dallas based a


Standing Rock #NoDAPL protestors just won a major victory. But don’t stop being vigilant– there’s already evidence nothing is changing

The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers said Sunday that it won’t grant an easement for the Dakota Access oil pipeline in southern North Dakota. But the pipeline is largely complete except for the now-blocked segment underneath Lake Oahe. And the company constructing the pipeline, Dallas-based Energy Transfer Partners, had said it is unwilling to reroute the project.

Cameron Dallas - Breathe me (based on the song)

Request:  Can you do one based off the song breathe me by Sia? P.s I LOVE your imagines so much!!!!!!💗💗

Imagine by Fire-red-hair


( I decided to make this a Cameron one because I feel like he relates to this the most.)  *TRIGGER WARNING!!!! DEPRESSION, SELF HARM* 

 Help, I have done it again
 I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And the worst part is there’s no one else to blame


I sit in my shared bathroom, looking into the mirror, a twisted state of reality I am living in. I see a girl that no one cares about anymore. I see a girl who is not pretty, not deserving of a husband, ugly. I see stretch marks on my arms and hips and chest. I see scars on my wrists and blemishes on my skin. 

I take my razor and glide it across my skin. I cry, 35 days clean I was. 35 that is now zero. I slump to the floor, leaning my arms on my putrid knees, and putting my ugly face in my wretched hands. I cry deep, body shaking sobs. I want to scream in anger with myself. I think about how my life is wrong, nothing going right for me. I’ve done everything to be happy and yet I still end up here, alone. 

Be my friend, hold me
Wrap me up, unfold me
I am small, and needy
Warm me up and breathe me



 I come home from a long day of modeling and meetings, and I set my stuff down by the back door to the cozy town home Y/N and I share. I look around for her, and I don’t see her. 

“Y/N? I’m home!” I shout. I don’t hear anything. I wonder if she’s sleeping. I walk up the stairs and into our bedroom. Seeing the bathroom door closed. I hear little sobs from behind the door.
No. I walk to the door and turn the handle. It’s locked. 

“Y/N baby it’s me, let me in!” I cry, desperately. She’s the most beautiful girl in the world, even her mind, however twisted it is. She stops sobbing, but the door doesn’t open. “Baby, please. I’m here, I’m right here with open arms. Just open the door.” I am almost crying. Her and I both have depression. I hear her turn the sink on and hiss as the water runs over what is probably a fresh set of cuts. She opens the drawer and puts her razor away. I’ve been through this many times with her. She starts crying again, really loud hysterical sobs, and I feel like I’m watching someone die from behind a glass window, trapped and unable to help. I suddenly feel scared, and sad too. “Y/N, please,” my voice cracks, damnit I have to be strong. 

I run down stairs and grab a screw driver so I can unlock the door from the outside. I come back up and stick it in the lock, unlocking the door and opening it up to see my baby. She is sitting in a ball, still sobbing. 

“Oh, baby.” I say softly, feeling a tear slip down my cheek. I wipe it away quickly and pick her shaking body up, laying her in our bed. I close the blinds, and I put the covers over her. I walk around the bed and get in it next to her. Leaning against the headboard. I pull her into my chest, kissing her head and shoulder. “I’m here baby. I’m here.” I try to comfort her. She finally talks, her voice soft and rough. 

“Cam, what’s wrong with me? Why do I do everything to be happy, yet feel sad all the time?” I understand her pain. I feel it too, just not as bad as she does.

“God has a plan for you and me, he makes it tough but it makes us strong. We just gotta hold on darling.” I say, speaking from my heart.


 Ouch, I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found
Yeah, I think that I might break
Lost myself again and I feel unsafe



 I hear crying in our house, a usual occurrence in or house, sadly. I run upstairs to Cameron, Lord knows what’s wrong now. I open our room door and see him with his hands pressed against the window, looking at the pouring rain outside. I stand in the doorway for a second, watching him. He bows his head, and then sits down, leaning against our bed. Still facing the window. He sniffles, and leans his head back a pained expression on his face. I walk over to him, and sit on the ground by him.


Be my friend, hold me
Wrap me up, unfold me
I am small, and needy
Warm me up and breathe me
Be my friend, hold me
Wrap me up, unfold me
I am small, and needy
Warm me up and breathe me


I wrap my arms around him, kissing his cheek that is wet with tears. He looks over at me. 

“Damnit…” He says, I cut him off. 

“Shhh, it’s ok baby,” I say and hug him tighter. He stretches his legs out, and I grab his wrists, pulling the sleeves of his sweatshirt up, checking for fresh cuts. He winces, I know he hates when I see his scars. To my relief, there are no fresh cuts. I climb onto his waist, straddling him. I look in his brown eyes, and see a longing for happiness. He rubs his hands up and down my sides, needing something to hold on to. I kiss as many tears away as I can, as they slow down. He wraps his arms around me. Burying his head in the crook of my neck. 

“I hate being sad.” He whispers. 

 "Don’t worry Cam, someday we will be happy.“ 



Survival Slingshot

Slingshots are no longer small hand-powered catapults which have been regular fixtures among boys from all countries, generations and cultures. Well, at least not the one that we are featuring here. This is a more grown-up version of a slingshot, made for survivalists, hunters or collectors of strange weaponry. It is called the Survival Slingshot or Archery Slingshot, and is produced by the eponymous company based in Dallas, Texas.

  • Peter as a kid: That's fine, the Doctor will return for Susan eventually.
  • Peter as a teenager: Why hasn't the Doctor returned for Susan yet?
  • Peter's parents: When are you going to stop asking that question?
  • Peter in his 20s: When will the Doctor finally return for Susan?! He promised!
  • Peter's friends: *groan*
  • Peter in his 40s: So, erm, the Doctor still hasn't returned for Susan.
  • Elaine: Honey, the show isn't even on anymore.
Ci chiudemmo in casa sbarrando le tapparelle. Fuori era buio nonostante non fossero nemmeno le sei di sera, diluviava ed io avevo paura. Ti avvicinasti di soppiatto mettendomi le mani sulle spalle facendomi sussultare per lo spavento. “Sono io.” Dicesti per poi farti riconoscere con una serie di baci umidi, lenti, che partirono dalla base del collo e finirono chissà dove vorticando assieme alle nostre lingue.
Un tuono, due bocche che si scontrano.
Un lampo, due anime che si trovano.
—  Perlabionda.

Survival Slingshot

Slingshots are no longer small hand-powered catapults which have been regular fixtures among boys from all countries, generations and cultures. Well, at least not the one that we are featuring here. This is a more grown-up version of a slingshot, made for survivalists, hunters or collectors of strange weaponry. It is called the Survival Slingshot or Archery Slingshot, and is produced by the eponymous company based in Dallas, Texas.

Shawn Mendes - Memories (based on the song)

This is an imagine based on the song Memories by Shawn. The request was a bit long so I won’t put it here, but the main idea was about Shawn’s girlfriend passing away and him recalling all hiss memories of her.


Shawn’s POV

It was completely silent. The only light in the room came from the little lamp I had on my desk. I was trying to ease the pain somehow that has been aching in my chest since everything fell apart around me.

The untouched paper was staring right at me, I had a pen in my hand but I felt numb and utterly sad. I wanted to cry but I ran out of tears in the past week. She was gone, and I didn’t know what I should do.

I looked at the bed we not so formerly shared. I remembered how her beautiful hair spread all over the pillow, I heard her laugh in my ears. I remembered the last time she was there. It was right before I had to leave for tour. I promised we would see each other soon. She was up early and I woke up to her footsteps as she was shuffling around in my room. I opened my eyes and saw her petite figure at the doorframe, she was putting her hair up into a ponytail. She turned to me, and smiled as she saw me.

“Good morning!” I heard her heavenly voice. She crawled onto the bed, sitting on my hips. I put my hands onto her thighs feeling her silky skin under my fingers.

“Good morning to you too, baby,” I said with a hoarse voice.

“I’m making breakfast to you,” she said leaning in and kissing me quickly. She stood up, and I heard her bare foot again tap against the hardwood floor. I watched her disappear in the hallway.

I scooted closer to my desk and quickly wrote down the first thoughts that got into my mind about this memory.

“When I wake up to your footsteps
As you get up out of bed
They make a sound that sounds so simple
Yet dances in my head”

I sighed and tried to keep myself together. My eyes fell onto the guitar at the corner of the room and I immediately thought of that noon when she asked me to teach her to play my favorite songs.

“Am I doing it right?” she asked smiling at me. She held it in the wrong way. I chuckled and put it into place.

“This way. Now hold there, there and there,” I said putting her fingers onto the right strings. “And now strum.”

She draw her fingers across the strings and the guitar came to life in her hands.

“Oh my God, I did it!” She looked at me with pure excitement.

“Yes, you did,” I laughed kissing her soft cheek.

“What’s next?” She didn’t give up until she knew the whole song. She was a natural talent.

I still felt her fingers under mines and her weight on my chest as she leaned to me. I had her in my arms, and it felt like we could stay like that forever. Now it was all gone.

I glanced back to the paper and wrote down my thoughts again.

“Let’s sing our song”

My glare fell to the picture of us on the wall. It was the first thing she put up when she moved in with me.

“This was the last box,” she stated putting it down.

“Good. Where do you want to start?” I asked. She tapped her chin in an adorable way and looked around. She had her hair in a messy bun and wore one of my shirts with no makeup on. And still, she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

“Let’s put this here.” She took out a framed photo of us from one of my concerts. We were hugging and smiling at each other at backstage, I had my guitar on my back and she was in high heels, still being shorter than me.

She got on her toes and put the photo up.

“There. Much better, isn’t it?” she asked watching her work proudly.

“You are right,” I smiled at her hugging her from behind.

“Let’s hang our pictures on the wall”

I was looking forward to be with her every day for a long, long time. But life had other plans and now she was hopefully in a better place.

Now the only time I could be with her was if I went to her grave. I remembered that after the funeral I spent three hours sitting next to her grave.

“All the precious moments
That we carved in stone”

That pain never got better. They told me time would ease it, but they all were wrong. I missed her with every breath I took and I wished I could go back in time. If only I didn’t go to the tour, this all wouldn’t have happened.

She just wanted to surprised me but that psychopath chose that day and her to ease his own pain. How can I ever forgive myself for being away from her for this long? I should have been with her. But I didn’t have a second chance on that.

“You gave me all
But I’ve got to let go
I’ve got to let go, no”

I felt the tears fall again and I just couldn’t stop recalling all our memories.

Talking about future, about us, about forever. She was my forever. She was the one I imagined my future with. She was my future and I was hers. We talked about how we are going to raise our kids and how we will grow old together.

“Let’s write our story”

With shaking hands I wrote everything down, while tears kept falling from my eyes. The only sound in the room was my desperate sobbing and the crepitation of the pen as I tried to write down every word with her vivid memory in my mind. I felt myself becoming nothing without her. I didn’t want to exist without my other half.

But all I had was hope that one day I will understand why she had to go that early. That why she had to leave everything behind.

And then, one day, at the right time, we would be together again. I would feel her touch again, hear her voice and kiss her lips.

But until then, all I got was just

“Memories after all”

Magcon fan base/Females

This is just my thoughts on the magcon fanbase or the female species in general.

So Magcon is an amazing event and opportunity for ‘Fans’ to meet their ‘idols’ or people to look up too which is such an amazing opportunity and idea.But when we see these event’s it is ALL girls yeah maybe one or two boys but 99% girls show up to this event.And us females are just giving the guys glory and honor by crying for them or going crazy for them just because they are attractive.Yet we get mad when men or boys look at us as toys.

I’m not saying to stop going to these event’s I’m simply saying it’s not fair that these guys feel on top of the world with female attention and us females scream their names or go absolutely insane just seeing them.It’s ridiculous that us females need to feel special about or selves because a guy called us pretty or just looked at you for two seconds we should love and respect ourselves enough to not need to feel beautiful because of a boy But for ourselves.Now this is not just geared to magcon .But even with any other event like Selena Gomez meet and greets,Justin bieber meet and greets Digi tour meet and greets It’s most likely females going to these events and acting crazy insane over regular human beings 

When most of them have no talent and are known for lip syncing ?.

This is just my opinion no shade being thrown but i would love to know everyone else point of view on this  Here 

I’m a girl myself and this is just my thought and what I have noticed !

                                                    ━━━━━ ➤ Based on this (x

┆ ⚜ To: @astridxindierp ▬ ☯┆

                       Había encontrado fuera del salón donde tenía clases a su mejor amiga, sollozando como una pequeña con el rostro sumamente colorado por el llanto. Al parecer ese tipo que detestaba Dallas hasta más no poder, se había tomado el atrevimiento de insultar a Ixhel. La pelirroja enfureció en cuanto supo ¿con que derecho venía este muchacho y soltaba pestes de su amiga de la infancia? No lo tenía porque ni siquiera le conocía  y claro que no iba a dejar las cosas así, si algo se sabía de la fémina era que sobreprotegía a sus seres queridos y amigos, defendiéndolos a capa y espada sin importar nada más. Comenzó a caminar por todo el campus, hirviendo en cólera esperando escupirlo en palabras contra ese ‘Chico Popular’ que no sabía hacer otra cosa más que llamar la atención de cualquier forma.  ‘Pero me va a escuchar…’ pensó para sí Dallas, llamando un poco la atención a su alrededor por la expresión de su rostro mientras intentaba hallar al culpable.  Cuando por fin su mirada asesina lo detecto acelero el paso y se plantó frente a éste sin darle oportunidad alguna “¿Quieres explicarme que pretendías divulgando mentiras sobre  Ixhel? ¿eh? ¡Quiero una explicación ahora!”


Black Open Carry: Why Gun Rights and Civil Rights Need Each Other

“We are proposing armed self-defense as it relates to the situation with black people here in America when it comes to dealing with police departments,” says Charles Goodson, founder of the Huey P. Newton gun club, an open carry group based in Dallas.

Reason TV attended a meeting of the gun club and spoke to Goodson and others about their goals and how they hope to accomplish them. And historian Thaddeus Russell talked about the long, intertwined history of the gun rights and civil rights movements, from slave revolts to Reconstruction-era resistance to the Klan to the Black Panthers.

“One of the great untold stories about the civil rights movement was that it required violent resistance from blacks to be effective,” says Russell.

You Mean Only The Best // Cameron Dallas

Originally posted by kaliforniaxkamrynn

Based on: Here by Alessia Cara
Pairing: Cameron Dallas x reader
Y/N Y/L/N: is your first & last name

Let me know if you want me to do a part 2 of this, because I have some ideas for that!

Everyone seemed to have a good time. They were either talking over me or to me, but I couldn’t focus on anyone’s words. I wasn’t really having a good time at this party and I wanted to leave. It was not the people, they were awesome and the party was good, but I was just not up for a party that day. It was weird to even think that, because normally I would be so up for any kind of festive activity, but not today. Today, I only came here because my best friend dragged me with her and I decided to make the best of it.
I could see one of my best friends Madison with her boyfriend Jack Gilinsky in the corner of the room. They were dancing and kissing at the same time and I knew that that would not go as planned for too long. I knew somewhere in the crowd, there were Riley and Evan, my other two best friends, but they always enjoyed themselves all too well. They all were having a good time, but I just wanted to go home. Or not be by myself. Or just be around people who cared about me and how I felt, not people who only cared about getting into my pants. Well - under my skirt.
The skirt was something people, especially boys, also saw on me. The next boy, maybe the fifth of the night, maybe the eleventh, came up to me, but before he could speak, I held up my hand in a stop sign. “I don’t dance. And I don’t need a boyfriend. Please enjoy your party. Thank you.” I gave him a fake smile and lowered my hand again as the boy walked off with a disappointed look on his face.
With a sigh, I filled my red cup again to the brim and sat down in the corner. People next to me were smoking weed, a guy was yelling stuff at the top of his lungs without anyone being able to understand what he was saying because the music was way too loud. A boy, that walked past, looked at me with lust-filled eyes but I tried to ignore him, even though I felt uncomfortable by his gaze. Didn’t those guys understand that they were scaring the living shit out of me?
Even though I wasn’t really talking to anyone, I felt like I was draining the energy out of this party, like no one was truly having a good time because I was being anti-social in the corner. I had enough of the eyes, filled with lust, looking me up and down. I had enough of the guys blowing smoke from their blunts into each other’s faces and then proceeding to cough as if it was their first time smoking. I stood up out of the corner, filled my cup again, and went out into the hallway, where I sat down on the stairs. At least it was cooler here than in the livingroom, where the main part of the party was.
Just a short while later, I was joined by a guy who I vaguely recognized. Had Madison introduced me to him? Or maybe her boyfriend had. He sat down next to me and stayed silent for a while, until he asked: “Why aren’t you out there partying with the rest?”
I raised an eyebrow and looked at the boy. I frowned, trying to remember his name. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?” I said, when I couldn’t remember it.
“Cameron,” he said, with a little smile on his face. “Jack introduced us to each other. Was my impression on you that bad?”
I felt a small smile creep up on my face. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t really listening to what he was saying. Can we start over?” I cleared my throat and stuck out my hand to him. “Y/N Y?/L/N. Nice to meet you.”
He got the hint, took my hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you too, Y/N, I’m Cameron Dallas.” He smiled and I smiled back. I knew instantly that he was not one of those guys who wanted to fuck me and leave me to rot, waiting for his phone call after he promised one. His intentions were OK, I could tell, but honestly… I’d rather still not be here. “But, seriously, why aren’t you out there?” he repeated.
I shrugged. “I never really wanted to come here,” I admitted. “I’d rather be with a close, small group of friends and listen to music. And not this…” Rae Sremmurd’s No Type was playing, and people were singing along at their loudest, without caring that they were singing completely out of tune.
Cameron nodded. “OK, that seems reasonable.” We both looked up as we heard a scream. It came from the kitchen and it obviously was a girl, but before we could jump up to see what was going on, she came running out of the kitchen, yelling: “Ryan, stop that!” I rolled my eyes as I saw who it was. Ashley, the girl who, everytime I saw her, was gossiping about her close friends, including the Ryan she was now running away from.
I looked at Cameron. “Do you understand why I’d rather be somewhere else?”
He chuckled and nodded as Ryan, who had been following Ashley but stopped due to coughing, was now throwing up on the floor of the hallway, the red cup he had been clutching, falling onto the floor. Luckily the cup was empty, but Ryan’s stomach certainly was not. Ashley had no clue that Ryan was clearing out his entire stomach on the nice and clean carpet of the Jacks (Jack J and Jack G, the last one being Madison’s boyfriend and the first having become a good friend because we were always together whenever Jack and Mad were). God, what was I doing here with these kind of people?
“Do you maybe wanna go upstairs now that it smells gross here?” Cameron offered.
I shook my head. “Sorry, I’d love to… But I’d rather be outside. On my own.” I added the last bit, in case he was going to ask me if he could join me. That was really something I didn’t want. “If you see Riley, Evan or Madison, just tell them I’ll be in the car.”
Cameron nodded. “OK. But uh, Haiden?” he asked as I stood up. I turned around and nodded at him, signalling he could go on. “Before you go…” He stood up. “Could I maybe have your number? I’d feel a lot better if you’d text me when you get home. So I know you arrived safely.”
Despite not really wanting to share my number with people who I didn’t have a good conversation with, I exchanged numbers with this guy. I knew who Cameron was, nowadays who didn’t? I also knew he was a good-looking guy, but he did have a soul, which was unlike, for example, Ryan, who was now sitting down on the floor, leaning against the wall, with a bit of drool hanging out of his mouth. He was going to fall asleep for sure.
After Cameron left in the direction of the livingroom area, I finally left the house. I still had my cup on me, which was half full, so I took it with me to Riley’s car. I was so glad I had driven us here, so I still had the keys on me as I took a seat in the back, so I could lie down. Before I knew it, I fell asleep.