#saviorcmplx

[valuehope]

@saviorcmplx​ asked: “ hey. i'm not going anywhere without you. that's a promise. " // rescue-related prompts

   DESPITE THEIR SITUATION, a small smile pulls at Makoto’s lips following Rantaro’s words— it’s good to know they still have it in them to stick together, even when the world seems to be working tirelessly at stopping them. Plus, he does appreciate the promise, especially after telling Rantaro it would be alright to go on without him. Quick glance downwards, where both of Makoto’s hands clutch his upper left thigh; of all the times his bad leg ( with the bullet scar to prove it ) decides to practically lock up, just his luck that it’s when they’re trying to discover crucial information. 

       “Oh, in that case, ah— thank you, Rantaro, really. I... have no clue what’s happening, honestly... not that it hasn’t acted up before! But it was fine a few seconds ago...” If ‘fine’ only means ‘not barely able to walk,’ then sure. “I’m sure it’s just a little locked up, I can walk on it again in no time! I... still wouldn’t want to keep you waiting, you know?” 

[pseudoneiiric]

@saviorcmplx​​  /  source

Rantaro smiles, a faint chuckle leaving him - he hopes it’s reassuring. If his totally chill, totally relaxed, not at all anxious persona is a little too lighthearted for this conversation, well… he’ll just switch it off. “Well—c’mere,” he says, patting the space beside him. “If you wanna talk about it, maybe I can help.”

“h-huh? what?” lesson learned: don’t make self-deprecating jokes around amami. saihara’s made this mistake before, but they never seem to remember not to do it. they can sort of see how comments like this could be concerning to others... but they always just sort of assume that people won’t be. concerned, they mean. after all... who would worry about someone without any real talent, someone who can’t look people in the eye, someone who doesn’t even feel like they have anything to offer? confidence is supposed to come from yourself, and they know that they won’t believe others if they said that saihara had things to offer.

and even then...

“i-it’s nothing,” they say, with an air about them that suggests that it kind of is something. “just... c-coffee jitters. i mean, everyone gets a little anxious when they drink coffee, right?”

[icaruscmplx-a]

[ wall ]   your muse shoving mine up against a wall. sighs

‎‎‎‎‎‎  ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎          Any  other  time,  Leon  would  be  worried  that  he  pushed  a  little  too  far,  that  maybe  he  should’ve  stopped  while  he  was  ahead.  An  apology  would  be  rolling  off  his  tongue  even  if  he  didn’t  know  what  he  did,  heart  pounding  as  anxiety  coursed  through  him.  This  time,  though...  He  knows  exactly  what  he’s  done.  By  now,  he’s  sure  of  what  to  do  to  get  into  specific  situations.  Getting  pinned  was  all  part  of  the  plan,  and  an  arrogant  smirk  plays  on  his  lips  as  he  has  the  nerve  to  get  comfortable  right  against the wall  he’s being  held against.

‎‎‎‎‎‎  ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎          " I  get  why  you  want  my  'backstage  pass',  but  I'm  not  givin'  autographs  right  now,  "  he  finally  says,  his  playfully  innocent  tone  betraying  the  mischief  in  his  eyes.  Careful  hands  reach  up  to  wrap  his  fingers  around  the other's  wrists  as  a  warning.  Not  as a sign that  he  plans  to  do  anything too risky,  but  that he  will  keep  them both in  place  until  he  either  annoys  Rantaro enough to drive him  away  or he  gets  forced  into  silence.  “  I  know  a  few  ways  you  could  remember  my  name  though,  if  you're  interested  in  those.  Anything  works  for  me… I'm  pretty  flexible.  "

[ahsterism-aa]

@saviorcmplx​ asked: [ touch ] for your muse to rest their forehead against mine’s @ RYOUKI.. // word prompts

    RYOUKI DOESN’T DESERVE THIS. He doesn’t deserve forgiveness from Rantaro, doesn’t deserve such a tender gesture that most people in their right minds wouldn’t think to give someone with as much blood on their hands as Ryouki has. No matter the time passed, it still stains his palms, sinking deep into frighteningly thin skin and making its home there, impossible to scrub out as much as he might try ( funnily enough... nothing about what he thought was his own ending had made him feel any cleaner ). 

   He tried so hard to be good, to pull himself up from his bootstraps every time he felt knocked down, but... he can’t forget how it felt to crack. Wondering where it ever got him: a mother and sister who resented his own existence, inferiority no matter how hard he tried, dead classmates lining up one after the other. He won’t forget the weight of a gun in his hands, the sound as they hit the floor. Itwassupposedtohelphehadtohehadto.

         Yet, Rantaro brings him closer instead of shoving him away, and all Ryouki can do is whimper, like a half-choked sob lodged in his throat. “Why are you doing this?” Whispered, after a moment to collect himself. Oh, he has so many more questions like that, temptation to sabotage lingering at the back of his mind. But... he ignores it this time. 

   “I’m... sorry.” It’s not good enough for this. But it’s a start. “I’m so sorry.” 

[icaruscmplx-a]

@saviorcmplx​  sent:  “  I  don’t  feel  like  I  survived.  ”  :)" 

‎‎‎‎‎‎  ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎           “  You  can  say  that  again...  We'd  probably  be  better  off  if  we  didn't.  ”

‎‎‎‎‎‎  ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎           As  if  enduring  his  class'  killing  game  and  spectating  class  77's  wasn't  traumatizing  enough,  now  they've  been  thrown  into  another  one  that  drains  even  the  most  energetic  of  people  so  they  all  feel  like  a  walking  corpse.  Admittedly,  it's  a  good  tactic  on  the  mastermind's  part.  But  that  brings  nothing  but  bad  news  for  the  participants.  Whoever  the  mastermind  was  this  time,  Leon  promised  himself  he'd  make  them  regret  doing  this  to  them.  If  he  survived  again,  that  is.  They've  only  just  begun,  but  surely  their  group  of  previous  survivors  knows  better  than  to  kill  for  any  reason  thrown  their  way.  They  all  know  the  rules  by  now,  they're  not  going  to  make  the  same  mistake  their  Blackened  friends  did.

‎‎‎‎‎‎  ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎           (  Hopefully,  anyway.  He  thought  the  same  thing  in  the  first  game,  and  he  was  quickly  proven  wrong.  )

‎‎‎‎‎‎  ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎           "  Wish  I  had  advice  to  give  on  how  to  live  when  you're  supposed  to  be  dead,  but  there's  not  really  a  Wikihow  for  that.  "  Or  much  of  a  Wikihow,  period.  Arms  move  to  hug  himself  after  he  speaks,  as  if  to  keep  from  falling  apart  in  front  of  someone  else,  and  he  manages  to  flash  an  apologetic  smile.  His  usual  kind  of  humor  probably  isn't  too  appropriate  right  now.  "  I  get  that  you  feel  dead  right  now,  but  don't  let  that  actually  end  up  killin'  you.  I  promise  we're  all  gonna  get  outta  here  and  bury  this  mastermind  six  feet  in  the  dirt  and  then  that'll  probably  make  you  feel  a  little  more  alive,  alright?  Just...try  to  hold  on  for  that.  "

[icaruscmplx-a]

aaaand dynamic tags <3

[valuehope]

@saviorcmplx​ asked: ❛   tousle .   mess  playfully  with  my  muse’s  hair . //  loud & deafening silence ( nonverbal prompts )

   DESPITE MAKOTO’S EFFORTS to hide his own exhaustion, he’s starting to get the sense that attempting to lie isn’t exactly working in his favor— mostly because he’s decidedly terrible at it. Openness near constantly on display ( he knows it now, at least, after multiple people have definitely suggested improving on that sort of thing ), he can’t exactly help how obvious his current state is! Still, convinced he can handle a little tiredness, Makoto does his best to brush past it, although he doesn’t think Rantaro is really having that. 

  Just about to come up with another claim to explain how he’s perfectly fine, words are abruptly stolen from him with a sudden, yet gentle tousle of his hair. Taken by surprise, Makoto’s breath pauses as all his attention directs towards Rantaro’s fingers carding through light brown strands, but before he knows it, his shoulders begin to droop and he finds himself relaxing with the touch. 

        ... Welp, if trying to verbally convince him didn’t work, playing with his hair sure does.

 “Ah— um...Rantaro?” Talking isn’t working to his advantage, either, as Makoto’s eyelids still grow heavier, and a looming sense of lightheadedness begins to take over, head tilting slightly to the side leaning right into the gesture. “I’m just a little tired, really! But, well, this-” Pause, failing to resist his yawn this time. “-This is nice, too.”