#radio silence forever

[storm-of-feathers]

ah beans

[hollyoakhill]

Winter is fast approaching

[99percentprocrastination]

details from the radio silence US cover!!!

Aled's lime green plimsolls and ladybug pants!!!

loveless!! the heartstopper leaves!!

the ark poster!! and perhaps a solitaire reference??

literally everything about this but esp FEBRUARY FRIDAY!!!

Frances and Aled besties photo booth moment??

they are everything to me!!!!!

[danketsuround]

First name basis - regarding Kuwana's one-sided relationship with Mitsuru through a cultural and linguistic lens

I haven't seen anyone else point this out so I wanted to mention it because I think it provides some insight to Kuwana and Mitsuru's relationship to each other despite them never having the opportunity to interact in game.

Has anyone else noticed that Kuwana refers to all of his former students by their last names? (Yui) Mamiya, (Yasushi) Akaike, (Shinya) Kawai, (Yoko) Sawa - then, Mitsuru (Kusumoto).

It could be argued that Kuwana refers to Mitsuru by his first name in order for players to be able to immediately distinguish between "Kusumoto" (Reiko) and "Kusumoto" (Mitsuru), but I also read it as how Kitakata unintentionally ostracized Mitsuru from his peers: how, in turn, Kuwana treats Mitsuru more preciously than others.

Tellingly, Kuwana refers to Mamiya and Sawa with the -kun honorific. Most people who have a rudimentary understanding of Japanese know that -kun is often used for young(er) boys. However, using -kun for adult women is more of a formality. In Sawa's case, I believe -kun is used for her out of mutual respect. -kun can also be used by male teachers to refer to their female students.

Despite never seeing Kitakata interact with any of his students in the past, we can infer from the above information that his way of addressing his former students, at least, has not changed.

Kuwana does not refer to Kawai with any honorifics because he is dead and they clearly do not have a close relationship. He uses -san with Akaike or none at all.

However, Kuwana also occasionally uses -kun with Mitsuru - not out of formality like Mamiya, or respect like Sawa, but rather, because Kuwana still views Mitsuru-kun as a child, or the schoolboy he knew long ago.

**** It's worth noting that Kuwana sometimes does not use honorifics with Mitsuru at all. Similar to Akaike, this is more closely related to how Kuwana used to be his teacher (you may drop honorifics of those who are socially inferior, like teachers with students) and not how Reiko NEVER uses honorifics with Mitsuru because they are family members.

To me, this is why -kun popping up occasionally is rather important. It demonstrates that Kuwana believes in a close relationship or kinship with Mitsuru that he never had.

This presents itself in other ways. Firstly, I'd like to note how he speaks to Kusumoto Reiko. Reiko is the only person Kuwana uses honorific language with (です・ます specifically, keigo, but not full seppuku zarei 許してください type of keigo, just a more formal/distant way of speaking, she mostly returns the formality - Kuwana seems to lower himself when speaking to her. Literally and figuratively, lol).

He also uses the fairly distant-yet-respectful sounding 「あなた」 with her. It's no question that he respects her undyingly ("virtuous and capable"!), yet I believe it is very interesting he refers to Mitsuru using -kun when speaking to her as well! He speaks about Mitsuru with her as if they all know each other well.

Take this line from the finale, while speaking to Reiko on the phone after Ehara's trial ended:

"Enough is enough. You and your son have been through enough hell. I want to protect Mitsuru-kun too. Almost as much as his mother."

(This is my favorite line. It's darling.)

Here, Kuwana is recognizing Reiko's struggles while veeeeeery preciously reminding her that he deeply cares for Mitsuru-kun - comparing himself, almost (and boldly so) to that of a maternal/parental figure.

While I don't think that Kuwana actually views himself as a parental figure to Mitsuru, it is important to note that Mitsuru is quite literally the figurehead and motivation to Kuwana's vigilantism:

"If it means I can prevent another Mitsuru Kusumoto, yes, I will keep killing." (Chapter 10)

"Mitsuru and all those kids... For them to have justice, this is what I had to become!" (Chapter 11)

"The day Mitsuru leapt from the roof, I vowed to atone for the rest of my life." (Chapter 11)

"Do you have any idea what [Mitsuru] was like thirteen years ago? Then you have no right to speak to me that way!" (Chapter 11)

This might be a good place to note that Kitakata's name change is referential to the date Mitsuru attempted suicide (September 17th): Kuwana, Ku (9) + wa (1) + na (7) - it's goroawase! Plus 仁 (Jin) meaning humanity, virtue, goodness.

I'd like to use all of this to talk about a much broader and darker theme. As I wrote in the beginning of this post, I believe Kitakata referring to Mitsuru by his first name - unlike the rest of his classmates - had unforeseen consequences. Being called by your first name by teachers is the choice of that teacher, and it is a very deliberate choice in high school. Kitakata "othered" Mitsuru, unintentionally showing him that he was not deserving of the same respect as his classmates.

Kuwana mentions that he thought he was well-liked by his students, even going as far as to not believe that that level of violence, abuse, and bullying could be happening right under his nose. While I don't believe Kitakata ever willingly participated in bullying Mitsuru, Mitsuru still remained outcasted in his own homeroom until the day he fell into a coma. In part, thanks to the way Kitakata singled him out.

By taking this to heart, Kuwana developed this idea that he and Mitsuru are foiled - that his selfish vigilantism is all for "Mitsuru's sake". In Chapter 11, Kuwana says "Mitsuru and all those kids..." - this shows an inability to recognize Mitsuru as anything other than a victim and a child. Mitsuru is not "Kusumoto-kun" or "Mitsuru-san", he is: Mitsuru-kun. An innocent young boy.

Kitakata may have unintentionally put a target on Mitsuru in class, but Kuwana singles Mitsuru out intentionally - by feeling so indebted to him that Kuwana, frankly, develops a parasocial relationship to Mitsuru's tragedy. And in a way, Mitsuru had become his unintended victim twice.

Moreover, the child he failed to protect, and the one he hurt the most.

[kippyzzworld]

aled last core

[mangofresca]

cloudburst

He taps his fingers when he’s bored.

Not that Spain blames him. Not that Spain isn’t also just as bored, dulled, yearning and longing and aching for the willowed shade of broken sunlight through blooming Juniper trees, warmed by humid air and clouds so soft he could pull them from the skies, if only he had the will to lift a hand to them, to try.

His boss will likely scold him for not paying attention, but Spain can’t be bothered today, too unfocused to listen to off-handed bickering made worse through obligation, not when he can still hear the thumping of rain on the roof, pattering against the windows.

Not when he can watch Romano skate his nails against the table, pressing the soft of his fingertips up and down as if he were writing something, composing something, following the tune of a melody only half-constructed and–

Spain sits up a little straighter, squinting.

Romano keeps his eyes half-lidded and hazy, looking for all the world like he is two seconds away from drifting to sleep, but Spain can see the way his fingers move, curled, as if cradling the neck of an invisible guitar, other hand almost imperceptibly pressing down into the table, plucking notes Spain can almost hear being strummed aloud, if only he tried hard enough to listen.

Spain watches, head propped on an arm that fell asleep about half an hour ago, too lost and transfixed on the image of Romano shirking his duties in favor of– of writing, maybe, or composing, creating something Spain is already desperate to hear, to mold into his life in the way he molds everything Romano does, every noise Romano makes.

He’s out of his seat seconds before they’ve officially been dismissed, but Romano doesn’t notice, still in that world of tabletop timbres and notes unwritten, of hands born to cultivate.

“What are you playing?” Spain asks, and he smiles when Romano startles, eyes widening and fingers dropping, forming into fists atop pages with not one word written on them.

Not that Spain blames him. His own are the same, after all.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Romano snaps, cheeks ruddy with caught-out indignation, and Spain knows he was right, that he’d formed himself an audience for a performer who didn’t know he was being watched.

“You were playing something,” he says, beaming when Romano collects his papers with more stumbled force than necessary, always too combative, too cagey with his vulnerabilities.

Romano huffs, says nothing, brushing past Spain with shoulders that are a little too tense for comfort.

Spain follows, whistling, doing his best to find the cadence of whatever rhythm Romano had been tapping against the table.

It takes two months for Romano to bring it up again, and when he does, it’s by dropping down next to Spain in the sand, feet and ankles damp with dusk-sweetened sea foam, hands steady and curled around a guitar he had always insisted he rarely used, that sits too comfortably in his lap to be anything less than adored.

“Don’t say anything,” is all Romano says, and Spain can only bring himself to smile, arms pressed atop his knees as he feels the kiss of broken waves and clumped seaweed against his toes. He’s more than content to wait, would always be content to wait if it meant Romano pressing himself into the space at Spain’s side, frown on his lips like he’s shy, wary.

Romano shoots him a look—I mean it, bastard!—but Spain only rests his chin on his arms, watching with slowly blinking eyes and a smile he is sure is horrifically besotted.

Romano doesn’t look at him when he plays, head tilted down so his hair falls across his forehead, curling around his eyebrows and the rounds of his ears. Spain bites back the urge to brush it away, and when Romano begins to hum, the softest accompaniment to a tune Spain has never heard, Spain can feel his heartbeat in the palms of his hands, in the urge to mold himself against Romano’s back, to be close and close and close.

Still, he does not move, waiting until Romano’s fingers pluck the final string, mumbling hums and soft breaths petering out until the only noise left is the swell of the ocean and the rustle of air through grains of sand and surf.

Spain blinks—once, twice—and Romano clears his throat, forefinger and thumb drawing absentminded patterns across the guitar’s body.

“I wrote it,” he says, voice low, deep, barely above a whisper. “I’ve been working on it for…fuck, I don’t know how long. A while, I guess. Mostly when I mi–”

He flushes pink, voice cutting off in a choke, and Spain sits up immediately, thinks he knows, and his delight is immeasurable, second only to grand, enamored infatuation.

“When you what?” he asks, because how can he not when Romano is looking like that, like he’s already cursing himself for speaking, as if Spain wouldn’t lay himself and his heart and his soul bare just to find the words humanity hasn’t created yet.

“Forget it.” Romano is scowling, bristling in that way he gets when he speaks before thinking, when Spain is close enough to hear him—when he’s paying attention—and Spain couldn’t forget this if he was given a millennium, if he was given an eternity and longer.

“When you what?” he asks again, because he has to, has to, would be a fool not to, would die, maybe, if he doesn’t. “When you…miss me?”

Romano shoots him a look so blistering and venomous that Spain knows he’s right, knows immediately and without question he’s right, and his hand is around Romano’s wrist before Romano even has the chance to stand, to run, because of course he’d run, and Spain can’t bear the weight of solitude right now, anyway.

“You wrote a song for me.”

Romano splutters, snarls. “It is not– I didn’t fucking write it for you!”

Spain could kiss him, wants to, wants to. “I can’t believe you wrote a song for me!”

“Are you even listening to me? I just said I didn’t–”

He’s red, so red, every shade the most beautiful color Spain has ever seen, and he can’t find it within himself to temper the need to touch, to be close and closer still, to kiss, fingers following the curve of ocean-misted waves caught on dark eyelashes, tangling in knots around his knuckles.

“My song,” he insists, lips light as they brush the warm of Romano’s mouth.

“Not what I sai–”

Spain swallows the words he knows are only half-hearted, can feel the truth in the press of the guitar into his sternum, in the hand fisted in his shirt, in the lips humming against his.

[lghtyear]

tapping the dead chat. if i came back on a single muse blog, which of my muses would you rather see?

[ithidunes]

[ihrttherain]

me when im reading solitaire and realise ill never find a bond like tori and michael where they understand each other to such a deep level that it feels like they were fated to be together.

[mars-the-marsmallow]

Here’s a post to get to know about me.

I’ll start with my name:Mars

My age:???

My height:???

My Gender Identity:???

My favorite game:???

This is where I live now: USA

And this is where I’m from:USA

Here’s what I do for work: school (I’m a minor)

And what I hope to become: Animator

Here’s a guilty pleasure: drawing in class

And a pet peeve: slow walkers

And something I like: music (mainly indie rock)

A goal that I hope one day to achieve: become an animator

Can I ride a bike: Yes

My favorite place I have been too: France

And a place I wanna go:???

My favorite time of year: summer

And my favorite tv show: heartstopper

Here’s a random fact you might not guess: I have read radio silence 17 times.

A thing that brings me joy: drawing

And brings me stress: school ( I can’t really avoid that)

I have this many siblings: 0

That’s the size of my shoes:???

And please don’t use this post to let anybody get to know you.

[nartml]

Sasuke x reader is probably the most foul thing I've ever come across on the sasuke tag and that's saying something

[darkacademiaarchivist]

forever winter by taylor swift is sooooo aled and frances coded in this essay I will...

[all-too-unwell-13]

theme change again because i got bored :)

[memser]

they should let me make merchandise

[jisungsradio]

screaming crying throwing up

[aohendo]

Ended up having to completely skip a key conversation in Prince for Hire because it just. wasn’t. going. but hey, that’s what second drafts are for. On the bright-side, the scene directly after, between Iiriok and Kiris, is very nearly writing itself!

A snippet of the lighthearted stuff before their conversation takes a more serious turn:

“I mean—” Kiris tugged at his hair. Why was phrasing this so hard? “We didn’t--”

“I don’t mean to judge, Yphant,” Nelovskevouk said, “but this is really none of my business.”

“No!” Kiris pinched the bridge of his nose. “It isn’t what you think, I just can’t use my words right now because I’ve been up all night—”

“Good for you.”

“—and apparently Batar and I have a ‘wander the fortress’ time which is coincident and she decided to make tea and nothing happened, alright? Whatever you’re thinking, it was way more violent, distressing, and did not, in any way, shape, or form, involve anything like that. She had me pinned to the floor!”

“Admittedly,” Nelovskevouk said, slowly, “violent, distressing, and pinned to the floor is exactly what I was imagining.”