#you can SEE that they're truly in love now

[egalitarian-tomboy]

Sonic, Amy, and the Koco Lovers

In Frontiers, Amy gets Sonic to help her give the Koco closure so they can move on from their haunted shells. One quest in particular revolves around reuniting a Koco with her lover before it's too late. Since they were too shy in life to confess, they might have a chance at being together in the next life.

Immediately this situation reminds the Sonamy fans who've been here from the beginning about the infamous Q&A magazine section where Team Sonic says & I Quote: "Although Sonic is clearly interested in her, Sonic has always been too shy to declare his feelings."

(Image not mine, but it's the highest quality I've found thus far.)

What a coincidence that Sonic and Amy would be helping a haunted love story find its rightful conclusion that so similarly mirrors their own. With Sonic in the past literally running away from Amy's advancements yet undeniably harboring the same feelings for her as she does for him. His pride and private personality often conflicting with his true thoughts about romantic love. We all know how Amy loves Sonic unconditionally and how over time her love transformed from being a girlhood crush to being a mature love.

Amy is far from being shy, but the Koco Lovers' predicament seems like a callout for Sonic about his relationship with Amy being stuck in a romantic limbo. Constantly teetering between friendship and true commitment.

When Sonic tries to get Amy to leave the Koco alone to figure out things on their own, while literally gesturing to the Koco trying to find her lost lover, Amy yells at him that they have to see it through. When she asks if he would leave behind someone in need, when one of the many reasons why she loves him is because he will help those in need, he says no BUT he's also worried about her. All the while gazing at her like THIS:

This is by far the most vulnerable we've ever seen him with Amy in the entire series. BY FAR. He's not the type of guy to give up on anyone who needs help, but he's so worried about her and the fact that she's stuck in a digital limbo that he hasn't made any progress in getting her out of yet. She's so focused on helping others that Sonic reminds her that she can't truly help anyone in her current state. After thinking on his words she agrees and tells him to hurry up and rescue her so that way they can find Tails. He grins and tells her it sounds simple enough.

Little did they know they were about to unknowingly see the heartbreaking reuniting between the ghost shelled lovers. They're given a flashback to the moment when they reunited on the field of a warzone. The romantic surrounding of flowers their final resting spot as they share their first and last embrace. Amy doesn't understand what's going on and thinks it's happening in real time and Sonic has to hold her back from possibly getting hurt herself. When the flashback is over Amy rushes to where the Koco rushed to meet her lover for them to find the ghost shells together at last for their proper rest.

Sonic turns his attention to Amy as she sinks to her knees and softly laments that they were reunited right before their death. Knowing how too close to home this situation was for her, he gazed in silence for a moment thinking about what he's going to say before reassuring her that they were together now. He lets her grieve for a moment while he explores the area around them to look for more clues. But you can clearly tell that the flashback had an emotional impact on him as well.

When he comes back to check up on her, she tells him that they witnessed a love that transcended time and that she knew she wanted to share that love story with the world. Even though it may take them far apart.

*SCREECHING CAR BREAK*

She's no longer talking about the Koco lovers. She's talking about THEM. AS IN HER AND SONIC.

She's telling Sonic that she knows what she wants to do after everything is over and how they might not see each other again for some time until she returns. Who knows where she'll go or how long she'll be gone for. But she wants to journey by herself or with a small group to tell others about the power of this love story she witnessed. When she comes to that painful conclusion she's conflicted and grieved.

That is, until Sonic kneels down and looks at her like this:

And tells her he knows she'll do great and that he wants to hear all about it when she comes back. Smiling at her and giving her a nod when she gazes back up into his eyes.

I DON'T THINK YOU GET IT: AMY BASICALLY SAID "I WANT TO LEAVE TO SHARE THIS LOVE STORY BUT WE WON'T BE TOGETHER AND THAT SCARES ME." AND SONIC'S RESPONSE WAS "NO MATTER HOW FAR APART WE ARE OR HOW LONG YOU'RE GONE - I'LL BE WAITING FOR YOU & I WANT TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR ADVENTURE WHEN YOU GET BACK."

Along with Amy's desire to share the Koco Lovers' story, there's a silent question within her declaration. Unlike in the past where she openly and proudly proclaimed herself to be Sonic's Girlfriend to everyone around her and how he was hers like some kind of trophy, When she says "It may take us far apart." she's asking him if he loves her the same way. Not as a friend but as a Lover.

Now in the rare trigger lines that you can find within the game, there's a moment where Sonic says "Amy...I should've made up my mind sooner." implying his conflicted thoughts about confessing his feelings for her and keeping his "Free as the Wind" lifestyle. But after everything that happened, I believe that he was finally ready to give her a real response.

Which was: "I know you'll do great. I want to hear all about it when you come back."

With the silent answer to her silent question about if he loves her too being: "I do and I'll be waiting for you to return to me."

Which is why you see her eyes grow wide at his response. Because he didn't joke his way out of it or tell her she was talking crazy about calling them lovers. He accepted her, truly accepted her at long last and was ready to give her his heart fully.

It really puts into perspective that Amy's memory tokens were literal HEARTS and the final quest before the big showdown was the Koco lovers.

Sonic's first "Trial" was love. His reward for completing that trial was finally moving forward in his relationship with Amy.

[iamquiantrelle]

VIRGIN TERRITORY (chapter 7) ────── iamquaintrelle

# pairing: aurelien tchouameni x black oc (☔️✨💕) #wc: 4.1k

# tags: @whoevenisthiz @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @sucredreamer @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @rougereds @jessnotwiththemess @judectrl @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbriii @sailurmewn @rainbowsparkelsunshine @lbchi @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes @mufasathatniggatho @kaylalb

# summary: she's been his pa for almost a year and every day is a struggle to function around him, but he'll never see her more than that...will he? and what will happen if he finds out she's also a virgin? masterlist.

The Bernabéu is buzzing with its usual electric energy, but Leila's mind is somewhere else entirely. Carlo's got Aurélien playing as 14 again even though everyone and their mama knows he's better at midfielder, and her phone keeps lighting up with messages from William.

Things with Will are better now – easier somehow since their honest conversation. He's back to sending her memes that make her laugh, pictures of his day-to-day life in London, even some truly terrible dad jokes that shouldn't be as funny as they are. It's nice. Normal. Like they've found some kind of balance.

Except.

Except Aurélien's been taking her on dates every night this week, each one more thoughtful than the last. No more riddles, but plenty of moments that make her heart forget how to beat properly. The 'A' pendant catches the stadium lights when she shifts, a constant reminder of... something. Not quite a claim, but definitely a statement.

She touches it absently as Aurélien makes a run down the field. He's been wearing his heart on his sleeve lately – bringing her coffee before she can make it, leaving little notes in her planner, finding reasons to touch her when no one's looking.

Her phone buzzes again:

Will: Tell Aurél trying to play 14 is criminal

Will: Man's wasted there and Carlo knows it

She smiles despite herself because he's not wrong. But then Aurélien glances up at where she's sitting, that soft smile he reserves just for her making her chest tight, and...

And maybe some choices make themselves.

The final whislte blew, and the 1-3 scoreline feels heavy in the air as Leila watches Aurélien trudge off the pitch. She's already drafting notes about temporarily blocking Divisé Media – the "fans" on there are going to be brutal, and she's seen enough racism in La Liga to know exactly what's coming.

It wasn't even his worst performance, nowhere near it. But he wasn't the Aurélien she knows he can be, wasn't hitting that level that makes other teams fear him, and these so-called Madridistas will use any excuse to spew their hate. They don't care that he's got a whole media room in his house dedicated to Real Madrid history. Don't care about the way his eyes light up talking about the club's legacy, or how he studies old matches like they're sacred texts.

The racist comments are already starting to flood in – she can see them on the monitors in the press room. The same tired stereotypes, the same ignorant takes, the same bullshit rumors about transfers like they're trying to push him out. As if he hasn't bled white since day one.

"You okay?" Jude asks as she aggressively types out social media blocking instructions.

"These fans..." she shakes her head, anger making her fingers tight on her tablet. "They don't deserve him."

"They don't deserve any of us," he says quietly. "But especially not him. Not when he loves this club like he does."

She thinks about the vintage Real Madrid posters in his media room, the way he touches the crest before every match like it's a blessing, how he studies Carlo's tactics like they're gospel.

Her phone buzzes – PR wanting to know how to handle the growing online abuse. Like there's any handling it. Like they haven't been fighting this same battle since forever.

But she knows one thing: she's not letting him near social media tonight.

Not when he's already beating himself up enough.

Not when these "fans" don't understand what real loyalty looks like.

Leila's waiting outside the locker room, already having sent emails to their social team about monitoring comments, when Aurélien finally emerges. His shoulders are carrying the weight of the loss, and she can see he's already in his head about it.

"Don't," she says before he can speak. "Give me your phone."

"Ma puce–"

"Phone. Now."

He hands it over without argument, which tells her exactly how bad he's feeling. Normally he'd at least pretend to fight her on it.

"It wasn't that bad," she tries, but he just gives her a look.

"I played like shit."

"You played out of position."

"I played like I forgot what football was." His voice is tight with frustration. "Did you see the comments yet?"

"No, and neither will you." She's already changing his social media passwords. "Not tonight."

"They're right though–"

"If you finish that sentence, I swear to God..." She steps in front of him, making him look at her. "You love this club more than anyone I know. One bad game doesn't change that."

His eyes find the 'A' pendant at her throat, something softening in his expression. "You're too good to me."

"No, I just know your worth." She reaches up to straighten his collar, a habit she can't break. "Unlike these keyboard warriors who've probably never touched a football in their lives."

A ghost of a smile crosses his face. "Take me home?"

The way he says it – soft, vulnerable – makes her heart squeeze. "Of course. But first..."

She pulls out the protein shake she made earlier, the one with extra everything because she knew he'd need it.

"What would I do without you?" he murmurs, taking the bottle.

"Let's not find out."

Because these "fans" might not deserve him, but she's starting to think she might.

******************************************************

The drive to his house is quiet, Madrid streets emptier than usual like even the city knows to give him space. Leila's behind the wheel because he's too in his head to drive, his fingers absently playing with the pendant she's wearing. Every now and then his phone lights up with notifications she's glad he can't see.

"Want me to make you something?" she asks as they pull into his driveway. "Your mama's chicken soup recipe?"

He shakes his head but his hand finds hers across the console. "Just… stay? For a bit?"

The vulnerability in his voice makes her chest tight. This is a different Aurélien from the one who's been romancing her all week – no smooth lines or careful plans, just raw need for comfort.

Inside, Ocho greets them with his usual enthusiasm, picking up on his dad's mood and pressing close. They end up on the couch, Aurélien's head in her lap while she runs her fingers through his curls. She can feel the tension slowly leaving his body.

"The next match-" he starts, but she cuts him off.

"Is not tonight's problem." Her nails scratch his scalp gently. "Tonight we rest."

"We?"

"Yes, we." She tries not to think too hard about how natural this feels. "Someone has to make sure you actually sleep instead of watching match footage all night."

His laugh is quiet but real. "Taking care of me, ma puce?"

"Always."

The word slips out before she can catch it, heavy with meaning neither of them is quite ready to address. His hand finds hers again, bringing it to his lips.

"Thank you," he murmurs against her skin.

And maybe some choices really do make themselves.

They stay like that for a while, Ocho curled at their feet, the city lights casting soft shadows through his ridiculous windows. She's still running her fingers through his curls when his breathing starts to even out, the stress of the match finally catching up to him.

"We should get you to bed," she says softly.

"Stay," he mumbles, already half asleep. "Please."

And lord, the way he says it – all vulnerability and trust – makes something in her chest squeeze tight.

"Aurélien…"

"Just to sleep." His eyes open, finding hers. "I'll behave."

She should say no. Should maintain some kind of professional boundaries. Should remember she's technically still keeping her options open even though her heart's pretty much made its choice.

"I don't have clothes," she tries weakly.

"Top drawer. My t-shirts." His thumb traces patterns on her wrist. "Unless you're scared?"

"Of what?"

"Of admitting this is more than just dates and gifts."

The way he says it – direct but gentle – makes her pause. Because he's right. This stopped being just anything a while ago.

"One condition," she finally says.

"Anything."

"No match analysis until morning."

His smile is soft, real. "Deal."

They make their way upstairs, Ocho trailing behind them like he's supervising. She pauses at his bedroom door, a thought suddenly hitting her.

"These better be new sheets." At his raised eyebrow, she clarifies, "You know, because of..." she waves her hand vaguely, "all your visitors."

His laugh is unexpected. "It's a new bed, actually. New everything."

"What happened to the old one?"

"Got rid of it." He runs a hand through his curls, almost shy. "When you were in Georgia. Wanted... a fresh start."

Oh.

Oh.

"You got a whole new bed?"

"And sheets." He steps closer, fingers finding the 'A' at her throat. "I told you I was serious."

And really, what is she supposed to say to that? To this man who's apparently out here buying new furniture just to prove a point?

"Top drawer?" she manages, and his smile is soft with understanding.

"Top drawer."

And maybe this should feel weird – changing into his Madrid training shirt that smells like him, climbing into his ridiculous bed after taking the world's fastest shower. Maybe she should feel nervous when he slides in next to her, all warm skin and easy smiles.

But instead it just feels… right.

Even if she's not ready to admit why.

Not yet.

Dreams hit different when they become reality. Leila's been imagining what it would feel like to wake up in Aurélien's arms for months now, but her imagination didn't do this justice. He's got her in what's basically a headlock, one arm under her neck while the other's wrapped around her waist, but she's never felt more comfortable in her life.

His training shirt's ridden up during the night, leaving her stomach exposed to where his fingers are splayed across her skin. The heat of his touch makes her whole body warm, especially with how his basketball shorts are barely containing her curves. She should probably feel self-conscious about that, about how much of her is pressed against him, but there's something too perfect about this moment for insecurity.

Every breath he takes moves through her too, his chest pressed against her back like he's trying to eliminate any space between them. His face is buried in her neck, those curls she loves tickling her skin, and she can feel the steady thump of his heart.

This is dangerous.

This kind of comfort, this kind of intimacy – it makes her want things she's not sure she's ready for. Makes her think about mornings like this stretching into forever. Makes her forget about keeping options open or playing it safe.

His fingers flex against her skin and she knows he's waking up. Knows she should probably try to put some distance between them, try to maintain some kind of boundaries.

Instead, she finds herself melting further into his embrace.

Some choices really do make themselves.

Even at seven in the morning.

"You think too loud," his voice rumbles against her neck, still rough with sleep. Instead of loosening his hold, he somehow pulls her closer.

"I'm not thinking," she lies, very aware of how his thumb is now drawing lazy circles on her stomach.

"Mhm." His lips find that spot behind her ear that makes her toes curl. "So you weren't just having a whole internal crisis about this feeling too good?"

"How did you-"

"Because I know you, ma puce." He presses a kiss to her shoulder. "Know how your brain works. Always analyzing, always worried about what comes next."

She should probably be offended that he reads her so well, but it's hard to focus when his hand is sliding higher under her (his) shirt, fingers tracing her ribs like he's mapping territory.

"Aurélien…"

"Just feel," he murmurs. "Stop thinking about William, about boundaries, about what this means. Just be here with me."

The fact that he knows exactly what's running through her head should probably scare her. Instead, it just makes something in her chest warm.

"I need to get up," she tries. "Make your protein shake, check your schedule-"

"Five more minutes." His lips are doing devastating things to her neck. "The world can wait."

And really, how is she supposed to argue with that?

Especially when he's right – the world can wait. This moment can't.

He turns her in his arms, and any thoughts of protein shakes or schedules evaporate when his mouth finds hers. This kiss is different from their others – maybe because of the intimacy of morning, maybe because of how his hands feel on her bare skin, maybe because she's wanted this for so long she's forgotten how to want anything else.

The sound he makes when she tugs his curls experimentally – somewhere between a groan and her name – shoots straight through her. His response is to trail kisses down her neck, finding spots she didn't even know were sensitive until his lips discovered them.

When he hits a particular spot under her jaw, she can't help the moan that escapes. She feels his smile against her skin before he returns to that spot with more purpose, like he's cataloging her reactions for future reference.

Her inexperienced self is definitely not prepared for how this feels, for the way his hands span her waist, for how natural it feels to arch into his touch-

And then Ocho barks.

Of course he does.

Aurélien pulls back with a muttered curse, but Leila sends up a silent prayer of thanks because if they'd kept going… she was about five seconds from making some questionable decisions.

"Putain," he sucks his teeth, forehead pressed against hers. "I'm gonna let him out real quick. Don't move."

The command in his voice makes her shiver, but she also needs this moment to remember how to breathe properly.

Some interruptions are blessings in disguise.

As soon as Aurélien disappears with Ocho, Leila's up and in his bathroom, splashing cold water on her face like it might help her racing thoughts. The mirror shows her exactly what she feared – swollen lips, marks forming on her neck, hair a mess from his hands.

"Get it together," she mutters to her reflection, fanning her heated face. Her body's still humming from his touch, wanting things her mind isn't quite ready for.

This is what she's wanted – being with him, waking up in his arms, feeling his kisses. But that next step? Giving him something she's never given anyone? It feels huge, especially when things aren't completely settled.

She needs to talk to William properly. Needs to make things official with Aurélien before she even thinks about taking that step. Needs to-

"I thought I said not to move?"

His voice in the doorway makes her jump. He's leaning against the frame looking entirely too good for this early, eyes dark as they track over her appearance – his shirt riding up her thighs, her kiss-bruised lips, the way she's clearly trying to calm herself down.

"I needed a minute," she manages, gripping the counter behind her.

"To overthink?" He steps into the bathroom, and suddenly the space feels much smaller. "To talk yourself out of this?"

"Aurélien..."

"Tell me what you're afraid of." His voice goes soft as he stops in front of her. "Is it me?"

"No," she says quickly, because that's one thing she's sure of. "It's... I've never..."

The change in his expression is immediate – something dark and possessive flooding his features as understanding hits. His pupils dilate, jaw clenching like he's physically restraining himself.

"You've never been with anyone."

It's not a question, but she nods anyway, heat flooding her cheeks. She watches his throat work as he swallows, notices how his fingers flex at his sides.

Lord. She thought he was possessive before, but the way he's looking at her now? Like she's something precious and tempting all at once? She might have just created a monster.

"Ma puce," his voice is rougher now, deeper. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

"But you're used to-"

"I'm used to nothing that matters." His hand cups her face, thumb tracing her bottom lip with new purpose. "This? Us? Being your first?" His eyes are almost black now. "That matters."

"I need to talk to William first," she admits. "Need to make things... clear."

"I know." He presses his forehead to hers, but there's something different in his touch now – more controlled, like he's holding himself back. "And we need to do this right. No rushing."

The relief that floods through her is immediate. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." His smile is soft but his eyes still hold that new darkness. "Though you might need to stop looking at me like that if you want me to behave."

"Like what?"

"Like you want to kiss me again. Because knowing what I know now?" He exhales sharply. "My control only goes so far."

She slips past him, very aware of how his eyes follow her movement with new intensity. At the door she pauses, looking back at him.

"Aurélien?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

His smile is everything, but there's something predatory in it now. Something that says when she's ready, when she's his, nothing will hold him back.

She's definitely created a monster.

But maybe that's not such a bad thing.

******************************************************

Making breakfast feels different with Aurélien watching her every move like she's prey. He's sitting at the kitchen island, coffee untouched, eyes tracking her as she moves around his kitchen in his clothes.

"You're staring," she says finally, cracking eggs into a bowl.

"Can't help it." His voice still holds that new edge. "Thinking about how no one's touched you. How no one's seen you like I have."

The eggs nearly slip from her hands. "Aurélien…"

"Tell me something," he leans forward, elbows on the counter. "How has no one…?"

"It just never happened." She focuses very intently on whisking. "Never felt right."

"And now?"

The question hangs heavy between them. She pours the eggs into the pan, finally meeting his gaze.

"Now feels… different. But also scary."

"Why scary?"

"Because you're…" she gestures vaguely at him, "you. With all your experience and models and-"

"Stop." He's around the counter before she can blink, caging her against it. "None of that matters. What matters is that when you're ready, when you're mine properly…" His fingers trace her jaw. "I'll make it perfect for you."

Her heart's definitely trying to escape her chest. "That's kind of the scary part."

"What is?"

"How much I want it to be you." She swallows hard. "But also… I'm not built like the girls you usually date."

His brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Aurélien." She gestures at herself, at how his shorts are stretched across her hips. "I'm not exactly model size. And when people find out about us…" She trails off, thinking about the headlines, the social media comments, the inevitable comparisons.

"Look at me." His voice is firm. "You really think I care about that?"

"The media will."

"Fuck the media." His hands find her waist, spanning it possessively. "You're exactly my type. Always have been."

"But-"

"No buts." He pulls her closer. "You think I haven't noticed every curve? Haven't thought about how perfect you'd feel under me? How much I want to-"

"The eggs are burning," she cuts him off, face flaming.

He lets her turn back to the stove but stays pressed against her back. "We're not done talking about this."

"About my virginity or my insecurities?"

"Both." His lips find her neck. "Because clearly you don't see what I see."

"And what's that?"

"Perfection." His hands slide down to her hips. "Curves that drive me crazy. Intelligence that challenges me. And the fact that no one's touched you?" His grip tightens, the sound he makes is almost primitive. "Makes me want to show you exactly how perfect you are."

"Aurélien…"

"When you're ready," he promises. "When everything's settled. When you're officially mine."

The possessiveness in his voice should probably worry her. Instead, it makes her feel… safe? Wanted?

"The eggs are definitely burning now."

His laugh is warm against her skin. "Let them. We'll order in."

"You have training-"

"We have time."

And maybe that's what she needed to hear.

That he wants all of her – curves, inexperience, insecurities and all.

His breath is hot against her ear as he pulls her back against his chest, voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes her knees weak.

"Let me tell you how this is going to go," he murmurs, one hand splayed across her stomach. "The first time? I'll be gentle. Take care of you properly." She can barely breathe, especially when his lips brush her ear with his next words: "But after that? You'll never ache for another dick besides mine."

The crude promise sends heat straight through her. Before she can process it, he's straightening up, moving away from her, and licking his lips in a way that should be illegal in at least twelve countries.

"We need to stop by your apartment before training." His eyes are dark with promise. "Get you proper clothes."

And then – lord have mercy – he actually smacks her ass before turning off the stove and heading upstairs to get dressed, leaving her gripping the counter for support.

Her virgin self is definitely not equipped for this new possessive Aurélien.

The Ethiopian pop-up restaurant is exactly the kind of place William would've taken Leila – all warm ambiance and cultural significance. But tonight he's here with Kemi, the journalist he met some weeks ago, and something about it feels… right.

He'd found her card while cleaning out his wallet, remembered how easy their conversation had flowed that day. The text was casual: Heard about this Ethiopian spot. Thought you might want to check it out?

Her response was quick but measured: As friends?

And honestly? That's exactly what he needs right now. Because yeah, he likes Leila – how could he not? But he's not blind. He sees how she looks at Aurélien, recognizes a battle that was lost before it began.

The restaurant itself is a masterpiece of pop-up ingenuity. Traditional mesobs dot the space, these intricately woven tables that make sharing food intimate but casual. The aroma of berbere and fresh coffee fills the air.

"Have you had Ethiopian before?" Kemi asks as they settle at their mesob.

"A few times in London. You?"

"My best friend is Ethiopian. Her mama practically raised me on doro wat." She smiles at his impressed look. "What? Surprised a journalist knows her food?"

"Surprised you're not taking notes for an article."

Her laugh is warm, genuine. "Not everything is a story, William."

The way she says his name – not Wilo, not Saliba – feels refreshing.

Their server brings out a spread that makes his nutritionist's stress levels spike from miles away: doro wat rich with complex spices, tender kitfo that melts on the tongue, various wots arranged like art on fresh injera bread.

"The trick," Kemi demonstrates, tearing off a piece of injera, "is to get the perfect ratio of bread to sauce."

She's right – the flavors explode when balanced properly. It's the kind of food that demands presence, attention.

"You know," she says as they share another piece of injera, "it's okay to take time."

"Time?"

"To heal. To move forward." Her eyes are knowing. "To let go."

And maybe that's what this is – not letting go of Leila exactly, but of the idea of her. Of what could have been if timing and hearts had aligned differently.

"You're pretty wise for a journalist," he teases.

"And you're pretty honest for a footballer." She wipes her fingers delicately. "Most would pretend they're fine."

"Are we having a therapy session over Ethiopian food?"

"Maybe." Her smile is gentle. "Or maybe I just recognize someone who needs a friend."

The server brings more injera, and they fall into easy conversation about everything and nothing – his childhood in France, her dreams of writing a novel, their shared love of art house films that make their friends fall asleep.

"This is nice," he says finally. "Just… this."

"Being friends?"

"Being real."

She nods, understanding. "No pressure to be anything else."

"Exactly."

They finish the meal with traditional coffee. Something in his chest has loosened, like he can breathe properly again.

"Thank you," he says as they walk out into the London night.

"For what?"

"For making it easy. To just… be."

Her smile is worth everything. "That's what friends are for."

He'll always care about Leila, but maybe it's time to care about his own heart too.

Starting with friendship. The rest can wait.

Sometimes the best endings are really beginnings in disguise.

...................tbd

[meirimerens]

do you happen to have any headcanons about pascal curious and nervous subject? or any other sims 2 character for that matter :p

you get answered with anon from like yesterday #oops i had stuff on my plate teehee but Yes.

the nervous subject:

as far as nervous' #deal is i like to go with the Sims 2 For PSP lore that he willingly (or "willingly" - in quotes to express the murkiness of willingness when you're broke as shit) went in with the Beakers because he needed coin. in my head, like many kids who age out of the foster care system, he found himself age 18 not really having anywhere to go (no contact with the family during his stay in foster care), not really having had the best environment to learn any skill, he tells himself well fml 🤷‍♂️ might as well.

related to his 10 active point i think he's strong as shit. does not look like it (macdonalds_napkin_flying_out_of_window.txt). also very endurant - not necessarily fast, but his ass would smoke everyone in a long-distance run because he can just keep going. this is Not A Great Thing in his current #predicament because that just means he recuperates pretty fast from the experiments and so they just keep happening with little downtime.

bruises easily. and a lot because his prioperception is kind of fried so he's got always a blue spot somewhere.

i've #made #him in my ts4 game with a crooked nose and nose scar (which i draw, the crookedness of the nose translates a bit less since i'm always drawing his ass three-quartered) and those i think he got in foster care. even if he exists with 0 nice point i think that's an Experiment thing, he is not truly a Dipshit, but he's very early become quite rowdy. got into a tussle. got his nose broken. "you should see the other guy". this is also very funny to me because one of my OC has that same broken nose+scar deal

on the topic of My OC Has This in my mind's eye he's got tha Y-shaped autopsy scar. hector I Would Like To Award You the Highest Honor I Can Bestow [scars like the weird lesbians of my mind] did not really die, still has it. he understands that's probably a Scary thing for people to see + his ass doesn nawwwt want to deal with the question so when his best fwiend and his two Unsuspecting brothers try to get him to join for a relaxing heatwave afternoon in the strangetown pool he's like "i don't want to take my shirt off [THINKS FAST] because i'm insecure about being bony" and they're like "that's fine man no pressure 👍" [clueless]

le pascal curieux:

on one hand the phrase "gayscal bicurious" i had in the tags of my art once makes me hysterical and i genuinely leep fucking repeating it out loud to myself so often. devilish echolalic sound. on the other it is genuinely funny to me to imagine him realizing years later "why the fuck do i have beef with this guy over his gf i don't even like women 😐😐😐😐🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️". he keeps the beef though makes him feel alive #hatermindset #scorpio

after nervous told him "i have some... weird... living arrangement... and my roommates don't like to hear me play music out loud" pascal started putting songs he thinks nervous would like on an mp3 player. nervous gives it back to him every once in a while and update him on his taste so pascal can add more songs next time they see each other.

now not to get too deep into the politics of the sims franchise's mpreg. a pregnancy narrative hates to see me coming. but in my head... while he's a loving father and is protective and kind and genuinely obsessed with his kid once they're born & tutti quanti towards his little scrunkly... i think he lived the pregnancy pretty Lukewarmly. he knew that it Could happen, but well. the household description does mention "[getting] more than they were "expecting."". i think until halfway there he was like 😬 and then the Weird Scientist Brain kicked in and he was like "this is an Experience". pascal curious I Would Like To Award You the Highest Honor I Can Bestow. Post-Partum Depression (jesting. unless?)

not new of a headcanon because i've drawn it so it's probably obvious I think he's the shortest of the brothers and a Reliable Resident of Stockytown #shawty

bringing together Buddy Erwin Lore and "In his free time, he practices home psychoanalysis" i know the inhabitants of strangerville hate to see him hang out by erwin's Listening Station and psychoanalyzing every word that comes out of the mouth of the people he's bugged #nosy

erwin detour because i have this to say:

he drives a two-toned (orange and white) 1980 chevy k30 crew cab. a beat-up thing that he loves so muchhhh. looks like this (but imagine Oinge and not tan/camel)

speaking of cars i have something for Lazlo:

drives a 1986-1988 buick riviera. a purble one. exactly. i see it for him for the little screen inside #vintage #slay

stoner. with peace and love and zero derogatory tone. he feels it makes him think. it does. tbh i see the three dabbling. you're telling me vidcund has this beautiful greenhouse and they don't grow cannabis in there? you know that post that's like. my homie was making edibles and discovered passion for baking now he's a baker. this did not happen to lazlo he knew how to cook and bake completely independantly. but it helps. they let nervous smoke with them and they see him blink normally for the first time.

Ophelia Nigmos my shayla....

she has a Motorola RAZR V3 for phone. it is DECKED to the heavens with stickers and stick-on gems and phone charms

2004 is prime and i mean primeeee pop-punk/emo era (hence why she looks #likethat tbh) and she's deeeep in that. like Simple Plan's "I'm Just A Kid" came out 2002 and i knowwww she's having that shit on LOOP on her mp3 player. due to the fact that She's Just A Kid And Her Life Is A Nightmare

the bloggerrrr i know she is blogging. idk what strangetown could have as a mirror to the 2000s-2010s french "Skyblog" [les vrais connaissent tmtc] but girl... is.... BLOGGING!!!! either a Livejournal or a Blogger.

i just realized how long this poast was #oops but Basically Yes.

[d34dlysinner]

Rejection angst: Andrealphus, Zagan, Foras

Decided to just do these three (since someone gave me these three names to work with so yuh) Andrealphus stood in shock as he let the words that you just spoke sink in. "I... ", he muttered as he started to feel an unfamiliar sadness wash over him. You looked at him in worry as he didn't speak nor react at all. "Andrealphus?", you asked. Your voice ringed in his head. How much he loved to hear your voice. How much he wanted to wake up and come back to that voice that somehow calmed him. "I'm okay.", he said as he gave you a faint smile. "I understand.", he continued. He gave the present he got for you and patted your head as if he wanted to show that he truly was fine. He was fine with your choice. Truly, he wanted you to be happy no matter what. He just hoped it would've been him. He just hoped that it would be you who would like to be a little family with him. He supposed that his dream had to wait a little longer. "I truly wish you happiness.", he said. "Are you fine, Andrealphus-", you wanted to atleast reassure him that he'll be okay, but instead he replied with: "I'm not at this moment... But I'll be okay in the end. I always do." Zagan was speechless. Not that he said much, but this time it truly was him not being able to reply no matter what. He just nodded and handed you the flowers he just bought. Not an emotion on his face present. That's when he opened his mouth and said: "I feel hurt, but... I also know I could never force you to like me when you don't." His deep soft voice broke the silence as you nodded at his words. "I am happy for you. I hope you will be happy for a long time.", he continued. Taking out a few talisman he prepared. "I made these, incase you said, yes. They're just for celebrating, but I do want you to use them with your lover.", he ended his words as he saw no use in keeping those. He bows before guiding you back to the palace where you're safe. Leaving soon after to think by himself. Foras dropped whatever was in his hands. "What?... Who?... How?... When?" He truly wanted to be supportive, but his emotions were taking over. He knows envy too well and at this moment he wanted to do nothing more than just keep you near him to not see your lover again. "Did... I... I'm sorry, I need to go.", he said. He didn't want to show you an ugly side of him. He isn't ashamed of his envy. He never would be, but he didn't want to scare you too. Even now, when he's trying to suppress his emotions, he's still thinking of you. Foras needed to stop himself trying to search whoever it was that managed to capture your heart before he did. He needed time to cry, think, and practice a text so he could talk to you more appropriately. When he talked to you again, three days after the news, he just said what he practiced ending it with: "I... I understand your feelings. Sadly, if I can be honest, I don't think I'll easily be able to get over you... I hope you can forgive me for my actions.", he said as he bowed slightly. You reassured him that you were fine with him. You even expected this sort of reaction from atleast someone in Hades. Foras tried to move away from your touch as you were about to pat him as comfort. But his body couldn't refuse a few more moments with you. "I think you should stop being nice to me for now... I might love you even more and I don't think I'll be able to handle that.", he said as he took a reluctant step back. "I wish you well, MC..."

[softlypaintedseafoam]

i'm not a human, i'm a dove

synopsis. a love so tender; a touch so smooth.

pairing. getou suguru x reader

word count. 1k | masterlist

content warning. canon-divergent (suguru is the normal amount of jujutsu crazy), established relationship, vague mentions of past child abuse (nanako & mimiko's past), fluff

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

a gift for my friend @rinsko! title comes i would die 4 u by prince & the revolutions, definitely give it a listen it's a great song and i have been playing it on loop lately. do not be surprised if it makes another cameo as a fic title. this is my first time writing for suguru i think and i hope i did him justice!

It dawns on you that it's been too long since Suguru's last reply. "Are you falling asleep on me?"

Suguru hums in response to your query, clearly enjoying the sensation of your carding your fingers through his hair. The morning is still young; the light of early dawn peeking through the blinds as if to say 'good morning, it's time to wake up!' "I'm awake," he murmurs against your chest, eyes closed and in no rush to greet the day. "I'm just painting a representation of your words in my mind."

Your smile is crooked as you take in his words, "oh really now." Another affirmative hum is his reply and you see the beginnings of a smile forming on his face. "And what kind of painting did you conjure up then?"

You halt your ministrations and Suguru opens one eye comically offended. Who said you could stop, his eyes tell you and you laugh silently before you continue the motion like you never stopped to begin with.

"Something about the girls having a more balanced breakfast," Suguru tells you proper, pleased to feel your touch again. "Don't worry, love, they'll have more than enough protein. I was painting it all clearly. Rice, eggs, fish, maybe some miso on the side…"

"I suppose you were listening," you relent, hugging Suguru closer. He returns the gesture, inhaling your scent. "You spoil them so much that I almost thought you forgot what a balanced breakfast for children was supposed to look like." Sugary cereals and bottle after bottle of syrup are near constants in your household. You giggle at the ticklish sensation of kisses being peppered across your collar bone. "You can't distract me, Suguru."

Brown eyes look at you with unbridled, playful affection, "this isn't a distraction, it's bargaining." It wouldn't be fair to suddenly present the twins with a boring breakfast, he says with dramatic regality. It's too cruel, too unjust. "And I already promised to make them pancakes this morning; you'll make me into a liar if I can't keep it."

Your lips twitch, "a liar, you say?" For someone so serious in your teen years, Suguru has an impeccable flair for theatrics. He'd have made a great actor in stage plays. Unfortunately, your lover is always quick to disagree. Denial, the first step to Acceptance. "That sounds terrible."

"Yes, it would truly be a travesty," Suguru nods, too grave and solemn for the conversation at hand. "And if it takes kissing the most beautiful and marvelous and most fantastical person in the world over and over again to allow me to fulfill that promise, I'll do anything. Anything!"

"Alright, my dear husband. You win," you snort and a warm set of lips are peck yours once, twice, before relenting. "But tomorrow I'm in charge of breakfast. No sugary cereals and no pancakes. They're going to have a healthy and delicious breakfast that isn't going to give them cavities and there won't be any bribes or bargaining."

With you swayed, Suguru gently collapses back into the mattress. Maybe the girls aren't the only ones used to being spoiled. Looking at him be sluggish yet adorable is more than enough to make you want to let him make the girls pancakes for the rest of the month. Maybe even waffles for dinner. "There can be something sweet with it, right?"

"There will be fresh fruits," you recall the blueberries, strawberries and grapes you purchased the other day. Expensive as they were, they better be sweeter than Nanako and Mimiko themselves. "And I can be kind enough to allow a reasonable amount of whipped cream. Remember the emphasis on reasonable."

Maybe there can be small allowance for a slightly more than reasonable amount. You really are one big hypocrite, you softly spurn yourself. The desire to spoil the twins comes too easy. How couldn't you when you knew the sort of lives they'd been living until recently? It was almost like something out of movie ー Suguru coming back to Jujutsu Tech on a dark and stormy night with a haggard appearance and two badly bruised kids with him.

It's one thing to be a sorcerer from a family of non-sorcerers in the big city; the boonies are different entities altogether. There's nothing to protect if there's no knowledge of it to begin with. Another flaw in the secret society sorcerers are forced to embrace; another flaw the nearly broke Suguru entirely.

("I wanted to kill them," Suguru admitted, clutching your shirt, sunken into the cold floor. "I wanted to kill all of them. For a moment I thought we weren't even the same species. This isn't how I used to think," he laughed coldly. "What's wrong with me?"

Suguru's come a long way since then. A long, long way. One day, Satoru and Suguru will pave a way for a generation that are strong enough to handle any mission. You hope you'll pave one where the children can stay far from the battlefield. Perhaps there will be a day your goals converge.)

Now that you're graduates, Nanako and Mimiko are in your personal care. It isn't always easy; the girls have their bad days. You aren't sure they'll be ready to go to a school filled with non-sorcerers after the lives they've led thus far. Still you find silver linings where they're to be found. It's a relief they get along with Tsumiki, though. Step by step, the two of them will get to a point where they can see everyone the way they do Megumi's older sister.

One day, you kiss Suguru's forehead much like one blows the seeds of a dandelion to make a wish. Things can't be fixed overnight but one day. One day is good.

The sound of small feet running down the halls and childish giggles whooping for pancakes lets you both know it's time to leave the warm confines of your blankets. "Time to greet the day," Suguru yawns, making no move to do so.

[bean-spring]

You can understand Helena's complexity, the reasons behind her actions and the inherent connection between her and Mark that is clearly there beyond questioning if she's Helly or not ("that sort of kinship carry over from innie to outie"), because at the end of the day, she is her (in different circumstances and enviornments).

But that doesn't mean that outside of the poetry and natural attraction between them there isn't the whole question of whether this is right or wrong. It isn't just "this is rape and she's inherently and utterly evil" or "they're the same person and she's also hurt, so it's okay" because that would minimize what the show is working so hard on. And that is fucking with our heads making us wonder who we truly are, what things would make us commit these actions, what truly is freedom, and at what point we stop being ourselves.

Let me make this clear (it's just my opinion): No, it wasn't consensual. Mark didn't consent to having sex with Helena. He thought it was Helly. That part is obvious to everyone. The whole "he said he doesn't care who she is outside, but he cares who she is with him, so it is consensual!" doesn't matter when he actually doesn't know who the fuck she is. He is being lied to. He said that because he thought he was talking to his Helly and didn't care who she was outside because, at the end of the day, despite being the same people, innies are practically born again (socially) and build a personality and experiences from the very beginning, from their very first memory that is appearing in the office (Dan literally refers to this point of their lives as "adolescense" while S1 was "childhood"). And they keep fighting for their rights and individual freedom.

I don't think we're giving this its proper depth, tbh. It isn't just "Helena wasn't Helly here". It's: Helena has way more knowledge than Mark has, while Mark believes they're both on the same page. Helena went there hoping for an experience in specific with him (selfishly), while for Mark it happened way more organically. Helena has said she doesn't view innies as human and has been watching them as if they were a Sims 4 gameplay. For Mark, it's Helly and the fact that their connection goes beyond that night while for Helena it's not that much about Mark himself. There is a clear, obvious power difference in here and she is, after all, for now, one of the antagonists. We can't forget that.

But it isn't just "evil" or "bad" or "cruel". Because Helena, due to the lack of freedom in her own life, is in the same place (in a different enviornment, though and turning that into power over others instead) as them. She longs for a human connection she has never experienced before. She is broken and torn apart about who she truly is. She uses Mark to experience this, yes, but at what point does that turn into real attraction? At what point her jealousy towards her innie and dehumanization of both herself and the group turns into her also realizing she's the same and understanding Mark? At what point does Mark fall for and embrace the kinship that connects Helly/Helena (that guilt and shame and lack of freedom and yearning for love) instead of just seeing double? At what point does Helena stop seeing a chance to experience love to start seeing... Just Mark?

And after ALL OF THAT it still doesn't make it okay to do what she did.

In the most natural, poetic, human perception of this scene, there is a connection between no matter who they are. But memories and shared experiences are also a huge part of ourselves, we do change with them. Both Mark and Helly have said multiple times that they don't see themselves as an extension of their outies and are their own selves. It doesn't matter whether they are the same or not, it's how they see it. Mark never agreed to share his body with Helena specifically and that's taking away from him the chance of choosing individually. His freedom.

In my opinion it was 100% rape but it's way deeper than just that. It's still awful, though, and we have to start learning to embrace complex characters and try to understand them without only being guided by our IRL moral compass.

[sol-consort]

Between all of the available options, the one person I think Commander Shepard would fall in love with the most—time after time after time, no matter if renegade or paragon—is the player.

In a self-aware kind of sense. Shepard knows you're there, felt your presence fade in the aftermath of the last battle in ME1, a part of themselves evaporating into thin air, an inexplicable feeling of losing something they can't being to describe. Like an invisible limb amputated in plain sight.

Everyone can see that, the way Shepard acts differently, lacking that defined edge that having your guidance during the game offered.

Only for your presence to re-materialise at the intro of ME2. Shepard felt your soul breathing life into their body again, but circumstances didn't allow the time to dwell on it nor question this rejuvenating limb they thought was long gone. They had to act fast and get everyone out of the ship. Even if it spelt their own demise, suffocating in the vacuum of space, they'd die peacefully knowing they're never truly alone, that they're whole again with you swimming through their veins.

Three years in a coma, on a deathbed, reconstructed from the atom up. Three years of having you by their side, a comforting presence that anchored Shepard and pieced together their sanity whilst the doctors pieced their physical mind. Three years passed in the blink of an eye for the player, but felt like an eternity for the commander you're puppeting around.

And just how attached Shepard would be to you, to the faint voice urging them towards certain dialogue options, the subtle nudges to move in certain directions, the twitch of their finger as if your hand is brushing against theirs to select a specific planet you had in mind on the galactic map.

They trudged through this journey filled with both unfamiliar faces and changed-beyond-recognition once familiar ones. Endured the hardships, the deception, the belittling, and dismissal attitude of the council. No matter how many people had gotten close to them, caressed their body, and shared their warmth, none of them could truly reach within Shepard's heart.

At first, they thought they were crazy. Maybe a screw or two were loose after the reconstruction surgery. Maybe the doctors did put them back wrong after all. For how could someone fall in love with themselves? And not even themselves but a very specific part of them, a vague presence constantly hovering around.

Shepard came to the revelation that you weren't part of them, not natively, at least. You were an outside influence, something—someone that held the potential to become part of them at given instances, only to depart just as suddenly, leaving them feeling hollow as their world becomes a little bit more cold and grey.

That realisation only served to further their infatuation, to resonate within their mind how justified their feelings are. It's not something they could explain. Where would they even begin? Who would believe them? They attempted to open their mind and allow Liara to peer through their consciousnesses countless times, and yet not once could the asari sense your presence. Nothing seemed out of place.

Miranda is not an option. The least Shepard needs, right now, is an overly concerned scientist coercing them into more experiments, brain scans, and psychological evaluations.

Leaving the more spiritual crew memebers as their only option... If only Ashley was here. Thane will have to do for now. As Shepard told him of their strife, the drell was surprisingly more accepting of their eccentric tale of love than they expected.

He confessed not to fully understanding what Shepard's going through. However, he does sincerely believe in the existence of outsider influence. souls which weave themselves into your own during times of need, in order to help guide and direct you towards the righteous path—guardian angels is what he described them as, described you, the player, as. Whisps that come and go as they please.

Not that you'd be aware of a single word said during this conversation, of course not. Much like the instances of Shepard showering, training, and getting a full night's rest, this conversation between them and the drell only occurred during the quiet hours of the universe. The ones when your game is turned off, leaving you oblivious to all the rather mundane aspects of this world.

Although, he did discourage his commander from perusing anything more than admiration with this said spirit, it's a one-sided relationship, as he explained best he could. You'll only see what the universe wants you to see, Shepard's growing infatuation is not one of them. Angels came and went, that is their nature.

Leaving Shepard back to where they started at square one, frustrated and indecisive on how to approach this, how to approach you. And now they're questioning if you'd even perceive their approach. Are you aware of their existence? Or are they presented to you by the universe as an empty canvas, devoid of personality and preferences.

For a first step, they needed to make sure you knew of their consciousness... easier said than done. They could hear your voice sometimes, never clear words, but more akin to background white noise. A distant humming while they slept, the faint sound of an airy laugh during a conversation with one of their crewmembers.

Do you hear them, too? Or do you only hear the words you make them say during important conversations? Phrases that suddenly pop into their mind out of nowhere, that seemed a little too perfect of a thoughtful response for them to having come up with it on the spot.

Shepard decided that there is no better way for them to prove their free will to you than to purposely go against your benevolent guidance. Not out of ungratefulness or annoyance, but just as a way to catch your attention, remind you that whilst you can give orders, at the end of the day, they're the actual person steering this ship around.

It's small things at first, wrong dialogue choices getting selected that have you questioning if you misclicked or something. Shepard selecting a different elevator floor from the one you initially picked. Your built-up romance with a specific character going down the drain as Shepard decides to reject them and end everything during the lock-in conversation, and no matter how many times you reload a savefile and carefully click on the correct dialogue choices, the words coming out of their mouth are always the same.

A bug, is the logical conclusion you first reached, what else would it be? Video game characters coming to life? Don't be absurd.

A fresh reinstall would do the trick.

Except... it persists.

The internet hasn't been helpful. No evidence of such a bug ever existing came up.

[temis-de-leon]

I'm very curious as to how the demon brothers would handle an MC / Y/N that accidentally injured their knee and can't move their leg for a while as a result

Like, everything was fine and dandy, the day was going well! But as they were walking from one area to the other, suddenly they turned too quickly, or perhaps they awkwardly shifted their weight in a moment of absentmindedness - and now their kneecap is out of the socket. Content one moment, distressed the next once they realize what happened. They scream so loudly from the pain that you can hear it outside the House of Lamentation, immediately making any noise go quiet. Even once they (very carefully) get it back in place and the pain starts to subside, they're shaking and in tears, completely unable to walk on that side. They're gonna be out of commission for a few days, may or may not have permanent damage in the area, but it slowly gets better over time

It's okay if you don't wanna do this one, btw! This is just based on something that happened to me earlier this week, gotta love Funky Joint Syndrome (hEDS) :')

I was reading this and thought wow, anon is for sure talking from experience, and then I got to the end 😭

I did not know the hEDS were a thing, but I've seen people my age complaining about their knees like they're 70 and already retired, so I totally get the feeling. I myself already grunt a little bit when I get up, like a true father of three.

I like the idea of the brothers seeing the MC as strong, capable and a little scary and then watching as they scream bloody murder for a busted knee.

I pray for your funky joints, anon, I truly do 🩷 Let's add this to the list ✨

[astertimberwolf]

We're all survivors of one too many bad things happening to us. I've healed from a lot, but CPTSD still makes me feel like I'm the lonelist of all, at times... Mostly because of trust issues. It becomes so hard to trust again and so easy to become a hermit or social recluse who never wants to leave their safe space or interact with other people ever again- out of fear of being abused, hurt, let down, disappointed, etc. all over- for the umpteenth time.

I think the thing that stings the most is- knowing, deep down, that the likelihood of you finding love... AKA someone who understands you wholly, respects you, cherishes you, supports you and wants to know- and love every single part of you... Is close to none. At least for me it is- or feels that way. When people look at me, they only see my mental health issues, my quirks, my defects, my vulnerabilities- or worse yet: my past mistakes. They're not able to see that there's a complex, emotionally deep, sensitive, empathetic, caring conscious being underneath all this.

Yes, I'm autistic and have ADHD. Yes, I suffer from Complex PTSD, which can lead to unfounded anxiety or depressive bouts from time to time- and hinder my ability to socialize and connect to others... But I've got a lot of love to give as well, a past- complete with a stupid number of experiences, both good and bad... a story to tell- a personality, which, while quirky, doesn't make me repulsive or hard to be around. I've also got lots of hobbies and interests as well... In short, I'm not just another "walking, talking problem" or "NPC you can interact with". I'm a person that can add color to your life. All you have to do is take some time to get to know me. If you're not a bad person, then I don't bite at all and won't retreat into myself to safeguard my wellbeing.

Life is so short, yet so many people have been traumatized or are socially maladapted to a stupid degree because they grew up on toxic social media... Wouldn't it be amazing if it became easier to form bonds and deeper connections with people? If we learnt to communicate and respect each other more? Live in harmony despite being very different? Share laughs, good memories and find company in one-another?

I don't know if this pain is just a consequence of having CPTSD- or if it's a whole slew of generations that depended on the internet for everything and, now, don't know how to form meaningful friendships / relationships with one-another.

If we want to change things for the better, we have to start putting more time, effort and points into empathy and mutual understanding. I have... But so many people I have come across have not, and it's deeply saddening and disheartening that nobody takes the time to develop their emotional intelligence or maturity any more... I want a better world and better people...

...a better future. I'm fighting for all that, tooth and nail. But will people join my plea and fight? Can we turn this around...? Be it through investing more time in platforms where you actually have a semblance of seeing a person in front of you like VRChat- or even creating new places where people can gather and help one another?

I don't know anymore. I'm rambling at this point. But I think these are real problems that everyone is just looking away from or denying the existence of by pretending everything is fine... It really is not. Can we make this year, a year where humanity starts slowly turning around and becomes a truly social, communal species again- instead of this individualistic, narcissistic, consumeristic / capitalistic nonsense? I know the former sounds political, but it really isn't. Look at how the most popular social media platforms are designed to enrage us, manipulate us, degrade our attention, ability to function- and click on stupid ragebait and misinformation. All for the sake of targeted adverts, engagement... And at the end of the day, money. It's always about that and not people's wellbeing. Is there a way to stop this and start over? :(

believe me, it hurts like hell to face the fact no one is coming to save you.. but fighting to save yourself can give you a connection to yourself that no one else can give you. it's a feeling that honestly can't be put into words. but it's so worth sticking around for.

and this doesn't mean you have to fight alone. there will be people in your life who can help tend your wounds. give you a safe space to rest. teach you how to strengthen the parts of yourself that are injured. or simply be with you in between battles, doing all the wonderful things that make life worth living, together.

i don't know if that made sense. i just want anyone else going through it to know there is another side to the hopelessness and desperation you're feeling. maybe it won't feel like mine is. but i do hope it's just as rewarding for you. you deserve that much, and so much more.

whatever you're facing now does not have to be the end of you. keep going. i promise you're worth it.

[guardian-angle22]

This or That: Tarlos Edition -> Season 1 sexy times or Season 2 sexy times

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

My hot take is that marcanne has as much potential for toxic yuri as any other calamity trio ship and it's not nearly as soft and fluffy as one may think

[maxwellhauskaffee]

Thank you! People forget it's the 1830s. What's considered normal and ethical then is different now. Same will happen for our time.

By all accounts, both are mutually providing societally moral-loving gestures and one could argue they're a bit more progressive for their time. They're trying to uphold social roles they believe show love and fidelity.

It's as my mother said, "I've been married to your father for over forty years, and we still will never know everything about each other. You can never fully know someone. Doesn't matter if you date for two or twenty. Marriage is a roll of the dice and a matter of trust. Trust that what this person's shown continues to show. Understanding there are deeper layers to them, good and bad, that you'll never reach, even if they want you to."

She also mentioned the obvious: the real test begins after marriage. Once vowes are exchanged and you live together, you're locked in for the hard game.

Ellen and Thomas have only been married for a few months? The hardest years of marriage tend to be the first three. Both partners REALLY have to work through things. It's why "for better or for worse" is a thing.

Sans Orlok, we'll never truly know how Ellen and Thomas would fare. Yet I think both are trying very hard to make it work.

Thomas wants a good life for Ellen, especially with her mental condition ( that he doesn't know to be otherworldly ). It would be a Victorian death sentence to not strive for financial stability. Especially if he has to medically provide for Ellen.

Even in her fits, Thomas doesn't abhor her. Is he scared? Sure. Who the fuck wouldn't be? I had seizures growing up and they scared people. I get it. Instead, Thomas tries to console Ellen before his trip and many times after.

When seeing her condition upon return, he wants to call a doctor which standard of the time. I don't think it was out of absolute fear, but in desperation to help her. In fact, he keeps her with those he knows she enjoys the company of for her mental well-being.

Of course, this is the early game where most make sincere efforts due to the honeymoon stage. But considering the intense shit they go through in the course of a few weeks, it's clear they're still trying to uphold their vows not out of societal obligation, but love ( with a bucket of trauma bonding ).

I don’t think we talk enough about how despite being married Ellen and Thomas were essentially in the first month of living together stage we would consider a part of dating, because it’s Germany 1838. It’s kind of unfair to judge their relationship as unsalvageable when we only see them at the stage where major problems first start popping up and needing to be worked through.

It’s also unfair to judge them how we would view a relationship at the newly wed stage (usually engagement after at least a few months of living together—usually a few years after), like yeah they’ve written letters and had little supervised dates pre engagement/post engagement, but that’s not the same as living together at all.

Also when major problems did start popping up that they needed to work through they’d both gotten a large serving of trauma (both mental and physical), so they’re not exactly operating at normal capacity then either. So we can’t really judge how’d they’d have worked through problems by that angle either.

[finncakes]

:/

[boxwinebaddie]

this selena cover is the cd song ever of all time jysk :*

[starflungwaddledee]

it's awfully refreshing to see a rise in malevolent galas again, and i'm preeet-ty sure your popularity's playing into it. grrrrrrr yes! let that boy kill! let him scheme and conspire! let him wreak havoc like the true planet-destroying fiend he is!

waaahaaa i'm so delighted to hear it! i will be completely honest, i was extremely nervous to post that very first comic with him in (where he was undeniably malicious) because almost every other headcanon i'd seen of him at that point is that he is Just Misunderstood and Actually A Good Guy or, at the very least, perhaps currently acting out but still Redeemable With A Heart Of Gold

and those are amazing too! not a single piece of shade on those characterisations; they are genuinely cathartic tropes and i love to see them- for him or anyone else. but it made me quite scared to have to just be like... 'anyway he is extraordinarily and wilfully cruel in my headcanons and stories!!'

so it really means a lot to me that you enjoy this characterisation!! and that you think possibly it's having an impact on other folks' characterisations in a positive or refreshing way! that's such an honour! i was scared people would loathe my storytelling or characterisation of their favourite blorbo (i still fear it, ngl) or even think that i like... don't like him. but the thing is that i love him. i love him to bits and pieces and because of how much i love him i've done him the ultimate honour of assigning him Irredeemable All-powerful Villain and allowed him free reign to bite and kill

[nodutra19]

This might be my favorite episode in the whole series. Though I don't play "favorites" for the most part and just look at things as a whole, rather than through rankings.

By critiquing patriarchy and gender, RGU necessarily critiques hero worship. Now, I haven't actually studied up on hero worship just yet. It's an idea I became familiar with after reading The Pike by Lucy Hughes-Hallett. After BHM, I'm gonna read three of her other books, starting with Heroes: Traitors, Saviors, and Superman: A History of Hero Worship. Maybe I'll write about RGU and hero worship by the middle of next month.

In particular with this episode, and as has been built over time, is the idea of "special people." A few episodes ago, Akio waxes poetic over how "special" Utena is, and how special people don't know they're special. There's a few layers to that, but here I wanna focus on the hero worship aspect in terms of Souji/Nemuro.

I've loved this episode for a very long time. It truly feels like a wrinkle in time and space. It gives me nostalgia for a where and when I never laid personal witness to. Last year around this time I read American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer by Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin. The very first chapter has the quote:

Around the globe, scientists were soon to be celebrated as a new kind of hero, promising to usher in a renaissance of rationality, prosperity and social meritocracy. In America, reform movements were challenging the old order. Theodore Roosevelt was using the bully pulpit of the White House to argue that good government in alliance with science and applied technology could forge an enlightened new Progressive Era.

For some reason I never drew this connection to RGU until today. It did tickle me on my rewatch last year but still.

"Genius." What a loaded word! I've read about geniuses, from Marx to Oppie to Tolstoy to Nabokov and now to W.E.B Du Bois, and they were all just as foolish as they were intelligent! I think we see here a sort of prefigurement to Akio and his relationship to Prince Dios. Literally they are the same, but Prince Dios lives on as a separate image to which Akio aspires because 1.) He wants to regain lost time and 2.) These are the demands of patriarchy.

But that's all it really is: an image. An idea. A rotten ideal in white. "But is that what she really wants?"

In this case, Professor Nemuro somewhat does fit the mold of a "genius." A genius is an odd person, a disconcerting changeling. A Byronic solitary figure who "doesn't fit in," who "stands out," who "comes into your life like a hurricane." They're a little beyond human ken. They are a "god among men." They are often "hard to work with." And the worship is just as cultic and religious as all these romantic phrases imply.

Of course, most of their contemporaries think lesser of them than what subsequent myth making would imply. In the case of Marx, he could be a bit grumpy (and was a D1 bum in the funniest sense. An iconic debt shuffler) and had terrible handwriting. You'll often hear people say "Smart people think so fast they can seem rude" or "Have bad handwriting." Behaviors and traits that would otherwise be pathologized are at least excused if not embellished if someone is a "genius."

I think there are other layers to this stuff, especially, I imagine, for those who are ace and aro, but I dunno enough about that to get into the weeds about it.

To bring things real close to RGU, I remember some years ago getting into a conversation with some several years older than me. They were an immigrant, and so I helped them with dealing with the culture shock they were facing. Eventually we got to talking about generations, and they said "I think this generation [referring to mine, Gen Z], will change the world. If more people were like you, things would be better." I was obviously flattered, especially the second bit, but the first bit had always bothered me. As I'm reading through David Levering Lewis's biography on W.E.B Du Bois for BHM, I'm reminded of how Du Bois came up with the idea of the "Talented Tenth." They were essentially the Black Vanguard who would lift the Black race up. Later on, however, he revised it to the "Guiding Hundredth," which attempted to democratize the idea and expand racial lines to something more intersectional. Having gained this knowledge after that conversation, I realize why I was bothered by what that person said: it seemed another form of idolatry. Changing the world isn't the work of a chosen few predetermined by a secular mandate of heaven (In Oppie's time, it was scientists. Nowadays, the "heroes" are entrepreneurs and venture capitalists), it will involve all of us, of all walks of life.

My thoughts are very soupy on this subject, so pardon if I seemed rambly and unfocused.

I'll at least leave a few quotes:

I've become convinced that genius is a vastly overrated commodity. I think this country is full of geniuses, guys and gals so bright they make your average card carrying MENSA member look like Fucko the Clown. And I think that most of them are teachers, living and working in small town obscurity because that's the way they like it. —Stephen King Insomnia

To hell with the philosophy of the great men of this world! All great wise men are as despotic as generals and as rude and insensitive as generals, because they are confident of their impunity. —Anton Chekhov, after souring a bit on a late controversial play by Tolstoy. As translated by Rosamund Bartlett

Genius…means little more than the faculty of perceiving in an unhabitual way. —William James The Principle of Psychology

That last quote is part of the epigraph of the Du Bois biography I'm reading. So rn I got a lot on my head about geniuses, professors, heroism, hero worship, masculinity, etc.

For Marx and Tolstoy, I recommend the biographies Love and Capital: Karl and Jenny Marx and the Birth of a Revolution by Mary Gabriel and Tolstoy: A Russian Life by Rosamund Bartlett (along with her excellent translation of Anna Karenina)

Fansub release + translation notes for Utena ep 22!

さすがに何でもよく知ってるわね。でもそれだけの情報網があるなら、早く奴らの正体も突き止めて欲しいわ。

You know everything, don’t you Juri? With such a vast intelligence network, I wish you’d hurry up and find out these people’s true identities. (literal translation)

You know everything, don’t you Juri? I wish you'd put your little birdies to work finding out just who is behind this. (final translation)

情報網 (jouhoumou) is an interesting word to use here! It literally means “intelligence network”, so Nanami is implying that Juri has a bunch of spies feeding her everytthing that happens at the school. To actually use the word “intelligence network” sounds a little but out of place in English though, so I rephrased the line a little to sound more conversational and accusatory.

Boy: しばらく消えないでしょうね、根室教授。 Nemuro: ん？なんだい？ Boy: 雪の事ですよ、教授。

Boy: Won't disappear for a while still, eh, Professor Nemuro? Nemuro: I beg your pardon? Boy: I was talking about the snow, Professor.

There’s a double meaning in the first line here — the boy could reasonably be talking about the Professor himself not clearing out for a while. That was actually my original phrasing: “Won’t clear out for a while” but Anya suggested “disappear” which is actually much closer to the original Japanese phrasing so I changed it to that. I think this exchange preserves that passive aggressive dig at the Professor pretty well!

あの人は花が散るのを見たくないんですよ。こうすれば短い命の花も少しは長持ちさせることができる。でも、こうまでして永らえても花自身は嬉しいんでしょうか？

She hates it when the petals begin to fall. This way even a short-lived flower can be made to last a little longer. But… I wonder how the flowers feel about their existence being prolonged like this.

This is one of my favourite exchanges in the show! I think this really emphasises how Japanese sentence structure and general way of phrasing things differs drastically from English. A literal translation of the first sentence would be something like “That person does not want to see flowers scatter”. Each part of the sentence sounds weird if translated individually:

あの人 - “that person” being used because Japanese prefers that phrasing to third person pronoun “she”.

花が散る - “flowers scatter” is the most natural way to say “petals fall/die” in Japanese but sounds very odd in English

見たくないんですよ - “does not want to see X” also sounds very funny when translated directly to English, but simply conveys the idea that she doesn’t like seeing something happen.

When taken as a whole, complete idea though, the sentence can easily be translated into something that sounds natural in English: “She hates it when the petals begin to fall.”

The hardest part of this to translate was the last sentence. I originally had translated it like this: “So much work to make them last, and yet I wonder if the flowers themselves are happy.”

こうまでして - to go this far/to put in this much effort/to put in this much work. However, this is more of a tone setting phrase than a meaning carrying phrase, so it’s okay not to translate it directly.

永らえる - to prolong something’s lifespan. This is hard to translate because while the phrasing works in Japanese, the preserved flowers are actually dead. So you can’t translate it as “I wonder how the flowers feel about being made to live so long” or something of that ilk. My original translation of “make them last” works, but I prefer the final translation of “existence being prolonged”. It sounds more applicable to Mamiya’s situation, and this exchange is all about that metaphor.

永遠に憧れる心が美しく思えたりするだけだ。

(lit.) We just think of a heart that longs for eternity as beautiful. (??)

We just romanticise the idea of eternity.

Another great example of Japanese phrasing that sounds super weird when translated directly, but can sound very natural when the core idea behind the words is translated properly. “Romanticise” is such a succinct one-word translation of the several word phrase 「憧れる心が美しく思えたり」!

Thank you to my amazing editor @dontbe-lasanya for their help with the episode as always!

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Rose divider taken from this post.