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taylor price
No title available
No title available
Claire Keane
Peter Solarz
trying on a metaphor
will byers stan first human second
No title available
blake kathryn
ojovivo
oozey mess
One Nice Bug Per Day
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
🪼
Kaledo Art
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
@theartofmadeline
wallacepolsom
No title available
seen from United States
seen from Iraq
seen from Germany
seen from Tunisia
seen from Iraq
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Canada
seen from Venezuela
@mycoffinorurs
Mun speaks;;
I have literally cried all afternoon because of my job. Came home to find a bubble bath and a chilled bottle of champagne and four dozen roses. And boyfriend had the dog walker come and take the beasts for a bit. How he planned this while performing surgery this afternoon, I have no idea. But this has to be what love really looks like.
If you want a roleplay, hit me up.
Yellowstone is giving me all of the inspiration.
Open to all; (M/F/NB)
((Possible connections: new nurse, new doctor, other coworkers.))
Inessa could hear them now. Don’t mind her, she’s the resident ice queen. Her husbands a lawyer, they don’t associate with normal folk. It was the usual warning that all new staff got when they were introduced to the ER. She had let the stories go on, because what could the young doctor say? I’m sorry I can’t come out for happy hour because my husband with surely beat me when I get home. I’m sorry, if I go to your baby shower I’ll get more bruises to hide from you. Of course that wasn’t polite dinner conversation.
The doctor came in, grabbed the charts, prepared for rounds. There was a newbie today, someone she had to show the ropes. She paused in the empty nurses station, tugging on the sleeves of her lab coat. Dr. Izmaylova was in bright blue letters above her breast. It very nearly matched her bright blue scrubs. A few regular nurses filtered in. Their words buzzed together like a hive. “Karen’s wedding shower is this Friday.” “We’ve got all the money, I’ll get her gift tonight.” “I thought we were grabbing drinks tonight?” “Hey, Izzy.”
The doctor’s head shot up. She offered a perfectly constructed smile to the group. “Good morning. Is the new crew member here yet?” She was all business. She had to be. When people either feared you or flat out didn’t like you, they were way less likely to ask about your plans. One of the nurses pointed to the on-call room in the back. Izzy took a deep breath, not exactly ready for new people. She’d only had a very little bit of sleep.
@babyvixcn
“I said get them out of my face!” He bellowed, slamming the door to the penthouse behind him. He left two shocked men standing in the hall, scrambling to recover face. His eyes darted to the guards who always remained in the house when his girl was home. “Get out.” The Don commanded.
Giuseppe had only been in charge of the family for the past six months. And the transition hadn’t exactly been smooth. And now his eastern syndicate had all but been shut down. At least temporarily. An inside source had tipped him off that the police were closing in. Apparently his pay offs had not been effective enough. A show of force would need to be made. The man loosened his tie, storming towards the wet bar. A heavy sigh escaped him.
Joe, as he was known, needed to regroup. He need his rock. Running a hand through his hair, he used the other to slip his piece out of its holster and place it on the counter. The one gun he hadn’t used to assert his dominance. He poured himself a glass of scotch, downing it in a gulp. He stayed with his back to the room, anything to keep from breaking the glass in his hand. Not being in total control was unacceptable.
Camille felt disgust as she stared up at the pale grey exterior of the house. Six years. Had it really been that long? Her mind traveled back to the last time she had even seen the majority of her family. Now her mother had to go off and elope. What a bitch. So now on top of her own brother, she apparently had step siblings.
Cam stepped over the threshold, glad to be the first to arrive. When she did frequent the home, that meant she got to pick her room first. The blonde immediately went to her favorite room, at the top of the house was a hidden master suite, tucked away with its own balcony. Perfection.
She slipped into a bikini, grateful for some quiet time before the rest of the family, old and new descended on the home. Back on the first floor, she grabbed some chilled champagne from the fridge, a family staple. The jacuzzi was a welcome sight, overlooking the tranquility of the lake, possibly the only solace she would get this weekend.
anonymously message me with a plot & i'll respond with whether i would be interested or not, then make a starter for it.
note: this is simply to try and help people break the ice of rp'ing or for those who want to rp something off someone’s wishlist, but are just a little too shy. this can remain completely anonymous! so if you receive a plot you like you’re essentially making an open starter based on that plot unless the other person comes forward :)
It's hard to be a person.
It even harder some days to be a woman. I had to convince a cashier today that my husband (who I've ditched) was waiting in the car for me. I thought I was past that. I thought he would take no for an answer.
He didn't. He raised his voice, at his place of business, and demanded to know why I didn't want to give him my number. There were many reasons.
1. He was waiting on me at a grocery store.
2. He was 40 lbs overweight.
3. He complimented my "short dress".
4. I wasn't interested.
None of those answers would have helped. They would have made him angry. And angry is not the side I want to be on in regards to a strange man.
So, I lied. I said I was married. I said he was waiting in the car. He was still ugly to me. "All of the good broads are married." I was in his line less than 3 minutes. I won't be going back to that store. I went from a pretty girl in a short dress to a "broad."
Mun speaks;;
Y'all, it's been crazy. I'm hoping to get to replies tomorrow. I'm smitten. Life is good.
Mr. Grey doesn't have anything on this life.
Mun speaks;;
Y'all. So I went on a date. First real one since divorce-ville appeared on my horizon. I met this chill dude and gave him my number. We talked for a few weeks. I'm crushing hard.
Last night he picks me up... in a mother fucking Ferrari. He had sent me a pic of three cars in a garage and asked what ride I wanted. No shit, I thought he was kidding. Nope. This dude came ready. Fam, I'm still floored.
mycoffinorurs:
No real time had been lost and most certainly no chemistry. Aimless years spent building an empire with no real men in her life. Godfrey reminded her of a god. He knew just how to handle her. Her voice was rising, moans growing in her throat. She sunk teeth into her plump bottom lip. Her pussy ached and dripped for him. Her thighs trembled.
“I want you to fill every hole.” She whispered. Her tongue darted across her lips as she spoke. “Take me, sir. I need it so badly.” She reached down to play with her swollen pussy. Her free hand went to her breast, a little show for him.
Now normally Godfrey might have smacked her hand away from sex. Declaring it as all his and she didn’t have permission to play with herself. But something about seeing the blonde after all the time reminded him of her sexual playfulness. It was intoxicating and he moved closer once he stripped naked, sliding between her thighs. His massive cock was throbbing and huge, ready for her after all the teasing of the night.
“That’s what I want to hear…” Godfrey lined his cock up with her swollen and wet sex and with a grunt, pushed into her. He didn’t stop, he wasn’t gentle. The man sheathed himself completely in his beloved in one deep, hard thrust. “Ohh fuck…” he moaned, falling atop her. Hands gripped her hand, holding her tit, thumb brushing her nipple. “That’s where I belong,” he hissed in delight, not moving, just being in her.
Cami knew she was breaking rules. Something about it felt so right. They had both aged and learned. The lines were blurrier than she remembered. His normal stern and dominant stance had appeared softened. She watched him closely as he undressed. The sight causing a huff to fall from her lips. He was perfection.
She widened her legs, allowing him easy access as he pressed the tip against her dripping cunt. In a second he was inside of her and her legs wrapped about his waist as he filled and stretched her. She knew better than to move, no matter how much she wanted to feel him pumping. He would give her what she needed, she trusted him that much. "Yes, daddy, it is." She whispered back, her chest heaving under his palm.
Open to all;; M/F/NB
((possible connections: (step)brother, consigliere, anyone involved in the mafia family))
Rain fell steadily, beating out a rhythm with the windshield wipers as they made their way to the club. Six black SUVs flanked two stretch limos. The flashing lights of their escorts reflected harshly off the pooled water and soaked surfaces. An entire family in mourning. The motorcade roared to a stop in front of a tall brownstone. The awning read Pacifico’s - A family place. Men with greased back hair and black suits surrounded the limos, ushering the mourners inside.
Nerezza Marta Pacifico slammed a newspaper down on the desk, clicking her tongue with annoyance. “Do you see this?” She chided, speaking to no one in particular. The consigliere were gathered about her, clearly still in shock at the loss of their Don. She tapped her finger impatiently on the headline, which read ‘Local businessman slain’. Her jaws worked against themselves, her eyes narrowing. “They didn’t even name him!”
She swooped her arm across the desk, clearing the flimsy black and white pages. “Get out. Go. Mangia. Cin Cin.” Those gathered shuffled out quietly amongst murmurs of condolences. She shook her head, tipping it back and pinching at the bridge of her nose. She could hear the noise of their family and friends drinking and eating in the hall outside. This had been her grandfather’s first business, and now it was down to her and her brother. Of course his business rivals would set in quickly, something la famiglia would have to crush.
Marty, as her inner circle called her, tried her best to breathe. She would do anything to calm her nerves, settle her churning stomach, and slow her racing thoughts. She hadn’t even had time to properly grieve, having just gotten in from the service. As the brunette let out a deep breath, a knock drew her from thoughts of retaliation. “Come in.” It was weird saying that from behind her father’s desk.
The brunette had attended the funeral along with everyone else, but she knew, that Marty’s mind would be on other things. Having snagged a bottle of whiskey from one of the elder men she knocked on the office door just as the inner circle shuffled out. She stood in the doorway for a moment, even after she had been invited in. Golden hues were tracing the lines of stress around the eyes of the other woman.
“Yew need a drink.”
It wasn’t a request, but rather a statement. Kveta set two bourbon glasses down upon the desk and poured them both a healthy amount. She raised her own and clinked it against Marty’s before lifting it. She was quiet for a moment, swirling the caramel liquid, staring into it. Everything was about to change. She could feel it in her bones. And while she wasn’t necessarily afraid of change, she was afraid of losing Marty to the rivals closed in on them.
“So wha’s our next move, boss lady?” The corner’s of her lips tipped upwards as golden hues lifted to meet those of the now-deceased Don’s daughter. “Does t’is mean I cain call yew Dame Pacifico? Cause t’at ‘as a pretty tigh’ ring ta i’.” But joking aside, she knew that Marty needed to establish her authority, and do it quickly.
Marty couldn’t help but to sigh again. Her eyes didn’t bother to drop to the woman who had entered. This place was her personal Fort Knox. There were no less than fifty men scattered throughout the building who would take a bullet for her. That didn’t count the women. “I need about eight drinks.”
She couldn’t help but crack a smile. Two fingers of stout amber liquid. “I think you were reading my mind.” She motioned for Kveta to take a seat across from her as she downed the first sip of warmth. Marty shrugged out of her blazer, tossing it over the back of her chair. The potential new Don downed the rest of her drink. The liquid warmed down to her core.
“Let’s not forget about little Joey.” She laughed a little. Her brother was a formidable businessman and was ruthless. But far less people would suspect her of running the show. That meant less danger and the ability to control everything. Her brother had been drinking himself into a stupor for days now, leaving everything up to her.
“But, honestly, tonight…we drink.”
The brunette chuckled and nodded. She believed she could do all things through whiskey, but tonight was about Marty and the loss she had suffered. She sat down on the desk and kicked off her heels, lifting her feet until she was lounging on the desk. It was not a sign of disrespect, but rather that she felt comfortable around Marty that she could be so familiar with her. Though, they had grown up together. Her father had brought Kveta in off the streets when she was younger and been the missing father figure in her life. So, she, too, was feeling the pain of his death. Yet, like every other death she had lived through, she was compartmentalizing.
“Jus’ use ‘im…” There was a note of seriousness in her voice. “Joey is a good business man. Tell everyone t’at Joey is t’e one runnin’ t’e show– everyone bu’ t’ose closes’ ta yew an’ t’ose who yew know yews cain trus’. Make i’ look like ‘e’s in control an’ yew’s go’ yewrself an empire fit fer a queen.” She nodded and tilted her head. She knew better than to count him out of the picture, but right now Joey was pretty useless. He was hanging over the bar about eight drinks in. He couldn’t run anything right now. But would people take a woman seriously in this business? Kveta didn’t know.
“Tonigh’ we drink!” Kveta could raise her glass to that. She sipped the harsh liquid feeling it as it burned its way down her throat.
“Y’know… I really admire yewr drive an’ strengt’.” Kveta bit down on her lip. Marty had always been beautiful, in Kveta’s mind, but what really drove home her attraction was that Marty had the brains to back up her beauty. She knew what she was doing and what would be most effective to help the family business.
The other woman had Marty’s head spinning. It had been done before. Every powerful man had an even more powerful woman behind him. Her dad had been no exception. First it was her mom and then Marty stepped in. She hosted dinners, tended wounds, called lesser shots. She knew better than anyone how to run the Don’s empire. She pushed out of her seat, rising to come from behind the desk. She had already lost her blazer and now her heels. A simple shift dress. Black would be her color for at least a year. The brunette poured them both another drink as she perched on the edge of the desk in front of Kveta.
“You’re a genius. Anyone ever tell you that?” Her mind churned with every possibility. Who could she include? Kveta clearly. Maybe her cousin Marshall. Francesco was out, he had always favored Giuseppe. “Don Nerezza has a nice ring to it.” She raised her glass in response to Kveta and winked.
“And I admire your loyalty. A family is nothing without each other.” A warm smile spread across her features. It was the first smile she had genuinely in weeks. The war between families had gotten out of hand. And the latest victim was her father.
Doing her best Marlon Brando, she spoke. “You come to me, on the day of my daughter’s wedding…” Marty downed her drink and started laughing.
The young woman’s cheeks flushed an almost golden rosey hue as the new Don called her a genius. Kveta was just a girl from the streets. Sure she had been with the family since she was about 14, but she didn’t really have as much experience as Marty did. “No’ in so many words.” She laughed lightly and took a sip of her second drink. She was glad she could be so frank and relaxed around Marty. Her friendship and her beauty had Kveta’s heart a mess, confused about the attraction she felt, but disregarded her own feelings. She just wanted to see Marty succeed.
“‘Ells yeah i’ does! Don Nerezza, t'e grea'est Don t'is family’s ever seen!” The brunette raised her glass. “Ta yewr 'ealth, yewr reign in t'is city, an’ ta our friendship.” There had been plenty of toasts for Marty’s father, but looking forward, Kveta wanted to toast to their new leader. She nodded, family was all they had. “Yews will always 'ave my love an’ my loyalty, Marty. Wha'ever yew need, I’s will be 'ere fer yew.”
Though she began to laugh right along with her at the impersonation, chanting “'ere, 'ere!” Before downing the rest of her whiskey too. She poured them both another glass and scooted closer, tucking a lock of Marty’s hair behind her ear.
Family came in all shapes and sizes. She knew that. When you're Italian, especially in the mafia, everyone was your cousin. Even the smallest lineage link strengthened the bond and solidified alliances. Knowing who to trust was especially important. Dissension, even in the slightest, was the be quelled. She knew the rules and the game. Now it would be time to make moves of her own. Pay the loyal. Kill the dissenters.
Marty knew Kveta was to be trusted. She had long since paid her debt to the family, yet here she stayed. The woman drank down the fiery liquid, accepting such a lovely toast. "And, Kveta, your reward will be great." She was already feeling looser. She caught the others hand as it tucked the strand behind her ear. Marty brought the palm to her lips, a sign of respect. Her other arm slung around Kveta's shoulders, drawing her in. "La famiglia".
Her mind raced with ways to make Joey submit. Stroking his ego would help, but so would asserting her dominance. It would be a slow dance. She knew that Kveta knew some of the other members that lingered on the fringes. A giant game of chess.
Jordan and Atria
He couldn’t help but crack at smile at her insistence. “I have seen many a beautiful woman, indeed. But breaking hearts, I’ll leave that to others.” He jested. He had thought for a split second to say you, but thought better of being too forward. He took another sip of his coffee, eye casting a glance around the nearly empty shop. He certainly wasn’t getting any work done. Not with the lovely distraction of an old acquaintance.
“I might just have to take you up on that offer. But only if you let me return the kindness.” He was thinking of his selection of rare bourbon. He had few true vices in this world, high end liquor and chasing gore ranked tops. “Though, my place is still closed up, it may take a few days.” Having only been back stateside a few hours, the idea of rejoining life was daunting.
Jordan had made a lucrative living studying people, and the people he felt most drawn to were those like Atria. She was beautiful, mysterious, wealthy. Her life would have looked perfect to all appearances. But Jordan knew no life was perfect. He came from good stock, summers in the Vineyard, doctorate from a prestigious school. Post doc training under some of the most brilliant profilers to live. Yet he found solace in cocaine and women. No matter how many crimes he solved, it would never be enough. He wondered what was enough for her.
A bright laugh was pulled from the woman as she sat back in her chair. He didn’t have to say that he would leave the breaking of hearts up to her. It was right there in his tone– implying that she left men lying around mourning her absence. While yes, that was true, she also enjoyed leading them on. The game was just as fun as walking away as they begged for her to stay. Though, if there was anything that Atria was good at, it was luring unsuspecting men into her web of lies. Unfortunately Jordan was smart enough to see that. He certainly would make for a fun project. Oh, she could have fun breaking him…. Though, she still believed that nothing could top the priest that she had practically Pavlov’ed through sex and heroine. That, as of now, was her crowning achievement.
“Oh please,” she hummed, “You would find someone if you simply… relaxed a little.”
However, her lips tipped into a frown when he mentioned that it might be days before he might join her for that bottle of wine. Atria didn’t have that sort of time. She needed to figure out what his files hid before he dug and found out the truth.
“Please, you must come join me at my place, then. I insist. At least until your place is habitable again. I have more than enough room.” A dark brow rose. Would he take the bait? That was the real question. Of course she’d be crazy to invite him to her real home– her mansion– but she had a safe house which she stayed in more often than not. It certainly held every lavish touch that Jordan would expect of her.
“I can even supply for you if you’d like?” her voice lowered and became sultry as she gazed at him.
Jordan cleared his throat, rather uncomfortable at the mention of him finding someone. He would never allow that. Never be able to give his attention to another person. He had better things to do with his brilliant mind. He had criminals to catch. Murderers. Pedophiles. Sadists. People who deserved to rot.
His facial expression mimicked hers. Normally he used this as a trick to garner empathy, but he was genuinely uncomfortable with her offer. "I couldn't impose in such a way. I've got a rather comfortable desk chair." He offered a chuckle. "Though, I won't turn down a drink."
He finished collecting his things. Everything tucked into its proper place. The professor adjusted his glasses. Staying at his place wouldn't be impossible, but he certainly couldn't invite a beautiful woman to it. Her sultry gaze caught him off guard and he cleared his throat out of habit. "Shall I-, uh give you a bit to get things settled? I've got an errand to run."
Mundayyyyyy
Feel free to send asks to the mun!! 💌💌💌💌
😍- is mun currently crushing?
💞- is mun currently in a relationship?
👀- mun eyecolor?
👂- Last song you listened to?
🎶- mun’s Favourite song?
🏄- mun’s Favourite hobbies?
🙊- does mun swear? A lot? A little? Never?
💀- what is mun afraid of?
😴- opinion on naps?
😂- does mun consider themselves funny?
😏- does mun have a dirty sense of humour?
🐢- favourite pet?
🍔- favourite food?
↖ is always looking for new RP partners (◑‿◐)
Open to all;; M/F/NB
((possible connections: (step)brother, consigliere, anyone involved in the mafia family))
Rain fell steadily, beating out a rhythm with the windshield wipers as they made their way to the club. Six black SUVs flanked two stretch limos. The flashing lights of their escorts reflected harshly off the pooled water and soaked surfaces. An entire family in mourning. The motorcade roared to a stop in front of a tall brownstone. The awning read Pacifico’s - A family place. Men with greased back hair and black suits surrounded the limos, ushering the mourners inside.
Nerezza Marta Pacifico slammed a newspaper down on the desk, clicking her tongue with annoyance. “Do you see this?” She chided, speaking to no one in particular. The consigliere were gathered about her, clearly still in shock at the loss of their Don. She tapped her finger impatiently on the headline, which read ‘Local businessman slain’. Her jaws worked against themselves, her eyes narrowing. “They didn’t even name him!”
She swooped her arm across the desk, clearing the flimsy black and white pages. “Get out. Go. Mangia. Cin Cin.” Those gathered shuffled out quietly amongst murmurs of condolences. She shook her head, tipping it back and pinching at the bridge of her nose. She could hear the noise of their family and friends drinking and eating in the hall outside. This had been her grandfather’s first business, and now it was down to her and her brother. Of course his business rivals would set in quickly, something la famiglia would have to crush.
Marty, as her inner circle called her, tried her best to breathe. She would do anything to calm her nerves, settle her churning stomach, and slow her racing thoughts. She hadn’t even had time to properly grieve, having just gotten in from the service. As the brunette let out a deep breath, a knock drew her from thoughts of retaliation. “Come in.” It was weird saying that from behind her father’s desk.
The brunette had attended the funeral along with everyone else, but she knew, that Marty’s mind would be on other things. Having snagged a bottle of whiskey from one of the elder men she knocked on the office door just as the inner circle shuffled out. She stood in the doorway for a moment, even after she had been invited in. Golden hues were tracing the lines of stress around the eyes of the other woman.
“Yew need a drink.”
It wasn’t a request, but rather a statement. Kveta set two bourbon glasses down upon the desk and poured them both a healthy amount. She raised her own and clinked it against Marty’s before lifting it. She was quiet for a moment, swirling the caramel liquid, staring into it. Everything was about to change. She could feel it in her bones. And while she wasn’t necessarily afraid of change, she was afraid of losing Marty to the rivals closed in on them.
“So wha’s our next move, boss lady?” The corner’s of her lips tipped upwards as golden hues lifted to meet those of the now-deceased Don’s daughter. “Does t’is mean I cain call yew Dame Pacifico? Cause t’at ‘as a pretty tigh’ ring ta i’.” But joking aside, she knew that Marty needed to establish her authority, and do it quickly.
Marty couldn’t help but to sigh again. Her eyes didn’t bother to drop to the woman who had entered. This place was her personal Fort Knox. There were no less than fifty men scattered throughout the building who would take a bullet for her. That didn’t count the women. “I need about eight drinks.”
She couldn’t help but crack a smile. Two fingers of stout amber liquid. “I think you were reading my mind.” She motioned for Kveta to take a seat across from her as she downed the first sip of warmth. Marty shrugged out of her blazer, tossing it over the back of her chair. The potential new Don downed the rest of her drink. The liquid warmed down to her core.
“Let’s not forget about little Joey.” She laughed a little. Her brother was a formidable businessman and was ruthless. But far less people would suspect her of running the show. That meant less danger and the ability to control everything. Her brother had been drinking himself into a stupor for days now, leaving everything up to her.
“But, honestly, tonight…we drink.”
The brunette chuckled and nodded. She believed she could do all things through whiskey, but tonight was about Marty and the loss she had suffered. She sat down on the desk and kicked off her heels, lifting her feet until she was lounging on the desk. It was not a sign of disrespect, but rather that she felt comfortable around Marty that she could be so familiar with her. Though, they had grown up together. Her father had brought Kveta in off the streets when she was younger and been the missing father figure in her life. So, she, too, was feeling the pain of his death. Yet, like every other death she had lived through, she was compartmentalizing.
“Jus’ use ‘im…” There was a note of seriousness in her voice. “Joey is a good business man. Tell everyone t’at Joey is t’e one runnin’ t’e show– everyone bu’ t’ose closes’ ta yew an’ t’ose who yew know yews cain trus’. Make i’ look like ‘e’s in control an’ yew’s go’ yewrself an empire fit fer a queen.” She nodded and tilted her head. She knew better than to count him out of the picture, but right now Joey was pretty useless. He was hanging over the bar about eight drinks in. He couldn’t run anything right now. But would people take a woman seriously in this business? Kveta didn’t know.
“Tonigh’ we drink!” Kveta could raise her glass to that. She sipped the harsh liquid feeling it as it burned its way down her throat.
“Y’know… I really admire yewr drive an’ strengt’.” Kveta bit down on her lip. Marty had always been beautiful, in Kveta’s mind, but what really drove home her attraction was that Marty had the brains to back up her beauty. She knew what she was doing and what would be most effective to help the family business.
The other woman had Marty's head spinning. It had been done before. Every powerful man had an even more powerful woman behind him. Her dad had been no exception. First it was her mom and then Marty stepped in. She hosted dinners, tended wounds, called lesser shots. She knew better than anyone how to run the Don's empire. She pushed out of her seat, rising to come from behind the desk. She had already lost her blazer and now her heels. A simple shift dress. Black would be her color for at least a year. The brunette poured them both another drink as she perched on the edge of the desk in front of Kveta.
"You're a genius. Anyone ever tell you that?" Her mind churned with every possibility. Who could she include? Kveta clearly. Maybe her cousin Marshall. Francesco was out, he had always favored Giuseppe. "Don Nerezza has a nice ring to it." She raised her glass in response to Kveta and winked.
"And I admire your loyalty. A family is nothing without each other." A warm smile spread across her features. It was the first smile she had genuinely in weeks. The war between families had gotten out of hand. And the latest victim was her father.
Doing her best Marlon Brando, she spoke. "You come to me, on the day of my daughter's wedding..." Marty downed her drink and started laughing.
Open to all;; M/F/NB
((possible connections: (step)brother, consigliere, anyone involved in the mafia family))
Rain fell steadily, beating out a rhythm with the windshield wipers as they made their way to the club. Six black SUVs flanked two stretch limos. The flashing lights of their escorts reflected harshly off the pooled water and soaked surfaces. An entire family in mourning. The motorcade roared to a stop in front of a tall brownstone. The awning read Pacifico’s - A family place. Men with greased back hair and black suits surrounded the limos, ushering the mourners inside.
Nerezza Marta Pacifico slammed a newspaper down on the desk, clicking her tongue with annoyance. “Do you see this?” She chided, speaking to no one in particular. The consigliere were gathered about her, clearly still in shock at the loss of their Don. She tapped her finger impatiently on the headline, which read ‘Local businessman slain’. Her jaws worked against themselves, her eyes narrowing. “They didn’t even name him!”
She swooped her arm across the desk, clearing the flimsy black and white pages. “Get out. Go. Mangia. Cin Cin.” Those gathered shuffled out quietly amongst murmurs of condolences. She shook her head, tipping it back and pinching at the bridge of her nose. She could hear the noise of their family and friends drinking and eating in the hall outside. This had been her grandfather’s first business, and now it was down to her and her brother. Of course his business rivals would set in quickly, something la famiglia would have to crush.
Marty, as her inner circle called her, tried her best to breathe. She would do anything to calm her nerves, settle her churning stomach, and slow her racing thoughts. She hadn’t even had time to properly grieve, having just gotten in from the service. As the brunette let out a deep breath, a knock drew her from thoughts of retaliation. “Come in.” It was weird saying that from behind her father’s desk.
The brunette had attended the funeral along with everyone else, but she knew, that Marty’s mind would be on other things. Having snagged a bottle of whiskey from one of the elder men she knocked on the office door just as the inner circle shuffled out. She stood in the doorway for a moment, even after she had been invited in. Golden hues were tracing the lines of stress around the eyes of the other woman.
“Yew need a drink.”
It wasn’t a request, but rather a statement. Kveta set two bourbon glasses down upon the desk and poured them both a healthy amount. She raised her own and clinked it against Marty’s before lifting it. She was quiet for a moment, swirling the caramel liquid, staring into it. Everything was about to change. She could feel it in her bones. And while she wasn’t necessarily afraid of change, she was afraid of losing Marty to the rivals closed in on them.
“So wha’s our next move, boss lady?” The corner’s of her lips tipped upwards as golden hues lifted to meet those of the now-deceased Don’s daughter. “Does t’is mean I cain call yew Dame Pacifico? Cause t’at ‘as a pretty tigh’ ring ta i’.” But joking aside, she knew that Marty needed to establish her authority, and do it quickly.
Marty couldn't help but to sigh again. Her eyes didn't bother to drop to the woman who had entered. This place was her personal Fort Knox. There were no less than fifty men scattered throughout the building who would take a bullet for her. That didn't count the women. "I need about eight drinks."
She couldn't help but crack a smile. Two fingers of stout amber liquid. "I think you were reading my mind." She motioned for Kveta to take a seat across from her as she downed the first sip of warmth. Marty shrugged out of her blazer, tossing it over the back of her chair. The potential new Don downed the rest of her drink. The liquid warmed down to her core.
"Let's not forget about little Joey." She laughed a little. Her brother was a formidable businessman and was ruthless. But far less people would suspect her of running the show. That meant less danger and the ability to control everything. Her brother had been drinking himself into a stupor for days now, leaving everything up to her.
"But, honestly, tonight...we drink."
