Echo and Narcissus, (detail), (1903), by John William Waterhouse RA (English, 1849–1917), oil on canvas, 109.2 × 189.2 cm, The Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool
An increasing number of First Nations' Chiefs are speaking out against growing talk of Alberta separation, vowing that, 'First Nations will
A growing number of First Nations leaders are voicing their concerns over calls for Alberta to separate from Canada — calls that have grown louder following the recent federal election.
On Friday, following on the heels of several other First Nations who have expressed opposition to the idea, the Chiefs of four Calgary-area First Nations also issued a statement saying that “any efforts to separate will be met with our full opposition.”
While the Chiefs express some sympathy with the “deep frustration echoing across Alberta and much of the Prairies,” saying as leaders “we too often feel unheard,” they also insist that “First Nations will not separate.”
Hi, if you are taking requests, may i ask for a fluff Dazai x GN! reader fic? Where the reader is off to take a mission overseas, and dazai is upset that the reader is gonna be gone for a whole week, So The reader gifts Dazai a Teddy bear plushy they made themselves to keep him company while they are gone.
Now Dazai cuddles the teddy bear at night when he misses his s/o, or he can't sleep, and cherishes the teddy bear cause the reader made it for him
𝓣eddy 𝓐ffection
⌯⌲ hi there lovely, at the time of your submission, i was accepting long form fics still; i am always accepting mini fics/drabbles and headcanons. this is a very cute idea, and it reminds me of my main fic where my oc got him a stuffed puppy he keeps with him. this is doable now as a mini fic <3
"What do you mean you're going to be overseas?!" Dazai is trying not to be the one freaking out about this, but he has never been separated from you, not like this. He holds his hand up, preventing you from giving him a response, and he heads toward the door to shove his feet into some random shoes. "You know what? Don't worry, I'll go speak to Fukuzawa about this myself." You sigh, closing your eyes momentarily before walking over to him and gently grabbing his arm that is struggling to shrug into his coat. He pauses long enough to look at you, then extends his limb toward you. "Oh, thanks, I appreciate your help." He says, even though that wasn't what you were doing.
"Osamu," you begin, gently but there's hesitancy in your tone that he can sense immediately. He stops moving then, a frozen statue, coat half dangling from his body. "My love, my life, my light, my everything that makes me smile-"
"You're giving me more bad news?" He laments, face dropping, looking ever the wounded puppy left out in the rain. Your lips part, but you stop, unable to think of the exact words to ease the blow that this is set in stone. "Please, don't let me stop you from twisting the knife!" You sigh heavily through your nose, thumb pressing to your forehead as you turn to walk away toward the couch, a headache coming along from his dramatics. He follows behind you, mouth in a line as the wrinkle in his brow deepens, gearing up to throw a fit.
"Lover, I agreed to go," you begrudgingly tell him, blunt, hands rummaging around in your bag you had begun packing before he returned home. "Fukuzawa offered it to me, and I told him I was looking forward to it."
"Then we're both going?" He reaches your side, seeing only the one suitcase with only your belongings inside.
"Uhm," you clear your throat, finding what you were looking for, and hide it behind your back when you turn to face him again. You're chewing on your lip, and he looks at you as if you have committed the worst act of utter betrayal. "Osa, it's gonna be me, Fukuzawa, and Ranpo." You speak slowly, trying to keep your voice level, knowing he's going to have a conniption at this next statement: "They need you to stay here to help Kunikida and the others with the agency."
"You agreed to go knowing I'd have to stay behind?!" His voice raises, distressed, a bit bitter that they didn't even extend the offer to him to tag along.
"Yes," you tell him, cutting to the chase, and he doesn't know how to react. Yes?! "Honey, listen, they don't take me seriously at the agency! This is a really big opportunity for me to prove I am just as good of a detective as everyone else! I'm going to be useful!" You plead your case, trying to convince him to let this go. "Plus, it won't be long. A week tops; it'll be so quick, as if I never left."
"A week?!" He hasn't calmed down in the slightest, going back to rushing pulling his coat on all the way, stomping toward the entrance once more. "Yeah, no, not happening. I'm gonna tell the president to put me on this mission with you. Or at the very least let me come with you!" He huffs, you chasing back after him to grab his elbow again, and he starts pouting when he faces you. "We're together! Couples go on work trips together all the time! I'm persuasive, I'll have a plane ticket within five minutes." He attempts jerking his arm away, but you carefully tighten your grip, having the be the levelheaded one for once.
"Osa, please, I beg of you just sit down on the couch. Relax, I'll make you a mug of your favorite tea, and I'll give you a present," you coax him, though he puts up some resistance. "You love getting gifts." You over emphasize your pouting, lower lip sticking out and giving him big eyes. His nose scrunches up as he turns his head away, worried if he keeps looking at your cute expression, he'll give up.
"Fine," he grumbles, kicking his shoes off and throwing his coat off his body like a child he is throwing a huge tantrum. He literally stomps this time to the couch, plopping down and folding his arms, features scrunched and wrinkled as his pouting worsens. You cautiously step up to him, leaning down a bit to catch his eye, and he sticks his tongue out at you. You bite back your giggle, not wanting to hurt his feelings, then sit down beside him, still keeping your secret behind you.
"Hey, I knew you'd be super upset about this, so as soon as the president told me, I got to work making something for you," you explain, lightly nudging his shoulder with yours. He looks at you sidelong, not saying anything. You wait a moment, seeing if he'd ease up, but he doesn't - you have to push aside the hope of him getting over this. Your arms come forward, holding a small stuffed animal in your hands, and his gaze disinterestedly drops down to it before lingering, arms slowly unfurling from his chest to readjust and face you better.
"A teddy bear?" His finger presses down into its tummy, watching it squish in your palms then raise back up.
"I made it for you," you beam, proud of yourself you were able to get it finished in enough time. "It's stuffed full of the softest filling and if you squeeze it, it smells just like me. I also left some of my perfume here for you to spray on it if it starts going away." You rush out, reaching in your pocket to pull out the small vial of your signature scent. He stares at the items, such thoughtful gifts, but he's still very clearly and obviously upset.
He scoffs, rolling his eyes and aggressively hits his back on the cushions. "I'm a grown man. I don't need a stuffed toy." Your head tilts, the offerings still there, then you shrug.
"Alright, I'll just-"
"Leave it here," he interrupts.
Dazai carried that teddy bear everywhere with him. He took it to work, letting it sit in his coat pocket while on a case or on his desk while he did paperwork; he took it with him to the grocery store and kept it either in his pocket or sitting in the cart like it was his child; he held onto it around the apartment, only separating from it whenever he went to the restroom. He had doused it in your perfume, like you said he could, and he laid it on your side of the bed, pretending it was you so he could still sleep while you were away. When you called every night to check on him, letting him know how well everything was going, and of course telling him all about how much you missed him, he hugged the stuffie close to his chest, holding it the way he holds you.
He didn't care what anyone thought of him if they saw him with it. He missed you so much it hurt, and that little stuffed bear, that you took time and love and effort to make for him made it all a little more tolerable in your absence. The first day at work, a few colleagues made passing comments about it, but Dazai ignored them, saying it was a special gift from his special lover that he didn't want to be without. Fellow adults at the grocery store or in the park gave him strange and judgmental looks for having it sticking out of his coat or pants pocket, but the children would have a sense of relief seeing a grown up still carrying around his favorite toy - one pointed in glee, telling his mom: "I wanna be like him when I get older! He wears a cool coat and keeps his bear with him!" To which his mom merely responded with 'no you don't, honey' and pushed him along the aisle. It made Dazai laugh and shake his head to himself, moving along with his shopping to prepare for your return home.
And when you did come back, he clung to you with no allowance for you to breathe or go to the bathroom. When it was time for bed that first night after your return, he had not only you wrapped up in his arms with his legs entangling yours, to keep you trapped there on the cozy, comfortable, familiar mattress with the freshly washed sheets and fluffy comforter - that he made sure was so inviting you'd think twice about taking off again - but he had the stuffie clutched in his hold too. While the teddy bear is something he will cherish forever and use as a placeholder when you decide to "abandon" him again, it will never compare to actually having you in his embrace for him to smother with his overbearing affection that you simply couldn't ever get sick of.
aaahhhh he just loves you so much!!!!
- ghxst
minific masterlist
tag list//: @dazaisfavoritemistake @luanniidae @starr3i
Tim was your childhood sweetheart. You don’t even remember him entering your life, he’s just kinda always been there.
He’s been there for everything. All the horrors you’ve gone through, most of which you don’t even remember, and all the loss and despair, through everyone and everything that had slipped through your fingers.
You had lost everything but him. Your family, your friends, your belongings and even your memories were all gone. Yet he remained.
And he could say the same for you. Even when he disappeared for weeks without a trace, or got in fights at school, no matter how distant or how clingy he has been- you were always right there, right where he’d left you.
Right now, though, Tim is missing again. Probably on another mission or something. But this time, it’s different. Too long. It’s been a month now, and he still isn’t back. Maybe something happened?
Four months. Oh God, not again. Not you. You scratch at your arms, lying awake for the 72nd night in a row. At some point, you are genuinely going to go insane.
At five months, the world ceases to exist. You don’t even get out of bed anymore unless you absolutely do not have a choice.
Six months in when he visits again. It’s nice, really nice. Emotional, even. But you know better than to get your hopes up. You’re smarter than that. The light in your eyes dull the minute he’s gone again. Still, you try to keep it together.
At seven months, you end up getting a job at some fast food restaurant. You actually don’t hate it, it gets you out of the house and keeps you from bedrotting! Thats always good, right?
Life is still empty. So, so, very empty. Many people have tried, but none of them will ever come close to filling that specifically shaped void.
You try not to think about him, to forget what he means to you in the first place. You should’ve known, should’ve predicted this. Of course he was never going to stay, nothing has. You’ve been through this scenario before and you will survive once again. You don’t need anyone anyways.
Yet still, everything seems to remind you.
By the eight month, big things are happening. You’re different now. Better. You’ve realized so many life-changing things, things you cannot even put into words. But you’re healing.
You know what you want out of life, now. You don’t have to serve for a living. You don’t have to be tied down to one position, working for some random fucking guy that stole what was already given to you by the earth and told you it was never yours at all.
You’re no longer convinced that this life is remotely normal, being indoors all the time and working 9-5 shifts while the upper class deliberately isolates you from each other. You’re fed up with being fed a lie that we are above animals, above nature, to the point we’ve removed ourselves from our humanity and FULLY BELIEVE THIS IS THE WAY IT WORKS.
And you’re angry. And you know exactly what you’re going to do about it. Unfortunately for you, the love of your life is on the enemy’s side. as much as you adore him, he’s still a billionaire CEO that works for the police. That makes things incredibly complicated.
As of now, you’re scribbling in your notebook at the front desk. It’s beyond slow, and you’re by yourself. So you doodle and write about your plan, how you’re going to rally the community and burn everything to the ground. How you’ll start off living in a bus, not paying rent or licking a strangers boot. You’ll pay for it with your art, alongside a plethora of “side gigs”.
And you’ll travel the world, collecting an army of likeminded people. And you’ll work together to not only overthrow the government, but get rid of it altogether. For we are not supposed to be controlled by other people the way that we are. What you call “communism” is quite simply just human nature, the way we STARTED OUT. The way it’s SUPPOSED TO BE. THE WAY WE ARE INTRINSICALLY DESIGNED!!!
Your thoughts are interrupted by the silhouette of a man approaching the door in your peripherals. Once you look up though, he’s already made his way to the back. Weird, but maybe he’s ordering online. Whatever, back to getting woker.
The guy’s order pops up on the preparation screen, and it isn’t long before it’s put together. Since it’s so empty, you are tasked with running the tray to its designated table. For a moment, as you approach, you think it’s Tim somehow. You shrug it off though, dismissing yourself for being a hungry man thinking of bread.
So it really shouldn’t surprise you when you place the tray on the table and look up to see the Devil Himself. Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne. That motherfucker.
“Hey, you! Did ya miss me~?”
He teases, stupid ass smirk on his stupid ass face. His arm is draped over the booth seats, legs crossed in front of him. The mask drops at your lack of enthusiasm. Or… anything at all.
“Heh, you uh.. you look kinda traumatized. Are you.. ok..?”
You don’t notice his eyebrows furrowing slightly, the underlying tremble of his voice, or the way he leans into you. You don’t even hear him talk at all.
“…Timothy….”
Your voice comes out quite odd. It’s uncertain, hollow. Like you don’t believe what you’re seeing is real, or like you’re just in a flashback.
You only snap out of it when he stands all the way up and puts his hands on your shoulders, staring you down intensely. His worried investigations are foggy to you, the reality of it all still settling in.
“…Tim..?!”
“Yes, yes that’s me! It’s Tim! Hey, hey hey hey look at me. Look at me!”
His hands cradle your face, pulling you gently towards him. He presses his forehead against yours, biting his cheek to keep himself together.
“…Tim…!”
You wrap your arms around him tightly, burying your face in his neck. He beats you to it by a margin, the two of you squeezing each other at the back of a Culver’s.
“I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much and I’m so, so sorry. I’m not going anywhere this time.”
“What..?”
He sits you down in front of him, holding your hands across the table.”
“I quit. I don’t work for my dad anymore. I don’t even have to, I have more money than I can ever spend in a hundred thousand lifetimes.”
Oh. Right. Billionaire. The enemy is always closer than you think.
“..Oh…. So… what now, then…? You’re… actually not leaving again? Where are you going to stay, what are you going to do??”
He just shrugged. His livelihood in question and all he does in response is shrug.
“Tim… Ugh. I have to get back to work. I’m off in 2 hours, I’ll.. see you then. If you’re good to your word.”
As you walk away, he watches you like a puppy getting abandoned by his owner in the rain. You don’t even look back. So, he sighs, and opens his laptop to a google doc titled ‘My plan to finally settle down with the loml and make them mine’.
ykw fuck you guys (/nsrs) you get a cliffhanger. i’ve been cooking this too long it’s gonna burn if i do it all in one piece (one piece you say?)
