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hey! this blog is an archive and iâll be over at @frmaggio (aka a Main Blog Now)
                   PROSCIUTTO & FORMAGGIO
                    ( written by marie & guixi )
                        RULES / RULESÂ
                            (x , x)
hey! this blog is an archive and iâll be over at @frmaggio (aka a Main Blog Now)
dami .. what happened to the bookshelf? ( halloween verse uvu )
The shelf was half off itâs hinge, the books once placed neatly were now scattered on the floor, saved only by the graces of a hardback cover, though some pages were bent and book spines snapped in half of their lesser, plastic cover cousins.Â
A werecat sat delicately in the room as though he was witnessing the mess himself for the first time, mouth agape in faux surprise, and somewhere, if oneâs sight was keen enough, a dead spider in the midst of the mess. Such was the scene Florentino walked in on.
â I donât know.. what did happen to thâ bookshelf? â Damiano questioned, emerald hues squinting as they broke their unblinking gaze from the demon to the mess he totally and absolutely didnât make. Someone, he felt as though that wouldnât cut it, and his partner had a way of getting the truth out of him sooner or later.
â Well.. â His feline ears twitched, before lowering slightly as some semblance of guilt crossed the monsterâs features. â I was just deciding t'take a nap right on thâ armchair when I spotted something moving across thâ books. Now, I couldnât see at thâ angle tâat I was in, because I was in my domestic form, so I tâought Iâd just.. jump up there. â
His ears finally flattened the rest of the way, making Dami look quite miserable for himself.
â I mightâve .. underestimated how big I still am in tâat form ân got a little stuck. So I started pushinâ books off and trying to get thâ spider and ended up breaking thâ shelfâŚÂ â
He trotted from the armchair over towards Tino, gently ducking his head under his chin and hiding his embarrassed, guilty face against his neck. â â Ahh.. yer not mad at me, are you? â
as halloween is approaching, iâm going to have a temporary monster / supernatural verse to fit the theme. of course, formâs a perfect fit for a werecat, so if you want to interact with this verse / theme youâre more than welcome to. iâll take any asks sent as intended for this verse between now and the end of the halloween week, so if you want canon / etc, specify.
also @aeonics come join me in this au uwu
i canât believe it was never said but formaggio is absolutely a himbo
aeonicsâ:
âfucking thief,â florentino snaps through his teeth, glaring daggers at the boy on the ground. âempty your pockets, i want to see.â
lip pulling in sheer contempt, one lithe hand gestures to its opposing wrist, bare of any accessory beneath a neatly pressed sleeve. heâll size up the boy on the ground, debating whether or not a scuffle would turn to his advantage.Â
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â Yâtâink yâcan demand anytâing of me? â Damiano rebukes in turn, finding himself increasing unamused at the petite blond. He was probably double his weight, and he really thought he was going to bow down like a reprimanded dog just because he was rich?
He gives a slight grunt when the tip of his shoe dug into his side and he decided to show how much he thought his money was to him by gathering the saliva in his mouth and spitting it across the brand-named, triple digit costing footwear. Damianoâs grin was vicious, like a cat bearing itâs fangs. He wouldâve proceeded to stand up had the other boy not decided to plunge into his pockets anyway.
â -- Oi! Get off me yâprissy little bitch! â Deciding heâd entertained this for far too long, the otherâs knee held him down long enough for Florentinoâs sparkling watch to peek out of confines of dirty cotton before he acted. The back of his hand aimed to strike him across his jaw, his other pushing his shoulder as he forcefully attempted to stand against his weight.
â I gave you yer fuckinâ warning, â Damiano snarled. He continued, shouting, irregardless of pedestrians on the street beginning to stop and pay attention to the scene of the scuffle. Both hands grabbed fistfuls of the boyâs shirt, intending to lift or at least restrain him.
 â I betchaâve got a million of those fuckinâ watches anâ youâd rather get yer face beat in to a pulp tâan let it go? Youâre so far up your own ass tâat you canât see shit, boy. â
Physique Pictorial: Vol. 16 #2 35 Cents Sept. 1967
See my gay magazine history lesson here. True shit, man!
misc form hcsÂ
- whilst he is sexually attracted to both men and women, form only can really develop romantic attraction towards men. i donât think he himself really realises this because his emotional maturity is dogshit and he barely believes heâs even capable of romantic feelings period.Â
- he never really corrected people if they called him straight or gay, because he doesnât even come across the term âbisexualâ until his la squadra days. he only really mentions that he âlikes bothâ when questioned.
-heâs assured in his masculinity in a way thatâs kinda hilariously progressive for 2001, as he doesnât consider stereotypical feminine products (makeup, lingerie, etc) to be anything but what they are, not separated in âmenâ and âwomenâ stuff or feel emasculated by wearing/applying such things. in modern verses / modern standards, he doesnât consider himself gender non-conforming for this, but has on occasion challenged gender stereotypes.
- when heâs heavily burnt and scarred as a result of canon, postverse formâs self esteem and confidence in his appearance basically shatters to zero. he finds it very difficult to shake off the insecurity when a lot of people would stare at his injuries on the street.Â
aeonicsâ:
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aeonicsâ:
thereâs something fleeting in the idle rhythm of damiâs thumb against his hand, and it pulls his attention for the briefest moment away from the tv display. azure eyes scrutinize the point of contact as if they could hope to identify what has their owner simultaneously comforted and mildly concernedâ and florentino pushes it off to another day.
heâs never been fond of damianoâs âjobâ, even as the very thing that drove him to the emergency ward to receive care at the tail end of a shift that shouldâve ended peacefully and quietly.
pursed lips donât bother parting around the hum welling in the back of his throat, holding back any commentary until heâs filtered through the first scoff that comes to mind: of course they wonât play fair. awfully pessimistic, he supposes, but heâs never been the one gazing through rose-tinted glass.
disquiet follows in the sardonic wake of a baited sigh, lacing his every nerve with a tension heâs certain damiano can feel even in all its subtlety, a brace for the inevitable, the disaster, whenever it may fall. he forces himself to relax, but the tightness in his jaw says heâs failed as much as the cold tint to his voice.
â .. i donât blame you.â  heâll shut his eyes to the dim light of the room to narrow his focus on the many possible outcomes.  âwhen is this happening?â
Damiano falls silent once again, letting the question posed by the other set an uncomfortable pressure. His idle caress halted, his grip stilled and he prepared himself for the fallout to come. He shouldâve told Florentino sooner, really, but he knew how much the man tirelessly worried over him. His ideas and methods of trying to get him to worry less never seemed to work as intended, though.
â Next week.. â he tentatively states, as though his words were a slow crawl, trying to navigate around a danger or threat. He doesnât look at Tino then, eyes glued to the white noise the television produced. â Thâ date was pushed forward by a month. â
To which he was, of course, only informing of this development now. Tense sighs exhaled to ease some of the tension, body sinking further into the plush security of the couch and in the arms of his partner, praying as though it would swallow him whole, and he wouldnât have to fight against what was essentially a death match.
â I know yâcanât be seen to be in tâere, â Damiano murmurs, fully aware of Tinoâs career. Not wanting to be itâs blight or downfall was one of the many reasons he had yet to visit him in his office or the hospital he worked at, as though his mere presence would get the surgeon in trouble.
â -- But.. I tâink Iâd feel a lot safer knowinâ you were, just.. just in case. â
schismaniaâ:
     âRoughâ wasnât the word heâd use to describe how devastated and heart-broken he was, followed by a numbness that he couldnât get rid of to this day. He could still remember the two of them fucking on the bed he shared with his girlfriend, followed by the scent of tobacco coming from the cigarette that he pressed against his lips as he stared at what he had done.Â
       Anasui almost wanted to laugh when the other made his comment. Was murder ever the âright thingâ ? He did not gain anything from it, not even momentary satisfaction. The only lost cause that there was, was himself. Despite his experience, he could not give up on the idea that one day, he could be loved just as much as he could. This guyâs words wouldnât discourage him, not when he firmly believed that only love could save his bastard soul.Â
       He didnât understand it. Not many could, and it became evident with what was said next. Genuine confusion was shown when he directed his stare at the other inmate. Both of his brows knitting together with a mild tilt of his head as he questions. ââBallsâŚ? I didnât have anywhere to go. Thereâs nothinâ out there for me. â It was never a choice to be free.
â Man, youâre what.. early to mid twenties? â he guessed, eyes squinting as he sized the other male up. Formaggio figured that he was older than him, but other than that, he didnât have much of an estimate to place Anasui at. It wasnât too important for him to know exactly, but it made his point. â -- And tâatâs your attitude? â
He sighed lightly. â Tâereâs always gonna be sometâing out there, better than what youâre gonna find in here. Now, I ainât thâ type tâtry to convince those that are already too far gone into believing in a magical life outside of prison, but I feel like yer throwinâ away yer life here. â
Wishing that he had pockets to shove his hands in, he ended up crossing his arms loosely in front of his chest, neutral rather than defensive.Â
â Donât let yerself be stopped by one chick. Thereâs plenty of hearts out there that mightâve even been better than her, but youâre certainly not gonna be findinâ her here, in prison. Probably late advice for you now, but yâknow. Yâcan either be king of the sandbox here, or king of the entire fuckinâ world. Do you get me? âÂ
morteesigaretteâ:
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medicomorteâ:
    Thereâs something that piques his interest in what the other chooses to say, and that was the implication that he earned enough to waste his money on films that were not worth it. It leads to make Cioccolata wonder what exactly each member of his team did when their services werenât used. Did they have that sort of freedom like himself? No, that couldnât be⌠If it were true what this man said, surely this place wouldnât look like shit.
       Only a hums leaves him in response, not entirely convinced or satisfied with the answer he was given, but it wasnât his place to pry. He could easily get that sort of information elsewhere, but that wasnât the reason for his surprise visit. Cioccolata was, in all honesty, bored of doing nothing other than following the routine. Even he lost the joy and thrill that came with murder, regardless of the different methods that he used for their execution. What he needed was something or someone to inspire himâto awake his excitement and passion for what he did. He thought one of the members of such a troublesome team could help him with that. After all, he deeply enjoyed chopping one of their members into pieces.
         Cioccolata continues to look through the set of DVDs, carelessly throwing them over his shoulder after inspecting them. Such a waste of resources for the camera to fail when showing the bodyâsome amateur work even using fake bodies or clips and disguising it with a filter to hide the obvious alteration of the product. Cioccolata knew because he had seen them before, and every time, he ended up disappointed.
           A sigh leaves him, and the doctor turns on his heel to face Formaggio once more, whilst placing a hand on his hip. âââI sell high-quality movies. No glitches, no turning the camera away and miss something. My partner, SeccoâŚâ Free hand moves to pet his head as if he was a dog rather than a person. âââHe captures every angle with precision. Unfortunately, Iâve been suffering from a lack of inspiration and Iâd like to hear some ideas. Amuse me, and I will give you a copy before it even hits the market. You can do that, right?â
Formaggio hissed out something under his breath in response to the doctorâs careless treatment of his property. Probably the only thing that worked in his shitty apartment was the TV, CD player and the toilet. He quickly made short movements -- wary of the dog-like human on guard -- to grab at the DVDs before they hit the ground. No doubt the flimsy casing, sometimes even just plastic jewel cases, barely served as a protective layer.
â I donât know, is it gonna be some sort of fuckinâ bullshit irony? â he mutters, arms half-full of the thrown DVDs. He set them down near by his feet, within some indiscriminate pile of junk and trash that vaguely held some sense of organisation, if one threw every meaning and sense of the word out.
â Yâknow -- I tell ya thâ idea and my reward is â making it onto filmâ ? â Formaggio clicked his tongue disapprovingly. He mightâve found that hilarious himself if he wasnât the candidate lining up for the almost quite literal chopping board.Â
Heâd rather just buy the movies from him outright than play his game, but he figured that he wouldnât be all too willing to sell to him if he didnât play ball. Then again, this was assuming he could even afford his prices and for once, Formaggio wasnât keen on offering alternative ways of payment.
â Fine. I want tâ see someone or feral animals just rip someone to pieces and yeah -- no turning the camera away! Zoom in on tâat shit, on thâ -- thâ tendons and whatever ripping. â he expressed. â Yâalready got a dog right there, why not let yer camera man have a bit of star time? He looks like he got teeth tâat can rip right târough. Not thâ most original idea, but damn gruesome, donâtcha tâink? â
aeonicsâ:
heâll reluctantly venture away from the blanket draped over their slouched figures to grasp at the remote, all room-temperature plastic, with only bored contemplation reflected in his gaze.
thereâs nothing on, but florentino skims the guide anyway, lamenting the late hourâs quiet in the gentle roll of his eyes and the pressed line of his mouth.
heâs never been a subtle person, at least, not when it came to questions. heâs grown fond enough of damiano, he knows, to detect hesitation when he hears it, to register the otherâs little shift as reluctance, to rest his head on his shoulder until his honey-blondeâs probably gotten in his face to entice an explanation.
one pale hand, decidedly warmed to room temperature, turns to lace its fingers with damianoâs and give a squeeze for good measure. âsomething bothering you?â
Gaze downcast, his prompt at first only draws out a sad sort of smile onto his lips. It was impossible to hide anything from Florentino, he simply knew him too well when he was hiding something crucial or not. He angled his head to be able to look at him without disturbing his place at his shoulder, caressing the back of their laced hands with his thumb.
â.. a few tâings, â Damiano tells, lids drawn low enough that his lashes grace his cheek for a moment, an exhale following suit. â -- tâis upcoming match .. itâs.. a little more organised than to my liking.. â
Lips pressed into a thin line, he always struggled with his words, finding it hard even to the point he was embracing his boyfriend that he couldnât quite fully explain the circumstances of his lifestyle. It had been drilled into him, certainly at a young age, what not to say.
But for Tino, he persevered, he deserved to know what worried him.
â .. what I mean is .. Iâm representing thâ owners of the ring. Yâknow, Passione. â He clicked his tongue. â .. and my match is between a rival gang challenginâ tâem. Iâve just got a bad feeling theyâre not gonna be playing fair when it comes to match time. â Â