#theworthiest

[pseudoneiriic]

@theworthiest​  /  ask. 👔  :    your  muse  notices  that  my  muse’s  shirt  is  open   &   goes  to  ‘  fix  it  ’ .                

immediately, charles slaps away the other’s hand. how disgustingly forward, for a man slurping on his chocolate bar to approach him so. what manner of filth must he have on his hands, metaphorically and literally? his skin is crawling with disgust.

and for that matter, in what world is it acceptable for someone to attempt to button up another’s cardigan anyway? cardigans, charles is sure, can be worn any which way. in fact, he’s just decided now that they are rarely buttoned up.

so not only is this man filthy, but he has utterly poor taste. his voice carries a bit of a bite to it when he speaks, though it’s not intentional. “ — are you in the habit of touching perfect strangers, then?”

[gameswillbeplayed]

“how exactly did you manage to give yourself a black eye?”

Matt throws the originally-frozen-now-half-melted chicken nugget he has been holding over his eye towards Mello’s head. It’s not a great throw by any stretch but it gets his point across.

“I didn’t ‘give myself a black eye’,” he huffs back, defensive, air quotes and all. “…” 

“…I dropped my toothbrush under the sink and when I bent down I hit my face on the sink. Happy?”

@theworthiest

[zirable]

[ imessage → fellow eboy legend🥀⛓️ ] tbh straight men are suckers

[ imessage → fellow eboy legend🥀⛓️ ] the amount of money i’ve made?? catfishing chads on tinder????

[ imessage → fellow eboy legend🥀⛓️ ] give me three months max. i could give the kardashians a run for their money lol

@theworthiest​ .

[manamuses]

@theworthiest​

“If you think about it, I wasn’t actually trying to steal from you. My hand slipped.” Normally he was better at this whole pickpocket thing. But he could tell right away that the other picked up on his attempt.

[paralumine]

@theworthiest​ :

❝ I feel everything. ❞

“ hm, if you don’t mind my asking, what exactly do you mean by that? ” sheer intrigue compels a thumbnail to prod at pursed lips. 

L then mulls over the other’s assertion before continuing with, “ ‘ everything ‘, i feel, has a loaded definition - too many connotations that make it rather useless in describing feelings. ” he shifts every so slightly in his seat. toes brush mechanically against one another. “ i could be wrong, though. analyzing personal feelings isn’t my strong suit. ”

AFTER HOURS SENTENCE STARTERS  /  accepting , specify muse .

[carnetage]

@theworthiest​  /  ask. 👕  :    your  muse  helps  my  muse  get  dressed  after  my  muse  sustains  an  injury  or  illness .

“come on, get up.” matt’s voice is deadpan, but he can’t hide the way he looks back at mello once more than he has to, checking to see if it’s really so painful for him to move. it is,

 so he swallows his concern and finds his way over. “here... i’ve got some of my clothes. wear those, they’re comfier.” and less likely to irritate the burns sustained all across mello’s body.

the whole thing was terrifying. knowing that mello could have been dead, seeing the scarring on his face, his body mangled. the leather had burnt itself onto him in places. if matt hadn’t shown up when he did... if he hadn’t been watching...

well, he doesn’t want to think about that possibility, even though mello is a walking kill switch. it’s just part and parcel of falling in love with the wrong people for the wrong reasons. honestly... matt’s an idiot for leaving wammy’s to find him, but there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

mello needs him, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it.

he carefully starts to unbutton mello’s tight clothing — honestly, he shouldn’t even be wearing this shit right now — and carefully begins to pull it off, mindful of the injuries. he’s never wanted to hurt mello. “just lean on my hand and i’ll get this shirt on. you mind just stripping down to your skivvies? i can give you a pair of my pants. whatever’s more comfortable, just not this nightmare. your legs can’t breathe with these on.” matt pauses, and his voice goes soft, almost uncertain. “i won’t... it’ll just be me that sees.”

[sinsweets]

@theworthiest​.

                she was practically DROOLING - but only specifically at the extra - large chocolate bar the other was holding . all of the bakeries &&. sweets shops were closed for the night &&. while she had enough on hand to last her the night , none of it was chocolatey goodness . however , judging by appearances ( immediately , as she tended to do ) he seemed like too much of a hassle to actually TALK to - so she’d settle for staring &&. drooling .

[wordplcyer]

           @theworthiest     ♡

anyone who’s ever met you would say you’re too nice to be in a gang. and they’re probably right. you don’t have special skills, and you’re not useful for much besides grunt work. and even so... mello’s given you a place. allowed you to learn from the best. gave you purpose.

gingerly, you set down the plastic bag. “hey, boss. i got you more of the chocolate you like.” without being ordered to, but you’ve been careful not to have your face caught on camera. “the cameras didn’t see me, i just... noticed you were running low.”

you hover, uncertain of what to do next. “l-listen, i...” you start, but you can’t continue before a flush starts creeping up your cheeks. you’ve never had to confess to anyone before. it’s always been them confessing to you. not that there’s anything to confess. there shouldn’t be. sayori’s...

just thinking her name makes your lungs constrict with sudden anxiety.

“i just... wanted to thank you again. for everything you’ve done for me, and everyone here.”

[kllsworn]

@theworthiest​ Has a Deathwish 

“I don’t give a fuck who’s turf this is. You gonna  get in my way too? I’ll slice ya up real good.” 

[parlecrit]

@theworthiest​​  /  ask. ✈ — an eye-opening memory.

nothing would ever be the same again.

the sounds of his parents arguing when he came home from school have always been a familiar litany up until now. he used to write it in his diary every day — today, mom and dad are arguing about money. today, mom and dad are arguing about other women.

his dad hasn’t come home today, and the flowerpots are broken, soil spilled over the kitchen tile. these plants usually sit on the windowsill, and they don’t move save for the times his mom dusts once a week. he remembers staring at the roots, how feathery they look, realizing he’s never seen them before.

your father and i are getting a divorce.

the plant blurs in yukki’s vision, and he hastily wipes away the tears, stays absolutely silent. there isn’t much to say, in the end. there’s no room for negotiation. he’s always taken the roots of the plant for granted, known that they’re there, but he’s never thought he’d see them scattered on the floor.

he knows his mom’s face is pale and gaunt. he can imagine the puffiness around her eyes and the redness in her nose. dad isn’t here to tell him goodbye. he can imagine that it was something about money or women, that his mom had chased his dad out before yukki got home from school. that she started crying and throwing the flowerpots on the floor just to hear them shatter. her hand is bandaged, he can see it resting on the table in his peripheral vision, but she hasn’t cleaned up the corpse of azaleas, with its precious roots uncovered. if he looks too hard, he can imagine they’re twitching, and he’s struck again by how he’s loved and cared for this plant for so long only to have never seen its roots.

scary, how there are things you’ll never know about something until it breaks.

[kureign]

“what a shame... that you had to be mixed up in this business...” viola shakes with inaudible laughter, her voice the sound of pure evil, of poisoned coffee and dripping sludge. the sort of sound that any reasonable person would want to shut their ears to. but of course, no reasonable person would actually do so. who would want to offend a woman as eerie as this?

hand poised delicately at her lips, viola continues to tremble at an unspoken joke. “now... you’re mixed up with the cadaverinis... hee... hee... hee...” just the name should be enough to strike fear into the intruder’s heart. the cadaverini group, the mafia group lurking in the los angeles underground. “how... unfortunate... that we’ll be having a bonfire tonight.”

@theworthiest​

[yellowribboned]

child muse vs current muse

tagged by: stole it from meme..... tagging: ahem. @idollatry​ @theworthiest​ @androphobias​ and uh anyone else who wants to the thing is very.... like girl-oriented so its hard to kinda make male muses in it i think

[pseudoneiriic]

@theworthiest  /  call.

“chocolate is not meant to be eaten like That,” charles explains, his voice a bit dull. he is a sickly-looking young man, with his skin indoor-pale and clammy from lack of time spent in the sunshine.

and this prim little child is referring to, of course, the way the man’s tongue is slithering over the chocolate bar as if the appendage were a devilish little snake. “you’re only supposed to take two squares of chocolate at a time. any more is horribly rude.”

the child looks at the stranger now, as if asking, now what do you have to say about that, young man?

[manamuses]

@theworthiest​

“Pretty fucking slow day, isn’t it?” He doesn’t remember the last time a day felt like it dragged on this long. In reality it was probably less than an hour of doing nothing now. But it really did feel like it’s been several.

[carnetage]

〚 🕆 〛   starter call                                 —   @theworthiest​  ,  matt

“mfffa, hu — aafuh.” matt mumbles past his cigarette — he never learns, does he? never learned how to talk with ashes crumbling on his lips, never learned that he doesn’t know how to — before huffing out a cloud of smoke and taking it out of his mouth. smoke curls from his open mouth, spirals up to the ceiling.

a dry cough, followed by a little laugh. “mello, you gotta look at this.” the way he grins makes it obvious that he’s not doing work, just slacking off, spending some time being the kid he’d never been allowed to be. the kid neither of them were ever allowed to be.

he swivels the screen round so mello can see the edit he’s made. it’s a picture of mello, but matt’s edited it so he’s dressed like a king, with a crown and sceptre to boot. “whaddaya think? accurate? i’ll put n under your foot here, and then we can send it to him.”

[captainofthemilano]

Hypothetically, hypothetically, if I have a question that might me a little dumb, can I ask it without you laughing me all the way to Knowhere?