What does it mean to be human? cause when i see you, i see an explosion in the sky, i see a supernova, i see the reflection of the full moon in the ocean and when i touch you, i am touching the beginning of everything. i see you for what you are, and quite simply, my love, you are my universe.
I know I'm lame as fuck but I actually enjoyed all their snaps from Dakota to Aaron to zaks like it was pure entertaining making me laugh no hate laugh but like fun ha have laugh. I'm glad dakotas fitting in just fine.
I like their snaps too! Tho I don’t follow Dakota. I like how Zak seems to be more like his old self on there.
made you feel at home from the moment you passed the door into her town house.
She’d already set a bed for you, organised towels, freed space in the fridge
and even bought seashell hand soaps to compliment your bathroom. You were
opposed to her going out of her way to welcome you, but she stubbornly
A bit of smut lite. Oh, and your best friend has a mouth like a sailor but it’s me, so we know there’s always a good chance of adult language. ;)
There was a sweet pleasant scent in the warm air and a sense of peace. There was only one place where you found those things together upon waking and you savored it. The soft and fragrant bed beneath you tickled your exposed skin with every gentle breeze. Hair fluttered over your face, the smell of your shampoo mixing with the flowery meadow nearby and that unmistakeable worn leather with what you could only describe as Dean. Sunlight flickered behind your eyelids and you pictured the tree you knew so well.
A shadow fell across your face and you opened your eyes. His head blocked the sun and the light surrounded his face creating an odd effect.
“Hey, sweetheart. It’s about time.” He held out his hand your eyes finally adjusted, the smirk on his face filling you with a different kind of warmth.
You grabbed his hand and he pulled you up. “You’ve been waiting for me?”
He slipped his arm around your waist and guided you forward. “Not too long.”
The meadow spread out endlessly just like it always had but as Dean walked you through the flowers and tall grass, there was a rise in the ground. You glanced at him as you climbed the new addition but he revealed nothing except for the smirk still playing at the corner of his mouth. At the top of the hill, a blanket was spread out with a small basket and a bottle wine but you didn’t really notice. You were taken back by the breathtaking view of an ocean reaching out to the horizon.
Dean slipped his hand into yours then stepped around you and knelt down beside the basket. “You said you’d always wanted to see the ocean.”
“Dean. You…” Gazing at the sun’s reflection stretching across the top of the water, your throat constricted. You ripped your gaze away to look at him and air rushed from your lungs. He was still kneeling looking up at you with an interesting mix of wonder and pride. “You did this?”
“I told you we can mold this place because it’s ours. You can do more than just heal in here.” He squeezed your hand and tugged, “come here.”
You knelt in front of him and let go of his hand to wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you.” You leaned in and put every ounce of feeling that you couldn’t express into the kiss. He responded immediately but broke away before you were ready.
In between performances, I paint. This is a mural I design and produced this weekend in the heart of Washington DC. The dialog happening around the mascot issue is ongoing, and often times repetitive and exhausting. The thing I love about art is the commentary mixes it up nicely by offering perspective not seen in the mass media rhetoric concerning the issue. You can’t buy us off. You can’t tell us we don’t matter, no matter how nicely you dress it up. You can’t dismiss the history of our people and the way America has considered us, treated us, and continues to dismisses us. Your efforts to eradicate Indigenous people has failed, and we will forever be a thorn in the side of those unwilling to yield to Indigenous people’s place in the world and on this continent. There are bigger issues in Indian Country, but few issues illustrate so publicly the inept relationship America has with Indian Country. If it’s such a small issue, then change it. If you want to truly honor us, honor us by changing the name, and taking Indigenous mascots out of the mix. Commodify yourselves, your own history, your own culture. Respect Indigenous people, Indigenous culture, Indigenous language, Indigenous traditions, Indigenous identity and Indigenous opinion. #changethename we are #notyourmascot.
I have been meaning to write more on here to tell some of the stories that have taken place during the course of my Last Indian exploits. Today was a good time. I set out to go to the Mall. I won’t name which mall so as to not incriminate anyone, but the mall nonetheless. Simple enough. The idea was to get in, actually buy some stuff for my wife for Christmas, and document the hoopla, the shopping, the window shopping and of course, the interactions. Dakota, the photographer I have been working with closely, is supportive of anything I want to do, if not a pure unadulterated enabler. And thank goodness for that.
Overall the trip was uneventful. People wanted pictures, some made racist and/or bigoted comments (pretty low key for this trip, actually), looks of awe, excitement and romanticized wonderment…all pretty much the norm. I made a significant purchase at Bath and Bodyworks (not the most masculine store I’ve ever been in), and ultimately went to see Santa. Of course. While all this is happening, Dakota was documenting everything in photos and video.
Someone complained about the video part to security. Uh Oh.
Security were very secure. Segway riding, pepper spray having rent a cops. Magnificent. They came up to us saying that a complaint was made and that we needed to stop filming. “ok” we said. Done. I could tell they were a bit nervous about exersising their ‘authority’. I use quotes on authority because in this capacity, it’s pretty much made up.
We meet up with Santa. Dakota still documenting even after the warning.
Following pictures with Santa, (who was very nice and please to see me, btw). we were on our way out. As we were leaving, an older security guard came up behind us. I had interaction with this guy previously, and he was suspicious of me and my headdress last time, so I knew this might not go well. Here is how it went:
Paul Blart: One of my men have already asked you to stop recording. I have observed you video taping, and now I am going to ask you to leave.
Me: We were on our way out, actually.
Paul Blart: Please make your way to the nearest exit NOW.
Dakota: We are.
-Both of us are smiling-
Dakota: So why exactly ware we being asked to leave?
Paul Blart: You’re on private property, and about 1000 other reasons. Not to mention I’m suspicious of the package he is carrying. *points to me*
Me: *stopping in my tracks, turning around and opening the bag from my purchase at Bath and Body Works* This is my purchase from Bath and Body works. I’ve been just doing some Christmas shopping.
Paul Blart: Well, I didn’t ask to see it, but I appreciate you showing me.
At this point it gets a bit fuzzy to me. The exchange went along the lines of Dakota and me laughing at Paul, and at one point Dakota saying “sorry, I am just laughing at you” and Dakota showing Paul that he was not only recording, but that he was still recording and has the entire exchange that was happening right then and there. It was at this point where Paul the crumudgen firmly stated “You and your little friend are now banned from this mall forever. If you step foot on the premises we will contact the authorities and have you removed”, or something to that effect.
We both laughed. It was just so absurd.
As soon as we left, crossed the crosswalk to the parking lot, I told Dakota to turn the camera back on to I could talk to it. He obliged, and I began to explain a little bit of what happened. Mid interview, another security guard came up and asked us to leave immediately with statements of private property, tresspassing and what have you. We acted exasperated, smiled and made our way out. We partked at the far end of the parking lot, and as we looked back to the enterence, I could see security standing there and seeing us off. It was kind of sweet, and poetic like in Legends of the Fall, watching sweet Tristen ride off into the sunset.
What ever will I do without the mall?
My biggest regret was that when Paul said we were banned, that I didn’t yell out “WHAT?! NOOOOOO!!!” or something to that effect. I did get a sweet photo with Santa though!
The biggest bit of irony in all this is the amount of camera phones taking my photo, taking video, much of it without my permission, all in a public (but seemingly private) place. In all this, I must admit my love and appreciation for Dakota. He knows his rights, stands his ground, and enables me to do the same.
You’ve taken my land, and now you’ve taken my mall. When will Indians start winning? #sarcasm
Request:Hey there lovely. Can you do blurbs about the 5sos lads and doing their daughters hair? Or something. Daddy 5sos is the best thing to exist!
Yasss! I agree omg, imagine them doing their daughter’s hair??? So cute omg! I just came up with their daughters names myself, hope that’s okay and, for the first time ever, it’s in the boys’ P.O.V. not (Y/N)’s! Some are futuristic as not all their daughters are like, two or three, some of them are older x
“Ash, I’m really running late and I need to leave in five minutes, would you please do Arabella’s hair?” (Y/N) asks as she throws on her jacket
“Yeah, sure thing babe” I smile, kissing her on the cheek before she leaves for work.
“BELLA!!” I shout, not knowing where she’s gonna come running from.
“DADDY!” I hear a screech and a patter of footsteps running up to me from behind, and a pair of arms wrap around my legs.
I hug her back, “Is daddy going to do your hair?”
“Where’s mummy?” Arabella asks, pouting.
“She’s had to go to work, she was running late. But don’t worry, daddy can do your hair like mummy does” I smile
“Okay” She shrugs “Put it in a ponytail like mummy does!”
She stands in front of me, as I grab the comb, bobble and conditioning spray off the counter. I crouch down and spray her hair, making sure to cover her eyes.
I comb her hair, trying not to tug too much at the tangles.
“Ow!” She screeches
“Sorry, sweetheart. There’s a big tangle here, let me get some more spray” I apologise
I spray some extra on the spot of the tangle, and just about manage to untangle it.
Once I’m sure her hair is tangle-free, I begin to put the ponytail in - remembering what (Y/N) previously said about how tight I should make it.
“There you go! All done” I announce, as she spins round to face me.
“Good work, daddy! You did well. Maybes even better than mummy!” She smiles
I gasp, “Even better than mummy?”
She nods, “But shh, don’t tell her that! It’s our little secret!”
“Oh okay” I wink, “It’s our little secret”
“So, you really think that you can do a French plait?” (Y/N) asks, raising her eyebrows.
I nod, “Yeah. I’ve seen you do them plenty of times”
She sighs, “Okay, well why don’t we get our daughter in here so you can prove it?”
“What? No, we don’t need to do that” I laugh
“No I wanna see you do it” (Y/N) persists
“DAKOTA!” She shouts
About two minutes later, Dakota opens our bedroom door.
“Yeah?” She grunts
She sure as hell is a grumpy fifteen year old.
“Dad reckons he can do a French plait” (Y/N) announces
“Can he fuck” Dakota spits
“Hey missy, language” (Y/N) warns
“Dad says shit like that all the time” Dakota complains, as I smirk to myself - she’s definitely her dad’s daughter.
“Yeah well maybes your dad’s a bad influence” (Y/N) tuts
“I don’t know, you always let me be a bad influence on you” I smirk
“Urgh! Guys, can we get back to the point of me being here?!” Dakota says in disgust
“Well, why don’t you let dad put your hair into a French plait?” (Y/N) suggests
“He’s not going anywhere near my hair” Dakota snaps
“Exactly” I giggle
“I’ll give you twenty dollars” (Y/N) adds
“Thirty” Dakota replies
“twenty-five” (Y/N) shoots back
Dakota sighs, “Fine”
I look at the two of them, “Dakota Clifford, I offer you money all the time but you never take it!”
“Yeah well this is mum, she never just hands out money” Dakota shrugs
“HA!” (Y/N) laughs, “Now go on then husband, show us you can do a French plait!”
I sigh, “FINE!”
Dakota sits on the bed in front of me, handing me the bobble from her wrist. I separate her hair into three parts, and plait it.
“SEE! I told you I could French plait hair!” I smile sarcastically
(Y/N) holds back a laugh, “Yeah Michael, you’re excellent at doing a basic plait”
Dakota shoots a look at me, “You said you were going to do a French plait”
“That’s what I did” I defend
Dakota takes the plait and has a look at it, “Dad that’s a basic plait!”
I sigh, “Well then how do you do a French plait?”
“Mum?” Dakota says
(Y/N) gets up and we swap places so that she could do Dakota’s hair.
Five minutes later, (Y/N) ties Dakota’s bobble “There!”
“Oh my word, that’s wizardry” I say
“No Michael, it’s just skill” (Y/N) says as both her and Dakota laugh.
“Dad” I hear a little voice say from behind me
I turn around and crouch down to Cleo’s level, “Yes, sweetie”
“Can you put my hair up into bunches please?” She asks, shyly.
“Erm…” I stutter, “Yeah, I guess”
“Yay! Thank you” She smiles, taking a seat on the sofa.
Truth is, I’m not good with hair. I’m not co-ordinated enough to do this sort of thing. You’d think I would be being able to play bass and stuff, but apparently not. I sit down behind Cleo and she passes me a couple of bobbles. I can do ponytails - like, one pony tail. But anything over one, I struggle. I guess I have to separate her hair into two parts and then just put them into ponytails. God, it’s so stupid that I don’t know how to do this.
Five minutes later, I’m finished.
“Right, there you go” I say, kissing her forehead.
“Thanks dad” She smiles, skipping up the stairs.
After a few minutes I hear a loud laugh coming from upstairs. I of course want to be in on this joke, so I go to see what is so funny.
I walk in mine and (Y/N)’s bedroom to find (Y/N) taking photos of Cleo on her phone while she’s trying not to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, clueless.
“Bless you. Thanks for trying to put Cleo’s hair in bunches” She says, biting her lip as to prevent her from laughing.
“What do you mean trying? I did it, didn’t I?” I question
“Well, yeah, kind of” (Y/N) replies, “They’re a bit…lob-sided though”
“Oh well I didn’t think it mattered” I state
“Well it doesn’t, it would just look more presentable if they weren’t” (Y/N) says, bursting out laughing.
I roll my eyes, “Whatever”
“Calum, no wait!” She calls
She follows me out of the bedroom, “No babe, I think it’s very cute that you tried. Really, they’re not that bad. You just need a little practise”
“No thanks. I think I’ll leave it to you next time. Why would I put myself up for humiliation like this again?” I mumble
“Calum, honestly, your daughter would love for you to do her hair again” (Y/N) tells me
“Yeah dad, I’d love it if you’d do my hair some more. Even if my bunches are lobsided” Cleo smiles
“Okay, I guess I can do that for you!” I grin “Come on, family hug!”
“Dad, can you do me a HUGE favour?” Sydney asks
“Yes, darling what is it?” I ask her
“Well mum told me that she would put my hair into ringlets with her curling tongs for when I go out to lunch with my friends, but she’s still asleep and I don’t want to wake her…” Sydney begins
“Mmhhm” I back-channel
“So, do you think you could do it instead?” She asks
I look up at her. Why can’t she just wake her mum up? I can do anything BUT use the curling tongs. Believe me, I’ve tried. But, I guess you have to keep eleven year olds happy. Don’t want them rebelling in the future, do we?
“Erm, I guess I can give it a go” I say
I stand up and lead her upstairs.
“Just you go into your room and I’ll get the curling tongs from our room” I smile
I take the curling tongs and plug them into a socket in Sydney’s room. She sits on the bed and I kneel down on the ground. I’ve seen (Y/N) do this before, so at least I know the basics of it.
I begin to put her hair into loose curls. Everything’s going great. I’m actually making a good job of it.
“Morning you guys”
I jump out of my skin; I didn’t realise there was someone there.
“OW!” I shout
“LUKE, STOP SWEARING IN FRONT OF SYDNEY!” (Y/N) shouts back at me
I don’t think Sydney really cares. She’s too busy laughing at the fact I’ve just burnt myself on the curling tongs.
“Luke are you alright?” (Y/N) asks
“I just burnt myself on your stupid curling tongs!” I yell
“Then what are you still doing here? Go run it under a cold tap!” She says “What were you trying to do anyway?”
“You said you’d put her hair in ringlets but you were still in bed and she didn’t want to wake you, so I said I’d do it” I explain
(Y/N) sighs, “Right, I’m sorry Sydney. You should have just woke me, I wouldn’t have minded. Luke, go see to your burn. Sydney, I’ll finish your hair for you”