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Born: 14 October 1989
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alias: Sigyn !
player age: 23
player pronouns: She/Her
character age: Twenty-eight
occupation OR house/set/dorm + year: Chief of Staff to the U.K. Minister of Magic
relationship status: "I hope you know, Oswald, I would do anything for you."
small gif #1 (canon):
small gif #2 (face claim):
character fandom: Batman
app/shipper: 1768
thread tracker: 93&view=findpost&p=7822
canon spirit: Edward Nygma/The Riddler
patronus: Platypus
boggart: His father
time zone: GMT
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Joined: 30-October 16
Status: (Offline)
Last Seen: Oct 17 2017, 03:10 PM
Local Time: Oct 17 2017, 08:37 PM
518 posts (1.5 per day)
( 3.13% of total forum posts )
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edward nygma


My Content
Oct 14 2017, 05:49 PM
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Settling into a new house, a new life, was never easy. And though Ed <i>hated</i> any suggestion that he was in the same boat as all the poor little orphans Oswald had 'rescued' as well, he couldn't help but admit that their situations were similar. Of course, no one else in the house worked with Oswald on a regular basis. No-one else was trying as hard as he was to make it up to the man, looking up to him like he was the king of the world and not simply the Minister of Magic. And no-one else had kissed him.
It had been a few days since then, though Ed was still feeling a little... lighter than usual. Honestly, the following interactions had been quite awkward really, blushing and fidgeting and not really knowing what to say to each other, like two schoolboys and not two fully grown adults. But then that was the level of experience they had after all, so perhaps such a reaction was no surprise.
Ed was of course swallowed up in these thoughts as he wandered back through the corridors of the house, and was thrown quite sharply back into reality by the sound of a scream coming through a nearby door. And while the logical thing to do would be to knock on the door and wait to hear if the person on the other side was okay, Ed hadn't been pulled down to Earth <i>quite</i> thoroughly enough, because he was soon letting himself in to the bedroom.
It had been Evan screaming, though he wasn't quite sure how he'd been able to tell it was her from that noise alone. Perhaps he'd just subconsciously registered which room it had come from. But either way, when he opened the door he was surprised to see there was no attack in progress on the other side. In fact, Evan was asleep, but as a sufferer himself, it wasn't hard to connect the scream he'd heard to a nightmare as he watched her thrash. <b>"Evan,"</b> he called across to her, flicking on the light so he wouldn't just be a shadowy figure in the doorway. <b>"Evan, wake up."</b> Quite the boring response to a nightmare admittedly, but it worked. Calling their name, reminding them to wake up because its not real, worked far better than anything more dramatic.. Well, hopefully anyway...

<img src="" style="width:75px;height:75px;border:4px solid #0F6F4A;"> evangeline riot</div></center>[/dohtml]
Oct 5 2017, 09:48 PM
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Though it wasn't technically part of his role as the Chief of Staff, Ed frequently found himself wandering towards the technomagic department of the Ministry of Magic building, just so he could have a look around. <i>Technically</i> the whole Ministry fell under his jurisdiction so there was no reason he <i>couldn't</i> be here. There was just very little reason why he should be. Besides the odd connection he had with an old friend who worked there, and his personal fascination with the subject as a whole of course.
There was no-one to halt him as he approached the main office area, and he soon found himself wandering deeper into the department, carefully avoiding catching anyone's eye so no-one stopped to question why he was here. Which meant he could quite casually peruse some of the documents lay around on the more important looking desks in the area: sketches and blueprints and designs of hundreds of different inventions. his eyes fell across one particularly interesting looking idea for a 'floo powder communication screen'... so video chat basically but the person who'd been scribbling all these notes about it was clearly not from a muggle background so had no idea what that was...
Of course, as Ed bent over the paper to read it more closely, a small grin beginning to wiggle onto his face as his enthusiasm began to build past the professional exterior, he was no longer paying attention to the rest of his surroundings. Like, for instance, if someone nearby had noticed that he was very clearly snooping.

<img src="" style="width:75px;height:75px;border:4px solid #0F6F4A;"> gladys johnson</div></center>[/dohtml]
Oct 3 2017, 12:32 PM
2002 | Crane household

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He'd never been invited back to the house before, this was very exciting! He'd not actually technically been invited back this time either, but Jonathan hadn't said no and pushed him over when he'd suggested he come back with him this evening. He hadn't said <i>yes</i> either but... that was fine too!
Ed had practically skipped home behind the other boy, not putting too much effort into hiding how happy he was about this most recent turn of events. He'd chattered some vague sort of nonsense into Jonathan's ear the whole way back, but had finally gone quiet when they'd reached the tall, dark and spooky house. It looked like something out of a horror movie. And the inside really wasn't much better either.
It wasn't very... clean. Or particularly tidy, and Ed had a sudden desire to a void touching the walls as soon as they were inside. It was... interesting. Strange.
But then so was Jonathan. Although Ed couldn't help but let out a very surprised,
<b>"Wow your house is horrible!"</b> when he'd finally taken in the place.

<img src="" style="width:75px;height:75px;border:4px solid #0F6F4A;"> Jonathan Crane</div></center>[/dohtml]
Oct 1 2017, 08:46 PM
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Of all the ways one could describe the manic sort of energy radiating from Edward Nygma at almost all times of the day now, nothing really captured it quite as well as ‘giddy’. It was the same kind of unbridled excitement a child has on Christmas morning, trying hard not to bounce around the room as they wait to see if any presents have been magically delivered over night. Not that Christmas had ever been much of a day to be excited about in Ed’s childhood – and it was certainly nothing close to matching the thrill that encircled every moment of his current life.
With his latest broadcast now aired to the country he ruled over with more power than the Ministry could ever have dreamed to hold, he was free to spend the rest of his day however he pleased. And as usual, there was only one person he wanted to share his time with… well for now anyway. He had numerous plans for later (of course he did, he had a whole country to play with, he couldn’t just sit around <i>all</i> day) but his dear sweet Ozzie always got an hour with him first after he’d finished his daily ‘show’. When all this had begun, though it felt like eons ago now, his routine had been destroyed by the hectic hustle and bustle of organising all the little details. It was incredibly comforting to be able to fall back into something resembling a structure again.
It wasn’t far between the little improvised studio he used, and the place that had become his home ever since he’d flipped the switch and taken power, so he’d only been off the screens for a few minutes before he'd reached the secluded penthouse apartment he’d chosen as his base. <span style="color:#0F6F4A"><b>“Another day, another message. Now to await a response from my dear public,”</b></span> he announced as he walked in through the door, throwing the bright green jacket he’d been wearing down on the nearest chair where it glittered and glinted in the sunlight from the window. Defended to the hilt and impossible to trace, this expansive flat was perfectly stylish (thanks in no small part to Oswald’s efforts) while still being incredibly safe. Ed had of course ensured his own existence would be as luxurious as possible before he’d set about affecting the lives of others. <span style="color:#0F6F4A"><b>“I think it is safe to say my apotheosis is complete by now, don’t you think Ozzie?”</b></span> His tie was thrown onto the same chair and the top button of his shirt unfastened to complete his transformation into ‘informal’ attire. Apparently the purple waistcoat embroidered with gold threaded question marks was still necessary for casual wear. But then Ed had never been very good at getting 'casual' right.
He crossed over to Oswald, arms immediately wrapping around his waist and pulling him in close, leaning down to kiss the other man before he had an opportunity to protest. <span style="color:#0F6F4A"><b>“And how are you my little Antarctic angel? Did you see today’s challenge?”</b></span> His gaze lifted to the large window behind his partner, where one of the many screens he’d set up was clearly visible, and he continued on before Oswald could answer. <span style="color:#0F6F4A"><b>“Of course you did. Well, what do you think? Do the lesser primates have a chance of succeeding?”</b></span> He barley paused for breath before answering his own question. <span style="color:#0F6F4A"><b>“It’s quite hopeless, I’m sure. At least it’ll give their brains some exercise, Merlin <i>knows</i> they need it. I suppose I’m doing them a service in that area.”</b></span> He grinned, taking the opportunity to kiss the smaller man again briefly before adding, <span style="color:#0F6F4A"><b>“If they ever do win their freedom again, I will have improved the thinking capacity of the entire country. Actually they really should be thanking me for that.”</b></span>

<span style="color:#0F6F4A"><b> </b></span>


<div style="width: 400px; text-align: right; font-size: 10px; color: #0F6F4A;"><b>oswald cobblepot / 633</b><br>
<i>Oh, it's such a perfect day, I'm glad I spent it with you<br>
Oh, such a perfect day, you just keep me hanging on</i></div></center>[/dohtml]
Sep 28 2017, 03:27 PM
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There was a reason he didn’t go out in public alone very often anymore. He finally felt comfortable at work (not because people were any more pleased to have him there, but because he no longer really cared what they thought), and he’d never felt happier than when he was at home with Oswald or Harley. But it was impossible to live in only those two places, away from the rest of the world. And though the way people stared at him always gave him the slightest thrill whenever he stepped out among the public, that always died out the moment the whispering started.
He couldn’t blame them of course, he <i>was</i> still hot gossip. From insane murderer, to hot shot in politics in a matter of months, not to mention all the rumours about why the Minister of Magic would <i>really</i> take such a big and personal risk on him: there really was a lot to talk about. And on some days he would even encourage it, engage with people, counter their misconceptions, and prove he was a changed man. It had all just been a mistake, a bad time in his life, and if they’d <i>just</i> give him a second chance, he’d prove he was worth it.
Except… very few people sounded like they were willing to offer him one. Oswald had of course, that was why he was here. And the odd other person had accepted his word on the matter too, but there were very few of those. Far smaller than the amount of people <i>actively campaigning</i> to have him thrown back into that hellhole of an asylum. And then when you included all the people who weren’t forcibly trying to get him removed from his job, but who would glare or spit or shout in his direction when he passed by… the numbers were huge. And it was honestly hard not to feel like he was drowning beneath it all sometimes.
Today was a day of the more common variety anyway: a day when he was not in any mood for the negativity, but was forced to grit his teeth and face it head on anyway. If he hid indoors for his whole life then they’d won, hadn't they? And he wouldn't let that happen. So instead, he was forced to walk down the high street with his head held high, pretending he couldn’t hear a word of what the morons were all saying about him. And it had been going well… for a while. But as he paused for a moment to window shop from the pavement beside a famous technomagic establishment, and heard a particularly nasty comment about Oswald’s apparent 'lack of intelligence' for taking such a worthless risk, he felt his patience snap. Turning on his heels (with one hand hovering beside the pocket his wand was waiting in, though he wasn’t consciously aware he was doing that), he froze when his eyes landed on a familiar face while attempting to seek out the aggressor.
<span style="color:#0F6F4A"><b>“Professor Hawkins?” </b></span>

<span style="color:#0F6F4A"><b> </b></span>


<div style="width: 400px; text-align: right; font-size: 10px; color: #0F6F4A;"><b>jim hawkins / 508</b><br>
<i>Yes I think I'm okay, I walked into the door again<br>
If you ask that's what I'll say, And it's not your business anyway<br>
I guess I'd like to be alone, With nothing broken, nothing thrown.</i></div></center>[/dohtml]
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