interrupted this moment and brought the sharpened knife to his face.

"Every heron knows from hatching that delicious frogs still live and chatter for a while if you rip open their soft bellies." the tip of the blade and my eyes shone equally, with cold, with danger. It took only one movement to paint my instrument in the same scarlet color as my eyes were. Feeling my smile stretching to my ears under a thick mask, Nigma howled plaintively and whined. The small notches of the knife, capable of tearing flesh like a flock of hungry piranhas, made him cry and sob softly. And I didn't even have to carry a scythe with me. Frogs are so timid and funny…

"I didn't want to... I didn't want to! But Batman... also came to me and... his demands to find out everything were... very weighty." the black mask quickly soaked with tears pouring from the rapidly blinking green eyes. With his twitching, he was able to point out a large dent in the wall where the desk stood. Surprisingly, it turned out to be very familiar, since the relief of Batman's fists is remembered quickly. Hmm, and I thought that Riddler decided to completely become his faithful dog.

"That's not enough, Riddler. I was robbed because of you!" I squeeze the thin neck again, but this time I dig my long nails into the stretched skin, rubbing it until it bleeds like files.

"I know... I know! And I've been looking for them... lately! Please!" little frog screamed so much in horror and slight pain that tickling goosebumps ran through my body, and my insides fairly stirred. Warm drops rolled down my palm. A sweet for me smell reached my nostrils. Now I didn't want to end it all with a quick kill. What was happening now gave me more pleasure and amused my grievances.

"Really? Then, little frog, tell the heron about what is happening at the bottom of the swamp." I do not restrain my malicious laughter and insidious grin. His crying caressed my ears. I wanted to throw him up and catch him like a ball. He's so light, like he's hollow inside. The same Hatter, my colleague, is much shorter than Nigma, but at the same time hard and heavy as a cobblestone. When I raised my index finger, Riddler squeezed his eyes shut and shrank all over, but instead of maiming, I poked him in the cheek, thereby squeezing a blissful squeak out of him. For a second it seemed to him that he died from my touch, but then he was surprised that he continued to breathe.

"Table... on the table!" groaning and gasping, the tortured frog was already choking on his whining. Mentally sated for a while, I let him go, just threw him on the floor like a used rag. Riddler immediately grabbed his throat, which, presumably, was unbearably sore after several attempts at strangulation and inflicted wounds. While I was slowly pacing to the desk and proudly shaking my "feathers", Nigma huddled in a corner between the cabinets and tucked his trembling paws. Among a small stack of copies of police reports and clippings from fresh newspapers was a map showing the place of my capture and possible escape routes of the brazen robbers. A small piece of paper with dates and addresses written in a column was glued to the map. Hmm, it looks like the frog was aware of his act and expected an angry heron.

"Addresses. Here the heron will be able to find the worms collected by the frightened little frog?" licking the blood that has not yet dried from my hand, I turn back to Riddler. The short-term freedom was enough for him to catch his breath and recover, but Nigma still shuddered from every movement I made.

"No-no." getting to his feet and wiping tears from his face, Riddler carefully, almost on tiptoe, jumped up to me and began to put the papers in different piles.

"When I found out that two bottles of fear toxin were missing after your arrest, I immediately started searching and connected all my informants to this case. Because... um... what will a Scarecrow do if someone else starts scaring crows? The answer is he will be very angry..." he feverishly and with a guilty expression on his face showed me small articles telling about minor crimes in which the victims were... too scared. But not enough to suspect me. Very similar to the effect of the minimum doses of my gas. And it happened at this addresses. Is my piece of chemical art being used for petty robberies?! Now it is clear why Bat is not interested in this and the whole investigation has fallen on the back of the plush amphibian. But I liked such pleas for mercy.

"Then... I won't kill you, Nigma. But you have three days to find the names and burrows of these worms." leaving memorable deep scratches on the corner of the table, I grabbed him by the collar of his jacket with a sharp jerk and dragged him to me.

"Otherwise, the heron will swallow a delicious little frog and will enjoy his death throes in stomach!" I press his face to mine to see my own reflection in the green beads and taste pure, childish fear. The wrinkles on his forehead became more prominent, drops of sweat trickled down his temples, pale lips pursed, and raised eyebrows almost reached each other.

"Yes... yes... the frog will feed the heron!" Riddle literally nodded with his whole body and swallowed the tangles of fear and excitement tangling in his throat. His palms instinctively rested on my shoulders and tried to push me away. Warm…

"What a responsible and cowardly frog. So that you don't float away on the first water lily, I will always look after you..." I turned Nigma around and pressed his back to my chest.

"No! Not that..." unfortunately, I had to interrupt these innocent bleating. I put my whole palm over his mouth and nose. A fine amber powder fell from the small pocket of my glove. Mixing with the air, it turned into a good dose of the fear toxin. And I forced Riddler to breathe it all into his lungs, so that all the fresh air would be replaced by flying horror, so that a part of me would circulate in his blood. He was kicking and lashing my arms furiously, but this only increased my strength. Ah, I'm like Luigi Galvani, and Nigma is the object of my experiments. Loud grunts filled the whole room, the frog's heart was about to explode like a fragmentation grenade. From lack of air, his eyes filled with new tears and rolled up.

"Now only be afraid of my wings, little frog." after making sure that all the powder was used for its intended purpose, I released Riddler, who played for me a beautiful melody of painful wheezes, groans and squeaks. At a fast pace, it turned into a loud orchestra of screams, panic and sobs. This is my gift for you. He was trembling, huddled into a ball on the floor, and I was stomping around him and scaring him with my shadow.

"No!.. Don't touch me!.." his voice twitched, broke, and his hands covered his head. So be it, frog, I'll have time to torment you yet. To beat and physically break such a lovely creature is an unattainable crime even for me. But I can easily break your soul and mind. In the meantime, do something important.  

"Tick-tock. Hurry up, little frog. The heron wants the fattest worms."

[blackiraven]

Do you want to get a lot of letters from me, honey?~ Then ask is open✍🌚

Hello everyone! I decided to try out challenge for writers for the first time. If you want to see my scriddler sketches, then ask me. I can write in Russian and in English, so you can also specify your preferred language. There are not so many ideas, I'm sorry. You can also specify details or offer your idea. Thank you in advance!🙏

Versions I can write about:

arkham!

sale! 

btas!

author's version!

You can find out more about my version here.

List of ideas:

Medical care

Drawing each other

One of them had a nightmare/had an attack

Dance

Jealousy

In the rain

Kissing

Holding hands

One meets the other after escaping from Arkham

🎁Surprise-an idea from the author🎁