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vamptizm · 2 months ago

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SNOOZE — p.bueckers i.

pairing: paige bueckers x soraya mensima (oc)

synopsis: rookie paige bueckers enters the league with confidence, charm, and a bad habit of gravitating toward things she shouldn’t want— like soraya mensima, the wings’ respected star and reluctant heartbreaker. soraya’s been here longer, knows better, and refuses to let lines blur... even as paige keeps rewriting them with every smile.

warnings: none this chapter.

word count: 3713

♯┆ masterlist .ᐟ ★

♯┆taglist (open) .ᐟ ★ @brenwritesss @bueckersbitch @ekisokay @paige05bby @sierrale8ne @ohmybueckers @pboogerswbb @yailtsv @xxloveralways14 @prettygirl-gabi @mariahthealchemist @thaatdigitaldiary @avvwritesstufff

Mornings always came to Soraya in a hush. Not silence—just hush.

The kind of quiet where the world hadn’t fully woken up yet, but the day was already waiting. Her alarm buzzed low and steady at 6:30, and like always, she rolled over and shut it off before it could sound a second time. Her limbs felt heavy, thoughts still cotton-soft, but her body moved out of bed on autopilot.

It wasn’t discipline. Not exactly. It was just what she did.

She brushed her teeth with the bathroom light still off, her shirt sagging off one shoulder, head leaned against the wall. Sleep still clung to her shoulders like a hoodie she hadn’t taken off yet. Everything in her mornings followed a rhythm she never planned—just remembered. Wash face. Drink water. Rub the sleep from her eyes. Tap her phone, squint at the time, shuffle to the kitchen.

The calm was real. The control was instinct. But that didn’t mean she didn’t let herself live a little in it.

Ten minutes later, music was bumping low from the Bluetooth speaker on her kitchen counter, something old or R&B with a bounce that made her hips move on reflex— usually SZA. She danced barefoot in her kitchen, a half-stirred matcha in one hand, the other scooping her cat up off the counter to twirl her around.

“Good morning, Jiggy,” she murmured to the tabby with a grin, kissing the top of her furry head as she swayed. The cat meowed like she’d heard it all before—and she had.

She wasn’t always a morning person, but these slow hours before the world got loud were hers. No expectations. No eyes on her. Just time to exist. To play her music. To make her own iced matcha instead of grabbing one on the way. To talk to her cat like she was her roommate. To stretch without rushing. To breathe without thinking too much.

The serenity wouldn’t last. It never did.

She knew today was the day that Paige Bueckers—the golden rookie, the newest addition to their roster—was officially joining them in practice. The group chat had been buzzing all week. People were excited. Curious. Ready to see how she'd mesh with the squad.

Soraya? She was simply aware.

She wasn’t uninterested. But she wasn’t hyped, either. New players came and went. Big names didn’t impress her. What mattered was how they played, how they moved, how they carried themselves once the ball was live. That was when Soraya started paying attention.

Until then? Another name. Another face.

She threw on a hoodie, sweatpants, slides. Her headphones slipped over her head like muscle memory. Keys. Bag. Wrist wrap tucked in the side pocket. She scratched behind her cat’s ears one last time before heading out the door, muttering, “Hold down the fort, alright?”

The gym always felt colder in the morning, like the air hadn’t warmed up with the bodies yet. Still, it buzzed faintly with life.

The locker room wasn’t loud yet—just pockets of conversation, slow greetings, sneakers squeaking against tile. Dijonai lifted her chin in a subtle nod when Soraya walked in.

“‘Bout time,” she said with a smirk.

“You been here ten minutes,” Soraya replied, slipping past her to her usual spot.

“Still longer than you.”

Arike sat on the chair in front of her locker across from them, tying up her shoes with a lazy grin. “Y’all gon be nice to Paige, or should I warn her now?”

“Don’t be looking at me,” Soraya said calmly, pulling her hoodie off. “I’m always nice.”

That earned a round of eye-rolls. The kind that came with love.

She didn’t say anything else as she started pulling on her practice gear. Just let herself sink back into the ritual. Let the outside world shrink again.

The calm was temporary. But it was hers. And she had every intention of keeping it for as long as she could—Paige Bueckers or not.

The Dallas heat felt different than Minnesota. Different than Connecticut, too. It stuck to the back of Paige's neck like warm breath, buzzing like the start of something.

New city. New team. New chapter. New everything. But the same dream.

She adjusted the duffel strap on her shoulder and took her first step into the Wings' facility, heart thudding in rhythm with her sneakers. The place smelled like fresh polish and ambition. Posters lined the walls—faces she'd watched for years. Teammates now.

It was surreal. But surreal had never scared her.

Paige Bueckers was used to pressure, it was a privilege to her. She'd lived with it stitched into her jersey since high school. UConn had sharpened her—shaped her into a leader, a killer, a headline. Now she was here to prove she could do it all again. On the biggest stage yet.

She followed a staffer through the hallways until they reached the locker room. The nameplate was already up.

#5 — Bueckers

"Welcome to the league," the staffer said with a grin.

She smiled back, but her fingers twitched with energy. She wanted to meet the team. Touch the ball. Feel the court. She wasn't nervous—just ready.

The gym wasn't loud, but it buzzed the way it always did before practice—bouncing balls, half-laughs, sneakers squeaking on the hardwood. Some players were shooting around, others stretching in lazy conversation. The atmosphere was light, the kind that made it easy to breathe.

Then the doors creaked open.

Paige walked in with her hands in her pockets, steps quiet but sure. She moved beside Chris—the Wings' new head coach—like she already belonged there, her gaze sweeping casually across the gym.

She didn't look wide-eyed. Or even excited. She looked ready. Her presence didn't demand attention—it drew it. Like gravity.

Chris clapped his hands. "Alright, bring it in for a sec."

Heads turned, voices dropped. Most of the team paused to glance over, recognizing her immediately. Paige Bueckers needed no introduction—but she got one anyway.

"This is Paige," Chris said, his voice carrying just enough to reach the edges of the court. "New addition. UConn's finest. Let's be good to her."

A few players gave nods, half-smiles. Someone muttered something about ‘damn, she’s actually here.’ Paige offered a calm smile in return, shifting her weight, perfectly at ease.

But one player didn't move.

She sat on the bench, legs man-spreading, one knee bouncing lazily. Wireless headphones covered her ears, thumbs tapping against her phone like whatever was on it was infinitely more interesting than whatever was happening across the court. Her cropped tank clung to her shoulders, shorts slung low on her hips, gum tucked into the corner of her mouth.

Chris spotted her and raised his voice slightly. "Soraya."

No reaction. He called again, louder this time. "Soraya."

The knee stopped bouncing.

A beat passed. And then—slowly, almost like it was a chore—Soraya finally glanced up. Not startled. Not guilty. Just vaguely inconvenienced. One hand lifted to slide the headphones off, resting them around her neck as she glanced over at the sound of her name.

Chris motioned her over.

Soraya didn't move right away. She took her time. Locked her phone, set it down on the bench with all the care of someone placing a drink coaster. Then she stood—unhurried, fluid—and padded across the gym floor like she was walking through her own house. She chewed her gum, slow and steady, like the world could wait.

Paige watched her approach, not with apprehension, but with quiet curiosity.

When Soraya reached them, her eyes flicked to the side, giving Paige a subtle once-over—nothing dramatic, just a glance that paused briefly on the girl's face. Her expression didn't shift. Didn't soften.

Chris gestured between them. "This is Paige, by the way."

"I know who she is," Soraya said, eyes still on Paige, not even glancing at Chris. Her voice was smooth but flat, as she drew out her words slightly around the gum.

Paige tilted her head, unfazed. "I'm a big fan of your game."

A beat.

"Thank you," Soraya replied, dry but not cold. She didn't blink. Didn't add anything. Then, after a second—like she remembered the social script—she added, "Welcome to the team."

With that, she turned around and walked back toward the bench, still chewing her gum, slow and steady. Like nothing about the moment had lingered.

Paige watched her go, grin tugging just slightly at the corner. Not offended. Not discouraged. If anything... intrigued.

Chris rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't take that personal," he said to Paige with a half-grimace. "That's just... Soraya being Soraya."

Paige didn't look away from where Soraya sat back down, already picking her phone up again. Her smile curled, small but certain. "It's all good," she murmured. "Don't worry."

And she meant it. Because if anything, Soraya Mensima hadn't pushed her away. She'd just left the door slightly ajar. And that was more than enough.

The changing room was quick—Paige didn't waste time. A fitted navy-blue practice tee and loose shorts hung comfortably on her tall frame as she re-entered the gym, tying her hair into a quick ponytail with deft fingers. Practice was minutes from officially starting, but most of the team was already deep in warmups—some chatting between stretches, some focused in silence.

Her eyes found her immediately.

Soraya was already on the court, one knee tucked in and held close, head down, laser-focused. She shifted into a stretch, arms extended and torso twisting with smooth control, her cropped tank riding slightly with the motion, revealing a toned stomach, lean muscle memory and a simple bellybutton piercing.

It wasn't even intentional, but Paige's eyes lingered.

She told herself it was curiosity. Or maybe admiration. Something technical. The way Soraya stretched said a lot—intentional, almost methodical. Like she needed it, like skipping it wasn't an option.

Paige was already forming half-thought-out sentences in her head. ‘Hey, how's your—‘ no, too awkward. ‘I liked the way you played at the olymp—‘ no, too fan-girly. She was still mulling it over when she felt a hand slap her shoulder.

She turned and found Arike Ogumbowale grinning at her, towel around her neck.

"Glad you made it," Arike said, offering a warm, casual nod. "Welcome to Texas."

Paige smiled. "Thank you, I appreciate it. Grateful to be here."

The moment was brief but genuine. Around them, laughter bubbled up from teammates mid-convo. Paige exchanged a few dap-ups and fist bumps, but in the midst of all the noise, her attention kept flicking back to Soraya—who hadn't looked up once.

Not when Paige walked in. Not when Arike greeted her. Not when her name echoed around the gym. Soraya remained in her own world, twisting carefully into hip openers, her eyes distant but not empty. Just... uninterested.

Still, Paige leaned closer to Arike and spoke quietly, like it was just between them. "Is she having a bad day?" Her tone was soft, thoughtful. No judgment, just open curiosity.

Arike let out a short laugh, glancing over at Soraya. "This is actually one of her better days," she said, stretching out a leg and pointing her toe toward the ceiling. "She's overjoyed right now."

Paige raised an eyebrow, half amused.

Dijonai, close enough to hear, rolled her eyes playfully as she leaned into a butterfly stretch beside them. "Don't listen to her. Raya's a sweetheart once she warms up to you, don't worry. She's just... closed off. Has to like you first."

Paige nodded slowly. "Got it. Locked vault."

Just as Dijonai opened her mouth to say more, a foot nudged her back from behind—not hard, but enough to make her pause mid-thought.

Soraya passed by, gum still in her mouth, her movement casual and unbothered as she made her way toward the opposite end of the court. She didn't even stop, didn't look over, but her voice floated back to Dijonai, low and cool. "You talkin' shit?"

Dijonai grinned. "Always."

And there—just for a blink—Soraya's lips twitched. The faintest smile. Gone before it could linger.

Paige's eyes followed her, subtle and steady, watching the way her frame moved through slow lunge twists across the court. Every step controlled, deliberate, like she knew someone was watching but didn't care. Or maybe... because someone was watching.

Chris blew his whistle once, sharp and clear. "Circle up for ball-handling warmups."

And just like that, the spell broke. But Paige still hadn't looked away. Not yet.

They circled up quickly, falling into the rhythm of routine as the assistant coach began calling out their first drill set.

Paige slid into position next to Dijonai, palms open and knees bent. She moved fluidly through the warmup, a natural with the ball even in simple handling drills. Left hand, right hand, crossovers, behind the back—clean, sharp movements honed over years of repetition.

"Damn," someone muttered a few spots down. "She really don't miss."

Soraya didn't respond, but she heard it. Of course she did, she always heard everything.

Instead, she focused on her own dribbling—smoother than most, with that effortless sort of rhythm that looked like muscle memory. One hand, then the other. Bounce, bounce, tap, switch. Controlled. Focused. Unrushed. She didn't even glance up when Paige ended the set with a clean spin dribble.

Not that Paige was doing it for show. It wasn't about proving anything. She'd spent years in the spotlight; her ego didn't crave the attention. But still... she noticed Soraya hadn't looked her way once.

‘Not even a side-eye? Damn.’

They rotated partners, and Paige found herself opposite Arike for a passing drill. Quick bounce passes, then overheads, then no-look. Arike was a livewire, laughing between reps and keeping up the energy like she was born for it.

"You'll like it here," Arike told her between passes. "We don't do drama. Not on this roster."

Paige caught the ball and fired it back, quick hands. "I like that. Less noise."

"Exactly. We just hoop. Raya's the only one who acts like she gets paid to hate people, but deep down she's got a soul," Arike said with a wink. "A tiny one. Buried deep."

Paige smirked. "Good to know."

The drill shifted again, and this time, by chance or fate, she rotated to stand next to Soraya for the cone weave.

They didn't speak.

Soraya's gum popped once between her teeth as she waited for her turn, arms crossed loosely over her chest, her face unreadable as always. Paige lined up behind her, quiet but observant. The distance between them wasn't much—less than two feet—but it felt like two different planets orbiting the same court.

Soraya went first, weaving through the cones with calculated precision. No wasted movement. Her body low, her dribble tight, her steps clean and measured. She didn't look around, didn't pause for praise. Just finished and stepped off to the side.

Paige took her turn next. And she could feel Soraya's gaze on her now. Not obvious. Not piercing. But there.

‘Finally.’

When she finished her set and rejoined the group, Soraya didn't say anything. Didn't nod. Didn't offer even a scrap of acknowledgment. But Paige swore she saw her glance down—at her shoes maybe, or her stance, or something—before quickly looking away.

Another whistle.

"Alright, split up—guards and forwards. Let's get some shooting reps going."

The team began scattering into position. As Paige jogged across the court, Dijonai leaned in just close enough to whisper, "Like you said. Locked vault."

Paige smiled to herself. Not smug, not triumphant. Just... intrigued.

And for the first time that morning, Soraya glanced over her shoulder. Just once. Then turned back around.

The final whistle echoed through the gym, a sharp sound that cut clean through the lingering bounce of basketballs and the hum of fluorescent lights overhead.

Bodies eased to the floor in patches across the court. A few players sprawled out flat, arms flung over their eyes. Others leaned into lazy stretches, sweat dripping down their temples, breathing slowing. Though light in intensity, the practice had still worked them—drills, shot reps, spacing, conditioning to finish. Enough to leave everyone aching, but not flattened.

Soraya sat cross-legged near the baseline, her back resting lightly against the wall padding. Her headphones were already back on, though only one ear was covered, letting in just enough of the world around her to stay aware. A towel draped across her neck, dampening the sweat along her collarbones as she slowly rolled her ankle in a circle, then switched legs. Her eyes were low-lidded, her expression unreadable. Even at rest, there was something alert about her. Something quietly coiled.

On the opposite side of the court, Paige stood by the water cooler, one hand gripping a cold bottle, the other casually holding a towel to the side of her face. She wasn't soaked like some of the others, but she'd worked—her shoulders loose, her arms slightly heavy. Her gaze drifted across the gym, tracking familiar sounds, new voices, and then, almost without thinking, it found Soraya.

Still. Unbothered. Like the whole practice hadn't touched her.

She'd been silent the entire session. No fist bumps. No sideline jokes. Not even a casual word during partner passing. But she'd moved like a pro—tight footwork, quick releases, court vision sharp enough to cut. Paige had noticed. It was hard not to.

"Deadass thought my lungs were gonna leave my body," one of the rookies—Aziah—groaned, collapsing face-down beside the free throw line.

"You'll survive," Arike called out from the bench, tying her braids into a messy bun with a flick of her wrist. "Barely."

"That conditioning was rude," Dijonai added with a breathy chuckle, rolling out her shoulders. "Coach got jokes now?"

"Don't worry," Soraya said lazily from the baseline, her voice not rising above the buzz of chatter, but still managing to cut through it. "He hates us all equally."

A few heads turned. Laughter flickered. Even Chris, still mid-huddle with the assistant coaches, glanced over with a faint grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Paige's lips twitched. There it was again—that dry bite, that edge tucked inside Soraya's otherwise cool demeanor. She took another sip of water, then lowered the bottle, hesitating.

She should probably let it be.

But instead, she wandered across the court, her steps loose and unhurried. She didn't approach like someone trying to make a point—just someone passing through. She stopped a few feet away, pausing when Soraya finally looked up.

The girl's expression didn't shift. She tugged her right headphone down, gum still tucked into the back of her cheek as she looked Paige over in that same detached way she had earlier that morning.

"Lost?" she asked, tone dry, barely curious.

"Nope," Paige replied, crouching down to meet her at eye level. "Just figured this was the calmest I've seen you all morning."

Soraya raised an eyebrow, her face unreadable, then slowly popped her gum once.

"I was gonna say you were great today," Paige added, her tone easy, genuine. "But you probably already know that."

"Probably." Soraya shrugged one shoulder, then returned to massaging behind her knee, her fingertips methodical, practiced.

A moment passed. The kind that could've turned awkward if either of them flinched. Neither did.

"You don't talk much, huh?" Paige asked, smiling faintly.

"I talk when there's something worth saying."

Paige tilted her head, amused. "You don't think welcoming the new teammate is worth saying?"

"Already did," Soraya said, her tone as flat as her expression. "Might've missed it if you blinked."

That actually got a soft chuckle out of Paige. "Fair enough." The quiet settled again, but this time it felt a little different.

"I meant it earlier, by the way," Paige said after a beat. "I really am a fan of your game."

Soraya's eyes lingered on her for a moment. Not hard, not soft. Just watching. "Thanks," she said finally. A pause. And then, "You're not bad either."

The compliment—if it was one—was spoken without inflection, but it felt intentional. Like she didn't waste words unless she meant them.

From the bench, Arike had paused mid-sip of her Gatorade, elbowing Dijonai with a smirk. "They're talking," she said under her breath, eyes locked on the two of them.

"No way," Dijonai whispered back, dramatically widening her eyes. "She's letting a new person breathe near her?"

"She must be feeling generous."

Back near the baseline, Soraya stood without warning, wiping her hands on her shorts before swinging her bag over one shoulder. Paige rose too, taking a small step back to give her space.

"You always this chill after practice?" Paige asked lightly.

Soraya glanced over, and for the first time that day, her expression shifted. A subtly raised brow. "Always this curious?"

"Maybe."

That earned the blonde another faint pop of gum. No eye roll. No smile. But something about her energy had shifted—still cool, still remote, but no longer as closed off.

"Alright, Bueckers," Soraya said, already turning toward the locker room. "Catch you later."

"You will," Paige called after her, the easy grin tugging back at her lips.

Soraya didn't answer. Just slid her headphones fully on and walked off, tank riding up slightly with each step, exposing the sharp dip of her waistline and the faintest gleam of sweat trailing down her spine.

Dijonai waited until the gym doors closed behind her before spinning toward Paige with a grin. "Ima be honest, that went better than I expected."

"I didn't get cussed out," Paige replied, grabbing her towel again, "so I'm calling it a win."

Arike raised a brow. "She bumped you during warm-ups and you still went over there?"

"I was curious," Paige said with a shrug. "Still am."

"Dangerous hobby," Nalyssa muttered, slinging her bag over one shoulder.

"Don't say we didn't warn you," Arike added, grabbing her slides.

Paige didn't respond right away. She just looked toward the door Soraya had walked through, eyes thoughtful. "I think I'll take my chances."

#⇢ ˗ˏˋ vamptizm writes ࿐ྂ #snooze ᯓᡣ𐭩 #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #dallas wings #wnba #paige bueckers x female oc #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfiction #wnba x oc

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the-font-bandit · 2 days ago

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7 Album Game

Thank you @strugglinggranola for the tag!

ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ: you just got a kind of shitty old car and it doesn't have bluetooth. you can only buy 7 CDs and you can't repeat an artist. what are you getting?

In no particular order:

Violator - Depeche Mode

The Strange Case Of... - Halestorm

Absolution - Muse

The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner - Ben Folds Five

The Matrix soundtrack

Who Watches Over Me - Mesh

Visual Audio Sensory Theater - VAST

Tagging if you want to play: @themontess @brennacedria @casa-dei-corvei @annchovi @jenn2d2 @redheadsramblings

#music #tag game

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welcome-to-the-drive-in · 29 days ago

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Chapter 2: That Boy with the Wolf Eyes

You can always tell when something’s about to change. It’s in the air—the way the wind shifts just before a summer storm, or how the ocean goes quiet right before the tide pulls back. I didn’t know it yet, but everything was about to change the moment I saw him.

Not when I unpacked my pink duffel bags or when Madea threatened to throw my phone into the sound if I didn’t sit at the dinner table properly. Not even when she told me the house rule was “no crying over boys, especially white ones with family money and no damn sense.”

But it was the next day, at a Kook beach party, when I saw him. And that’s when the shift came.

⸻

It started that morning when Madea burst into my room like she was kicking down the door to a crime scene.

“Get up, Miss Thang! We got church in the morning and sand in the evening. Tia’s coming to pick you up.”

I groaned under the pink satin sheets. “Who is Tia again?”

“The girl who’s gonna keep you from acting like a fool on this island. Now get dressed—and for the love of Jesus, don’t wear nothing that shows your… extras.”

I rolled my eyes, reaching for a white lace two-piece set. “It’s just a beach party,” I mumbled.

Madea squinted. “A beach party that turns into a funeral if somebody catches feelings or liquor. I done seen too many of these.”

She left me alone, but her warning stuck like honey in the back of my mind.

I dressed anyway. A high-waisted pink bikini under a sheer mesh dress, little white jelly sandals with glitter bows, a butterfly anklet, and my gold nameplate necklace that read “Brielle.” Hair up in a curly half-pony with edges slicked. My skin glowed under the Carolina sun. Cute, but not doing too much.

Just enough to make them remember I’m not from around here.

⸻

Tia pulled up blasting Flo Milli. She had braids down to her waist, edges decorated with rhinestone cuffs, and her nails were long, French-tipped, and dangerous.

“You ready to shut this beach down, Malibu?” she grinned, chewing her gum like she owned the coast.

We rode down to the southern edge of Kildare’s shoreline, where all the rich Kooks partied away the summer like there was no world beyond their yachts and bonfires. I’d seen it on TikTok, but in real life? It felt louder, messier, hotter. Boys with sun-kissed hair, girls in designer bikinis and linen two-pieces, drinks in red cups, music bumping from a Bluetooth speaker bigger than my suitcase.

And then, there was him.

Rafe Cameron. Leaning against his truck in a loose white tee and khaki shorts, curls messy, jawline so sharp it could slice air. His eyes were cold, blue-gray, wild. Like a storm trapped behind glass. He was laughing about something, holding a beer bottle, and surrounded by boys who looked like they either ran Wall Street or would light a house on fire just to see what happens.

Tia leaned over and whispered, “That’s him. Rafe. Don’t stare too long or he’ll think you’re interested.”

Too late. I was already staring.

And then—he looked up. Eyes locking with mine like he felt it, too.

Something in my stomach flipped. He gave me a once-over, slow and lazy, like he had all the time in the world to undress me with his eyes. But then he smirked. That crooked, cocky smirk. And turned away.

Oh, so he’s one of those.

⸻

The party was chaos wrapped in sunshine. We played volleyball, swam, and danced to music that bounced off the waves. I tried not to watch Rafe too much, but he was everywhere. Moving through the crowd like he owned it, laughing too loud, touching too much. He was magnetic and messy.

Then, out of nowhere, he came over.

“You’re new,” he said, standing so close I could smell the mix of sea salt, beer, and expensive cologne.

“You’re observant.” I popped the straw in my coconut water and sipped it slow.

Rafe laughed. “Cute. Where you from, princess?”

“Atlanta. But now I’m with Madea.”

That got his attention. “Wait… You’re Madea’s granddaughter?”

“Unfortunately for you, yeah. She said not to talk to you.”

His smirk grew. “Smart woman.”

I tilted my head. “Then why are you here?”

He shrugged. “I like trouble.”

And just like that, I was hooked—and I hated it.

⸻

We talked the rest of the afternoon. Not deep conversations—just teasing, flirting, challenging each other. He made fun of my pink phone case. I made fun of his bare feet. He told me I looked like I came from a dollhouse. I told him he looked like he fell out of a frat basement.

And somehow, it was fun.

Until it wasn’t.

⸻

Later that night, when the fire was burning low and most people were already drunk or passed out on towels, I went looking for Tia. Instead, I found Rafe leaning against his truck, laughing with two of his boys.

I started to call out to him, but then I heard my name.

“Bro, what’s up with the pink chick?” one of them asked.

“Brielle?” Rafe scoffed. “She’s just fun. Ain’t nothing serious.”

My stomach dropped.

“She’s kinda into me, though,” he added. “You know how girls like her get. Spoiled. Loud. I let her hang around. Madea would kill me if I actually tried anything.”

They all laughed. Rafe clinked his bottle against theirs. “Cute, though. Real cute.”

I felt the tears sting before I even moved. But I didn’t cry. Not in front of them. I just turned, heels digging into the sand, and walked back toward the water.

He didn’t see me. Or maybe he didn’t care.

⸻

Tia found me an hour later, sitting by the shore with my arms wrapped around my knees, sand sticking to my legs, and makeup smudged just enough to piss me off.

“I heard,” she said softly.

I didn’t answer.

“You okay?”

“No.”

“You want to go home?”

“Yes.”

And that’s what we did. No more cute comebacks. No more games. I went home, took off my makeup, peeled out of my pink dress, and curled up in bed wearing one of Madea’s oversized T-shirts.

The text from Rafe came around midnight.

Rafe: You good?

Rafe: You disappeared.

I left it on read.

⸻

The next morning, Madea didn’t even ask. She just handed me a plate of waffles and said, “You look like you learned something.”

“I did,” I mumbled.

“Good. Learning hurts. That’s how you know it’s working.”

I stared at my waffles, my nameplate necklace resting just above my collarbone, and wondered why it hurt so much when I knew he was trouble.

But I also knew this wasn’t the end. Not with Rafe. Trouble might not last forever… but it never really goes away either.

⸻

End of Chapter 2

#black girl aesthetic #madea #malibu barbie #rafe fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #tyler perry

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under0-0s · 2 months ago

Note

"This is just a typical question" she started placing his coffee on his table as he worked.

"You know just stuff you come across" she said, "hypothetically if there was a drone which was simply not shutting because it happens to be designed to use any nearby energy source to recharge and is now collecting data from any and all computers it finds. How would you suggest someone shut it off?" She asks, moving back and forth on her heels.

"And bashing it with a bat didn't work"

- @cursed-with-knowledge

Tony didn't even look up as the coffee was set down—his hand automatically found it, fingers curling around the mug like it was muscle memory at this point. He sipped, let out a slow breath, and then raised an eyebrow.

“Hm,” he said, tone casual, like they were talking about grocery lists and not a rogue drone pulling data like a nosy teenager with unlimited screen time. “Hypothetically,” he echoed, swiveling in his chair with a faint creak as he finally looked at her, expression caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

“So, you’ve got a bat-immune energy-leeching data vampire. Sounds like a fun Thursday.”

He set the mug down, tapped his fingers on the armrest. “First? You isolate the network. Cut off Wi-Fi, Bluetooth, any shortwave—it’s drinking juice from whatever it can find, so stop feeding the beast. Step two? EMP burst. Small-scale, targeted. But not inside the house unless you want to kiss your devices goodbye.”

A pause. His gaze sharpened.

“And third? You trap it. Faraday cage it if you can—metal mesh, copper lining, microwave shell if you’re desperate. Keep it from sniffing out new power.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking far too entertained.

“And step four... figure out which brilliant genius designed a learning-capable drone that doesn’t understand the word ‘off’.” He tilted his head. “Unless it’s not a genius. Unless it’s a tinkering teenager with a penchant for chaos and no safety protocols.”

#iron man #tony stark #avengers #avengers assemble #peter parker #the avengers #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel comics #marvel movies #roleplay #roleplay blog #roleplay promo #rp blog #rp finder #new rp #rp #ask blog

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which-item-poll · 1 year ago

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piano vs drum kit

#which item poll #musical instruments #piano #drums #drum kit #music #instruments #polls #poll game #random polls #guitarcenter

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jigarpanchal · 23 days ago

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From Disconnected to Smart: MeshTek’s Visionary IoT Solution

MeshTek’s cutting-edge IoT solution — transforming outdated, disconnected systems into intelligent, connected environments. On one side, the image shows a dull, inefficient urban setting; on the other, a smart city alive with drones, AI integration, and smart lighting powered by MeshTek’s Bluetooth Mesh technology

#IoT solution #MeshTek #smart city technology #Bluetooth mesh #intelligent automation #real-time control #connected infrastructure #IoT transformation #smart lighting #future tech

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utopicwork · 7 months ago

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hi Agie, will pier mesh be accessible from devices like ipad? I am disabled and unable to use a proper computer

Yes! Any device that can use a browser should work though if you are setting up a node you may have to use Bluetooth to turn on the browser interface

#PierMesh

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thesilliestrovingalive · 10 months ago

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Updated: May 10, 2025

Reworked Character #5: Trevor Spacey

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to child abuse, neglect, suicide, death, crime, and drug addiction.

Real name: Yeong-Gi Kwon

Alias: Argentum Chill

Occupation: Sergeant of the P.F. Squad

Retirement plans: Become a security programmer

Special skills: Proficiency in security programming, computer hacking, and coding, repurposing captured enemy software, nunchakujutsu, taekwondo, and knifemanship

Hobbies: Helping Marco with technological issues and computer programming, doing graffiti on abandoned buildings, creating anti-virus programs, hacking into people’s accounts to see what they’re up to, and playing darts and video games

Likes: Marco’s heroism and superior computer skills, tinkering with security software while listening to progressive metal, EDM, video game soundtracks, and K-pop, the nunchucks that once belonged to a former friend named Haneul, used goods, and Nadia

Dislikes: Laughing so much to the point he’s coughing and wheezing, people who spread confidential information from huge databases, having to work on the keyboard all day, faulty security software, and being hacked

Favourite food: Samgyeopsal

Favourite drink: Slushies (preferably blue raspberry, fruit punch, pineapple, and orange)

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Gender: Male

Age: 13 (in 2022), 19 (in 2028), 21 (in 2030), 23 (in 2032), 25 (in 2034), 32 (in 2041), 34 (in 2043), 35 (in 2044), and 38 (in 2047)

Blood type: AB-

Weight: 148 lbs. (67 kg)

Design: He's a 5' 9" (175.26 cm) Korean ectomorph with a lanky build, a weak musculature, sloping shoulders, warm ivory skin, dark brown eyes, nails painted a silver-grey, and a black mole beneath the left corner of his lip. His hair is styled similarly to Trevor Spacey's from Metal Slug 4, featuring a jet-black undercut topped with icy blonde locks that appear silvery in the sunlight. Right below his upper back, he has a large tattoo depicting a fiery Jindo dog chasing a golden pheasant in orbit around the moon. His lower right leg was amputated due to gangrene caused by the use of the opioid Krokodil, and has since been replaced with a bronze-hued prosthetic. He bears several scars: a curved scar on his left cheek; an X-shaped pair on his chest; a jagged stab wound on the top of his right hand; and a long scar running down the length of his left upper arm.

Trevor's military gear consists of a metal dog tag necklace with his name, a scarlet bandana worn around his neck, bronze-plated goggles with orange-tinted lenses, and glaucous fingerless gloves. He wears a ruddy blue sweater adorned with two deep pockets, a cerulean wool lining, a bronze zipper, scarlet cuffs featuring silver-edged black bands at their centres, and an embroidered P.F. Squad logo on the back. When not worn, the sweater is often tied securely around his waist, its sleeves knotted. He wears baggy old lavender army cargo pants, held up by a glaucous belt, and tucked into his red-orange paratrooper boots, which have knives concealed in the heels. He also wears a sleeveless reddish-black shirt with a mock neck and a bust mesh panel. He has two drop leg holsters, each featuring a vertical dark greenish-yellow line running along the centre, designed for his combat knives, and a holster for his handgun.

He carries around a bag of THC-infused red and light pink box gummies, flavoured like raspberry and watermelon, a gift from Ralf after their victorious battle against the Invaders, symbolising their newfound friendship. The pockets of Trevor's sweater carry a gourd-shaped jade charm necklace believed to capture fortune and health. He also carries around a metallic pink-purple lighter and a plastic bag that contains six weed joints. A claw hammer is concealed in the right pocket of his cargo pants, while the left pocket is occupied by a bluish-purple sound-cancelling, bluetooth headset and his cellphone with a metallic blue case and a red marble PopSocket.

Over his shirt, he wears a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries his walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. A black bandolier is wrapped above his belt, holding onto the ammunition for his handgun. He carries an old lavender load-bearing backpack containing camping equipment, tactical explosives, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, seven cans of spray paint in different colours (metallic copper, rusty orange, sunflower yellow, neon green, teal, pastel pink, and dark purple), a wide range of hacking tools such as the Flipper Zero and O.MG cables, and nunchucks. It features unique technology that he repurposed from the Amadeus Syndicate, which he stole: shock mines that electrocute individuals to the point of paralysis, and a gunbot that utilises any handgun ammunition and 7.62mm FMJ rounds he carries to fire at enemies. It also contains a blue-green laptop featuring three central silver stripes on its lid, which he often uses for hacking and security programming.

He has an extensive collection of piercings, which he got during his involvement with a gang in his younger years. His collection includes sapphire wire hook earrings, black industrial piercings, dark blue tragus piercings, a silver nose bridge barbell, and a gold horizontal eyebrow piercing. Completing his look are a metallic purple frog eyes tongue piercing and a gold hoop vertical labret piercing.

Character summary: He's a stoic, assertive existentialist who focuses on what he can control, accepts what lies beyond his grasp, and believes in the power of individual free will to shape the course of one's life. He's a highly intelligent, cunning, and resourceful man who’s confident in his knife skills and computer knowledge, but can come across as overconfident at times. Despite Trevor’s easy-going demeanour and calm smile, he’s watchful, and his jovial nature often serves as a facade to conceal his underlying anxiety. He's easily amazed and intrigued by the wonders of nature, unexpected revelations, explosions, and impressive feats performed by his friends and comrades such as effortlessly hacking into an entire military mainframe. When discussing his interests or sharing fascinating experiences, he becomes quite talkative.

Trevor is a gentle-hearted ambivert capable of being ruthless, intensely serious, and unsettling when the situation demands it. He's a skilled manipulator, able to turn enemies into allies in desperate situations by exploiting their morals and convincing them they're in the wrong. When manipulating others, he also instills fear through physical and psychological torment, such as breaking their fingers with a hammer or threatening to kill a loved one in front of them. However, he's unexpectedly stubborn when it comes to protecting those he cares about and the lives of innocent people. He often presumptuously asks questions about everyone and sometimes thinks he says unnecessary things, even when they're harmless. In reality, he has read through a significant portion of the Regular Army's documents, which has led him to know too much and read too many classified files. As a result, Trevor has become paranoid, believing that there are agents everywhere.

He holds immense respect for Marco, whom he regards as a role model for excellence in computer science, and enjoys assisting him with investigations and tech projects. He values Marco as a genius programmer and won't tolerate anyone who dares to insult his good friend's impressive work. Trevor has a high-pitched scream, which he's somewhat self-conscious about. However, after befriending Walter, who shares a similarly youthful voice, he has gained more confidence. The two often laugh together about the absurdity of their voices. He enjoys tagging along with Tarma, Marco, Eri, and Ralf because he regards them as role models, skilled fighters, and experts in their respective fields of expertise.

He has a playful and mischievous streak, evident in his habit of licking his combat knives and taunting those he considers “morally weak” and “blindly stupid”. Unlike most people, he's willing to forgive his enemies when he realises they're suffering and have an opportunity to redeem themselves. He's a high achiever who takes pride in his diligent work ethic, but occasionally succumbs to bouts of laziness, particularly when he’s high. Trevor is surprisingly internet savvy and enjoys using internet slang in both his online and offline conversations with most of his friends, often finding humour in it.

Due to his bleached hair, people often jokingly refer to him as "old”, which greatly annoys him. However, he chooses to keep his feelings to himself, preferring not to stir up trouble. Whenever someone he admires, like Marco, calls him "old”, he feels a pang of emptiness inside and becomes noticeably melancholic. On the other hand, when people jokingly refer to him as "Trevor Spicy”, he seems unimpressed, responding with either the silent treatment or a blunt "bug off" accompanied by a deadpan expression. However, he's perplexed by his popularity among women, who admire his physique and exceptional computer skills.

He occasionally participates in Nadia's antics, adding a touch of dramatic flair to them, but will draw the line when her schemes exceed his comfort zone. He’s often disappointed and shocked by Nadia's actions and words, frequently expressing his distaste and uncertainty. When he's extremely bored, he becomes lethargic and sleepy, making it challenging for him to muster interest in anything until the feeling passes. Trevor cherishes Nadia's friendship, admiring her confidence, optimism, understated intelligence, and playful humour, which helps him unwind and find gratitude in his life. He's driven to protect and understand Nadia, fearing that losing her would leave her confused and hurt. Nadia's charm has captivated him, but he's uncertain whether his feelings are rooted in platonic affection or romance as he's still grappling with the complexities of true love.

He holds an extreme disdain for illegal substances and champions the responsible and lawful use of substances. If he notices that one of his friends or comrades is struggling with a drug addiction, he'll go out of his way to provide them with comfort and try to help them break away from that addiction. Due to his upbringing, he struggles with golden child syndrome, but he has made significant progress in overcoming its challenges, thanks in large part to the support of friends like Fio.

He's struggling to come to terms with the loss of Haneul, his first true friend, who not only taught him essential survival skills but also introduced him to the world of graffiti art and fostered his passion for security programming and hacking. He's extremely allergic to felines, so he regards domestic cats as “diabolical little buggers” and makes every effort to avoid them. He hates how Perifa often likes to bug him for cuddles and how Marco is a "cat magnet", which attracts cats that exacerbate his allergies.

He doesn't like it when Sagan is around and playfully teasing him; he finds her really annoying and stubbornly persistent. It’s even worse when she tries to strike up a flirty conversation, leaving him feeling sexually confused. Trevor feels uncomfortable with how she toys with his emotions, which often results in him feeling incredibly awkward. He frequently ignores her, rudely telling her off and walking away with a straight face. There are times when he hides behind his friends or role models to create a barrier between himself and her. Overall, he finds her intimidating, which undermines his soldier-like courage.

Through Walter, he befriended Roberto, whom he gets along quite well with. He understands Roberto's disgust, hatred, and fear of body horror because he also finds it gross and unnecessarily upsetting, especially during battle. Whenever they encounter gory threats, he always covers Roberto's eyes to reduce the likelihood of severe panic. He has also formed a friendship with Leona, and they seem to be very chill and understanding of each other. While not much is known about their relationship, it's clear that he often listens to her problems and philosophical musings.

Backstory: Yeong-Gi Kwon was born on June 25, 2009 in Seogwipo, Jeju Island, South Korea. He is the eldest of four siblings: his twin sister, Eun-Gyeong; his younger brother, Il-Seong; and his youngest brother, Seok-Jin. His father is a businessman who owns a computer software company, and his mother is a medical engineer. His parents, who were workaholics, put a lot of pressure on him and his siblings to be high achievers, believing that more effort and hard work would lead to a successful career. However, they were quick to forgive the faults of Yeong-Gi and Eun-Gyeong, allowing them to get away with more than their two younger brothers. As the oldest children in the family, his parents put a lot of pressure on him and his twin sister to set a good example and be proper role models for their two younger brothers.

This parenting style fed into Yeong-Gi and Eun-Gyeong's need to consistently achieve, satisfying their perfectionistic and people-pleasing tendencies. Nevertheless, it also stirred an inflated sense of self in both, with Eun-Gyeong exhibiting signs of narcissistic personality disorder and Yeong-Gi experiencing a great deal of guilt on behalf of his two younger brothers. In contrast, Il-Seong was often scapegoated, frequently blamed for things he didn't do and severely punished by his parents, who would often lock him in the basement for hours. Meanwhile, Seok-Jin was neglected, retreating from his dysfunctional family by spending time alone in his room drawing or going to the park to play by himself. Yeong-Gi made a concerted effort to support Il-Seong and Seok-Jin, which undoubtedly brought some comfort and solace into their lives.

At the age of 3, Yeong-Gi received his first computer from his parents as a gift of appreciation. By the time he turned 7 years old, he had already developed a comprehensive understanding of binary codes and computer languages. During his summer breaks from school, he spent most of his time creating anti-virus programs, which often served as his homework assignments.

However, his dedication to his work left him with little time to spend with his two younger brothers, Il-Seong and Seok-Jin; however, he did manage to sneak in some time to read books on psychology, listen to K-pop, and play video games with Eun-Gyeong. His parents heavily encouraged his efforts, as he strove to make a positive impact on his school. Ultimately, his hard work paid off, as the school he formerly attended continued to utilise his sophisticated anti-virus programs to combat growing threats from the Internet.

By the time he enrolled in secondary school, his twin sister, Eun-Gyeong, mysteriously vanished. She was last seen with her friends near a shopping mall. Although their relationship was complicated due to her narcissistic tendencies and disrespect towards their younger brothers, Yeong-Gi still cared deeply for her. He had often tried to help her, teaching her the value of humility and assisting her with homework she struggled to understand. He was utterly devastated when his parents announced her disappearance, and it made headlines in the news. A part of him felt lost that day, and the family's desperate search efforts ultimately proved futile. Despite their best efforts, Eun-Gyeong was never found by the authorities and remains missing to this day.

Despite the tragic disappearance of his sister, Yeong-Gi continued to excel in all his classes, but the pressure on him to become successful and be a role model intensified. As he finished grade 10 and summer break began, tragedy struck again when Il-Seong took his own life, sending Yeong-Gi spiralling into an identity crisis. He ran away from home and sought solace with Feodosiy, a Russian transfer student he had befriended in grade 9.

Feodosiy introduced him to his street gang and offered him his first dose of the opioid Krokodil, which Yeong-Gi accepted without hesitation. He became a delinquent, rebelling against his parents and their mistreatment of him and his siblings, but at the cost of becoming addicted to Krokodil. He frequently injected Krokodil into his lower legs to avoid scarring his arms with needle marks, which were easier to conceal with long pants. He bleached his hair to an icy blonde, adopted the alias Trevor Spacey, acquired multiple piercings, and got a tattoo from Haneul, Feodosiy's trusted right-hand man.

For three months, he lived with Feodosiy and his street gang, surviving by stealing essentials and inhabiting a rundown apartment. During this time, he engaged in various criminal activities, including theft, mugging, drug dealing, extortion, and arson. With Haneul's guidance, he honed his knifemanship skills and mastered the art of taekwondo and nunchakujutsu. However, his Krokodil addiction spiralled out of control, leading to a near-fatal overdose, which led to the subsequent amputation of his lower right leg. This traumatic experience forever deterred him from using street drugs.

After receiving medical help from Feodosiy's gang members, he returned to a life of crime, although at a reduced level because he was still adjusting to his prosthetic leg. He eventually abandoned his delinquency after accidentally killing a junkie behind a restaurant. Haunted by the incident, he remembered gazing at his reflection in a seedy restaurant's mirror, realising he had gone too far. The deep-seated fear of arrest drove him to the brink of madness, and he decided to eliminate Feodosiy, who had dragged him into crime.

After orchestrating the demise of Feodosiy and his cohorts, he scrubbed himself clean in the bathroom of the rundown apartment where Feodosiy had been staying. He then returned home, where his parents, relieved to see him, sensed the guilt and shame etched on his face for mistreating their children. Seok-Jin was also relieved to see him come home, fearing that he would never return. He confessed to them about his experiences, but kept his murders and certain crimes a secret.

He returned to high school, completing his remaining years successfully, embracing his new identity. Upon returning home from his graduation ceremony, he planned to attend university and study security programming. He shared his aspirations with his parents and Seok-Jin, who quickly offered their support, recognizing his passion for computers and programming. Before applying to university, he worked as a graffiti artist, selling his art to save money for his post-secondary education. But his plans were put on hold due to the Great Modern War, which had depleted the Regular Army's forces. As a result, Trevor was conscripted into the military before his 20th birthday, becoming one of the few individuals in Korea to be enlisted.

He had never intended to join the military, hoping to avoid combat altogether, but he reluctantly accepted his fate, knowing he couldn't defy the conscription system. Leveraging his expertise in knifemanship, nunchakujutsu, and computer languages, he joined as a military scout in the Regular Army. Although he rarely talks to his family, he often tries to stay connected with them, especially Seok-Jin, who’s currently working as a medical officer for the South Korean military. Trevor initially worked at a security office at the Regular Army's Gerhart City base, which allowed him to better utilise his talents.

Three months after enlisting, he befriended Nadia, formerly a tactical scientist for the Amadeus Syndicate, and thwarted a computer virus that Marco had inadvertently released. After being free from street drugs for a long time, he learned that marijuana was legalised in Canada from a fellow comrade and decided to try it. During a trip to Alberta, where he and Nadia admired the province's stunning natural beauty, he visited a licenced cannabis store and purchased 30 grams of legally produced cannabis. This experience led to him developing a mild marijuana habit, which helped alleviate his anxiety and cope with past traumas. During a mission to counter a cyber attack on European governmental forces, he earned Marco's respect due to his exceptional computer skills in hacking and security programming. As a result, he was invited to join the prestigious Peregrine Falcons Squad, where he rose to the rank of Sergeant.

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