Neighborhood.

[Captain Canada]

I mean, at this point, the Trailblazers may as well throw Keshawn into the starting lineup.

[Soapy]

We need to see more blocks from Keshawn. Tall for nothing head ass.

This brother is never happy.

I mean, at this point, the Trailblazers may as well throw Keshawn into the starting lineup.

We making the most of our opportunities no matter what

[Soapy]

A Cold Day in Hell - Episode 9
Trey's fist stung from the impact, knuckles raw where they'd connected with the Varrio Longo member's face. His other hand held a sharpened toothbrush, its tip now crimson and dripping onto the concrete floor of the supply closet. The man—Trey hadn't asked for a name, only a description—gurgled once, twice, then went silent, eyes fixed on nothing.

Trey wiped the makeshift shank on the dead man's jumpsuit, his breathing already settling back to normal. His years inside had taught him efficiency, no wasted movement, no hesitation. If you waited, you got killed. If you thought, you got killed.

He tucked the shank into the elastic of his underwear, pulled his jumpsuit back up over it, and cracked the door. The corridor was clear. Trey slipped out, his face a mask of boredom as he walked unhurriedly back toward his cell block.

"What's good, Singleton?" called a voice from behind him.

Trey turned, keeping his expression neutral as Officer Dawes approached. "All good in the neighborhood, homie."

Dawes' eyes flicked to Trey's hands, noting the fresh bruising but saying nothing. "I ain’t your homie, little nigga. Get moving."

"Appreciate you," Trey nodded, continuing down the corridor.

When he reached his cell, his cellmate Cedric was sitting on the bottom bunk, nose buried in a dog-eared paperback. He didn't look up as Trey entered.

"You can tell our man it’s handled," Trey said, voice flat as he moved to the small metal sink, turning on the tap to wash his hands. The water ran pink for a moment before clearing.

Cedric dog-eared his page and closed the book. "Dawes?"

"The usual," Trey replied, drying his hands on his jumpsuit.

Cedric nodded, sliding off the bunk. "Aight, I’ll put the word out."

Trey didn't respond, already moving toward the cell door again. The rec room buzzed with activity—men playing cards, watching TV, working out with makeshift weights in the corner. Trey spotted the dominoes table, four players deep in a game.

"I got next," he announced, settling into an empty chair nearby.

…



The ball slammed against the backboard and ricocheted off the rim, bouncing toward Stefan at the edge of the scout team's half-court setup. He snatched it with one hand, feeling the familiar texture against his fingertips.

"Run it again," Coach Savino barked from the sideline. "Lewis, go in for Parker."

Stefan clenched his jaw as Tommy jogged onto the court. It was bad enough that he had lost his in-game reps to the likes of Donovan, the transfer from New Mexico, or Trent, who had barely played last year as a freshman. Now, he was losing his reps to fucking Tommy of all people.

"Give us a goddamn look, Parker!" Coach Palmer snapped. "You can’t even do that?"

Stefan was slow to walk off the court, changing his path to the bench so that it directed him towards Tommy, intentionally bumping his shoulder into his as they crossed paths.

"What the fuck, man?" Tommy pushed him away.

"Shut your bitch ass up," Stefan didn’t bother to look back, continuing his slow walk to the sidelines.

Tommy pushed him again, this time with more force that sent Stefan stumbling a few steps before he gathered himself. As soon as he did, he turned around and in one motion, swung towards Tommy’s head. Thankfully, the first strike, the most powerful one, missed. The next few didn’t.

…

"You killing it today," Candace said, sliding into the seat next to her. "You’re definitely finding your pocket with these songs."

"Thanks," Gayle smiled, setting her phone down as she leaned back into the plush leather couch in Lamont’s studio. "It ain’t been easy but I feel like we’re getting somewhere now."

Candace laughed. "Those breakthroughs are a motherfucker, aren’t they?"

The studio had started to filter out as engineers, writers and producers hade made their way out, signaling the end of another long day. Candace had recognized it as soon as she walked in, the nervous energy that was always palpable when an artist was no longer just making songs but in album mode, every note, every decision, ever beat towards producing a body of art that would be put out to the world for its critique and its praise. As the night had wound down, it was just the two of them with Lamont having stepped out to listen to the past few songs they had recorded by himself in another room, one of his routines when close to finishing an album.

"You want something to drink?" Gayle asked, gesturing to the mini-fridge in the corner.

"Just water is fine," she said, beginning to feel the strain on her vocal cords.

Gayle grabbed two bottles, tossing one to Candace. "So how you been?"

"Just staying busy," Candace twisted the cap off her water. "This is always a busy period for me with summer sort of bleeding right into homecoming season with shows and stuff so like this is when I get my recording done before the holidays and you know…"

Candace paused, a smile playing at her lips, "Just life stuff."

"Life stuff?" Gayle prompted, recognizing that look. It was the same expression she wore whenever she thought about Lamont.

"Yeah, life stuff," Candace took a sip of water. "What about you? You’re starting to log some years in this business."

"Yeah, it's been crazy," Gayle nodded, deciding not to push. "Trying to make this music but like also have a life."

"That’s for sure," Candace nodded, "If you just live in the studio, you’re not going to have shit to talk about on your songs. You breaking hearts out here?"

"I don’t know about that," Gayle shook her head, "It’s definitely complicated when it comes to that."

"Complicated how?"

"Just someone I probably shouldn't be messing with," Gayle shrugged, trying to sound casual. "You know how it is in this business. Everything gets messy."

"Girl, don't I know it," Candace laughed. "That's why I tried to keep my shit private this time around."

"This time around?"

Candace shook her head as she leaned it back, looking up into the ceiling. "This is actually so crazy."

"What do you mean?"

"I've actually been seeing that basketball player we met at your video shoot. Keshawn?"

Gayle almost spit up her water. "Keshawn?"

"Unless it’s two of them, yeah. We just started talking and I don’t know."

Gayle’s mind tried to put it together. Keshawn? And Candace? Her Keshawn? Awkward Keshawn? Scared-of-the-pussy-Keshawn?"

"Really?" she managed to ask, her voice steadier than she felt.

"Yeah, I don’t know, I saw him in Vegas during the summer when I was out there," Candace took another sip of water. "We just started dating and then I guess we’re like a thing now? I don’t know, I feel like such a teenage girl right now talking about this but we just really hit it off and after my last situation, I don’t need no cameras in my face asking about my man or someone asking him about me so we’ve just been keeping it on the low."

"Right." Gayle nodded mechanically. "That makes sense."

"You seem pretty surprised which I guess is a good thing? We must be doing a good job of hiding it."

Gayle forced a smile. "No, no, of course it’s a good thing. I’m just…surprised. He's... not who I would have pictured you with."

"Honestly? Me neither," Candace laughed. "But he's different. He’s just…himself, you know?"

"That's great," Gayle said, the words tasting false on her tongue. "I'm happy for you."

…

"I'm telling you, we need to stock what sells," Mateo insisted, tapping his tablet screen where a colorful sales projection glowed. "Energy drinks, kombucha, all these trendy products the younger demographic wants—they have higher margins and built-in marketing."

Elijah leaned back in his office chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. The construction sounds had finally quieted for the day, leaving only the hum of the temporary heating unit in the corner of what would soon be the main office of Chase Family Goods. Through the window, he could see the half-finished shelving units standing like skeletons under the lights.

"The younger crowd is fickle," Elijah countered. "What's hot today is forgotten tomorrow. We built our reputation on quality basics at fair prices. People remember that."

Mateo sighed, his frustration evident in the set of his shoulders. "With all due respect, Mr. Chase, that reputation didn't stop the store from struggling last time."

Elijah expected to feel that familiar flash of defensiveness, the need to remind this young man that he wasn't there, didn't understand what they'd been through. Instead, he felt something closer to resignation.

"You're right," Elijah said quietly.

Mateo blinked, clearly caught off guard.

"I get where you are coming from," Elijah repeated, rubbing a hand over his face. "The old model failed. It's not something I wish were the case but it was clearly not working."

He stood up, his knees protesting after sitting too long, and moved to the large map of the neighborhood they'd pinned to the wall. Red pins marked competing businesses, blue ones indicated schools and community centers, outlining their potential foot traffic exposure.

"But you're also wrong," Elijah continued. "Look at this area. We've got the housing development three blocks east bringing in young professionals. The community college expanded last year. But we've also got the senior living facility on Adams, and families that have been here for generations."

Mateo crossed his arms. "So?"

"So we need both. We need your fancy waters and protein drinks for the Instagram crowd," Elijah gestured toward the tablet, "But we also need affordable staples for the families that count every dollar."

"That complicates our inventory management," Mateo objected. "We'd need different suppliers, different marketing approaches—"

"Good thing we've got someone with a fancy business degree to figure it out," Elijah cut in, allowing himself a small smile.

Mateo didn't return the smile. "The financials don't support that kind of split focus. Gordon was very clear about the profit margins we need to hit in the first year."

"Gordon isn't standing in this neighborhood," Elijah said firmly. "I am. My family's name is on that sign outside, not his."

Mateo's jaw worked silently, and Elijah could almost see the calculations running behind his eyes.

"Here's what we're going to do," Elijah said, returning to his desk and pulling out a notepad. "We divide the store. Front section gets your trendy items, displayed nicely, good margins. Back half gets the basics, bulk items, generic brands. We give both a fair shot."

"And if one clearly outperforms the other?"

Elijah nodded, appreciating the question despite their disagreement. "Then we adjust. But we start by serving everyone."

Mateo hesitated, then set his tablet down on the desk. "I can work with that. But I'll need to recalculate our opening inventory."

"Do it," Elijah said. "And Mateo? I want you to walk the neighborhood this week. Not just drive through it. Walk it. Talk to people. Ask them what they want to see in the store."

"Is that really necessary? We have market research—"

"Market research doesn't tell you that some old lady on the corner has arthritis and needs her laundry detergent bottles to be small enough to lift. Or that the kids from the school down the block all stop for snacks on their way to the bus stop," Elijah tapped his temple. "That's the kind of knowledge that built this store the first time."

Mateo looked like he wanted to argue but seemed to think better of it. "Fine. I'll look into it."

"Good. Then let's get to work."

[Captain Canada]

Ain't no way Gayle upset that her high school fling bossed up? Meanwhile she fucking on married men.

[Caesar]

Scared-of-the-pussy-Keshawn?"

Stefan gonna catch a hate crime charge going behind Tommy like that because he got that bop shot

[Soapy]

Ain't no way Gayle upset that her high school fling bossed up? Meanwhile she fucking on married men.

life comes at you fast

Scared-of-the-pussy-Keshawn?"

Stefan gonna catch a hate crime charge going behind Tommy like that because he got that bop shot

hate charge wtf lmao

[Soapy]

Highlight Game: December 20th, 2025 - Golden 1 Center, Sacramento, California
(12-16) Portland Trail Blazers at Sacramento Kings (12-16)

---

POR | 29 | 30 | 31 | 33 | 123
SAC | 18 | 20 | 18 | 23 | 79

Starting Lineups
Jrue Holiday - G - Dennis Schroder
Shaedon Sharpe - G - Zach LaVine
Deni Avdija - F - DeMar DeRozan
Toumani Camara - F - Keegan Murray
Donovan Clingan - C - Domantas Sabonis



G Jrue Holiday: 8 pts, 3 reb, 6 ast, 2-6 FG, 1-4 3PT
G Shaedon Sharpe: 20 pts, 6 reb, 4 ast, 6-12 FG, 1-4 3PT, 7-10 FT
F Deni Avdija: 17 pts, 6 reb, 3 stl, 7-9 FG, 2-4 3PT
F Toumani Camara: 7 pts, reb, 3-8 FG, 0-2 3PT
C Donovan Clingan: 6 pts, 9 reb, 3-4 FG
F Keshawn Chase: 29 pts, 9 reb, 3 ast, 13-22 FG, 2-4 3PT, 1-2 FT

C Domantas Sabonis: 16 pts, 7 reb, 5-13 FG, 6-8 FT
F Dario Saric: 15 pts, 3 reb, 6-16 FG, 3-9 3PT
G Dennis Schroder: 14 pts, 5 ast, 6-12 FG, 2-6 3PT

---

(15-14) @ (12-17)

DET | 29 | 28 | 25 | 39 | 121
POR | 20 | 25 | 27 | 25 | 97

DET G Cade Cunningham: 30 Pts, 5 Reb, 6 Ast, 12-14 FG, 3-4 3PT
POR F Keshawn Chase: 6 Pts, 8 Reb, 5 Ast, 2 Stl, 3-6 FG, 0-2 3PT

---

(18-12) @ (12-18)

ORL | 35 | 28 | 29 | 22 | 114
POR | 19 | 19 | 29 | 22 | 89

ORL F Franz Wagner: 24 Pts, 5 Reb, 10-21 FG, 1-5 3PT
POR F Keshawn Chase: 6 Pts, 4 Reb, 7 Ast, 2-7 FG, 2-4 FT

Upcoming Schedule vs. Los Angeles Clippers (17-12), vs. Boston Celtics (13-16), vs. Dallas Mavericks (21-10), at Oklahoma City Thunder (20-10)
Season Stats 15.4 PPG, 7.3 RPG, 5.1 APG, 1.0 SPG, 0.6 BPG, 2.2 TOPG, 49 FG%, 31 3PT%, 71 FT%

[Agent]

Time for some big boy sliders

[Soapy]

Time for some big boy sliders

I'm still trying to figure it out. I had default sliders on but then the games were too low scoring so I bumped User/CPU tendencies all the way up since I'm using player lock and need my teammates/opponents to shoot more. I might go back to default Hall of Fame since the game does feel easier post patch.

[Soapy]

A Cold Day in Hell - Episode 10
Vic stared at the crayon marks on the wall, a wobbly purple line that ran along the baseboard of Jessica's apartment.

"I just know when she starts walking, this place is going to be a mess," Jessica said, following his gaze as she adjusted Yesenia on her hip.

"My baby going to be sprinting in a few weeks, just watch," Vic laughed. Jessica rolled her eyes but there was a hint of a smile there as well.

Vic reached for Yesenia, and this time Jessica handed her over without protest. The increasingly familiar weight of his daughter settled against his chest, her tiny hand immediately grabbing for the chain around his neck.

"So listen," Vic said, trying to keep his voice casual as he bounced Yesenia gently. "I was thinking about Christmas coming up."

Jessica's expression shifted, a wariness entering her eyes. "Yeah?"

"Well, my mom's been asking about having Yesenia over on Christmas morning. You know, so she can see her open presents and all that," he kept his tone light, conversational.

Jessica's jaw clenched. "You can’t be serious."

"I know, I know, it’s just…there’s only one first Christmas."

"I’m sorry but no," Jessica shook her head as she moved to the kitchen to fill the baby bottle with formula, creating literal distance between them.

"What about the day after? I can pick her up that night or early that next morning," he offered, knowing beforehand that was probably the best he was going to get.

Jessica shook the bottle vigorously, the formula mixing with a swishing sound that filled the tense silence. "I don't know, Vic. The holidays are really important for my family and after the year we just had…"

"Holidays are important to me too, Jess," Vic scoffed.

"Look," Jessica's voice softened slightly. "I just want her to have a normal holiday. Waking up in her own crib, opening presents under our tree. The way it's supposed to be."

The way it's supposed to be. The words stung more than they should have. Like there was something wrong with him wanting to share Christmas morning with his daughter.

"There's nothing normal about keeping her from her father on Christmas," Vic said quietly.

Jessica sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I didn't say you couldn't see her at all. Just... not on Christmas. She needs stability, Vic. A routine. I don’t want her bouncing from place to place every holiday, not knowing where home is."

Vic wanted to argue that stability could include both parents, that routine didn't mean excluding him from important moments. But he swallowed the words. Jessica had all the power here. If he pushed too hard, she could shut him out completely and get the court system involved and no matter who is cousin was, he was still a Black man in that courtroom.

…

Smoke curled up from the backyard grill as Stefan leaned against the fence, watching his younger cousins chase each other around the yard.

"You seen the Lakers game last night?" Lorenzo's voice came from behind him.

Stefan turned to see his cousin approaching with two beers. Lorenzo handed him one, the bottle already sweating in the afternoon sun.

"Nah," Stefan shook his head, taking a swig.

Lorenzo nodded, his eyes scanning the yard before settling back on Stefan.

"You still hooping over there?" Lorenzo asked, though Stefan could tell the question was just a formality, "I feel like I see you with the homies more than I be with the homies."

"Yeah, it’s whatever."

Lorenzo clicked his tongue. "You was always sorry as fuck."

"Yeah, aight, nigga. I remember your ass quitting when I started to bust your ass."

"You couldn’t bust a grape in a fruit fight, loc," Lorenzo chuckled before finally broaching the conversation he actually wanted to have, "What’s up with your girl in the hospital?"

The beer suddenly tasted sour in Stefan's mouth. He hadn't visited Alexis since that night. Hadn't called. Hadn't texted. It was easier to pretend it never happened, that he hadn't brought her to that house, that she hadn't been caught in the crossfire meant for someone else.

"Same shit," Stefan mumbled.

Lorenzo glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one was within earshot. "She talking to the police?"

"Why would she be talking to the police?" Stefan kept his voice casual, though his heart rate picked up.

"Don't play stupid with me, cuz," Lorenzo's eyes hardened. "You know that shit is an automatic parole violation. I mean, she got no reason to but a green girl like her? She’s just going to get to talking and that’s what get niggas jammed up."

Stefan shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned. "She ain't said shit. Told them she don't remember nothing about that night."

"For now," Lorenzo hissed. "But what happens when she realizes she's never gonna walk again? When she starts looking for someone to blame? She don’t know them niggas that shot her. She knows you, though."

"She ain't like that," Stefan said, but the words felt hollow even to his own ears. He barely knew Alexis, really. Just another rich girl slumming it with a basketball player from the hood.

"Everybody's like that when they're facing a life in a wheelchair," Lorenzo's fingers tightened around his beer bottle. "I just got home, loc. I can't go back inside. I won't."

The threat in his voice was unmistakable.

"She ain't gonna say shit," Stefan insisted. "I'll make sure of it."

…

"Nadia, don't be ridiculous. Of course you're going back," Nina voice cut through the living room like a knife, sharp and unwavering, despite her small stature.

Nadia stood near the living room centerpiece, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She'd chosen this moment carefully—after dinner when her grandparents were relaxed, tea cups in hand. But there was nothing relaxed now as she set her cup down with a clatter.

"I've already made my decision," Nadia replied. "I’ve always wanted to take a gap year and you guys didn’t let me so I’m taking it now."

Nina's eyes flashed. "A gap year? To do what exactly?"

"Nina—" Alon started, his weathered hand reaching toward his wife.

"No," Nina cut him off. "I won't sit here and watch her throw away everything we've worked for. Everything her parents would have wanted for her."

The mention of her parents sent a familiar ache through Nadia's chest. "Don't bring them into this."

"You are wasting the opportunities that we are affording you," Nina continued. "What is that you think you want to do? That is so important that it can’t wait until you’re done with school?"

"Stop acting like getting some piece of paper is the most important thing in the world," Nadia replied, trying to keep to her promise to herself to not get too emotional.

Alon cleared his throat. "Perhaps we could compromise. Maybe a year abroad—"

"There's no compromise here," Nina turned her glare to her husband. "She’s going back to school. We’ve let this little misguided phase that she’s going through last for too long and now she wants to drop out of school to do what, hang some posters and talk about stuff on the internet with her friends that she has no clue what she’s talking about?"

"Misguided?" Nadia's voice rose. "What exactly is misguided about what I’ve been doing? Trying to help people? Bring light to issues?"

"And how exactly will you dropping out of college stop that?" Nina demanded. "You think you're the first person to discover injustice in the world? The answer isn't abandoning your education—it's using it."

"I'm not abandoning anything," Nadia's hands balled into fists. "I'm choosing a different path."

"A path to nowhere," Nina replied coldly.

Nadia grabbed her jacket from the back of the couch, "This wasn’t me asking for your permission. I was just letting you know."

"And I’m letting you know you can find somewhere else to say if you’re not going to school," Nina fired back.

Nadia yanked the door open, her vision blurring with tears she refused to let fall.

"Bubbale, please," Alon called after her but she was already gone, slamming the door behind her with enough force to rattle the family photos on the wall—smiling faces frozen in happier times.

…

Elijah settled into the plush leather armchair, closing his laptop with a satisfying click. Outside the large bay windows of Keshawn's Portland home, snow fell in gentle flakes, blanketing the manicured lawn in white. He took a long, deep breath and felt the tension that had lived between his shoulder blades for months — no, years — finally begin to uncoil.

"Just got the final inspection clearance," he announced to no one in particular, though he knew Lorraine had heard him from the dining room. "We're officially good to go for the opening next week."

Lorraine glanced up from arranging silverware at the elegantly set table. "You hear that, guys? Your daddy finally finished something on time."

"That's not fair," Simone laughed, carefully folding cloth napkins into intricate shapes as Keshawn emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of appetizers, placing it on the dinner table.. "He’s always on time for dinner."

"That's because I'm the one cooking it," Lorraine shot back with a wink.

Elijah watched them with a quiet contentment warming his chest. The store would open in just a few days—Chase Family Market reborn after years of darkness. The shelves were stocked, the staff hired and trained, the registers tested. Even Mateo had finally stopped arguing about every decision. This, as he looked out onto his family in this beautiful home, more than anything in the world, was what he had missed, what he had longed for. He finally had it back.