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Post by dom on Apr 24, 2011 18:58:23 GMT -6
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---IT WAS AN AVERAGE SATURDAY
[/size] for dominique giovanni. she woke up, got dressed, studied, hung out with her brother, cleaned her living space, and it was still only about two o'clock, and she was working a night shift at the aquarium, the late feedings, clean up, all that fun stuff. thatgave her a few hours to do whatever she wanted, which really was quite rare considering the girl rarely had spare time. when she did, she barely knew what to do with herself. this time, however, she had an idea. from what she'd heard from a little bird, a.k.a. her brother, his boy's poker night a couple days ago had been pretty, well, dramatic. it ws a wonder anybody who'd been there that night was still alive, considering it was probably world war three within those walls. dom hadn't been aware of the details between luca and lorenzo's arrangement, and she was particularly surprised to hear that luca had a moretti girl working with him that he'd failed to mention. she'd never been one to choose sides, but she could definitely tell why maggie was upset, and she had every right to be. luca should have just came back when the hit had been removed, then it wouldn't be a crisis every day, but he didn't and here it was. messy as ever. pulling out various ingredients, dom began to mix them together, and then pulled out chocolate chips. cookies were a universal symbol of happiness, right? or at least, it should be. they were delicious, god knew lorenzo liked them. then again, he was a walking dumpster, he'd probably eat them no matter what. she was confident though, one of the few things she was ever confident about. her cookies were divine. add chocolate? well then, there was no denying that they'd be irresistable. so she was going to make cookies for maggie. it seemed small and maybe stupid, but that was her way of saying "hey, i care." maggie knew that, or at least she should be now. it wasn't like this was the first time she'd ever done something like this to try and give mggie's day a pick-me-up. she was family, and dom loved her family. so she mixed together the various ingredients, humming to herself all the while, and then separating the dough onto a tray and sliding it into the oven. it wouldn't take too long to cook, so in the mean time she gathered her things and got ready to leave. as soon as the oven beeped, signalling the completiong of the scrumptious delights, dom hopped up, letting them cool and then wrapping them up in a pretty box. the etter presented, the better they tasted, or so the brain typically liked the think. sliping them into her bag, she grabbed her camera and left the building, deciding to walk. it wouldn't take that long if she cut through the park and neighborhoods. not to mention it gave her a lot of picture time. she'd decided to go to the lounge, hopig dearly that maggie would be there because she definitely didn't want to go to the loft. if she and luca were there, well, she didn't want to have to testify at anybody's murder trial. she wanted to be neutral when that happened, don't ask, don't tell. the loft was off limits until the fire was put out. as she went on her way, she snapped a few shots of the birds, the trees, the pattern of clouds and people as well. she liked having a variety when the muses came to her, and life itself was just fascinating. everything had its beauty. most people saw the plainness and simplicity,the thing that came to mind at first glance. dom liked to find the hidden light, and the burried darkness. there was good to every evl, and vice versa, and every bit of it was worth the attention and analysis. before she knew it, there was the m lounge, right in front of her. she passed into it quietly, not much going on since it was the middle of the afternoon, but dancers were arriving, getting ready, and there was a couple of minglers around. dom never really knew the mechanics of the place, so she wasn't sure how the schedules worked, but one thing she did know was where maggie's office was. she approached it casually, lightly tapping her knuckles on the door. no answer. she reached for the handle, and as it twisted she was a little surprised to find it open and maggie nowhere to be seen. the girl slipped in quietly, gently pulling the bowed box out of er bag and setting it right at the center of the desk. she looked around for a sticky note, and as she found one, dom scribbled a quick note for maggie on it before setting it atop the box and exitting the office and closing the door behind her. as it clicked shut she ambled through the lounge, intending to leave soon. as she reached the door, out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a familiar face. j.r. corinthos? she'd only met him once, at maggie's wedding around five years ago, and then she really hadn't seen him again, though she remembered his face. he resembled maggie, it would be hard to not recognize him. hesitantly, she decided to go have a chat. after all, it wasn't like she had anywhere to be right at the moment. approaching him from behind, she carelessly sat down in the seat next to his own, "well, well, it's like the wedding all over again," she laughed a little to herself, staring at the bar counter in front of her, "except maggie and lucs are fighting like baby sharks in the womb now," she shrugged awkwardly, not exactly the best example to use, "but still." [/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote] status•finished.
tagged• j.r.!
comments• ---
attire• click.
credits• format inspired by vsiders. banner goes to me.
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Post by jr on Apr 24, 2011 21:19:55 GMT -6
 VALKYRIE, CALIFORNIA, M LOUNGE, AFTERNOON, SAT. JANUARY 2012[/font][/center] -----it was a shit day. hell they all were shit days. j.r. didn’t like being here probably more than any other mindless fuck who was stuck sleeping on the sidewalk because their house had fallen down. the only issue here? j.r. had a place to sleep. he had a place to retire to every night and though it wasn’t the ritz, it was better than the gutters of valkyrie. but the hell they went through now was nothing compared to his, not only because it was different from the pain j.r. put himself through, but because j.r.’s hell was his choice. at least the people on the streets were there because they had no other options, j.r. was living in misery by choice. it was as if he liked the idea of being miserable and wanted to bathe in it a little longer. was that really the case? fuck if he knew. j.r. couldn’t even tell you what he was thinking anymore because each day blurred into the next. every waking moment was a haze of alcohol and anger issues and it wasn’t fun. it was all an accumulation of everything he’d repressed over the years and boy were there a lot of issues to repress. technically speaking j.r. had been screwed from the get go. the very moment he’d been conceived as the eldest son to a drug lord was like signing away his life. there was nowhere to go but down from there and though no one really liked to consider it, everyone knew it. everyone in this life knew that there was no such thing as normal. no matter how much he’d wanted it in the beginning there would never be some white picket fence for him to look back on and smile. there would never be some happy ending for him because the truth of the matter was that even if by some miracle he’d found a loophole that would give him some semblance of a normal life, he would always be haunted by the things he’d said or done or the things he’d witnessed. the man was screwed in the head but what other choice did you have when you were the birthright to a drug empire? now that his sister had taken that over by force his options were a little less limited but did that really put a halt to what or whom he was becoming? of course not. he still had the memories, he still had the fucked up past, the only difference between this moment now and this same point in time some five years ago was that he didn’t have the promise of horrific entitlement hanging over his head. did that make the situation any better? of course not.
-----it seemed like nothing could really satisfy the eldest corinthos male. it didn’t matter whether he had that same future looming over his head, he still had anger issues which haunted him like no other. it didn’t matter whether or not he actually had to take over the business, he still had the memories that woke him up at night, images ingrained in his head from his father’s different methods of desensitizing. no one really knew the kind of things j.r. had encountered while under the wings of juan corinthos because, well, he didn’t talk about it. not ever. he didn’t tell people that those days when he was locked away with his father, juan would verbally beat it into his skull that this was a legacy worth fawning over and that he should be damn appreciative of the easy life he was handing to him on a silver platter, could have shown that he wanted it a little more. j.r. couldn’t bear the thought of taking over a bloody business like that his father owned. anyone, down to some of his own children, were expendable. hell maggie had been served up on more than one occasion as a sacrifice for the “greater good” and it had done nothing more than piss juan off every time she came out on top. but for all the times she had tried and failed, j.r. had succeeded, in being the focus of juan corinthos. the man had forced him to shoot a man point-blank in the head as a teenager. he’d taken his first life at thirteen years old, tears streaming down his face as his father’s big hand clamped down on his holding the gun and had forced his scrawny little fingers to pull the trigger. he’d had to wash the spray of blood from himself and his clothes in order to shelter the rest of the family from what had happened though that didn’t mean that j.r. was any bit as fragile. no. he was the heir. he was supposed to be the strong one who was groomed for the business and liked it. he was the one who was forced to have nightmares about a life he never chose, a life that had chosen him.
-----see? even if he wanted to get out of the business and live a real hum drum life, it would never be possible for a guy like j.r. real life would never be in the cards for him because he was fucked up in the head and that would always be the case. no matter how good things got around him, he would always fall back on the things that happened and would feel out of place amongst the good in the world. that was just the way it worked. you took a life and you felt sullied. no amount of confessions or justifications would help you feel at home in a family or whatnot. no matter what would happen you would always feel like the dark brand on your family and your loved ones, the harbinger of death and misfortune if you would. you could have the brightest life with a loving wife who adored you like the sun shined out of your ass with three perfect little children who never made mistakes and were the bane of everyone else’s existence but you would always feel out of place, you would always feel as though you didn’t deserve everything you have because of the things you’d seen and the things you’d done. at least if that was the path life brought him down, it would be the way j.r. felt. he didn’t think he was capable of a happy ending. he didn’t think he deserved any piece of that good life pie that other people took from freely. he would forever be the blown bulb amongst bright, shining lights, the red wine amongst the whites, the stain on a purely white wedding dress and any other kind of misfortune you could think of. he would always be the one to bring something bad to the people he cared about. he would bring about a rain of fire that would burn anyone he cared about. j.r. could already picture it perfectly in his mind. that picturesque scene of a happy him, him, his wife, and his children, all in some modest home with a white picket fence, all doing what some kind of normal family would do. and in that picturesque dream j.r. would come home to see his house bathed in the blood of innocent people who he’d dragged into this life without their knowledge. it was that fear and that glimpse of some would-be future that had turned him into a drinker. he would forever be alone as some outcast of either world. he wasn’t suited for innocent, civilian life and he was too opposed to the criminal world to ever be a dedicated participant. he would forever be that skinny, homeless kid on the street, rain pouring atop his head as he stared into a restaurant at the portly man with two women seated beside him, fawning over him as he chomped down on a filet. he would always be that needy, wanting kid on the outside, wanting some place to fit.
-----so why the m lounge? why the staple to his sister’s criminal career and neon sign of her success? the answer was simple…the booze was free. if there was ever any place to get shitfaced and lose himself it was a place that didn’t hurt his wallet and for j.r. the m lounge would accomplish that from every angle. he poured himself his third shot of vodka, choking it back like there was a fire in his belly and the shit was the water he needed to put it out. it had been that way for a few years now and j.r. was damn sure his liver had yet to forgive him for it. well if there was another way of drowning out the pain that safely avoided his vital organs let him know. otherwise this was his drug of choice. well his other drug of choice came on a pair of long, slender legs but even today j.r. wasn’t sure he was in the mood. women played all kinds of games which, under the right dosage, j.r. could handle without so much as a blink. today? well he wasn’t quite sure he was drunk enough yet. he’d started out with a fresh Goose and there was only a fifth or so gone. he needed more than that for the potential games. he’d had no sign of his sister lately which was never a good sign after a blow up like the one that was rumored to have gone down back at her place of residence. still, not his problem. his sister was obviously strong enough to handle her own and any babysitting on his part would only be perceived as the pity move that it would undoubtedly be. j.r. had no pity for someone who begged for this life as his sister had initially. she had taken on the business, given him a free pass to move on and have a real life, and it was appreciated, but a slim part of him despised her for knowingly choosing this life. hell there were times he flat out loathed her very being because she hadn’t turned away from this while she’d had the chance. it was abysmal and yet another one of the factors to j.r.’s heave-ho of the liquor. he hated himself for hating his sister and the all-around swirl of endless hate was enough to make him want to put a bullet to his skull and end it all. he tipped back yet another shot as he heard footsteps coming from the direction of his sister’s office. there were enough people padding around here that he hadn’t been all too concerned until he’d heard a relatively unfamiliar voice from behind. he looked over his shoulder, eyes at half mass as he took in the figure before him. slender, feminine, and familiar. oh right, she had been one of the swarm of giovannis that had been at the wedding. he remembered her. ”yeah well, you let me know when they’re not fighting and i’ll go die of shock.” he grabbed the bottle and poured himself another round. ”goose?” he offered, well in his special way, ”it’s on the sister.”
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status • finished
words • 1905.
tagged • domior ?
clothes • sexy and form fitting !
notes • holy wow. didn’t know i had j.r. muse but here you go. hope it’s alright.
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Post by dom on Apr 26, 2011 18:06:05 GMT -6
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---DOMINIQUE GIOVANNI WASN'T SOCIALLY
[/size] awkward, she wasn't even anti-social. she was just simply not social. the italian miss knew how to interact with people, and she managed just fine within her close knit circle of loved ones, and when she met new people she always was able to hold a conversation and keep things friendly. anti-social definitely didn't fit her because well, she loved people in general, she loved the public. brilliant people, slow people, mathematicians, chemists, writers, poets, singers, dancers, and even the criminals she'd grow up with and learned to adore; they all struck her fancy, tuned a single chord of curiosity in her very being. why she wasn't a complete socialite? well, it was simply the way she was brought up, taught to shy away from people, always kept the darling little secret. it was a trait brought up with custom and tradition. it was like many people she knew to be a part of the dark undercurrent her parents tried to hide from her. somebody who was born and bred to kill and deceive wasn't going to change their ways overnight. most likely, they would never change. dom hadn't. she'd never imagined how much it would take to adjust. being raised being closed doors and ivory walls, hidden like a precious gem in the sights of the selfish and greedy, well se'd discovered herself quite differently, uninfluenced by anybody but her parent's and brother, who's only real influence was the fact that they made her want to be her own person and not the legacy they'd tried to bring her up as, not the quit princess, doting and polite. lorenzo was more helpful when it came to self identity. his cartoons kept her mind freshly innovated with the different forms of art. her own preferences in the aesthetics had taken a different turn, but it was still a form similar to his own. it was still the one thing she'd taken upon herself and requested f her parents instead of being forced upon her. piano, violin, physics, singing, ballroom dancing, they'd all been lessons her parents had brought in private teachers for. while the majority may not have been her strong points, she still enjoyed the diversity, considering it was the only real diversity she'd gotten, not to mention the various teachers provided her with a wide array of conversations and opinions, something she usually wasn't allowed to partke in due to the fact she was kept to her mansion's grounds and not much more. she could still freshly recall the nights when she'd managed to sneak out and explore, running under the stars barefoot through the nightlife of naples, careful to not be recognized and being perfecty punctual to ensure she returned home before anybody would notice she was gone. even on her occasional outtings she never really spoke to other people, much too scared to have sombody inconveniently be acquainted with her parents and ratting her out. so she'd always stayed in the shadows, observing and marvelling at the natural occurences of the common person. she was a witness, but never the star, as usual. dominique had always been the girl who sat behind the scenes while the world's thespians took on the spotlight. it was simply a part of her nature. when she'd first moved to california, following lorenzo, her parents had nearly suffered a hemorrhage, afraid of how she may turn out when confronted with the trials and tribulations of adulthood. dominique had handled herself well, though. she'd had too strong of a personality to succumb to another's ideas or will, and the mere fact that she was one of those giovanni's had people thinking twice before casually approaching her. while attending the university, she mostly just associated with her family, those who shared her blood, and the rare classmate who she would be partnered with. the most interaction she'd had outside of her bloodlines was the drama department when she would help with scene set up and just creating the sets. as time went on she'd grown more accustomed to people, but still only a select few she spoke with regularly; co-workers, classmates, professors. even j.r. didn't really count as an outsider, though with how well she knew him he might as well be, but he was maggie's brother. she was her cousin-in-law, and that made j.r., well, something. she wasn't related to him, but he was familiar, not somebody on the outside who wasn't aware of her lifestyle and her family. dom had met him at maggie's wedding too, making him all the more familiar. her slender fingers intertwined with each other, her eyes focusing on how her flesh with grown white with pressure, and slowly darken into her olive tone as she released. it wasn't exactly a nervous habit, just a fascination with the human body, something she'd been tempted to follow through with a profession in. when he responded, dom looked up at him, her cold blue eyes scrutinizing his face to see if it was a joke. it didn't look to be something humorously intended, "oh come on," she mumbled through her accent, "as bad as things are now, they're undeniably meant for each other. it'll get better, i'm positive of that," despite all the fuss about maggie and luca's issues, dom was totally pro laggie. they were better than bradgelina, or whatever they were called. even if they themselves couldn't see it, dom could. she knew they'd end up happy some day, despited all the twists and turns. they were just too alike not to clash. "no thanks," she said lightly, looking at the alcohol rather condescendingly. she'd never been much of a drinker. a clear mind was always preferable. "don't drink." she propped one elbow up on the counter, resting her head on it delicately, her gaze intent on the brother of her friend, "so where've you been? you kind of vanished after the lavish event." it wasn' that she'd wanted to pry, not really. but when she'd met the guy, they'd gotten along swimmingly, and then he just left. you wouldn't blame her for wondering, and it was purely genuine. [/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote] status•finished.
tagged• j.r.!
comments• ---
attire• click.
credits• format inspired by vsiders. banner goes to me.
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Post by jr on May 3, 2011 15:47:14 GMT -6
VALKYRIE, CALIFORNIA, M LOUNGE, AFTERNOON, SAT. JANUARY 2012 [/font][/center] -----there was something to be said about a lack of faith in the world. usually it was a sentiment only reserved for the bitter and faint of heart? the people who had been royally screwed over in their life and as such just didn't want to believe that anything good could come from it. was j.r. one of those people? eh, you could find a valuable argument to say so. he wasn't a bad seed. j.r. never grew up as that kid who had to fight the rest of the world because he didn't feel like he had anything. in fact his life was completely different from that. j.r. hadn't needed to go out and fight for what he wanted because it was something his father gave to him on a daily basis, but that didn't mean that j.r. didn't somehow have to deserve it either at that point in time or at some point in the future. he was always given anything his little heart could possibly desire, though j.r. never said a word about what he'd wanted. he hadn't been some spoiled brat who had taken to material things in order to make himself happy. no, it was more like he would walk down the hallway and juan would put something in his hand, both with the realization that at some point he was going to have to work for what he'd been given, despite not wanting whatever the 'it' in question may have been. even if he took whatever it was he was given and tossed it in the river or gave it to one of his half-siblings who really liked it. it was always j.r. who had to earn or deserve whatever he was given. what did that usually entail? oh just doing everything in this life that he didn't want to do. got a car for your fourteenth birthday? you had to shoot someone. get a present for getting good grades at school? that wasn't a gift. a week later you had to order the hint on some man you'd never even met before. things like that. it was like juan corinthos sr. had made his purpose in life to destroy any piece of the humanity that was left in his son. for the longest time j.r. didn't think that juan had done so but after a while, and after a few familial tragedies, it was hard to see the difference between the individual who had been strong enough to say no, and the pathetic criminal whose reflection stared back at him from across the bar.
-----had there been any other way to be, j.r. would have been it. had he known what was to be in his future he would have beat feet out of tijuana faster than a rocket ship and would have never looked back despite having to leave behind his family. did they mean something to him? oh of course. deep in the recesses of the part of his mind who still wanted to feel, j.r. cared deeply about his siblings and a few choice other people because that was the person he really was. but that person was hidden behind an exterior of walls put up by trauma over time. sure it had taken over a decade for juan's tactics to work, but the man would have been proud if he'd stumbled upon the man j.r. was today. he would have been inspired to start again and make a new empire to rival that of his daughter, with j.r. once again as the poster child. despite feeling dead to the world and all who inhabit it, that was still not in the cards for j.r. corinthos. despite not feeling anything both inside and out, he could still never imagine himself like his father or like his sister. both killers. sure he'd had to pull triggers and yes there were souls that he would inevitably face when he finally passed on, a lot of justice for those he'd killed that he had yet to face. j.r. was no religious person by far but should he have been he would have figured he was going to hell in a hand basket. heck he still didn't believe in god or any of that but figured that if there was some kind of divine justice out there that that would be his terminal regardless. he was a hell-bound soul, even if he didn't believe it. because despite whatever may happen when he took that long sleep, j.r. would live his life as if he were in hell for the things he'd done, the things he couldn't control, and the things he couldn't say no to simply because he would never forgive himself.
-----he didn’t expect people to forgive him or justify his reasonings either honestly. j.r. wasn’t looking for someone to tell him everything was okay and to tell him that the things he’d done he’d only done because he’d had a gun to his head. he didn’t need people to try and tell him everything would be okay because it never would be. he would always be this killer. had he not been afraid of his father’s retaliation for j.r. standing up to him, had he not been afraid to just take a bullet to see if his father really would have gone so far, then maybe he wouldn’t have had to take those lives and maybe he wouldn’t feel as though his hands were stained with blood that would never wash away. then again there was also the other route for what ifs. what if he just surrendered to that portion of himself and just became the monster his father wanted him to be? it would be the perfect payback. to finally give into the mob game and immerse himself in it long after his father had gotten the boot. he could be a real animal should he just turn off that moral portion of his brain and just let himself do what was asked of him right? honestly he didn’t understand how people could decipher the two. how did other criminals keep those two sides differentiated? how in the hell could they act human around family members and in society and then have that murderous bone in their body to just shoot someone dead? it didn’t make sense to him at all.
-----all that did make sense nowadays was to sit around and drink. maybe if he worked himself into some kind of stupor he could forgive himself for more than one second, because forgiveness for j.r., or for any corinthos really, was totally and completely uncommon. that was mostly because you had to forgive someone you let get in close or you had to forgive something that happened that effected you and the corinthos mantra growing up had always been to never let anything matter. no one could ever get close, nothing could ever matter, nothing. you were supposed to be devoid of feeling. drinking wasn’t necessarily the method of choice for feeling nothing. in fact it was supposed to be a conscious thought to never feel anything, not something you had to rely on liquor for. since j.r. couldn’t seem to make himself not feel, his only option was to drink. drink numbed the guilty feelings. drinking numbed the past and the memories that haunted him ever moment of every day. drinking solved the problems of the world, at least from the eyes of one corinthos kid. true many other people didn’t see it that way. they probably only saw him as a stupid nuisance as he stumbled down the street but the drunk version of j.r. corinthos was worlds more entertaining and civil than the version of himself that just wasn’t drunk enough. take moments like these for instance when he just wasn’t drunk enough and someone wanted to talk to him. his responses were short, clipped, and you could tell he wasn’t going to be pleasant to be around. made him wonder why the giovanni kid didn’t just up and leave while she had the chance. instead she stood around, trying to strike up conversation and pull him out of his glum outlook on life. one thing was for sure, she wasn’t likely to succeed. ”ever the eternal optimist there, eh d?” he said flippantly as he noticed her condescending view of his drink of choice. ”hey, none of that tuts. not all of us can have bright, shining lives. some of us need a little something to make the day a little more bearable.” he snarled, his knuckles going white as he gripped the bottle. ”you don’t like it then feel free to go find someone addicted to glitter and rainbows.” she still managed to stick around, continuing to ask him questions. ”had to get out of this town.” he said as he looked up at nothing in particular for a moment before turning his gaze to meet hers, a smirk on his lips. ”why? you miss me?”
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status • finished
words • 1541.
tagged • domior ?
clothes • sexy and form fitting !
notes • lmao he cracks me up.
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Post by dom on May 13, 2011 22:59:37 GMT -6
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---THE ITALIAN MAFIA WAS FORMIDABLE.
[/size] it as dangerous. it was traditional. they had a reputation, a reputation of being a force to be reckoned with. dominique giovanni shared blood with the top dogs of the italian mafia. she was a giovanni. now, if her bloodline were russian, or maybe irish, then dominique might be involved in the dirty secret behind her family's well known name. because of their traditional nature, however, dom was never included into the "family business." she wasn't brought up into it, she was quiet and polite, the kid sister of the family because of how naive she had been, not to mention her parents practically locked up in a house. she was grateful, though, to be hidden so carefully from a life the male members of her family thought was second nature, normal. it was the way they were brought up, and there was nothing wrong with it, not in there eyes, at least. to them it was justified. could you blame a child for eating humans if that was how he was raised? okay, well maybe that example sways too much towards dark romanticism, but it was the same general idea. they were a part of an illegal business. dominique didn't blame them. and as mixed morally as she was about the entire situation, dom really couldn't be against it. they were her family, her kin, her blood, her cousins and brother and parents. they were all people she loved. there was no way she could ever be against it, though in another life it would have horrified her, seeing it from a third person point of view. the death, the drugs, the weapons, the prostitutes, all of that stuff would have repulsed her very being. at this point, though, being raised in and around the business, it simply no longer phased her. she would never take part in it herself, not unless it was vital for her family's survival. the young woman preferred not to know the dark secrets swimming around her. it was a don't ask, don't tell sort of relationship. she simply didn't care to know, it wasn't something that would light up her life, it was unecessary for her well being. dom didn't like the secrets, she didn't care. no matter what she'd be supportive, but she didn't want those worries on her shoulders. did that make her a worse person though? that she knew all these awful things her family was capable of and let it slide like their lives really were as mundane as a job as a chef or going to thesupermarket every friday? sometimes she wondered exactly how much blood was on her hands, how much at fault she was? dominique giovanni was not religious, yes, she was catholic by... title, you could say, but she didn't practice religion faithfully. she believed in god, and a heaven, but was never fond of the idea of hell and cruel punishments. it was a question that flickered through her mind every now and again, if she would go to heaven, or hell. would she be condemned just as badly for it? no matter what, she'd never turn her back on her family, but she was still curious of how everything would turn out when she was six feet underground and in lack of a pulse. these were trivial inquiries though, ones that had no matter or effect on the way she intended to live her life. either way she would continue on, shamelessly, working on her studies and going to work. that was her career. that was what she lived for. personally. it was nice to not be the one responsible for carrying on the mafia's legacy. if she'd been born with a different anatomy, well then it would have been like her life had been mapped out before her without giving her much other options. this way dom had been able to follo her own itnerests, to learn whatever she'd liked. despite being hidden from the world like every single living creature other than dominique herself suffered from the bubonic plague, well, she still got her education. if there was one thing she couldn't complain about from her childhood, it was the various amounts of knowledge at her disposal. they'd given her all the opportunities an inquisitive child could ever dream of, she absorbed her lessons like a sponge. those teachings gave her the opportunity to be accepted into a good college and to pursue her fascination ith marine biology, to graduate, and get a job. her entire life had fallen into place, and she'd never even had to touch a gun. somehow, dom perceived j.r. had not been so lucky. it was obvious, how much the world had affected him. it was written all over his face, it reflected in his yes, and most prominently, it was presumable simply by his actions. all the alcohol? all the fury? those weren't common signs of a healthy mentality. "and you're still perpetually angry," she retorted casually. what a pair they were? the alcoholic and the one against drinking, the eternally pissed off, and the aesthetic optimist. they were a contradiction altogether. a grimace crossed her expression at the term tuts, but then she leaned back and raised an eyebrow. "adversity has the effect of eliciting talents which in prosperous circumstances would have been dormant." she quoted, staring at him for a secon before laughing lightly at herself, "that was horace." was it sad how that was the first thing that had come to mind? maybe, but she couldn't help it. literature was one of her favorite things in the world. he was already quite hostile, but she wasn't going to roll over and apologize. she wasn't doing anything wrong. j.r. wasn't exactly known for his sweet disposition. a slight blush crossed her cheeks at his question, her jaw clenching as she shook her head, "ah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" she shrugged, watching a person walk by before looking back at him, "'course not. i was just thinking valkyrie had an overflow of booze," yeah, the sweetheart could hold her own. she wasn't known or her bold remarks, and they usually weren't very offensive, but she still had never been a doormat, "just figured somebody ought to come back who could get rid of the surplus. that's what you're good at, right?" [/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote] status•finished.
tagged• j.r.!
comments• ---
attire• click.
credits• format inspired by vsiders. banner goes to me.
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Post by jr on May 13, 2011 23:43:35 GMT -6
VALKYRIE, CALIFORNIA, M LOUNGE, AFTERNOON, SAT. JANUARY 2012 [/font][/center] -----j.r. corinthos had a multitude of problems and he would be the first to admit that. hell he was the only corinthos family member who would openly admit it. no j.r. wasn’t some special brand of mexican blood who loved getting in touch with his feelings or anything of the sort, j.r. just knew how to get his point across in a way other corinthos kids didn’t. take his sister for example. maggie was a wreck when it came to her feelings. she never opened up about a thing. hell what had surprised him most of all some years ago was the fact that maggie had opened herself up to anyone at all. she wasn’t the type to say, “hey, i like you.” or anything like that. back then that had all been j.r.’s cup of tea. he’d been the most normal of the six corinthos kids if you could believe it. he was the kid that wanted the white picket fence and a wife balancing a baby on her hip as she welcomed him home from some menial job. he was the one whose aspirations didn’t include selling illegal paraphernalia like drugs, guns, or women for money. he wanted to sit at a desk, argue with head honchos and CEOs about the right way to approach a situation. he wanted to have some secretary seated outside his office who he’d dictate little jobs to and get small but heartfelt christmas and birthday presents. he wanted that life. he didn’t want to have blood on his hands. he didn’t want to see the faces of the people he’d killed though the list was nowhere near as long as the others in this business. he didn’t want to be haunted by the life that should have been his legacy had he just broken down and become what his father wanted him to be. it just didn’t work like that. nothing worked like that. but when you had a father like juan corinthos you weren’t supposed to be anything other than a cold blooded killer. you weren’t supposed to have any other emotions other than a lust for power that would drive you to do the horrible kind of things they dreamed up for horror movies. yeah j.r. was the son of that kind of man. he was supposed to have turned into that kind of man. and what was he now? he was a booze soaked shell of a man who fought who he should have been for who he wanted to be. he begged and invisible god every day for an answer as to why this was his chosen life. why couldn’t he have been born to a normal family where the kind of shit he’d seen didn’t happen on a daily basis. why did he have to watch his mother die at four years old? why did he have to wash her blood off his body as his father berated him for something he couldn’t control? why did his father zero in on him as the golden child and the chosen one, the one meant to take on his business and carry on his bloody legacy for generations to come?! FUCKING WHY?!
-----j.r. didn’t want this. he didn’t want a single bit of it. do you know just how much he would have killed to be raised in the shadow of the business the way that dominique had? just how much he would have loved to have been sheltered from the horrors that he’d seen? horrors that kept him up at night and kept the dark bags prominent under his eyes? j.r. was a mess because of everything that had happened to him, and yeah it was possible that he might have been able to sleep better at night had he just given up on this idea of morals and just let things be as they were. had he given up on this hope for being someone normal he would have just turned off his emotions and he would have been the million dollar baby his father wanted him to be. he could have been a stone cold killer. hell he could have put his own father to shame. juna was known for having painted the streets of tijuana in blood when he’d ravaged the other cartels in the area to wipe out the competition and to claim it all as his own. had j.r. stopped himself from dreaming of some better life and accepted who he was, he really could have been his father’s child. there was no doubt about that. j.r. had the ability to make juan corinthos proud. he had the ability to bathe more than just a single town in blood. albeit tijuana was a relatively big city in mexico, but there were other cartels out there, other powers that be that needed to be claimed. there were other territories out there to be take that could have been j.r.’s sole focus had he chosen to follow in the footsteps of his father. it was a scary thought though wasn’t it? j.r., the one who had been referred to as a teddy bear by his own sister when he’d first followed her to the states upon orders from his father. the one who had been perceived to never even being able to hurt a fly. well that was maybe with the assumption that he’d never hurt anyone before, in which case people would be totally and completely wrong. j.r. had hurt plenty and it probably wouldn’t be the last time. that didn’t help the situation much though. knowing that he was capable of even more than he’d done and witnessed already should have made his skin crawl…should have.
-----had she asked him about all the shit he’d faced, j.r. may have just told her. it wasn’t so easy opening up to people and it usually came with a need for more drinking, but j.r. didn’t hold back the way other corinthos’ liked to. maggie? jesus you piss her off and she’d clam up so fast it would make your head spin. then she’d throw something at you in the hopes that she could actually knock your head clean off. she wasn’t one to be fucked with but there were often many times in which you said something that you had no idea had pissed her off until something was sailing across the room, leaving you dumbfounded as to what it was that had set her off in the first place. j.r. on the other hand didn’t throw things other than his fists and that only came with a dutifully matched opponent. j.r. didn’t wail on the littler guys and he certainly didn’t smack around women but get him riled up enough and he was likely to take on just about anything. still that didn’t mean that asking him about his past immediately set him on the warpath. he’d tell you what it was all like…at some point. but he’d enjoy fucking with you first because it was never fun to get into the nitty gritty of life when someone was looking at you with pity. someone needed to always be on some kind of level playing field and that came when both parties were pissed the fuck off. dom seemed to be working herself up to that. she got steamed faster than j.r. would have expected. then again, he was used to pissing people off. he smirked as she popped back some retort about him being angry. sad but true right? ”ah yes baby gio. you know me so well. feel like writing my biography? i’ll cut you a sweet deal.” he gave her shit right back because, well it was fun. he wasn’t quite sure why he was picking a fight. usually it didn’t happen with people half his size and a third his body weight. ”or should i call you bones or twiggy or something?” he rolled his eyes as she started spouting off some kind of quote. ”preach sister preach. maybe one of these days someone will pay attention.” he watched as her cheeks flushed slightly, peaking his interest. he turned slightly toward her, watching her with calculating eyes as she continued to speak. ”eh maybe. you’re not really my type. broomsticks and all that.” he watched as she held her tongue in the presence of someone else. so this wasn’t meant for other ears? why was that, it wasn’t like something actually interesting was being said. ”ah yes and like i dry sponge i should come back and just soak it all up?” he played along. toying with her responses in an effort to get her steamed. he’d never seen baby gio steamed before and it was an interesting thought. ”aw honey i didn’t know how much you cared. you should have just called.” he said flippantly, finishing off his drink before he slid the cup next to the bottle before an odd thought struck him. he could really get her steamed if he wanted to.
-----he turned in the barstool, acting as though he was about to walk away from her before rushing out a big hand, grabbing the base of her neck, and hauling her up for a kiss. why the hell not right? he put her back down as if nothing had happened, giving her a little pat on the cheek before he plopped his ass back down in the chair. ”beat it kiddo. you can’t handle this kind of hell alright?” he said finally with a smirk and a shake of his head as he grabbed the bottle and poured himself another.
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status • finished
words • 1653.
tagged • domior ?
clothes • sexy and form fitting !
notes • thought it might fit here. i can fix if you don’t like.
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Post by dom on May 14, 2011 20:32:41 GMT -6
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---EVERY LITTLE GIRL SHARED A DREAM,
[/size] a dream of a castle in a far away land, a dream of glittering spires, a dream of transforming from a pauper soiled in soot and grime to a princess frosted in gold and diamonds. prince charming was always a part of the fantasy as well, dashing and handsome, good with a sword, and a smile that could melt a little lady's heart to butter. the story typically went the same, as well. the girl grows up wholesome, envied, beautiful, but subtle with a personality to die for. she could usually sing, or had at least some sort of talent, and then she always had an enemy, from a sanctimonious witch to an evil stepmother to a man who desired her for himself without true love. the said foe would capture her, and she would need to be rescued, cue in the heroic prince and his trusty steed. the prince would engage in battle with the villain over a girl he'd fallen for upon first sight. after the victory, they would be reunited, and live happily ever after. that was the generic fairytale most little girls so desperately desired to be a par of when they grew to the age where they were capable of falling in love. how could they not? it was a pure perfection anybody would wish for, one that gave people hope to continue forward in life drowning in the inevitably damned. and then, one day, a girl would find her prince charming, more modernized of course, and get her lavish wedding, or at least some girls did. it was a dream, a fantasy, and for some... an impossibility.dominique giovanni was a hopeless romantic, but she'd started off so differently from the average girl. she'd wanted a fairytale for herself, yes, but hers was a little topsy turvy. she'd started off a princess, guarded like the rarest of precious jewels, not an enemy in sight, not a trouble in her midst. she'd grown up locked away in a mansion, having to sneak out in order to enjoy the pleasures of her home town in naples without the watchful eye of her mother that kept her neatly out of the way of danger, or anything exciting for that matter. there was no childhood sweetheart, no evil stepmother, no vicious foes of any sort, and no talking animals. some classic fairytale, right? she'd started off in a state of grace, and there was no way her life could improve, so it could only get worse. it never did, but there was still time for that, she still considered herself in that same graceful standing. it was less like walt disney was behind the story of her life, and more like the good sir shakespeare was the culprit, and if that was the case, well she'd soon be faced with hell and emotional turmoil. in a way, however, dominique could still relate herself to rapunzel, hidden away in a tower until one day her rescuer came. it was the closest thing she could hold to her heart that was even relatable to her life, but the brother's grimm wrote that little piece of fantasy, and there was always something twisted about their work, though dom herself had never read it. she just assumed based off of the movie made about their stories. that was dom's fairytale though. she was stuck outside the norm of the human population. she'd grown up wealthy and protected, she was intelligent and surrounded by criminals, she had a basic degree in marine biology, she worked in an aquarium in a town that had an overflow of illegal activity, courtesy of it's lose sisterhood with los angeles. this was her quixotic storybook, or lack thereof. at her current state, her last hope really was in the hands of shakespeare, a romeo and juliet story between her and a russian in which they would both end up killing themselves in a desperate attempt to be together. how promising. and even that was a long shot, because dom was simply... no social. she didn't interact with others, and she figure men didn't ever show much interest in her because she was awkward looking with huge hair and bug eyes and overly plump lips, not to mention she was basically skin on bones and much too tall. genetics were not on her side, and look at lorenzo? sure, there was the fact that they weren't fully related, but he was her half brother, technically. he looked like her real brother, the blood one, the cop out one. the man was a total stud, and dom thought he was surreally handsome, she couldn't even fathom why he didn't have a miss on his arm yet, but he would, she was sure of that. dominique's goal was to move to antarctica and pursue a study on sea lions if all else failed. she could have a love affair with nature. granted, that in itself was a long shot since she could never leave her family, but a hopeless romantic with a total lack of romance in her life for twenty-three years, except for small not even worth mention boys, well that was a killer in the hope department. an that was when a girl forced herself into acceptance. j.r. corinthos was no prince charming. he wasn't the villain either, but more like the random side character providing comic relief to the crude minded. maybe if you compared him to shrek in which the entire movie was an example of satire. then, just maybe, would j.r. be the hero of the classic story gone wrong. maybe that was a little harsh, but dom was one who liked to relate things together, to create metaphors and similes to the things in her life so they were more explicable. it wasn't the nicest comparison for the brother of her dear friend and family member, not to mention she'd thought j.r. was quite likable at the wedding, but something must have happened, or maybe it was all just a build up from his life, and maggie's kidnapping was just the bursting point. dom knew it even freaked out her parents who'd almost gone crazy since dom herself had wanted to move to california and they'd already been wary. sometimes certain events placed at certain times could break a person, and then dom began wondering is j.r. was that specific person. in that case she began to sympathize. it wasn't pity, because pity only created a sense of a pathetic lifestyle, but sympathy. if he really was as torn up over everything, well, who was she to judge him. though she wasn't devoutly religious, she still believed it was whatever divine being's place to judge, not humanity's. maybe j.r. was in the right. it made her curious as to how different she would be had she been recruited into the criminal world like the men in her family. what if she'd witnessed all the deaths, what if she'd caused them by pulling a trigger, what if she was hurt or tortured or the torturer. would she be the same? surely not, she would be darker, twisted... just, just not who she was today. dominique giovanni was grateful for her oblivious life, unknowing of the dirty secrets her family had. sure, it would have been nice if she had been so drastically protected, maybe allowed to live normally, but not a part of it. she never wished that. the artsy young woman wasn't one to get catty quickly, but somehow j.r. was provoking the invective reactions out of her. she couldn't hold in the little snaps she'd thrown at him, and while she wasn't really being quite as mean as other women could be, she wasn't being the girl with a usually tranquil disposition everybody knew her to be. it was a little unsettling to know a single person could suck such a response from her. he didn't deserve that satisfaction, it would only feed his lifestyle, which was unhealthy. that wasn't just dom's opinion, it was common sense. drinking away your soul was never a good sign. "you're insane," she muttered turning her gaze in the opposite direction. it was only a reply for lack of anything more profound to say, "twiggy? you're good." her eyes rolled dramatically, though that one hurt a little. she was already aware of how awkward she looked. tall and lanky, it was a signature trade mark. hey, maybe she should be a model, make him eat his words... but that required a certain ferocity, and, well, raw beauty. "do you ever shut up? dear lord," she shook her head, exasperated, "maybe you should actually see a real preacher since you're obviously to drunk to function." that wasn't quite true, he was certainly functioning well enough to make his snide little come backs, unfortunately, maybe she should have waited until he'd drunken more and then maybe he would have given her a friendly response. she was wondering why she even bothered to sit here with him, he was being quite hostile and most certainly didn't appreciate the company, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to get up and go. her eyebrows knit together as he continued to speak, grimacing at his retorts which he seemed to be amused by with bitter satisfaction. she made her expression neutral, speaking in a collected, calm tone, "sorry, i was busy taking care of maggie, something which you certainly weren't doing," okay, maybe that was a low blow, especially to an angry mexican who knew how to work a gun. then again, he may just be too far gone to care, she couldn't tell yet. and then the logical side of her brain was screaming at her to stop wasting her time with his buffoon and leave, except it seemed like he was going to beat her to it. j.r. looked as though he was about to get up and go, except then the unexpected happened. she felt his warm hand on her neck, and then his lips were against hers. she closed her eyes instinctively before her brain called her an idiot and they popped open. the movement was too quick for her to react, otherwise she might have tried to hit him in the head with her shoe. her face was tomato red under her olive skin the blood hot in beneath her cheeks. and the condescending pat on the cheek? nice touch. for a second she just stared at him, too shocked and mortified to even respond. and then her teeth clenched and she closed her eyes, turning to face forward. both of her hands were flat on the bar as she steadied her breathing. a part of her wanted to just cry and another part wanted to slap him and another wanted to laugh and another wanted to just get up and leave. it was an overwhelming flow of emotions, "se mi stai baciando tu sei ovviamente troppo ubriaco-" she said, stopping abruptly, to the air in front of her rather than addressing him. italian always came o her first in intensely emotional situations, and she groaned. her fingers went up to her temples, massaging them, her eyes still closed, "i mean, if you're kissing me... then you're obvious too drunk. you should go home or... or something." shaking her head she looked down at the counter, "really?" she mumbled again, looking at him briefly before diverting her gaze to a window, staring outside, "who do you think you are?" she tried to stay serene, but there was an undercurrent of anger in her voice, "you can't treat people like rag dolls, like they're puppets at your command." dom began to chew on her lip, "its not... its not right." she was lacking anything to say, really. she was so angry, she almost wished lorenzo or somebody had been here to defend her. for once in her life she wanted to be protected, to be in power so she could actually tell j.r. to shove it, she won. but here, one on one with him? she was at a loss of dialogue. she didn't know what to say, or even how to react in the first place. [/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote] status•finished.
tagged• j.r.!
comments• sorry her response is a little lame xD
attire• click.
credits• format inspired by vsiders. banner goes to me. italian goes to google translate, so dunno how reliable it it.
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Post by jr on Jun 4, 2011 22:19:57 GMT -6
VALKYRIE, CALIFORNIA, M LOUNGE, AFTERNOON, SAT. JANUARY 2012 [/font][/center] -----j.r. wasn't a prince charming. in fact he was pretty close to the farthest thing you could get from it. actually no, that was a lie. in crime speak he was actually the closest to it. j.r wasn't as heartless a bastard as he liked to come across. he'd taken a life before but it was at his father's command and it had been his father's hand pushing against his own finger forcing him to fire. though j.r. took the brunt of the guilt and felt horrific things for having done what he did, at the same time j.r. knew that when push came to shove he probably couldn't take a life willingly. other criminals around here had no problem with that. they had no problem going out in some blaze of glory as they bloodied up any and every body that they could on their way down. j.r. wasn't like that. if he was going down in any blaze of glory it would be the glory of putting some drunk to shame, but in reality when he was sober and at his best, j.r. was a damn teddy bear. he had after all been the one that his sister had come to every time she'd had a problem with their father. he had been the one to sit there and ask her how she was doing. At least he had been this person back before maggie had gotten kidnapped. something about that whole situation had just done a number on j.r. for many different reasons. for one thing he hadn't been one that anyone had called. before maggie's fight with her now husband she hadn't called so say she was coming in from some ritzy hotel in los angeles after having been shot at. after the fight she hadn't called to say that she was frustrated and to say that she was going to the docks to do a little business. after she'd been taken luca hadn't called him to inform him because hell he would have come along and he would have killed for her. the one and only time granted. and jesus h christ no one had called after maggie had been saved to tell him his sister was still breathing. it wasn't until juan sr. had called in a pain-ridden panic, telling him to talk his sister down that he'd known all that had happened. to his own sister for crying out loud.
-----having that happen was like learning you were being used. it was like learning that the person you'd been sleeping with, the person you'd been building up feelings for, at the end of your rendezvous went back to their husband or wife and played house there. it was like you were good enough to fuck over but you weren't good enough to trust to make a home with or something trivial like that. j.r. had been a good shoulder to cry on when his sister had needed it but the moment when shit went down and you needed someone big and brawny and willing to kill for you he was the last person you called. it felt like being used. it felt like being spat on. it felt like he wasn't family. after j.r. had spent so long thinking that he hadn't wanted to be a corinthos, after thinking that all he'd wanted was that white picket fence with a good little wife who wasn't tied up in a mob somewhere, he'd finally felt what it was like to be alone and without a family and it stung like hell. the one person that he'd trusted to rely on him if ever something went wrong hadn't even thought to consider him or even notify him when something happened. it was like a knife to the back and it had been too much to spare. the corinthos that wanted nothing to do with the business finally got what he wanted, but he hadn't realized it came with a price. of course the only one who had felt betrayed was j.r. he'd been the only one to think that not telling him had been all kinds of wrong and when he'd looked to confront someone about it, no one gave him the time of day. he'd finally wanted out, he'd gotten his chance, but j.r. hadn't realized that getting out mean that you had to give up everything you'd known about family. he'd never really been a person you counted on before to break someone's legs or make some kind of influence but you couldn't say that he wasn't always there when his family asked him to be. for someone who'd given to much of himself to his family it had been devastating to have been tossed aside so easily. and the worst part had to be that pretty much no one in his family realized that that was what they'd done.
-----staying away for so long hadn't been difficult once he'd accepted things for what they were and found an outlet to getting the hell out. widow had been more maggie' friend than anything else but when she'd propositioned him to go with her on some trek to find kenny's kid, j.r. couldn't really say no. anything was better than moping around in valkyrie feeling sorry for himself. at least where people he cared about could witness. so he jumped at the chance, left a goodbye on a voicemail, and that was the end of it. he had no contact with his family after that for a solid five or so years. he'd been to his sister's wedding of course but j.r. had been replaced by some member of the giovanni so there wasn't much that he'd seen in his brief stint back to show that he'd even been missed. made for an easy escape to say the least. he'd clapped for his sister, ate a piece of mobster cake, and left. that was the end of it. it wasn't until then that j.r. had seen that no one really cared. his father had slunk back to his compound in tijuana to have his wife and his former wife nursing his wounds and plucking over him like the concerned money-grubbing women they were, and his sister had replaced the corinthos with a whole new family of welcoming people. who could argue with that. so having seen what he'd seen it was enough to high-tail it out of there once more and not look back until widow demanded they return. by that point j.r. had lost himself to his anger and to his drinking. the good, brotherly side of himself was still there, buried way deep down and clanging against the steel bars j.r. had put around it to make sure it didn't surface. he was sick of being the puppy whose company you enjoyed 'til you got sick of it and gave it a swift kick aside. he was sick of feeling used and discarded. the worst part was that j.r. could tell the moment he'd kissed dom that that was exactly the effect he'd had on her. and he didn't like it. not one single bit.
-----everything had been fine up until he'd kissed her. they'd had the random jab back and forth which was turning more into a game than anything else. of course he'd clammed up a little the moment dom mentioned how he hadn't been there for maggie. all of a sudden everything he'd felt came rushing back, all the pain of being discarded and forgotten. he should have felt bad but honestly, he couldn't bring himself to. "you're probably right, but i'd gotten enough of that treatment to not come rushing back. you should take the hint before they throw you aside too." he still didn't like the way it stung. the brotherly part of himself always screamed with rage with how j.r. had let his sister suffer alone but how true could that possibly be? she'd replaced the corinthos' with plenty more giovannis and she certainly hadn't come looking for him when shit hit the fan so how much blame could he possibly bear? honestly j.r. didn't feel the right to feel any guilt about it. at least he tried not to. he'd then gone ahead and ruined everything by kissing dom and he could tell by her angry reaction that he'd done exactly to her what he'd been steaming over for years. her involuntary slippage into italian would have been his first clue had he not realized it from the get go. she looked near to tears she was so angry and the fact that j.r. brought that on really heaped on the guilt. he couldn't feel it for his sister but he could feel it toward this piece of her family? go figure. "hey now, i'm sorry." he said as his voice softened and his brow furrowed. he was probably asking for it but he stood from his bar stood and wrapped his arms around her, probably inadvertently locking her arms at her side in case she wanted to take a swing. "that was insensitive of me and i'm sorry." after a moment where she didn't struggle, j.r. loosened his hold and took a quick little step back. "and just for the record, i wouldn't have kissed you unless i wanted to. not because i was drunk" he said matter of factly before sitting back down. "you sure you don't want one?"
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status • finished
words • 1624.
tagged • domior ?
clothes • sexy and form fitting !
notes • sorry that took so long.
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