Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
176 yards left til Barry gets buried, leggo!
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Should’ve never left Kentucky
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Sign me up for being a fraud if this what being a fraud looks like!
gonna have to pop out and show them
don't get it fucked up, that ohio state team is still rated like a top five teamCaptain Canada wrote: ↑07 Nov 2024, 09:40Cut it a little close in the rivalry game but still a great performance.
#JustAKidFromMontvale
fuck kentucky
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
I didn't forget about you, my sweet prince.
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
nigga that was the whole plotline of season 7 was them being apprehensive about it until Mark found a bidder willing to pony up
FIND A NEW SLANT BUDDY
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Season 8, Episode 21
The key turned in the lock with a metallic click, and Ashley pushed open the door to her cramped apartment. Kyrie shuffled in behind her, his shoulders hunched and eyes downcast.
"I was going to clean up this morning but lost track of the time so don’t judge me," Ashley said, trying to inject some warmth into her voice. "Cassie has an extra mattress that her boyfriend is dropping off tomorrow.”
Kyrie nodded silently, sinking onto the threadbare sofa. His fingers absently traced the frayed edges of a throw pillow, his mind clearly elsewhere. The oppressive silence hung between them like a heavy curtain.
Ashley busied herself in the kitchenette, the clinking of mugs and whoosh of the electric kettle filling the quiet space. "This weather got me feeling sick as shit, you want some tea?”
Another wordless nod from Kyrie. Ashley sighed, pouring hot water over two tea bags. Steam curled upward, carrying the comforting aroma of chamomile.
"Listen," she said, setting the mugs on the coffee table. "I know this is all kinds of messed up, but I just don’t want someone recognizing you, reporting you, reporting me. The ban is bullshit but it is what it is so if you need anything, just let me know.”
Kyrie's eyes flickered up briefly before returning to study the carpet fibers. Ashley perched on the edge of an armchair, her hands wrapped around the warm mug.
"I get that you don't want to talk about it," she continued. "But bottling it all up isn't going to help either. When you're ready, I'm here to listen."
The ticking of a wall clock punctuated the silence. Outside, a car alarm wailed in the distance, its plaintive cry echoing Kyrie's unspoken anguish. Ashley watched him, noting the deep shadows under his eyes, the tension in his jaw. The confident and charismatic bundle of joy and personality she knew seemed to have vanished, replaced by this hollow shell.
Minutes stretched into hours as the light faded from the sky. Ashley ordered takeout, the smell of greasy Chinese food filling the small apartment. Kyrie picked at his food listlessly, barely touching the kung pao chicken that was usually his favorite.
As night settled in, Ashley grabbed extra blankets from the closet, arranging them on the couch. "You sure you don’t want to sleep on the bed with me? It’s fine with me.”
Kyrie finally spoke, his voice rough from disuse. "No, it’s cool, Ash. You’re doing more than enough. This is an upgrade, trust me.”
She smiled softly, squeezing his shoulder. "Alright, well, get some sleep. It ain’t going to fix everything but it’s a start.”
As Ashley retreated to her bedroom, Kyrie stretched out on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The silence of the apartment was deafening as he closed his eyes, trying to adjust himself back to life on the outside.
…
Kam leaned against the railing of the deck, looking fondly at the streets that served as a backdrop for most of his school. Behind him, the warmth and laughter from the Thompson household spilled out onto the wooden planks.
"Yo, Kam!" Jamal's voice called out. "What you looking at? Ain’t nothing out there.”
Kam turned, a grin spreading across his face as he saw his friend carefully maneuvering through the sliding glass door, a hand pressed gingerly against his side. "Just thinking about how I used to smoke your ass. You never beat me around that corner, you know that, right?
Jamal chuckled, then winced slightly. "If you’re going to lie, at least tell a believable lie. You’ve never been faster than me, even right now I’d beat you in a race.”
"Sit your ass down, old man," Kam said, helping Jamal ease into a deck chair. "Ginger ass nigga.”
The two friends laughed, their voices carrying down the street. Inside, Jamal’s parents’ Leon and Patricia bustled about the kitchen, the aroma of Patricia's famous jerk chicken wafting out to the deck.
"So," Jamal said, adjusting himself in the chair, "They gave y’all boys some walking papers for a couple of days?”
“It’s a long ass season bro and we’re really just getting started,” Kam sucked his teeth, “I fuck with the coaches though, they know when to let a motherfucker breathe for a little bit, not think about no football for a minute.”
“Bullshit,” Jamal shook his head, motioning towards Mark that was seated at the table on his laptop, “Why you think he decided to visit today?”
“Now, business, that’s different,” Kam laughed, “I don’t know, man, would it be some sucker shit?”
Jamal paused, giving it some thought, “I think you earned it and you know I’m your biggest hater.”
“That’s a fact,” Kam nodded, “But for real, it feels like some hoe ass shit.”
“I’m not saying you don’t play,” Jamal shrugged, “But they don’t need to know that. Apply some pressure to their ass, get them to guarantee the rest of your deal and then get some extra guac on that bitch for those playoff games. Niggas in the league do hold outs every year, bro.”
“Not in the playoffs though,” Kam countered, Mark’s suggestion for him to sit out the Big Ten Championship Game unless he was paid out the rest of his million-dollar package weighed heavily on his mine.
“Shit,” Jamal smiled, “That sounds like the perfect time to me.”
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Kyrie need to kneecap Kam
Requiem for a Broken Dream.
Kyrie down bad.
Rutgers in the playoffs?
Rutgers in the playoffs?