—an offer you can't refuse

michael zacchia, 50, former capo for the lucchese family. boxer & owner of mama said knock you out.

[vinny-silva]

closed starter for: @michaelxzacchia

where & when: on the ferry, an hour or two before midnight

as much as Vinny had been excited about being somewhere other than the island for new years, after the day he had leading up to it, he nearly called Mike to tell him he’d changed his mind and wanted to stay in instead; but despite how much he wanted to avoid everything he still wanted to spend his new years with the other man. though when they met up to board the ferry, Vinny couldn’t help but get a vibe off of Mike that didn’t sit well with him. 

though it had been only an hour or so since they’d gotten on the ferry, Vinny felt as if it had been an eternity with the way Mike was being with him–short, disinterested, almost as if he didn’t want to be there at all. though the younger of the pair tried to tell himself he was overthinking it, it didn’t take long for that self reassurance to deflate again when he tried to have any kind of real conversation with him; leaving the young musician frustrated enough to wander off for a few minutes in search of alcohol. he had only meant to be gone for a moment, but next thing he knew he was drowning his anxiety in champagne and taking an extra half of a xanax to try and calm himself down–only to end up far more intoxicated than normal from the medication in his system. 

by the time he got back to Mike he still had a glass of champagne in hand despite how little he needed it, and before he could stop his mouth, his numbed nerves had him bluntly addressing the weird tension between them.

“have I done or said something wrong?” it was a genuine question, Vince’s voice holding a hint of concern. 

[michaelxzacchia]

@vinny-silva

RIGHT, so New Year’s was a fuckin’ drag, and all because he was forced to go run an errand for Cian fucking Veri. Well, okay, he hadn’t had to run the errand, not really, but it was late and it was dark and sue him for being an upstanding guy but he wasn’t gonna make Jenn do it. 

Which meant that his own plans would potentially have to be pushed back but, well, that was okay. He would still see the kid and, hopefully, they’d have the kind of quiet night in that Vinny teased the older man about wanting to have more and more as he got older and older. Jackass. 

He couldn’t hold it against him though, though he had things to do just that, like the fact that Vinny had a boyfriend and had never said a damn word, even after everything they had done. It had been written all over the kid’s face the night of the concert, where Mike had been invited, would have gone along anyway because he liked the little jackass, even if he didn’t always admit it. Hell, he was proud of him for his music and knew most of it, though he would rather pull his own teeth out than admit it. 

Still, the growing irritation that had been simmering beneath his skin was starting to gnaw at him, particularly when he had to keep an eye out for the kid who was, apparently, on the ferry same as him so they were both stuck here for the duration of the time it was fucked up and that his phone was apparently fucked up, too, ‘cause his messages were as spotty as his calls were being squirrely.

Turning at the sound of Vinny’s voice, Mike let out a bark of laughter, harsher than he intended for it to be. “Nah, ‘cept maybe lie about havin’ a boyfriend. Yah know, it’d have been real nice tah know, seein’ as what we’ve done meant you were datin’ his ass at the same time.” He drew in a breath, then, and let it out, shoulders hunching up towards his ears as he leaned against the ferry rail. Didn’t wanna see the look on the kid’s face when he finally registered what Mike had said, if he even had. One look and he knew he was fucked up but Mike didn’t need to open his mouth about it right now. He’d already caused enough damage. 

Happy fucking New Year.

[fiona-sawyer]

Status: Open @catalinastarter​

Back in Long Beach, and… quite frankly, back in her childhood home in Catalina, Fiona had a particular habit of walking out of the house whenever she needed, permission be damned. Sometimes it happened during the day, just to get out of a family outing that she wasn’t looking forward to much, and sometimes, it just so happened to occur at night. The latter, Fiona learned, tended to freak her family out. Especially Reese. He could never get why Fiona did what she did.

Over time, she had learned that it was a way to subdue herself. At least, it had been. Now, it was a way for her to dislodge this brick in her head that she had named boredom. So, she left her apartment with little else aside from her apartment key and spare cash, thinking that if she were to take a midnight walk, she might as well see what’s open.

If any other girl heard footfalls behind her at nighttime, they would get goosebumps. Not Fiona, though. She was just… curious. Coming to an abrupt stop, Fiona waited and listened, a little amused when footfalls suddenly stopped. But, she did not turn around. Not yet.

“Hel-LOW,” she called out in a sing-song fashion, not waiting long for a response. “Is anyone there?”

[michaelxzacchia]

@fiona-sawyer​

See, Mike wasn’t usually out this late. In fact most of the time he was curled up on his couch with a book or planning out the schedule for the gym for the next few days, give or take on the time of the week when he did it, but Cian (the prick he was) needed someone to do a run for him. 

Which meant that Mike wasn’t gonna let Jenn do it because it was waaaaaaaay too fuckin’ late for her to be out alone. 

Just like it was too late for this broad to be running around. She was a tiny little thing, too, Mike saw when he stopped, motorcycle helmet dangling from a fingertip. She had spunk though, he’d give her that. Mike was impressed. Most people like him still resided in the lovely little state of New York, where he longed to be. 

“Yeah, Santy Claus with a sack o’ toys,” he quipped, voice dry. “What th’ fuck are yah doin’ out here so late?” 

[michaelxzacchia]

box step; milly

@alycia-acosta​

“Pick yer hands up, Chica! Ain’t nothin’ gonna protect that pretty face if yah have arms that look like a limp noodle!” 

Ahhhhh, training day. The most constant thing in Mike’s life and Alycia was a repeat customer, though he had the foggiest idea why. They’d been having these sessions for about a month or so now after she had walked into Mama Said and nearly punched a hole through one of his body bags, she was wound so tight. See, she had what his therapist probably would have called ‘a tendency to anger and rash decisions’ but he would sooner swallow tacks than actually say that bastard had been right about anything. 

So, instead, he helped her deflect her anger by occasionally beating the crap out of her with a few padded boxing gloves in a ring at the back of the gym. 

“That’s it, kid,” he crowed, impressed when her right hook swiped just past his left ear, “one more set, huh? How’s that guy o’ yers? Still got that perky ass yah can’t shut th’ fuck up about?”

[michaelxzacchia]

callumw​:

     Callum made little to no attempt to conceal his amusement, the ghost of a chuckle coloring his response. “Aren’t rabbits herbivores?” With a lopsided grin he’d offered a one handed gesture towards the chicken atop his poor meal choice for the atmosphere. Not that right now seemed like the best moment to be testing his reluctant company’s tolerance for the blonde’s inane humor. “On the rocks?” He asked, skating over his own comment to clarify. “Think I will, I doubt one glass would do too much damage.” Initially, that hadn’t been his plan, but he was there — might as well. It’d at least make his presence bar side a bit more tolerable for the bartender, give him a more solid reason to linger beyond munching on his greens. Another excuse on the pile. 

@callumw​

A brow ticked upward at the laugh that his surly attitude had pulled from the man next to him, almost surprised. Usually, that wasn’t how people entertained his personality. It was a bit refreshing, if Mike was being honest. “Sure are,” he muttered, knuckles tapping against the bar top as he shifted to glance, side-eyed, at the younger man. The corner of his mouth lifted when he was asked if he wanted the whiskey on the rocks, accompanying it with a brisk nod after a second of deliberation. “Yer at a bar. It’ll prob’ly do yah more harm if yah didn’t.”

[cianxveri]

Who: @michaelxzacchia​ Where: Bad Alibi When: Sunday, 11am

It wasn’t normal practice for Cian to be hanging around the bar so early in the morning, but it was the weekend after Thanksgiving. Which, according to American traditions as he understood them, meant that he was supposed to have the bar decorated for the holiday season coming up soon. The only issue he was running into was the fact that almost all decorations were specific to one holiday or another, and as far as he could tell, the locals and transplants on the island spanned a range of celebrated winter holidays.

“Wreaths are holiday neutral, right?” He called out to Jenn. She only hummed an answer that gave him no answer at all. “Maybe I’ll start with the holiday menu instead. What kind of cocktails can you make that taste like holidays? Something with peppermint?”

“Sure, I’ve got a peppermint schnapps I don’t get to use nearly enough,” Jenn answered, more chipper than she’d been when asked about decorations. “We can call it Home for the Holidays.”

The implication of the name wasn’t as cheery to Cian as she made it sound, but he didn’t comment on it. “Whatever the strongest holiday themed drink you can make, I’m calling it Aunt Karen.” She threw a rag at him, earning an amused smirk from Cian, just as the bell above the door jingled. “We open at—Oh, it’s you,” his voice dropped from pleasant to tried and annoyed the second his eyes landed on the man that had let himself in. “You can stay if you taste test my holiday themed cocktails.”

[michaelxzacchia]

@cianxveri

Look, Mike wasn’t usually roaming around the Catalina streets this early. Usually, he was neck deep in trainers, gym-goers, and paperwork by now, but he gave himself the day off, figuring he could do with a bit of ‘holiday cheer.’ That being said, his plan had never been to stumble in through the doors of the Bad Alibi, empty save for Jenn and her lovely boss, Cian. 

“Yeah, jackass, ‘s me. Don’t cream yer pants,” Mike tosses back with a smirk, sauntering in like he owned the place. He waved his phone in his hand, sliding into the stool across from Cian and giving Jenn a bright smile. “If yah wanted tah get me drunk, all yah had to do was ask, sweetheart.” The bartender groaned and shook her head, already appearing to regret sending him the message that had brought him through the Alibi’s front doors so goddamned early.

“I like th’ name, by the way. Aunt Karen. Very classy, but yer gonna need more than that. Which ‘s why ‘m here. Jenn said yer bein’ a Scrooge about th’ holiday menu.”

[niaxbailey]

Where: Bad Alibi.

Who: Open. ( @catalinastarter )

      Being stone cold sober at Bad Alibi in the wee hours was a bit, well, admittedly pathetic. His sleep schedule had been laughable for years compared to someone who worked a regular nine to five. The blonde couldn’t even claim he was enticed by the idea of some greasy bar food, as he had been given at least one skeptical side-eye when he ordered himself a grilled chicken salad. He was feeling a bit bad, as a customer, sitting bar side ordering but a salad and water while so few still lingered in the establishment; so he would eventually lean across the bar to the nearest soul. Weight shifted nonchalantly onto an elbow. “Next round on me?” He offered, as a way to buy his time more so than just purely a kind gesture. 

[michaelxzacchia]

Mike would have been interested any other night. The kid seemed nice, polite even, but there was something about the holidays--and Cian’s generaly Scrooge-y attitude--that didn’t make the offer all that welcoming. He wasn’t going to be a dick about it, really. He was just going to sit there in silence, maybe count to 1000 and then fuck off. His favorite past time had gone unfounded; for whatever reason, Cian was not prowling the bar like he usually did this time of night. When the guy didn’t go away but, instead, ordered a fucking salad, Mike resigned himself to his fate and gave the guy a gruff nod. “Sure, man, I’ll take a whiskey. Yah sure ‘s gonna go with yer rabbit food or are yah not drinkin’?”

[vinny-silva]

michaelxzacchia​:

That wasn’t the same bratty ass anger Mike knew, was the first thought that flitted through his head. The second was: he looks good but he his tie is fucked up. His hands were wet, too, still a bit damp where they clutched at his waist, hair just the same where his forehead was pressed into the middle of his back. 

Rather than address the snappish tone, or the way Vinny had seemingly bounded down here with a storm cloud hanging over his head (when it had been just the opposite earlier in the day), Mike nodded and, turning in his own seat, legs still braced on the ground to steady them both, checked the fit of the helmet the other man was wearing. 

Just ‘cause he liked to drive fast on his own didn’t mean he’d be doing the same with Vinny on the back of his bike, and especially not if the helmet fit like shit. He’d seen guess wiped out from less. 

“Gimme your phone,” he said, pitching his voice just over the sound of the engine rumbling beneath them both. “Can’t keep it in your pants, Vin, it’ll fly out.” His voice just so, hoping the other man caught onto the tease and reacted to it, Mike waited until he got a response, anything, before turning back around. There was something about seeing the kid looking like this that pitched uncomfortably somewhere in his chest and his gut and Mike didn’t like it. 

In fact, he wanted it gone. 

“We can leave after. Still got a sec, though.” As if to prove his point, Mike held out a hand and wiggled the fingers, entirely serious about the offer. His tone was coaxing, now, and serious, and if Vinny could have seen his face, he would have noticed the crease between his eyes that spoke of his displeasure (a thing which was nearly nonexistent in his voice). “I can keep it in my jacket ‘til we get where we’re goin’.” A place which he had, out of habit, studied every possible route to and would note every entrance and exit to the moment he stepped foot inside the building. 

♠️

Vinny’s shoulders were practically at his ears with how tensed up he was, hoping to just hold onto the other man while they rode but instead of the bike moving, Mike was turning to him. Vinny didn’t want to pay attention, he didn’t want to be teased, he just wanted to get where they were going and drink until he wasn’t entirely overcome with this anxiety he usually suppressed with xanax; the vibrating of his phone beginning to drive him closer and closer to the edge of a breakdown that had already been pushing on his last nerve.

it caught Vinny off guard when Mike asked him for his phone, almost offended as if he was being scolded and having something taken from him for taking too long to get ready until the tone of his voice made it clear he wasn’t trying to poke the bear and told him he would carry it for him so he didn’t lose it from his pocket on the ride. flustered still he simply nodded and handed it over, the lump in his throat growing solid for some reason as he handed over the still ringing device, his father’s name on the screen as he silenced it before pushing it into Mike’s hand.

“Keep it for the rest of the night for all I care at this point, I’m ready to pitch the thing in the fucking ocean,” his tone was stressed and sad all at once, practically sounding bratty but in a way that spoke volumes about how truly overwhelmed he was feeling as a whole lately. he took a few deep breaths then, shifting he so was comfortable before he wrapped his arms around Mike to indicate he was ready to leave then whenever Mike was.

[michaelxzacchia]

It was almost unnerving when he didn't get any lip back from the younger man. When, instead, he was wordlessly handed a phone he barely glanced at the screen of before turning off. Now, it wouldn't be anyone's problem. He gave the kid a small smile, squeezed the hand that was wrapped around his waist once, briefly, before stowing the phone away like he said he would.

"I can do that too, if you want. Later though. Gotta get closer to the ocean first."

Kicking off from the curb, Mike turned them toward the street with a revving of the bike's engine. Soon, they were speeding yo their destination.

Mike would ask him what was up when they parked, give Vinny some time to cool off, calm down, and for Mike to figure out how he was going to ask how, exactly, Vincent was related to the head of the Silva crime family.

[tayloxswift]

open starter -  lafayette coffee & cookie co. @catalinastarter​

After spending the morning with Imogen at a park, running around the place chasing after the little girl had left Taylor completely exhausted. They’d returned home just in time for lunch, but the nanny had excused herself, both to let Jenny and Dinah have some mother-daughter time but also to have a little bit of time just for herself. Catalina was a small island, but she still had to get into her car to drive all the way down to Laffayette square to find her favorite spot, the Coffee and Cookie co, where she planned to have a quick cup of coffee and a pastry. But apparently, everyone had had the same idea. Stepping into the cafe, the whole place was crammed, and the only place she could see was in a round table that was occupied by one person. Slowly walking towards them, Taylor tapped them on the shoulder softly “Excuse me, would you mind if I sat down? The whole place is packed and- I’ll get you the next cup of whatever you’re drinking, on me? Does that sound like a fair deal?” She asked with a convincing smile, hoping it’d work.

[michaelxzacchia]

@taylorparkerx​

On the very rare occasion that he could get away from the gym on his lunch break, Mike took it like he was a drowning man that needed a fuckin’ life raft. It was a quick jaunt so he left his bike behind, gave himself a bit of time to stretch his legs and ease off the muscle pains he already knew would plague him because he was an old mother fucker and kicking the shit out of people for a living wasn’t getting any easier. Even if it was rewarding as all hell. 

The coffee cup that he curled stiff fingers around--stiffened more so by the hours spent in tape and gloves than the soreness of throwing punches because that, at least that, was something his body was used to--was a small comfort, as was the corner of the café that he’d managed to snag before the lunchtime vultures descended. 

Minding his own business as he dug into a small sandwich one handed and kept his eye on the front door, Mike would have felt like he was the last person this plucky little schoolgirl-looking young woman would come up to to ask for a seat. It took him a moment to register that she was, in fact, speaking to him, so Mike swallowed his mouthful of salami, bruschetta, provolone and pastrami and stood from his seat, gesturing to it instead. 

See. His momma did raise him right. 

“Take mine. ‘S not so bad standin’.” There was a seat right next to her but, really, Mike wasn’t intent on sitting that close to someone else with his back to the door. It was why he’d taken the chair he had, after all. “But sure, next cup’s on you.”

[charlie-ansel]

michaelxzacchia​:

When the deaf kid had first come through Mama Said’s doors, Mike wasn’t expecting to have another deaf kid teaching him ASL just tah help train the other one, but his motto had always been to teach what he could, and he was an asshole (self-proclaimed an’ all) but he would never turn down anyone who walked into his gym askin’ tah be trained. 

Which is why he came to Charlie. 

See, he’d met the kid a while back, after he’d run into the kid in a coffee shop. Like, literally ran into him. Rightfully so, Charlie had been pretty annoyed, but instead of being yelled at, or only yelled at, Mike had to blink and watch himself be stripped down to his metaphorical bare ass and upbraided in sign language. Something he didn’t know and had a very hard time following. But, he figured it could be useful and, after swallowing his pride and apologizing, had asked if he could teach him, since he had a new client who was deaf. Or, at the very least, teach him how to communicate enough where the kid could hit someone proper at the end of their sessions.

 So, here they sat, Mike lounging back in his chair, watching Charlie’s face and his hands intently, nodding along as the kid asked him to indicate what he’d be asking a new student. 

“Right, uh, okay. So–” he leaned forward so Charlie could see his face better, hands gesturing every so often as he spoke where they hung between his legs. “–first I’d probably see what their skill set is, tah begin with. If they’re brand new or have some understandin’ of th’ whole thing. After that, we’d get into a basic workout: cardio, footwork, hand work.” 

@michaelxzacchia​

Charlie did not imagine teaching Michael ASL when they first met. Primarily because he did two of the things that hearing people did that annoyed him the most when they first met. First, he hadn’t been watching where he was going, so he ran directly into Charlie, who was standing still waiting for his coffee—honestly, how blind were hearing people?— and second, he had proceeded to look around for napkins or whatever while he was talking, probably apologizing, without looking at Charlie, so hell if Charlie knew what he was saying. Not that Charlie would’ve understood the apology anyway, he realized, when the man finally looked at him. He had some kind of accent that made his lips move weird as they formed words. On top of that, Charlie had already been in a pretty bad mood after dealing with some shitty homeowners at a photo shoot that morning, and maybe had taken a little too much anger out on Michael. Which was what made the man’s request to learn ASL all the more surprising.

Granted it had taken several tries and a decent amount of charades to get the point across, and Charlie would’ve promptly disregarded the request if he hadn’t said that he had a deaf student. Honestly, Charlie felt bad for whoever they were, having to learn from not only a hearing person, but one that embodied some of the worst traits of one. At least he hadn’t yelled at Charlie when he realized he was deaf, as if that would suddenly make him hear. That was the only thing h could’ve don that would’ve been worse.

Charlie nodded, lips pressed together in concentration as he tried to figure out what exactly to teach the man. His answer didn’t really help much. “Ok, I’ll try to teach you a few sentences and phrases that might help. Sentence structure in ASL is different than in spoken English, but as long as you can sign the words, they’ll understand what you’re saying. You don’t need to worry about structure and everything. If you can learn the signs, and sign it the way you would speak it, that will get the point across. So, have you boxed before?” He signed the words slowly. He repeated the signs a couple more times before he continued. “What specifically do you tell your students when it comes to the basic workout? Run a mile? I don’t really know what footwork and handwork mean. I’m not very well versed in,” he paused, gesturing vaguely around them, back towards the gym. “All of this. I can teach you specific words, phrases, sentences. But I don’t have any idea where to start with what those are. Punch? Kick?” He signed both of those more slowly than when he was just communicating normally. He unfolded a piece of paper he’d brought with him and set it on the desk, facing Michael. On it were illustrations of the alphabet in ASL. “When in doubt, you can always spell anything you need to. It takes longer than if you know the sign, but it can work in a pinch.”

[michaelxzacchia]

@charlie-ansel

Right. Well, this might be more difficult than he’d thought. 

Not that Mike was going to pussy out now, far from it, but watching how the kid spoke and hearing (and watching) the questions he was being asked, the New Yorker realized he probably should have written down some of the basics they’d needed before he had started this whole thing. Admittedly, he hadn’t even thought Charlie would be up to teaching him anything, especially with how he’d made an ass out of himself without meaning to. Mike hadn’t even realized the kid was deaf after he’d run into him until Charlie had started unleashing a bunch of righteous anger out onto him. 

Granted, it had been warranted, but it was still...shocking. 

A lot of people didn’t talk to Mike the way Charlie had. It made him respect the kid, if anything else. But, now, he needed to get this done for the other student he had, the one who needed to know his trainer was in his corner, fuck what anyone else said he could or couldn’t do, and this was the first step toward that. 

Mike nodded his head at the signs, fingers twitching through them as he tried (and probably failed) to copy them a time or two before thinking about the questions he’d been asked. “Ah--” Mike scratched at the side of his face, mulling over his words before he turned back to Charlie to speak. “Work out’s usually a set o’ jumping jacks, sometimes shadow boxing. Yah know--” He threw a few quick punched into the air, miming what he was talking about before throwing a lopsided smile at the other. “Jus’ boxing would prob’ly work, though. Maybe asking if they know how to wrap their hands? ‘S important, ‘cause if they don’t I gotta show ‘em how.”

[michaelxzacchia]

vinny-silva​:

♠️

“No, you aren’t listening to my words,” Vinny responded in his own low tone to get his point across–all the while letting Mike move and shift him in any way he needed to in order to show him what he was doing wrong and how to correct it properly. he let Mike’s hands move his hip, and nearly leaned into the older man’s embrace when his arm came across his chest, but as much as he wanted to forget about what had him so upset, he also wanted to tell someone–really tell someone what was going on in his head.

“it..should have..been..me,” he spat through gritted teeth as his body repeated the motion it was just guided into, throwing far better punches with the added bit of help and continuing to try and punch a hole clean through the bag with pure spite. with each word that came scraping past his clenched teeth, they grew louder and less collected as his composure began to crack and his emotions began to bleed through.

“it was my car they rigged, my car–not hers. they knew it was mine and they had meant it to be for me,” his voice raised with each swing of his arms, his emotions boiling over like an unwatched pot. “they put that bomb under my car… she always took my car without asking first… she–” finally he stopped, his composure finally crumbling as his eyes overflowed with tears that refused to leave, rolling down his face as he tried to catch his breath in between his choked up words; lifting his head to look at Mike with an expression he had never worn in front of anyone since losing Bianca.

“she was my sister, Mike.. I was supposed to protect mine, too. and I didn’t. she took my keys without asking and by the time I got to her—” his voice was quiet as the tears streamed down his face, crying quietly despite the urge to scream that sat in his chest. he simply looked at Mike with his broken expression, sniffling quietly before he chuckled dryly and shrugged while he wiped his face with his forearm as best he could with the gloves still on. “as far as my parents are concerned, it’s my fault. it really should have been me, Mike.”

@vinny-silva​

'No, you aren't listening to my words.' 

Mike smiled slightly, chagrined at being caught out because no, he hadn't been, not entirely anyway. He'd been listening to everything else, too. The way the words sounded, the shape Vinny's face made when he was trying not to cry, brows screwing closer together as his breathing hitched. He swayed back into Mike's body before shaking himself loose from the compulsion, seemed to think better of it as he grit his teeth and tried to punch a hole clean through the hanging bag. The vitriol that came out of his mouth, the pain and spite and sadness, tear-clogged and emotional, was something that Mike never could handle, delicately or otherwise. Somehow, he'd always seemed to make it worse with not knowing what to do. He'd usually been sent out of the room when his sisters cried, unable to help even when that's all they'd wanted him to do. 

But he had to fucking try here, huh? At least a little. 

While Vinny punched and punched and punched, Mike removed his gloves and tossed them to the side, eventually catching the other man by the arms and tugging him forward. Hunched up like he was, holding himself together with chewing gum and anger, Mike was able to set his chin on the ridge of Vinny's shoulder.

From the things he had gathered in the time he'd known him, the inferences he'd made, Mike was barely phased by the cause of death. It had sounded like something he'd caused many times for the Lucchese's rivals. "Or they knew she took yer car," he mumbled, hand finding it's way from Vinny's shoulder to the back of his head, running carefully through the curls there. 

"It ain't...your fault, Vince. An' 'm gonna keep sayin' it. Yah said I ain't listenin' tah yer words an' yer right. I wasn't. At least, not jus' that. 'M listenin' tah everything. Here," he tapped the side of Vinny's face. 

"An' here." The place where his pulse beat, jumping wildly against his skin. 

"An' here." His ribs, where his heart bled out onto his chest. 

"Yer never gonna feel like it ain't yer fault, kid. Never. But it'll get better. Not easier, but...less painful, yah know?" He paused to let Vinny wipe at his face, continued when he was done. "An' I say fuck yer old man fer puttin' it all on you," he said, careful to hedge around what exactly he thought of the old bastard Vinny had only mentioned in passing.   

Mike sighed heavily and ran the hand that wasn't in Vinny's hair down his arm, searching for the velcro on the gloves, releasing first one than the other. He gave a considering look to the younger man before grinning brightly and hefting him up into his arms. "How 'bout a shower huh, call it a night? I'll show yah how tah adjust everythin' else in th' mornin'."

[michaelxzacchia]

vinny-silva​:

♠️

The call of his name through the door of his place made him jump a little, already overwhelmed with the phone call he was in the middle of when he was trying to get ready to do exactly what Mike was rushing him over–over which only brought forth a slew of cursing in his native tongue; both at the situation and the pushing from his father on the other end of the call. which of course only fueled the heated argument between himself and his father, all the while having Mike tell him he would leave him behind if he didn’t hurry his ass up. the statement alone brought on a small wave of panic, feeling bombarded and pressured from all angles to the point of gripping the sides of the sink he stood in front of in his bathroom.

before he could think he simply hung up on his father in the middle of being verbally degraded and torn down and proceeded to quickly wet both his hands with cold water, running them over his face and through his hair before jamming his phone, wallet and keys into the inside pocket of his suit jacket on his way out the door. when he made he way up to Mike, he shot him a look when he shoved the helmet into him before putting it on and simply nodding, taking his seat behind the older man on the bike and latching himself on tightly; doing his best to ignore the vibrating from his phone as it rang in his pocket.

“Can we just go now, please?” Vinny shouted back over the noise with almost a snap in his tone, his anxiety coming out disguised as anger rather than what it truly was–the young musician feeling entirely too overwhelmed and trying to suppress it; and inevitably failing.

@vinny-silva​

That wasn’t the same bratty ass anger Mike knew, was the first thought that flitted through his head. The second was: he looks good but he his tie is fucked up. His hands were wet, too, still a bit damp where they clutched at his waist, hair just the same where his forehead was pressed into the middle of his back. 

Rather than address the snappish tone, or the way Vinny had seemingly bounded down here with a storm cloud hanging over his head (when it had been just the opposite earlier in the day), Mike nodded and, turning in his own seat, legs still braced on the ground to steady them both, checked the fit of the helmet the other man was wearing. 

Just ‘cause he liked to drive fast on his own didn’t mean he’d be doing the same with Vinny on the back of his bike, and especially not if the helmet fit like shit. He’d seen guess wiped out from less. 

“Gimme your phone,” he said, pitching his voice just over the sound of the engine rumbling beneath them both. “Can’t keep it in your pants, Vin, it’ll fly out.” His voice just so, hoping the other man caught onto the tease and reacted to it, Mike waited until he got a response, anything, before turning back around. There was something about seeing the kid looking like this that pitched uncomfortably somewhere in his chest and his gut and Mike didn’t like it. 

In fact, he wanted it gone. 

“We can leave after. Still got a sec, though.” As if to prove his point, Mike held out a hand and wiggled the fingers, entirely serious about the offer. His tone was coaxing, now, and serious, and if Vinny could have seen his face, he would have noticed the crease between his eyes that spoke of his displeasure (a thing which was nearly nonexistent in his voice). “I can keep it in my jacket ‘til we get where we’re goin’.” A place which he had, out of habit, studied every possible route to and would note every entrance and exit to the moment he stepped foot inside the building. 

[carlyxweiss]

who: you! | open @catalinastarter​ where: all hallow’s eve party | some random hallway wing (or the bar!)  when: any time during the event 

It was interesting how busy she could get around the middle or end of October now that she had broadened her photography horizons, and now that Chandler was back in Los Angeles for the time being so she had all the time in the world to work.  It seemed like the end of summer and beginning of fall had been a blink, slipped away, and now here she was in bright green shoes with wings strapped to her back. 

She kind of loved Halloween and dressing up, even if she wasn’t doing it for one specific other.  Doing it for herself was enough.  And there had been enough Scotch so far, too.  She found herself effusing to open air, whether anyone was listening or not. 

“I guess I just think if you’re wearing wings, you feel like you can do anything or like magic is real.  Maybe it’s the wings, maybe it’s the glittery eyeshadow, I don’t know.  Also, when I say anything, I just mean lofty ambition and ‘the night is young’, not like I’m going to test these things out by jumping off the roof.  You know?” 

[michaelxzacchia]

This party was fuckin' nuts, truth be told, and Mike almost regretted not being able to leave the damn place. There were way too many people, way too much booze, and not enough exits to the outside. And he'd lost Vinny, to top it off, so it made it even worse.

When he was finally able to step out, it was sans suit jacket with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the collar on his dress shirt popped. Fuck being in character at this point. But it looked like someone else might be.

"Sure thing, Tinkerbell. Jus' please...don't. I really don't wanna have tah try tah scrape yer ass offa th' floor. Or drag ye back inside."

[michaelxzacchia]

sixteen candles || minny

CLOSED STARTER FOR; @vinny-silva​

They were going to be late and all because the kid was doing his fucking hair.

“VINCENT!” Mike hollered, banging his palm against the younger man’s apartment door. “Sbrigati, piccolo! Yer hair’s gonna get messed up on the ride over anyway. An’ if ye don’t get yer little ass out here ‘m gonna leave yah.” He wouldn’t, but he hoped the fact he sounded serious enough (and that he had done so before) would keep the kid’s ass in gear. 

Shaking his head as he glanced at his watch again, Mike tapped his foot against the door jamb before heaving a sigh and calling through the door. “Bike’s startin’ up in five minutes whether yer ridin’ bitch or not, Vin.” Then, he turned and took the stairs down to the street, true to his word and straddling his 2018 Ducati XDiavel--the one possession besides the pictures he’d snuck with him in his wallet that had made the trip from New York--five minutes later with the engine purring underneath him. 

The familiar sight of Vinny, all dressed up, made him grin, though you couldn’t see it behind the helmet. “’bout fuckin’ time,” he yelled, shoving his spare helmet into Vinny’s chest. “Put it on an’ then get on. Ye got yer wallet, all o' that shit?”

[dontwantyouback]

Kevin Richardson on the set of “We’ve Got It Goin’ On”

[thetattedstoner]

Everybody || Backstreet Boys

[raychleadele]

Just occurred to me that some of you may have never seen this music video. They had absolutely no reason to make it the way it is but damn they went hard.

[haveharttt]

michaelxzacchia​:

@haveharttt​

Both of Mike’s eyebrows hiked into his hairline at that information. This kid grew up in Jersey? Call him biased, but he thought they came from stronger stock than this. Respectfully speaking, of course. He didn’t know this guy from fuckin’ Adam, so he wasn’t gonna judge. 

Well. Not entirely. 

Laughing a bit at the question, Mike sighed through his nose and ran a hand through his hair. “Nah. My old man taught me. Said I had anger issues, figured beatin’ the shit outta a bag would help. It did, for the most part, an’ I was good, so it worked out.” 

Shit, this guy was no joke, huh? A sentient spaghetti noodle indeed. “Yer alright, Tyson. ‘S nothin’. No harm done. But, uh, I assume you got questions? Let’s hear ‘em. Figure it’d be easier than jus’ talkin’.”

Tyson couldn’t help but laugh at the others expression. “Yeah yeah, I know what you’re thinking, especially since I grew up a town or two over from the great Chuck Wepner. While I might not have the physical strength of a Jerseyian I definitely have the mouth and driving skills. Fighting was just never something I got into. I was too busy fighting battles with myself to channel that into others. Although, probably wouldn’t have been a bad idea.” He nodded as the other continued. It was interesting the different routes one could take for coping. The makes father encouraged constructive violence where as his parents pushed for more conventionally creative outlets like writing or drawing.

“See, you’d assume that but I don’t even know where to begin with all this. Like I said, I know very little about boxing. Maybe we can just start off with your personal history with the sport. Maybe some more detail with how you got started, your career highlights, then how you got to this spot. I think I’ll form more as we go.”

[michaelxzacchia]

Mike shot the kid a good-natured smile when he laughed, said he understood the look he received when Mike had showed skepticism about his state of birth. "Hey, the mouth an' th' drivin' skills of th' East coast are a fuckin' art. Yer doin' alright."

The explanation was a sound one and Mike respected that, he really did. Kid knew he wasn't up to snuff but he was still wanting to learn about it. Took guts. Knowing that Tyson didn't really know where to start was...honestly not surprising, but Mike nodded anyway, a bit of a smirk touching at the corners of his mouth.

"Sure, sure. Well I could give yah the abbreviated version, I s'pose. It ain't very interestin', honestly. I started fightin' when I was, eh, twenty something? So 's been a long time. Started out at a little gym, yah know like that Rocky Balboa type shit. My old man got me a trainer after I busted a guy's nose an' broke his arm after he touched my little sister." Mike shrugged, nonchalant. He never had been sorry about it, even after the man had tried to press charges. No one hurt his family.

He continued on a second later, scratching at his face. "My other sister, th' older one, went tah all my matches, trainings, everything. She gave me my handle, fuckin' dick," he chuckled at the memory, smiling sadly at the memory of Chiara. He missed her so goddamn much. "They called me th' Godfather."

[rpmusings-galore]

         i had a place where I lay my head                           …. they burnt it to the ground and the sky turned   R E D