#i live with my parents but my mom is having a horrible flair up of RA so she's bedbound and can't help me at all and dad is the only one

[curioscurio]

Most of my sinus infection has cleared up besides the occasional cough and irritated throat but now this ear infection.... everything hurts can I please have a break before I have to go back to work just a day without pain so I can clean up my sicknest without feeling like ass

[talyas-train-blog]

Can I please have some headcanons on The Star Tugs? (And maybe also the Z-Stacks if you want to)

Since you didn't really specify what you wanted i figured I delve into their personal lives a little.

⚠️Warnings⚠️ talks of mental illness and disabilities

Btw any talk of anxiety, autism, PTSD ect are from my personal experiences with it and how I interpret characters and the way they act bc of my past.

Star Fleet

Tencents

Tencents has always struggled with anger issues since he was little.

He wouldn't hurt people but he had issues with a short temper and short patience which would result in him throwing wooden blocks when he was little and snapping and kicking pieces of Wood around the port now and punching walls and wood slabs.

He punched the side of his boat once, dented the damn thing and almost shattered his hand. Hercules wrapped his hands to stop the bleeding and had a very long discussion about anger management with TenCents after.

Tencents also has partial paralysis in his right arm and hand after the munitions accident but it isn't horrible. Only when it flairs up under anxiety or anger.

Also struggles with anxiety and slight PTSD after the Munitions accident.

Big Mac

Also suffers from Anger issues but to a higher extreme than TenCents.

But Big Mac also has had more time to get control of the anger issues.

Tends to take his anger out by cussing in his native language

Oj

Struggles with anxiety, and slight PTSD from almost being scrapped a few times

Has gotten help for both of the conditions and has learned to help himself calm down when things get bad.

Likes to paint or bake to help himself calm down and always ends up giving someone something.

Tophat

Suffers from Bipolar disorder and probably has abandonment issues.

Bipolar Disorder runs on his dads side of the family which is the side he takes after.

He has abandonment issues because growing up he was always held up to his older brother Hercules achievements and accomplishments and eventually his parents basically stopped paying attention to him.

He doesn't really have a way to calm himself down except for storming away from the situation and moping.

Rarely he has a cigarette to calm down to Hercules' dismay.

Warrior

Suffers from ADD, potentially Autism and a minor case of short term memory loss (stml)

His ADD makes it hard for him to learn and grasp onto things, paired with a learning disability he always struggles with school and learning.

His STML more or less comes through in his inability to remember how to say things and things like forgetting names a lot and how to certain things.

He lives with his brother Big Mac so he doesn't get hurt and in turn Warrior actually watches over Big Mac.

Side note when you get Warrior on a topic he is  passionate about you'll see that cery sweet and charming side come out.

Hercules

Anxiety, Depression, and PTSD

His anxiety stems from his home life as a child. It runs on his moms side of the family and he takes after her. It got worse throughout his early preteen and all throughout his teenage years because he was held up to high standards and felt horrible about how often his parents forgot his little brother (Tophat)

His depression and PTSD stems from seeing his dad almost die and struggle with alcoholism for a while.

His depression and PTSD also stems from being in the navy.

This poor man has been shot a few times and has been caught by fire and fallen off boats into frigid waters. He's lost close friends and seen a lot.

It doesnt bother him all that often as he has gotten help and has learned from OJ but when it flares up the only people that seem to help are his brother and son.

Sunshine

Separation anxiety, and a lisp

Sunshine has gone through a lot and been separated from people he trusts multiple times so when he does warn up he gets attached and it too worried to go to far from his family or friends.

Sunny was born with a slight lisp, he has always had it and never was ashamed of it.

Hercules and Big mac are helping him with his anxieties and he's gotten much better.

Z-stacks

Zorran

Anger issues.

Has always struggled with anger issues and he was brought up in a house where he basically got whatever he wanted and his mom wouldn't discipline him but his dad did.

Hasnt done anything to get help or try and work on anger management and has no real interest in it.

Most likely has other underlying conditions.

Zebedee

Depression and potential OCD

Zebby had a very rough home life, his dad passed when he was young and his mom worked multiple jobs while raising him, his baby brother and baby sister.

His mom raised him to be responsible, respectful, hard working and most importantly loving.

His depression makes the last part a little difficult as he struggles to let his guard down.

His potential OCD shows when he gets upset when he tries to do things on his own or gets very upset when something isn't done exactly how he wants it.

It's not a very severe case which is why it's kind of hard to say if he has it or not but it's there.

Zak

Anger issues

That's it, he's struggled with anger issues since he was a teen.

After being bullied he got involved in a group of bad kids and tampered with drugs and became semi aggressive afterwards.

Zug

there's nothing he really struggles with. He's just kind of a sneaky shit head.

Zip

ADHD

ADHD runs in his family and it's very common in the men in the family so it was expected that he had it.

Zip and his little brother Zaxary were homeless growing up so by the time his ADHD really started to show through they didn't have the chance to diagnose him.

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Cliff’s Kid (Part 2): Parental!Cliff Booth

Trigger warning: Homophobia/Biphobia, Conversion Camp, abusive mother

Requested by @i-do-not-know-what-my-life-is

OC character: Diana

Pt. 1 Here :)

@tealaquinn @frozenhuntress67 @juxt4p0siti0n @kwyloz

@what-the--curtains @taikawho ___________________________

***One Year Later***

You were over at Rick's, with your dad, and Diana. You, Diana, and Francesca were sitting by the pool, as she showed you the newest edition of Italian Vogue. She was more of a cool aunt, often taking you and Diana out shopping or to the beach. Rick was on a floatie in the pool, shades on, tanning a bit for an upcoming interview, while Cliff was mixing a few drinks. Rick started landing big roles in Hollywood's next big hits after the exposure he got from the whole 'hippy incident,' as he called it. In turn, your dad got to do the stunts in those new blockbusters. Cliff himself got offered roles in movies and show, but he refused to do much more than a few interviews. He liked being Rick's stuntman, and was happy with the quiet-ish life he had. One thing was different, he moved out of the trailer to a small place in LA with the money from all the new roles. He wanted to give you a place that felt like a home. And...somewhere you could actually study. There was a yard, which made Brandy very happy. So that year was the happiest year of your life. Until that day...

Officers burst in, along with a man in a suit. 

"What the hell?!" Rick almost had a heart attack, being real fed up with people just showing up in his yard, after all. Cliff stopped in his tracks. Francesca said somethings only you and Diana had learned to understand, which would make a sailor blush. "Cliff Booth?" "Yeah." The man in the suit stepped up with a few documents, handing them over to Cliff. "My client had charged you with custodial interference,  child-endangerment, and kidnapping." "Your client? Wh-" He stopped. "No... No. She gave custody to her sister Lena, and I took over last year!" You turned around, "What do you mean custody?!" Cliff sighed, looking at you with weary eyes as he was restrained by the police. "Dad?!" You called out, but you were being pulled away, "DAD!" You needed answers. First of all, what was happening? Why?! Everything was perfect for once! Most importantly, what did they mean with the custody? All you knew was that your dad was charged with murdering your mom, and custody went to your aunt. But then...if what these people were saying was true, then that meant... "M-mom..." Your voice cracked, and your knees were weak, as though you'd seen a ghost. She was standing there, in the driveway, and ran to you, instantly smothering you. You pulled away, in total shock and disbelief, not even able to form a single sentence. You didn't know who to trust, who you should be mad at... "YOU WON'T GET AWAY WITH THIS!" Cliff shouted as he was shoved into a patrol car. "No, Cliff. You don't get it." Your mother shook her head, "You won't get away with encouraging this...this degenerate life our daughter's been living!" You turned to face her, and pulled away, "What are you talking about?! What's happening?!" "You and...that." She pointed at Diana who was standing by Rick and Francesca, shaking. "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT! YOU...I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU! YOU-" "Let's go." She pulled you away from everything you knew and loved. "Y/N I'LL FIND A WAY! I PROMISE!" Cliff shouted just before the police car took him away. That was the last you saw of him, Rick, Francesca, and Diana. Your mother pulled you out of school. She took you away from the beaches. You took you away from Diana, and the only people you'd ever call family. And for what? Maybe you would have understood if she had some selfish semblance of wanting to reconnect with you in such a drastic way...but that wasn't it. No, that would've been too good to be true. She was just like your aunt...maybe even worse. So far out of touch with reality, and you. She sent you to conversion camp. ***ONE MONTH LATER*** It was late, you were standing around outside, trying to forget all the horrible things drilled into your head that day. You looked up at the sky, wondering why nothing ever seemed to go your way. "Y/n!" You shut your eyes, as a tear streamed out, thinking it was all in your head. "Y/n!" That was too loud to be in your head. You turned around, "Dad?!" "Hey kid," He ran to you, throwing his protective arms around you as he swayed side to side, "Are you ok? Did they hurt you?! Huh?" He pulled away only enough to see your face, now with tears treaming down your cheek. "Ok, ok." He sighed, knowing it was best to get away from that place as soon as possible,  "Let's go. Come on, we'll talk about it later," He had a folder in his hand full of papers. "What's that?" He grinned, "Well, I got me a damn good lawyer, and now I got you back." "Really?" You looked up at him like he was your hero, and the smile on your face broke his heart, knowing what had gone on in the past month. "Your mom's not gonna be botherin' you anymore. I promise." "Do you hear that?" "Hear what?" He looked around, only hearing a distant revving engine. Suddenly, he tore off his sunglasses, and his eyes widened, "SHIT. NO NO NO NO N-" A car suddenly rammed through the chainlink fence, followed by repeated honking. Rick looked out the window and shouted, "LET'S GO! COME ON!" You were not expecting that...but then again, your uncle had a flair for the dramatic. You turned to your dad, "This....this is why you drive for him, isn't it?" "Yup." He stared at the scratched hood he'd have to fix up, and sighed, "Just about sums it, kiddo." "Y/N, COME ON!" You turned to look at the car, and saw Diana and Francesca waving out the window. You smiled seeing her again. Rick looked visibly confused, and hyped up. "WERE WE N-NOT DOING THIS ANYMORE?! WASN'T THIS THE PLAN?!" "No!" Cliff shook his head, "I GOT CUSTODY!" "WELL WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO....You called didn't you." "Yeah...well... Since you're here anyway," he turned to you with a grin, "Get your friends. We're goin'." "Wait, really?" You looked at him, wondering if he wasn't worried about getting caught over that. "Damn right I am." " But-" Cliff smirked a little, "They can't catch all of us." You could not have been more proud of your dad at that moment. That man really wasn't scared of anything. And he loved his kid more than anything, and it showed. About fifteen minutes later, you were sitting in the car with all the people you loved most, going  down that California highway. You could see the ocean from the road, the salty breeze coming through the windows. None of you could believe you'd made it out, but you were damn glad you did. Cliff glanced at you through the rearview mirror, with that concerned-dad-smile. That was his way of promising everything was going to be ok from then on. And knowing him, (and your Uncle Rick) you believed it.

[olympiansally]

13, 14, 15, 16 Horrible asks, please?

The ask game @seventhfracture is talking about is this!

Thank you for sending these sweetie!!

13: Do you hate anyone at the moment?

Ohhhh yeah! It’s healthy to have a little hatred jsiwksiakskwkk but it’s mostly like very despicable ppl like ugh my countries fascist dictator “president” or hm jeff bezos and other real like super villain types like that who have all the evil and none of the super villain flair lmao but there are some other ppl who piss me off immensely for smaller reasons like one asshole teacher, a stuck up piece of shit from my class that sabotaged our group project because they lost on the theme, my mom’s homophobic friend... alright maybe i hate quite a few ppl alright alright i can be bitchy jaiwksiwkakaia

14: Do you miss someone?

Aaahhh yes!! A lot of ppl actually and in very different ways! I’m desperately missing my family right now because covid made me unable to travel to visit them so i haven’t seen them in over a year and i usually try to travel to see them pretty often! I have a pretty big family but everyone other than my sister and my parents lives in my home state so i’m missing them a lot currently!! I also miss ppl that i used to be close to but am not anymore, but that might be my romantic self wanting life long friendships and idealizing things from the past so who knows kajskwksisk

15: Have any pets?

Yes!! They don’t live with me but they will always be mine <3 which probably sounds confusing lmao but my sister moved out earlier this year and our dogs went with her :( but it’s ok! I visit them all the time and my babies miss me too but that just means they get super clingy when i visit and i’m very ok with that!!

Here, you can have a photo of the happy little criminal baby and the grumpy but loving and well behaved old lady featuring a sock they stole on the background jsiwksisksisksks

16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment?

Hmm to be honest i’m not feeling all that great :( i’m mostly okay but i’m a bit meh i guess? I had a bit of a hard time this week and i’ve been feeling a bit sad or just unmotivated i think? But i’ll be okay soon!! I just have to try to do some fun stuff and cheer myself up and it will be fine!!

Sorry to give a bit of a downer response but i didn’t want to lie :(

But i promise i’ll be back to my goofy silly self soon jsiwjsiaisisksia

Thank you so much for sending these 🥰

[3rdgymbros]

two, now three.

Summary: He’d seen the blue lines already; they’d appeared almost immediately when he’d taken the pregnancy tests, but that had been in the morning when the light wasn’t good, taken quietly as Dazai had slumbered peacefully in their shared bed. Chuuya couldn’t have been sure it was a trick of the light, or a figment of his imagination.

Pairing: Osamu Dazai x Nakahara Chuuya ( Bungou Stray Dogs )

Author’s notes: Okay,,, so this work has MPreg, as well as a pregnant Chuuya and Dazai being a nice husband. This is my second soukoku fanfiction, and I'm still nervous about posting, so please be gentle when reviewing. Reviews fuel me to write more, and I already have a collection of "Aya as Soukoku's love child" fics planned!

Read on AO3!

He’d seen the blue lines already; they’d appeared almost immediately when he’d taken the pregnancy tests, but that had been in the morning when the light wasn’t good, taken quietly as Dazai had slumbered peacefully in their shared bed. Chuuya couldn’t have been sure it was a trick of the light, or a figment of his imagination. Now, he holds up the first test and squints at the lines.

Positive. A clear, dark positive. Same with the second one. He hasn’t made a mistake.

Chuuya sinks to the floor, ignoring the cold and damp, staring at the tests on his lap.

He can’t breathe. Panic wraps fingers around his throat and squeezes tight. The terror, again, of having something to lose. He isn’t perfect or good. He was meant for taking lives, not bringing one into this world. And he’s scared of warping this child so badly that it ends up hating its parents.

A baby. He’s going to be a mom. There’s a baby, nestled safely within him, fed by his blood, swimming in fluid. Half of him and half of Dazai. The thought plants a vision in his mind, a tiny child with Dazai’s dark cocoa coloured curls and eyes, fair and beautiful in his arms.

The panic dulls to a small point, the noose around his neck loosening ever so slightly. His baby. Their baby.

He puts his hands on his stomach. Chuuya exhales a ragged breath.

There isn’t a good way or a good time to tell Dazai, but Chuuya does it anyway, on a Saturday as the early morning sunlight streams in through the kitchen windows.

He inhales, and pretends he’s brave. “I’m pregnant.”

The silence stretches out. In the bright light of day, Chuuya sees a wall between them, with no way to scale it.

“Dazai?”

“A daddy,” Dazai says. As if he can’t quite believe it. “I’m going to be a daddy.”

Dazai puts one hand behind his neck and pulls him towards him. And then they’re kissing. Dazai’s mouth is soft and familiar, and the kiss leaves Chuuya breathless, his lips tingling. He can feel the imprint of a smile against his mouth.

Chuuya can’t help it. The relief and the happiness that washes over him is so strong that he laughs, the sound catching in his throat a little. “Yes, a daddy.”

“We’re going to have a baby!” Dazai picks Chuuya up and whirls him around in his arms. Chuuya laughs out loud, his feet flying out behind him and narrowly missing the stove.

All those weeks of anxiety melt away, dissolving like sugar in a cup of hot tea. For once, Chuuya’s not anxious or worried, he’s just happy, held in Dazai’s arms, buoyed up in a warm, bright place.

The morning sickness is new.

Being pregnant is new. But the nausea is constant, dragging him down, stopping him from thinking properly. For the last few weeks, Chuuya’s been rudely awoken at 5 a.m. to run to the toilet and vomit. At work, the merest whiff of blood makes him want to throw up; he’s been stuck working at headquarters for the time being. Eating supposedly helps, but he isn’t ever hungry.

Chuuya wakes up again, more nausea swimming through his veins than blood. He shoves his way out of Dazai’s arms – from perfection to cage in a matter of breaths – and streaks to the toilet.

He only just makes it in time before the contents in his stomach make a reappearance in a violent and noisy gush. He retches again, and again. There’s nothing left of his dinner from the previous night, but his stomach doesn’t seem to care. His hands tremble violently, his eyes watering and dimmed.

As he’s done for the past weeks, Dazai follows him, holding Chuuya close, murmuring nonsense words and reassurances, keeping burnished curls out of his face, waiting until the breath returns to Chuuya’s lungs.

The sickness is abating a bit, so Chuuya flushes the toilet with a scowl and wipes his mouth with a wad of toilet paper. Nausea still throbs dully in his stomach, but that is nothing new. “This is your fault and I hate you.”

“I love you too, Chuuya.” Dazai all but coos, still holding him in his arms.

Dazai talks to Chuuya’s stomach every night, even though he isn’t even showing yet. Dazai’s face is inches away from his stomach, his words making caresses of warm air on Chuuya’s skin. Dazai prattles on about everything and anything – from his day at work, to how Kunikida-kun wouldn’t give him a break, until Chuuya almost feels bad for the baby, who’s unable to have a moment of peace.

He deadpans, “You do know that the baby can’t hear you right now.”

“Mommy didn’t mean that,” Dazai assures the baby quickly, and Chuuya has to bite back a smile.

They’ve talked about baby names a long time ago, almost jokingly, lying together tangled in sheets and limbs, Dazai’s head pillowed against Chuuya’s shoulder, both of them bare-limbed and loose and relaxed. Dazai had always liked Shuuji, and Chuuya liked the name Aya, beautiful and colorful, yet so simple and elegant.

Chuuya brings up the topic of names again, threading fingers through hair as soft as silk. “Do you have any names in mind?”

There’s a beat of hesitation.

“Odasaku,” Dazai says, barely a whisper, and so soft that Chuuya thinks it’s just a figment of his imagination. He’s smiling, but it’s the saddest smile he’s ever seen, and his eyes are so far away, memories and sadness clouding them, wounds only made sharper with the passing of time.

The silence stretches on, but it’s comfortable and peaceful, tinged with melancholy and everything that goes unsaid but is instinctively understood, even without words.

“I think he’d like that,” Chuuya says, equally soft, and slips his hand into Dazai’s.

( They decide to name her Aya, if it’s a girl. )

Chuuya can hardly believe that this picture here on the screen in front of him is of their baby. Snub nose, delicate, intricate spine, legs curled up to fit into his body.

“At twenty weeks, Baby’s about the size of a banana,” Says the technician cheerfully. “The measurements look good. Everything looks good.”

“The baby’s so big,” Dazai says, gazing at the window into Chuuya’s body. His eyes are wider, his face softening in wonder, and it’s so unexpectedly tender that Chuuya feels his throat tightening.

“With all the food I’ve been eating lately, she’d better be.” Chuuya grumbles, but there’s no real heat behind it, only a mixture of fondness and exasperation.

“I was about to tell you the sex of the baby, but you guessed it.” Says the technician, typing something into her computer. “It’s a girl. A perfectly healthy girl.”

“Aya it is,” Chuuya whispers under his breath, and once again, he’s drawn to Dazai again instead of the screen. He’s never seen him looking so rapt. So in love.

( “We’ll have a boy next time.”

 “Next time?” )

Aya’s a kicker. She’s fussy and demanding, kicking Chuuya with every step. Chuuya’s been feeling sore all day, harsh pains cutting through his abdomen whenever she strikes. Dazai likes to joke that Aya’s inherited Chuuya’s strength, and he’s not mistaken.

“Listen, kid,” Chuuya mutters, his voice as firm as he can make it. “I know we settled on Aya, but I swear I will let Dazai name you if you don’t stop kicking me. And knowing him, it’ll be something stupid, and I’m not going to stop him. Do you want that?”

Chuuya’s answer is another taunting kick.

( It looks like Aya’s also inherited Dazai’s nasty personality. )

“I can’t believe this,” Dazai whines dramatically, settling himself more comfortably on the sofa, so that his head is pillowed on Chuuya’s lap. Rolling azure eyes at his flair for theatrics, Chuuya runs his fingers through soft curls, adjusting his husband in one smooth motion so that Dazai isn’t pressing down on his bladder. Dazai is warm, warmer than the August night, and Chuuya closes his eyes, soaking in the warm, intimate moment. “Aya, how could you kick for everyone but me?”

“Now she stops,” Chuuya says, pointedly addressing his swollen belly. “Finally tired yourself out, have you?”

“Aya – it’s Daddy.” Dazai leans over so that his face is inches away from Chuuya’s stomach. “Kick for Daddy!”

Aya, either responding to Chuuya’s exasperation or to her father’s voice, kicks Chuuya right in the ribs, and he winces. Dazai feels it, and he sits upright immediately, his eyes wide with surprise and awe.

“She moved, she moved, oh, Aya!” Dazai addresses Chuuya’s belly. “That’s my girl!”

Aya distinctly kicks. Dazai laughs.

Chuuya inhales, a sharp intake of breath; Aya’s been fussy all day, and now that Dazai’s around, the mischief seems to have been amped up one thousand fold. “She’s definitely your child.”

Dazai’s smirk has Chuuya’s toes curling.

Chuuya wakes up alone.

He wakes up gasping, his heart thumping wildly, an out-of-control drum rhythm. For one horrible second, he thinks that Dazai’s left again – without a word, without so much as a goodbye – but then he remembers that Dazai’s on a case with the Armed Detective Agency, and the relief floods him with so much force that it renders him dizzy.

He switches off his alarm and lies in bed, watching the milky white light steal slowly over the walls, waiting for his heartbeat to go back to normal. A swath of sunlight ticks upward over the scan photograph of their baby. Chuuya’s pinned it to the dressing table, a little white body, floating in a sea of black and grey. He’s already memorized it, every curve, every shape, and places a hand over his bump, imagining the baby floating in fluids, completely safe.

Under his hand and inside his body, Aya shifts. A stretching, an adjustment.

She nudges him, quiet today, and Chuuya wonders if they’re connected somehow, if she can sense his mood and the dullness of his eyes.

“I know,” Chuuya says. “I miss him, too.”

He stares out the window, but his little nudger doesn’t respond. For a minute, two minutes, nothing happens, while the early morning sun fills the house slowly, frothing upwards like champagne and Chuuya exhales a breath tinged with melancholy, now alone with his thoughts. Dazai won’t come back, he’s left us alone again.

“He’ll come back soon.” Chuuya presses a hand over his bump of his belly – even though he knows the baby is completely unaware of his fear and what’s going on – he still feels the need to soothe his child. “He’s at work. He’ll be back in time for dinner. He said so, remember? You’ll hear his annoying voice in the evening.”

Aya nudges him. Fleetingly, Chuuya sees a ripple moving near his hand.

A bubble of joy bursts inside Chuuya. If this is his baby offering comfort in the only way she knows how, he’ll take it.

It’s Chuuya’s idea to paint the walls of the guest room, now turned into a nursery for Aya.

Walls of light sunshine yellow, the colour of delight. She should have sunshine and music and happiness all of her life, and there’s a protective, deep-rooted maternal instinct of some sort, that would have Chuuya rip to pieces with his bare hands and teeth whoever robbed Aya of any of that.

Dazai is wrestling with the new can of paint, trying to get it open, and Chuuya’s laughing at how Dazai struggles, and suddenly, the lid flies open, and somehow Dazai ends up lobbing a glob of Copacabana at him. He manages to nail Chuuya right on his cheek – his aim had always been perfect, even when they were in the Port Mafia together, and his skills haven’t deteriorated with the passing of the years.

Amazingly, Dazai starts laughing, high and musical and airy all at once. Pointing and laughing, at the paint trickling down Chuuya’s cheek, now splattered all over his shirt.

Two can play at this game, Chuuya thinks, and with difficulty, he bends to dig out a big handful of paint and flicks it at Dazai. It hits him in the side of his head, right in his nest of cocoa-brown curls.

Dazai shrieks and then they’re ducking around the room, hiding behind the cot, the rocker, trying to make a grab for the paint while the other isn’t looking, using paintbrushes like catapults to peg each other.

( Their clothes are ruined, and they’ll have to buy another bucket of paint, but the soft kisses that Dazai presses to his lips and neck as they wash up in the bathtub makes it more than worth it. )

All things considered, being thirty weeks pregnant is fairly awful. Chuuya can barely fit in the shower, he can’t put on his steel-toed boots with laces, he huffs and puffs whenever he walks or climbs stairs, his ankles are swollen. There are itchy red stretch marks on his belly, he has to go to the toilet every five minutes and his back has been aching continuously for two days.

The only upside to it all is that it means Aya’s well on her way to being born.

He goes shopping for clothes with Kouyou. He’s seen what Dazai’s brought home for Aya, and he’s not impressed. Well, maybe a little, at Dazai’s ability to plunge his hands into a rack and pick out the most flamboyant pieces of clothing known to mankind.

The boutique is exactly what Chuuya’s pictured. It’s painted white inside, white walls and off-white floor-boards, with tiny beautiful clothes hanging everywhere. Teddy bears. Cuddly lambs. Handmade rag dolls. Everything safe and soft, in the color of jewels and nature.

The little clothes. The tops and dresses that he’ll pull over a downy head, the sleeves that he’ll arrange on a pair of chubby arms. The small shoes that he’ll fix over the tiny feet with that special curling reflex when you run your finger up a bare sole.

“A few more weeks till Aya’s here, hm?” Kouyou hums, gliding around the store non-committedly, picking up and eyeing a knitted green cardigan. “Are you excited?”

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Chuuya’s radiant, almost glowing as he adds a hat and some white pajamas to the pile of small clothes, which is now quite tall. “We finished the nursery yesterday.”

Red-painted lips curve upwards in a smile. “You seem happy. That’s good.”

And he is. Chuuya’s happy and contented, and this is his one small slice of happiness in a messed up world that he wouldn’t trade for anything.

Chuuya meets his sister’s eyes. “I was hoping you’d be her godmother.”

“I would be honoured.” She says, and wraps him up in a tight hug.

Aya comes into the world bloodied and howling at the top of her lungs.

She’s almost three weeks early. Chuuya likes to think that Aya’s inherited his temper and impatience, unable to wait, eager already to see the world. Just as eager to see them as they are to finally see her.

There is an eternity of constant, unadulterated pain that burns worse than the fire that of using Corruption, and a feeling of heat all through his body. The screams scrape his throat raw, mostly filthy curses for Dazai not to touch him ever again, all bared teeth and venom and claws that Chuuya spits out in the heat of the moment as Aya rips him apart from the inside out.

Then, nothing.

Nothing but a sniffle and a hiccup, impossibly high-pitched and small. And then a wail. The most beautiful sound that he’s ever heard.

She’s crying for her mother, her father, and it’s the most wonderful, the most terrible, sound in the world. The baby’s been thrust into a cold, confusing world, and she wants comfort, warmth, the people who love her the most.

“My baby,” Chuuya tries to say, every fiber in his body itching to hold her.

Not yet, they tell him, and this time, it’s Chuuya who wants to scream. Aya shouts in the midwife’s arms. She’s all red legs and arms, hands splayed, crimson curls and an open mouth. She cries, the strongest sound ever, full of life and health.

She screams when they cut the umbilical cord, screams when they weigh her and take her measurements, screams when she’s being wiped down and bundled up into a blanket.

Aya only stops screaming, her cries filtering away into nothing when she’s nestled in his arms. And whatever doubts he may have had about himself – the blood on his hands, how badly he would fuck this up – all vanish the moment he’s handed the hot little squirmy body, still smelling of blood and fluid, with her slick of red hair and the tiny, perfect limbs. Then he knows that he’ll fight and fight for this child, no matter what. That he’ll keep Aya safe.

Her eyes are half-open; her nose is a smudge. She looks like Dazai sometimes when he wakes up in the mornings. She’s all quiet smiles and gurgles, an unfurled mouth, squashed red cheeks, toothless gums. Aya blinks her eyes open; they land on Chuuya, taking him in, as he memorizes every crease of her face. Her eyes are bright green, shaped exactly like Dazai’s.

Aya smiles.

She’s still blissfully quiet and smiling when Chuuya hands the wriggling bundle to Dazai, settled beside him on the mattress. He watches the awe on his husband’s face, the way he instantly cuddles Aya to his chest. Dazai strokes a finger down Aya’s cheek, and she turns her head to gaze trustingly up at him. She squeals and flails, rosy lips puckering and tiny fists waving, nearly giving him a black eye.

“Just like your mother, huh?” Dazai remarks, the words clogging in his throat. His eyes are glassy. “Not even a day old and you’re already hitting me.”

She’s strong and real and alive and only minutes old. And she’s theirs.

Aya, aya, aya, Chuuya thinks, and in this moment, his world is no bigger than his husband and their child.

[kingofthenorth49]

Oh Canada....

One needs to look no further than volume 4 of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada entitled “Canada’s Residential Schools: Missing Children and Unmarked Burials” to know the depth of the tragedy that occurred under the watch of Trudeaus own father and other “leaders” of Canada.

3,200 children died at these facilities according to the report, published in 2015. The names of these children are published on Canada’s registers of conformed deaths of named and unnamed Students.

Yes, there’s an official registry of names, has been for some time.

In 2006 the Indian Residential School Settlement Agreement set up the framework for the Truth and Reconciliation Committee and the subsequent investigations into the deaths at these schools. Most of these children died from tuberculosis, pneumonia, and influenza, and as a matter of fact, deaths at the schools multiplied 9 times during the 1918 Spanish flu pandemic.

It’s just history folks; your local library has books full of it.

But yet you’d think we’d just uncovered this horrific part of history wouldn’t you, especially if your one source of the truth is social media, but as Winston Churchill said, “Never waster a good crisis”, and especially one that plays well to help aid in the death of a national identity.

Flair for the dramatic or just reading the tea leaves? You decide, I’m just throwing it out there for discussion. Let’s face it, if you were to do a trip o’round the world you’d see there are many shaming campaigns afoot right now, causing once proud nations to call into question their virtue.

Sound familiar?

Cancel the world. Burn it down.

Why don’t we all stop for a minute and think through these things a bit more rationally before we start re-living life from 100 years ago because that’s where we are going if we keep the accelerator pressed down on this type of thinking.

First of all know this. I believe the oppression of any person, group of people, or belief of people is wrong where it does not fundamentally opposite moral and legal standards of the society represented. I believe we must hold a set of cultural norms as a collective in order to prevent anarchy and have some semblance of working towards a collective good.

We need to stop allowing Those Who Think They Know Best control over our minds. Folks, you only needed to watch the “Trust in media” piece the Mainstream media ran a number of years back to see the level of collusion being forced to keep the narrative going in the direction Those Who Think They Know Best want it to. This isn’t a conspiracy theory, this is what is actually going on right now, whether you choose to accept it or not, we are watching the biggest coup in world history.

I know, the ol’ gourd is swollen inside the thin aluminum sheeted noggin cap again right?

Ok, so ask yourself why then are they announcing all these native graves years after the government spent millions finding and cataloguing them as part of a healing effort with the indigenous community?

Sure, they may find more graves, but ask yourself why would they time it as they have, during a Plandemic and leading into a “Great Reset” where the goal is to create a One World Government and eliminate countries and races.

Canada needs a black eye right now, much like the USA did. How can our countries be destroyed if we love ourselves and feel good about the good we do in the world? But no, we need to be reeled in, our morals questioned, our status on the world stage called out for the atrocities our forefathers committed in the name of progress. That’s what Those Who Think They Know Best plan to see done, to shame us into submission.

Canada, the strong and free.

Wait, check that. Canada, the home of government mandated indigenous child murder.

Got a ring to it don’t you think?

Right about here is where the government led news agencies would clip the sound bite to see my cancellation clause met, but continue to hear me out.

I’m very sad about the concept of residential schools, and very embarrassed that my forefathers would think for one minute that taking children from parents to “re-educate” them to “their way” of thinking. My commitment to the world is to do everything in my ability to make sure atrocities like this never happen again, that when I see one group of people attempting to subvert another group through deceptive tactics for the purposes of nefarious means, I will scream from the tree tops and do everything in my power to prevent it from happening.

Including wiring rants to let people know when bad things are going on that history will judge us badly for.

Like now.

So as you sit here on a half cancelled Canada day, as people are questioning if they can go for a walk in a park or cross an imaginary line to hug their dying mom, all the while being told that they are a horrible person who has benefitted from a society that preyed on everyone and everything to reach the top of the hill, try and keep in focus that we are all infallible humans who only become animals when we forget how to be human first, and when we allow others’ to control our minds and the message.

If we want to ensure not one more child is ever harmed in the care of others, if we want to be the society we truly want to be then remember one thing.

It’s within us to do good or evil, or to permit it.

Happy Canada Day 2021.

Jim Out.