nicky santoro. 30, intimidation specialist. mob affiliated. intro.
christian lee. 35, local news anchor. neutral. intro.
DEAR READER
Claire Keane
Cosmic Funnies

Love Begins

pixel skylines

★
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
todays bird
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
trying on a metaphor
noise dept.

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

Discoholic 🪩
Keni
we're not kids anymore.

Kaledo Art
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

seen from United Kingdom
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seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
seen from Spain

seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Indonesia
seen from Netherlands
seen from Argentina

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany

seen from Bangladesh
seen from Iraq

seen from United States
@capaddes
nicky santoro. 30, intimidation specialist. mob affiliated. intro.
christian lee. 35, local news anchor. neutral. intro.

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he stood perfectly still at nicky's reaction in that distinct way of a prey animal that had been stumped out of all its other instincts. some confusion to the sinking of his brow, a puzzled twitch to the corner of his mouth. "i.. i am telling you with a straight face," he said, but the way yujin said it wasn't particularly convincing. like he had now lost the plot himself, and no longer believed his own words. his gaze turned to luna, like he needed to check if his own toddler was in fact standing in front of him. "nicky, that's illegal," yujin said. "you can't sell kids, that's literally illegal." as though most of what the two men were involved with wasn't illegal, too.
"You literally--" A hand cups the side of his mouth as he stage whispers, "--kill people." Side-eyes the kid, though it's spoken lightheartedly. It's an important part of their business. Without it, they'd fall apart. He thinks it's in the same category as accounting: necessary, unfortunate, and vaguely disturbing. "That's literally the most illegal thing you can do. That, and math." He shrugs. "So fine, since you’re not ‘selling babies’," he throws up a pair of air quotes, “why don't I not ‘help you’ to find a not ‘buyer’, and get me in on some of that 'not existing pie’?”
Fucking hell. What was it? Asshole Tuesday or something? Jia sighed. Her free hand moved up and the brunette pinched the bridge of her nose, trying her best not to make a scene like the one that had happened not too long ago with Seojun and the whole dumbassery-fest. She still felt like shit about letting her complicated emotions get the best of her, so Christian Lee was not going to keep ruining her evening. ❝ What? Do you expect me to put it on your finger like we’re getting married or something? ❞ She asked, wiggling the ringlet in his direction. ❝ You gotta me buy at least dinner first, sugar. ❞ If she was being honest, Jia felt like tossing the small piece of jewelry at his face and she hoped it would hit right in the eye. Or maybe on his teeth. A broken tooth would’ve been nice. For now, the brunette would settle for him stepping on a Lego or stubbing his toe somewhere. Again, she sighed and moved closer. ❝ Here. ❞ One hand reached into his pants’ pocket and she pulled it open, thus dropping the ring there. As she backed away, Jia patted on his pocket twice. ❝ Have your tacky ring back. ❞
A hard roll of his eyes, shaking his head as if the conversation was beneath him. Between the ring, the endless indignities of the day, his ruined suede shoes, he finds his patience hanging by a thread. "Yes, that's clearly what I was suggesting." The sarcasm barely leaves his mouth before she steps forward. "What--" Jerking backwards, her hand disappears into his pocket. His reaction is immediate, more startled than graceful. "Stop it-- Can you just--" He bats at her hand, scandalised. "Mind! Your! Hands!" After her paws are away from his general vicinity, a faint flush creeps across his cheeks despite himself. "What is it with you people?" He demands. "Do you have no sense of personal space whatsoever? You do not just touch people as you wish." Ring recovered, dignity decidedly less so, Christian takes a dramatic step away from her, then another, choosing a path around her rather than past her. It is only then that his gaze catches on the scar. The mark looks familiar, uncomfortably familiar. His eyes linger a second too long before darting away, blinking rapidly, jaw tightening as though willing the reaction from his face. But the damage is already done.
A sharp exhale through his nose. "Goodbye." And then, just like that, he leaves.
"try me, i'm a surprisingly quick learner. even if i do get distracted awfully easy, so try to make it interesting. if you can, of course."
"You would benefit from not being spoon fed all of your information. Try thinking for yourself, you’d be amazed at what you can achieve."
"You didn't answer my question." He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded toward the box on top of a filing cabinet. "It isn't a real pet. You're the one that lost it. You have to live with it. Not me."
"Y'know what, you didn't ask very fuckin' nicely, Marcus, did ya?" Nicky asks, jumping over the couch and towards the filing cabinet. He starts emptying the box, throwing one item over his shoulder at a time. "Last place it was seen was under your roof, who's to say it wasn't you."

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Arisa glanced upward toward the darkening sky, quietly noting the heavy clouds gathering overhead. Rain felt inevitable at this point. Umbrella already resting in her hand, she was admittedly a little early in her preparation considering it had not started pouring yet, but Arisa preferred being prepared rather than caught off guard. Old habits, maybe . It was not until she heard a familiar voice nearby that her attention shifted completely. Not through a television screen. Not from passing news coverage.
Christian.
The moment she saw him, genuine warmth crossed her expression almost instantly before she could stop it. At nearly the same time, distant thunder rolled somewhere overhead, low and heavy against the sky. Raising a brow slightly, Arisa stepped closer without hesitation, lifting the umbrella enough to cover him as well despite the rain still holding off for now.
“If saying hello is enough to cause a scene,” she said softly, the hint of a smile pulling at her lips, “then I think I may be doing something wrong.”
Christian freezes at the sound of his name. There are some voices memory preserves with unreasonable clarity.
"Hi." The word arrives a touch later than it should. His expression remains composed, but there is a faint hesitation in his gaze, as though he's still recalibrating to the reality of her standing there. Some part of him had always known this encounter was inevitable. Rift Valley was not large enough to sustain avoidance indefinitely.
The umbrella hovers between them, creating a narrow pocket of shelter. It is not quite large enough to cover both comfortably. Rain gathers along the back of his coat regardless, and he makes no move to correct the problem. "I heard you work here now." A beat. "Patrick told me," he lies quickly, to hide the fact he'd been asking for updates. "You look well. I hope life has treated you accordingly."
A wave of relief coursed over her upon being recognized. A lot had happened between Christian and her, and a lot involved the half of a man that was her ex, so now it was time to make amends and build bridges she once had thought to be destroyed. Christian being in town kind of felt like a second chance, much like a lot that had been happening lately. ❝ Oh, come on. It’s not that bad! ❞ She deflected at first, but deflecting had never really been something Yasemin was good at. Not saying much, or not saying anything at all? Sure. But answering something while trying not to? Not at all. The answer lingered on the tip of her tongue. The first time she’d said those words out loud, she had cried in Marcus’ lap for what seemed to be an entire night, and that had happened almost two years ago… give or take. Now, standing across from Christian, and knowing how much damage her ex had caused between them, she almost felt like screaming at the top of her lungs. ❝ I… ❞ A short pause followed. Enough for her to breathe in and out, before Yasemin continued. ❝ I left him, Chris. I… finally left him. ❞ Another pause ensued. The smile lingered on her lips for an extra heartbeat. They trembled for a moment, announcing the possibility of incoming tears, and before they decided to blur her vision, Yasemin waved her hand, trying to swallow them back and change the subject. ❝ What are you doing here? Gods, it has been so long! How have you been? ❞
There’s barely a reaction at that, only the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth -- a reaction too subdued to what would normally be a far more passionate critique of Rift Valley. He recognises the tone immediately: the careful casualness, the way she attempts to talk around a wound. It brings him back years in an instant. He is reminded, suddenly, of Los Angeles. Of standing outside her apartment with his phone still in hand, staring at a string of unanswered messages. Of the moment the door finally opened, a lingering figure stood behind her. I finally left him. The familiar knot of concern tightens in his chest—and then, just as suddenly, unravels. Everything she says after that seems to fall into the background. Christian goes still. "You left him." The words are repeated carefully, allowing the truth of them to settle in his mind at its own pace. "Good." The single word carries far more feeling than he would normally allow. "I'm glad." His voice is quieter than usual. "Are you safe?"
the mayor opts for something simple and comfortable, leaving the suits at home for once. with his wife by his side, they present a strong and united front, keen to remind people they’re just like them.
christian has never been to a festival in his life. this is something he’ll accidentally stumble upon, or get dragged to thinking it’s a networking event. overdressed, underprepared, and entirely full of regret.
nicky’s blink-if-you-want-me tshirt gets quickly discarded for absolutely nothing and he’s showing more skin than anyone really needs to see. at least most of his face is covered.

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How dare you, Neil? You have devastated me! Am I still your boy? NO!
( @capaddes )
luz froze in her step, mouth momentarily stuck in an oval shape of surprise before it snapped closed again. "right, okay," she mumbled, "do you want me to turn around? i can just not look at you while asking for an interview. though.. that might look at little weirder than if i did look at you."
"The direction in which you're facing is not the issue." A beat. His brows rise slightly as the request finally registers. "You wish to interview me." The question is accompanied by the first genuine spark of interest he's shown all day. "Why? Have you cleared this with the network?"
ANGEL HAD ONLY BEEN making an attempt at being a good samaritan -- which they rarely ever made the conscious effort to do. the shoes looked expensive, far too much so to be ruined by tripping and falling over their laces. thus, they remove their headpones from their ears -- the sound of coffee shop chatter filling their ears and replacing the amyl and the sniffers that had been at top volume.
" what do y'think i'm tryin' to do, announce to the entire shop that your shoes untied? because i could -- i've been told i'm a drama queen. "
they're naturally sarcastic ( they've always been, it's part of their nature ) -- but their voice still feels smooth as honey. they follow up their statement with a thin-lipped smile.
" 'cause.... like.... your shoe... "
The response catches him off guard in a way he'd be reluctant to admit. For a moment, the irritation he'd been preparing has nowhere to go. "Oh." His gaze drops to his shoe. "Well... Fine. Thank you." The gratitude sounds slightly unfamiliar coming from him, as though it hasn't been exercised in a while. "These are nubuck," he says, gesturing vaguely toward the shoe. "From Saint Laurent's Fall collection. The material marks very easily." A long and deep exhale leaves him. "You may, in fact, be the only helpful person in this town. I should learn your name."
"Fine not a friend and definitely not friend shaped," Cassie says, hands going up in the air. He pushes his wheels slightly so that he backs up from the other man. He was simply trying to help the other. It's practically his job. A job that he did well. He tends to forget that some situations don't need his help. Mostly those were social ones that he was clueless about. "Well you're acting dramatic. How the fuck was I supposed to know?" Cassidy asks, eyes rolling heavily. "We're all a little tired, dude." He snorts at the fact that this guy thinks he doesn't get as much attention as himself. "I'm Cassidy. And sometimes being disabled gets me unwanted attention," he tells him gesturing towards himself and his wheelchair.
"Pardon?" Christian blinks once, brows drawing together in confusion. "And what exactly is being friend-shaped?" The phrase hangs in the air for a moment. Increasingly, he finds himself surrounded by people who speak in a language that technically resembles English while remaining entirely incomprehensible.
At the mention of unwanted attention, his expression shifts, not unsympathetically, but with the faint skepticism born from delusions of grandeur. "Perhaps," he concedes, "and I don't wish to diminish your experience. But I fail to see how that leads to the conclusion that you attract more attention than I do."
pamela didn't really notice whoever was sitting on the bench when she approached. she didn't really care for him either. she just wanted to throw away her empty coffee cup on the trash bin next to him. yet he spoke and drew her attention. "ya know, for someone who's trying to lay low, you're kinda full of yourself." her eyes rolled, though there was a hint of amusement in her tone. or maybe it was boredom. she nodded her head toward him anyway. "you're stepping on a puddle, by the way."
His gaze drops to the puddle. And then, quite abruptly, he takes a step back. Or rather, jumps back. He stares down at the darkened patch creeping across the suede with growing horror. "Well, that is just excellent." With an aggravated huff, he flings his hands into the air. "Thank you for informing me. Your urgency is exactly what today needs," he says drily. "These are one hundred per cent suede. Do you know how difficult it is to restore wet suede properly?" A sigh. "Of course you don't."

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nico blinked once, then looked over his shoulder like the man must've been talking to somebody else before pointing at himself. “me?” he asked, unable to hide the faint amusement in his tone. “babes, you're the one making a scene.” his brows lifted slightly as he glanced down toward it. “but...now i'm really curious about the kind of day you've had.” a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “because you look like you're about three inconveniences away from fighting a parking meter.”
Christian grimaces at once. "Please." His eyes narrow. "Do not call me babes." Christian couldn't even overlook the word itself. The grammar, especially, was impossible to defend. His gaze drifts over Nico briefly, lingering just long enough to suggest he has reached a number of unflattering conclusions. "I may be having a dreadful day, but not such a dreadful day to begin discussing my personal affairs with you." A beat. "Are you not from Florida?"
presley couldn’t help but smirk the moment their eyes met, already intrigued by the situation. “i may be able to keep the scene to a minimum.” she said with a soft laugh as she shrugged her shoulders. “but you’re going to tell me why.” “might as well make it worth my while.”
Why he feels compelled to share this with a complete stranger is unclear. Perhaps it's because she looks as though she might understand. "I have run out of Crème de la Mer." He closes his eyes once. "And the only moisturiser available locally feels suspiciously similar to wall paste." His expression darkens. "It is appalling. I feel hideous."