#it had one of those giant chalkboard that was like 4 chalkboards long and 2 high

[wild-moss-art]

Moss is giving a giant box of coloured chalk and knows no one will come to the classroom for at least an hour. What do they do?

A cute lil professor to motivate everyone :3

#byleth eisner #fire emblem #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #myart #alt answer. I couldn’t find photos #but one time when I was in college I snuck into a giant lecture room with some friends at night #it had one of those giant chalkboard that was like 4 chalkboards long and 2 high #you had to use a stepladder to get to the top ones #and we drew a GIANT DICK ACROSS ALL OF THE CHALKBOARDS #the next morning one of my other friends saw it on a snap story. victory :3 #so that #my ocs #mosscore as in moss the oc moss. core

[somethingclevermahogony]

Rewrite Tag

Doing a few here! @illarian-rambling (x3), @mk-writes-stuff (x2), @roach-pizza , @willtheweaver , and @theeccentricraven thank you for the tags! I think that was all of my Rewrite tags, woo!

Line 1 (Katie)

He traced one of the images with a finger; two gods debated furiously on twin mountain peaks. A mature woman with ears of gold, a winged lizard coiled around her feet, and a young girl holding a copper-furred hound by the scruff. Their faces were so similar, like a mother and daughter.

My Rewrite

He ran the tip of his finger around the edges of the image; two divine figures trapped in a heated debate each stood upon twin mountain peaks. An older woman, her ears made from gold, wrapped round her feet the form of winged lizard, and opposite her a young girl who held at bay a copper-colored hound by its scruff. Their faces were eerily similar, like those of a mother and a daughter.

Line 2 (Katie)

Suddenly, but gently, the memory of a great plaza trickled into Izjik’s mind, filled with hundreds of dancing people, their skin and hair shining with all the colors of Illaros. A vast, tile mosaic covered the floor and the dancing people followed its geometric lines. Above, the vaulted ceiling was painted with swirling, spiraling rays of sunlight and though the space was indoors, potted palms swayed with artificial wind.

My Rewrite

All at once, though not violently, the memory of the great plaza filled Izjik’s mind. There it was in her mind’s eye, the grand space filled with hundreds of people, their skins and hairs shining and glittering with every color that Illarian eyes had ever seen, they danced, twirled and spun. Their feet followed the paths laid out by the expansive mosaic of colored tile which covered the floor. High above on vaulted ceilings were painted swirling and spiraling rays of sunlight and though walls may have surrounded them, the fronds of potted plants swayed to an artificial breeze.

Line 3 ( Also Katie)

Izjik rubbed furiously at her eyes, trying desperately to get some modicum of moisture back in there. That fucker— that motherfucker hadn’t blinked even once for an entire godsdamned day! Nevermind the state of her poor feet, nevermind that she’d had to pick not one, not two, but twenty-three thorns out of her hands, but what type of infamously many-eyed being couldn’t remember to blink for the spirits’ sake!

My Rewrite

Izjik rubbed desperately at her eyes as she attempted to work up some small trace of moisture. They hadn't even blinked once, not even once over the course of an entire day. That fucker! That motherfucker! And that was not to mention the state of her feet, nor the fact that she had been forced to pluck twenty-three thorns from her hands. What sort of many-eyed being doesn't remember to blink for the spirit's sake? She thought bitterly to herself.

Line 4 (MK)

He had long, clumsily cut black hair and soft brown skin. He was awkwardly holding a massive bag of potatoes in one arm, with a cutting board tucked behind it, and a chef’s knife clumsily in the other fist. He stared about the kitchen and his grey eyes fell, squinting, on the stretch of countertop next to her.

My rewrite

His shaggy black hair was was haphazardly cut, his skin a soft brown. Held with some difficulty in one arm was a massive bag of potatoes, an old cutting board held in place behind it. Clumsily gripped in his other hand was a chef's knife. He stood there for a moment, his grey eyes squinted as they took in the countertop beside her.

Line 5 (Morgan (Roach-Pizza))

A man's tan hand swept across a giant chalkboard as he took the other one and pulled a joint out of his mouth. Smoke lazily poured from his lips as he placed the eraser back into position. His tired, hazed baby blues then scanned the desk where pastel colored papers were in an unorganized pile with an ashtray next to the mess.

My rewrite

The man swept his hand over the board, his tan skin dusted with chalk. With the other hand he pulled a joint from the corner of his mouth. Smoke poured from between his lips as he set the eraser back in its usual position. His blue eyes, glazed over with fatigue, inspected the desk upon which pastel colored sheets sat in a heap, an ashtray at the pile's edge.

Line 6 (willtheweaver)

The air had a musty quality to it. Not the smell of damp and decay, but of hundreds of years of history. This was a place of great families, of titles handed down through the generations. Etched into the walls were tales of love, sorrow, and death told throughout the centuries.

My Rewrite

The air had a musty smell, though not the stench of the damp, of mold and mildew, of decay. It was a smell which could only be produced by the passing of ages. In these ancient halls was recorded the lines of ancient families, of titles passed from generation to generation in unbroken chains. Carved into the stones were tales, their subjects long since rendered to distant memory and dust, songs and stories of love and sorrow, life and death.

Line 7 (MK)

“Lord Narcissus,” she said with a curtsy as she got close to him. “You’re looking lovely tonight.”

It wasn’t even a lie. He did look lovely. He had an elaborate red flowery hairpiece made out of real flowers, and he was wearing a tight red cocktail dress that, while definitely scandalous, did admittedly draw attention to his figure. Narcissus was a good-looking man – it was a shame that was his only virtue.

My Rewrite

"Lord Narcissus," she said as she approached. She stopped and curtsied, her head tilted respectfully. "You look lovely tonight."

It was true, he was a good-looking man. His hair was pulled back by a crown of real flowers, the red cocktail dress he wore may have been tighter than polite company would have typically allowed, but it certainly did show off his figure in spectacular fashion. There was no denying that Narcissus was beautiful. Unfortunately, it was not a virtue which extended past the physical.

Line 8 (Raven)

Justin felt a ripple go up his spine that felt like a thousand knives stabbing him. He curved his back and cried as he felt a burning sensation reaching into every corner of his body. Deep inside his thighs, in his stomach, in his elbows, feet, chest, and knees, he could feel something eating inside him. It was like millions of worms crawling inside him and eating every inch of his body inside and out.

My Rewrite

Justin felt a sharp pang race up his spine. It was as if thousand of knives had been driven into his back. He curved his back and cried out in pain, as a searing agony spread across body. Deep in his thighs, stomachs, elbows, feet, chest, and knees, no part spared. He could feel something inside of him, wriggling, moving, feeding. It was if his very veins had been replaced with writhing and twisting worms, worms that conspired to eat him from the inside out.

Tagging some of y'all back @illarian-rambling , @mk-writes-stuff , @elsie-writes , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @writingamongther0ses , and @foragedbonesblog and whoever else is interested!

Your Line

The blood dripped into the awaiting bowl and painted its alabaster walls crimson. Narul watched it trickled down his arm, skirting past the hairs, rolling veins, and moles. Despite these twenty years of blood lettings, he could not shake a creeping feeling of unease as his eyes followed its creeping path down his arm. He gazed back at himself from the scarlet pool, he could not meet his own eye, could not stand to look that creature in the face. He turned away.

Also in other news, I finally made the cheesecake for my 200 follower celebration, I'll be posting about that tomorrow.

#testamentsofthegreensea #writeblr #writing #rewrite #tag game! #some of these were pretty hard! #fantasy writing

[falseroar]

Silent Watch Part 5: The Master’s Apprentice

((Y/N has to do something to get through to Jameson while there’s still a chance. Luckily, help is on the way, if it can just get there in time. Also, I’ve decided to post 2 parts tonight instead of combining them together, for reasons that made sense at the time. Part 6 will be going up soon after this one.

Warnings for mentions of blood and possession.

Link to Part 1 and to Part 4.))

“Jameson, please, I know you can hear me,” you said, the words more a desperate hope as you backed away from the actor. Without taking your eyes off of him, you reached into your pocket. “And I know this…thing is making you think every terrible thing it’s saying, but it’s lying. You are more than your movies or your studio or any of all that. Even if they fail, that does not make you a failure.”

You drew out your silver pocket watch, your ward, and summoned up the magic words that went with it as you pressed it into his unresisting hand. The same ones your grandfather gave you when you needed it most.

“You are more than just this one moment in time. I promise, you’re going to be okay, even if it doesn’t seem like it right now.”

You curled Jameson’s fingers around the watch and forced yourself to let go.

Your heart physically hurt to let go, and you fought to keep down the sudden feeling of being open and exposed without your ward to protect you.

As you watched, Jameson looked down and turned his hand to stare at the silver design. After a long, long moment, his thumb slowly moved to press the release, causing the case to open and reveal the face inside and the seconds passing by.

“…” Jameson turned his gaze toward you, and for just a second you saw the same strange silver light in his eyes before he tried to speak.

And then immediately doubled over, the watch held tight in one hand as the other reached for his throat.

“Jameson?!”

You knelt down and had to pause as a wave of nausea rushed over you. Your stomach turned and your hand on Jameson’s shoulder was as much to steady yourself as to try and help him.

He gagged and you could feel the tremors in his shoulders again as his whole body heaved and retched with no relief. A line of blood began to drip from his nose and you briefly saw his eyes flicker black before returning to panic. He was in control, for now, but you both knew that thing was still inside him.

“We need…we need…” you started and stopped, feeling the helplessness spread out around you as your head began to spin.

A dazzling light touched down in the middle of the path, briefly illuminating the woods with a bright golden light before it resolved into the shape of a person.

“I’ve found you, foul fiend! Now prepare to let him go!”

He sounded like a man, although a strange mask hid part of his face, and brilliant blue robes hung down from his shoulders as he brought up a pair of hands glowing with green flames in a fighting stance.

Only to pause and look around, taking in the stranger’s dead body and then you holding the shuddering and shivering Jameson. He looked again at the corpse and let out a long string of swears before lowering his hands and letting the green flames die away.

“New host?” he asked after a moment of silence, pointing at Jameson.

“I—y-yes?” you answered hesitantly, feeling the ache of a major headache coming on. “There was…something inside of that man and it-it went into Jameson and I don’t…I don’t…”

You let the words trail off as the headache worsened, like a pickax driving into the left side of your brain, but the new stranger just nodded.

“No time to waste then. Hold on tight, the first time can be rough.”

Before you could gather your thoughts together to even ask, the man rubbed his hands together as though trying to warm them up before dropping into a crouch, one hand pressed solidly against the ground while the other went around your shoulders to grab Jameson’s shaking arm.

This close, you could just hear him mutter something under his breath, but the individual words swirled together in your mind as you watched the light spread from his hand into the shape of a circle before the ground itself dropped out beneath you.

You cried out, arms reflexively wrapping themselves around Jameson and in turn the new stranger, eyes shut tight to block out the brilliant swirl of light and colors all around until they just as suddenly stopped.

“Normally I wouldn’t stop you, but again, we don’t have a lot of time here.”

You opened your eyes in time to see a bright blue eye wink on the other side of that weird mask and released your grip on the magician so that he could straighten up and walk away. You blinked, eyes struggling to adjust after the darkness of the woods followed by…whatever that just was, and gradually took in the strange place you and Jameson had found yourselves in.

Old-fashioned iron braziers hanging on the stone walls held torches, already lighting the circular room with a flickering glow that didn’t quite reach all the way to the ceiling, where a glass dome overhead put you in mind of an eye looking down, with the full moon overhead nearly at its center. There was a desk on one side, or the suggestion of one underneath a leaning pile of giant books and open scrolls with their ends hanging down to the floor, matching the general disarray all around the room, with more texts stacked around teeming bookshelves and other wooden shelves holding much stranger things, from jars containing liquids and powders varying from salt to a dark, viscous liquid in which floated something you’d rather not look too closely at. There were also several chalkboards near the desk, their surfaces covered in a mix of scrawling handwriting and other shapes that might be a language you didn’t recognize.

Only the center of the room was clear of any of the strange debris, leaving space for a large circle drawn onto the stone floor using chalk where you and the actor remained crouched. You were dimly aware of another, smaller circle nearby, this one a more permanent fixture made using iron maybe, but the more you looked around, the more your head spun trying to make sense of any of this.

“Who are you?” you asked, and then when you felt Jameson’s shoulders lurch as he tightened in on himself again, your silver watch clenched tight to his chest, “Can you help Jameson?”

“Is that his name?” the masked man asked over his shoulder as he practically sprinted over to the desk and grabbed a book left open on top before taking a look at the messy writing on the chalkboards. “I’m Marvin. The Magnificent, if I do say so myself.”

“…Really?”

“Trust me, you’ll be saying the same thing once I’ve saved your friend. Speaking of, look at his eyes, tell me what you see.”

“Uh, they’re…” You leaned closer, trying to get a good look, and Jameson managed to force them open long enough to give you a silent plea before they snapped shut again. “There’s blood, the corner of his eye—”

“Color?” Marvin interrupted. “His eyes, not the blood.”

“They’re back to blue. They were green, when that—what was that thing, what did it do to him?”

You felt a hand on your shoulder and looked up to see the magician standing beside you, the mouth beneath his mask set into a grimace as he knelt to take a look for himself.

“It’s difficult to explain, but there are—spirits isn’t the right word, those are something else entirely—let’s say entities out there, bodiless things loosely attached to our plane of existence that want…well, it varies, but occasionally one of these things takes an interest in humanity. Particularly how the right humans can be…open to, or made to be more hospitable for those entities to hitch a ride in, especially if they’re at their lowest, most desperate point. Like your friend here.” Marvin gently turned Jameson’s hand, just enough so that he could see the watch held tight within it, and a new note of interest entered his voice. “What is this?”

“A ward.”

Marvin hummed but didn’t attempt to take it away from Jameson, not that you would have let him.

“Some kind of ward, if it can hold this thing back for so long. Jameson, can you hear me?”

Jameson nodded, but when he opened his mouth to answer only a strangled sound came out.

“Don’t strain yourself. And don’t worry, we’re going to get you back to normal.” You saw Marvin’s eyes on the other side of that mostly white mask move to meet your own briefly as he added, “Promise.”

“Can you stand up for me, Jameson?”

It took some help from you and the magician, but Jameson managed to get to his feet and remain standing there, swaying softly on unsteady legs. Marvin gestured and you stepped back, outside of the chalk circle on the ground, leaving the two of them standing alone in the center.

“How do you know…Will this work?” you asked, feeling your words tangle together as you struggled to focus, to let all of this sink in while trying to keep away the sense that the room was slowly spinning around you. “Have—have you done this before?”

“My master was studying this kind of entity before—” Marvin paused, and for the first time you heard his voice break before he took a steadying breath of his own. “I’ve spent these last few months doing nothing but researching and perfecting the ritual he started, to weaken it and banish it from our reality for a few more centuries, if we’re lucky.”

“Your master?” You leaned against a creaking bookshelf as your mind went back to the woods. Back to the broken body this thing inside of Jameson left behind. “Was he—”

“Yes.” Marvin’s tone was short, clipped and shutting down any chance for more questions. “I need to focus.”

You watched as Marvin began to step around Jameson, hands glowing along with the four symbols on his mask as he gestured, his voice a steady, lulling murmur. Despite everything, despite your concern for Jameson and your pounding headache, you felt your eyes drift, each attempt to open them harder than the last.

Within the circle, Jameson’s eyes tracked Marvin’s movements as the magician prowled around him and the air itself began to feel thicker, charged with an energy that cracked and buzzed with each new whispered word. That is, until Marvin rounded the actor again and found a solid black set of eyes staring back at him, above a twisted smile.

“You…think this will work?” it asked, using Jameson’s voice. “ P͈͕̋̋at͎̯̣͐̈́͊h̠͚̟ͫ̉̋eṭ͙͒̿icͨ. I can’t wait to break you like your piti̤̗f̫͙͚̗̖u̝̰̠͕̲͔ͅl̰̣͍̼͈ master.”

But Marvin saw the way the muscles in Jameson’s face and neck strained, fighting back against the words coming out of his mouth, the way his hand trembled with the silent battle to keep holding onto the silver watch held there.

“You’re going to be waiting for a while then,” Marvin said as he lunged forward, one hand on the back of Jameson’s neck, the other going to the actor’s chest, pinning that trembling hand holding the watch in between his own and Jameson’s beating heart. Marvin didn’t know what kind of magic had been written into the making of that watch, but he was going to need all the help he could get for this part.

((End of Part 5.

And here’s the link to Part 6.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch ))

#markiplier #jacksepticeye #fanfiction #wkm y/n #jameson jackson #antisepticeye #marvin the magnificent #monster au

[sofreakinmanyfandoms]

November 14 - We’re Gonna Go Flirt with Superheroes

Some important notes:

1. Thank you to my amazing friend Dean for letting me use their delightful self as a character in this fic. You may all be jealous that I actually know this person.

2. Because Dean does not have the cleanest of language, this fic has significantly more swearing than anything else I've posted here. I still only put half as much language as normally spews from their mouth. Love you, babe.

3. I've never actually been to a hipster bar and it's been years since I've been to Portland. Please forgive me for any obvious errors.

4. I normally shy away from describing the reader too much, but honestly? I needed this. I needed to explore a bit what it's like being straight but looking gay, because while it's nothing compared to what the LGBT+ community goes through, it's something I get a lot of grief for from my conservative Christian extended family. I needed a fic where the main girl has short hair, okay? Okay.

Thanks for letting me vent myself in this fic.

Word count: 2416

Warnings: Language, mentions of cheating, if you’re homophobic you’ll hate this one so go suck an egg

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X short haired!hipster!Reader

“Ah, Portland,” Sam said with a sigh, looking around at the bar that was definitely owned by someone very hipster. “Remind me again why we’re here?”

“It was the closest city with the material Stark needs to fix the jet,” Steve reminded him. “He’ll have it ready by morning and we’ll be on our way back to the compound.”

“Friends,” Thor declared cheerily, throwing his arms around their shoulders, “despite our transport’s destruction, we have won a great victory this day! Let us celebrate, even if your Midgardian drinks are weaker than mother’s milk.”

Bucky followed behind them, feeling out of place as he took in the décor. The floor and ceiling were concrete, but the walls had been coated in what looked like disassembled pallets with wooden booths build out of the walls. The free-standing tables were giant spools and he was pretty sure no two chairs in the whole building matched. Whoever had been in charge of decorating had even taken the chalkboard menu trope to the extreme, making the whole wall behind the bar a blackboard instead of just hanging one up. Everything was decked out in old – sorry, “recycled” – netting and buoys, presumably ones that had seen actual use based on their condition. Also, Bucky had never seen so much flannel in his life.

He settled into a booth with Sam as Steve and Thor went to get their drinks. The other man was looking around, a determined expression on his face.

“Here’s where we get to the hard part,” Sam whispered to him. “Now we’ve gotta figure out which women are gay and which are just fashionable.

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows at his friend. “I don’t understand.”

Sam leaned back and nodded to the bar. “Well, normally you see a woman in skinny jeans, a plaid flannel, and a beanie? She’s a lesbian. But we’re in Portland, where that’s everyone’s style, so it gets harder. Like the chick on the end of the bar? Pixie cut, slouchy beanie, band tee that’s probably for some local group her friend is in under her open flannel, black jeans that look painted on, and totally ignoring the prime male specimens currently ordering our drinks in favor of her cell phone? Definitely gay. But that chick over there,” he subtly pointed to a nearly identically-dressed girl, shorter and with longer hair, who had definitely noticed Steve and Thor’s presence, “is either straight or bi. I can work with either of those.”

Snorting at his friend’s explanation, Bucky flashed a quick look back at the woman at the end of the bar. Sam was probably right. Too bad; she was beautiful, and he wouldn’t have minded getting to know her better.

----------

You sighed at your phone and shifted on your seat at the end of the bar. Your friend was late again; they were always late. According to the text chain you were receiving nearly non-stop, they were also probably already drunk, not that that was surprising anymore.

“Come on, Dean,” you muttered under your breath. “I need you here before he shows up.”

Five minutes later, your friend stumbled through the door, giggling madly at, well, you didn’t want to know what. They stumbled their way over to you and collapsed onto a stool.

“Why are we here?” Dean immediately began complaining. “I stick out like a sore thumb. I’m more goth than hipster, you know that.”

“We’re here because I nanny for the owner part-time so the drinks are free,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes. “You know fully well that any place becomes your scene when you don’t have to pay for alcohol.”

“True,” Dean replied with another giggle. “I didn’t have to pay at the last place either, because I’m fucking hot. Three guys and two girls bought me drinks.”

“Aaand, that’s it, you’re cut off for the night,” you sighed, asking the bartender for a coffee for your definitely drunk friend. “You did kill your makeup tonight, though. It looks great.”

“Damn right it does,” they slurred. “Hey, how come you didn’t tell me? I’d have gotten here a hell of a lot sooner if you’d told me there were Avengers in the building.”

You followed your friend’s line of sight to where there were in fact four members of the Avengers seated in a booth.

“Oh… I didn’t notice them.”

Dean scoffed and gave you that knowing look that you really hated. “You got lost in your phone again, didn’t you? Just in case he showed up.” The blush on your face was enough of an answer. “Damn it, woman, he’s a fucking asshole who never deserved you and I’d have killed him already if you weren’t so fucking concerned with whether or not things are legal.” They downed the rest of their coffee with a grimace and pushed themselves off the bar, grabbing for your hand. “Come on. We’re gonna go flirt with superheroes.”

Your eyes widened in horror. “Oh no. I am not going to talk to the Avengers with you while you’re drunk.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed as they looked at you. “Then you have to promise me you’ll sing karaoke tonight. You haven’t done it since that bastard criticized your voice, and I miss hearing it. You’re fucking good, and you let that fucking moron rob us all of your beautiful songbird-ness.”

“I hope you realize how drunk you sound.”

“Do we have a deal or not? Because if I’m going to give up a shot at fucking Thor, it had better be for a good reason.”

You sighed. Your friend was always stubborn like this. “Fine, we have a deal.”

“Awesome! I get to pick your song.”

“Aw, hell, no…”

----------

Your ex showed up right before karaoke started as he always did.

“Look at the smug asshole,” Dean muttered into the drink they’d somehow managed to get despite your best efforts. They put on a comically feminine voice and mimicked, “I must sing every chance I get, for my voice is God’s gift to mankind and to deprive people of the joy of listening to it would be blasphemy of the highest fucking order!”

“Dean,” you sighed, “please behave. You’ve already gotten me to agree to singing again. You don’t need to start a scene with him, too.”

“I should cut off his fucking dick for cheating on you.”

Because you knew Dean, you were concerned they meant it. “Don’t. He did me a favor, helping me realize he wasn’t worth it. Now, did you sign me up for karaoke already, or do I need to do it?”

The grin they flashed you was even more concerning when paired with how much they’d had to drink. “I signed us both up. After you sing your mystery song – yes, you’ll have enough of an intro to figure out what it is and come in on time, they put the lyrics up anyway, you’ll be fine – I’ll blow your performance out of the water with a spectacular rendition of ‘Bang, Bang.’ Your ex won’t know what hit him.”

“I’m sure he won’t,” you said dryly, only to be horrified when your name was called first as karaoke started.

Dean laughed at the glare you threw them. “Go blow them all away with your magical voice, darling!”

“Y/N,” the bar’s owner said into his mic when you stepped up on stage. “It’s been far too long, m’lady! Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in a few months, it’s the lovely Y/N singing ‘Shake It Off’!”

“Really, Dean?” you asked, picking up your mic. “All the songs in the world to choose from and that’s the one you picked for me?” The regulars laughed at your teasing as Dean raised their beer in salute. Almost before you had a moment to collect yourself, the music was off and you could feel your ex studying you from his seat near the back with his new woman draped across him. You shut him out of your mind and focus and launched yourself into the song, determined to have fun even if you weren’t really drunk enough to do a Taylor Swift song for karaoke.

----------

Bucky hadn’t been paying attention to much other than his beer until the karaoke started. Their booth was set up at the perfect spot for watching the stage, and he chided himself for the way his heart jumped when you stepped on stage.

“Really, Dean?” you joked, shooting a look at your friend who did not look like – he? She? Bucky couldn’t tell which – would be interested in hanging out in a bar like this. Then you took a deep breath and wow, your whole demeanor changed as you started singing. It was like the song took over you and you had an entirely different energy about you.

“I go on too many dates, but I can’t make ‘em stay,” you sang, and Bucky watched you work the stage, using the mic stand to your theatrical advantage even as you held the mic in your hand. He’d say you were hamming it up for the crowd, but there was something about your performance that said maybe some of the words were hitting a little too close to home for you to be too flippant with them.

“My ex man brought his new girlfriend,” and he didn’t miss the way your eyes flickered to a couple in the back. “And to the fella over there with the hella good hair, why don’t you come on over baby? We can shake, shake, shake.”

He almost choked on his beer, because he could swear that during that last line you had looked over and winked at him in a very “I’m not a lesbian and I want to climb you like a tree” type way. Bucky’s eyes quickly flickered to Sam to see if the other man caught it, but if he had, he wasn’t giving any indication of it.

It had to have been the performance, right? You were just working the audience. When the song ended, he made sure to applaud, and soon your friend (Dean, the announcer called them) was on stage singing like they were, well, as hammered as they looked.

----------

“Come ooooonnnn,” Dean whined, tugging on your sleeve. “Y/N, they’re in town and they’re in this bar and Thor’s so hot I’m surprised I don’t have a sunburn yet. I can’t talk to them alone. Come flirt with me.”

Your friend wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, so you slammed back the rest of your drink and stood.

“Fine,” you said, “but if you look like you’re going to puke on an Avenger at any point I’m dragging you home.”

“Yay!” they cheered, immediately pulling you over to their table and sliding into the booth next to Thor. “Hello, gentlemen of the Avengers. My name is Dean, I’m genderfluid and pansexual and would gladly climb any of you. This is Y/N and she’s a straight prude but if you give her enough alcohol you might be able to get a nice make-out session with her.”

You groaned and rubbed your face with your hand. “Sorry for my friend here. They passed merely being drunk an hour before karaoke started.”

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Captain America (YOU WERE TALKING TO CAPTAIN AMERICA?!?) said. “I’m Steve, and this is Bucky, Sam, and Thor.”

“Hi, Thor.” Dean batted their eyelashes and you choked back a snerk.

Bucky pushed at Sam and the two slid a little further back in the booth, making space for you to sit next to the soldier. He motioned to the seat and you slid next to him hesitantly.

“Sorry for interrupting your evening,” you apologized quietly, although Dean had long since tuned you out in favor of attempting to seduce the god of thunder. “Dean gets an idea their head and I’m basically stuck along for the ride.”

“It’s no problem,” Sam said smoothly. “I do have one question, though. Are you really straight?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and Bucky thought that might be the nicest sound he’d ever heard. “Yes, I’m really straight. Most people are surprised, but my sense of style wasn’t enough to keep jerks from hitting on me so I got a haircut and fell in love with the style. It’s let me fly under the radar a lot more frequently, which is nice.”

“I can’t imagine how,” Bucky said, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “You’re beautiful.”

Before you could thank him, a voice to your left made you freeze.

“Y/N.”

Dean’s attention was snapped away from Thor and they stared down your ex. “Listen, asshole –”

“Dean.” You held up a finger to stop your friend before they made too much of a scene before entirely turning to your ex. “What do you want, Daniel?”

“It’s free karaoke time,” he crooned, ignoring how unwanted he obviously was. “I thought maybe we could do a duet together, for old time’s sake?”

You affixed him with a glare that would whither a plant. “Why on earth would I want to be reminded of our time together?”

That seemed to shake his confidence a bit. “I’m just being friendly,” he snapped.

“You don’t know how to just be friendly. We’re over, Daniel, so get over it already. If you really wanted me, you wouldn’t have cheated.”

“I believe you heard the lady,” Thor cut in before Daniel could reply. “She wishes for you to leave her alone, and I suggest you abide by her wishes.

For the first time he seemed to notice who you were sitting with, and he sulked off back to his date.

“Well,” Sam broke the silence that had fallen over the table, “I’m guessing that relationship being over is a good thing?”

You nodded. “Thank you,” you told Thor. “I appreciate the support.”

“Anytime, m’lady.”

----------

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bucky asked you softly a few minutes later when you had yet to join the table’s renewed conversation.

You shook your head. “He was a jerk who cheated on me so I got out. It was a long time ago.”

“How could anyone throw away someone like you?”

The earnest way he said it made you blush.

“His loss,” you whispered shyly.

Bucky only paused a moment before asking, “Could I make his loss my gain?”

“I’d like that,” you said with a smile. “I’d like that very much.”

#30 days of avengers one shots #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Winter Soldier #reader #reader insert #portland #portland oregon #hipster #bar #karaoke #taylor swift #language #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #masterlist #i still suck at tagging

[nadineselfships-archived]

I got tagged by @lildreamysoul!!! Thank you frien!! <3 (Also thank you @smoochesforseven for tagging me in it as well, ily moon <3)

1. What’s something you’re looking forward to?

Moving out and going far, far away from where I am now.

2. What’s your dream trip?

My dream trip would be a roadtrip in another country, just going all around the country with someone I love and trust and exploring the culture and the beautiful architect and beautiful country sides. (The country I most want to go to is france, I've wanted to visit france for so, so long and one day i’ll make it happen!!)

3. Since it’s holiday time, what’s a gift you’d like to receive?

I really love homemade gifts and self made cards because they come the heart, I have never bought a birthday or Christmas card because I like to make them myself!! So I would really love to get something someone made specifically for me, no matter it was as long as they made it with me in mind I would cherish it forever!!

4. What’s your favourite thing to wear?

An oversized hoodie, no matter what i wear i have to have a giant hoodie engulfing me. (I love oversized hoodies because they make me feel small and also i can hide my hands or do the thing where you flap your hands real fast and the end of the sleeves- you get it.)

5. What’s one of your goals in life?

To become an artist/animator and have people ship themselves with my oc’s. (I strive to one day make a tv show/webcomic and have people love my characters as much as I love them and I will literally die of happiness if anyone ever wanted to ship themselves with one of my oc’s, when or if that happens I will die happy.)

6. Do you have any reoccurring dreams?

I do but they happen randomly and while they are the same dream (I lucid dream, every dream I have is lucid which is pretty awesome.) I do things differently depending on what I learnt the last time I had the dream and how much I've grown since I had it last. It’s fun to have those dreams because I remember what I did last time and get to compare it to what I did new and the different reactions my new actions caused. (I am very invested in my dreams, I write a lot of them down because dreams just,,, fascinate me I guess.)

7. What’s the best dream you’ve ever had?

O wow I’ve had a lot of great ones, hmmm, I’ve had a few dreams with Papy in them but unfortunately they’ve been the more fuzzier and jumpy dreams so I guess,, the best/my favourite would be one where i’m hanging out with Dean (Winchester) and just talking and flirting and joking around, we were sitting near baby and just enjoying each others company and it was nice to see him relaxed for once. It was one of my favourites.

8. What colour do you think your soul/aura radiates?

What’s a colour that represents a badly broken soul that still remains soft and light and hopeful? I would like to say a mix of purples and pinks, maybe blue as well; I don’t really know but i’m sure. (If you’re someone who can see auras, you are amazing and bls come to my house and tell me what mine looks like; i’ll pay you with love n’ appreciation and some cute doodles.)

9. What’s your most recent favourite song?

!!! All of P!nks new album!!! My favourite from the whole album is Beautiful Trauma or maybe Whatever you Want. Gosh idk the whole album is amazing. (if you haven’t listened to it bls do you will thank me later.)

10. Do you collect anything?

Not really? (Does hoarding everything I draw/make count as collecting something? Because then that.) I tried to collect shells once but I had no where to keep them so that didn’t last long.

11. What’s your favourite joke to tell?

I don’t really have a specific joke I tell?? I just word vomit until someone laughs and then run with whatever funny thing I said. (I love making people laugh and i will constantly try to make jokes, even if they aren't that funny. I also love physical comedy and anything with funny expressions, i use those to my advantage as well.)

My Questions!!

1. If you could be in any video game, what video game would you want to be in?

2. If you had the chance to say one thing to one of your F/o’s, what would you say?

3. If you were given the opportunity to commit any crime and not be punished, what crime would you commit? (theft, murder, etc.)

4. If you could bring any one of your original characters to life which one would it be?

5. What’s your least favourite sound? (Chewing, nails on chalkboard, etc.)

6. If you could be any mythical creature, what one would you be?

7. You are given the choice to learn how everything was created or  learn how the world ends, which do you choose?

8. If you could have a daemon (Like in golden Compass, basically your soul in the form of an animal) what animal would it be/form would it have?

9. You get to make one wish, what is it?

10. Have you ever met someone that has impacted your life in a significant way? (positive or negative.)

11. What’s your favourite way to spend the holidays?

I tag: @alotta-lovin @badchubbybunny @asa-de-ouro @dave-stridorable @kremlikestoselfinsert @selfshipshiba @somecomicsandstuff @metropolitanhighway @selfinsertheaven (aaaa you don’t have to do this if you don’t feel like it!! ^^ I’m not that great at coming up with questions anyway;; )

#Tagged 4 me #aaaa thank you ash!!! #This was fun!! #ily buddy!! #perosnal #i would have tagged a lot more people but i think everyone has been tagged in this ;;; #i tried really hard with my questions so if you feel like answering them then please do!! #i would love to see your answers 0v0 #but ye feel free to ignore this!!! #ily all an hope you're having a great day/night!!

[hsews]

MO BAMBA SITS on the sideline inside the gym at St. Bernard High School in Playa del Rey, California, and stares intently into his phone, which is on selfie mode. He cradles the device between his thighs, watching himself in his digital mirror, as he inserts into his right eye a contact lens. It looks like a tiny droplet on the tip of his enormous right index finger.

On Thursday, Bamba and a class of other top prospects will revel in the pageantry of the NBA draft in Brooklyn, but on the Friday entering Memorial Day weekend, he’s a 20-year-old inside a nondescript school gymnasium with an old-school scoreboard and basic amenities, using an iPhone so he can see clearly.

Bamba, who is 7 feet tall, clocked into the NBA combine last month with a 7-foot-10 wingspan — a combine record — and a standing reach of more than 9 feet, 7 inches, tops among this June’s draft class. He ran a sprint three-quarters the length of the floor in 3.04 seconds, beating times posted by Russell Westbrook and John Wall at previous combines. Out on the floor at St. Bernard, Bamba is the NBA scout’s platonic ideal of a big man — small boulders for shoulders resting atop a taut torso that narrows to a tiny waist, a perfect funnel of a body.

The Texas center won’t be the No. 1 pick. But will he turn into the best player? That’s starting to look like a real question now.

Our experts go pick-by-pick selecting the best prospects in the first round, with everything you need to know about each player.

1 Related

Bamba, contact lens in and iPhone stashed away, joins Drew Hanlen, his primary skills coach, for today’s big-man syllabus. As Bamba unleashes a set of “dream shakes,” finishing with a hook over his right shoulder, Hanlen implores him, “Don’t miss short!” Dream shakes give way to attacks from the midpost, requiring precise footwork and explosion. These are the basic food groups that have defined the big-man diet for decades. Ten minutes in, Bamba glistens with a coat of moisture — a one-on-zero workout at full speed is no picnic.

Before long, Bamba moves away from the paint. He ventures out to the far left corner behind the 3-point line, where he’s fed passes in rapid-fire succession, three basketballs cycling through rotation among Hanlen and his staff. The book on Bamba, based on his one season at Texas, classifies him as an elite rim protector with Defensive Player of the Year potential. Although these glowing defensive reviews have been tempered by some who also regard him as a “raw” offensive player with limited range, he proceeds to drain 12 out of 20 catch-and-shoot 3-pointers. Moments later, he goes 16-for-20 from the right corner.

The remainder of this afternoon workout — he’ll return after supper for a night session — mostly resides along the perimeter. Bamba will dance with Hanlen in a sequence of pick-and-pops. The big man will crane his lanky right arm into a right angle for a series of face-up jumpers off a variety of actions. Though Bamba towers over the court and everyone on it who’s catering to his rapid development, if you squint hard enough, he appears nothing like the project centers of years past whose frame and stature he shares.

This 20-year-old giant on the floor looks like an aspiring NBA guard — which is exactly what Bamba must become if he hopes to meet expectations when he’s chosen in the front end of the lottery Thursday night. And after that, if he hopes to stay on the floor in the NBA.

In order to stay on the floor in the NBA, Mo Bamba knows he’ll need to be able to space the floor. John Weast/Getty Images

WILT CHAMBERLAIN FAMOUSLY said, “Everybody roots for David — nobody roots for Goliath.” But for most of the National Basketball Association’s existence, young Goliath prospects have had it pretty good, whether or not anyone was pulling for them. As noted by David Epstein in “The Sports Gene,” a 7-footer in the United States has approximately a 1-in-6 chance of being an NBA player.

By virtue of their height alone, rangy big guys with expansive wingspans have always tantalized talent scouts, and for good reason. The objective of basketball has always been to insert a leather orb through an iron ring placed 10 feet from the floor. For decades, the reward for draining a shot from long distance was no greater than doing so from close range. Why bother heaving a shot off-balance over an aggressive defender from 15 or 20 feet away, when you can just flick the ball — which most big men can control with a simple grip of the hand — from your perch overlooking the court?

The biggest men on the floor, historically, have controlled the game defensively. And as typically the highest-percentage proposition on the menu of options, they could also dictate its terms offensively. Bill Russell was the cornerstone of basketball’s greatest dynasty, and an elite big man was compulsory for any team with championship aspirations.

If a big man offered even the faintest glint he could grow into one of those pivotal titans, a team would come calling in the lottery. No discernable offensive skill set? Then we’ll just call him a project because you can’t teach the combination of height and hops. And if, lo and behold, he’s Stromile Swift, his wait in the greenroom will not last long.

As recently as the 2010-11 season, some intelligent basketball minds preoccupied themselves with the notion that the Miami Heat‘s chances of winning a championship would be enhanced considerably if they could only sign Erick Dampier, because Chris Bosh — and Zydrunas Ilgauskas and Joel Anthony and Jamaal Magloire — weren’t enough when Udonis Haslem became injured.

But over the past few years, the game has transformed itself into one in which pace, 3-point shooting and playmaking dominate. The most forward-looking teams have decongested their offenses, taking centers from their workspace down on the block and, in many cases, relegating them to the bench. Those who stayed on the floor are now required to switch out on the world’s most lethal point guards and tread water. On offense, they must find a way to be useful away from the basket. And in many cases, if a big man has any hope of getting more than a handful of shots at the rim, it’s because he darted to the top of the floor to set a screen, then dove at full speed. The post-up? It’s the landline of basketball.

The best team in a generation has rarely employed the services of a big man in the most crucial moments of its dynasty, and teams that in the recent past carried five conventional big men now have room for only one — anyone else had better have a 15-footer, at minimum. Unless a big has Rudy Gobert‘s profile, those with limited range need not apply.

This is the disrupted world Mo Bamba enters, a forbidding landscape with nowhere to hide — one that demands learning new tools to survive.

play

2:55

Former Texas standout Mohamed Bamba explains what it was like to train with Joel Embiid and responds to critics who say his game is raw.

IN THE EARLY spring, soon after he arrives in Los Angeles to begin his immersive pre-draft training, Bamba sits inside a conference room at Hanlen’s condominium complex, not far from St. Bernard. The task today is to identify impact NBA big men and the qualities Bamba admires about them. Among the names and features scrawled on the whiteboard in dry-erase ink are Nikola Jokic (footwork, shot fake), Anthony Davis (handle, ability to create), Karl-Anthony Towns (shooting, hook shot) and Draymond Green (decision-making, passing).

Bamba is prompted to identify some assets of his — physical play, post work, screening, swag — and boil the list down to three primary items that would be the focal points of the next two months. His finalists, in descending order: shooting, mid-post and low-post work, and mobility.

A few months later, in late May, when Bamba is asked about his aspirations, he speaks in general and ambitious terms common among highly touted prospects — being a top-flight professional at his position, winning championships, induction at Springfield. But he’s also quite specific about the most immediate goal, one that’s proved to be an increasing challenge to even the most capable centers in the NBA.

“I want to put myself in the best position to stay out on the floor,” Bamba says. “There’s a reason why a lot of bigs aren’t on the floor [at the end of games]. They can’t guard those smalls. They can’t shoot.”

The prior night, Bamba had watched Game 5 of the Western Conference finals between Golden State and Houston. The game is a defensive struggle, and Bamba had noted Clint Capela, a big man whom he admires and shares commonalities with physically, didn’t play in the pivotal final six minutes despite scoring 12 points (5-for-6 shooting), gobbling up 14 rebounds and rejecting two shots.

Bamba says he appreciates the Warriors’ small-ball game, how it’s influenced basketball and, most important, the demands it places on anyone — particularly big men — who want to be a member of any future “lineup of death.”

“When Golden State goes small, having those skills can separate me and allow me to stay on the floor,” Bamba says, firing up a video file titled “Mo Switchability and PNR Defense.” “That’s why shooting is at the top of that list, because spacing the floor is so important. It’s how you stay on the floor.”

play

1:22

Bomani Jones and Pablo Torre weigh in on where Mo Bamba could land in the NBA draft after seeing the former Texas forward’s recent workout.

BAMBA’S SHORT-TERM rental apartment in Marina del Rey is decidedly adult in accoutrements and mood. A large, 4-foot-tall chalkboard drawing of the New York City subway system — Bamba is from Harlem — hangs on the wall. A chess board sits on the coffee table, the ongoing game with an associate paused for a bit. Shoeboxes are stacked neatly in a three-box-by-seven-box wall to the left of the television.

From the couch, Bamba watches himself on the living-room TV launch jumpers from the perimeter, another in the series of video clips anywhere in length between 20 seconds to three minutes assembled for him by Hanlen’s lead videographer. He’s immediately drawn to his mechanics, specifically the alignment of the right side of his body as he moves into his stroke.

“Think of it as a line that connects three dots,” he says while tracing that line with his left index finger. “Your hip, to your armpit, to your elbow. Ideally, this should be a 90-degree angle. I have long arms, so it’s hard.”

Bamba motions back to the screen and a paused image of him releasing a top-of-the-arc jumper in his burnt-orange Longhorns jersey in a game at TCU. A large graphic appears at the bottom of the screen — a timer that starts from 0.00 — as he catches the ball. The video resumes and the clock times Bamba’s shot, which falls through the net, at 0.93 seconds.

“There’s a reason why a lot of bigs aren’t on the floor. They can’t guard those smalls. They can’t shoot.”

Mo Bamba

“You see how far back it is?” Bamba asks, examining the angle of his upper arm. “I was shooting at 122 degrees. It’s way up here. It might go in, but it takes longer and doesn’t go in as softly.”

The Texas clip flows into footage from a more recent workout at St. Bernard, where Bamba stands at the identical spot at the top of the floor, fed by one of Hanlen’s guys. This time, Bamba clocks in at 0.75 seconds.

“Look where I’m releasing,” Bamba says. “Now it’s about 105 degrees — not 90, but it’s a lot better. Those degrees speaks volumes.”

It’s not as if big men from past years didn’t work on their mechanics. Plenty of lore exists of Shaquille O’Neal, Dwight Howard and DeAndre Jordan practicing free throws ad nauseam. But the proportion of time devoted by Bamba and his coaching and training staff to the science of shooting represents a profound departure from even 10 years ago.

Clip after clip: Bamba shooting 20 shots from the right corner; Bamba playing pick-and-pop with Hanlen from well beyond the arc on the left side, then the right side; Bamba brandishing a jab step that might prompt Carmelo Anthony to nod in approval, then skipping baseline for a jumper; Bamba creating separation to step back for turnaround 17-footers.

Yes, there are some classics of the low-post genre and a few rip-and-drives on the clips of his greatest, but Bamba’s level of absorption isn’t so intense as when he’s charting his improvement from distance. Those are old standards — Bamba knows them, can trot them out when asked to. But those low-post moves are essentially off-menu items in today’s NBA: available if ordered, but rarely requested.

Bamba is entering a league where the game has changed dramatically for big men. Scott Winters/Icon Sportswire

BAMBA IS SWITCHING gears with the hum of a German transmission. We’re still watching the “Mo Switchability and PNR Defense” clip, and the Longhorns are battling 16th-ranked TCU. The Horned Frogs move instantly into a high pick-and-roll. Texas’ typical coverage calls for the big man guarding the screener to corral the ball handler once he bursts off the pick.

Over the past few years, the NBA has experienced a defensive revolution that, not unlike the shifts in offensive strategy, requires big men to hold their own while covering speedy guards with nasty crossovers and outrageous speed. Bamba might be the best rim protector in the draft class, but these days interior defense composes only one portion of a big man’s overall grade as a defender.

But on this play, Longhorns guard Matt Coleman gets taken out of the play by the screener, leaving Bamba with the responsibility to pick up the guard, Alex Robinson. It’s a non-starter for Robinson, who knows better and kicks the ball out to the perimeter. Now TCU tries the second side — another pick-and-roll snuffed out by Bamba on the switch.

“A lot of things we do in [physical therapy] address mobility, because opening up the hips will allow me to guard those smalls.”

Mo Bamba

So back it goes to the first side, into the hands of Jaylen Fisher out on the perimeter. Fisher feeds Ahmed Hamdy-Mohamed, who’s situated deep in the lane. But Bamba, now guarding his third man of the possession, swoops in from the perimeter, where he’s still on Williams, and swats Mohamed’s point-blank shot away with his left hand.

The next clip shows Bamba on an island against Robinson, who waves off a screen. He wittingly wants Bamba one-on-one with the shot clock winding down.

“Whenever I guard a guard, I don’t want to reach too much, but I will poke at the ball once to get him thinking,” Bamba says, watching himself and Robinson face off like a couple of samurai, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Much of Bamba’s comfort defending on the perimeter resides in good instincts, but the secret ingredient for any big man who excels defending a mismatch is biomechanical. “I knew he preferred not to shoot the ball, but dribble. He attacks as soon as I bring my left leg forward. But I backed off. As an offensive player, you want to attack the foot that’s up so you can get the defender to turn his hips. But I don’t think he knew I could cover ground that quickly. He tried to finish with his left hand, but I met him quick.”

Bamba rejects Robinson’s layup attempt, which caroms off the glass and into the hands of a Longhorns teammate, who ignites the break. A triumph of length, but also of a less-tangible skill Bamba is spending a ton of time honing.

An elite rim protector, Bamba can use his enormous wingspan against guards on the perimeter, too. Chris Covatta/Getty Images

“IT’S ABOUT HOW you turn things on and off in an instant,” says Rory Cordial, who is Bamba’s physical therapist and performance coach. “If you’re facing Step Curry in that situation, you can’t be tight or tense. You need to be loose and free so you can respond to the situation. He’s working on the ability to drop down and play from a lower position.”

Just as Bamba might attempt 100 3-pointers in a given day to build the confidence to shoot from the perimeter, he’ll perform all kinds of exercises in an effort to gain the same level of poise when the Warriors, Rockets, Thunder and Trail Blazers draw him in a switch against the most dangerous point guards alive. In his sessions with Cordial, Bamba spends a fair amount of time in the plank position, what yogis call “the top of a pushup” and what Bamba says is “good for you … in a take-your-medicine type of way.”

Cordial will have Bamba hold himself in a plank position, then lower and immediately pop back up — not so much a pushup, but an explosive burst while maintaining the integrity of his position. It’s the “off and on” capacity Cordial mentioned.

“When you talk about moving like the little guys, it’s starting to use that strength and power he’s developing, where he can impulse his force,” Cordial says. “He can be rigid and strong to resist in the post, but then let go in an instant and spin off, let his body move.”

Get ready for Deandre Ayton, Luka Doncic, Trae Young and more top prospects.

• Full NBA mock draft • Scouting the likely lottery picks • Top 100 rankings • Watch: Scouting videos • Rookie fantasy expectations • Draft assets for every team

Then there are the hips, which unlock it all for a big man — the mobility, the switchability, and any number of tasks associated with the kind of versatility the game now necessitates. The burning questions for Bamba are how much motion does he have in his hips, how deep can he squat, what kind of flexibility and stretch does he have? Most important might be: How can a big man control that range of motion?

Among the stunts Bamba is subjected to: bungee training. A belt will be wrapped around Bamba’s waist, with a trainer holding the cord, which looks like a long leash. Bamba will resist the movement, or be pulled into it as if he’s facing off against Curry and his ungodly crossover. Suddenly, Bamba will feel a quick tug, forcing him to work against that additional resistance.

When you watch Al Horford, one of the best perimeter-defending big men ever, or 6-foot-11 Giannis Antetokounmpo face off against an opposing point guard, you’re watching guys who are engaged in a very specific exercise: the complete control of their movements faster than a Westbrook can explode, faster than a Curry can cross over. Nobody ever suggests that Horford or Antetokounmpo take a seat when the outcome of a game is in the balance. But it isn’t their length or their shot-blocking potential or interior D. It’s the hips and the unshakable confidence that those hips will follow orders.

“You want to work ahead of it,” Bamba says. “That’s why a lot of things we do in [physical therapy] address mobility, because opening up the hips will allow me to guard those smalls. Without the mobility, you don’t stay on the floor. And I want to be on the floor.”

play

0:59

Mohamed Bamba packs and flies from Atlanta to New York, as he returns home for the NBA draft.

IN THE 2004-05 NBA season, 32 players who were classified as centers played more than 1,000 minutes. This past season, that number was down to 23. The success of the Warriors, the rise of the 3-point shot and, more recently, the prevalence of switching defenses have rendered less-skilled and less-mobile big men a liability.

This hasn’t deterred the scouting department of NBA teams from being wowed by Bamba’s class of incoming bigs. Front offices clearly aren’t subscribing to the belief that such players are expendable. Five of the first six prospects projected to be selected in ESPN’s mock draft are classified as centers or center/forwards.

A primary reason? The prospects have witnessed their slightly older counterparts in the league waving towels from the sidelines in the fourth quarter. They see that those who aren’t are Joel Embiid and Horford — multifaceted bigs with a guard’s tools. They’ve been told by agents and workout gurus that millions upon millions of dollars rest on their capacity to space the floor for coaches who are trying to build an offense that can compete with Golden State and Houston.

Accordingly, Mo Bamba will continue to chart the angle of the crook of his elbow, and time the duration of his release. He’ll be yanked by bungee cords and held in plank positions for what seems like days. He’ll treat his hip flexors like a prodigy pianist cares for his fingers, because the nastiest crossover dribbles, the likes of which he’s never seen, await him in October.

And more than anything, he’ll push back on the idea that he’s the last of an endangered species.

“I don’t believe in the big-man crisis and big-man problem,” Bamba says. He’s finished his Chipotle and is eager to get back to the chess board, where he’s gained a significant advantage over his opponent by virtue of his last move, before heading back to Hanlen’s gym for what promises to be a grueling night session. “The game I play and the game I’m working toward, that problem really doesn’t exist for me.”

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[brandbaskets]

New Post has been published on https://brandbaskets.in/apple-throws-a-lifeline-to-a-parent-drowning-in-digital-screen-time/

Apple throws a lifeline to a parent drowning in digital screen time

When my 4-year-old daughter told me she couldn’t get into bed without her “phone,” I knew it was time to rethink my own phone habits.

Of course, she doesn’t have a real phone. It’s a plastic pink phone that came in a purple purse, with fake lipstick, a compact and fake car keys. It’s a toy designed for imaginative play while she role plays being mommy. And since my daughter, Margot, has Down syndrome, which comes with some developmental and language delays, seeing her use such a toy appropriately felt like a small victory.

That is, until I realized what she was role playing was me being totally obsessed with my phone.

Is this really how she sees me?

Digital addiction experts warn parents about modeling healthy smartphone and internet usage habits. 

Valery Sharifulin

I doubt I’m alone in this scenario. Heck, I’m probably hitting that average of checking my phone 47 times a day, according to gadget reseller site Bank My Cell. That’s 17,155 times a year. Throw in a job that compels me to constantly be on Slack and Gmail — even while in the parking lot of my kids’ preschool — and a tendency to indulge in mindless Facebook scrolling and Twitter rabbit-holing, and I probably spend more time with a screen in my face than I would like to admit.

Still, I need to do better, especially the part about doing this all in front of my two preschoolers.

“The minute your kid is born you should be concerned about how exposure to technology will affect them,” said David Greenfield, an assistant clinical professor of psychiatry at the University of Connecticut School of Medicine and author of the book Virtual Addiction, which warned of the dangers of tech addiction almost 20 years ago. “The main thing to think about is your own use of technology and what you’re modeling for your kids.”

This is where Apple and other tech companies, like Google, say they’re trying to help. On Monday, at its World Wide Developer Conference in San Jose, California, Apple unveiled new features in iOS 12, the latest version of its mobile software, that let users monitor how much time they spend on their device and applications such as Facebook or Instagram.

The new iOS features come as Apple faces backlash from investors and users over concerns about phone addiction among children. Two of Apple’s major shareholders published an open letter in January that asked Apple to take a socially responsible approach toward children’s device use. It cited concerns about mental health problems and other issues that come from heavy phone use. The announcements on Monday mark Apple making good on a vow to better allow us to manage our device usage.

The new features give insight into how you use your Apple devices, offering breakdowns of how often you’re picking up your phone and which apps are sending you the most notifications. The software also lets you track how much time you’re spending on your phone and which apps you’re using the most. You can also set a limit on how much you use your phone, which will cut you off when you’ve reached it. It’s kind of like a Weight Watchers app for a digital diet.

A good first step

Parents will particularly appreciate a new tool called “Screen Time,” which offers a summary of how much time kids are using their devices and how much time is spent on which apps. They can access a feature called “Downtime” that allows them to go app by app and cut off access entirely or set time limits by day on how much a given app can be used.

They can also permanently white-list some apps, such as an app that’s used for school. When kids are getting close to reaching a parent’s specified time limit for access, they get screen warnings and the icon eventually is greyed out if time has been exceeded or the app is blocked. Kids can ask for permission to have their limit extended, and parents can remotely grant access.

Charles Penner, a partner at Jana Partners, one of the investors who pushed Apple to address this issue, said Apple’s efforts are a “fantastic start” and the company “has shown real commitment and leadership” in addressing the concerns.  He said the biggest benefits will come from the new parental controls that will help better protect children “whose brains are still developing.”

“Think about future generations who grow up only using social media a small amount each day because that’s what they got used to as kids,” he said in an email. “Parents have a whole new array of options for engaging with their kids about their digital habits, which should be incredibly impactful for society in the long term.”  

Tackling addiction head-on

Addiction experts like Greenfield and Nicholas Kardaras, a psychologist specializing in digital addiction and author of Glow Kids: How Screen Addiction is Hijacking Our Kids, say making people aware of their usage is certainly a good start and setting limits for kids is important.

But they’d like to see the industry get more proactive in educating the public about the dangers of tech addiction and funding research on the effects of technology overuse. They’d also like to see companies hiring consultants in this field to help them make their products and services less addictive.

“These companies make billions in profit each year,” Greenfield said. “I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect them to put a fraction of that into making sure the technology they’re developing isn’t hurting people.”

Apple declined to comment.

They agree kids are the most vulnerable to the negative effects. And while they commend Apple for giving parents better tools to limit use, they say the best protection is for parents to delay access to any kind of screen for as long as possible.

That means even pushing back against schools that are increasingly using tablets and laptops in the classroom. Even so-called educational apps can be overstimulating for little brains and can lead to harmful effects, like attention disorders, they say.

“Parents have been conned into thinking that kids need exposure to technology early or they’ll fall behind,” Kardaras said. “It’s just not true. Our schools are becoming digital drug dealers.”

I know how most parents reading this will take this advice. It’s a nice idea but impossible in practice, right? Screens are literally everywhere.

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Digital discipline

Before you go labeling me as one of “those moms,” let me set the record straight. I’m no helicopter parent. I don’t hover on the playground or micromanage my kids’ playdates. My children have had all their vaccines. We eat gluten. I’m too cheap to buy organic. When my kids play in the backyard, I spray them with real bug spray — the kind with deet.

Suffice to say, I don’t buy into a lot of the extreme parenting trends of my generation. But when it comes to technology and the effects of overuse, I’m concerned.

Apparently, I’m in good company, as several former and current tech giants, like Bill Gates, Steve Jobs and Tim Cook have all talked publicly about how they’ve limited tech for their children and loved ones. And then there are private schools where bigwigs in Silicon Valley send their kids, like the Waldorf School of the Peninsula, in Los Altos, California, where elementary age students use chalkboards and No. 2 pencils. Screen-based devices aren’t introduced until kids reach eighth grade, according to a recent Business Insider feature article.

I’m convinced. The best way for me to prevent my kids from becoming slaves to screens is to curb my own compulsions. So sign me up, Apple. Let’s do this. I’m ready for my digital diet.

CNET’s Shara Tibken contributed to this report.

iOS 12: Siri shortcuts, group FaceTime and “Memoji” — Animoji of you.

WWDC 2018: Everything Apple just announced.

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[junker-town]

The Top Whatever: Ranking college football teams after everything went all non-Alabama

The Top Whatever is a weekly ranking of only the college football teams that really need to be ranked at the moment. If you’re looking for the polls, those will be over here.

1. Alabama.

A boring, crushing, pleasantly consistent, 41-9 win over Arkansas.

Tell everyone who tried to find a different No. 1 team: welcome back. We tried to find others. How’d that work out? Did the Tide not process everyone like so much meat falling into the grinder? Did they not render almost every game a tedious scrimmage after the first 15 minutes?

Did that OTHER TEAM — maybe one you chose instead of Alabama as the nation’s best team — do something really stupid, like lose to Syracuse? On a Friday, no less? Did that OTHER TEAM go to Tempe and make a few late-night mistakes? (To be fair: Tempe is made for mistakes.) Did that OTHER TEAM, which seemed so much shinier and more interesting, score three points in a blowout at Cal? Did the diamond in the rough do something drastic, like losing to an underachieving Boise State?

They probably did. Everyone learned a few old lessons in Week 7.

Alabama remains the least entertaining and steadiest bet because of their bottomless depth chart and their ability to run the ball, pass just enough to win, and reduce whatever the opposing team is attempting to do to ashes by the second quarter.

Coming off a disappointing performance against Texas A&M, the Tide were the surest bet in the college football universe to win a blowout. This is mostly because Nick Saban undoubtedly made life for everyone around him a living hell this week, right down to his 8,827 coach-strong consultancy watching film until their eyes bled.

It’s cute to consider other teams, even if Alabama might — might — be beatable with a perfect storm. The offense remains largely one-dimensional and dependent on the run. The defense, like all defenses, can be broken down by a mobile quarterback having an insanely good game. The Tide fumbled two punts against Arkansas, something Saban mentioned in his postgame presser, because of course Saban mentioned that in his postgame presser.

They’re beatable, but they won’t do things to embarrass you. They won’t call you from jail in Syracuse, talking about how they lost a barfight with a giant orange. They won’t have a crazy story about losing your debit card in a bar in Arizona. (Those charges afterward are going to be weird.) They won’t lose to Cal. Alabama might do a lot of things in 2017, but dammit, we swear this: they won’t embarrass you by losing to Cal.

2. Georgia.

Won a rollicking, 53-28 matchup with Mizzou. That may look like a lot of points to give up to Missouri, but remember that playing the Tigers in 2017 is a lot like facing a button-masher in a fighting video game. They don’t know what they’re doing, everything good that happens is an accident, and after an initial flurry, they will collapse.

At 7-0, there are few mysteries about Georgia. They play brilliant defense. Their finesse/speed back, Sony Michel, hit poor DeMarkus Acy so hard, his feelings should have been hurt. When your speed back is doing things like that, you are in a rare, rare space as a football team.

When Georgia’s gone 7-0 before, it meant SEC titles at least, and in one modern case — the hallowed 1980 season — it meant a national championship. There is no snide joke about inevitably losing to Florida or Alabama here. I’ve been preparing my soul for the real possibility of consistently good Georgia football for several months now. For your own protection, I suggest you do the same.

3. TCU.

A 26-7 win over Kansas State. The Frogs continue to be whatever they have to be. Kansas State wanted to dominate possession, so TCU shut down the K-State run game, especially in short-yardage situations K-State has long dominated. From there, it was a matter of Kenny Hill being efficient, the Horned Frogs’ defense putting pressure on a backup quarterback, and the defense carrying the team.

And if the circumstances are reversed next week against Kansas — indulge the fantasy for a moment, okay — then TCU can probably still win, because they remain one of the few real complete teams. The offense can be efficient or explosive as needed, and the defense can apply pressure or fall back in coverage.

TCU is not the most talented team in the nation, and that might not matter at all because they are the most flexible. Flexible is hard to beat: just when you think you have one thing covered, TCU reaches an inch further than you can and creates a whole new problem just out of your reach. (Also: Kenny Hill, efficient quarterback! 2017 is stranger than we could have predicted.)

4. Miami.

A 25-24 thriller over Georgia Tech. Miami may or may not be a very good team overall, but I feel confident saying this:

The best team in the nation in the last two minutes of a game in 2017 might be Miami.

The absolute best team in the nation in the last 30 seconds of a football game is Miami.

The best receiver in the nation in the last 30 seconds of a football game is Miami’s Darrell Langham.

If you want to beat Miami, it’s probably best to have a large lead before the last two minutes of a football game. We recommend like, three touchdowns or so, just to be safe.

Also, the Canes beat a mean-ass Georgia Tech team custom-built for the letdown game Miami was supposed to have after beating Florida State. That’s no small accomplishment, especially since Miami politely handed Tech a touchdown on a failed surprise onside kick attempt.

This ended up being completely worth it since it broke commentator/perpetually terrified risk-phobe Rod Gilmore’s brain for the remainder of the game. If Rod Gilmore called the X Games, he would die screaming sometime in the second hour. “WHY WOULD YOU GO UPSIDE DOWN, EVER? WHY? IT’S TOO DANGEROUSSSSSSS—”

5. Wisconsin.

Beat Purdue, 17-9, a victory that is worth more than it used to be, via Purdue being interesting and good now. Wisconsin will probably win the West. Then, they will clean out the remainder of their schedule and step bravely into the ring in Indianapolis to take a 30-point loss from whatever monster roars in from the Big Ten East.

And that’s fine, because remember: Wisconsin will probably finish with a lovely, fat bowl junket to enjoy, and their former coach, Gary Andersen, just gave up $12 million so he could leave Corvallis, Oregon. Context is everything.

6. USF.

Defeated Cincinnati 33-3. The Department of Zero Sum Thinking would like to point out that, given the sludge remaining on the schedule, the Bulls should launch a PR campaign to pump up the reputation of the UCF Knights. UCF is the only remaining team of quality on the Bulls’ schedule, and USF needs to do everything it can to make that look like a Playoff play-in game.

We recommend targeting gullible voters and influencers with fake articles on Facebook in order to boost the reputation of the American Athletic Conference. Please click to share “TULSA BEATS BAMA 56-0” and “NAVY SINKS OHIO STATE 45-2 AT HOME” with all of your online friends. It’s worked before.

7. UCF.

Torched a hapless ECU team, 63-21. Like USF, there’s not much left on the schedule. However, whatever is left will be burned to the foundation, because UCF had 33 first downs yesterday, will probably have 30 first downs in every game moving forward, has a top-five yardage offense, and is hoarding the allotment of offensive touchdowns granted to the entire state of Florida. A terrifying team to face right now, and one that will probably blow up someone up in a major bowl game.

WISELY AVOIDED PLAYING FOOTBALL THIS WEEK

Penn State. Please remember that the Top Whatever ranks only the teams that played this week. The Nittany Lions are a Playoff-quality team at this point and can hammer that point home against a punchless Michigan squad that destroyed them in their last meeting. Will someone email me about this, failing to read all the way down or understand the concept? YOU BET THEY WILL, READER.

SOME OF THE ONE-LOSS TEAMS I’LL PROBABLY START PEPPERING IN NEXT WEEK, WHEN AND IF I FEEL LIKE IT, PRESENTED IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER

Ohio State. J.T. Barrett threw five TDs in a single game against Nebraska. Yes, that’s legal now.

Oklahoma. Baker Mayfield flew off the field after a win over Texas wearing a golden cowboy hat and riding an invisible horse. This sentence is literal, and we are making nothing up.

Baker Mayfield waited patiently for possession of the golden hat…and then galloped off the field at the Cotton Bowl on an imaginary horse. http://pic.twitter.com/pz0viRbPkJ

— George Schroeder (@GeorgeSchroeder) October 15, 2017

NC State. We’re just as shocked as you are, okay?

Clemson. Injuries piling up really shouldn’t relegate them to the B-pile just yet. Also, and we say this with all sincerity: Syracuse was due to kneecap someone, and Clemson walked in at exactly the wrong moment.

Michigan State. [gestures at undefeated record in Big Ten, waves hands, shrugs, walks away from chalkboard dotted with inscrutable equations, shaking head]

Michigan. Starting to think overleveraging a team’s futures on the market based mostly on a blowout of an impotent Florida might have been a bad idea.

Notre Dame. Starting to think shorting a team’s futures on the market based mostly on a narrow loss to a really good Georgia might have been a bad idea.

USC. Sam Darnold didn’t throw an interception against Utah despite throwing the ball 50 times. Darnold threw 9 INTs for the entire 2016 season; he’s thrown nine in 2017. This is what an optimist would take away from this: Apparently Darnold just gets nine INTs in a season, can budget them however he likes, and got them all out of the way early this year. He did fumble twice and lose another off a teammate’s facemask, however.

Washington. It will be so hard to justify putting them in a Playoff, given the weakness of that schedule, and their losing in the exact, excruciating way they lost to Arizona State. Plus their rivalry game got a lot less lustrous rankings-wise, thanks to Wazzu completely befouling their bed at Cal. WASHINGTON STATE TRANSITIVELY RUINING YOUR SEASON, HUSKIES! Even their losses spite you.

Kentucky. If you got this far down in the column, congratulations on paying attention and realizing that Kentucky is 5-1, and would be 6-0, if they had decided to cover two Florida receivers. We’re probably not going to rank them just yet, but thank you for reading this far. The best easter eggs are the ones you don’t have to make up.

[beverlymunoz]

Profile of a Possible Savior: King Rice

Can King David slay the blueblood giants?

Several intrepid BTP message board posters have put forth the argument that to be like the bluebloods, you need a blueblood at the helm. Roy Williams' coaching tree is surprisingly thin, and Coach K's protégés have had uneven success. But what about the Great Schnozz, Dean Smith? Dean's coaching tree includes the likes of Ol' Roy, Larry Brown, and George Karl, among many others. There's a lot of gross in that last sentence, but you can't argue that they've won a lot of basketball games.

Smith's former floor general, King David Rice, is taking an anything but storied Monmouth program to new heights, and, unlike the names above, Rice is not 106 years old. The former Tar Heel point guard is an up and comer, and it's just a matter of time before he's hired for a higher profile position.

Important Questions, In Rough Order Of Importance:

1. Has he coached teams that have won a national title, made multiple deep NCAA tournament runs, and/or consistently been highly ranked?

Well, no. Rice is in his sixth season at Monmouth, which is coming off a program record 28-win season but has not yet reached the NCAAs or been ranked under his leadership. The program has NEVER been ranked, in fact, but currently sits in vaunted "others receiving votes" territory in the AP poll. The Hawks are 23-5 and have a four-game lead in the MAAC standings this year but will probably need to avoid another slip up in the conference tournament to ensure a bid. That 51st ranking in RPI is impressive for a team from a lower tier conference, but it probably won't make for an at-large bid.

Of course as a player Rice went to the NCAA tournament in each of his seasons running Smith's offense, including a Final Four trip in his senior season, 1991, and never failed to make the Sweet 16.

2. Has he built a program from the ground up?

Absolutely, though it took some time. Rice took over a program that had posted a losing record for five consecutive seasons. It took him until his fourth season to post a winning record, but in the past two years the team is 51-13.

3. Has he substantially improved the program from when he took over?

In Monmouth's 34-year history, only once did it lose fewer than 10 games in a season before Rice took over. The Hawks should do so for a second consecutive season this year. Monmouth has made the Dance four times but never won a game save for one of those play-in deals against Hampton; if Rice can get in this year and pull off an upset, they'll probably erect a statue in picturesque West Long Branch, NJ. And winning a tourney game isn't such a stretch when you consider that Rice knocked off a ranked Notre Dame squad last year (not to mention UCLA, USC-West, Georgetown, and Rutgers). Princeton is the team's lone RPI top 100 win this season, but they did take Frank Martin's USC-East squad to overtime. Monmouth beating genuinely solid basketball programs simply did not happen pre-Rice.

4. Has he succeeded at more than one head coaching job?

Monmouth is Rice's lone head-coaching gig thus far unless you count a three-year stint as head man of the Bahamian National Team. (I didn't make that up.)

5. Does he have significant high-major experience as either a head coach or an assistant?

Rice had a brief stint as an assistant at Oregon and Providence but most of his assisting has come under the tutelage of Kevin Stallings at both Illinois State and Vanderbilt. Vandy made the dance in four of his six seasons as Stallings' assistant, but Stallings is perhaps the lone coach in the ACC I'd take Mark Gottfried over, so I'm not sure this is a big positive.

6. Is his team one of the best in its conference right now?

The Hawks are by far the class of the MAAC, ranking 86th (which is 22 spots ahead of NC State) in KenPom Land. Iona is second in the league at 115th. They were a top 100 team last year as well, finishing 95th. They'll win the MAAC regular season title for a second straight season this year.

7. Do his teams actually play, what is this thing called, "defense"?

The MAAC is such a far cry from the ACC that it's hard to say what kind of team he might put on the floor at NC State, but the metrics aren't overly kind in this regard from a national standpoint. The Hawks were a pretty solid (considering the adjustment for competition) 68th in this regard overall last year, which was first in the MAAC by a good margin. They've slipped to 98th this year, but that's still second only to St. Peter's in their league. Could we then project that a Rice-coached Pack would be a top two defense in the ACC? Ha. Nope. But his dominating results against like competition at least suggest that he has a philosophy that goes beyond "They got to guard us too, pal."

Monmouth used a matchup zone defense pre-Rice, who prefers an attacking man-to-man. His current squad ranks 60th in the NCAA in block percentage and 100th in steal rate, so they create a good bit more havoc than NC State which ranks 102nd and 301st in those measures. Monmouth is impressive in field goal defense, where they hold opponents to a 47.1 eFG%, good for 47th in the country, but that's coming against some truly anemic offenses. The Hawks are tied for 114th in total rebounding percentage (51.1), so Rice hasn't exactly been able to replicate UNC's kill everyone on the boards philosophy. There's nowhere to go but up here for NC State, but nothing in Rice's brief tenure so far confidently suggests that he would bring a top 25 defense to Raleigh.

8. So how about offense?

The offense mirrors the defense for Monmouth this year; the Hawks are 99th in KenPom. Hey howabout that for consistency: 99th in offense and 98th in defense. Breaking in to the top 100 is a first for Rice, as his team was just 131st in their breakout, 28-win season a year ago.

Though his defenses have been a little ahead of his offenses—and that is somewhat encouraging as an undermanned team in the ACC, which State will likely be after a coaching transition, will likely need to hang its hat on defense to compete until the roster improves—Rice's offenses probably hold the most long-term promise. He wants to run like his Heels did and do, and encourages his players to get a shot up within the first five seconds of the shot clock if a good shot is available. Stallings (kind of the balding, non-philandering version of Gott as a one-dimensional, offense-first coach) typically has efficient, fast-paced offenses, and Rice of course learned from both Stallings and Smith's high-octane teams. With the right players, a Rice-coached Pack could put on a show.

9. Any indication that he can recruit McDonald's All-American-type players?

Rice was a Burger Boy himself and, as a native New Yorker and New Jersey coach, has ties to the NYC pipeline that's been very good to NC State in the past, though, interestingly, the team's most highly-touted recruits all hail from Texas. He's only pulled in one guy, Je'Lon Hornbeak, who garnered four stars from any recruiting site (Rivals), and he was a transfer from Oklahoma. Pierre Sarr and Micah Seaborn were consensus three-star recruits. All three are from the Lone Star State.

We're talking Monmouth here. It's impressive if he has anyone that even garnered a ranking. With that UNC pedigree and relative youthfulness—Rice is just 48—I think he would be a successful recruiter. Really, recruiting hasn't been NC State's problem. It's what the coaches have done (or failed to do) with said recruits that's at issue.

10. Does he have any connection to NC State, North Carolina, or the ACC?

He played for UNC.

11. Any other random red flags or positives?

Rice was arrested for assaulting his girlfriend while at UNC and readily admits that his preference for partying over basketball as a Tar Heel cost him any chance for a professional career as a player. He very well could've lost his coaching career when he was arrested for DUI while serving as Stallings' assistant at SIU. But, to his credit, Rice got his shit together. He entered a rehab facility after the DUI and is now 17 years sober. (As a raging alcoholic myself, that is pretty impressive. Good on ya, King.)

Rice regularly welcomes "at-risk" youth to Monmouth and volunteers for speaking engagements to share his personal experience of coming from nothing—his father never learned to read and his large family was supported solely from his mom's income as a secretary—and rising out of that situation only to nearly throw it away due to substance abuse. Rice, who I must say I loathed as much as any Tar Heel ever when he was in the powder blue, genuinely seems to have matured into a decent human who wants to make a difference in the lives of his players and in his community. Rice and former teammate Rick Fox even started a foundation to mentor kids and provide them with scholarships (though it appears said non-profit is now out of existence).

Of course we would be remiss not to mention that, as a UNC player, Rice was (allegedly) part of a system of academic fraud designed to keep athletes eligible to play sports ball. I suppose his time predates the scope of the allegations, but do we really for one second think that he and his teammates weren't "schooling" on an uneven playing, uh, chalkboard? And do we care if we win and don't get caught (or punished too harshly)?

Summary:

Would he be better than Gottfried?

This questions makes it hard, so hard, not to be cruel. Fuckin' A, man. Day-old leftover lo mein would be better than Gott at this point. But if we harken back to feel-good Gott of the original Sweet 16 run, then who knows. Rice is a lottery ticket and most of those don't scratch the way you want them too, but a middle school coach in Russia (or Bahamian National Team coach) is a step up from Gott at this moment in time. I'd wager that he might not make the Dance four times in six years but that the program would be on an upward swing in year six if he was given the time and patience from the fan base and administration to build something.

OK, so what is his ceiling?

I'm given pause by how long it took him to turn Monmouth around. Can WPN wait until year five to be really good? Can WPN wait until year four simply not to suck? But if Rice could speed that mess up a little this time, he might find himself being uniquely positioned as the hot thing in the ACC as oldass rivals like Ol' Roy, K, Yankee Nose Picker, and Slick Rick Pitino die of heart attacks on the sidelines. If things break right, forget the ceiling; the sky's the limit. (But you could say the same about just about everyone not named Weber thus far profiled in the POAPS).

Would he take the job if offered?

From my 12-second effort on Google, it would appear that Rice is making a base salary in the six-figure range. We're talking way closer to five figures than seven. My guess is that he doesn't feel confident UNC is going to call on him when Roy mercifully dies, and that it would be impossible to turn down increasing your salary by, oh, about 10 times its current rate. I'd go to Afghanistan for a couple million a year, especially if it means getting the hell out of Jersey. The ACC is > Afghanistan. Seems like a no-brainer for a guy that I think wouldn't be scared away by the media perception of NC State as a terrible career move.

How would I feel if he were hired?

Conflicted. I could most likely swallow enough June-Aid to convince myself that the "if you want to be a blueblood, you need a blueblood" argument is legit, despite the evidence that stands to the contrary. (Matt Doherty, anyone?) There's also the pesky fact that Rice played at UNC for Chrissakes. But you cannot deny that the man has done more at Monmouth than anyone else, including beating teams Gottfried couldn't beat these days, and Rice has done so without the advantage of actual ACC talent. I have an open mind.

How would the fan base as a whole feel if he were hired?

I don't think there would be rioting in the streets, but if it's not Archie Miller, then it probably better be someone who has more of a track record of success, like Mick Cronin. Of course winning cures all, but I don't know that NC State is set up to compete in the immediate aftermath of the Gottfried capsizing due to potential roster turmoil and a class of 2017 that holds a grand total of one pledge. Send a UNC alum to a gun fight with a knife? Hmm.

And of course there's always that whole Monmouth bench thing.

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