#best part is that Mav gets paid to do it!

[an-eternal-state-of-simping]

Totally 100% True Top Gun Facts Pt. 3

By-the-book Admiral Tom Kazansky has frequently asked his minuscule hellion of a wingman to rain judgement upon those who’ve annoyed him.

Soon enough, people start to catch on that pissing off the Iceman results in an unfortunate assignment with the Navy’s equivalent of a live grenade filled with silly string.

[callsign-mayhem]

i'm with the band (part 2)

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female!Reader & Bradley Bradshaw x Female!Reader (final pairing to be revealed at the end...) Word count: 5.1k CW: Use of Y/N; reader wears Dr Martens, but that's the only specific detail.

You discover that your best friend Bob can play the drums, and since you have some musical gifts of your own, you decide to start a navy band. It's supposed to be a bit of harmless fun, but what happens when lines get blurred between you and Bob, feelings come to the surface, and a certain Rooster gets jealous?

This is a multi-part fic.

Find part one here!

The Hard Deck was bustling like it always was on a Saturday night. Bradley was the last of the daggers to arrive, so he headed straight to the bar to get caught up. When he was eventually next in line to be served, he was more than a little surprised to see Maverick behind the bar.

‘What’re you doing, Mav?’ He asked.

Maverick handed two pints of beer to a young aviator, flashed him a million-dollar smile and then turned on Bradley. ‘Helping Penny,’ he replied. ‘One of her girls called in sick.’

Bradley’s lips quirked. ‘Does this mean I get free beers all night?’

Penny suddenly appeared beside him, a tray of empty glasses in hand. 

‘No, Rooster, it doesn’t. And if Pete wants to keep his balls attached to his body, he’ll agree with me.’

‘Remind me never to get on your bad side.’ Bradley grumbled.

‘There’s a beer in the tap for you, anyway,’ Maverick explained. ‘From Y/CS.’

‘What?’

‘Three beers, actually. She paid for them when she got here, something about getting you back for the sex on the beach.’ Maverick grinned, seemingly pleased that he’d successfully embarrassed his son for all intents and purposes. ‘Hope you used protection.’ 

‘Oh god, Mav. Stop. That’s not what she meant.’

‘I know what she meant,’ he said, pouring Bradley’s beer. ‘She’s drunk already. Phoenix too.’ 

Bradley’s stomach somersaulted. He’d seen you drunk a handful of times, and he was obsessed with the way it made you more confident. 

‘Yeah, that’s my fault.’ 

‘Keep an eye on them, alright?’

‘Always do.’ Bradley saluted him and headed towards your space in the corner. 

Somebody had the good sense to push three high tables together. Much to Bradley’s annoyance, Bob and Mickey had already taken the seats on either side of you. Nat was sitting opposite you like she had at the restaurant, so she saw Bradley before you did. 

‘ROOSTER’S HERE!’ She yelled.

You spun around so fast that you almost slid off your stool. Before Bradley could steady you, Bob was already there with his hand on your arm. 

‘ROOOOOOOOOOO!’ You cried. ‘Did Mav tell you about your drinks?’ 

You weren’t drunk to the point of heavy eyes and slurred speech, but you were the furthest from sober next to Nat. The last empty seat was right at the edge of the tables, next to Jake. Bradley didn’t feel like chatting to him all night, so he picked the stool up and put it at the head of the table by you and Natasha. 

‘Yes, he did. You shouldn’t have, doll.’ 

You practically swooned at the pet name, a reaction Bradley filed away for later. He wondered how else he could make you swoon. 

‘What did I miss?’ He asked, settling himself on his stool.

‘Me and Y/CS duetting Limp Bizkit in Bob’s truck,’ Nat informed him. ‘It was something to behold, really.’ 

‘Penny should start doing karaoke nights,’ you said. ‘Imagine the fun we’d have.’

‘Nobody would want to do karaoke with you, Y/N.’ Bob said. He had two Corona Extra bottles in front of him and a full one in hand. Bradley supposed that you weren’t the only one who needed a bit of Dutch courage tonight. ‘You’d smoke every single one of us with that voice of yours.’ 

You blushed deeply. Mickey and Natasha shared a knowing look, all but confirming Bradley’s suspicions. 

‘He’s not wrong,’ Bradley chimed in. ‘We should get behind the piano later.’

So maybe he was swinging his dick around. Either way, the way your eyes widened at his suggestion was worth feeling like a dick for a couple of seconds.

‘Really?’ 

‘Yeah, it’s been a minute.’ 

‘I’d love that, Roo.’

Nat jumped down from her stool. ‘Let’s get another drink, Y/N. I think Penny wants to talk to us about that thing.’

‘She does? What thing?’

‘The thing,’ Mickey interjected. ‘You know, the surprise for Mav.’

One second, two, three. Then realisation suddenly dawned on you, and you disappeared with

Mickey and Natasha, out of Bradley’s grasp yet again. 

What he wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall during that conversation. 

Natasha led you through the swarm of people around the bar and out to the decking. Part of it was undercover, which is where you stood to keep out of the rain. Clusters of people were huddled underneath the shelter, smoking cigarettes and sharing drinks. Mickey had followed you out, which you found highly amusing. 

‘You’re not one of the girls.’ You toyed, poking him in the chest. 

‘I am tonight. I know what’s going on, and I wanna be involved.’

Nat rolled her eyes so hard they disappeared into the back of her head. ‘You’re such a child, Fanboy.’

‘Oh, let him stay. Maybe it’d help to get a guy’s perspective. He texted me at the restaurant to tell me Rooster was looking at my tits.’

Natasha scowled. ‘Don’t let me hear you say tits, Fanboy. It doesn’t suit you.’

You and Mickey both howled with laughter. ‘That’s exactly what I said!’ 

‘We’re getting off track here,’ Phoenix said, flapping her hands. ‘Pay attention.’

Mickey nodded, face grave. ‘Attention on deck.’ 

‘First of all,’ she started, ignoring his pun. ‘Bradley was looking at your tits. Let’s get that out of the way. Second of all, Bob was also looking at them.’

‘Well, he was trying not to, which made it obvious that that’s where he wanted to look.’ Mickey corrected. 

‘Right.’ Nat agreed.

Heat pooled in the bottom of your tummy. ‘What am I supposed to do with this information?’

  ‘You gotta make a decision.’

‘What if I don’t want to be with anyone right now?’

‘Don’t you?’

It sounded even more stupid out loud. Of course, you wanted to be with someone, but how were you supposed to pick out of the two most incredible guys in the whole world?

‘Why do I have to make a decision now?’

‘Cause they aren’t gonna wait around forever.’ Natasha told you. 

‘Bob might.’ Mickey said, earning him a smack around the back of the head. ‘What the fuck was that for?’

‘Bob has just as much chance of finding someone else as Bradley,’ Natasha chided. ‘Don’t talk down about him.’

‘Right, sorry.’ 

‘Me and Bob are starting a band,’ you blurted out. ‘We’ve been getting close lately, practising and stuff. A few navy guys are coming to his place next week to audition.’ 

‘Oh boy,’ Mickey grinned. ‘You’re starting a navy band and didn’t ask Rooster to join?’

‘His name didn’t even come up,’ you admitted. ‘I doubt he’d wanna be part of it anyway. He’ll probably say it’s lame.’

Nat tucked a loose curl behind your ear. ‘If you think that, you don’t know him at all. He lives and breathes music, and he won’t think it’s lame if you and Bob are there.’

‘If she’s there, you mean.’

Nat raised her hand, and Mickey flinched. ‘I swear to God, your honorary girl membership isn’t gonna mean shit if you say one more word.’

‘Damn.’

‘We should go back inside.’ You said. 

‘Tomorrow, we’re gonna talk about this. Once we’ve dropped Bob off at his truck. You’re not gonna keep getting out of it.’ 

‘Breakfast? What breakfast? Can I come?’ 

‘Fanboy, for fuck’s sake.’ 

Bob was arguing with you over the songs in the jukebox again. A fuzzy feeling had overtaken his body, filling the empty spaces with warmth and giving him confidence he’d never known until now. Sure, he’d been drunk before��well, drunk by his definition—but this was something else entirely. He’d come to the conclusion that even though he was enjoying himself immensely, it wasn’t something he wanted to feel on the regular. He didn’t understand how people did this every weekend. 

‘If you had to pick one song in this jukebox to listen to for the rest of time, what would you pick?’ You asked, leaning against the machine.

Bob scanned the song titles that were becoming so familiar to him that he’d probably be able to recite them in his sleep soon enough. 

‘That’s an impossible question.’ 

You smiled lazily. ‘Come on, Bobby.’

‘You’re expecting me to pick one when there’s The Clash, Bon Jovi, Bruce Springsteen and AC/DC in this jukebox.’ 

‘And Billy Idol. You can’t forget Billy.’ 

‘Exactly my point.’ 

You leaned over to reread the song’s titles. Bob admired the way your hair slipped over your shoulder, brushing the hand he was using to steady himself against the jukebox. You were closer to him now than at the restaurant earlier, and he wished he could bottle your scent and carry it around with him all day. He was obsessed with your perfect, glossed lips and the idea of kissing them. 

His small crush on you wasn’t small right now, and being intoxicated made it harder for him to stop himself from doing something about it. You reached out and pressed the number for Dancing In The Dark before taking his hand in yours—a small feat, maybe, but not to him. Your hand was soft and warm, and he wanted to feel it on his face again, like in his truck. 

‘Where are we going?’ He questioned. 

‘To dance.’ 

‘I can’t dance, Y/N. You know that.’ 

‘Everyone can dance when they’re drunk,’ you reassured him. ‘Just don’t overthink it.’

It was easier said than done, but with your hand in his, his newfound confidence grew three sizes until it was almost too big for his body. You two were something straight out of a movie just then, dancing in a small space you’d found in the middle of the bar, singing along to the lyrics at the same time. 

He respectfully rested a hand on your waist, and you put the hand that wasn’t holding his other one on his shoulder, so you were like ballroom dancers. You sure looked the part, being too overdressed for The Hard Deck; the only thing missing was an actual ability to dance, but you were both too happy to care. Little did you know that Natasha was filming the whole thing on her phone and taking pictures now and then. 

When the song ended, you both waited to see what would play next, but nothing did. Instead, Bob was brought harshly back to reality, to the sounds of glasses clinking and loud chatter. That’s when it dawned on him that the jukebox had been unplugged. Once people realised what was happening, they moved to the piano on the other side of the bar from where you and Bob had been dancing. He hadn’t even noticed Bradley leaving the table to unplug the jukebox or take his seat at the piano because he’d been too wrapped up in your energy, your touch, and the sound of your voice. 

He wasn’t happy to have been interrupted by Rooster yet again, but the idea of hearing you sing properly—not just under your breath while dancing—was highly alluring. 

‘I think it’s piano time.’ You grinned. 

Still holding tightly onto his hand, you weaved your way through the massive crowd to the rest of the daggers, all of whom were at the front, waiting for their friends’ performance. When Bradley saw you, his face broke out into a toothy grin. He’d donned his aviators as per usual, and he watched you walk over to him over top of them like it was just you in the room. 

Bob couldn’t exactly blame him. Most of the time, you were the only person in the room for him, too. 

When Bradley patted the spot on the bench, you hurried yourself, clearly excited to perform. The alcohol was probably helping, as he’d yet to convince you to get behind the instrument sober. 

Bob moved to stand between Natasha and Reuben. 

‘Been having fun?’ Nat quipped. 

‘I was.’

‘Is that a little jealousy I hear in your tone, Floyd?’ 

Reuben nudged him playfully. ‘Come on, man. Phoenix didn’t raise you to sit on the sidelines. If you like Y/CS, don’t just sit around and watch someone else sweep her off her feet.’ 

Keys tinkled as Bradley got reacquainted with the piano. He looked to you earnestly, silently asking if you were ready. In response, you nodded and offered him an anxious but excited smile. 

Bob recognised the song immediately. 

Bradley sang the first verse, and you sang the second. Where his was husky and deliciously rough around the edges, yours was full and velvety. 

Slow down, you crazy child You're so ambitious for a juvenile But then, if you're so smart, tell me Why are you still so afraid?

Where's the fire, what's the hurry about? You better cool it off before you burn it out You got so much to do, and only So many hours in a day

When the chorus came around, both you and Bradley sang together. Paired with his expert piano playing, it was the most beautiful cacophony. Your voices welded together like precious metals, and the result was priceless. 

But you know that when the truth is told That you can get what you want Or you can just get old You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through  When will you realise, Vienna waits for you?

You were bouncing off one another. When Bradley sang louder, you sang louder. When Bradley’s voice deepened, it made yours sound more angelic. When you held a particularly long and high note towards the end of the song, Bradley stopped singing altogether to give you and your voice a very deserving moment in the spotlight. Everyone around the piano was singing along, even Bob. He was helpless to stop the urge. Bradley’s stage presence was infectious, even when you weren’t performing with him, but there was something about you singing Billy Joel that made it virtually impossible not to join in. It wasn’t just the song or the fact that you were singing it, but the apparent joy that performing brought you and Bradley. Someone would have to be deaf and blind not to notice it. 

Bob was half considering asking Bradley to join the band. He was talented, and Bob could see that he’d be an asset, what with how much you loved singing with him. 

But that was also the problem, wasn’t it? 

He hadn’t even wanted to be in the band, but now he was protective of the whole idea. He didn’t want band practice to become another place where he competed for your attention and affection. 

Bradley managed an expert transition from Vienna straight into his usual crowd-pleaser, Great Balls of Fire. Bob had no idea how he’d managed it, but he had, and the crowd roared with delight. Mickey and Javy—who had somehow overtaken you and Nat and currently held the position of the drunkest daggers—were jumping around like maniacs. Bob, Nat, Jake and Reuben were laughing amongst themselves, totally distracted by their shenanigans. 

As a result, Bob missed the smouldering look that you and Bradley shared, the way you reached up and stole his aviators with a wink, all while never missing a word of the song. He was singing at you, and you were singing at him. Now, not only were you the only ones in The Hard Deck, but you were also the only ones left on planet Earth. 

It was gone 1 AM when the cab pulled up in front of your home. Stars twinkled in the night sky—looking much like your dress—and your front garden was bathed in moonlight. It had been a night for the ages, but as brilliant of a time you’d had, you were looking forward to taking off your boots and putting your pyjamas on. 

Natasha seemed to share your sentiment—she’d taken her shoes off in the cab and walked up your front path in her socks, trainers swinging absentmindedly from her hand. You were glad she was spending the night because you felt you needed an entire debrief after the evening’s events. 

Bob’s presence was perhaps more exciting than the prospect of gossiping and making breakfast with Nat. He was drunker than you’d ever seen him, humming to himself as he led you to your front door. He held your arm to keep you steady, and the contact felt out of this world. 

‘Bobbyyyy—’ you slurred. ‘Please, can you get my house key out of my bag? I don’t think I have any base brain functions.’

He laughed, taking your bag off your shoulder to find your house key. ‘I knew I should’ve stopped Seresin when he started ordering shots.’

‘Nah. That might have been the best idea he’s ever had.’

‘I think we’re gonna have to agree to disagree on this one.’

You and Bob were standing on your porch with the front door open. He gestured to Natasha, who was doubled over next to your rosebushes. 

‘Example A.’ He smirked.

You facepalmed. ‘Not the fucking roses, Nix!’ 

She heaved once, twice, then promptly threw up. You started down the steps, but Bob reached out and grabbed your arm again. 

‘You can’t even stand up straight,’ he said. ‘Go inside, I’ll get her.’ 

‘Yes, sir.’ 

You stumbled through to the kitchen, turning lights on as you went. The air in your house still smelled like the autumn candle you’d been burning earlier and clean laundry. At heart, you were a homebody. Nothing was more satisfying than returning to a clean, organised space, cooking a meal and watching a movie tucked under blankets after a long day. It was rare for you to enjoy a night out like this, to be the one begging everyone to stay for one more drink. The atmosphere had been charged tonight, especially at The Hard Deck. When you’d performed ‘Vienna’ with Bradley, it had been like touching a live wire. The current still reverberated through your body, and your body ached from unused energy. 

In the time it took Bob to get Natasha inside, you poured three glasses of water, added some ice, and nearly tripped over your own feet. She looked a bit worse for wear, but it was nothing that some aspirin and long rest wouldn’t fix. 

‘I think you two should get upstairs to bed.’ Bob said sternly.

‘Okay, dad.’ Nat sniggered. ‘You gonna tuck us in?’

‘Well, I just held your hair back while you threw up, so we’ve already crossed a line.’

‘Girls do that for each other all the time,’ you said. ‘It’s normal.’

‘But I’m not a girl.’

Nat wagged an accusing finger at him. ‘You know what, if Fanboy was here, he’d have appreciated that. He loves being one of the girls.’

‘So true,’ you murmured in agreement. ‘Bob, you’re being ungrateful.’

‘For what?’

‘Your hon-honourary girl membership.’ You said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

‘Alright, let’s go. Get your waters.’ 

Both of you did as you were told but weren’t happy about it. You headed towards the staircase, Bob following close behind. He turned lights off as he went, ever thoughtful. 

Upstairs, Nat collapsed face-first onto your bed. You rummaged through your chest of drawers for three sets of pyjamas while Bob switched your lamps on and closed your blinds. 

‘Bobby, are you okay with one of my oversized band tees?’ You asked.

When he didn’t answer, you spun around. He was perched on the edge of your bed, the photo frame you kept on your side in his hand. He was cradling it like it was worth a million dollars, eyes misty and far away. It was a photograph of you and him on the carrier after the special detachment mission when everyone had gone out to meet Maverick and Rooster. There seemed always to be people taking pictures in moments like those, and when you’d seen this one, you had to frame it. You and Bob were standing facing one another, faces bright with triumph and relief. He cradled your tear-streaked face in his hands, and you were both laughing in disbelief that you were together again. 

‘You keep this next to your bed?’ He whispered. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you said: ‘Of course I do.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’re my best friend, and I like it being the first thing I see when I wake up in the mornings.’ 

Bob set the photo down gently. He seemed to be having a hard time breathing. ‘One of your T-shirts will be fine, thanks.’ 

Natasha sat up, rubbing her head. ‘You guys are so cute,’ she said. ‘Do you want me to sleep in the guest room?’ 

Your eyes flew to Bob. He was playing with his hands, clearly still stuck on the photograph. 

‘No, Nix. You should sleep in here with me in case you choke on your vomit.’ You threw a pair of Spongebob pyjamas at her. ‘Go put those on.’ 

‘Both of you are so bossy.’ She grumbled. ‘You’re perfect for each other.’

She padded across your bedroom floor and out into the hallway. Once you heard the bathroom door close, you sat next to Bob on the edge of the bed.

‘It’s a Radiohead t-shirt.’ You informed him. ‘I don’t think any of my pyjama pants will be long enough for you.’ 

He took the shirt and set it on your pillow, ignoring the unsaid words that hung in the air like rain clouds. It was all you could do to sit still when Bob took his glasses off and ran his fingers through his sandy hair. 

‘Thank you for letting me stay,’ he said quietly. ‘And for the shirt.’

You looked at him earnestly, waiting for him to meet your eye. ‘Thank you for existing.’

His leg bounced nervously. When you laid a hand atop his thigh to stop it, his eyes darted to and from your face so fast you almost missed it. There was no way you were letting him shy away from this time. 

‘Bobby, look at me.’ You pleaded.

He did as you asked with some difficulty, and you were met with a hesitant gaze. 

You touched the middle of his head with your index finger. ‘What’s going on in there?’

He leaned against your hand, smiling bashfully like a child. ‘It’s a secret.’ 

‘We don’t keep secrets.’

It seemed like he was going to spill his guts for a moment, but then he stood up. He grabbed your t-shirt, pausing above you.

‘Get some sleep, Y/N. I’ll see you in the morning.’

And with that, he took himself off to the guest room, leaving your heart racing and your head spinning. When Natasha returned, you were still staring at the doorframe, desperately trying to figure out what had just happened. It seemed like Bob was upset with you. 

‘What happened?’

‘I think Bob’s angry with me.’ 

‘Why?’

You picked up the picture frame and handed it to her. ‘He was looking at this, and I tried to talk to him—see if I could see what was going on in his head—and he couldn’t even look at me. He told me to go to sleep.’

Nat’s brows knitted together in confusion. ‘I don’t think he’s upset with you.’

‘He is.’

‘No, he’s not. Hear me out: he’s in love with you, and most of the time, you guys act like more than best friends. Short of sleeping together, you’re basically already a couple. Then, tonight, you have that moment with Bradley—’

‘It-’

Nat held a hand up. ‘Don’t deny it, we all saw it. There’s chemistry there.’ She insisted. ‘Bob’s probably super confused because he can see it too, and then he comes here and sees this. The poor guy probably doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going.’ 

Your heart withered in your chest at the realisation. ‘He’s in love with me.’

‘Yes, Y/N, and you need to do something about it. If you think you might feel the same way, you need to stop fucking around with Rooster and give it a shot with Bob. Or, you need to let Bob down gently because otherwise, someone is gonna get seriously hurt.’ 

God, how you wished it were that simple. You took the clips from your hair and kicked off your boots while Natasha took her makeup off at your vanity. All seriousness put aside, it did feel a lot like the kinds of sleepovers you had with your friends in high school. 

‘Nix, can you unzip my dress?’

‘Damn, now you’re trying it on with me too?’

You laughed. ‘You make me sound like a whore.’

‘I mean, if the shoe fits…’

You grabbed one of your throw pillows and launched it at her. She squealed with laughter, jumping up to grab her own pillow. After dealing a few revenge blows, she unzipped your dress for you. 

Breathless from laughter, you said: ‘Hangman would have a field day if he saw us.’

‘When he asks how our sleepover was on Monday morning, we should tell him we had a pillow fight in lingerie.’ Natasha grinned devilishly. 

‘He won’t be able to focus on his manoeuvres.’

‘Good, then I’ll beat him all day.’ 

Natasha crawled into your bed and propped herself up on your throw pillows. You went through the motions of your night routine, taking off your makeup and changing into pyjamas. It was gone 2 AM by the time you got into bed. You had lots to think about. Natasha was right about somebody getting hurt if you didn’t do something soon. She’d told you everything you needed to hear except what you were supposed to do about it. 

Why couldn’t there be a blueprint, a map that showed you which path to follow and where you’d end up? 

As you drifted off to sleep, you thought about band auditions with Bob on Tuesday afternoon and the expression on his face when he’d seen the picture on your bedside. But this wasn’t all you thought about. You couldn’t help but reminisce about your performance with Bradley and the pure, unadulterated joy you felt while singing with him at the piano. 

Rain pelted against the roof of Bob’s garage. The weather had been awful the last couple of days, the build-up to the storm that had been forecasted for San Diego. Bob loved being cosied up inside when it was storming and falling asleep to the comforting sound of rain. What he didn’t love was the fact that it kept the dagger squad grounded and bored at work. Sure, there were other things to get on with, but he preferred being airborne. 

It had been a tedious week thus far. The only thing getting him through it had been the prospect of band auditions this evening. Considering he didn’t even want to start a band to begin with, he was in his element now. You and Bob were sitting on the sofa in his garage, leaning forward in your seats as you listened to Elliot Green play bass with expert precision. Elliot was one of the air and space operations guys, and he’d seen the poster you’d made on his way to work one morning. Bob wasn’t sure anyone would notice your posters, even though you’d spent ages creating them. 

He’d never been happier to have been wrong about something because Elliot was a natural on the bass. He was precisely the kind of person you needed for the band, and Bob could tell from the glint in your eye that you felt the same.

When he was finished, you both gave him a hearty applause. Elliot was tall and lean, with sandy blonde hair slightly longer than Bob’s and glasses. At work, he wore the same glasses as Bob, but he had a different pair for out of hours. These were round with tortoiseshell rims, and Bob couldn’t help but think Elliot was an artsier version of him. 

‘Well,’ you said dreamily. ‘I don’t think Bob and I need to discuss anything.’

‘No, we don’t.’

‘The spot is yours if you want it.’ You beamed.

Elliot’s blinked behind his glasses, taken aback. ‘Isn’t there anyone else trying out?’

‘Not for bass,’ Bob explained. ‘We've got someone else coming over in the next hour, but he’s trying out for guitar.’

‘You wanna stay?’ You offered. ‘Since you’re part of the band now, it might be a good idea.’

‘Yeah, sure.’ He smiled. ‘Thanks, guys. I’m excited.’

Not even half an hour later, Fletcher Adams showed up with the sexiest-looking guitar Bob had ever seen. It was a matte black Strat, and it suited him perfectly, what with his slicked-back raven hair, grey eyes, and sharp jawline. He introduced himself as Fletcher, but you and Bob knew him as something else. 

Fletcher Adams. Callsign: Phantom. 

He was part of another squadron, and although Bob didn’t know him well, Phantom’s reputation preceded him. If Bob weren’t part of a better squadron than Fletcher, he’d have found him intimidating. 

‘Thanks for having me, guys.’ Fletcher said. ‘I’ve been fixing to join a band for a while now, but there’s not much happening in the San Diego music scene.’ 

Somehow, Bob found that hard to believe. As you grabbed a cherry coke from the mini fridge, Fletcher eyed you like you were something to eat. If he’d wanted a bandmate with a massive crush on his best friend, he’d have called Bradley up.

‘Let’s see what you’ve got.’ Bob said, gesturing towards the guitar. 

Fletcher made a ballsy choice for his audition song: Master of Puppets by Metallica. Part of Bob had hoped that Fletcher was shit at guitar, but he was anything but. It was as if his instrument was an extension of his body, the strings extensions of his fingers. If that wasn’t enough, he played the most challenging part of the song with his eyes closed in bliss. 

It appeared the band was complete. 

Before wrapping things up for the night, you all made plans for the same time and place on Friday night to start putting some songs together. You also pooled all your equipment and made a short list of things you were missing. Everyone contributed, and you and Bob arranged a trip into the city over the weekend to get the last few bits you needed.

The whole thing had come together remarkably quickly, perhaps too quickly for Bob’s liking. At work, he was trained to keep his cool in stressful situations. It was different then, when he could use his nervous energy for problem-solving and quick thinking. He wasn’t unused to feeling like a fish out of water, but this was the furthest from the pond he’d ever been. Bob liked to keep his head below the parapet where it was less likely to get cut off. He stayed off the radar and made as little noise as possible, but starting a band was the exact opposite of that. 

And falling in love with you was the noisiest thing he’d ever done.

A/N: Part two is finally here! This fic isn't doing as well as I thought it would, but I'm still going to finish it because I'm enjoying writing it. I guess my uni professor was right in saying that the projects you're super attached to are the worst received. I have such big plans for the next parts, and it's kind of writing itself at this point. I have no idea whether the reader ends up with Bob or Bradley, so I'll be just as surprised as you guys!

Taglist: @dearsnow

[outalongtheedges]

Goose On Film

Part 2

“Oh so that’s where that picture went”, Maverick mumbled more to himself than to anyone in particular.

Not that the others would’ve cared much about what he had to say about an old picture on a corkboard in the Bradshaw’s study.

“Interesting. I thought I had lost that one”, Slider’s wife suddenly said beside him. “Should’ve known Goose took it back.”

Maverick nodded before reaching up to take the picture of him and Ice off the board. He’s had it inside of his wallet for the better part of 10 years before he had ‘lost it’.

“What do you think you’re doing there, Maverick?!”, Goose slapped his wrist before he could reach the picture. “It’s mine!”

Okay so to be fair Goose did take the picture and he also paid for them to be printed out but it still was a picture of Ice and Mav. So it made sense for Maverick to have it, right? Slider’s wife seemed to have been thinking the same thing judging by the way she eyed the photo of her husband.

“I know what you’re thinking, Pete Mitchell! Don’t even try it. It’s an important piece in my ‘Goose on Film’ series.”, Goose continued to argue with his best friend. “You got more than enough pictures of you and that blond bastard, don’t you think?”

Maverick rolled his eyes. He could never have enough pictures of him and Tom. Not in a million years could he have collected enough of them. And that picture in particular had been taken on Carole’s birthday in ‘92, and if you know anything about Carole’s birthday parties then you’d understand the significance of that photo. That Goose even managed to take a decent one of them was astounding.

Yeah okay Mav was looking down, reading god knows what and it was a little blurry, but Ice managed to look into the camera as if he’d never done anything else but model in his entire life.

“And you!”, Goose suddenly turned over to Mrs Kerner that had her fingers on one of the thumbtacks holding up her husbands picture, “Don’t even think about it! I’ve been to your house, the walls are full of pictures of Slider and his ugly mug!”

“But not this one. Look at how cute he looks…”, she looked the photo dreamily.

“I don’t know about Slider and cute.”, Goose and Mav said at the same time, questioning looks on their faces.

“Oh come on! You guys know what I mean!”

They did know, Goose and Mav could stare at their respective partners for hours and call them every term of endearment under the sun and wouldn’t get tired.

„Come on Goose!“, Maverick whined pointing at the picture. „Let me have it back. It doesn’t look nice enough for your photo books anymore anyways.“

„What exactly did you do with yours, Pete?“, Mrs Kerner asked with a raised brow, looking sceptical as ever. „Looks like you crumpled it up.“

„I had it in my wallet? And then on my plane.“

„You know what you’re right. They’re both in horrible condition.“, Goose sighed exasperatedly, „I still have the negatives. Take them and treat them horribly! No respect for my art!“

Slider’s wife took the picture down triumphantly and folded it up the way it probably had been for years. So did Mav, staring lovingly at the photo he had stared at every time he went up in his plane.

„You two are paying for the new prints I have to make!“

„Of course Nick, honey. I’ll pay for it“, Mrs Kerner chuckled and Maverick nodded along.

All of them knew they wouldn’t pay for the prints, not that Goose would care.

———

Masterlist Part 2

Another silly little manip and this time with a story?? I’m treating you and myself (mostly myself) with this one aren’t I?

Let me know what you lovely people think ✨🎈💕

Remember be nice and respectful, have a nice day and a good nights sleep.

[tgmsunmontue]

It's all academic darlin' PART 6/10

12k+ Hangster AU. Updating 2-3 parts per week and will be finished by 14th January 2024. (Each part is ~1500 words).

Bradley is a professor but living his best life with IceMav parents. Jake is a pilot. Maverick sort-of tries (and fails) to play matchmaker, so he tries again. Touch of epistolary and sprinkling of one-sided unknown/mistaken-identity.

For the emails in this part (because bold (Bradley Bradshaw) and italics (Jake Seresin) aren't super obvious) the beginning and ending of emails are also marked with this: <>

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5

                Bradley stares at the email and snorts in disbelief. Fucking hell, Mav's right. Alive and breathing and he’ll flirt with it. Though it does make him wonder why Jake didn't flirt with him when they were at the cabin. One word he'd never use to describe Jake Seresin is shy.

&lt;>You’re lucky you’re not one of my students. Pretty sure I’d have to report that email for sexual harassment.<>

&lt;>Lucky for you I’m not. Anyway, you started it.<>

&lt;>Not intentionally. I’ve used that turn of phrase dozens of times before and never had anyone reply like you have. And I’m never going to be able to use it again without thinking it’s inappropriate, so thanks for that.<>

&lt;>I aim to please.<>

&lt;>I’m sure you do.<>

…             …             …

&lt;>I’m sure you do.<>

                Those four little words have Jake taking in a long slow breath, he’s never before realized that flirting through email was something you could do. Makes sense, he’s done it through text messages and apps plenty, and obviously in person, but through email is a new thing. Plus he’s never flirted and not known what the person looked like before, even if they were old pictures on Tinder or Grindr… Apps he never got back around to reinstalling on his phone. He wonders if it’s just the length of time since he got laid that is making him feel… interested. Curious. This flirting is two-way, he hasn’t had the guy give short or sharp replies, he’s humoring Jake. Almost playful.

                He’s on a carrier for the next few months, training and upskilling; so he has nothing to lose in emailing this guy. Being flirty. Plus he’ll actually get some answers to his original questions which he sent off earlier. He’s definitely more interested in this than he thought though, wonders if the guy is single. Okay. That’s putting the carriage before the horse, they’re exchanging emails. If it becomes something more than just… light flirting and getting to know each other then he will ask.

…             …             …

&lt;>So what do you like to do in your down time?<>

&lt;>Well, I have a pretty full schedule. I teach and carry out research, but that’s my job so not down time I guess. But I love it, so it doesn’t exactly feel like work. Outside of my paid hours of work I do… well. Everything? I love trying new things, sometimes the more dangerous the better. I do rock climbing at least twice a week, hiking, do some jet skiing, water skiing, snowboarding. Picked up all the winter sports when I lived in Sweden. Plus my dad is a freaking daredevil and adrenalin junky so he’s always finding ways to do stupid shit. Usually drags me along. I go out to a quiz night with my postgrad students and some colleagues. What about you?<>

&lt;>You mean the very little leave I have? I usually spend it with friends and doing whatever they want to do. I’ve started enjoying hiking a bit more, like keeping active. I love my job too, feel very lucky to get to fly and get paid for it.<>

…             …             …

&lt;>Favorite type of music?<>

&lt;>Country. Can take the Texan out of Texas, but you can’t take the country lovin’ out of the Texan. You?<>

<>I’ve yet to hear music I don’t like. But I’m a fan of things I can sing along to. I’m constantly singing, people say they can hear me before they can see me.<>

                Jake rubs his eyes, feels like he’s making connections where they don’t exist. Lots of people like singing along to music. And Bradley is a common name. In the beginning some of the emails do actually go into the work Bradley does, and he gets more articles to read. He’s got a much better grasp of materials science now, and he re-reads the original article Mav gave him and it’s fascinating now, rather than being slightly interesting.

…             …             …

&lt;>So how long is your deployment and what are you up to? If you can share it.<>

&lt;>Unless something comes up I’ve got three months left of what is a seven month deployment. And I’m a naval aviator. Recently been doing nothing but night landings, which I have to admit has to be my least favorite thing to do. Nothing like taking off from a carrier though.<>

&lt;>My dad was a naval aviator. A RIO.<>

&lt;>Does he still fly?<>

&lt;>No. He died when I was small. Training exercise actually, so you be safe out there.<>

&lt;>Always.<>

                Bradley stares at the screen in front of him, thinks about Mav telling him that Jake saved his life and what kind of fucked up mission apparently made him an Ace. Knows his mom didn’t want him joining any of the armed forces, but he doesn’t know how she’d feel about him wanting to… date one. Obviously exchanging some emails isn’t dating, but he still feels like he’s laying groundwork for something and it’s a little unsettling. But his life is so heavily intertwined with the defense force, he understands the ebb and flow and nature of work. Has to accommodate it often enough with his own research.

                Also, he’s not sure, but he gets the feeling that Jake has forgotten that they’ve met. He knows now that Jake was dealing with concussion when they met, so he’s wary about reminding him. He’s been there; both the dealing with a concussion and dealing with Mav playing a bit free and easy with personal medical details. Regardless, being reminded you’ve forgotten shit and not remembering just makes you feel like shit so he just… ignores it. He doesn’t mention Mav, wouldn’t have mentioned Ice anyway, and just refers to his ‘dad’ to sort-of describe his dad, Mav, and Ice, even if it might get confusing if Jake picks up on it.

                He takes the email communication as the opportunity it is though, to get to know Jake without the idea that he needs to portray any particular type of image. He’s going to ask all the questions which have crossed his mind in the last few months. Okay. Maybe not all of them…

…             …             …

&lt;>Do you like cooking?<>

&lt;>Yeah, definitely. I don’t get much opportunity though. My gran taught me. I like the meditative nature of a lot of the works. Like kneading dough, julienning vegetables, finely dicing things… that’s one of my happy places. What about you?<>

&lt;>Yeah, I love cooking too. I totally get what you mean about it being meditative, takes you out of other thoughts and makes you focus. Also I love cooking for others. I’m told it’s one of my love languages.<>

…             …             …

&lt;>You ever wonder what your life would be like if you took a different path? I think about it sometimes, if I'd studied something different, or followed my dad despite my mom pretty much expressly forbidding me to do so...<>

&lt;>I'd be on my family ranch. Or in the airforce. I like my life though, wouldn't want to change much. <>

&lt;>No regrets then?<>

&lt;>A few. But I wouldn’t be the man I am today without them so not really.<>

…             …             …

&lt;>Sorry this can’t be longer – I’ve got a pile of marking and then I’ve got to get to my dad’s for dinner. Weekly dinner cannot be missed upon pain of death, even if right now it’s a choice between undergraduate essays and dinner with the parentals.<>

                Jake frowns, he’s certain Bradley had said previously that his dad had died when he was young. Must be a step-dad or something. The emails haven’t remained super flirty, but there’s definitely been comments here and there. One email confirming he’s single, which Jake had tucked away; felt encouraged that this was going somewhere and he feels weirdly invested in just where that somewhere might be. The emails have made the weeks flow quickly, the constant communication back and forth has just felt… good. Bradley has made him laugh, and challenged him to think about technical shit which he’d never done before. He’s still been working out and socializing plenty, but for fifteen to thirty minutes a day he spends reading and writing to Bradley and he’ll be back within six days and Bradley’s last line in his email has his heart skipping a beat and then going double time.

&lt;>If my dates are right, then the GW gets in this week. How do you feel about catching up over a drink?<>

&lt;>Before or after the hands-on experience and private tour?<>

                He’s more confident this time that he’s going to get a positive answer, not the original dread after his first flirty email months ago. He does indeed get in this week, and for once he might have plans which aren’t with friends or family. He sends a quick email to his brother and sister, letting them know he’ll come and visit after he’s been back at least a week, which is his usual practice anyway.

…             …             …

&lt;>So the easiest thing, for an ACTUAL tour of the labs, is for you to come to the University. I finish teaching at 3 on Friday, so can show you around then. Just come to the engineering office and I’ll swing by. Then we can discuss the hands-on experiences. You want my number?<>

&lt;>You have a functioning phone?<>

&lt;>Harsh. Here’s my number anyway. I’ll try and keep my phone safe.<>

                What the fuck.

                That’s just… it’s too much of a coincidence now. Jake scrunches his face and wonders if he’s maybe still just trying to make connections where there aren’t any. Is it all wishful thinking on his part? There just seems to be more and more mounting evidence though. It started off with a couple of things that made him wonder. It’s been too long now to ask outright, but he’s put the pieces together. Bradley Bradshaw is also somehow Bradley Mitchell and a part of him doesn’t want to ask. Can’t ask now that it’s been four months of emailing back and forth. He grabs his phone, most of the contacts are callsigns or emojis, and he decides to go with the theme and puts a little rooster emoji and he opens up the notes app. Wants to list things manually.

                He likes singing to music.

                He may or may not have a functioning phone. Again?

                He’s a navy brat, which any kid of Mav’s would be.

                Except he said his dad died in a training exercise…

                Mav gave me the article.

                Okay.

                Okay.

                He cracks his knuckles and searches for Bradley Bradshaw again. Pictures of the Bradley who he thinks of as Mav’s son come up again, but this time he does some actual digging, clicking through links to conferences featuring keynote speaker profiles and it has actual photos. Definitely photos of Bradley Bradshaw, his name under the photo and everything. So Bradley Bradshaw and Bradley Mitchell are the same person and he’s coming to grips with that, because Mav gave him the article. He goes back and adds a row of exclamation points with a few question marks to help convey his confusion. What did Mav mean by giving him the article? What is he missing? Is he missing anything? Is he reading too much into this? He tugs at his hair in frustration.

                Wait.

                He goes back through the emails and there, Bradley says his dad was a naval aviator. Well, he guesses Mav was one too, even… but no. Bradley said his dad died during a training exercise. Something is tickling in the back of his mind and he logs in to the naval database, types in the name Bradshaw and there it is. There’s a fucking family resemblance to write home about, holy shit. He falls down a little rabbit hole of enquiry and finds out the history of Nicholas Bradshaw and Peter Mitchell and he knows now, 99.99% that Bradley Bradshaw is also Mav’s son. He puts all his email interactions with Bradley into perspective and yeah, they’d definitely been flirting and getting to know each other really well. He’s shared some things with Bradley which only Javy or his siblings know.

                Also Bradley’s hot, even with the shirts and bad moustache and now that he knows what Bradley Bradshaw looks like, knows what he looks like shirtless chopping wood, or stripping off after a run, or explaining how the pump system works… Fucking hell, of course he knows shit about stuff like that, he’s an engineer. He said he was a teacher. And he loves music, and flying and can cook… He goes back to Rate my Professor and rereads them with new eyes and huh, okay, yeah, it all tracks.

                Okay. They’ve arranged to meet and then… go from there. He’s not naïve enough to know drinks could mean anything, because Bradley Bradshaw for sure as hell knew who he was talking to the whole time. It does raise a different question in Jake’s mind though.

                Did he think Jake knew who he was talking to?

PART 7

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Altitude - Chapter 6

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem!OC

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x Fem!OC

Summary: Sydney is not a pilot. But she knows all their tricks. That's why, when she meets the smooth-talking Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, she's not falling for any of them. She's not falling for him, either.

CW: This is a Mav chapter. Love triangle, angst, marital conflict, slow burn.

Start from the beginning: Part I

Maverick settles his tab at the bar, now and again throwing a sideways glance at Jake Seresin and Bradley Bradshaw as they shower his daughter with attention. He imagines she must feel, at the very least, inconvenienced by their tiresome advances, and – more likely – encumbered by their presence. But she doesn’t show it; Sydney Mitchell is all smiles and laughter, as if either Hangman or Rooster have any sense of humor whatsoever. Maverick shakes his head, admiring his daughter’s acting skills. She actually looks as though she’s enjoying herself. Which is absurd – she couldn’t possibly be.

He bids his trainees goodnight and heads for the door. He doesn’t need to witness them getting hammered the night before their canyon run exercise. He’d end up lecturing them on the effects of alcohol on reaction time and how long it takes for the body to clear it from the system. He doesn’t want to be that guy. Besides, he remembers himself at their age, and he wouldn’t have paid himself any attention whatsoever. These life lessons are best learned by living. And, hopefully, surviving.

He steps out of the bar, hopping down the steps of the deck, and looks out at the rose-tinted sky. The sun is below the horizon now, and the rippling water is reflecting the red and orange hues of dusk. There are still people in the water, families gathering their belongings on the beach, couples enjoying the warm, evening air.

He slides on his sunglasses, turning toward the parking lot, the gravel of the road crushing under his boots, and starts for his bike. That’s when he sees her.

Cast in the golden glow of sunset, hair afloat in the breeze coming off the water, skirt flattened by the wind right against her legs, she’s like an apparition. Something out of this world. Something he’s been chasing after his entire life. Something surreal and forever just out of reach.

She’s walking toward the Hard Deck, tucking her hair behind her ear as it blows into her face. She spots him almost as soon as he sees her, and her step falters slightly. The hesitation is so minute that she clearly means for it to go undetected, but there is nothing about her that has ever escaped his notice.

His pace slows as he stares at her in wonder, half-expecting her to evaporate together with the salty air. He reaches up to remove his aviators, blinking profusely as though the act might somehow correct his vision and erase her from existence or, at any rate, from the parking lot.

She doesn’t look pleased to see him, even less so as he comes to a halt before they cross paths. He’s staring at her incredulously as she stops before him, sighing impatiently.

“Pete,” she says. The name falling from her lips stings. After all, she used to call him Maverick. “Fancy seeing you here.”

He nods, his mouth still slightly agape. “No kidding,” he responds.

She glances at the bar behind him irritably, as if he’s keeping her from much more pressing matters. She lets out a puff of air, folding her arms over her chest, apparently resigned to spending another several minutes in an uncomfortable silence with him.

“What brings you to North Island?” he asks, eyeing her warily, for the first time in his life unsure how to talk to her. Still, there isn’t anything in the world he’d rather be doing.

She gives him a pointed look. “Sydney, of course.”

Maverick nods. “Of course.” He hesitates, wanting, more than anything, to reach out and touch her arm, confirm that she’s real.

“Is she here? I’ve tracked her phone to this location.”

Maverick narrows his eyes. “She didn’t tell you she was coming?”

Another sigh. “You didn’t wonder for a minute why she’s suddenly decided to seek you out?”

Maverick shakes his head. “I didn’t want to question it.” He shrugs. “I was just happy to see her.”

She gives him a sympathetic glance, her icy demeanor collapsing around her. Then a small smile appears on her face as she lowers her gaze. “You’ve been good?” she asks expectantly.

He chuckles. “I have.”

She purses her lips, avoiding his gaze. “That’s good.”

He can’t take his eyes off her. “Could have been better,” he adds.

She scoffs and shakes her head, although the smile lingers on her face, despite the bitterness of her words. “Yeah, couldn’t we all?”

“Amelia,” he says quietly, his voice close to breaking.

She meets his gaze briefly and, in that instant, he nearly blacks out. She sighs sharply and looks away, but he’s reeling from the fleeting – but earth-shattering – eye contact. He takes an uneven breath, watching her stare at the gravel at his feet as if it were more interesting than his face.

There are about a million things he’d like to say to her, give or take a few, but he can’t seem to string two words together, let alone a relevant, coherent sentence. He can only gape at her, admiring her unparalleled beauty, finding comfort in her predictable cynicism. He wipes at his brow uneasily, giving his hand something to do besides clenching into a fist to keep it from shaking. He closes his eyes, breathing out steadily. “She’s inside,” he says.

Amelia looks up at him with a small smile. “Thanks,” she says.

Maverick nods to acknowledge the gratitude, trying to catch her gaze. Her eyes linger for a moment on his and it seems to take a significant amount of effort on her part to finally look away. “Amelia,” he calls when she starts to walk away. She turns back wearily. “You staying awhile?”

She lifts her eyebrows and bites on the inside of her cheek. “Not if I can help it,” she responds.

Maverick chuckles. “I’m sincerely hoping you can’t,” he says, to which she rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

He watches her cross the parking lot toward the stairs leading to the front door of the Hard Deck and pull on the door. She glances back at him before entering and, for a moment, he considers following her back inside. He wavers on the spot before sliding his aviator back over his eyes with a smile. He turns unhurriedly, unable to contain his widening grin, and heads for his bike.

Read Chapter 7

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[stillsaltyaboutmcr]

The Crash- B.B Part 4

I finally bestow upon you an update.

This took me awhile to figure out how I was going to write this continuing from part 3

You can find parts 1-3 HERE

Hopefully this turns out well.

Warnings: Goose being a good dad, Mav being a terrible father, really emotional reunions, A CONFESSION OF FEELINGS FROM SOMEONE?? WHAT?! (hehehehehe), Tenseness (i think that’s the word to use) between Rooster and MC, and as usual….cursing.

Enjoy my friends!!

Taglist: @fandom-life-12 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

My foot tapped against the ground as I sat in the restaurant waiting by myself. Nat said they’d be here at 1 but it’s now 1:15. I was getting worried that they wouldn’t show or I had gotten the wrong time. The waiter had come up to offer me water 10 minutes ago and I felt awkward sitting alone.

I hadn’t seen Natasha or Bob since the day of the mission. Being my two best friends, I was anxious to see them again. What would they say? How would they react? What do they all know?

Just then I catch the reflection of the sun in Bob’s glasses, signaling they had arrived. 20 minutes late at that.

Natasha immediately ran over, making me jump from my chair to hug her. “Oh my god you are real.” Her voice was teary, yet full of joy. “Oh how you’ve changed. Look at you! Hangman has to be so happy you’re back.”

“About that-“

“About what?” Her eyes narrowed into a glare. “You guys are still together right?”

I grimaced, “No, I broke up with him. He expected everything to be fine when he saw I was alive but he let them bury an empty casket, you all did. I can forgive some but not all of you.”

“What about me?” Bob’s small voice appeared over Nat’s shoulder.

“Oh, sweet Bob!” I went in to hug him and noticed his eyes were red and puffy. He’d already been crying. Maybe that’s what causes the delayed arrival? “I missed you!” When I backed out of his arms I rubbed his shoulder, almost as a comfort to his tear stricken eyes.

“I missed you so much.” He smiled at me as he looked at Nat.

Lunch went smoothly, I caught them both up on everything that had happened, including Goose being alive, who Goose was, how Bradley and I are doing and all the inbetween.

“Wait, so you’re telling me your uncle who died back in the 80’s is still alive and has been living on his own hidden in the woods? That’s badass.” Nat was the one who was responding the most to my questions. Bob seemed quieter than normal. Usually when the three of us were together he’d open up and become more vocal, engaging in conversation.

“Yeah, and he took me with him to find you guys. We traveled for a year across the world to get back here. It was crazy but he’s become like a father to me.”

“What about Bradley now that you’re living with him?” I saw Bob tense up at this question, pushing his glasses up and clearing his throat.

“Well, I try to avoid him at all costs. Still as annoying as ever.”

Natasha shook her head. “That’s a shame really. I’ve always hoped you guys would get along.” Bob nudged Nat and she shot him a look.

“Anyways-“ just then the waiter brought the bill, “it’s been crazy trying to adjust. Between living with Goose and Bradley, Hangman and my dad trying to call and text me 24/7 and being back here; it’s been a roller coaster.”

Natasha quickly snagged the check and paid for all of us, despite Bob and I’s complaints. “Thank you for lunch Nat.” Bob’s first words since we hugged. His voice sounded almost unfamiliar when he spoke.

“Our best friend is back, of course I had to buy.” She shot me a smile. “We should get going though- oh hold on I gotta take this.” Her phone rang as she stepped out, leaving Bob and I alone.

“Are you really not living with your dad?”

Bobs question hung in the air for a second. It took me a moment to register that he was talking to me. “Uh, yeah. I’m really living with Goose. He’s been so generous with letting me stay with him until I’m ready to face my dad. You should meet him.”

Natasha came back in with a sad look. “Hey I got called in to work. Is there anyway you could take Bob home?” She looked at me apologetically.

“Absolutely it’s no problem at all. Come on Bob, let’s go.”

In the car, Bob was pretty silent until we turned onto his street. “Actually,” he spoke up, making me jump slightly, “sorry, I was wondering if we could go to yours? I actually do want to meet Goose.”

“That’s no problem, I’m glad. I could use some more Bob time.”

I turned around in a driveway and headed to the direction of the house Goose was letting me stay in. Pulling into the driveway, I could tell both men were home. “This is it.”

Bob and I got out and walked to the front door, and in perfect dad-like fashion, Goose opened the door before we could. “Who’s this?”

“Goose, this is Bob. We’ve flown together before. He was in the Uranium Mission.” Bob gave a small wave.

“It’s wonderful to meet you sir! She’s told me a lot about you!” His hand shot out for a handshake, but Goose’s face was stern. Bob started to back down until Goose’s mouth curved into a smile and rapidly shook Bob’s hand.

“I’m just teasing ya kid, it’s good to finally meet ya!” Bob let out a small laugh before following me in and up the stairs to my room.

“Your room is huge. My duplex on base is the size of this.”

I laughed in response, “I just got lucky that Goose claimed Brad and I. I’m not sure how that all worked considering we aren’t dependents, but somehow he scored this beautiful house. Oh! And look at my view!!” I walked to my far wall and opened the curtains to reveal a perfect view of the beach. The afternoon sun quickly warmed my room as if shone in through the panes.

“Woah, that’s gorgeous. Do you sit here and just stare?”

“I do, often. I missed it here Bob, this is my home. I grew up here. Plus, people watching is kind of fun when you can see so perfectly.” I laughed a little before turning to Bob. He seemed out of it, staring at me in a daze. “Bob, you okay-“

Before I could finish, Bob leaned in and kissed me. It was the most awkward kiss ever, but it caused my cheeks to rouge. “Bob?”

“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have listened to Natasha! She told me to just go for it and I told her I couldn’t because you’re still new to being back and I didn’t want to scare you or ruin our friendship. Im so sorry. I don’t know how to do all these feelings and emotions, Im just-“

“Bob.”

“I can’t apologize enough, I asked her for advice about this and I should’ve known what she’d say-“

“Bob!” His attention finally snapped to me and he was about to mutter an apology when I spoke up. “Don’t apologize. It was cute. You’re sweet Bob, I just don’t know if Im ready for something.” He looked down at his shoes. “But, a little word of advice. Usually going in for a random kiss isn’t the way to ask a lady out.”

He took a deep breath and looked back up at me. “Would you like to go on a date with me? No weird kissing this time.”

I smiled as I let out a laugh. “I would enjoy that.”

His shoulders dropped at my answer. “We can go as slow as you want- not like that! I mean, like you and I together, or- I mean-“

“I know what you mean Bob, it’s fine.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at it all. Bob was always a bit nervous around people, even those he was comfortable with. I reached out for his hand and held it, looking up at him. “I already said yes, you don’t have to say anything else.” His other hand grabbed mine, both of our hands intertwined when Bradley busted through the door.

“Hey Y/N- Bob? What’s going on- never mind I don’t want to know.”

“What do you want Bradshaw?” Bob jumped at my sudden change in tone.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted anything, I’m going out to pick up McDonalds for dad and I. I guess that goes for you too Bob.”

“Why are you being so nice?” I didn’t say it with malice but pure curiosity.

“He told me to come ask you.”

“Figures, I’m okay, we just came back from lunch but thanks Brad.” He smiled and nodded before leaving Bob and I laughing.

After I had driven Bob home, I had found myself on the back porch. Not doing anything in particular, just watching the sun go down. I heard the back patio door open and I turned around to find Goose coming to sit next to me. “Hey kid, whatcha doing?”

“Just watching the sunset. What brings you out here?” It was then I noticed he had a paper bag in his hand.

“I had Bradley run out again to get you dinner. I hope it’s okay.” I smiled as I opened the bag to see McDonalds chicken nuggets.

“Thanks Goose. I didn’t even realize I hadn’t eaten dinner.” He took them out as I started to pop them in my mouth one by one. “Hey, thanks again for everything. I wouldn’t be where I am now if it weren’t for you. You’re everything to me right now. You’ve done so much for me, more than my own father.”

“Y/N, I remember when your dad called me and said you were coming out early. The way Carol and I rushed to that emergency room should’ve been illegal.” He laughed. “I would do anything for you as if you were my own. It’s what your dad did for Brad, so I feel like I have to not only return the favor, but you’ve grown on me kid. You and I faces the world together, literally.”

“I appreciate you, I love ya Goose.” I leaned into his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around me for a side hug.

“I’m always here kiddo, just say the word.”

We stayed there for a moment, basking in the present. We had went from near death in the middle of enemy territory to now living back home. We were a team, and I was so thankful for him. He was the reason I made it back home, but mostly the reason I was alive.

Without him, I wouldn’t have been able to see the San Diego sunsets or bask in the warm salt water of California. I wouldn’t have been able to see my friends again or have Penny serve me up a drink at the Hard Deck.

I owe him everything.

That night, I was in my room getting ready for bed when a knock came upon my door. “Come in!” What I was not expecting was Bradley to not only come through the door, but close it and lock it behind him. “What are you doing?”

“What was that with Bob earlier?”

“None of your business.” I continued what I was doing, hoping he’d just go away if I ignored him.

He persisted. “Tell me. Are you and Bob together?”

“Again Brad, it’s none of your business.” I rolled my eyes as I turned around to go lay down.

“I’m gonna ask you one more time, what was that?” As I turned around, Bradley was face to face with me, the wall mere inches behind me. He had closed me in again.

“I should really be asking you what happened in the kitchen 2 days ago. What was th-“

In a blink of an eye, one of his hands was next to my head on the wall, the other wrapped around my throat. “Did he kiss you?”

“What?!”

“I said, did he kiss you?”

“That’s none of your-!”

“Answer the question, yes or no?”

Whatever was happening was very unlike Bradley. He was scaring me to be honest, but part of me couldn’t help but to let my eyes go down his face to his lips. I don’t know what was coming over me.

“He did but I’m not sure what that has to do with any-“

“Don’t let it happen again.”

With that he was off of me and out the door before I could even say anything more about the subject.

If I wasn’t confused in the kitchen, I am confused now.

What was up with him?

[6lack6allerina]

January 2023 Recap | Late

What I learned in January 2023:

I learned that having a mortgage, and now an employee is not allowing me to live as frivolously as I used to. I'm having to be ultra intentional with my income. Learning to cook from home. Learning to communicate more with my husband / more planning financially. January was such a grind working almost every day to catch up from Christmas.

I started to enjoy audio books more than podcasts. I spend way less time on social media and more time alone with an audio book.

While January was a grind, I took 0 photography jobs this month and that allowed me to focus solely non running my husbands business and our home (so trad I know.)

What I accomplished in January 2023:

We made time to see 1 Mavs game with friends.

We had a pretty sweet New Years Eve party.

I got our new living room painted.

Went to the gym 1-2x a week on average

(Not much happened because we were working our asses off just to recover financially from Christmas, and buying a house.)

What surprised me in January 2023:

What surprised me is the caliber of clients we have. I am finally happy for the most part about the work we're doing, and what we're getting paid. I feel good that we're able to help others spread their message through video production.

The days I remember best in January 2023:

Filming a podcast in downtown Dallas for one of our clients with the founder of Warstic Baseball Bats. It feels good to be trusted professionally to handle important interviews like this one. It's amazing looking into a room with tons of lights, and cameras knowing that we own 100% of it.

Another day was seeing the Mavs VS Clippers game in the 100's Section with our friends. The only caveat was my mood soured about halfway through it over something super trivial. It felt more real watching the game in the 100's over the usual 300's or on TV.

Cooking spaghetti and meatballs, and setting the table to watch the Mavs game with my husband. We even popped a bottle of champagne and just spent the entire evening talking, laughing, and having a great time together at the dinner table.

The person who played a huge role in my life in January 2023:

My husband! Through the entire grind of the month, no matter how exhausting. My favorite thing is hitting our bed each night, snuggling and watching tik toks before falling asleep. We're in this together, and working towards the same goals. 100% on the same page, no disagreements. I feel such a close connection and bond with my best friend. There were days were we had to eat at home instead of the usual takeout 4x a week (spoiled, I know) but I felt comfort knowing that I wasn't alone, and that it was only temporary / for the greater good. Our goal is to visit several theme parks before September 2023 and being frugal is going to help us save for these trips.

My best, and worst moment of January 2023:

My best moments have been making our house feel like a home. Especially because we didn't go out much. Making sure we're having occasional dinners at the table. Movie nights with candy and popcorn. A well made bed.

My worst moment was ruining a good time at the Mavs game. Honestly stress, and resentment got the best of me and I was irritated with my husband for 1/2 of the game. I'm realizing now how I need to take more accountability for scheduling us so busy. I need to do more to please myself, rather than trying to please my husband so much. Things feel unfair because I don't allow myself to feel spoiled.

What I wish I had done differently in January 2023:

I said yes to a work trip that 100% contributed to the stress this month. We fronted $1000 because the company would reimburse us for our travel accommodations. Even worse it was the company my husband's mom works for -so it caused a teensy bit of tension and resentment towards her. Next time I need to ask the company to pay for those things upfront.

What I stopped doing in January 2023:

I said no to photography jobs, weddings, and work that I didn't want to do. Even if I felt like I needed the money, I didn't want it to cost my peace. People were rude to me about it sometimes, but we already have dream clients who pay us what we're worth.

What I started doing in January 2023:

Like I said, I started audio books. I stopped letting the dogs sleep with us as much in order to keep my sheets clean. I started ironing my sheets lol. I started selling things I don't use on Poshmark.

Goals I'd like to achieve in February 2023:

Catch up financially

Book a Florida Trip to Busch Gardens for my Birthday

Buy Chanel Shoes for myself / birthday gift

Visit my siblings in San Antonio

Celebrate Galentine's with friends

Have a day off for Valentine's Day

[mavmax]

Zero O’Clock || Self-Para

When: Tuesday, March 30th - Wednesday, March 31st

Where: Maverick’s Apartment; Pico District

Major Warnings: Anxiety Attack, Mental Illness TW, Suicidal Ideation (HUUUGEEE TW)

Featuring: Lexa Maxwell

The last few weeks had been a whirlwind, between killing it with March Madness and school, it seemed like all was right in the world, until nightfall. Exhaustion, was most often times his excuse to avoid everyone, but he kept feeling this overwhelming sadness. Will mom get better? Will he continue hiding behind and pretending that everything’s okay for the sake of “public image”. How long will he continue to push everyone away until he was completely alone? These were the thoughts that haunted him. That kept him restless and feeling sick. He needed to pretend everything was okay on the court, and for the most part, he was able to play off his frustration and sadness as if it were nothing, but even then…it was taking a toll. 

Maybe everyone was better off without him. 

That, was the darkest his mind had ever gotten and it freaked him out. It freaked him out so much that he could feel the familiar knot forming at the back of his throat and his hands began to shake. All he could do was start crying. He hated the fact that he sunk so low, he hated he felt trapped in himself. He kept telling himself through his tears that it could be worse. How could it be worse if he just kept screaming in his head? If he felt like his world was coming down around him? He didn’t understand it all. 

He had three options at that point. He could either just do the damn thing and call it a day, who’d miss him anyways, right? Or…he could call the one person that knows the feeling all too well, or he could just go to bed and do it all again. However, he knew doing it all again would just get exhausting, tiring to the point where option one would just seem to be the only option. He sat in silence, his sobs subsiding, the numbness was settling in. He paid attention to the clock. 

11:59pm. 

He didn’t know why the time on the clock was so crucial all of a sudden, but he just stared blankly at it as the tears continued to roll down his face. He was exhausted, burnt out, tired. He hadn’t even followed Soo’s advice about talking to his family about how he was feeling. He hadn’t talked to his friends. He just threw himself into school and basketball and smiled it all away and now here he was contemplating whether he wanted to live to see another day or call it. 

12:00am.

He took a shallow breath. Grabbed his phone and went to the bathroom. He closed the door. His sobs caused him to stammer out his words as he asked Lexa to come over with the words. “I don’t feel well.” 

12:15am. 

Lexa arrived half asleep to her brother’s apartment. She had the spare key and memorized the security code to enter and walked inside. It was quiet, but there wasn’t necessarily a chilling presence, but she was worried sick. 

She continued to wander in and opened the door to his room. She took a deep breath and opened the door. 

Maverick sat on his bed, in tears, trying his best to put on a brave face for his big sister.

“Bunny,” She sighed, setting her stuff down and hugged him tightly. 

“I can’t do it anymore, Lex,” He sobbed out. “I can’t. It hurts too much. I can’t be strong.” 

All she could do was hold Maverick as tight as she could. Keep him from falling apart. 

“You don’t always have to be strong, Maverick,” She whispered. She carefully pulled away, wiping his tears and squished his face like she used to when they were younger to cheer him up. 

“It’s okay not to always be strong, or brave, but bottling all of that inside…believe me when I tell you, it’ll only do more harm than good, okay?” She explained. 

“I know,” He croaked out. 

“You’re going to get through this. I’m here, Izzy’s here. Your friends, they adore you. I mean, I hear Brandon screaming his wild cheers about your thunder thighs all the time,” She chuckled lightly. For once, this got Maverick to quirk up a small smile. 

“I’m gonna stay the night, keep an eye out for you. I’ll hide anything that’ll cause you any risk and in the meantime, I’ll make you tea, you can tell me what’s on your mind and between you, me, and Izzy, the three of us will come up with a plan to keep each other safe, and sane, okay?” Lexa pointed out. 

Mav could only nod. Lexa, as the eldest and having experienced her own attempt, knew what to do, but most importantly, she was always the protector. His and Izzy’s protector. 

“Thank you, Lex,” He sighed. “Can you not…” 

“You know I wouldn’t tell anyone. When you’re ready, you can tell your friends, but it’s never my place to tell. Rest assured,” She smiled. 

“I feel like shit for feeling that way but…I just feel like, no one really sees me, or cares, you know?” Mav sighed. 

“I get it. I felt the same way. You feel like everyone sees this misconception that they’ve painted of you, right?” 

“Yeah. Like that. I mean like, I know you and Izzy think I’m irresponsible and a nuisance—“ 

“And I also see the same kind, and caring kid with the biggest smile. You bought a whole fucking complex in Pico and kept the rent low and offered to do maintenance to save the building. You’re clever, witty, you love to make people laugh and feel comfortable, like they belong. Mav, just because you’re a pain in the ass doesn’t mean I don’t know you. I know, you’ve been through heartbreaks and heartaches and you choose to bury that down. Now it’s all coming up. You just…have to let it flow.” 

“I didn’t think it’d hurt this much.” 

“No one ever does. It takes experience do to so.” 

“Fucking sucks.” 

“I know. But, it doesn’t mean I care about you any less. You’re still a chaotic menace to society, but you’re my brother above all else,” Lexa smiled and pulled Mav into a big hug. Mav hugged Lexa tightly and sighed. Feeling like a weight had lifted. 

“Hey Lex?” He asked while still hugging her. 

“Yeah?” 

“I think I might need someone to talk to,” He admitted. 

“And that’s okay. You need help finding one?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay. We’ll do that too, as soon as you’re ready.” 

“After March Madness?” 

“We’ll do that, sure. In the meantime,” Lexa pulled away. “Talk to your friends. Call Blaine, smash some shit. Hang out and flirt with Soo. Have a self care sleepover with Minjoon and Brandon. Fix your laptop with Jian again, but talk to them. Don’t isolate yourself, okay?” 

“I promise,” He said. 

“Good. Now,” She ruffled his hair. “Let me go clean. Follow me to the kitchen and we’ll have tea and you can go to bed. Big game tomorrow!” 

[crassussativum]

Day 5: Beloved

Oc-Tober

Another one for @oc-growth-and-development

Terminus, recent past: 2187

“You comin’ or what?” Mav drawled, leaning against the door frame with a hand on his hip and his mandibles slanted. 

Ailuros- still wiggling back into his clothes- gave him a look over his shoulder. “This is like... really against the rules, Mavi.”

“So? A lil’ rule breakin’ is good for the Spirit.” He flashed his teeth as his mandibles spread a little further in a grin. “And a real meal will be good for you.”

The boy pulled on a sweater. “Where are you taking me that’s got real food?”

“Er, well, that part’s a surprise. Once we get outta here, I’ma blindfold you.”

Ailuros gave him a coy little smile. “I liked the last time you blindfolded me.”

Mav’s mandibles fluttered and color raced up his throat. The blindfold this time was more for practicality than for play. He couldn’t exactly have the boy knowing what his ship looked like, but he definitely liked where Ailuros’ mind was at. “Yeah? Stow that thought for now, we’ll come back to it later.” He held his hand out for the boy to take.

...

They sneaked out of the brothel together, Mav making sure none of the bouncers saw him take the boy out a delivery door. Then, pulling him into an alcove, he secured the blindfold over Ailuros’ eyes and took his hand again, promising that it wasn’t far and he wouldn’t let the boy walk into anything. He already had everything ready back at his ship, and he guided the boy inside and to the meager little kitchen, helping him to sit at one of the table’s chairs.

“So you can take that off if you wanna,” He said, giving a little tug to the blindfold before heading to the stove to cook. “This won’t take me long.”

Ailuros took the blindfold off and looked around. “Mavi?” He trilled confusion.

Mav looked over his shoulder as he got the fish and veggies in the steaming basket all set and ready to go. “Er, right. So... this is my ship.” And also partially stupid to bring the boy here but Spirits. “And... I’m cookin’ for you. Just a treat, y’know? Thought you could do without junk food and the hangover remedies at the brothel for once, yeah?”

By the look on Ailuros’ face, something that danced between shock and worry and incredulous-ness, Mav was starting to think maybe this wasn’t a good idea. And not just because it was coming awfully close to blowing his cover. He tapped his talons on the stove, a quick, nervous beat. Fuck, Ailuros wasn’t saying anything. Had he crossed a line?

“You can cook?” The boy finally asked. “Like actually cook? Not the just add water crap but like... really cook?”

Mav blinked a few times. “Er... yeah. O’course.” He gestured behind him. “I got some Parthian fish for finishin’ a job the other day, some real nice veggies too. Reckon the client thought I was too skinny or somethin’, paid me half in food and half in credits. I wasn’t gonna complain, y’know?”

Ailuros trilled again. “It’s real fish? Not vat grown?”

“Yeah, it’s real. Was swimmin’ not all that long ago.” He flicked his mandibles in a grin.

Another trill and Mav almost fell back against the stove as Ailuros flew at him and wrapped his arms tight around his neck. Then he was getting kisses all over his fringe and face and a soft nuzzle too.

“So good surprise, yeah?” He chuckled warmly, grinning at Ailuros and just holding him in his arms, pretty easy when they were both on the small side for turians. 

The boy smiled, his violet eyes so bright. “Best surprise, Mavi. Really.” 

[flightsrsk]

hello hello all !!! my name is riley and this is my actual trash son maverick, aka the flight risk !!! i am so so hyped to get the ball rollin on this, so check out info on my kid under ze cut !!

warning: this got rlly mcfreaking long and i am so sorry fjdklsjs i am incapable of writing a short intro post

unfortunately i will not be able to be around for the official opening bc i’m on vacation w my fam and godparents, but i will try and intermittently read intros and chat to you guys about plots !!!! PLS feel free to bombard me through IMs or through discord if any plot sparks ur interest or u think mav could fit well in one of ur plots!!! :’)

THE BASICS

Name: Maverick Hobbes Braxton

Age: Twenty-one

Gender: Cismale

Pronouns: He/Him

Major & year: Philosophy, Third year

Faceclaim: Alex Fitzalan

Occupation: N/A

THE FLIGHT RISK

Maverick Braxton, as you might see, is an enigma—or rather, has evolved into one, slowly: a transformation that begun with his first breath. In his early years, the stage had been set for him, line by line. Act One: attend prep schools, excel in classes. Act Two: attend Covington, take center stage—you know, all of the things his older brother, Richard had accomplished with ease, just one year prior to all of his expectations. It was simple, really: a blueprint laid out ahead of him, with little to nothing in his way.

The only problem was that Maverick didn’t exactly see the point in choosing that path, that stage, that story. To him, it wasn’t challenging.

That, and the fact that the life laid out in front of him offered him absolutely nothing.

A series of banal expectations, unfair comparisons, and heartbreaking betrayals, and the traditional life of the Braxton child was thrown out the window—at least, in his brain, it was. See, Maverick Braxton, while independent, coy, and arrogant, isn’t stupid. He knows if he pleases his parents just enough, they’ll still distribute his trust fund and still bail him out of legal trouble when he inevitably tiptoes too far down the delicate line between ambition and rebellion. Perhaps it’s a bit selfish, but what does he owe to a family who paid him no attention, who never asked of his well-being, his own ambitions, his personal dreams?

He’s the kind of person to drive down the highway, windows rolled all the way down, cigarette lit—not because he necessarily likes the taste of nicotine, but because he likes the way the smoke creates clouds that obscure reality. He’ll surprise you in class when he interjects with a sarcastic but surprisingly salient point before throwing up his hood and retreating to the back corner for the rest of class. He’s the kind of person to start reading a book, flipping incessantly through the pages, both impatient by the pace of the plot, yet put it down before he reaches the final pages because he doesn’t want to be disappointed by the ending. He’s the kind of artist who rarely finishes a sketch, the writer who is never satisfied by a poem—for fear, of course, by deep-rooted insecurities that nothing that he will ever do will be enough.

A once-broken heart had taken time to mend, even though it seems ice-cold and whole from the outside. It’s why he has commitment issues: he doesn’t want to be burned again. He plays off his flirtatious bit as a personality trait, someone who is bored by the prospect of being tied down—and yet those who share his bed might consider him Covington’s most surprisingly deep pillow-talker.

An enigma, you see—one who doesn’t stick around long enough for anyone to truly understand, truly a Flight Risk.

BIOGRAPHY:

( You can read his full biography here! Still in the process of editing it a bit, but below are some important bullet points! )

Maverick was born the second of three children to the Braxton family—and as per usual with the Braxton children, he was born into a life filled to the absolute brim of expectation.

His father, a playwright, his mother, an actress. His brother, a theatre prodigy—what part did that leave him to play? The assumed expectations were to follow in his mother and brothers’ footsteps and take center stage; he excelled, for a while, but Maverick always felt lost.

Neighbors and family friends would always ask if he had measured up, in each and every shape and form: it was like the entire universe had a scoreboard with their names titling each section, and Maverick was always playing catch-up, never knowing where the finish line was.

For a while, he stuck to the script that was given to him: study, succeed, repeat. He tried to understand the ins and outs of his father’s work, of masterful acting techniques, trying to make a large enough splash to where his family would even notice the work he put into his life. Surprise: it didn’t.

It took him seventeen years to truly understand that his role in life was not exactly the story his parents had laid out for him, but rather, his sibling, instead.

Downcast emotions transformed quickly into cynicism. What used to make him feel sad now fueled a blue fire within Maverick’s chest, one that felt wronged by the system he was placed in: a complete first-world problem, but it was then and there when he decided to take advantage of his situation, given that he had spent his entire life dedicated to a part he wouldn’t play.

Hypocritical as he was, he still enjoyed the fruits of his parents’ work, cashing the unlimited checks with his name on them, as if it was some sort of sick version of love.

One piece of recognition that Maverick finally earned was an acceptance to Covington—and even that couldn’t be tainted by his brother’s success or his legacy status.

At Covington, Maverick has both lost and found his footing, multiple times. He’s quit acting, quit studying theater, in favor of a topic that stimulates his brain more than reading lines and

PERSONALITY:

Maverick Braxton is certainly a paradox. He’s charismatic, funny, and has a witty sense of humor –– and is generally appreciated by his peers because he’s able to move conversation and discussion without making topics seem dry.

Despite his apparent inferiority to his sibling, the Braxton family still breeds the cream of the crop. He’s certainly a bit arrogant sometimes, given that he’s intelligent, innovative, and clever, and wants to be recognized for it –– however, even if he might not show it on the outside, he appreciates a good challenger. He thinks it keeps his wit sharp, and of course, his ego would never show it, but he does appreciate learning from people. After all, his passion in philosophy, his current area of study, makes him certainly interested in how the world works.

Those who happen to get to know Maverick outside of the surface-level stuff, outside the initial cockiness and flirtatious front he puts on will know that he’s actually quite thoughtful. His lonely childhood has made him extremely loyal to those who have shown him similar trust and friendship –– he would never turn his back on them.

He asks probing questions, is a good listener –– perhaps because he’s interested in human decision making, but is also because he doesn’t quite know what it’s like to be loved unconditionally –– though he wants to.

Deep down, what almost no one knows is that he’s really quite soft. He passes his curiosity off as wanting to understand people, when really it’s a mechanism for hoping someone asks him questions in return, to give him the time of day he wished his parents ( and the rest of the goddamned universe ) had given him.

Despite his theatre prowess, he isn’t actually a particularly good liar. Those who spend enough time around him can hear his tone of voice incline slightly and see him scratch his brow.

AESTHETICS:

coffee-stained mugs, walking with headphones in but nothing playing, untied shoelaces, black hoodies, a cheeky smirk, small books in his back pocket, writing in the margins, unfinished poems, quoting old authors on a daily basis, incessant eye-rolling, pen ink stains, an unmade bed, mismatched socks, floral ties, empty bottles of liquor, rose thorn pricks, old worn poetry books, polished dress shoes, calloused fingers, unlit cigarettes between teeth.

HEADCANONS:

Funnily enough, Maverick’s name means ‘independent, a noncomformist’, which is exactly the path that he has taken to stray away from his family’s expectations.

He does have one strong connection to his family, though: his grandmother, on his father’s side. She understands the pressure he undergoes, who saw the pressure Maverick’s father endured to obtain the success he has. She is one of the only reasons that Maverick has not just jetted off to take on his own adventure. He loves her dearly, and wishes that her empathy and wisdom would rub off on the rest of his family.

Maverick has some form of synesthesia, which allows him to remember a lot more than the average person. He associates colors, smells, sounds, to words –– and allows him to efficiently study any subjects he doesn’t have immediate passion for.

In the privacy of his own bedroom, he sometimes writes poetry and sketches his thoughts and muses –– when he knows he’s in complete privacy. Faces and features that appear in his sketchbooks are often those he’s thinking of often, those who intrigue him. He’s actually quite good a sketching, maybe not quite as good at writing poetry.

His room is spotless –– evidence that he is a bit of a control freak sometimes. It shows that during his adolescence, he reveled in the parts of his life that he could control and perfect.

tw drugs. He more than dabbles in drug use, smoking marijuana maybe every other day, while partaking in harder drugs like cocaine and adderall and others probably once a week. He feels like he’s in control of his use, but it may start to get the best of him. end tw.

Maverick is left-handed. He hates that he gets pen ink stains when he draws, writes poetry, takes notes. His left palm is probably perennially covered with ink.

Though he’s often wearing headphones ( airpods, of course, the nerve of this rich kid ), half the time, nothing’s playing. Sometimes he forgets to press play on his phone, sometimes he purposely likes listening to decision-making and conversations of strangers. it lets him think about the nature of mankind.

Maverick’s favorite philosopher is Albert Camus, known for his work that heavily developed the idea of absurdism ( much to do with the meaning of life, and human inability to discern an answer ).

Maverick’s preferred method of transportation is his skateboard. he loved it first because his parents hated it: pushing himself around on a board like that would get him injured—besides, why not just take the car to school, the driver had been paid for anyway? It was his first taste of rebellion. Now at Covington, where skateboarding is far more efficient than walking across campus, it comes in handy when he sees someone he’d rather not stop and chat to.

Maverick could die with a poetry book nestled on his chest—it’s the one thing he got out of the impressive book collection his family owned. There was something daunting and beautiful about the way poems would transform metaphors into something fantastical, like the emotions were clearly there, but the words were skirting the issue. Kind of like how his parents would never really tell him they loved him.

Maverick often has headphones in when he walks to class. not particularly because he’s actually listening to music or a podcast, but rather because he’d just … rather not be bothered to stop and talk to people.

Maverick loves to draw. He’s mostly self-taught, with a bit of mentorship from his high school art teacher. Evidenced by the rest of his fleeting personality, he rarely finishes a sketch or painting. He claims he never has time to finish them, but the number of crumbled-up, half-finished sketches in his trash bin might say otherwise.

PLOTS

** see my wanted plots tag here too! // and my plots page here !!

* FIRST LOVE / OPEN.

It wouldn’t be easy to make Maverick feel like even more of a disappointment than he already had with his parents, his family—but your muse proved this feeling wrong. He loved them, more than he’d ever loved anything before. In the midst of confusion about where he belonged, he felt safe with your muse; he’d do anything for them. Things ended, he felt betrayed ( though the break-up could have easily been due to a fault of his ), and the split made him the one who now struggles fully with commitment. He doesn’t want to have his heart broken again. See: this entire pinterest board.

but also if u give me this ……………… i’ll name my firstborn after u

* BEST FRIEND / OPEN.

Those who go through similar childhood traumas are often able to understand each other –– that was how it worked with Maverick and your muse, at least. They’re thick as thieves — and have likely seen the ups and downs of Maverick’s life in real time.

* CHILDHOOD FRIENDS / OPEN.

Self explanatory—and also probably knows about the pressures the Braxton family imposes on their children.

* EX-FRIENDS / OPEN.

Friends who were close, close no longer. Maverick’s a real piece of work, and an asshole, too—there are myriad possibilities for why Maverick could have pushed them away. He wouldn’t openly admit that he misses being around your muse, but he certainly would feel a bit of guilt given that they’re no longer the closest of friends.

* MOMENT OF WEAKNESS / OPEN.

Your muse, in whatever unfortunate setting, saw a glimpse of Maverick’s soft side that hardly ever makes an appearance. He’s not going to let them tell the world about his vulnerabilities, though. Not a chance.

* DISLIKED / OPEN.

Maverick is sarcastic, cold, and sometimes emotionless. It’s not surprising that not everyone gets along with the middle Braxton. The possibilities are endless—throw in some sexual tension and I’d actually fall at ur feet.

* PREVIOUS ROOMMATES / OPEN.

Your muse, at one point, probably knew Maverick better than everyone else at Covington. They overheard some of his phone calls with his parents, saw his notes for how he was to achieve his life goals, heard him crying in the middle of the night when he thought your muse was asleep. They could be extremely close now, as in one of the few people Maverick opens up to, or could be distant friends who know about one anothers’ struggles. The possibilities are endless, tbh.

+ ANYTHING LEGITIMATELY ……… IF U THINK THERE’S POSSIBILITY FOR SOMETHING COOL W MAV AND UR MUSE. SIGN ME THE F UP. THANKS.

[tressieandmavreth]

Get Up (Pt. III of IV)

[[tl;dr: Tressie and Mav’reth go out for an evening of romance and gladiatorial bloodsport on Nar Shaddaa, and they end up participating a bit more than they had bargained for. *** CW: Language, violence. *** Written by @tehlaen, who plays Mav’reth; Tressie belongs to @carasilvaart​.]]

The dim lamps of the combination fighting pit and dive bar painted Mav’s gleaming white teeth the shade of freshly gushing arterial blood. It was, she reflected with her lips curled in a  predatory grin, a look that really did it for her.

Eyes followed them, heads turned and the crowd split before them. The two strolled through the path that opened for them, eyes sliding over faces and seemingly unaware of--or, more likely, uninterested in--the attention. Tressie’s long legs set a leisurely pace, leading Mav’reth to their seats--or rather, the seats they intended to have. Mav’reth’s hand rested lightly in the crook of the elbow that Tressie gallantly offered her. Her fingers tightened in an affectionate squeeze, and Tressie turned her head and gave her a beaming smile.

A human, a Twi’lek, and a pair of Rodians were in their seats in the front row of the middle terrance. The Purebloods stopped in front of them and waited. Mav looked from one to the next, regarding them from under hooded lids, like a carnivore idly considering whether the morsels in front of her were worth the effort.

Tressie gave them an expectant look--though her patience started to run out as the seats’ present occupants exchanged wary looks. After almost a full minute of the silent discussion, the gangster cleared her throat pointedly.

“Ya mind? Yer in the lady’s seat.” Citrine eyes gave them a hard stare. The standoff stretched for a handful of heartbeats, and Mav’reth glanced around, an expression of boredom on her face. Those other spectators sitting nearby were watching with bated breath to see how the confrontation would unfold.

Tressie’s voice dropped to a dangerous octave and she growled, “Get. Up.”

The human held her gaze for another heartbeat and a half. Then she and her friends scrambled to make themselves scarce.

Mav’reth favored Tressie with an adoring smile. “Thank you, my darling.”

“Anything for a Lady,” she shot back with a grin.

Mav’reth stifled a sigh of disappointment around the rim of the glass. Te first three bouts had been unremarkable at best. She pondered idly whether that was intentional--a play, perhaps, to sell more of the overpriced, watered-down rotgut that was the bar’s stock in trade. Watching over-the-hill, half-blind  akk dogs get butchered--slowly--by an equally past-her prime Mandalorian who hadn’t had the grace to die in honorable combat would likely be far more entertaining if one were suffering the early stages of alcohol poisoning. 

The Wookiee from the second fight was similarly underwhelming. Normally, Mav’reth appreciated Wookiees’ primal savagery and brutal strength, but the poor beast had long ago lost both. It had virtually been a mercy-killing when the iknayid punched its heart out through its spine.

She sighed softly again and tucked herself under Tressie’s arm, and Tressie gave her a squeeze. Her chinspurs twitched as her lips curled down in a frown. “Ya look bored, love. Ya wanna say ‘fuck it’ and leave?”

Mav’s lips pursed as she considered. Just as she opened her mouth to reply, the lights went down again and spotlights bracketed three figures on the bloody sand in the middle of the arena.

“This looks promising,” Mav’reth murmured in Tressie’s ear as the announcer’s voice boomed from hidden speakers.

“And now, dear sentients and fight-fans of impeccable taste… Our Main Event!” The dim hum of conversation in the stands surged into cheers--not, Mav’reth mused, as much as one might expect. She thought it likely quite a few of their fellow spectators were as disillusioned as the two of them and didn’t have high hopes.

“Our undercard fighters have got the pit sands hot and bloody for our stars! Sentients, are you ready to see our prize fingers kill and bleed for your entertainment?!”

The crowd roared, and Mav’reth added her own primal scream to the bloodthirsty chorus. Tressie jumped and stared wide-eyed at the Sith, and Mav answered her with a sharp, toothy grin and a feral gleam in her eyes. “Don’t pretend it doesn’t get your pulse racing, too,” she purred and gave Tressie a hooded, heated look.

Tressie just laughed and shook her head, and they turned their attention back to the arena.

“Here’s what’s in store for our champions tonight, sentients and gentlebeings! Three challengers, one purse, seven waves of rabid, starving-mad beasts… and a hundred ways to die, each more horrifying than the last!”

Mav’reth gave Tressie a smile and her teeth shone white in the dim gloom. Tressie’s arm settled around her shoulders and the Sith nestled against the gangster’s side.

“Now let’s meet our challengers! Hailing from the ass-end of nothing and nowhere, Kohnir climbed the ranks of the Republic’s elite Special Forces, where he offed so many Imps that they put a price on his head--a bounty that still holds the record for an Imperial contract on an individual Republic soldier. How’s that for a gladiatorial pedigree?!

“The Pubs kicked him out--dishonorably, they said--for brutality. Well, here on Nar Shaddaa, we aren’t squeamish about brutality, are we?!”

The spectators screamed their denial. This time, Tressie’s voice rose to join Mav’s, and the two shared a wicked grin.

“Neither’s Clan Vizla! When their warriors came to collect the bounty, he collected their skulls instead… and won adoption into the clan through combat! Mandos might be creazier than a shit-house rat, but they ain’t stupid, and they know a talent for killin’ when they see it!”

Kohnir sprang into the air on a silver flame from his jetpack, then pirouetted with a ribbon of fire gushing from his wrist-mounted flamethrower. At the apogee of his climb, he tucked into a forward flip, then dove for the ground. He slammed to the sand, a concussive charge detonating as he landed. He rose to his feet and thrust his fists into the air, sand falling back to the ground and cheers washing over him in waves.

The spotlight on the Mandalorian dimmed and focus shifted to a woman wearing white- and bronze-colored armor that looked too big and unwieldy for her slight frame. The ease with which it moved with her as she twirled the lightsaber-pike around her body and over her head removed any doubt that she was accustomed to it.

“The Eternal Empire sure as shit wasn’t, but our next fighter might just be! Aubriena served--and survived!--Arcann and his even-crazier sister Vaylin, first as a Knight of Zakuul and then as a Horizon Guard! Sure, she could go back and hang up her saber, but war runs in her blood! And if she’s gonna die with her boots on… She might as well get kriffin’ rich, right?!”

The announcer introduced the third fighter, but Mav’reth only paid the barest of attention. Out of the corner of her eye, a flash of orange and red drew her gaze, and she casually glanced over. It could have been coincidence: a human, a Rodian and a Gamorrean striding in like they owned the place, wearing the colors of one of Tressie’s crew’s chief rivals on this level. Tressie followed Mav’s gaze and the Sith could feel her lover tense up.

Not coincidence, then.

Mav’reth slipped her arm around Tressie’s waist and patted her stomach gently. “Pay them no mind, darling, not tonight.”

Tressie looked down at her and forced her scowl to curl into an unconvincing smile. “Sure, Mav. Whatever you say.”

Mav’reth turned her attention back to the announcer’s explanation of the night’s entertainment. “...Just one prize, winner takes all! Do they take out the competition early, or run the risk of bein’ outnumbered, overrun and eliminated with no support? Take a look at these savage beasts, sentients and gentlebeings, and tell me if you’d wanna face ‘em alone!”

Holographic images of the beasts in their cages sprang to life above the arena. Mav’s eyes dilated and her breath hitched in delectable anticipation. She felt her mouth water, her pulse race, and her tongue move of its own accord over the sharp points of her teeth. The promise of violence made her hot and tight between her legs, and her fingers curled, clutching at Tressie. Her lover chuckled softly  as Mav’s eyes fixed on the nightmarishly-lethal monsters, and a moan--equal parts lust and bloodlust--slipped from her lips.

“Excited for the fight?” Tressie teased.

Mav’s eyes flicked to Tressie’s and her lover almost flinched with the intensity of her smoldering look. “For the fight, and for after, my love,” she purred in a voice like liquid velvet.

[sycriptouk]

Dogecoin Community Baffled Over Cuban’s Claims He Holds Just $500 In DOGE https://bitcoinist.com/dogecoin-community-baffled-over-cubans-claims-he-holds-just-500-in-doge/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=dogecoin-community-baffled-over-cubans-claims-he-holds-just-500-in-doge

Billionaire investor and owner of the Dallas Mavericks, Mark Cuban, stunned crypto Twitter by claiming he holds just $500 worth of Dogecoin.

The Mavs have what we sold in merch. I personally own $494 worth of DOGE

— Mark Cuban (@mcuban) August 15, 2021

Cuban is a significant proponent and vocal supporter of the controversial meme token. So much so, many naturally assume he is a DOGE whale.

But, regardless of “propping up” Dogecoin, most famously by accepting DOGE as payment for Mavs tickets and merch, his personal DOGE holdings make up just a tiny proportion of his overall net worth. Which, according to Forbes, currently comes in at $4.4 billion.

Cuban Claims He’s No Dogecoin Whale

The surprising revelation came about during a Twitter thread where Cuban discussed the viability of investing in Dogecoin.

Replying to actor Joel Heyman, best known for his role in the science fiction series Red vs. Blue, Cuban said investing in DOGE makes you part of a fun community. He also took the opportunity to hit out at Bitcoin maxis in the same tweet.

“Joel. that applies to everything. Supply and demand is undefeated. But with DOGE you can spend $1 to own 333 DOGE and have fun as part of a fun community. The BTC maxis experience and do the same thing. They just have a different kind of fun. They like to yell at people.”

With the DOGE price around $0.33, it’s likely Cuban made a typo by omitting the decimal point in “333 DOGE,” intending to write 3.33.

A Twitter user by the handle @Sacamonnai dived in by asking Cuban whether he holds more BTC or DOGE. Cuban then responded by dropping the unexpected bombshell that he personally holds less than $500 in Dogecoin.

The Community Reacts

The community response to this disclosure encompasses the full spectrum of emotions. But overall, there is a general sense of shock at the claim.

One user pointed out the paradox of pushing the Dogecoin narrative while having virtually zero exposure. This, he added, is even more unbelievable considering both Cuban, and fellow billionaire Dogecoin supporter Elon Musk, have a loyal, and arguably impressionable, following.

“Hahahahahahhahaha. There’s people that put a large percentage of their life savings into doge because of people like you and Elon and then you come out and say you owe 400 bucks worth lmao what a world.”

Another user implied Cuban had understated his holdings as a strategy to keep the SEC from prying into his personal affairs. In any case, it isn’t a big deal considering Cuban’s status and wealth means he doesn’t act per the behaviors of everyday people.

He can get in trouble with the SEC if he holds too much doge and talk about it all the time. He is also a billionaire and does not need more money. Mark appears to be addicted to winning and not money at this point in his life. he is a fan of doge coin, simple as that.

— Tommy Mustache #❤️❤️❤️ (@MustacheTommy) August 16, 2021

Some speculate Elon Musk has (so far) escaped SEC investigation over his infamous market-moving Dogecoin tweets because the organization never paid him.

Being paid to promote a cryptocurrency has vastly different connotations versus someone who (seemingly) has no direct financial motivation to do so.

Musk admits holding a large, yet undisclosed, sum of Dogecoin.

Source: DOGEUSDT on TradingView.com

[junker-town]

How Christian Wood saved his NBA career and turned into a star for the Pistons

Wood went undrafted. He was cut by four teams. Now he’s finally having a breakout season for Detroit.

Christian Wood’s NBA career was hanging on by a thread. He had been cut by the Philadelphia 76ers (the first time) so they could bring back Elton Brand. He was waived by the Milwaukee Bucks so they could sign Pau Gasol. The Pelicans let him go following the Anthony Davis trade when they were forced to clear roster space for so many new players and draft picks.

Wood was onto his fifth team in four years as he showed up to Detroit Pistons training camp on a partially guaranteed contract. He would battle for the 15th and final spot on the roster with Joe Johnson, the 38-year-old guard coming off an MVP run in the Big 3. Johnson was fighting to prolong his NBA career; Wood was fighting to prove he ever belonged in the first place. If Wood didn’t stick in the league this time, it was impossible to know when or if he’d get another chance.

It’s inevitable that talent falls through the cracks in a league that only has room for 450 players. Wood knows this as well as anyone. A former top-100 recruit, Wood chose to play his college ball at UNLV. He would declare for the draft after a breakout sophomore year, with some outlets (including this one) projecting him as a first round pick. Instead, Wood saw his stock plummet in pre-draft workouts, showing up out of shape (with nearly 15 percent body fat) and with questions about his ability to buy-in to what an organization wanted from him.

He sat through 60 picks of the 2015 NBA Draft without hearing his name. A photo of him processing his heartbreak became one of the defining images of draft night.

This is about the saddest picture from an NBA Draft you'll ever see -- Christian Wood realizing he's going undrafted. pic.twitter.com/be7ttxLBuT

— Gary Parrish (@GaryParrishCBS) June 26, 2015

Wood always had the tools to be an NBA player — blessed with a 7’3 wingspan, bouncy athleticism, and a smooth shooting stroke. He was simply raw and unpolished in a league that doesn’t have much patience.

This has been the year that he’s finally put it all together. Yes, Wood beat out Joe Johnson for the Pistons’ final roster spot, but he’s also done so much more: at this point, he might be Detroit’s best player and greatest hope to develop a future star. That is provided the team can keep him: Wood is going to be an unrestricted free agent this summer, and he’s likely to get paid.

Since Detroit dumped Andre Drummond at the trade deadline, Wood has been nothing short of spectacular. In his last 12 games, he’s averaging 22 points and 10.2 rebounds per game on 54 percent shooting from the field and 37.3 percent shooting from three-point range. The stretch included a new career-high of 29 points against Oklahoma City, which he happened to break again the very next game against Utah by scoring 30.

This has been another lost season for the Pistons, the emergence of Wood is a real bright spot. This is how Wood’s breakthrough season finally came to fruition.

Wood is the total package on offense for a modern big man

Wood got his first real opportunity for NBA minutes with the Pelicans at the end of last year while Anthony Davis sat out amid his trade demand. He responded by playing like ... a rough facsimile of Anthony Davis. Even though it was only an eight-game stretch at the end of the season, Wood averaged 17 points and eight rebounds in 23 minutes per night. He’s carried that with him to Detroit.

Wood does not have a hole in his offensive game — he can do everything a front court player can be reasonably asked to do. Want a big man who can roll to the hoop and finish at the basket? Wood ranks in the 95th percentile as a roll man this season, grading out as “excellent” in such situations by Synergy Sports. Rudy Gobert still doesn’t know what hit him.

Christian Wood incoming! pic.twitter.com/1OyLFhN1kJ

— NBA TV (@NBATV) March 8, 2020

Want a big man who can pop out the three-point line and stretch the floor? Wood can do that, too. He currently ranks the 85th percentile on spot-ups (which also grades out as “excellent) and is hitting 37.5 percent of his threes on the season. He’s even starting to shoot off the dribble:

*George Blaha voice* Christian Wood for the long gun...and it goes!#PistonsNow powered by @RocketFiber pic.twitter.com/8PCliDShAU

— Detroit Pistons (@DetroitPistons) December 7, 2019

Want a big man who can crash the glass after missed shots and get easy points? Wood ranks in the 85th percentile on putbacks, too. Perhaps the most special part of Wood’s offensive arsenal is his ability to put the ball on the floor and create offense for himself. How many 6’10 bigs are attacking a close-out like this?

Christian Wood with an out of nowhere baseline dunk and then a tech for taunting his own bench. pic.twitter.com/jH5GvR7Wb5

— Tas Melas (@TasMelas) November 5, 2019

On the season, Wood is averaging 1.152 points per possessions, which ranks in the 94th percentile of the league. He hasn’t always had the minutes or opportunity to show the full extent of his talent, but when he’s on the court, there haven’t been many bigs better on the offensive end.

Wood is having a major impact on his team

Wood isn’t just putting up empty numbers — he’s thriving in every on-court and all-in-one metric there is that captures performance in relation to team success.

The Pistons have a net-rating of -3.3 as a team this year. Wood is the only full-time player with a positive individual net-rating. He’s at a +2.2 in his minutes this year.

Wood is also crushing it in just about every advanced metric this season. He ranks No. 21 in the entire league in this cumulative version of the catch-all stats, ahead of Kemba Walker, Paul George, Pascal Siakam, Devin Booker, and plenty more.

If you sort every NBA player w/ 500+ MIN on March 9 by the AVERAGE OF THEIR RANKS in 12 catch-alls (RPM, RAPTOR, BPM, PIPM, PIE and GmSc/36, as well as cumulative versions of each), this is the top 30... pic.twitter.com/rev7U9tZJU

— Andy Bailey (@AndrewDBailey) March 9, 2020

The secret to Wood’s success? That he rarely misses when he shoots. He has an enormous 65.4 true shooting percentage and makes 63 percent of his two-point field goal attempts. While he isn’t known for his defense, he also isn’t terrible on that end, either.

His length, quickness and competitiveness at least gives him an opportunity to deter shots at the rim.

I don't think anyone will block Giannis the rest of the season as monstrously as Christian Wood did here pic.twitter.com/aR92BMaFz8

— Mavs Draft (@MavsDraft) February 21, 2020

Wood is in for a payday in free agency

Where does Wood fit into the Pistons’ long-term plans? He should be at the forefront. Along with rookie Sekou Doumbouya, Wood could be part of a real rebuild in Detroit. He already knows what the home fans want to hear.

#Pistons Christian Wood on physical play: "I play in Detroit, so I gotta bring that Detroit grit and I'm gonna bring that every time. I did it last game; I'm gonna do it today and every other game I play in."

— Rod Beard (@detnewsRodBeard) March 9, 2020

The Pistons will have a high lottery pick in the draft where they will ideally land a playmaking point guard (LaMelo Ball, anyone?). Can Wood play center? He’s mostly played the four this season, but that’s also Doumbouya’s best spot. Don’t forget about Blake Griffin, either, who does his best work at the four and had a tremendous season last year before injuries sidelined him for most of this season.

Wood should be looking at an eight-figure annual salary in free agency. Unfortunately for him, there aren’t many teams with that type of cap space. The Pistons do have money to spend, though, and keeping Wood should be their top priority.

Development in the NBA doesn’t happen overnight. Christian Wood is proof of that.

[dnowit41]

The Dirk Nowitzki stories: An oral history of the Mavericks legend

-James Herbert

Before a Dallas Mavericks practice in January, Dirk Nowitzki lined up for a race with Dennis Smith Jr. The 40-year-old started at half court, the 21-year-old at the baseline.

3 … 2 … 1 … Smith took off. Nowitzki did not.

"He was like, 'Nah, not ready. Not ready. Let's get to practice,'" Mavericks forward Ryan Broekhoff said.

Smith does not buy the idea that Nowitzki wasn't warmed up.

"It took him too long to start," Smith said. "I accelerated quicker than he did. Once he seen that, he looked back. He was like, 'Oh, he's behind me.' He just gave it up. Smart."

The genesis of the race, according to Smith, who is now with the New York Knicks: "He was in the locker room selling woof tickets basically, saying everybody say he moves slow, and this, that and the third. He bet $10,000 in a foot race that nobody will beat him if he starts at halfcourt and they start from full court. So I came in there and I heard. I got wind of it and I took the bet immediately, and of course I won the bet two times. And he ain't pay my money yet. So this summer, I'ma probably go shake him down in Dallas."

Before any summer shakedown, the Mavericks will celebrate Nowitzki's career at their final home game of the season Tuesday. Nowitzki has not officially announced that he intends to retire, but during the stretch run, owner Mark Cuban told CBS Sports, "It's really just starting to hit me that he only has a few weeks left." Dallas will finish things off Wednesday in San Antonio.

Over the course of Nowitzki's 21st season, more than 30 people who have been around him -- current and former teammates, opponents, Mavericks staff -- participated in interviews for this oral history to capture how the superstar from Würzburg made his mark in Dallas and beyond.

"Why do people want my autograph?"

Mavericks general manager Donnie Nelson scouted Nowitzki and coached him at the 1998 Nike Hoop Summit. Nelson saw a "long, tall, skinny German drink of water," and took a liking to his shooting ability and competitiveness. Nowitzki had skipped a playoff game with the DJK Würzburg X-Rays, the second-division team in his hometown, in order to be in San Antonio. It paid off.

"The Hoop Summit, I guess you can call it his American Idol coming out party, where in front of pretty much every GM at the time he erupted and scored 30-plus points," Nelson said. "And did so in spectacular fashion."

Dallas acquired the No. 9 pick in the 1998 draft to select him even though Paul Pierce-- also ranked in the Mavs' top three -- was unexpectedly available. An apprehensive, perhaps even reluctant Nowitzki came to Dallas several months later, at the conclusion of the NBA's lockout. He and third-year guard Steve Nash, acquired in a trade from Phoenix, sported bleached blond hair at their introductory press conference. "I thought a couple members of the Beach Boys got lost," Nelson said.

Greg Buckner, Mavericks wing, 1999-2002; 2006-07: People were booing him in Reunion Arena. People were upset with Nellie for drafting him and making the trade for Tractor Traylor.

Donnie Nelson, Mavericks assistant coach and director of scouting, 1997-2002; general manager, 2002-present: We were like eight years in the Bataan Death March, the Maverick walk in the desert, where we hadn't made the playoffs.

Greg Buckner: It was a weird year. It was a lockout year. The season then didn't start until January. You get one week of practice. Then you have three games in three nights, for a kid. It was hard even for vets at that time. And the language barrier. High expectations on the kid. And he definitely struggled with that. He definitely didn't have the confidence.

Al Whitley, Mavericks equipment manager, 2005-06; special assistant to owner, 2018-19, childhood friend of Nash: Early on, Dirk would always be like, "Why do people want my autograph or want to high-five me or take a picture with me?" He didn't really understand it, but he always made time for those people. And he just had a connection with them.

Marc Gasol, Raptors center: There was nobody ahead of him. He was kind of the pioneer for many, many things. And kudos for him for being ready for that, and to Dallas to have that open mindset of allowing him to change things and to believe in something different that nobody at that point believed in. I think it makes franchises feel safer. It gives an example. To me, the bravest part is, like, Dallas. It was never done before, and they did it. They saw Dirk work every day and the way he interacted with his teammates and, obviously, it worked. But it takes bravery because there's uncertainty in all that that it might not work and we might look like fools.

Donnie Nelson: Brave is one word. Scary is another.

Greg Buckner: And he struggled early. He didn't come out like Luka [Doncic], like gangbusters in the beginning. He came in and he struggled. And they knew it couldn't be tough love with him, it had to be nurturing to make sure he was successful. Because he was struggling mentally going through it, and didn't know if he belonged or not.

Donnie Nelson: For us and my dad [coach Don Nelson], we had literally thrown our reputations, history, everything we've done in the league in the hands of two young guys that were completely unproven. A lot of times, those guys have kind of a high casualty count. Especially guys from Europe. So it was exhilarating, fun and frightening, all at the same time.

Greg Buckner: People don't remember when Dirk first got here, he was a 3-man. He was a small forward. He was not a 4-man or a center. He was a small forward. And the things that he was doing in practice, with the perimeter skills and his size, I had never seen anything like that. So I said this kid is going to be a Hall of Famer. I said, "I don't know what the hell, how good Larry Bird was, or what Larry Bird was, but there's no way he could have been as good as this kid is going to be." And they were like, "Yeah, you're crazy, whatever."

Nick Van Exel, Mavericks guard, 2001-03: I just knew he was a rookie. I didn't know who he was. Didn't know anything about him. And I don't even think he had a good game, but just the things that he was doing on the court, I was impressed. And me and Antonio McDyess, even Chauncey Billups, we was like, damn, that dude's going to be good. This is what we're saying in the locker room. So I'll never forget, after the game, I'm walking out and I'm in front of him. I hear somebody coming behind me and I turned around and it was him, so I actually waited. I probably was about 20 feet in front of him and I waited for him. I said, "Man, you're going to be a good player, man. You just keep balling. You're going to figure this shit out, and you're going to be a good player. We just had that little brief moment, and then when I got traded to Dallas, that's the first thing he brought up to me. He was like, "You remember when you told me?" I said, 'Hell yeah, I remember that shit 'cause I knew you were gonna be special."

"A little bit more 'I'm going to cut your head off'"

Nowitzki was fortunate to start his career playing for Don Nelson, a forward-thinking coach who didn't try to turn him into a traditional big man. It helped, too, to have Nash and Michael Finley at his side. Nowitzki's talent and work ethic were undeniable, and the soft touch on his jumper stood out to anyone who was paying attention. He needed time, though, to develop into the Mavericks' undisputed franchise player, and there is some debate about how clear it was that he would.

Mark Cuban, Mavericks owner, 2000-present: I didn't know how good he would be. Had no idea.

Greg Buckner: After his rookie year, they'd take us all, us young guys, and we do summer league. We do summer league that year in Utah and L.A., I think it was back then, and he f---ing put on a show. I mean, he put on a show. He even turned me into a scorer, and I couldn't score to save my life. He just put on a show. He was clearly the best young player out there. It wasn't even close. And then after you see that success in those two, three weeks that we had in summer league, that next year, it was just too easy for him. He just became confident.

Adrian Griffin, Mavericks wing, 2001-2003; 2005-2006: His second year, I was with the Celtics and we were playing Dallas and I had never heard of Dirk Nowitzki before. So, I switched on him, BANG! Just drilled a 3. And I was like, that's probably just a glitch, probably just a mistake, he probably got lucky on that. Came right back down, I got right back on him again in transition, BANG! Rick Pitino is now giving me an earful. He was cussing me out, calling me every name. "You gotta get up and play him!" That's the first time that I was introduced to Dirk Nowitzki, and then I became a fan from afar.

Donnie Nelson: Dirk just needed time to physically, mentally mature, and I think that's where a guy like Michael Finley and Steve, Holger certainly, my dad and the Dallas community really made him feel welcome in the early days.

Adrian Griffin: I was there to witness almost a total transformation of his mental approach, mental game. The first stint when I was there, we had Dirk Nowitzki, Steve Nash, Michael Finley, and I can recall at the end of the game, when we needed a basket or a certain play, they all three would defer to each other like you go ahead and take it, or you take it. My second stint, Dirk was like give me the effing ball. That was the difference.

Greg Buckner: I mean, obviously Dirk never wanted the attention. He's never going to be the guy that is going to say, "Yeah, it was about me," or whatever. But Dirk always knew he was going to be the franchise guy. And Dirk always knew after that second year, it was Dirk's show. It was not Nash's show, it was not Finley's show, it was not Van Exel's show. It was Dirk's show. Dirk was the franchise from his third year on. And let's not get that messed up. And we all knew that. We all knew who the man was.

Calvin Booth, Mavericks center, 2000-2001; 2004-2005: It was a legitimate Big 3. I think all three of those guys were equally important to us winning. Dirk and Finley were usually going to be the leading scorers, Steve obviously did what he did to help everybody else out and make shots. I think by the time I got there, I got there midseason, I think by that time he's starting to get his footing and he's having more big games. He ended up making third team All-NBA that year.

Mark Cuban: He had Nash and Fin working with him continuously. Encouraging him. Plus we started winning and he knew he was the best player on the team. If you heard all the shit he would talk, you would know he was OK with growing into the role of the best player and a leader.

Al Whitley: When Steve left, as hard as that was for both of them and for all of us, it actually did help Dirk's career and kind of pushed him into that kind of leadership role that he wasn't necessarily comfortable with before Steve left.

Nick Van Exel: Once he got along in his career, he started to see how good he was and how good he could become and he started to take his approach to another level. And one thing about him is he's so cool off the court, but on the court he got kind of a fire inside of him to where he was a little bit different. He was a little bit nastier. He was a little bit more I'm going to cut your head off.

Adrian Griffin: He was always cool and calm, especially my second time with him. That's the confidence that you have. It's almost like the Jordans and the Kobe Bryants. You just have this aura that we can't lose or we're never out of a game. We're down 20 in the fourth, so what? We got Dirk Nowitzki. That's how you always felt. You always had a chance. He'd come in and bang three 3s in a row, and now you're back in it and then everyone's juices are going. He could just have that impact. He's a game-changer. In a couple possessions, you put the ball in his hands and he'd just work magic.

"I used to call him the black German"

In the 2006 playoffs, weeks before the Mavericks lost to the Miami Heat in the NBA Finals, Nowitzki revealed that, in order to relieve pressure at the free throw line, he liked to sing to himself under his breath. His song of choice at the time was David Hasselhoff's "Looking for Freedom," which was a No. 1 hit in Germany when Nowitzki was 10 years old. There is more, however, to Nowitzki's musical stylings than the work of former Baywatch stars.

Nowitzki's coach and mentor, Holger Geschwindner, wanted him to see basketball as a dance. In one of 2014 documentary The Perfect Shot's more memorable scenes, Geschwindner's former teammate Ernest Butler plays saxophone during a training session as a bunch of German players try move and dribble a ball to the rhythm. Butler and his saxophone are in the foreground, with a basketball hoop on the gym wall behind him -- a perfect shot, indeed.

Geschwindner bought Nowitzki a sax of his own for Christmas and, after Terry Porter's elbow cost him a front tooth in the 2001 playoffs, Nowitzki lamented that he couldn't play it like he wanted to in the summer. Just before the Outback portion of his head-clearing trip to Australia after the top-seeded Mavs lost to the eighth-seeded Warriors in the first round in 2007, the reigning MVP and Geschwindner hit the Sydney Opera House for Beethoven's Fourth and Seventh symphonies.

Anyone who knows Nowitzki, though, is aware that, for more than two decades, he has fancied himself a rapper.

Greg Buckner: Gary Trent took him under his wing and played hip-hop music for him. I mean, Dirk is the biggest hip-hop junkie in the world at this time. He's quoting all hip-hop songs and stuff like that.

Nick Van Exel: He was just real goofy. Real goofy. Singing songs. Trying to sing the rap songs. I used to call him the black German.

Justin Anderson, Mavericks wing, 2015-2017: You can tell he hung out with a lot of black guys when he first came into the league, and I asked him about it because, like, all his slang, he's on point with it. Like, "Nahmsaying?" He says all types of things. Gary Trent was his vet, so he was like, "Man, I had all the OGs with me." Those are all usually the funny things.

Greg Buckner: Nash is obviously from Canada and has a different-type background. Michael Finley is from Chicago. Gary Trent is from the Midwest. I'm from the South in Kentucky. We had Cedric Ceballos from L.A. He's just a sponge, soaking all this stuff in, and it created, as we say, a monster, boy, because he could hit you with all kinds of things from all walks of life. It really rounded him out to be a great jokester in all different realms of life.

Seth Curry, Mavericks guard, 2016-18: The guy's from Germany. He doesn't really have an accent as much anymore, but he's in touch with the culture. He knows the music, knows the movies, knows that sense of humor. It's always funnier when it comes from Dirk.

Adrian Griffin, Mavericks wing, 2001-2003; 2005-2006: What people probably don't know is that Dirk and Steve used to bring their guitars in sometimes. They would play, try to teach each other how to play the guitar. I don't know how it ended. Maybe they could be Van Halen by now if they stuck with it. They were in the early years.

Greg Buckner: We all hung out together. We all went to Cedric Ceballos' house and hung out played cards and played dominos. Dirk then was playing the guitar. The funny thing about it, they would bring those guitars on the road and work at it.

Al Whitley: The instruments, the guitar, the saxophone, stuff like that, his mentor, Holger, has always encouraged him to learn different things outside of basketball. To advance your career and be the best you can possibly be, you have to expand your mind in certain things outside of the game of basketball. And musically, Holger is a big advocate of learning instruments helps you do that. I think that's how that all originated.

Adrian Griffin: He was learning. You wouldn't book him for a gig just yet back then, but they say 10,000 hours.

Nick Van Exel: It's probably our first road trip we go on, and I see my phone is lit up. You know, the blinking light. I'm like damn, who in the hell? I'm thinking maybe it's the front desk or something leaving a message. So I check it, and next thing you know, it's Dirk on there singing a damn song, playing a guitar. But I guess that was his way of welcoming me, breaking me in and whatever.

Al Whitley: He just sings and jokes around all the time. Sometimes even he'll rap in German just to keep the mood light for the guys. Half the songs he sings, if it's not hip-hop, a lot of our players, especially our younger players, have no idea who it is. It could be a classic rock band, the Rolling Stones, who Dirk loves, and these guys have no idea.

Ian Mahinmi, Mavericks center, 2010-2012: You see him sing and rap. And this is before important games.

Chandler Parsons, Mavericks forward, 2014-16: Tennis, he's unbelievable. His serve is a pro-level serve. Obviously he doesn't have the agility anymore and the foot speed, but his serve is next level. Singing, dancing, anything of that level, no shot. No good there. He's a Hall of Fame basketball player, not a dancer or a singer.

Dennis Smith Jr., Mavericks guard, 2017-19: It's horrible. The confidence level is high, but the tone is trash.

Nick Van Exel: I was just like, you know, I'm glad you chose basketball because that other path probably wouldn't have worked out for you.

Mark Cuban: Mick Jagger is lucky Dirk took up basketball.

"Man, how is he getting past people?"

The Mavs call it "the flamingo." You probably just call it the Dirk. It's the one-legged fadeaway jump shot that is to Nowitzki what the skyhook is to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. "That's a shot that terrified a lot of opponents because you didn't know when it was coming and you knew you couldn't block it anyway," Warriors star Kevin Durant said.

Nowitzki vexed opposing coaches because normal rules didn't apply to him. He was a master at making contested midrange shots, precisely the kind of looks that defenses were designed to allow. A simple pick-and-pop inspired nightmares.

DeAndre Jordan, Mavericks center, 2018-19: He's a monster, man. He could drive and get to the basket easily. You couldn't really block his shot because he fades away, he shoots with a high arc and he gets that knee up there. And for me, I was a young player, playing against him, so I wanted to really guard him hard or try to block his shot or do something that took him out of his game. But more times than not, it did not work.

Marc Gasol: He's a right-handed guy, high release, high arc, so you gotta be really close to contest that. Then if you take away the right hand -- which, he rarely drove right hand, but you still gotta honor the drive -- you cut him off, he's going to back to a little spin move, one-leg fadeaway. You're not getting to that shot. Everything was a counter to a deadly weapon, which was his jump shot.

Antawn Jamison, Mavericks forward, 2003-2004: I felt like the best defense was I had to make him work on the defensive end and try to score against him.

Mike Procopio, Mavericks director of player development, 2013-present: You watch these guys with these Instagram workouts in the summer that are bogus, like dribbling seven balls and jumping over shopping carts to get to a shot. Some guy's got a 40-foot pole that he's gotta shoot over like he's in the MTV Rock N' Jock game. Like, that's not him. He just does all these simple shots. He just knows his kill spots on the floor and he knows where he has to get to, and he gets to 'em.

Yogi Ferrell, Mavericks guard, 2016-2018: I've never seen him do a between-the-legs or a behind-the-back dribble ever. Probably not even a crossover.

Jae Crowder, Mavericks forward, 2012-2014: Really, how are you going to guard the pick-and-roll with him popping? If you hedge, he's big enough and tall enough to get the shot off. If you switch it, he sees right over the top of the smaller defender. When he's got it going, it's tough to stop him. It's tough to put the fire out. Obviously.

Vince Carter, Mavericks wing, 2011-2014: You look at him, he's the slowest guy out there, but yet you can't stay in front of him. He knew who he was and how to be effective, man. I tell you, in his day, he was a force to be reckoned with as far as, like, you sit him, you post him up at that free throw line, and he's just a smart player. He knew how to make defenses pay. You just look at it, like, man, how is he getting past people? But you have to respect the great shooter that he is. He knew how to get buckets. Obviously, 31,000 points speaks for itself.

Elton Brand, Mavericks center, 2012-13: I remember one game against Carlos Boozer, I know Boozer wants to go left. I'm screaming at Dirk, at Dirty, "Send him right, send him right!" Boozer goes left and scores. And then scores again. And I'm frustrated. I'm just like, "Goddamn, Dirty! Send him right!" And then Dirk hits two dagger 3s to win the game. I go back and apologize: "Look, you never have to play defense again, man."

Mike Procopio: He's not just like a hired assassin, hired gun who's going to get you 35. He's smart, he can pass. Back in his day -- before electricity -- he could actually get off the floor and get by guys. You watch him, I don't think he wants you to know this, but the reason why he invented the fadeaway is because Bill Russell kept on blocking his shot at The Garden. He needed his shot to go over him.

Ian Mahinmi: You can see KD now, Porzingis, all these 6-11, 7-footers, 7-foot-1 players, they all watched Dirk. They all watched Dirk shooting 3s and putting it on the floor and having this high release. This is Dirk. Ain't nobody who was doing it like that before him. From time to time when we have talks, especially with the younger generation, and we brought up the name Dirk and they're so quick to be like, "Uhhh." Like, no, man. Nah. Dirk is like that. You just haven't seen it. Do your research. Look some tape up. The man is great.

"The holy grail of his career"

In Nelson's view, Nowitzki's game had reached "a whole different stratosphere" by the time he returned to "the scene of the crime." That would be the 2011 NBA Finals, again meeting the Heat. Surrounded by veterans who knew they might never get back to the Finals, Nowitzki upstaged LeBron James, Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh. Then-Mavericks guard Jason Terry said it was hard to describe how he owed Nowitzki for the championship ring, but called it "phenomenal" to reach the pinnacle alongside him. Fans feel the same way.

"The people of this city view Dirk and their relationship with Dirk as a precious relationship," Dallas coach Rick Carlisle said. "It's been based upon all the right things. It's been based upon a singular vision to provide the ultimate moment, which came to fruition in the form of a championship in 2011."

Carlisle made sure to cite Nowitzki's "amazing sense of loyalty and giving" and mention the "untold of millions of dollars" Nowitzki sacrificed in free agency, which allowed the Mavs to sign Tyson Chandler. Without the addition of Chandler, there would have been no title, no parade and no incredible photos of Nowitzki wearing Ian Mahinmi's glasses at Miami nightclub LIV, where Cuban spent a reported $110,000 in four hours.

Donnie Nelson: Dirk felt (in 2006) not only did he let down people in the locker room, let down people in Dallas, but also around the globe. I mean, he was carrying a baton that has never been carried before.

Al Whitley: Disappointment and devastation. We did sit in the locker room for many, many hours till the wee hours of the morning. And I know it still hurts him. But if you look back, in order to reach the top of the mountain, you gotta go through peaks and valleys. And at the time, it felt like we got punched as hard as you can get punched, but in the end, I think it was meant to be along the journey to get to where we got to in 2011. The sun came up the next day -- we watched it -- and it is what it is.

Rick Carlisle, Mavericks coach, 2008-present: The only thing he's ever cared about is winning. In the 11 years that I've known him, that's the only thing. He was a 29-year-old guy about to become 30 when I got the job here, and the championship had eluded them in 2006. It was very painful.

Donnie Nelson: It's like somebody ripped your heart out.

Rick Carlisle: That was his only goal. And it wasn't just a goal that he had for himself. It was a goal that he had for the city of Dallas. And a lot of that had to do with his feelings about the fans here and of course his feelings about Mark Cuban. That was the only focus.

Donnie Nelson: You hear things like, "You'll never be able to win a championship with someone with a European mentality, they don't understand our game, there's no defense, people won't follow that kind of a leader." Blah blah blah, this and that. You hear everything. And when you fail, those things, whether they're real or not, become true in people's minds. And so when we're sitting there, about to stick a flag into Mount Everest in our first Finals run, and that cup is literally ripped from our arms, then you hear all of the naysayers.

Jason Terry, Mavericks guard, 2004-2012: Dirk and I had a very special relationship. You gotta understand, when I was traded to Dallas and then Steve Nash departed Dallas, Steve Nash was Dirk's best friend. He was the teammate that he had played with that they had that sort of relationship and chemistry. When I was brought in to replace Nash, people thought that relationship would kind of happen, it would be automatic. But we had to let that relationship grow organically, and we had to go through it -- trials and tribulations, adversity, losing in the playoffs, that sort of thing -- for our relationship to develop and for it to evolve. Besides Stockton and Malone, I say we had the best two-man game ever in NBA history.

Rick Carlisle: The amount of emotion that overcame him at the end of Game 6 on June 12, 2011 was amazing. He had to leave the court, he went back to the locker room just to try to collect himself. There were tears in his eyes. You look into the stands, if you looked up into the stands and saw Holger Geschwindner, there were tears in his eyes as well. These guys had basically captured the holy grail of his career, and it was an amazing moment that will never be duplicated.

Al Whitley: All the hard work and the blood, sweat and tears that he put into doing that, to see that come to life was one of the greatest moments of my life.

Donnie Nelson: It literally took me probably about two weeks of waking up, "Honey, that wasn't a dream, right? We've got the trophy, right?" It's like, "Yeah, remember you had the parade?"

Ian Mahinmi: Those glasses are not prescribed glasses. They're fake glasses. They're just a fashion statement, whatever. And then after we won, he was like, "Man, come on, man, let me see what I can do with this." And I remember he snatched them from me and he put them on. Little stuff like that, me as a young kid, this made me feel so special. That's just Dirk right there. He's that type of guy, man. He made fun of me wearing those glasses so many times. Almost every single day. And then here we go, Finals, we win and he's wearing it. It don't get no better than that.

Al Whitley: I was two seats down from him. It was hilarious. I don't even think he could see through them. The drinks were flowing so much at that point. But I actually thought he pulled the look off pretty good.

"We go at it in QuizUp"

"He trolls you," Dallas rookie Jalen Brunson said. "But also, like, he takes jokes, too."

Players new to the Mavericks do not always know about Nowitzki's trash talk, and then they inevitably find themselves on the receiving end of it during a scrimmage. Cuban's favorite Dirkisms are "Happy Birthday," "What a circus" and the immortal "He's a burger."

No one is more in tune with Nowitzki in this regard than Mike Procopio, the Mavs' head of player development. Procopio is a man who is willing to spend an hour and a half editing a video for the sole purpose of trolling the face of the franchise.

"Instead of The Perfect Shot, it was called 'The Perfect Limp,'" Procopio said. "And it was about all his follies on the court, falling down or getting shaken up on a pick-and-roll. I just sent it out on the group chat with all the players and stuff. And he's cool with it. He's laughing."

The day after our interview, Procopio followed up via text message. "I was going to stop but this old f--- just made fun of me again," he wrote. He had four more things to say about Nowitzki:

He's so old that his calcium deposits have calcium deposits.

He sometimes says I can't wait to retire. I tell him statistically he retired in 2014.

National Geographic is doing a ranking, who's the least mobile: The Titanic, Stonehenge or him. He came in fourth.

I tell his legs every day what the late, great Jim Valvano said: Survive and advance.

Wesley Matthews, Dallas Mavericks wing, 2015-2019: Obviously he's getting older, but he's still as good of a shit-talker as ever.

Zaza Pachulia, Mavericks center, 2015-16: I've been following him on social media. First of all, it took him a while to get on social media because he's so slow in everything. I saw a couple of tweets of his, clowning his teammates, and you could tell the guy has humor. But I didn't know that he had that much humor till I became his teammate. The guy is nonstop. Nonstop, and I mean that.

Greg Buckner: "What up, Work?" He says that to everybody. When he says that to you, you know you've been around Dirk, you know you've been one of his teammates and you've had a great time with him and you've been on his coattails, riding the ride, enjoying the show and watching him do his thing. It was really big when we first got in. Burger is almost disrespectful. When somebody calls you a burger, that's not a good thing. It's not like a good In-N-Out Burger. It's a bad thing. Burger is about him joking with you, telling you that you ain't shit.

Jae Crowder: If he calls you a burger, it feels like you're not on his level.

Dennis Smith Jr.: Somebody playing trash or if somebody's trash, he'll call 'em a burger.

Elton Brand: He'll call you a burger. I'm trying to defend him in practice and he'll be like, "Too little! E.B.'s too little!" Because, you know, he's 7-foot and I'm 6-7 3/4. He just talks trash. It's just love, though.

Greg Buckner: He was a burger on defense.

Mike Procopio: When he gets subbed out, he will look at my outfit and destroy what I'm wearing and I'll politely tell him that his defensive plus-minus reads like the Dow did in the stock market crash of 1929.

Ian Mahinmi: Let's say like during the game I would miss a bad shot. So it was for sure the next day at practice or shootaround, he'd look at me and he'd do the exact same shot. But he'd overexaggerate.

Mike Procopio: [Dirk and Doncic] are two clowns. They clown on each other. Dirk clowns on his weight and just sort of him butchering the English language. He'll just go at Dirk about how old he is. It's cool 'cause those guys are different because of obviously the age and what they've grown up with, but they're the same in the sense that they're competitive as hell. I mean, competitive as hell. But they're funny as hell. They're good to be around. Teammates love them. It's awesome to watch those guys. You could go 0-82 and you'd still have fun going to work every day because of those two guys.

Ian Mahinmi: Dirk will crack a joke at the most random time and he'll relax the atmosphere. When your leader is capable of taking a joke and making fun of yourself and laughing out loud, it's kind of like OK, this guy is human, this guy is actually just like me.

Mike Procopio: Right now, it's our endless games of QuizUp on our apps. 'Cause we talk trash to each other all night. We'll play all night. We'll go at it about Mavericks history, NBA All-Star Game history and 90s music. And every time somebody wins, we screenshot the scoreboard and we say something pretty outlandish about the other person. After a game, after he chips off the iceberg that sank the Titanic and soaks his feet in it, and all his battered-out joints, and when he's out of it, he's on the bus, I know that I'll get a text on my phone that he challenged me in some game. We were like 78-79, we were like neck-and-neck for a while and then I went on a cold streak. Because we're playing Dallas Mavericks history. The f---ing guy, half the answers are about him anyway. How the f--- do I know how many offensive rebounds he had in his career? I thought Eric Montross was the leader.

Nick Van Exel: He's still trying to play, and I played with him in 2003, 2002, and I'm sitting behind the bench talking shit to him. So we were playing the last game in Dallas. He was at the free throw line. I said, "Dirk, man, you might as well come on sit back here with me, man. Let this shit go." He looked at me and starts laughing.

Mike Procopio: Our current score on QuizUp is 106-80 as of now. I hung in there for a while but, like Dirty's joints and legs, I'm on a tremendous downward spiral.

"You'd think he was the 15th guy"

If you really want to know what an NBA player is like, try to find out how he treats team staff. Whitley, who was Dallas' longtime equipment manager before his promotion this season, said that Nowitzki has "the biggest heart of any person of his stature that I've ever been around." He added that Nowitzki has "no diva in him" -- he never even asked for new socks, shirts and shoes.

Ask teammates about Nowitzki, and many of them will tell you it has been an honor to play with him. Mavericks center Dwight Powell is one of them, and he said he has been inspired by Nowitzki quietly finding ways to help the community and change lives in Dallas. Ex-Mavs guard Darren Collison will never forget watching Nowitzki slowly walk through a crowded airport, signing autograph after autograph, brushing nobody off. According to Whitley, countless players have told him over the years that they "never thought he was like this" because of his intensity on the court.

One of the peculiarities about playing until you're 40 is that you end up sharing the court with people who grew up cheering for you. "I've got his jersey," Joe Ingles said. "Only one I've got." When Ingles and Nowitzki got in a scuffle, the Utah Jazz forward "felt bad 'cause I really like him."

Justin Anderson: The team that I would always choose on 2K, the poster that was on my wall, the jersey that I begged mom to buy was Dirk's. Coming to the league, being drafted by the Mavericks was obviously a surreal moment to me. I remember when I first got to see him in the locker room, just being able to kick it with him.

Chandler Parsons: We would always have a group that we would go to get dinner on the road. I remember the girl I was dating at the time I played in Dallas was German, so we'd always go to his house and we'd play tennis or we'd just hang out. Just little things like that that I would never think I'd get the chance to do with one of the greats. And it's just crazy how the world works. It started off with idolizing this guy and now I would consider him a close friend. It's crazy that basketball brought me to someone I looked up to as a role model my whole life.

Ryan Broekhoff, Mavericks forward, 2018-present: When I started basketball, I was like, "I want to be like Dirk." You'd go into the backyard or play against friends and throw up the one-legged fadeaways. It didn't go in too much, but you'd yell, "Dirk!"

Doug McDermott, Mavericks wing, 2018-2018: When I was in college, I kind of started shooting those fadeaways because of him. I watched him in the Finals that year against LeBron. I posted a lot in college, so I added it to my game and it ended up being really huge for me.

Ryan Broekhoff: It's come up in a couple of interviews. Whether he's paid much attention to it or not is a different story. I haven't gone up to him and just gone, "I was a big fan," all this sort of stuff. When I first came in, I was like, "Oh, wow, there's Dirk walking in." Now it's, "Hey, Dirk, how you doing? How's your day?" I know him as a person and he's such a down-to-earth, funny, warm character that it made it easy for me to not just see him as an idol growing up but a teammate and, now, friend.

Doug McDermott: I didn't want to be a fanboy around him. He doesn't know how big of a fan I am.

Elton Brand: It was refreshing because you hear a lot of stories about other superstars, and you go to the Mavericks and the initial team dinner is at his house. His wife is setting up the food. It's like a normal, just everyday teammate. You wouldn't think he was the Hall of Famer, you'd think he was the 15th guy just trying to hang on at times, with his demeanor.

Dennis Smith Jr.: He's willing to allow you into that aspect of life, letting you know how he is. He even told me that I need to go by his house and start babysitting his kids. He told me that my rookie year.

Al Whitley: He's a superstar player that's always thinking about the staff and enjoys hanging out with them outside of basketball. Some of his closest friends are the Mavs staff. I mean, we've grown up with him.

Rick Carlisle: He's not high-maintenance. He's not needy. He's a giver, not a taker. And you gotta be real careful because all those qualities point to a guy that's easy to take for granted. My level of respect for him is so high, and my understanding for how special he is both as a person and as a player is so high that I refuse to take that guy for granted.

Adrian Griffin: Dirk Nowitzki was very content about being Dirk Nowitzki. He didn't feel he had to live up to any persona. He didn't feel he had to be a prima donna or be out in the media and put on a certain image. He was cool with being Dirk, and that's what made him so special. He'd come into practice with jeans on an a T-shirt. On the court, he was a killer. Off the court, he was a gentle giant. I don't know if you'll ever find a Dirk Nowitzki ever again.

"Dude, you're 38, are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?"

When Avery Johnson coached the Mavericks, he had to resort to punishments. "It would be like, 'Hey, tomorrow's off; if anybody comes in, they're getting fined," ex-Mavs center Calvin Booth said. Johnson said it to the whole team, but the message was for Nowitzki, who did not seem to respect the concept of an off-day.

This is not to say that his extreme commitment to his routine is a problem. "No one sets a better example than Dirk Nowitzki," Nelson said, speaking reverentially about the way his game evolved under the tutelage of Geschwindner. The two of them wanted to add to what they called his "toolbox" every summer, and Nelson still sounds mystified by the way Nowitzki improved as a rebounder early in his career.

"Dirk is like a son to all of us, but particularly Holger who, really, in a lot of respects, birthed him from a basketball perspective," Nelson said. "He was working with him back in the day when he literally was this kid that was just a little colt on the court, trying to figure out life. He's been his agent, he's been his mentor, he's been his motivation, he's been, really, everything from soup to nuts. And Holger's skill set and his ingenuity perfectly matched up, I think, with Dirk. It was one of these really cool time-and-place happenstances where these two planets came together."

Nowitzki put the Mavericks on his shoulders, but loud, vocal leadership was never his thing. "He showed me the ropes, he showed me without telling me," former Dallas wing Justin Anderson said. Anderson is one of many ex-Mavs who said they made a point of doing shooting drills with him and watching what he was doing. When Nowitzki went to the cold tub, Anderson followed him to the cold tub. When Anderson noticed Nowitzki was eating before treatment, he decided to eat before treatment.

"He taught me so much about the game, whether it's taking care of your body, how much water he drinks," Anderson said."I mean, he drinks an insane amount of water. Every time I saw him he had a big glass bottle of Mountain Valley water with him."

Elton Brand: I saw Holger, his coach, come in from Germany, and I'd get shots up at night and they were there all day and night, working on his form, doing his, like, squatting all the way down to the ground and shooting high-arcing shots.

Ian Mahinmi: I asked Holger to work me out just so I could see it. I worked out a few times with him and his stuff is hard. You get to a point where you master that shit, no wonder why you're a Hall of Famer.

Elton Brand: It was fascinating, watching him do like squats and not even shoot the ball. And bear crawls.

DeAndre Jordan: Some of it is very unorthodox, but, shit, I mean, if it works for you, it works for you. Obviously it has been proven to work over 21 seasons. We all could take a page out of his book.

Seth Curry: It's about routine. It's about what you do every day. If you do something every single day, you can master it, you can figure out what works for you. Even today, you see guys like KD and Steph take some of those things they've seen Dirk do with Holger and apply it to their workouts, like getting extra low, shooting it super high arc. He definitely changed the game in the way people practiced shooting.

Donnie Nelson: We would give Dirk and Holger things that they needed to work on over the course of the summer, and when the season was over, it was almost like they went right back to Würzburg and got in that gym. And by the time training camp came around, not only did he have it, but he had it mastered.

Jason Terry: To watch Dirk work, to watch him prepare the way he did, it made me a better professional and a better player. There was many nights where I would be on one end of the court, he would be on the other and he would be working on his craft. And I would just peek down to the other end and just watch him work and what he was doing and with the efficiency that he was doing it with. That routine alone, I implemented and it gave me the longevity that I've had to this day, to be able to play 19 years. Had I not been Dirk Nowitzki's teammate and been able to witness that greatness every single day and sit by him in the locker room during my time in Dallas, I don't think I would have played as long.

Donnie Nelson: In all the years that I've been here, we haven't had a single guy that's outworked him. We get rookies that say, "Oh yeah I'll be here every day that Dirk's here, I'll work harder," and this and that. Yeah, that lasts about a week.

Harrison Barnes, Mavericks forward, 2016-2019: He'd always brag. He'd be like, "I heard you were a hard worker." I'm like, "Yeah, likewise. Hey, if you want to get in the gym, let me know." And he was coming back and he's in the gym for like an hour and a half, two hours after practice. I'm like, "Dude, you're 38, are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?"

Ian Mahinmi: You get on the tip of your finger when you do your pushups -- Dirk is the first guy that I actually saw doing that type of pushup. So one day I was looking at him, and he was like, "Man, what are you looking at me for? Get down with me and let's do a series." I started that 'cause of him.

Chandler Parsons: I'm looking at my free-throw percentage this year, I'm shooting 90 percent. I used the breathing technique that he taught me. I've always breathed out on my free throw. Before he shoots, he breathes in and kind of holds his breath at the line, which I thought was different. Most guys exhale and he said that kind of puts motion through your whole body. It's a little thing like that that I've picked up on that I'm still using today that I would have never learned if I didn't play with him.

Mike Procopio: He just never goes away from what works for him. And I talked to Don Kalkstein, our sports psychologist, and he says, "Pro, he's been doing it for 20 years. The same thing." The same workout with Holger. The jokes are the same. Everything is the same. It's like a Twilight Zone episode, where everybody else is dead but he's still coming in, doing the same thing, like he's talking to mannequins every day. I literally think if you set up 40 mannequins of our staff and he walks by, he'll just say the same thing without even noticing.

"Cut out of a different cloth"

"It's tough to see him like this," Dallas guard J.J. Barea said last month. Nowitzki had just shot 2-for-13 in a blowout loss to the Brooklyn Nets, missing his first nine shots and all seven of his 3-point attempts. The fans at Barclays Center screamed for Dirk and booed other Mavericks when they didn't pass him the ball. Barea knows how much Nowitzki loves to compete. Everyone around him knows that, 21 years in, losses and bad games still get to him.

You don't need to be a longtime teammate to know that this season has been challenging for Nowitzki. He has spoken publicly about the setback that kept him out until mid-December after spending last offseason recovering from ankle surgery. Over the last few years, he has been honest about the frustration that has come with his body no longer being able to keep up with his mind, just like he was honest about his Finals heartbreak.

Nowitzki never pretended to be invincible. He owned his failings, deflected praise and answered questions. According to Cuban, players can learn a lesson from this: "Being humble, open and vulnerable are signs of strength."

Al Whitley: He put in so much work this past summer and was actually feeling really good. The setback was tough to watch. I don't think many people, if any other than himself, could get through that and continue to play on and keep fighting every day at his age and at his stature. It would have been easy to just hang it up and say, "I gave it a go and it just didn't work out." But instead he was the first one at the gym getting treatment, rehabbing, trying to figure it out and get it right 'cause he wanted to come back and play so bad.

Mike Procopio: He's got a lot on his mind. He's hurting. I think if you invested in ice this past couple years, it went up about 300 points in the stock market because we've monopolized it. But the guy's going through some tough times sometimes, so joking around and making the guy smile and laugh is pretty cool.

Greg Buckner: He's Mr. Maverick. The Dallas Mavericks' legacy is all because of Dirk. And a little bit of Mark Cuban, don't get me wrong. But Dirk is the legacy. And he knows this is his baby. You never want to give up your baby. He feels like the Mavericks is his baby, and I think that's why he's grinding and grinding can play as long as he has.

Donnie Nelson: Dirk a number of times could have gone a different direction and said, "Hey listen, let me go finish up with Golden State." Look, he's gotten calls from all the big boys. I mean, anyone that's been in the Finals run -- L.A., Miami, he gets calls from all of those guys. Recruiting calls from some of the best players that have ever played the game: "Hey, come on and join us. We're assured that we'll get to the Finals. We got a shot to get you another ring." Dirk has turned down all of those sirens to stick it out here in Dallas. That's, beyond words, appreciated.

Rick Carlisle: Dirk's a great friend. This is my 11th year. We arrived here in 2008 when my daughter was going into preschool. She's now in eighth grade and my present contract runs through the end of high school for her. I'm well aware that the reason my daughter is going to likely be in the same school for 14 straight years, with pre-K, kindergarten and then grades 1 through 12, is because of Dirk's greatness and all these very unique qualities. He now has a young family with three kids, and he's learning what that's all about. But he and I have been through a lot, and if you look at what's happened with the team since the championship, there's been a lot of upheaval. There's been significant change virtually every year. But he's kept a consistent approach, a positive mindset, a positive bent on the whole thing. And it's made my job lightyears easier than what it could have been.

Donnie Nelson: This is almost like a time warp because you really can't believe this is potentially coming to an end. You can't imagine your life without that person. And it's not like he's leaving forever or anything like that, but you've been so used to having him be the rudder of the franchise for so long, you don't really know how to react to it.

Mike Procopio: I love him. he's a good dude. I'll never admit that to his face. I'll Frank Underwood this thing and just lie and put a spin on it if anyone ever says it, but I love the dude. He's a good guy. He's one of the best. I'm glad I got a chance to spend six years with the guy.

Rick Carlisle: I've been in teams with superstars for decades. I can categorically say that Dirk is cut out of a different cloth. I can also say with the utmost confidence that we will never, ever see a guy in the NBA game quite like him, in terms of his humility, loyalty and all-out level of greatness. The interesting thing about Dirk is the humility and loyalty make it easy to marginalize certain parts of his game and certain huge contributions that he's made to the game. And at the end of the day, that's what makes him the most special.

Donnie Nelson: If San Antonio is the last hoorah, will be his last game, that ironically is where everything started. We're going to be playing right next door to that little gym to where the Hoop Summit was played, that little 5000-person gym. So Dirk's period is going to end literally about 50 yards from where his American Idol moment happened. Ironically, Holger and I, we're going to have a date at the same place that we did however many years ago. If that is in fact the last game, it's ironic serendipity. It's almost like a song.

[kurel-andiel]

The mechanical owl perched itself at one of the windows of the scions complex and whistled softly. Its gaze shifted around the room in that naturally unnatural way all owls stared at their surroundings. From far away it was just another creature of the forest, but inside it was clicking and buzzing away, looking for recognition in its engineering for the right face. When it found the former captain of the Vengeance it was quick to flutter down and land on his shoulder, letting out a soft mechanical whistle as it held out its leg with the missive attached and would peck and harass any other beings that came remotely close to it.

-

Kurel,

To begin, please do not worry about Mavas, he is safe and I regret any trouble his sudden departure from the Scions caused, but he preferred I not escort him from their ranks myself.

We live in the tense position of sharing Mav between us and while in most cases I do not take issue in him picking the work he wants I’m getting tired of retrieving him when he’s damaged, spending time and resources healing him, only to have him return to the beaten state the moment he’s doing your bidding again. Now, I understand that he often seeks his own pains, I am not assigning fault or judgement, only stating a fact that I believe is in both our interests to address. Perhaps together we can find a way to keep Mav from getting himself killed. Until we come to some sort of agreement on this, the warlock will remain in my custody. There is no vacillating on this, so please do not try.

I also hear that his most recent near death experience was caused by someone called the Night Mother. I’m not exactly well versed in her person or what she has against you, Mavas, or anyone else, but please feel free to request anything of Atlas Company if it means her downfall. My arsenal, my troops, my resources, my air ships, all are at your disposal if it means crushing her.

You and I have not always gotten along, in fact I think we got off to a terrible start, but despite our differences I think we can have a great working relationship. Besides, my life essence is the reason you are alive now, so clearly part of you is pretty fucking awesome.

If you request it, the owl will offer you an Atlas Comm to contact me, or can be instructed to wait to deliver a return missive.

Always, Darnath Windere Commander of Atlas Company

He had to escape, not because of Ayami Cross and what she had done to Mavas, but because of so much more. He had not disconnected from the landside in months and had found his head worked best when trapped by endless miles of rolling waters and the unknown horrors that swam below its pitch black depths. A stolen jeweled bracelet from the closet of Demytrya Wintersong paid his fair on a frigate out of Sunspire to the freedom port of Paradise Bay. Five days at sea would put him close to Ratchet once his business on the island with Madame Muerte was finished and from there he would be closely chasing day fourteen, if he could find the resolve to face the only judgement of his choices and of his appearance he feared most… Colpeia’s. 

The mechanical owl had just barely found him in time as the crew of the Tempest’s Haul was being prepared for debarkation. Somewhere in the rigging Croaks loomed, bathing in the crisp breeze of the ocean air and warmth of the sun which left the empty place on his shoulder for the metal machination to perch. The letter offered assistance, somewhat quietly begging for retribution against the transgressions of the warlock and underhandedly chiding the demonic captain for the multiple times Mavas Hawke had landed himself gravely injured. Darnath wanted them to start over, because the blood of the Nathrazim was what had been used to bind Kurel’s shattered soul back together. 

In one paragraph the Atlas Commander blamed him for the free choices Mavas made, if even he assuaged from it by stating he was merely pointing out facts. They shared Mavas, as if the man was a slice of property with equal parts belonging to two holders. If the Overlord was tired of retrieving the broken assassin, then the simple solution was to simply stop. Let him die or let him live on his own means. That was the law of the desert.

Until Kurel might agree to some sort of restrictions regarding what freedoms Mavas was allowed or was not allowed to have, his would-be master teacher, friend was hereby a captive of those he might call family. The warlock served neither himself or their company, as far as Kurel could wager. Much of the man’s time was spent at his seaside home, experimenting in his basement or doing exactly what had landed him in the current under house arrest position, trying to keep Kurel alive or safe from the threat of The Council, Ayami or Reylain that had peeked his interest.

He also did not know what the word vacillating meant, but assumed given the nature of the long letter it had something to do with arguing. 

“Tell your master,” spoke Kurel to the mechanical messenger at his side. The two page letter was tossed into the ocean to ruin. “He can keep his charge for as long as he can make him stay. I don’ negotiate for the lives of already free men an’ if he desires to strengthen some sort of workin’ relations then he ough’ to begin by lettin’ my Quartermaster decide for himself if he wishes to remain under the protection of the Atlas or other. 

“I appreciate the offer of his ships, his airways an’ his men. However, restitution for the crime done against Mavas Hawke is his own to claim. No’ mine. Maybe nex’ time Mavas will be more cautious. His recklessness are no’ my faults. His actions are no’ my wishes. His choices are no’ my commands. He belongs no man, no beast or god.”

Kurel stood straight and turned his head carefully to peer at the machine on his shoulder, assuring he did not mistakenly knock it from its perch with the broadside of a horn.

“Inform him I recommend he allow Mavas to do as he wishes or the scorn of the assassin will be his own to deal with. I won’ support his decision of arrest over concepts like dangerous. I fully believe Mavas knows what he signed up for with me and what he is doing. If he gives the warlock his freedom, I’ll gran’ his request to begin over. Start new. 

“Oops. Appears I may’ve vacillated regardless. Oh well. If your master wishes to sen’ a more intimidating threat, he can do so to Paradise Bay. That’s where I’ll be.” Like swatting away a fly, he shooed the owl off his shoulder to take his message. 

@shaded-hawke @rarivsha @darnath @ayamicross @roewyn @beamgully @rizzythemonk (because I couldn’t remember darnath’s tumblr!)

[jodyedgarus]

What Have The Knicks Done?

New York Knicks executives in recent years have said they would rebuild cautiously and avoid trading their first-round picks. That approach paid off — sweet-shooting big man Kristaps Porzingis, the Knicks’ first-round pick in 2015, quickly ascended into a star, giving the team hope that it could finally build something sustainable with just another solid move or two. All the organization needed to do was avoid somehow taking a step backward.

And then Thursday happened.

New York has agreed with Dallas on trade that includes Kristaps Porzingis, Courtney Lee, Tim Hardaway Jr., for Wesley Matthews, Dennis Smith Jr. and DeAndre Jordan, league sources tell ESPN. Players and agents are being notified of particulars. Deal may include more draft assets.

— Adrian Wojnarowski (@wojespn) January 31, 2019

In response, FiveThirtyEight’s biggest NBA fans gathered to process the reported trade.

chris.herring (Chris Herring, senior sportswriter): I covered the Knicks for five years. Not their worst five, necessarily. But saw their worst season in franchise history. You’re naturally going to see them do things that make you scream, “Why?!” But this is a new level, even for me.

This Porzingis trade, if they don’t land a max-level star or two, is just befuddling.

tchow (Tony Chow, video producer/angry Knicks fan): I think I’m going to be a Brooklyn Nets fan now. Why the hell would you do this?

natesilver (Nate Silver, editor in chief): Do we know what draft pick compensation they got, if any? Because that seems pretty important.

chris.herring: Not the exact terms, no. Though it seems really likely that the Mavs are going to give up something on that front.

natesilver: I guess I’d say this: The process by which the Knicks got to this point is crazy. The outcome, I think, might not be as bad as it seems at first glance. But it really depends on the pick(s).

chris.herring: More than anything, this was about allowing the Knicks to send over their bloated contracts so that they could clear salary cap space. Especially Tim Hardaway Jr., whose deal would’ve made it tough for them to add a second star next to Porzingis this summer.

neil (Neil Paine, senior sportswriter): Yeah, if there is a silver lining (Is there a silver lining?), they just freed up a massive amount of cap space.

The Knicks could be staring at $74.6M in projected cap space for next season. That would be good enough for 2 max slots.

— Bobby Marks (@BobbyMarks42) January 31, 2019

tchow: Welcome to New York, Kevin Durant!!

chris.herring: Only spent seven or eight years there, but this is where my New York cynicism comes into play. The Knicks haven’t had a very good history when it comes to FAs.

natesilver: They also got a buy-low guy in Dennis Smith Jr., although it seems like they have about 14 other buy-low point guards on the roster right now.

tchow: But in losing Porzingis, doesn’t that make the Knicks a less attractive destination to come play? If you were a max player, why would you look at this team and say, “I want to go to there”?

natesilver: Well, yeah, that’s the catch.

tchow: I guess maybe two max players could buddy up and that nullifies what I just said.

natesilver: A team of Kevin Durant, Kyrie Irving and … uuuhhhh, who’s the third-best player on that team? Smith Jr., I guess?

tchow: I don’t know what I’m saying anymore. This is INSANE!!! I’m still in shock.

chris.herring: If nothing else, I guess this all just surprises me because it speaks to one of two things. Either 1) You have that much confidence that a superstar is coming …

tchow: Well you’re forgetting Zion, Nate.

chris.herring: Or 2) Things had gotten so bad/toxic with Porzingis that you didn’t see how you could make it work with him anymore. They really had no obligation to give into this right now, even if he was unhappy.

neil: Right, he was only a restricted free agent after the season.

tchow: Well, Chris, if things have gotten that bad with Porzingis, you would think they were secretly shopping him around earlier. Is this really the best deal they could get? I find that hard to believe.

natesilver: It is worth keeping in mind that Porzingis has a serious injury that other guys have struggled to recover from, that he hadn’t reached superstar status yet, and that he was about to get expensive. The upside is so high, though, that you’d think a team, maybe a cap-constrained team, might have given up a little more.

chris.herring: Yep. I’m not blown away by the fact that they dealt him. It’s what they dealt him for.

natesilver: Getting technical, but his cap hold is only like $12 million this summer, so that was a big benefit too.

chris.herring: There are two or three different reasons to potentially deal him. I just don’t know that any of them were worth dealing him for that return.

natesilver:

Kristaps Porzingis, who can become a restricted free agent this summer, has yet to make a decision on his future with Dallas, league sources tell ESPN. He expects to start the process of getting to know the organization soon. Porzingis will continue to rehab his ACL injury.

— Adrian Wojnarowski (@wojespn) January 31, 2019

tchow:

Sources: All-Star Kristaps Porzingis is planning to inform the Dallas Mavericks his intent is to sign the qualifying offer in restricted free agency this summer.

— Shams Charania (@ShamsCharania) January 31, 2019

FIGHT!!

natesilver: No those don’t contradict. Sign the qualifying offer for one year. Then become a full-fledged free agent in summer 2020.

tchow: Oh damn … you’re right. OK … back to crying.

chris.herring: During the time I spent on the Knicks beat, I got used to watching them attach useful players to ones whose contracts were albatrosses. They traded Tyson Chandler (useful) to unload Raymond Felton (albatross). And Iman Shumpert (useful) to unload JR Smith (albatross).

natesilver: Were Hardaway and Lee that untradeable? They aren’t terrible players, and their contracts aren’t that bad.

chris.herring: Neither is a bad player. Maybe overpaid (I’ve definitely argued that with Hardaway).

natesilver: In some sense, everyone in the deal is a distressed asset.

chris.herring: If anything, Hardaway is just pricey because of what you want to accomplish this summer.

tchow: Watch Dennis Smith Jr. come out of this as the best player in the trade.

natesilver: It’s not nothing.

chris.herring: But Porzingis should not be the sweetener in any deal like this! He’s the lone All-Star changing hands here.

neil: Smith Jr. certainly got a lot of hype as a rookie last year.

tchow: KP IS A UNICORN

chris.herring: I’ll put it this way: Smith and his folks floated that he potentially wanted out of Dallas a week or two ago. That came and went, likely because no one felt like he was worth all that much. He’s explosive. He’s young enough to gamble something on. But he’s not even a clear starter in everyone’s eyes.

natesilver: So what else could they have gotten? What do we think the market price for Porzingis would be? Would Toronto have given up Pascal Siakam and OG Anunoby, for instance, and taken on either Hardaway or Lee but not both?

chris.herring: It was only 20 minutes or so before the trade reports came that this tweet went out.

The Brooklyn Nets, Los Angeles Clippers, Miami Heat, San Antonio Spurs and Toronto Raptors are among many teams expected to pursue Kristaps Porzingis in a trade, league sources tell ESPN.

— Adrian Wojnarowski (@wojespn) January 31, 2019

natesilver: I’m just saying that if you clear the decks for two max free agents but you have a guy like Siakam making just $2.5 million a year, that gives you a lot more to work with.

chris.herring: Notice how smart we perceive those particular franchises to be. I saw someone say, “The smart franchises are circling the dumb one.” Almost like the Knicks were the prey here.

tchow: Right?? I keep thinking there must be other, better trades.

chris.herring: For sure. At least with Siakam, you have a good, athletic two-way player to build around.

tchow: This is all just us talking, right? There were no reports that Toronto was even looking to offer Siakam. Right? Right?

chris.herring: I honestly don’t know whether Smith will be a starter two or three years from now. There’s some faith because of how young he is, but he hasn’t shown consistency yet. And the Knicks haven’t been great with developing two-way talent at the guard spot lately.

natesilver: I wanna know about the draft pick(s) too. Dallas still owns its own pick if it’s 1-5 this year — otherwise it goes to Atlanta — and they’re probably still going to end up in the lottery.

neil: I think we are being very NYC-centric here and focusing on the Knicks’ angle. But for the Mavs, their new Doncic-Porzingis combo seems like it could eventually be very scary.

natesilver: NYC IS BASKETBALL MECCA, NEIL! SUCH A MECCA THAT THE ONLY GOOD PLAYER ON THE KNICKS IN THE PAST 10 YEARS GETS TRADED FOR CAP SPACE

neil: No, it’s not (“The Decline Of New York City As An NBA Talent Generator”).

tchow: No, Neil’s right. Forget the Knicks. I already have. Porzingis and Luka together is going to be amazing!! No way Dirk retires now.

chris.herring: Dallas is gonna be fun.

natesilver: Yeah, how did they do that? Turn the No. 5 pick and — Dennis Smith Jr.? — into Luka and Porzingis?

chris.herring: The Knicks were spending all this time trying to find a running mate for KP, and now Porzingis has Doncic.

tchow: So right now, we have them projected to be way out of the playoffs. When is Porzingis supposed to return? I’m getting ahead of myself

chris.herring: They’re relevant now. Even if they unloaded a hefty part of their rotation here to get Porzingis. But this was a great move for them.

natesilver: It was a little bit ambiguous. Dallas is tanking, obviously, so maybe they just play him for like six games to show he still had something left (as an inducement to free agents, etc.) and then find some excuse to shut him down.

chris.herring: Yeah. Porzingis probably wasn’t going to play for NYK this year. Maybe he gets into a few games for Dallas, but I doubt it.

natesilver: Yeah, they might as well tank too. Maybe not an outright tank, but they do keep their own pick if it’s 1-5.

chris.herring: If you’re the Mavs, this makes sense. You’ve still got Harrison Barnes under contract making a lot of money. Hardaway is under contract a couple more years.

tchow: “Makes sense” is such an understatement here.

natesilver: Don’t the Mavs have space for a max free agent too?

chris.herring: I don’t think so? Not with all the money they just took on.

The 12 teams with projected cap space will now likely shrink to 11 with the Mavericks coming off the board. The Hardaway Jr./Lee/KP additions will put the team over the cap heading into the summer.

— Bobby Marks (@BobbyMarks42) January 31, 2019

This trade was their free agency, in a way. Dallas very quietly just hit us with a Nash/Dirk redux. Except Luka can score better than Nash, and Porzingis can defend.

natesilver: It looks like they should have cap space in 2020-21, though, when the Barnes/Powell contracts all come off the books.

chris.herring: Two or three years from now, they’ll have cap money again, and you imagine players would want to team up with a duo like that.

tchow: (if Porzingis signs)

chris.herring: Porzingis will be 25 in two years. Luka will be 22. Also, can we talk about the fact that the Mavs were at the Garden last night? And Mark Cuban was there. I imagine this topic came up.

natesilver: Ahhh didn’t think about that. But, yeah, it seems pretty weird to think this deal was just conjured up out of thin air.

tchow: They knew. They fucking knew.

chris.herring: Dennis Smith Jr. logged a triple-double.

natesilver: Haha.

tchow:

DONCIC AND PORZINGIS LAST NIGHT pic.twitter.com/BcrrJRzaBg

— Mitchell Moore (@MitchellFanly) January 31, 2019

natesilver: Oh shit!!!!!

tchow: Look at that. That’s a “we’re going to be teammates” handshake.

natesilver: THE FIX WAS IN.

chris.herring: I soooo hope the Knicks — who could’ve drafted Smith but instead took Frank Ntilikina — weren’t enamored by his good game to where they said, “You know what? That sounds good to us.”

tchow: Chris, that is EXACTLY what happened.

chris.herring: What it all comes down to for the Knicks is free agency: If you land two guys who are truly worth it, it’s hard to look back at this and be angry.

tchow: And there is my silver lining.

chris.herring: But for the time being, it is just astounding.

natesilver: The Knicks also haven’t drafted very well. Kevin Knox is regarded as a future rotation piece, if not a star, and I sorta get why because he looks like a good player, but his numbers are unbelievably terrible.

chris.herring: Also: My favorite stat ever, from my Knick beat days: The Knicks haven’t re-signed one of their draft picks on a multiyear deal since Charlie Ward, who they took in 1994. Trading Porzingis keeps that alive.

natesilver: Wow. BASKETBALL MECCA.

tchow: That is insane.

chris.herring: So them wanting to build it through free agency is fitting.

natesilver: I think I have to go to their next home game just to see what a shitshow it is.

tchow: FiveThirtyEight field trip, Nate?

natesilver: I’m down, dude. At least tickets will be cheap.

tchow: Hey, at least we still have Allonzo Trier. And Enes Kanter is back. Things are looking up for the Knicks.

chris.herring: Not that it has any bearing on how this summer pans out. But I think their last four deals for $90 million or more were, in this order: Melo, Amar’e Stoudemire, Stephon Marbury and Allan Houston.

natesilver: I mean, just look at this shit:

tchow: My god that is … depressing.

natesilver: I guess their bigs have been OK? Noah Vonleh and Luke Kornet and Mitchell Robinson?

neil: Ooof, you were not kidding about Knox’s numbers, Nate.

natesilver: Yeah, Neil, and it’s not just some advanced stats thing. He’s shooting just 37 percent. Just 4.2 rebounds, 0.9 assists, 0.6 steals and 0.3 blocks per game. For a guy who’s pretty athletic, that’s kind of sad.

neil: Maybe he’s on the Enes Kanter diet.

natesilver: Knox has a nice-looking 3-point stroke, and I guess you can say he’d get the numbers up if they weren’t tanking. That’s what’s a little hard to figure out on a team like the Knicks where they basically don’t have any incentive to work in their shot selection or to play defense.

tchow: If this is just going to become a shitting on Knox chat, I think it’s time to end it.

natesilver: I’m happy to also shit on other Knicks.

tchow: Just for fun, to end this chat, should we all say who we think won this trade?

chris.herring: Assuming the Knicks don’t land two absolute studs in FA, the Mavs.

natesilver: It’s clearly a good trade for Dallas. Where it ends up on the spectrum from “terrible” to “OK” for the Knicks depends on the draft picks and, yeah, the free agent situation.

chris.herring: Agreed, Nate. You just paired two of the best 25-and-under players in the league together. It could turn out to be a home run for both sides. I just don’t have that level of faith that everything will go right for New York.

natesilver: There is a downside risk with Porzingis, too, which is that he’s never really healthy again. But you do have a year to evaluate him before making a commitment. So the fact that he’s not looking to sign a long-term extension right away is both a bug and a feature.

chris.herring: I guess.

neil: And given the lengths we’ve seen teams go to just to have a chance to get a franchise-altering star, it seems worth it.

chris.herring: I’d be OK with that gamble if it means giving up DSJ and a pick. Dallas has always been willing to roll the dice on acquiring a star.

tchow: You know who won? NBA Twitter won cause this is going to provide so much content for the next few days/until Anthony Davis gets traded.

chris.herring: They even traded Tyson Chandler the summer after he was the linchpin to their title because they thought it’d allow them a chance at a star. They wanted to clear space.

neil: The NBA needs to push its trade deadline further from the Super Bowl.

Wait your turn, NBA! You’ll have the limelight next week.

chris.herring: NOPE. In fact, I hope Bryce Harper and Manny Machado sign today, too.

micah (Micah Cohen, managing editor): My two cents: I lost because I’m waiting for Nate to file a piece about independent presidential campaigns and the Porzingis trade has, I’m sure, delayed it.

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from News About Sports https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/what-have-the-knicks-done/