Coll Who?

the original games take place in japan, so that will be the context any of the dialogue here is translated from. here they’re saying they have no plans to marry, almost in a reassuring way. seems odd right? especially wright’s line of no plans to, “even if I wanted to.”

money doesn’t seem to be a massive problem for wright even if he’s not massively affluent, and a marriage wouldn’t hinder his job. so even if he wanted to, why wouldn’t he?

the answer is simple and also incredibly sad. gay marriage isn’t legally recognized in japan. which means that to get married in japan means to marry a woman and have kids.

that’s the only option. you can figure out a way to justify this in the localization setting of japanifornia, but this was written first with the context of japan in mind.

now you could interpret this other ways like them just not wanting to marry due to dedication to work, but if they were truly dedicated to work then edgeworth wouldn’t constantly risk his career for wright. not to mention neither of them have shown interest in women in recent games, so wright’s statement about not planning even if he wanted to makes no sense in the context of just not needing marriage. why would he want to if he had nobody to marry?

and the way they say it as almost a reassurance–wright getting shocked at the thought edgeworth might want to marry and asking if he’s okay, edgeworth reassuring him it’s okay, he has no plans, asking wright in turn, him saying he won’t even if he wants to (implying that if he wanted to marry someone, he can’t), wright noting how edgeworth thinks of marrying A WOMAN specifically since that’s the only option, and the way they say it so dramatically like it’s a personal stake for both.

in the context of japan, they’re telling each other they’re not going to go off with some woman and marry her and have children. they’re saying they have no plans to leave where they are and start something else.

it’s a promise to each other that they won’t leave the other for a traditional, easier life.

Our home, once filled with warmth, laughter and memories, has been reduced to rubble. We have been displaced more than thirty times from place to a place with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Each time we returned, we found more destruction, we always clung to the hope of rebuilding, but in the last attack, our home was completely destroyed, we are now homeless, living in unsafe conditions with no shelter to protect us from the cold nights. The loss of our home is not just the loss of a building, it’s the loss of safety, stability, and the place where our dreams were nurtured.

With my father unemployed since the beginning of the war, we have no income to provide even the most basic necessities. Water, food, medicine, warm clothes and blankets-things that many take for granted-are beyond our reach. Every day is a battle for survival, and every night is a reminder of the dangers and struggles we face. I am determined to care for family and give my younger brothers and sisters a chance to grow up with hope. But I cannot do it alone.

selkie au counts for mermay.... riiiiight......

Attention for all human and humanity in the world

My name is MOHAMMED ABDULKARIM from Gaza Strip, Palestine, 35 years old, I lost my house and my supermarket shop, both were destroyed by Israel aircraft missiles during this war

before 7oct I have good life and I worked in my shop and everything was good

Now I lost everything especially all the goods inside my supermarket which value more than 50k usd. Now

I owe people money and more importantly there is no food for me and my family. Now we live in a tent with my wife, parents and my siblings, in addition the weather is very cold now in the tent ⛺.

Please help my family 👪 to be survive, safety and to get some food and clothes for us.

My friends, I am sick. I cannot have children. I need to have an operation outside Gaza in Egypt. My friends, my only hope in this life is to see my children. I hope everyone will respect my feelings and support me so that I can have an operation in Egypt so that I can have children and see my children. My friends. Donate to us so that we can raise money to perform this operation This report proves that. I hope you can help me as much as possible, please

Everything has been destroyed. We now live in the middle of a tent. Winter is killing us and hunger is running out of our blood

We need to settle in a place that is safe from the winter and the harsh cold. We need to provide the necessities for living here so that we can live in safety here💔💔

Donate anything, support us, stand with me, we need any help from you. May God bless you 🙏🍉

I will not forgive you if you are able to donate even a little and you do not donate. Be sure that our lives are in your hands, my friend. I hope everyone will donate to save us and provide the necessities of life here in Gaza to provide the simplest things. I hope to donate to provide food and drink for my family.

Donate $25 to save us from this war

Thank you all 🍉

@gazavetters

Umm Saleh, who once lived in a small house filled with the voices of her children, now bore witness to the agony of displacement. She was forced to flee with her children after a shell hit their home, leaving behind years of memories and simple belongings she never imagined would become unattainable.

Every morning, Umm Saleh leaves her tent in search of sustenance to feed her children. She goes to bakeries providing aid, waiting for hours under Gaza’s scorching sun. Despite the exhaustion that weighs down her frail body, she carries the bread, dampened with her tears, and returns with a fake smile that conceals the worries of a mother striving to protect the remnants of her family.

At night, when everyone else is asleep, Umm Saleh remains seated at the entrance of the tent, gazing at the dark sky. She reminisces about the days gone by, about her home that was once filled with warmth, and about her elderly, ailing husband of 70 years. Despite the pain, she finds remnants of hope in her heart—a hope for a day when peace will return and her children and grandchildren will live in a new home brimming with joy.

In moments of solitude, Umm Saleh finds solace in prayer and supplication. She implores God to protect Gaza and its people and to wipe away the dust of sorrow from everyone’s hearts. She often repeats, "We are here to remind the world that we are stronger than war, and we will rebuild our lives anew, no matter the cost."

Umm Saleh is not just a displaced woman but a symbol of patience and strength in the face of harsh circumstances. Her story, like the stories of thousands of mothers in Gaza, embodies the continuous struggle for life in a land torn apart by war, yet still blossoming with hope.

My name is Abdelmajed. I never imagined I’d be sharing my story like this, but life in Gaza has become unbearable. I am a survivor of the war here, and in the blink of an eye, everything I once knew—my home, my safety, my community—was ripped away from me.

The war has transformed Gaza into a graveyard of broken dreams. The buildings that once stood as symbols of life and resilience are now piles of rubble. Every corner is filled with the echoes of explosions. Every moment is shrouded in uncertainty. There is no security. There is no stability. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.

Basic needs have become luxuries. Food is scarce. Clean water is even scarcer. Hospitals are overwhelmed and under-resourced, and there is almost no medical care to be found. Every night, families go to bed hungry, praying they’ll wake up to see another day. The cost of basic necessities has skyrocketed, and it’s become a daily battle just to survive.

I’ve seen things I never thought possible—standing in long lines for a piece of bread, rationing every drop of water, and watching my people suffer in silence. I have lost everything—my home, my safety, my dignity.

Escape from Gaza is my only hope, but it’s almost impossible without financial help. The cost of evacuation is far beyond my means, and without support, I’m trapped in a warzone with no way out.

I’m reaching out to you now, in the hopes that someone, anyone, can help. I am not asking for luxury. I am asking for a chance—just a chance—to live. A chance to escape this never-ending cycle of fear, destruction, and loss. A chance to rebuild my life somewhere safe, where I can begin again, where I can find hope once more.

Any amount you can give will help me get closer to safety. Even the smallest donation will make a difference—it could be the lifeline I need to survive. If you are unable to donate, please share my story. The more people who hear it, the better the chance that I can find the support I desperately need.

Your kindness and support mean the world to me. You’re not just helping me escape a war; you’re giving me a chance to live, to rebuild, to breathe again.

Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring.