#cant believe its 2025 what a made up year

[tryintheirbest]

my resolutions for 2025:

1. dress gayer

2. get weirder

3. read more books

[serv0z]

cant remember if i posted these here yet but !! huzzah !! the refs I made for and before the Phony pmv yapping about it under the cut!!

All of this is based on how I view them and the timeline. Personally I think its: Fredbears opens sometime in the mid-to-late 70s, during this time the fnaf 2 location opens up within a year or two of Fredbears debut. Somewhere between 1982-1983 (pre-bite) Circus Babys opens up and then closes that very same day (Elizabeth dies). Following this is FNaF 4 at Fredbears where the place lasts about another year or 2 before closing in 1985. (Charlie dies in this period of time and the missing childrens incident takes place.) Little note is after SB shuts down the rental reopens !! Thats why its open by the time Michael goes there. FNaF 2 location shuts down 2 years after in 1987 due to the bite + the tampering of the animatronics. Shortly after the FNaF 1 location is properly opened up and deemed 'safer' since they aren't allowed free-roam in the day. Of course everything goes to hell here and the place begins to shut down in 1993 (during which the game takes place). Then SL happens at an unknown time between here (maybe 2 years after? in 1995? not sure) followed by FNaF 3 in 2023 (i do NOT believe ffps takes place in 2023 it doesnt fit at ALL). I think FFPS takes place about 2 or 3 years after in 2025 or 2026. I dont have anything for SB or HW bc it wasnt the focus so nfkjfn hopefully this all makes sense, at some point i may do refs of the missing children but because this was michael centric I mainly drew refs for him. I figured Michael looks more like his dad (especially by SL bc. yk.) and Elizabeth looks more like their mom,, Evan is somewhere inbetween. Michael and Elizabeth got their moms freckles, Evan didn't!! All of them got her darker skin though since Williams a fucking ghost. I am all for the hc of Michael tanning in fnaf 4 its so stupid and def smth a 14 year old boy trying to fit in would do I know I posted some of my Michael ideas like 2 years ago? Specifically post-SL. I feel the scooper wasnt completely centered, aiming more to his left side rather than completely centered. The damage was done, shattering his ribs and spine and really that arm was unsalvagable. I think hes replaced parts of himself with metal, like using it to connect to whats left of his spine to be able to stand properly, making a new arm either alone or with help from Henry or smth as well as needing a cane and/or leg braces to keep himself balanced. It's not farfetched since William in the books literally does something similar and it would help him look "normal". I also made the outfit bright and colorful to help sell the act. FFPS has some pretty bright colors for their front and to tie it in I added pink to his design and made it more fun and interesting, especially since he'd be around and children would be running past him and adults keepig an eye and such and the mask would probably be pretty intimidating if he didnt make it a bit more cute. Yes, that is the bow he was wearing during FNaF 1 btw!! Michaels necklace in fnaf 4 was a gift from his mom. Cant decide if i want her to leave or she passed. I think maybe if she left michael went with her? after 87 i mean. some point during those years she died and he was living on his own before returning to figure out the things his father left behind and try to find him, returnning for fnaf 1 and forward. Michael living with his mother is WHY he never noticed anything with William, he was still grieving his siblings and William would be too focused on his work to support him at all. His mom helped him work through some things, got him into therapy which he promptly dropped a bit after she died because he just. didnt have the motivation. He was alone before ending up back in Hurricane and looking for his father and learning all the atrocities committed.

I feel like Elizabeth being the youngest just. makes sense in my mind? Maybe its a personal preference but. Evan gives me middle child vibes more than youngest. Not to play into stereotypes but; older sibling having to be the 'responsible' one (and then rebelling this idea), the middle child being overlooked or ignored (nobody stopped the bullying.) and the youngest being given her very own animatronic (implimented with things she enjoyed.) side note if u call elizabeth a brat or spoiled im legally allowed to shoot u!!!!!1 Elizabeth also just. sounds very young to me with her voice and how she acts. It all gives off 'young child' rather than 'spoiled brat who gets anything she wants' yk? Her dying first ALSO just makes sense, especially witht he idea Evan saw it. She dies, he witnesses it and nobody believes him and shes just declared missing. the place goes down and its declared a 'gas leak' rather than 'my sister got eaten by an animatronic'. (I figure mrs afton is grieving and thats why she doesnt notice the bullying often.) It also works with the fnaf 4 scenario. William being fed up with him whining, not wanting to be given away by his own child so a plushie he can talk through and monitor him through, as well as setting up the illusion disks inside the room. The nightmares weren't just bad dreams, they are implied (at least from what i recall from the trilogy and ucn lines) to be real. it ties into his fear; animatronics with stomach mouths that have come to swallow him whole for what he saw. tormenting him. Its not just a bad dream to him, these are either based on how he percieves them or how he explained what he saw and William used this against him. The test with illusion disks began here. (it could also explain michael knowing abt them later in via security log book!!! the disks didt just vanish!!) This also curb stomps the idea william only began killing due to the 'loss of his children'. Not even possible. Look at the blueprints of the funtimes and compare. Those things were designed to lure, trap and kill from the very beginning. Circus babys was one of the VERY FIRST buildings to open, it just became a rental cental solely after shutting down where they were tortured and experimented on. He made these LONG before 85. anyways thats just my interpretation of the whole thing up to ffps. I dont remember everything from AR, hw, hw2, sb and ruin enough to make my own opinions on its timeline (i do have strong opinions on whats happened during it and right before but nothing leading up the opening or years and such) I mainly grew up heavily fixated on the base games, nothing really past ffps. as for Henry, he was briefly as bad as William with his work I think. If i picked up anything from the books and even the games, he was heavily focused on his work that he didn't notice his daughter die and had an animatronic watching over her instead of himself or family. i dont know if Sammy would exist in gameverse. If he did I imagine he either died/went missing very early on causing mrs. emily to leave, mrs emily left WITH him or he simply didnt exist bc Henry only focuses on Charlie here so either his son odesnt exist in this world or hes gone in some way shape or form. Henrys design is pulled from the books a bit. I wanted to make him bigger? William is slim and maybe a bit offputting but hes charming enough to get out of things. and Henry is more enthusiastic and rounder, having a loud and happy voice. I think he truly enjoyed making Fredbears happen. Cant decide if I wanna say he was in the Fredbear suit when Charlie died (giving cake) or if he was in a backroom working on things. Whatever it is I also think William tried to pin things on him. Errmm!! thats all i hve to say rn :3 its 8am im so tired so if this makes no sense. mb gang

[goldenhickeysandramen]

The (ephimeral) success of solo projects on Chapter 2

I wanted to write a post about chapter 2 and Jimin, the "sabotages"... but I don't know if I'm able to sort out the facts and my ideas or judgements about them properly. Nothing is clear to me yet.

There are days when a part of me believes that something is going on with Jimin and Hybe (or BH, I don't know which). But there's another part, the rational part, the part that works as an economist for 20 years, that knows that it doesn't make much sense for a for-profit company to boycott one of its most valuable assets.

In the Executive Boards, and in financial planning, decisions are made on the basis of economical evidence, which is always provided by current numbers (or estimates), not by the heart. Maybe even in the case of BTS there is some sense of fairness, I would say, at the outset. And not an asymmetric distribution according to profit projections.

In the trade-off I find myself in, I would like to share the following thoughts:

- I have recently realised that Chapter 2 is not the chapter of their solo career. It is the chapter of their solo work, which is slightly different.

- Most of them has a short time to promote their work. The average has been a "several weeks" window.

- Their success is therefore somewhat short-lived or ephimeral. It appears and within weeks it seems to fade away, eclipsed by the next in line. The nex king of "k-..."

- There is no intention of promoting a structured solo career, because 1) BTS have said (a million times) that they will be back in 2025, and 2) if we are to take them at their word, the boys will all be joining the military before the end of 2023.

- So, there is no long-term vision to support "some" and not "others".

- The support is focused on a specific work. The only exception to a more continuous commitment has been Suga and his tour.

- Everyone has their budget, their schedule, their activities for the year...

- And yes, there can be different intensities of promotional activities, depending on the defined strategy or budget or goal or whatever (we don't know the whole story because the company doesn't explain anything to us). There is a rumour that some have even put their money into some activities. But I don't know how true that is.

- And I think they all have a say in the design of their promotions, even if they don't design them themselves.

So then....I can't take the agency away from any of them.

They are the best advocates or defenders within the company. And if one of them had less influence, which I doubt, the others would not remain silent without solving the problem. Or how do we think a commitment from the 7 of them to the 7 of them is achieved to keep BTS as a unified group? There are no weak links in this group. And if there were, I wouldn't bet my money that Jimin is one of them.

Once again, there are things that I can't explain and I'd like to know what's going on (the lack of restocking, the split of Spotify streaming, the deletion of sales...). But if there really have been damaging mistakes or strategies for any of them, I hope that when the next contract comes up for renewal, they will sort it out very thoroughly. Cause this cant happen anymore.

To tell you the truth, I blame the company for many things, and one of them - as serious as their lack of planning - is their lack of communication with the fans. BeautifulPeach has talked about this in some of her posts.

At some point in its growth, Hybe became too big to fail, or whatever, and forgot about certain corporate social responsibility obligations. One of them is to talk to its most important stakeholders: the customers, i.e. the fans. And addressing some of their concerns.

Investors are important in listed companies, but customers are important too. Always.

And if they don't see it that way and continue to despise the fans (clients) in that way, then at the end “future is not gonna be ok”.

And yes, I know that K-pop is controversial. It's clear that they can't deal with every rumour, every silly trend that comes out every day on twitter, ships, solos demands, etc. But there are things that they can deal with. And some of the Jimin's events when Face happened are one of them.

A bit of transparency would be appreciated. I expect it, actually, at some point (maybe when this chapter ends).

Maybe there will be things that could be explained as commercial strategy (do they want us to buy Face instead of the single LC, for example? And that's why they're not stocking it again?). But they might also be telling us about certain difficulties. Or about certain forecasting mistakes. Or how they learned from some of them. I'm pretty sure they learned a lot from Jimin's Face era.

I don't think I will be able to judge everything that has happened until at least the end of this year, when all the solo works have been completed/released.

And I'll have to keep listening to Bongo to see if he still talks about how they are more interested in being a company that has groups rather than individual singers. Maybe that is why it seems there's a ceiling to individual success. There is nothing better than capping success with time limitation of activities ("Let's see if that makes the fans forget what solo members are capable of")

And even then, there will be differences between all of them. Quite a lot.

But we will also have to consider that they are different artists with different goals, sensibilities, objectives and situations (let's not forget that JK himself, who now seems quite greedy, has admitted that he needed and enjoyed his free time and Seven had to come along to give him a boost). So we should be careful with the comparison too.

Perhaps Jin will end up getting the most promotions when he comes out, considering how little time he has had. Poor Jin…😔 He had to wait until the end of the year to enlist, despite the bad weather, to give us the Busan concert. It was a commitment to BTS, but it was a short of individual sacrifice too… you know..they do these things for BTS.

I would also like to listen to them (yes, it's a bit ambitious on my part, but I would like to listen to Jimin and his feelings, at the end of this year... will he open up to us?)

In conclusion, I would say that if we are BTS fans and want to remain so, and if we believe in the boys' words .... I would advise us to enjoy every moment they give us for their limited time. Every campaign, every song, every vlive... and try to find an atmosphere of caution given the situation we are in.

And by that I mean that we should also be able to read that we are in the age of solos and akages. All the information about grievances or leaks that comes out usuarlly comes from the same places.

And I'm not saying it's FALSE! Nor do I mean to belittle it! Just that sometimes we should take into account the intentions behind. And before we react, let's consider the source and the context. Look at what happened to the RNX journalist we all spent almost a day reporting on for a bad translation. Or look at how, in less than two weeks, two CCTV vids of Jimin shopping with a friend (one of them clearly with Saeon) suddenly appeared just as it became known that he was going to NY with JK.

Anyway, I will be a bit cautious for now. There are still a few months until the end of the year. A lot can still happen.

Jimin could came back again to us with sth as amazing as Like Crazy. Or even better, an album.

I miss Jimin and want to see him shine again and talking to us.

And I miss jikook……arrrggg

[spacerockwriting]

I have not been up late in what feels like forever, lol. This year was a wild ride. I, in all to honest goodness, can't even believe it's over. Last year I told my therapist my resolution was "Fuck it" and I still stand by it this year.

From finishing my first ever Shameless Big Bang, to writing another wonderful piece that led to making wonderful friends, I can't wait to continue it again this year.

In July I got to see Green Day for a sixth time, this time, the VIP actually pulling through. The last tour I saw them on was from Father of All... and it was such a mess, since the tour was the remains of what they could scrape by with due to COVID. Fall Out Boy had to cancel, which wasn't terrible but, still, a band I had wanted to see. SAVIORS was easily one of the best shows I've ever seen. Both DOOKIE and AMERICAN IDIOT back to back, all songs? COMING CLEAN is my favorite Green Day song of all time, and it's always played at every show I am not in attendance for. Finally hearing it live just...chefs kiss. Seeing Tre Sing All By Myself was also a dream thing to see, along with HOMECOMING which is a song that both Mike and Tre sing on. Not to mention, it was the opening of the US tour, which was great. Aside from a brief tornado evacuation during the concert, it was fantastic. I got even more excited when I found out my bestie went to his show, too, since American Idiot was the album that sort of bonded us together back when we were wee 8th graders.

October was the real kicker. My first vacation since pre-covid. The Outsiders Musical was fantastic. I had kind of lost fandom interest in it for a long while, and it just pushed my right back into interest with these characters I loved. Plus, I was the one that received the special book that is passed out during the finale. Being front row center for a musical was a bucket list item, and I was so glad it was that musical.

But of course, the real highlight of October was going to NYCC, a place I didn't think I'd ever go to. It's the comic con for the big boys, and I even surprised myself and hardly bought any merch, except for Eric Stuart (Brock from Pokemon) and of course spending most of my money meeting Cam and Noel.

THAT was the highlight my friends. Well, one. They were so so incredibly nice and sweet, not at all "fake" phony celebrities. Noel conversed with everyone who entered his line and wanted to talk to everyone, and Cam was just so so sweet. Both even signed the art that @deathclassic made and adored it, with Noel loving emo Mickey and knowing more about fanfiction, and Cam just a very confused guy about the fact its an AU. Kinda hope they dont find the fic. Both were such the sweetest boys, and were they worth the whole headache of NYCC??? easily yes. They knew my name by the end.

Two of my personal heros on the trip were @mybrainismelted and @runawaybrainsc, spending as much time with me as possible during the trip, and to all others who popped in throughout my thursday of hell where I got scammed by a bunch of dudes. Which, somehow, is kinda odd since I've known how to avoid NYC scams before. And then of course running into other gallavich friends along the way. Everyone was so sweet and kind, especially almost everyone that was in line for Noel. Everyone is so sweet. And ending the day eating pizza and gallavich chatting was perfect, and I cant wait to do it again. I love my con moms.

But of course, the best was the last day. Spending the day with @deathclassic. Seeing one of my very good friends IRL was such a wonderful experience and having fun at the biggest mall on the east coast was such a great experience. You haven't lived until you IRL snail race.

But of course, NYC brought the worst issues, which means early 2025 is gonna be full of surgery. Fantastic. Now lets just hope this flu goes away...

Really hope I get to do some gallavich adventures again this year..

[xo8ball]

long vent post about sad things! read with caution ♥️

theres something very melancholic about almost being a lost case as a kid, almost becoming a young ghost, and getting to live some more years and realizing, shit, it wont even end here.

its torturous to think i used to believe i'd never get to 16, and being 16 today and in four months i'll be 17 and in 2025 i'll be 18 and then 19 and then 20 and so on forth. its sad, i almost stopped breathing when my lungs just were born.

talking about a very supposed depression i had (that i strongly believe i had, since symptoms and so) and all its factors, my mother confessed to me she cried out of desperation for me, she didnt know what to do. i said the same, i said the same.

its really hard to tell your mom you almost died at 10 by your own hands. its killing me inside, everytime i tell her that i almost didn't get to cook my first meal or get into high school.

and im tearing up while doing this, while writing this heart-wrenching (to me) symphony of words on this app. why do i even reveal such deep experiences online, maybe its because this was my first escape from reality and i didnt die because i had too many stories to write.

my relationship with crying is weird too, i hate crying, and i love when i finally do. i used to cry every night to the thought that i wasnt loved, i wasnt fat enough, i wasnt eating well, i wasnt pretty enough, i wasnt talented enough, that i wasnt myself and would never become myself ever, that i would die before becoming whoever else than what i was. teenage years came and i started hating crying, because it made me weak, a faggot, a failed man, boys never cry. they dont cry. being called maricón over intensely cries due to fear by your only masculine figure in your house makes you a beast, a monster. i hated tears since then, i hated crying, so i bottled everything. its a behavior i still cant quit, but im now being more honest. i still hate crying, but i love releasing, crying over nothing, being genuine to my feelings and my wet and dumb tearducts. though i hate being seen, makes me too vulnerable, i hate talking with a sad knot in the throat, i cant formulate thoughts. so i still bottle until im comfortably alone. or just vent about it, like i did when i was 10.

all my problems now seem insignificant, because i survived being 10, mentally ill, undiagnosed, weird, lonely, suicidal, groomed, sexually assaulted, left behind, hated, and got to the age i never thought i'd get to. all my problems now seem small, because i survived a nightmarish age.

god, the amount of times i thought "what would everyone do when they find me dead?" compared to my now thinking of "what will everyone do while i'm alive? what can i do while i'm still here?"

because i want to do and be everything, everywhere, everytime.

[chuckbeckii]

‘what’

What was it… i cant remember now.

Are waves the revolution?

Let the cobwebs grow.

Let all things decay exponentially.

Until…

My dad or my dog dropped the Dad’s hat crumpled on the floor by his door.

Fastforward to 2025 and its the first year of the United States of 300,000 corpses

The ulti-ate human hubris 

Its already the land of 4 trillion dead bodies recylced and smashed together for ages, pools of water merged with one another, droplets or waves on a spinning wheel for eternity, for all we know.

Theres no certainty that death is the end as much as we would like to believe it so.

i just want to know if central intelligence created the interweb, thats all!

whats the frame of reference for ... anything in the age of everything?

 And what was it again?

Was it my grandma and my aunt emma hugging? 

They love each other… was it the extra money?

The extra money that made it fine to grind dads weed up with mine hahahahahhahahahahahahah call it lemon skittles bitch. 

The day i realized i had confidence…

Did he know this would happen?

metaphysically.

Maybe he did and i realized i thought i had multiplied the buds,

Like the dog leash my pup sneakily tied in a knot, the cookie i crunched as hard as a rock

Its a Padres War Day fishermans hat, i spit across the ash corner 

Throw it on to remember the sand people * who died for our country

“Imperialist nazis"

I look closer at the cap its a military promo from 04 or 05 

Some of the darkest years earth ever saw

Did we even learn anything from vietnam?

Sure… we learned war is a profit and poor people will die for it, but that was eons ago so try to keep up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is no joke

This is all journalistic

Picked up my aunt emma from the airport today

Simple mistake made from thinking about maryjane, took the wrong highway

Saw a kid talking to another in a Black Panther shirt 

My cynic self was wrong … they were both just strangers 

Paranoid ol' woman in pink looking at me all weird 

Maybe shes a spy from floyds family...

You know some operatives get old.

some may live on for eternity.

as for me ill be around as long as the last who remembers me

didnt know i was writing a revolutionary poem in the airport line

Let’s hear it one more time for words that tear and strain to rhyme

~chuckbeckii (2023)

[get-your-fics]

ITS LATE EVERYONE BUT I CANT WAIT TO GUSH ABOUT THIS FIC I GOTTA DO IT NOW

sorry for being late to the party, but i can't believe you've blessed us with another ed nashton masterpiece!! and this time it's dark?? i literally could not contain my excitement when i saw you posted this.

The longer it went on, the more you caught yourself glancing at the defendant across the hall, wondering if he could know that you hadn’t been sleeping since the first time you saw him, simultaneously longing and dreading that he might look back at you.

this is part of what made this fic so interesting to me! it seems like reader has some sort of attraction to him, whether that's out of morbid curiosity or because she finds him intriguing/fascinating.

Well, here you were, in 2025 with Edward Nashton sitting on you in your bed, so that didn’t go exactly as planned. But the truth was, you’d seen him so many times since then, in your dreams.

like this line! was she dreaming about him because she regretted not getting him on account of that one important charge? or was it because there's something else drawing her to him?

“I’ve been planning this for so long.” You knew exactly how long, actually. Since the moment he looked at you in that courtroom over three years ago, when the judge found him not guilty of terrorism charges. He knew then that he had a chance to get to you, and do whatever he was about to do now.

this is so in line with ed and his character. i mean, think about how long it probably took him to plan the events of the movie and how calculated all of it was? i bet he spent all three years in arkham just planning to the very last little detail how to get back at reader. she never stood a chance smh

“Did you think that just because you’re in your bed, that we’re in your apartment?"

i literally gasped when i read this line. such a good twist!

“I have a riddle for you,” he replied suddenly. “What’s in the middle of nowhere?”

You sniffled, fighting back your tears. “This place,” you assumed.

“Well, yes,” he shrugged, “but the answer was actually ‘H’. Get it?”

this gets points for being funny and clever. you never fail to make me laugh when reading one of your fics (i would've laughed if i was in this situation too and he said that tbh)

“God, you’re all the fucking same. You act like whores and call it empowerment, but when you get treated like a whore it’s all crocodile tears and screams of 'oppression’. You think this is oppression? Being a pretty, rich little trust fund girl? Bullshit. This is just the consequences of your actions!”

there he is, my little incel reddit twitch streamer! no but honestly the dirty talk throughout this entire fic was just exquisite.

“God, you’re tight,” he hissed. “I used to fuck my fist in my awful little cell and think about doing this to you, it feels better than I imagined…”

like this, oof, the feelings this image gave me...

He was smart enough to figure out that you just wanted whoever was watching this livestream to be sure this was Edward Nashton— not a copycat with a costume. You would’ve been the first to hear about a breakout at Arkham, so they must not have even known he was out yet by the time you were taken… you wanted them to be sure. You couldn’t stop him now, but you could build your case.

reader is still trying to play prosecutor, even in a situation where she's out of control. and even though ed knew what she was doing, i could just tell he'd fall for it. he wouldn't want people thinking anyone else could be capable of what he pulled off. he's too much of a megalomaniac lol.

“Where should I come?” he breathed.

“Pull out,” you instructed.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” he sneered, and you saw him looking over at the phone he’d set down beside you.

pleaseeee that's so funny, i'm just imagining one of his mods setting up a poll with different options of where he should come.

The person you were looking at was a convergence of both. He didn’t need the mask anymore— and you didn’t just mean the leather one discarded on the floor.

this line gave me chills. it literally took my breath away. i feel like this is an interesting evolution for ed where he doesn't need to hide behind the mask anymore.

“I’m still hard,” he noticed. “And you still have a hole I haven’t used.”

oh god, the dread i felt reading that...

i'm sure you get sick of hearing this, but another fantastic work!! you keep upping the ante every time, and i'll always come back for more ;)

𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 || dark!riddler (2022) x reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || revenge for himself isn't enough, he needs all his followers— and whoever else finds his special one-night-only, post-prison-break livestream— to see you pay for what you did to him.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || bit over 6k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || noncon smut, bondage, exhibitionism, knife play, kidnapping/abduction, choking, spitting, unwanted creampie/slight breeding kink, misogyny/incel mindset, degradation, implied anal, the batman (2022) spoilers

𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙝𝙞𝙘 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩, 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙/𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙧 𝙪𝙥𝙨𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜

“I think she’s waking up, finally…” 

The voice was distant, deep and unfamiliar, like you were hearing it echo from inside a cave.  Even before you could understand anything that was happening, you felt as if something was horribly wrong.  You fought to open your eyes but could only blink for a second before they shut again, you were so sleepy…

“Come on,” the voice encouraged, closer to you now— you felt a weight on your back, and the voice was right behind you.  “Wakey wakey, everyone’s waiting…”

A few light smacks to your cheek pulled you mostly into consciousness, and you managed to open your eyes.  It was dark, so you still couldn’t see too much, until a bright rectangle of white light lit up suddenly and nearly blinded you; you squinted your eyes shut and tried to move your head away, but when you reached to cover your eyes with your hand, you felt resistance on your wrist.  You tugged again, harder, and whined when it caused your restraint to tighten painfully.  Just barely managing to get a peak while your arm blocked the overpowering light, you saw that your hand was tied with a torn strip of your bedsheet— you moved your other arm, you wiggled your legs, and realized they were bound as well.  And as you cried out instinctively with fear, you noticed that your mouth was gagged with another strip of fabric.

You were gagged and bound, face-down, to your own bed— by your own sheets— to the posts at each corner.  And as you started to panic, fighting against the ties even though it only seemed to make it worse, you heard a low laugh from behind you.

“Aw, so scared,” it cooed deeply, making you shudder.  You tried to turn your head back but you couldn’t twist your neck far enough— instead, all you could see was the gloved hand that reached in front of your face, brushing your hair out of the way.  There was that blinding light again, leaving an purple, splotchy impression on the inside of your eyelids, like a bruise.  “We're live— say hello to all my followers, Madam Prosecutor…”

The gloved hand pointed at the light, and then waved— and you just barely saw the blinking red light, next to the white rectangle which was already morphing into the camera flashes from your memories.

“Madam Prosecutor, your statement on the Riddler trial!” a reporter demanded as he shoved a microphone in your face.  “Is the State still hoping for the death penalty?”

Another fought his way past your security to throw another question at you: “The Riddler’s lawyers say he’s mentally unfit to stand trial, what do you have to say?”

“Do you have a message for Riddler sympathizers in Gotham today?”

“Did you know Commissioner Savage?  Is the Riddler case personal for you?”

“Is there a chance the Riddler is going to walk free?”

You turned suddenly, facing the barrage of cameras, microphones, people with notepads and voice recorders.  With a hand on your security detail’s shoulder, you moved him aside so you could address the media— hopefully for the last time.  

“Edward Nashton is a violent criminal, perfectly aware of what he’s done and why he did it,” you stated firmly.  “He is unstable and psychotic, but capable of understanding right from wrong— and capable of committing unimaginable wrongs which he has already demonstrated in his acts of terror against Gotham and its people.  Today, the State is fighting for this man to face life in prison without the possibility of parole, and we believe our case is unbeatable because our evidence is undeniable: every person in this city witnessed and suffered through what this individual unleashed on thousands of innocent civilians.  Anything but a full conviction on all charges would be a massive miscarriage of justice and an offense to every victim of his hateful rampage.  I will give no further comment until the full trial has concluded, thank you.”

They shouted at your back but you ignored them as you continued up the steps and entered the courthouse.  You tried not to react to the commotion inside, but it was impossible not to notice that security was no less than quadrupled compared to a normal case: cops everywhere, some with dogs, most with assault rifles strapped over their chests.  After every door was a walk-through metal detector, and you saw some of your most respected colleagues getting pat-downs while their entire silhouette was traced with metal detection wands and their palms were swabbed for residue.  

“Sorry, ma’am,” an officer got your attention as he pointed to your purse, “no bags allowed inside.”

“No bags, at all?” you frowned.  “I’m the prosecutor, I’m here with the State—”

“No one can bring anything in,” he insisted, “you can leave it all in your car or I can throw it out for you.”

You sighed as you tried to imagine going back out there and braving the crowds of reporters, fighting your way through the protesters and cops in riot gear, hearing slurs and jeers shouted at you from citizens in replica masks…

“Throw it out,” you decided, handing over the bag to the officer who walked away and tossed it into a massive trash bin.  That handbag itself was worth a couple hundred dollars, not to even mention the contents inside, but it was still a lesser sacrifice in the end.

A three-and-a-half-week trial somehow went by in a blur.  You didn’t remember the details anymore, just the parts you had to experience every day: that quiet, meek figure in the jumpsuit and chains, the muffled sound of protests just outside, the tearful testimonies, the clinical descriptions and high definition photographs of the violent murders of men you knew.  

Every day you went through the crowds and through the security checkpoints, you sat behind your table and ignored the way your hands would shake as you organized your papers, you stood when they said ‘All rise!’ and you spoke when they asked you to.  The longer it went on, the more you caught yourself glancing at the defendant across the hall, wondering if he could know that you hadn’t been sleeping since the first time you saw him, simultaneously longing and dreading that he might look back at you.

You remembered judgment day.  There was a post online that someone sent you, a screenshot of an anonymous user of the same forum website Nashton had used during his killing spree— they themselves were facing a class-action lawsuit, you heard, and they were winning.  “The news said today is the day of final judgment in the Riddler case,” the post read, “but the day of final judgment already came when he nearly drowned Gotham and exposed our corrupt city officials! #JusticeforRiddler #Riddlerdidnothingwrong”

Those words stuck with you, just as much as the words that concluded the worst month of your life.

“All rise for the Honorable Arthur Hawley!”

The judge entered the court for the last time, and everyone sat when he did.  You saw the exhaustion in his eyes, too, as he lifted a paper to read his concluding statements.  “Having heard the arguments of the defense and prosecution,” he began, “I have reached a final verdict in the trial of Edward Nashton.  Before the verdicts are read I will remind everyone present that any outburst, interruption, or otherwise distracting and disruptive behavior will lead to immediate removal from the courtroom.  All thirty-four charges have been declared as follows:

For the murder of Donald Mitchell, Junior, the Court finds the defendant guilty.

For the murder of Peter Savage, the Court finds the defendant guilty.

For the murder of Gil Coulson, the Court finds the defendant guilty.

For the murder of Carmine Falcone, the Court finds the defendant guilty.

On the count of domestic acts of terrorism, the Court finds the defendant not guilty.”

Your throat caught but you tried your best not to react.  For the first time in this entire, hellish trial— for the first time in his life— Edward Nashton looked at you.  You felt his stare from behind the unassuming glasses, but you didn’t look back.  He must have known that without that conviction, he could be sent to Arkham rather than federal, maximum-security prison like you’d been hoping.  Arkham wasn’t an easy way out, it was still a ruthless place that probably needed a federal investigation of its own, but he was going to stay in Gotham— he was going to continue to feed off of the very people he attacked.  It made you sick.

Judge Hawley read the remaining twenty-nine charges: conspiracy to commit murder, obviously; kidnapping, false imprisonment, and some explosive materials charges for what he did to Gil; destruction of state property for blowing up the seawall; several counts of battery and assault with a deadly weapon as is typical for anyone being charged with murders; and a bunch of auxiliary charges for falsifying some forms, having a fake ID, stealing vans for his bombs, and technically committing fraud here and there as one tends to do while orchestrating a masterplan to destroy an entire city.

For all but two, he was found guilty.  They were irrelevant now, though: he was going to get forty-five to life in Arkham, and you were going to fight like hell to keep him from ever having a chance at parole.  He’d keep appealing, you’d keep showing up, and this was never really going to end.  A gavel bang, the bustle of everyone mumbling to each other, and just like that it was over— for everyone else.

Two guards held Edward at either side, though he cooperated as they guided him back to where he would be returned to jail until sentencing brought him out again; in fact, he’d been cooperative throughout all of this.  Somehow, that made you hate him more.  It made you feel like this is something he expected, even wanted.

They walked him along, and just before they got him through the door, he turned and looked right at you.  You were looking back this time.

Your eyes met.  You tilted your head back slightly, inhaling deeply; he smiled at you.  The door shut, and he was gone.

“You remember me now, don’t you?” Edward hummed.

You moaned through the gag, hoping he’d remove it so you could respond.  

“I’ll take this gag out if you promise you’re going to be good,” he offered, and you nodded fervently.  Gloved fingers slipped between the torn fabric and your cheek, pulling the strip out of your mouth— it hung around your neck loosely, and you gasped from the slight relief.

“I never forgot you,” you whispered to him.

You hadn’t seen him, physically, for two years— his final sentencing appeal, where you once again managed to keep him in Arkham until at least 2087.  Well, here you were, in 2025 with Edward Nashton sitting on you in your bed, so that didn’t go exactly as planned.

But the truth was, you'd seen him so many times since then, in your dreams.  Truthfully, you'd been out of your depth prosecuting him.  A young and relatively inexperienced prosecutor being assigned such a massive trial was all but unheard of, but no other Gotham prosecutor could do it— they were all under their own investigations for accepting bribes from Carmine Falcone.  The judge offered to bring in a federal prosecutor, but in spite of your best judgment, you wanted someone who was there to witness his crimes to bring him to justice.  You took your jobs because you wanted to stand up for the people of Gotham, and that's what you were going to do.

But you'd only convicted a few murderers before, and they were all low-level thugs or abusive husbands.  Easy, quick trials with juries itching to convict.  This was the trial of the century and you were the last line of defense between a terrorist and freedom.  Maybe if it weren't for your pride, you would've let a federal prosecutor take the case and he would've been convicted of terrorism and he wouldn't have stayed in Gotham— let alone in the criminally insane facility most notorious for its breakout problem.  

Memories of the trial didn't come back alone: you remembered now how this happened, walking back from your office only to be pulled into the shadows by someone you never got a look at before the needle in your neck dosed you with something that kept you out cold until now.  It was hard to say how long it had been, but you were still in your button down blouse and pencil skirt… even your heels were still on, which felt wrong while you were laying in bed.

Of course, that was far from the only thing that felt wrong.  It was just the easiest one to think about, because everything else was far too terrifying to process.

"I never forgot you, either," Edward replied coldly.  "I've been planning this for so long."

You knew exactly how long, actually.  Since the moment he looked at you in that courtroom over three years ago, when the judge found him not guilty of terrorism charges.  He knew then that he had a chance to get to you, and do whatever he was about to do now.

You felt the point of a knife trail down your back through your shirt, and you had a pretty good idea of what it was that he was about to do.

"Your defense wanted to convince the world that you were stupid, or crazy," you defended yourself, hoping to bargain with him, "they wanted you not guilty by reason of insanity.  You're not crazy— you're definitely not stupid.  I respected you enough to see that."

"Respect?" he repeated.  "People like you never respect people like me.  We're lucky if you pity us.  And I think it's time we got what we're owed."

You didn't quite understand what that was supposed to mean, so you moved to a more practical approach.  "They'll put you in federal this time," you warned him.

"Only if they can find me," he giggled proudly.

"You're streaming yourself live," you noticed, "from inside the apartment of a state prosecutor!  SWAT is gonna be here in minutes!"

He laughed again, deeper this time, and leaned down to whisper in your ear.  "Did you think that just because you're in your bed, that we're in your apartment?"

You couldn't move your head around enough to see anything, it was just endless darkness past the bedposts, but when you realized that you didn't know where you were, you felt sick when you came to the obvious conclusion that no one else knew where you were either.

"Yes, I imagine SWAT is already at your door now," he continued.  "They're looking for you, they're clearing the halls, but they don't know I had a moving company take your bed while you were at work, and they brought it here.  I had to lead them there so they'd find the message I left, but they're not going to find you.  Because you're here."

"Where am I?" you asked hoarsely.

"I have a riddle for you," he replied suddenly.  "What's in the middle of nowhere?"

You sniffled, fighting back your tears.  "This place," you assumed.

"Well, yes," he shrugged, "but the answer was actually 'H'.  Get it?"

"You're just making this worse for yourself," you insisted, "breaking out is bad enough, but killing a state prosecutor will get you—"

"Kill you?" he interrupted.  "No, no no no, that would be such a waste…"

You wrinkled your brows together, feeling the knife moved lower, over the curve of your ass and down to your thigh, where it started to gently curl up the bottom of your skirt.

"You're the only clean prosecutor left in Gotham," he explained, "you don't need to die.  You just need to learn your lesson."

You felt the zipper at your waist start to open, and you tensed up.  "N-no, wait," you pleaded instinctively.

"Shh, you're just making this worse for yourself," he turned your words back around onto you.  "You put me away in that terrible place, you knew how bad it was there and you told them forty years wasn't enough.  This won't be nearly as bad for you as that was for me, but hopefully it'll give you an idea."

With your skirt unzipped, he was able to shimmy it down your thighs and reveal the garters holding your stockings up, and more embarrassingly the lace panties they were attached to.  Your face heated up as he laughed softly.

"Were you on your way to meet someone tonight?  Or are you just trying to spoil me?" he purred, hooking a gloved finger around the garter just to snap it against your skin and make you jump.  "What a little slut you are…"

"I-I'm not," you insisted.

"Don't deny it," he ordered, "you can't hide anything from me now."

He held your shirt taut and slowly dragged the knife through the fabric, slashing it open down the back while you tried to stay perfectly still so he wouldn't nick you.

A deep hum echoed behind you as the scraps of your shirt were pushed to either side, and quickly the knife cut through the back of your bra as well.  He ran his gloves fingers down your back until you shivered, before slicing your sleeves and bra straps open too so he could simply pull the ruined clothes out from under you.

"Oh, the comments aren't happy," he announced suddenly.  "They wanna see your tits, I guess.  Hm.  That might be tricky."

"What?" you mumbled in confusion.

"I've got the comments section on my phone, see?" he explained as he held his phone in front of your face.  The first thing you saw was a monitor feed of what the camera was steaming now, and you were disturbed to see yourself tied up and pinned down by the masked figure.  Just below that was an eye symbol with the number 1,447 next to it.  Are that many people really watching this?

And then you saw the live comments feed, though you wished you hadn't.

Show us her tits!!!!!

he should carve a question mark on her lol

YES!! FUCK THAT BITCH! 

You can tell she wants it lmao whores like that always do

“They’ve been waiting for this for a while, too,” he said, the grin apparent in his voice.  “They know when you hurt one of us, you hurt all of us— and they know that when I put you in your place, they all get a little of that power, too.”

“You’re crazy,” you breathed.

“There it is,” he chuckled, “come on, tell us how you really feel.  No more lies.”

“You’re fucking crazy!” you shouted, starting to choke on a sob.  “Get the fuck off of me!”

“Sorry everyone,” he addressed the camera, setting his phone aside, “you’ll have to wait to get a better view.  Right now, I’m just gonna give her what she needs.”

You heard him unzipping his pants, and you started to squirm more desperately.  “Fuck you,” you spat, “get off me— you fucking freak!”

He only laughed, and you felt one hand on your back… the other must have been holding his cock, guiding it to press against your entrance.  You gasped as you felt it, fighting to close your legs but uselessly struggling against the ties on your ankles.  Your rage shifted to fear again, and with nothing else left to do, you pleaded for mercy.

"Please don't," you begged, "please, please—"

"Shut up!" he yelled, pulling the gag around your neck back up into your mouth and tying it tighter. "God, you're all the fucking same.  You act like whores and call it empowerment, but when you get treated like a whore it's all crocodile tears and screams of 'oppression'.  You think this is oppression?  Being a pretty, rich little trust fund girl?  Bullshit.  This is just the consequences of your actions!"

With a shove of his hips forward, he speared you on his cock.  You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of reacting, but it only took a few sudden and ruthless thrusts to make you choke out your anguished, wavering moan.  Your toes curled and your hands tightened into fists at the pain; the sound of his heavy breathing made you shiver, and made your stomach sick.

"God, you're tight," he hissed.  "I used to fuck my fist in my awful little cell and think about doing this to you, it feels better than I imagined…"

He grunted loudly every time he met the end of you, only egged on by your sobs.  He was wasting no time at all tearing you apart; you just hoped that his lack of restraint and rushed pace meant that this wouldn't last too much longer.  Already his moans were getting louder and his gloved hands were grabbing your arms tightly.

There wasn’t anything else to do but cry now, burying your face in the pillow and hoping it would all be over soon.  Of course, he couldn’t let you hide that easily, not when he had an enraptured audience encouraging him and demanding to see you broken and defeated.  Edward grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, turning you to look into the light.  Lip quivering and tears streaming down your face, you blinked quickly as you stared forward and tried not to imagine how many people were watching you be degraded like this.  

“What are you crying for?” he wondered.  “I bet you get fucked like this all the time.  This is how you like it, right?  Getting fucked from behind, face down, like a whore?  Getting used?”

There was no use denying it, he would never believe you— there was no use responding at all, even if all you could do was shake your head with this gag in your mouth.  

“You probably let guys do this to you all the time,” he grunted, one hand tugging on your hair harder while the other held your hips still.  “You’re just crying because you never thought a guy like me would fuck a girl like you.  Right?  You think you’re too good for me?  Because I’m a freak?”

Shutting your eyes, you heard the sounds of his heavy clothes rubbing against your skin, the bed rocking beneath you and hitting the wall— you even heard your own moans, and could hardly believe they were coming from your mouth.  They didn’t sound as pained as you thought they would… you were trying so hard not to think about how he felt inside you, but it was becoming difficult to ignore.

“Admit you wanted this,” he groaned, pulling the gag out of your mouth again so you could obey him.  “Say it.”

He smacked you hard on the ass, but when that wasn’t enough, he slapped your face instead.  “I wanted this,” you gasped, “I wanted you to do this, Edward.”

“You still call me that,” he chuckled, “always so proper.  You know that’s not who I really am… you wanted to be fucked by the Riddler— didn’t you, Madam Prosecutor?”

Before you could answer, he pulled out suddenly— you weren’t sure what to think, though you were never so delusional to think this was the end of his plans for you.  The knife from before suddenly sawed through the restraints keeping your hands tied, and then your feet next.  You would’ve considered trying to fight, but knowing he had a knife and still coping with the remaining sting of pain inside you, you simply rubbed your aching wrists and tried to curl up in the bed; that wasn’t what he wanted for you, though, and he growled as he roughly flipped you onto your back and pinned you down.

You got your first good look at him, but you turned your face away as that eerie mask hovered above your face.  “Look at me,” he demanded.  “Look!”

The knife pressed to your cheek and turned your head towards him again; tears ran down your temples, and you blinked up at him as the blade moved down to your neck.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered, and you shook your head, whining when he pushed the knife harder against your skin— not enough to cut you, still, but enough to make you terrified to even breathe or swallow.  “There’s no fucking point in fighting it now.  Or are you just trying to act like you don’t like it?  They can all see you—” he reminded you as he pointed with the knife to the camera, “they all heard you moaning like a whore for me.  Spread your goddamn legs, bitch.”

Shamefully, you let your thighs part for him— he could’ve easily overpowered you and forced them to open, but you knew he wanted to make you an active participant.  Helplessness would leave you with plausible deniability.  Forced cooperation would make everyone watching wonder if you really did want this… even you were already questioning that.

He held himself up above you with one hand, setting the knife aside to guide his cock to your hole again.  “If only they could all feel how wet you are,” he purred, sliding inside with a groan as you winced.  Somehow, it still hurt almost as much as the first time he was inside you.  “Shit, I can feel you clenching on me, too— oh fuck, you really like this,” he noticed, and though you couldn’t see it past the mask, you could hear him smile.  “I bet you’re gonna come, fuck, is this all you needed?  You just wanted to see this face again?”

“I’d rather see your real face,” you whispered.  For once, that seemed to surprise him.  He was smart enough to figure out that you just wanted whoever was watching this livestream to be sure this was Edward Nashton— not a copycat with a costume.  You would’ve been the first to hear about a breakout at Arkham, so they must not have even known he was out yet by the time you were taken… you wanted them to be sure.  You couldn’t stop him now, but you could build your case.

“This is my real face,” he replied.

“Please,” you breathed, and when he reached up to take his glasses off, you were surprised he was relenting to you.  Was it the first hint of mercy?  Or just humoring you since you had no control anyways?

Setting his glasses aside, he pulled the mask off of his head and there he was, almost exactly how you remembered him from years ago— maybe a little slimmer, like he might’ve lost some weight in Arkham from improper nutrition, but otherwise the same.  Same soft face with dark, empty eyes, same hair with just a bit more overgrown shagginess to it, same blank smile as he examined you.  “Is that better?” he asked, not quite genuine but not as taunting as you expected.

Of course, there was a price to pay.  Only a second later, he grabbed your jaw and wrenched your mouth again, spitting onto your tongue— you tried to cry out but he covered your mouth, forcing you to swallow it even as you struggled under him again.

“Dumb fucking slut,” he laughed.  “Come on, don’t act like this isn’t exactly what you wanted.  You’re so goddamn disgusting.”

As he started fucking you faster, you nearly screamed from behind his hand.  He was going deeper inside you from this angle, so deep you saw stars each time his hips slammed against you.  

He used his teeth to take off the glove on his free hand, bringing it down to grope your chest skin-to-skin.  A moan fell from his lips as he felt you up, and you hated the whine you heard yourself make when he pinched your nipples.  More muffled cries of pain came out when he smacked your tits around— were there going to be bruises on them tomorrow?  You couldn’t even think about tomorrow, you just needed to survive the next five minutes… you just needed to stop the feeling building up inside you, but you weren’t sure that you could.

When your eyes fluttered open, they were rolling back— and your walls were started to pulse, even though you’d been trying to keep it down.

"I wish you all could feel this," he breathlessly informed his audience, "she's squeezing me, I can feel her cunt squeezing me.  She's about to come."

You fought harder, reaching up to push his shoulders back, but even weakened after years in confinement he was stronger than you; you whimpered helplessly.

“You’re about to come for me, huh?” he directed his attention to you this time.  “Just feels too good, you can’t help yourself?  This is how it feels to be fucked by someone who knows how filthy you really are, Madam Prosecutor.  Someone who knows that it doesn’t matter that you’re rich, or educated, or ‘important.’  Someone who knows this is all you’re good for.”

He took his hand off of your mouth just in time for you to let out the most pathetic noise of your life— a loud, desperate sob of pleasure, giving away the power of the wave of ecstasy crashing over you.  It wasn’t right at all that you were coming from this, that it was this man inside you and on top of you making your body give in to him.  You hadn’t come this hard in years, maybe ever… all this resistance just seemed to make it stronger, and now you had no recourse at all, you couldn’t stop yourself from gasping out his name or your back from arching and your hands from tightening into fists.

“Fuck,” he breathed, smiling— he even started to laugh breathlessly, “fuck, I can feel it— feels so good, oh my god…”

Just when the sensitivity became too much and you needed a break, he began thrusting even faster and harder.  “S-stop,” you whined, “Ed—”

“Just shut up,” he rolled his eyes, wrapping his hand around your neck until you fell into forced silence.  The aftershocks of your orgasm, and the overstimulation of his continued assault, were both heightened by the lack of air— it made your head all dizzy and your vision start to go blank as your channel flexed uncontrollably around him.  You were tightening up so hard that it hurt even more to have him inside you, and as your shut your eyes to give in to the darkness, he let go and you choked out a sound that was like all your moans had stored up in your throat and were spilling out all at once.

“No, I can’t,” you stammered out, but it was basically unintelligible at this point— even if he could understand you, he didn’t care.

"Where should I come?" he breathed.

"Pull out," you instructed.

"I wasn't talking to you," he sneered, and you saw him looking over at the phone he’d set down beside you.  “Oh, they were pretty evenly-split before, but now they all want me to come inside—”

“No,” you choked, “please—”

“I think you do, too,” he posited, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

“I’m not— I’m not on anything,” you warned, “please don’t—”

“Shh, shh,” he soothed, “that doesn’t matter, just hold still…”

It was a meaningless instruction considering he was holding you down, keeping you from moving even more than the bone-deep exhaustion you felt.

Succumbing to the numbness spreading through your mind and body, you let each thrust rock your limp form until finally, he slowed to a stop with a deep groan.  You could feel his cock flexing inside you, a familiar— yet all too foreign— warmth starting to fill you so deep it made your stomach sick.

“Fuck,” he sighed, relaxing slightly.  You swallowed thickly, that awful sound of his heavy breathing echoing around the room again; when you looked up at him, he looked quite different from anything you recognized— flushed with a thin layer of sweat making his sandy-blonde hair stick to his brow.  Some of that tension he carried was gone, and yet there was more energy, more intensity, to his presence than normal.  This was truly the Riddler without his mask, in a way that Edward Nashton somehow wasn’t.  There was so much more behind that mask than just a quiet, deranged man, and you saw now how much imprisonment in Arkham had changed him.

You remembered explaining in court how the Riddler persona was a way for a down-trodden, unstable man to pretend that his power fantasy was ideological in nature— and, with his small but loyal cult of followers, frame undeniably antisocial behavior as social, community-building work.  Now you were seeing it up close, you were feeling it inside you: he wanted to regain the control you took from him, and he filmed it so he could continue to inflate his ego and communicate his power as literally as possible.

The difference was, he didn’t need the persona anymore.  You never called him ‘the Riddler’ in trial or in interviews, no matter how often the reporters said it like it was his name.  Edward Nashton was a real person, an American citizen with a god-given right to a fair trial; the Riddler was a character, an anti-hero just as broken as the city that once latched onto him, before he tried to destroy it.

The person you were looking at was a convergence of both.  He didn’t need the mask anymore— and you didn’t just mean the leather one discarded on the floor.

You winced as he pulled out of you, grimacing as the sting was followed by the horrible feeling of his warm, sticky come oozing out of you.  You distantly heard him whisper something about how long he’d been waiting to do this to you, but your ears were ringing and you weren’t really focusing anyways.

“Was that good for you, too?” he asked jokingly, although you couldn’t tell if the joke was that you obviously hated it, or that you obviously loved it. 

Regardless, you said nothing.  You just breathed heavily and stared into space, waiting for him to take his camera and go.  He stayed still, looking down at your spent body, and his cock sticking out proudly from his pants, coated in your and his come.

"I'm still hard," he noticed.  "And you still have a hole I haven't used."

You gasped, beginning to try to crawl away as he grabbed you— even as tired as you were, you managed to put up the slightest hint of a fight.  It was futile, obviously but you tried.  He grabbed your ankles and dragged you down, climbing on top of you with a terrifying glimmer in his eye.  His gaze jumped over to his phone for a moment, and he picked it up.

"Oh, my followers are pretty adamant," he chuckled, showing you the live comments flooding in.

Fuck her in the ass! 

make her scream

YES do it riddler!!  I want this bitch to pay

He set it aside again and smiled at you. "You know I never want to let down my fans," he winked.

“Don’t,” you pleaded, “I can’t— you’ve already done enough, I learned my lesson.  Please, just go.”

“Get on your hands and knees,” he ordered, ignoring your begging entirely.

“No, I can’t,” you insisted again, beginning to cry weakly, “I really can’t, please…”

“If you’re not going to be good, I might have to put that gag back in,” he warned.  

“I’ll do anything, just please, not that!” you whined, trying to rush out a few more desperate pleas as he sighed and pulled up the gag to go around your mouth again.  You kept crying, wordlessly now, and he reached to his belt— your eyes followed his hands to see him grabbing the roll of duct tape.

“I’ve got something to keep that in place this time,” he smiled, pulling off a piece and securing it to your mouth even as you tried to turn away.  “Do you need some for your wrists, too, or are you going to behave?  Oh, better safe than sorry…”

He wrapped a longer piece behind your wrists as you sobbed quietly— well, it would’ve been loud, if it weren’t for the tape.  He rolled you onto your stomach and traced his bare fingers down your back with a purr.

“Don’t cry so hard,” he soothed quietly, “I think you’re gonna like this.”

[newidaho]

3.  FuTech Virtual Home School

Don’t have the time/patience/desire to read with your eyes? Don’t have eyes? Well, have your friend read you this:  You can check out the audiobook for free on Apple, Google, Stitcher, or Spotify.  Subscribe for new episodes every Wednesday!

12 December 2054

This was one of the most beautiful classrooms Charlie had been in all year.  The beach scene was especially nice considering it was winter in New Idaho.  Of course, it never got too cold by the Jungle, but if he ever happened to visit the mountains on the edge of town, Charlie had to wear at least a couple layers.  It was nice to be on a balmy beach in the middle of December.

Of course, most of the heat was in his head.  Though his visual environment showed him sitting on a beach in a group of about 50 other kids, looking out at the sun reflecting off the crashing ocean waves, the actual temperature he felt was no hotter than the room he sat in.  After four hours of class, however, it was easy to forget that this was a simulation—even though the sand underneath him obviously felt like carpet.

‘So, to recap.  If you see a number next to a letter, what does that mean?’  Mr. Carlson stood at the front of the classroom, the dark-skinned math teacher Charlie had met earlier that fall.  He had never met Mr. Carlson in person, of course, so it’s hard to gauge whether this was what he actually looked like.  It was always easier, however, to just believe that nobody doctored their looks in the Virtual Environment.  Charlie himself certainly hadn’t changed his avatar.  Even if he had the money to spend on a decent app for that, none of the students at FuTech were allowed to alter their appearance.  Technically, the same rule went for teachers.  There were rumors, however, that some of the richer students were able to get around this rule.  And it wasn’t hard to believe that the more popular teachers could get around it too.

‘Multiplication!’  The response was voiced with varied excitement by about 20 students.  At FuTech VR HomeSchool, it was drilled into the students to be grateful for their opportunity to have an education, and especially to have an education at FuTech.  After all, it was God’s Will that His children be educated, and the FuTech community was put here to train children and adults alike to carry out this Will in this next generation of Virtual Reality.  What some might call “Displaced Humanity,” FuTech called “Empowered Humanity”.  These new worlds, went the idea, were put here by the Lord Himself.  The Devil was in these worlds too, of course, but FuTech vehemently denied that Satan had any but the smallest influence in any of their students or simulations (for they oughtn’t deny original sin).  They prided themselves on their acknowledgement of God’s gifts.  That’s why all the freshmen were trained to respond with vitality to all their lessons, even though many were quite tired after four hours of classes.

‘Great.  That will do for today.’  Mr. Carlson started to put his belongings in order.  Charlie always thought it was funny when Mr. Carlson cleaned up—he could easily

program his papers to organize themselves.  Of course, part of the responsibility of Empowered Humanity was that they mustn’t forget the history of humans on Earth—Jesus had left them to act without such technological shortcuts for at least 2025 years, after all.  Mr. Carlson put his papers into his briefcase and continued, ‘Why don’t we stand for prayer.’

With a smile, Mr. Carlson motioned for everyone to stand up.  A breeze blew the palm trees around them, lending ambiance to the situation even if Charlie couldn’t feel it.  He noticed, however, that a couple of the students around him shivered.  This implied a couple possibilities.  First, they were likely in a sensory chamber, whether rented or owned.  Second, they had the money to rent or own a sensory chamber.  Charlie knew jealousy was a sin, but he couldn’t help but wish he could have felt even more present on this beach.

‘In the name of the Father and the Son we join hands in the Other World.’  The students moved into a circle and joined hands.  It wasn’t quite like holding hands in real life, but Charlie at least felt a pressure somewhat resembling a human hand due to his Lucid Gauntlets.  His were a couple generations behind, but at least it didn’t feel like he was holding onto nothing.

‘Heavenly father,’ Carlson started, ‘We gather here today, blessed as ever, under your watchful eye.  We thank you for this entrance into a whole new world, and we thank you for watching over us not only in this world that we share together today, but in the world that we all return to when we remove our Masks.  We pray that we may stay ever grateful for this new opportunity for education, and as always, for these new tools that you have inspired humans to create.  We thank you for the community these tools inspire and for the sense of belonging and kinship they allow us to feel toward each other and You.  We ask that you may further guide us in our pursuit of knowledge and that we may continue to learn and prosper with these new technologies.  We ask this in your name, and in the name of the Virtual Savior to come, Amen.’

‘Amen!’

‘We will have 15 minutes until the lobby closes.  If you wish, please stay around and speak about what you learned today.  I will be here if any of you have questions about the final.’

About a quarter of the students walked into the palm trees, out of sight.  Another quarter dove into the waves.  This representation of logging out provided a more realistic visual than the flash of light that might have been imagined by science fiction writers in the early century.  The remaining half of the students either went to talk with Mr. Carlson in a small group or stayed behind to talk with each other.

Charlie already knew how he wanted to spend his Extra Time.  As soon as the prayer circle finished, he had smiled and waved at a beautiful dark-skinned classmate across the circle, effectively welcoming her to talk with him when the day had finished.  Charlie, at 13, was admittedly awkward around girls, but something about the simulation gave him some extra confidence.

‘Hey Gamma,’ said Charlie when they finally met.

‘Hi Charlie.  How was your day?’

‘Oh, you know.  It’s school.  It’s not always fun, but the Lord provided this beautiful beach for us to learn on.  And we get to use what we learn to do the Lord’s work.  So it’s good.’

‘You sound like Mr. Carlson.’

‘Well, good!  Mr. Carlson is very smart!’

Gamma smiled.

‘So what are you going to do the rest of the day?’ Charlie asked her.

‘My dad wants me to help him outside.  It’s starting to snow, and he wants to put little sweaters on some of our trees.’

‘That’s cute.’

‘It’s a little silly—like, why have trees if they can’t grow on their own?  Isn’t that something trees are supposed to do?  But my dad tells me that even though God makes the weather we need, we still can’t assume it will be good for our trees.  He says that he wouldn’t put me out in the winter without a sweater, and the tree is like another kid, in a way.’

‘It’s really that cold where you’re at?’

‘Oh, you know, it’s not that cold.  But we get a little bit of snow around this time of year.  Especially over on the other side of the valley.  But it only really happens at night.  During the day it hardly ever goes below 50 degrees.’

‘It’s not cold at all where I live.’

‘Oh, where do you live?’

‘&^%#))@$!.’  Charlie could feel his lips move, but what he heard was a symphony of computerized beeps and blips.  It was one of the failsafe measures of the FTVRHS—you couldn’t swear and you couldn’t give away any personal information.

Gamma laughed.  ‘Oh yeah?  Sounds like a pretty tough place to grow up!’

Charlie laughed with her, but he had a feeling she could guess where he lived.  Just as it was obvious to him that she lived on the edge of town.  It made sense.  Gamma was beautiful in that way that he had noticed rich girls generally were.  And if she had indeed guessed he lived in South Jungle, he doubted he would ever have a chance.  But maybe, if it was God’s Will….

‘Oh!’ Gamma said, ‘We’re getting the five minute warning!  I think I’ll probably head out anyway.  My dad is waiting for me on the other side.  But it was nice talking to you, Charlie!  Maybe we can hang out sometime if we ever get play-date permission!’  Gamma squeezed Charlie’s hand goodbye, then ran into the waves and dove into the ocean.

Charlie accessed his own in-simulation menu by holding his arms out straight in front if him with his palms together, turning them ninety degrees, and spreading his arms apart vertically.  He placed his hand at the bottom of the menu, waving it over ‘Exit’.

Charlie’s screen went black and he removed his Lucid Mask.  His room was a much less attractive backdrop than the beach, that was for sure.  For one, he only had one small window—not much natural light.  He had a small bookshelf in the northeast corner of his room and a desk in the northwest corner.  His bed was leaned vertically against the wall, a measure he needed to take whenever he went into the Virtual Classroom.  Otherwise there just wasn’t enough room to walk around.  He slowly lowered his bed to the floor, lay on it, and looked at the ceiling, ready to contemplate the world.

Charlie had just barely begun his meditations when his mother simultaneously knocked and entered his room.  Charlie’s mother was still rather young, but she looked older than her age.  Though she had never been much for exercise, she certainly hadn’t treated her body well since Charlie’s birth, and at thirty, she was experiencing significant sagging in her gut and jowls.  She had kind eyes, but a hardened demeanor, and it was obvious she hadn’t come into Charlie’s room to catch up on his day.

‘Hey mom.’

‘Hi Charlie.  How was school.’

‘It was good.’  Charlie paused, planning to elaborate, but his mother continued before he could.

‘That’s good.  Hey, take five minutes or so, but then I need you to play some Mineshaft before dinner.’

Charlie liked video games, but after four hours in Virtual Reality, his eyes were rather tired.  Plus, even the most enjoyable activities feel less fun when they are forced upon you.

‘Hey!’  Charlie’s mom said.  His face must have given him away.  ‘How do you think we can afford a Mask for you in the first place?  How do you think we pay rent in here so you have a roof over your head?  And all I’m asking is an hour of your time, to play a video game.  Do you realize how lucky you have it?  This was not a thing when your grandfather was growing up, I’ll tell you that.  You couldn’t get paid to play video games for an hour.  But now that hour will buy us two nights of dinner.  So be grateful.  Okay?’

‘Okay,’ Charlie said.  ‘I am grateful, mom.  I’ll see you in an hour.’

‘Okay,’ his mother said and walked out of the room.  Charlie took a breath, tilted his bed back again the wall, and put his mask back on.  In his home menu, located in a room Charlie had set to a Japanese Dojo, Charlie waved his hand over the green cube with a big dollar sign over it.  The cube opened up, and three objects floated out.  He waved his hand over the one shaped like a pick-axe.

The Dojo disappeared, and Charlie was in a dark mineshaft.  About 200 feet ahead of him was a wall made purely of Gold.  So that was what he would be handling for the next hour, he thought.  A girl greeted him with a small cup of ore.  He took the cup from her and passed it on to the girl behind him.  He then received an empty cup from another boy behind him and passed it to the girl in front of him, who passed it up to the wall, where about 50 other individuals mined with pick axes.  This is what he would be doing for the next hour.  It wasn’t the most enthralling video game in the world, but at least he got paid for it.

Five people away, Charlie saw another boy remove a small sword from his back and decapitate a rat half his size as it pounced toward him.  Charlie shuddered.  There was something real about that aspect of the game.  He hoped he wouldn’t have to kill any rats today.  He took another cup from the girl in front of him and thought about Gamma, out in the sun, wisps of snow around her, putting knitted sweaters around young trees.

[junker-town]

2021 NBA player rankings, Nos. 10-1: Why Anthony Davis will be the best player in 4 years

It was a difficult choice and not a unanimous one, but Anthony Davis edged out several others to top our list.

We’ve finally reached the end of our countdown of the 101 best NBA players in 2021. Unlike the last time we did this exercise, the choice for No. 1 was not a simple one. If you asked each of us individually, we’d have 10 different top fives. But because this was a draft and not a consensus list, we ended up with 28-year-old Anthony Davis and a ton of internal arguments along the way.

Also in this final segment of the list: an unexpected selection at No. 4 that threw the entire draft out of whack. Plus, you’ll be curious to know where the current King of the league went.

10. Russell Westbrook

Age in 2021: 32 (13 seasons)

CHRIS GREENBERG: By 2021, Russ will have accrued four more years’ worth of motivating slights involving everyone anywhere close to him on this list. Given the likeliest relative states of the Thunder, Warriors, Lakers, Spurs, and LeBron over that span, he’ll probably still be chasing that ring wherever he is calling home.

This guy is going to be mad. Going hard. At everyone. Every night. Box scores, stacked. Opponents, racked. Even worse for everyone else, he might still be the most sweltering, stubborn force on the court.

Everyone else’s reactions

TOM ZILLER: He’ll be 32, and athletic guards usually age poorly. But Dwyane Wade held it together for a couple more years, and you can certainly see Westbrook’s indestructible body surviving four more seasons.

KRISTIAN WINFIELD: Unless Westbrook becomes an incredible three-point shooter, I can’t see a 32-year-old guard who relied mostly on athleticism still being an MVP-caliber player.

JOSHUA BROOM, WELCOME TO LOUD CITY: Given the reigning MVP's sheer reliance on athleticism, his still ranking in the top ten while almost 33 years old is quite the compliment. I'd place Russ between No. 17-25, personally.

It will be interesting to see how 6'3 Westbrook's floor game adjusts when his spring is past its prime.

KOFIE YEBOAH: I’d be fine with this pick up to the year 2019. Any time frame longer than that, I have trouble believing.

RICKY O’DONNELL: I truly do not want to imagine a world with old Westbrook.

ZITO MADU: [Westbrook voice] Why not?

More reading material

9. Joel Embiid

Age in 2021: 27 (7 seasons, technically)

KRISTIAN WINFIELD: I gave myself a rule: I wasn’t going to pick anyone over age 30 in this draft. Joel Embiid is a franchise-altering talent who hasn’t stayed healthy. I made this pick under the assumption he’s on the court more often than not in 2021.

Embiid checks all the boxes a team could want in a big man. He blocks shots, shoots threes, is a terror on the low and high blocks, dances shirtless at a Meek Mill concert, cursed out LaVar Ball, and wants to date Rihanna. If he gets over the injury bug, there’s no doubt he’s one of the league’s top talents in four years.

Everyone else’s reactions

TIM CATO: This is the Andrew Bynum predicament that we had in 2013, although we’re much more hopeful about Embiid, of course. Either he’s a top-10 player because he stays relatively healthy, or he’s out of the top 100 altogether if he cant. (Bynum ended up getting picked No. 82 four years ago.)

TOM ZILLER: Glad someone else took the plunge so it didn’t have to be me.

RICKY O’DONNELL: I almost took Embiid at No. 3. I would have considered him at No. 1, too. His impact defensively was incredible as a rookie. And he’s only been playing the game for, like, five years! Please keep this man healthy.

KYLE NEUBECK, LIBERTY BALLERS: If we're going to assume his body doesn't fall apart—and you need to if you're placing him this high at all—I would lean toward him being a top-five player. He was one of the best players in the league when he played last year, and that's with no previous NBA experience and debilitating injuries keeping him off the court for the prior two seasons.

Ranking him is super tough. I just believe you either have to go all-in or just sort of write him off.

WHITNEY MEDWORTH: I don’t trust his knees :(

KRISTIAN WINFIELD: But do you trust the process?

KOFIE YEBOAH: I am Kofie Yeboah and I do trust the process.

MATT ELLENTUCK: Joel Embiid can have my legs if he ever needs them. Good pick.

ZITO MADU: Sports has taught me that in the face of all evidence and sad reality, people will always have hope. I applaud this pick as a sign of human optimism.

More reading material

8. Kyrie Irving

Age in 2021: 29 (10 seasons)

WHITNEY MEDWORTH: Kyrie Irving wanted to leave LeBron James, his championship ring, and three straight Finals appearances to go be “the man” elsewhere. That elsewhere is now in Boston with Brad Stevens working his magic.

Assuming that Kyrie buys into what Stevens is selling, he better be in the top 10 of NBA players. This will be the peak Kyrie Irving at age 29, and he should be the best point guard in the league. Right, Kyrie?

Everyone else’s reactions

JEFF CLARK, CELTICS BLOG: Kyrie has always had top 10 talent, but this ranking foretells a perfect blend of dedication (by Kyrie), coaching (by Brad Stevens), and environment (roster built by Danny Ainge) to maximize his skills.

MIKE PRADA: Fascinating to see how this develops.

I was of the opinion that No. 8 in four years — and the best point guard in the NBA to boot — would be an absolute best-case scenario for Irving. I figured he’d get sent to a team that wouldn’t be ready to compete around him, dooming him to NBA irrelevancy.

But now he’s in Boston, with a good team that has terrific complementary pieces, young’ins to extend the window (or cash in for another star), and a coach that runs a fun system that gets the most out of stars.

The question is whether Irving willing to fully buy in to Brad Stevens’ style of play. I’m a little skeptical, but if he can, this might not be too nuts a ranking after all.

RICKY O’DONNELL: I just don’t see how Kyrie becomes a better player than Steph over the next four seasons.

CHRIS GREENBERG: Kyrie doesn’t necessarily have to be better than Steph — although the age difference could take care of that over four years. He just has to beat him. Curry was switched onto Irving in the waning seconds of Game 7 of the 2016 NBA Finals. Irving drained the three-point shot. The Land got a title.

Look out for Boston.

TOM ZILLER: I’m only concerned about whether Kyrie will still be a Flat Earther in four years.

More reading material

7. LeBron James

Age in 2021: 36 (18 seasons)

TIM CATO: Y’all really let LeBron James slip this far. Y’all really let perhaps the most aberrational deviation from normal human athleticism we’ve possibly ever seen, at least in this sport, slip to No. 7.

LeBron will be turning 36 in 2021, not rolling over onto his deathbed. Y’all know that last season, Bron had the most dunks of his entire career. For normal humans like you and me, we start declining athletically in the 30s, but LeBron’s getting better. Jokes on any of us who thought a supernatural athlete’s body would behave in normal, typical ways. We’re also coming off James’ best three-point shooting season of his career.

Yes, he’s going to start falling off in a few areas, but I’d be surprised if he’s not still a top-five player by the time 2021 rolls around. It just doesn’t seem feasible for James to be anything but great. Not until he’s 40 at least, damnit.

Everyone else’s reactions

TOM ZILLER: Karl Malone won a (fraudulent) MVP at age 36, and Michael Jordan won one at 35. So it’s certainly plausible that LeBron — who is way better than the former and on par with the latter as a talent — could perform at a top-five level at age 36.

The difference is that Jordan had 43,361 NBA minutes (regular season and playoff) when he won that final NBA MVP in 1998. LeBron already has 50,399 career minutes ... with four years to go until 2021.

LeBron is the only fighter you’d want in this battle, but Father Time is undefeated.

CHRIS MANNING, FEAR THE SWORD: As long as he gets some rest between now and then, age 37-38 season LeBron should still be very, very good.

WHITNEY MEDWORTH: The NBA is changing the schedule already in LeBron’s favor. Fewer back-to-backs, no more four-game-in-five-night stretches. Players are taking care of their bodies better now than ever. Plus, he can easily adapt his game to whatever it needs to be.

Never doubt, Bron. Not even 36-year-old Bron.

KOFIE YEBOAH: LeBron is a terminator, but it’s hard to imagine him still being this dominant going into his 18th season of pro basketball.

MIKE PRADA: Old Bron will be fascinating. Kobe didn’t exactly exit the NBA gracefully and Bron has more miles on him than Kobe did. Could it all fall apart at once for Bron like it did one day for Kobe? It’s hard to doubt him, but it was hard to doubt Kobe at the time, too.

Either way, I don’t think he’ll be No. 7. Either Bron will still be the undisputed king of the league, or he’ll be a sad, broken-down version of his former self. Hoping for the former.

KRISTIAN WINFIELD: In four years, LeBron will not be a top-five player. I’m sorry, I don’t believe it. He might not be in the NBA at all. He may end up retiring before 2021 to pursue that good ol’ acting career.

TIM CATO: What, is acting the new minor league baseball?

But I am still deadly serious about this pick. Give me Bron and his all-time historic greatness and I’ll fight any battle you send my way.

MATT ELLENTUCK: Wait, are we talking about the DJ or the player?

Doesn’t matter, LeBron is indestructible and I laugh at anyone who questions how good he will be in four years.

RICKY O’DONNELL: I look forward to taking Bronny James when we do this exercise again in 2021 for the 2025 season.

6. Kawhi Leonard

Age in 2021: 29 (10 seasons)

KOFIE YEBOAH: Kawhi is great defensively, and his offensive production has improved every year he’s been in the league. I can’t wait to see how dominant he becomes in a league where the seemingly immortal LeBron James gets older and older. Pretty soon, he’ll ... Kawhiet every doubter out there. *runs*

Everyone else’s reactions

MIKE PRADA: Hey, terrible puns are my jig.

We all missed the boat on this one. Kawhi will only be 29 in four years, smack in the middle of his prime. He gets better every year, to the point that I’ve stopped pretending I know how good he can be. I ultimately chose the dude next on this list ahead of him, but it was a tough decision. You could honestly make an argument for Kawhi being the No. 1 player in the league in four years and I wouldn’t blink.

We always overlook the Spurs, don’t we?

TIM CATO: You could honestly make an argument for Kawhi being the No. 1 player in the league right now and I wouldn’t blink. He’s gotten demonstratively better every season he’s been in the league. How’d he fall this far!?

TOM ZILLER: “We all missed the boat on this one.”

The fact that we saw “you could make an argument for him at No. 1” tells me I didn’t miss the boat on this one, being the guy with the No. 1 pick.

But this is a good selection. He should be a spot higher, at least.

TIM CATO: Hey, it was your own argument, Ziller!

BRUNO PASSOS, POUNDING THE ROCK: This is a tad low for Leonard, who's just entering his prime and has finished in the top 3 in MVP voting the last two years.

KRISTIAN WINFIELD: If Giannis Antetokounmpo was off the board and I was picking, I’d have picked Kawhi second. Damn you all for forcing me to the bottom.

WHITNEY MEDWORTH: Coach Pop can make 40-year-old players look good. Can you imagine an extremely prime Kawhi Leonard? Wooooweeeee. He should be higher.

ZITO MADU: The Spurs will still be surrounding him with 40-year-olds and undrafted European players in the future.

CHRIS GREENBERG: Kawhi probably won’t get the respect he deserves in 2021 either.

More reading material

5. Kevin Durant

Age in 2021: 32 (14 seasons)

MIKE PRADA: KD will be 33 in four years, the same age LeBron James will be this December. That’s working out just fine for Bron, isn’t it? Why wasn’t KD more in contention for the top spot on this list? (Especially ahead of the dude coming up next ... ).

There’s a slight worry that KD’s history of foot trouble will doom him, but he’s coming off one of the most dominant NBA Finals ever and can afford to rest during the regular season to stay fresh. He just finished the most efficient and least turnover-prone season of his career, and he was already damn efficient and careful with the ball. As long as he’s seven feet, he’ll get whatever shot he wants off. That won’t change in four years, not when the Warriors’ offense serves up easy looks on a silver platter.

He’d be No. 1 on my list, with Kawhi No. 2. I’m stunned both were there when it was my turn.

Everyone else’s reactions

JUSTIN MAK, GOLDEN STATE OF MIND: After 5-peating as champions, KD and Stephen Curry (13th) go down as a GOAT-tandem. Anywhere below 1 and 2 is ludicrous.

TIM CATO: It’s still unfair that Durant suddenly turned into one of the league’s best defenders in the past few years. He always had these moments, but suddenly becoming a legitimate, 82-games-a-year rim protector and versatile switcher in addition to his offense? Damn.

Durant’s going to finish as a top ... 10 player of all time? Dare I say top five? He needs to stay healthy, but I believe that’s an extremely reasonable prediction.

RICKY O’DONNELL: We are all idiots for letting KD slip this far.

TOM ZILLER: I considered Durant for No. 1 but the foot trouble and his still-slight frame made me go another direction. Part of the comparison to current LeBron that strikes me as off is that Peak LeBron was much better than Peak Durant to date. He’s also more muscular and well-rounded. The thin die first in a famine!

KRISTIAN WINFIELD: I stayed away from players who will be over 30 in 2021, and Durant falls in this category. But he’ll certainly be the best player in his age bracket in four years.

More reading material

4. Kristaps Porzingis

Age in 2021: 25 (6 seasons)

MATT ELLENTUCK: I’ve receved a lot of heat for this pick, but I never even came close to hesitating. If you don’t see how unicornly unicorny Kristaps Porzingis is by now, I give up. If you don’t understand how that talent is going to translate when he’s 26 years old, bulkier, and maybe not a Knick anymore, I’m not sure how to explain it.

He’s a 7’3 shooter who can stretch out to anywhere. He’s been forced to play power forward in a system neither he nor his teammates liked. Just wait until he’s in the right situation that lets him play center.

He’s also 22 years old right now, so in four years, he will just start to reach his prime.

(Go away, inevitable criticism.)

Everyone else’s reactions

JOE FLYNN, POSTING AND TOASTING: The greatest Knicks draft pick since Ewing officially takes his place as the greatest Knick since Ewing.

MIKE PRADA: Are you serious, Matt?

WHITNEY MEDWORTH: The Knicks won’t allow Kristaps to be this good.

MIKE PRADA: There’s that, which is a huge part of why this pick makes no sense. Even if you assume that Kristaps really is the fourth-most-talented player in the NBA in four years, what are the chances the Knicks actually nurture it correctly?

There’s also the fact that as fun as Kristaps is, his game does not measure up to several of his peers just yet. His PER was so-so last year, his true shooting percentage was around the league average, and he’s not a great playmaker or defender against smaller players yet. He will obviously improve because the Knicks put him in the absolute worst situation possible last year, but he has a bigger mountain to climb than I think a lot of folks realize. (And remember: That assumes the Knicks actually put him in a position to climb it going forward, which is a huge assumption.)

The guy Matt picked last round (Nikola Jokic, No. 14) is younger, more productive, and plays for a better team than KP. Nobody considered Jokic in the top five in this exercise, so why would Porzingis be included? I want him to be this good, but realistically he belongs in the late teens or early 20s.

MATT ELLENTUCK: I’m extremely hesitant to use advanced numbers against any player inside his first four years in the league. For a Knick, I might even extend that time frame. For someone who was a Knick in year two, and more specifically a Knick in 2017, I am going to extend that time frame some more.

This is about where Porzingis can be in 2021, and I think his ceiling is this high.

TOM ZILLER: I don’t think it’s ridiculous to think Porzingis will be really good in four years — he’s really good now! But to be better than Durant, LeBron, Kawhi, Westbrook and James Harden? That’s a big ask.

KRISTIAN WINFIELD: I think Kristaps will eventually be a player the likes of which the NBA has never seen. I don’t think he gets to that point by 2021.

ZITO MADU: By 2021, Kristaps will be playing for the Lakers, so I’m fine with this.

CHRIS GREENBERG: On the bright side, Matt, I have many Knicks fans in my family who will love seeing this. Uncle Elliot, this is for you.

More reading material

3. Karl-Anthony Towns

Age in 2021: 25 (6 seasons)

RICKY O’DONNELL: Karl-Anthony Towns should have been a junior in college last season. He still averaged 25 points and 12 rebounds per game while finishing top-15 in the league in true shooting percentage, PER, and win shares. He’ll be 25 years old in 2021 and should be reaching the height of his powers.

I see Towns as a player with very few holes in his game. He can score with his back to the basket, stroke three-pointers, and clean the glass. He also has the frame to handle center responsibilities long-term if the Wolves ever let him do it. Look for him to grow as a passer as the Wolves continue to build around him.

I might have gone with Joel Embiid — who has a clear edge defensively — if you could have promised me his health. Instead, here’s hoping Tom Thibodeau doesn’t run Towns into the ground before he’s legally old enough to rent a car.

Everyone else’s reactions

ERIC GOLDMAN, CANIS HOOPUS: Third? Are Michael Jordan from Space Jam and Superman going to be in the league in 2021?

TOM ZILLER: I almost took Towns No. 1 overall. The numbers at his age and development arc are ridiculous. The Wolves should certainly be a winning team this season, too, so he can add that to his résumé. What a player.

KRISTIAN WINFIELD: This is the same as saying Karl-Anthony Towns is an MVP candidate in 2021. Not so sure I’m on that bus.

MIKE PRADA: Not entirely sure what happened to his defense last year, because we were praising him on that end every year prior. Assuming that turns around, Towns absolutely can be an MVP candidate. Solid selection.

TIM CATO: You can actually rent a car before you turn 25. They just charge you more. (Trust me, I would know!) Do we think KAT can afford it?

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2. Giannis Antetokounmpo

Age in 2021: 26 (8 seasons)

ZITO MADU: I knew I made the right choice when I logged into Twitter, saw Giannis asking Kobe Bryant what challenge the Lakers legend had for him, and Kobe replied with “MVP.”

MVP https://t.co/cjmWH5Mqyz

— Kobe Bryant (@kobebryant) August 27, 2017

Not that Giannis will get it this year, but it seems inevitable at some point in his career. He improves in leaps and bounds every year, so by 2021, the NBA might have to count him as two players to make the game fair for others.

Everyone else’s reactions

KOFIE YEBOAH: It was very stupid of me to think that Giannis would fall to me at No. 6. I can’t wait until he’s the King of the League.

KRISTIAN WINFIELD: I had every intention of picking Giannis until I realized I was picking No. 9. Must be nice.

TIM CATO: I would’ve taken him first — after a whole lot of hand wringing.

KYLE CARR, BREW HOOP: ​The rise of Giannis has been amazing, to say the least. Be has gone from man of mystery to the heir to best player of the Eastern Conference, and he still can get better. By 2021, it will require only one hand to name players better than him.

RICKY O’DONNELL: Can someone who can’t shoot really be the best player in the league in this era? I’m not doubting Giannis at all, but it will be fascinating to see how he adapts his game as he reaches his prime.

TIM CATO: Can someone address Ricky’s (totally valid) argument, please? I’m too busy watching Antetokounmpo go from the opposite three-point line to dunking in two dribbles to be bothered with him right now.

TOM ZILLER: Giannis is already almost an A+ at all important basketball skills except shooting. If he’s a C shooter, he can be right there at the top.

MIKE PRADA: There’s some logic to Ricky’s point, but Giannis is also the kind of player that can completely warp what skills actually matter in the NBA. In other words: Shooting matters for like 99 percent of NBA players, and Giannis is the 1 percent. I would have put him in contention for No. 3 with Towns and the guy who went No. 1, behind KD and Kawhi.

I’m also a little concerned that the Bucks won’t fully maximize his potential, but that might be an irrational fear.

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1. Anthony Davis

Age in 2021: 28 (9 seasons)

TOM ZILLER: This was a tough pick, truly. I considered Giannis, Towns, and Durant in addition to The Brow.

It ended up being a series of comparisons that led me here. Giannis is wonderful and a smart pick at No. 2, but Davis has done the unicorn things more consistently for longer. The same applies to Towns — he’s incredible, but has only been able to show that for two season. Davis has been unreal for four.

As for Durant, he’ll be 33 entering the 2021-22 season, whereas Davis will be just 28. It’s similar to where LeBron and Durant were entering this season in terms of age. We don’t yet know if KD will age like LeBron — in other words, we don’t have evidence that Durant will continue to add and refine skills and make his body a masterpiece. Durant has also had injury issues LeBron did not.

Of course, Davis is a walking bag of maladies. But I have faith that his body will get right and so will his team, whether that’s in New Orleans or elsewhere. The Brow is still the future of the league until someone forcibly takes that title from him.

Everyone else’s reactions

OLEH KOSEL, THE BIRD WRITES: At 28 years of age, there's a good chance this high-flying 7-footer will have mastered every facet in his prime: long range shooting, playmaking, and winning tons of games. But I admit I'd feel better about the top overall pick if someone were to finally rid the Voodoo curse ravaging New Orleans locker rooms sooner rather than later!

CHRIS GREENBERG: This is a good and true pick.

KRISTIAN WINFIELD: You smart. You loyal.

TIM CATO: “I considered Giannis, Towns, Durant, and Dion Waiters,” is the sentence Ziller wanted to write.

TOM ZILLER: You know the true me.

ZITO MADU: This all depends on him being able to balance basketball and his role as a Kaiju in the new Pacific Rim, but good choice.

TIM CATO: Jokes aside, this is really just about whether the injuries catch up to Davis before his overwhelming talent fully develops, right?

He’s already this good at age 24, with an increasingly unstoppable mid-range game that’s coupled with incredible finishing around the rim. He can be better on defense, but he’s already good. He can start hitting threes consistently, but he’s slowly shooting more of those anyway.

He can stay healthy? I wish I could put that question mark in 72-point font, because it’s the only one that matters for Davis. Well, that, and getting him some decent teammates, damnit.

MIKE PRADA: I’d have placed Davis No. 4 or No. 5, which is probably a little lower than most. To me, KD and Kawhi were clear Nos. 1 and 2, with Giannis, AD, and Towns in some order thereafter.

Health is a big reason, but not the only reason.

The other reason is that Davis is much more of a play finisher than a play starter. Last year, only 34 percent of his buckets were unassisted — and that was a career high. It was also only the second season in which that mark cracked 30 percent.

Towns, by comparison, was already at 36 percent last year despite being three years younger. Kawhi and Giannis were both well over 50 percent, and KD was over 48 percent every year since 2010-11 before dropping to 38 percent on the loaded Warriors.

This is splitting hairs, of course. AD is arguably the best play finisher in the league already, which counts for something. But relative to the other real candidates for the top spot, Davis needs more help to put him in positions to succeed.

Barring improvement, that’s enough for me to drop him down ever so slightly.

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INTRO | FULL LIST | TOP 100 OF 2017 | HOW WE DID IN 2013 | SNUBS | 101-91 | 90-81 | 80-71 | 70-61 | 60-51 | 50-41 | 40-31 | 30-21 | 20-11 | 10-1 | THE CASES FOR NO. 1