Damaged Petals.

[redsox907]

djp has an unhealthy obsession with that hotdog meme

We all knew where Tom and Liz was headed. Honestly, with Sophie out the door, they have no reason to be together anymore except for appearances

Brittany going to come back with an offer of the needle

[djp73]

OR
The defense finds out Tom is nailing the DA and Nia walks

[Soapy]

“At least my mistakes didn’t kill one of our kids.”

Tell us how you really feel, Tom. Him saying it, then trying to claw it back then doubling down then trying to claw that back too is peak gaslighting.

Connie about to snatched up by FARC in a jungle somewhere.

Brittany ain't giving Nia no deal. Only deal is life or life until she get the NEEEEEEEDDDDDLLLLLE

You would know, King Gaslighter

She'd fit right in with FARC (racial)

Rooting for the death of our Black sister

So Connie just throwing away a four-year education at a prestigious school. That's crazy.

Tom and Liz should just get that divorce. They've been overdue for what's seemed like years.

Accurate on all fronts, brudda

She probably would have been better off going to a school that wasn't in the same town she grew up in and has all these triggers for her imo

djp has an unhealthy obsession with that hotdog meme

We all knew where Tom and Liz was headed. Honestly, with Sophie out the door, they have no reason to be together anymore except for appearances

Brittany going to come back with an offer of the needle

creeps me out every time he posts it

Sophie still a high school sophomore though

Yeah, Nia might be cooked

OR
The defense finds out Tom is nailing the DA and Nia walks

Not to ruin the suspense but that wouldn't be the case. It's not like Tom and Nia are related. Wouldn't be much of a conflict of interest. Especially not enough for a mistrial. At best, re-assignment.

[Soapy]

Season 9, Episode 1
"This is fucking crazy,” Corey said, lifting his watch to catch the light streaming through the Michigan Avenue storefront. The Submariner’s face gleamed under the jewelry store’s lighting. "We really about to shine on the niggas!"

A smile escaped Brice’s face as he leaned against the counter. "Had to get my boys right."

"You ain’t lying nigga," Hudauri laughed as he turned the timepiece over in his palm, "And here I was geeked over the suits."

"I’m type scared to put that motherfucker on,” T.J. shook his head as the jeweler measured his oversized wrists.

"You need like three more links on that motherfucker,” Jaheim pointed out, earning a laugh from the group.

The jeweler finished processing the transaction, Brice signing the receipt without looking at the total. He’d get a call from his advisor on Monday anyway. No use in spoiling the moment now.

Chicago’s late afternoon greeted them out as they left the store. The city stretched around them in all directions, glass towers reaching toward a cloudless sky, traffic humming past in endless streams with the distant smell of food trucks.

“Yo,” T.J. said, nodding toward the storefront next to the jewelry store, "Let’s check it out."

Brice followed his gaze to the tattoo parlor, its windows covered in flash art.

“I need to finish this shit before the season starts,” T.J. looked at his arm which was mostly covered in ink. "I got the one on my elbow in the middle of camp and that shit hurt like a motherfucker for days.”

“What about you, Five?” Corey asked, turning to Brice. “When you gonna get some ink?”

Brice shrugged. “Not really my thing.”

“Come on, man,” Jesse pressed. “Get the natty. Or the Heisman, if you feeling bold.”

“He’s trying to keep that clean-cut image,” Jaheim laughed. "The Golden Boy."

"He the worst of us," Hudauri shook his head as they walked towards the parlor’s door, "These folks got no clue."

"Q a wild boy?" Jo’Ziah joined in on the fun.

"He lucky Justin not here no more," Hudauri responded as they walked into the store, "Them boys was moving crazy last year."

"Libel, slander, defamation," Brice sucked his teeth, "They just hate to see a White boy with some motion."

The shop was smaller than Brice had expected with artwork covering every available wall space. The buzz of tattoo machines provided a steady background rhythm. A heavily tattooed woman behind the counter looked up as they entered, taking them in with raised eyebrows.

“Y’all got an appointment?” she asked.

“Just looking around,” T.J. said, already studying a display of portfolio books. “Looking for some inspiration.”

Brice wandered toward the back of the shop, where photographs of completed work covered an entire wall. He found himself studying a particular piece, a memorial tattoo with dates and script.

“That shit fire."

Brice turned to find Jo’Ziah beside him, following his gaze to the same photograph.

“Yeah,” Brice agreed. “It is.”

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the noise of their teammates’ conversation fading into background.

"Appreciate you looking out with the suits and the watch and shit. You ain’t have to do that."

"Defending national champs," Brice shrugged, "Gotta look like it. Can’t have T.J. showing up in sweats and shit."

“Still.” Jo’Ziah let out a small laugh. “Means something, you including me like that. I ain’t win shit."

"You with us now, ain’t you?"

Jo’Ziah nodded.

"And about that stuff with Serena," Brice kept his voice level, "It doesn’t mean that things have to be weird between us."

Jo’Ziah’s jaw tightened but he didn’t look away. "How long you known?"

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not,” Jo’Ziah forced a dry chuckle. “Look, man, I should have told you."

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because it wasn’t like that,” Jo’Ziah answered. “It wasn’t serious. We hung out a few times, but it never went anywhere. And I didn’t want to be that dude, you know? The kiss-and-tell ass nigga who comes in talking about who he used to mess with.”

Brice nodded slowly.

“I feel you,” Brice said. "I don’t care about that shit. I mean, I did, obviously. But that shit is in the past and we got a national championship to win."

"For sure."

"Well, another one for me," Brice hid his smirk.

"Fuck you, nigga," Jo’Ziah laughed.

…

Britney flipped through another set of depositions, her pen scratching notes in the margins. The courthouse had emptied hours ago, leaving only the security guard and the cleaning crew to keep her company. She rubbed her eyes behind her glasses and glanced at the clock on her computer screen. Nearly eight.

A soft knock interrupted her concentration.

“Come in,” she called, not looking up from the paperwork.

The door opened and Tom stepped inside, carrying a white plastic bag that smelled like Chinese food. He didn’t say anything, just set the bag on the corner of her desk and pulled up the chair across from her.

"How did you know I was still in here?” she said, though she was already reaching for the bag. "Stalker much?"

“When’s the last time you ate?”

Britney thought about it. Lunch had been a granola bar around two. “This morning, I think.”

She ate between pages, one hand holding the utensil, the other turning documents. Tom just sat there, eating his dinner, occasionally glancing at his phone.

“Another delay?” he asked when she flipped to a motion hearing schedule.

Britney nodded, swallowing a bite of chicken.

“You think they’ll take a deal?”

“Doubt it,” she set down her chopsticks and leaned back in her chair. “The family’s pushing for trial."

"Hmm."

“So I keep preparing like we’re going to trial,” she continued, gesturing at the stacks of files covering her desk. “Because we probably are.”

“Makes sense.”

“You still planning to take some time off for Labor Day?” Tom asked, finishing the last of his fried rice.

“Thinking about it.” She picked up another deposition, but didn’t really read it. “You?”

“Was hoping we could figure something out. Day out on the lake, maybe?"

…

The house was quiet when Brice turned his key in the lock, just the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant sound of Miss Lafitte’s voice.

James’s voice carried down the hallway before Brice even reached the nursery. He found them in the bedroom, Miss Lafitte trying to wrestle James into his pajamas while the toddler squirmed on the changing table.

"He could tell you were coming back today," Miss Lafitte said without looking up, though Brice could hear the smile in her voice. "He’s been fussy all afternoon waiting for you."

James reached both arms toward Brice, nearly rolling off the table.

“Easy, little bro,” Brice scooped him up, feeling James’s small hands grab at his shirt.

“He supposed to be going to bed,” Miss Lafitte said, but she was already putting the pajamas back in the drawer. “But I suppose a few more minutes with his daddy won’t hurt.”

“I got him tonight,” Brice said, bouncing James gently. “You can go ahead and get some rest.”

Miss Lafitte studied them both for a moment, then nodded. “Your dinner’s in the fridge. Just needs warming up.”

“Thank you.”

“And don’t keep him up too long,” she called over her shoulder as she headed for the door.

“We’ll be good, won’t we, baby boy?”

[redsox907]

Tom really leaning hard into the whole Brittany thing, eh. Godspeed. Liz ain't gonna let ya go that easy, my boy

Brice trying to be a good person? When is the other shoe dropping?

[Caesar]

Brice love tricking on his homeboys.

Brittany must be a throat GOAT for how Tom acting.

[Soapy]

Tom really leaning hard into the whole Brittany thing, eh. Godspeed. Liz ain't gonna let ya go that easy, my boy

Brice trying to be a good person? When is the other shoe dropping?

The bar really is in hell for Bricey poo, I love it

Brice love tricking on his homeboys.

Brittany must be a throat GOAT for how Tom acting.

Sidenote. The amount of editing/reviewing it takes for me to be consistent on the spelling of Britney only for y'all to fuck up her name is hilarious

[Soapy]

rookie mistake

[Soapy]

we bump on this site

[Soapy]