just... *sigh* thinking about takumi

don’t get me wrong i love eli.se le.on cam.illa and mar.x is good too but outside of the general royal sibs + retainers etc i hate no.hr like they’re good characters bt ASBHDAKSDASFJNASF fuck gar.on and fuck everything they did ever for that cause

chrissy: hoshido shouldn’t have to forgive the fact that they were wronged me: 

today my friend asked me if takumi was a prep and i was like well we all know that hoshido is a bunch of prep-jocks so takumi is a prep by association but he is an emo by NATURE. 

believinghxpe:

          takumi can empathize. much as he wishes he couldn’t – much as he wishes his head were light as the wind with his arrows – he understands. it isn’t until sora mentions leaving that takumi’s stomach churns, and he tries to stifle the agitated look on his face. there’s no hiding the reluctance, not really. he can’t help it; he’s too much like an open book. 

           they dance around an uncertain truth, and it’s only a matter of time. 

           “i was – while you spaced out, i finished my training.” he gestures to the handful of arrows plucking the target’s side, steadily edging closer to the red. “if you want to, go ahead. but i’m leaving once everything is cleaned up.” – to clear his head, more than anything. “you weren’t bothering me. my concentration isn’t that easily disturbed.”

me writing one post then logging off for 25 years? likely

believinghxpe:

           their connection is a tough one to explain. everything else taxes takumi so deeply and emotionally in the wake of his grief; spending time with sora is a welcome breath of fresh air. the solace, however strange, is one he can’t help but question. his instincts are knee-jerk skepticisms: it’s only a matter of time before he leaves, or takumi disappoints them both. more than anything, it’s a miracle that he’s learned how to keep composed through fears like these. not to mention the abysmal intervention, like smoke itching its way into the back of his lungs. 

          so he understands when sora spaces briefly, even if his creased brow suggests otherwise. “... it’s fine. it wasn’t important.” he nocks an arrow for a practice shot, aims, then fires. when he makes his bullseye, the ache in his chest softens... and he turns back to the other with worry coloring his eyes. “what else is on your mind?” 

me remembering my existence here: ah,

          “that much height is overrated. and then you all go and seem so surprised when you get knocked over.”