frizzy's

not gonna happen

“i bet you will do great today, darling.” your mum said as she looked at you through facetime. you had your phone propped on the shelf on the wall, next to the mirror where you were finishing getting ready. “your speech will knock ‘em out.” 

you laughed, running your fingers through your curls. “i hope so.” 

“i gotta get going. but i know you will do big things.” your mum continued. “and you look great, by the way.” 

another laugh left your lips as you reached for your phone, looking at your mum on the screen to see her grabbing her purse. “thank you.” you said. “love your mum, bye.” 

“bye!” she called out before ending the facetime call.

placing your phone on the sink, you looked back at yourself in the mirror to make sure your lipstick hadn’t smudged, and that your hair wasn’t frizzy. 

after double-checking, you noticed chris through the mirror, walking into the bathroom. you shot him a smile and he walked up behind you, grabbing your hips first before placing a kiss on the side of your neck.

“for the record, i think you look pretty great too.” he whispered before chuckling when he noticed your eyeroll, and then he kissed your cheek. he looked down at your pencil skirt and let out a low whistle before pressing against your back. “and i think you’d look pretty great grasping at the sheets on my bed.” 

you snorted. “for the last time, i’m not making the bed this morning.” 

anonymous asked:

Best shampoo and conditioner for over processed dry frizzy hair?? I get reg trims, my hair is kinda wavy but frizzy cuz it's so dry, it's dyed and I use a blow dryer and straightening iron 🙄 HELP

Who can help?

The different looks of Judith Grimes

The “Guys, I really don’t think it’s a good idea” look


The “That’s my favorite game” look


The “Hey, brother” look


The “I’m totally agree with you” look


The “Mum you’re so beautiful” look


The “My gosh, can you just stop talking to me” look


The “Who do you think you are” look


+ BONUS

“Well I’m the real star of the show so I can look right into the camera if I want! Do you have a problem with that ?”

This little one is becoming my new favorite actress! She deserves an Emmy 🙈!

Firsts

Warnings: None 

 A/N: This is the first of many that I’m going to write about Jeff Atkins. It’s going to be a ‘Jeff x Reader’ relationship series. First kiss, fight, breakup, etc. There won’t be any death or suicide- none of that, but there will be A LOT of drama. I’m taking requests as well, so feel free to send some in! :)

Originally posted by bluerangerpower

 You stared at yourself in the mirror, horrified at what you saw. Your hair was a complete wreck. The curls weren’t holding, it was frizzy as hell, and it was starting to tangle at the ends. And it’s not like you could jump in the shower to fix it, you didn’t have enough time. Your date said he would pick you up at seven and it was already six forty-eight. God, you weren’t even dressed yet. A knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts. Your brothers bleach blonde head pops in.

  “Jeff’s here, he’s waiting in the- what the hell,” he says when he notices your state. He points a finger at you and laughs. “You look like shit.”

         He dodges the comb you throw at him. “Shut up,” you growl. “Go tell him that I’ll be down in a few minutes,” he’s still laughing when he leaves your room. “And don’t embarrass me, Alex!”

         You sit at your vanity, attempting to brush the knots out of your hair when theres another light knock on your door. “Alex, I swear if you-” you’re cut off when the door opens, and to your horror it’s not the dumbass you call a brother, it’s Jeff, your date.

“Jeff,” you say nervously. “Hey.”

  He smiles at you and closes the door behind him. “Alex said you were running late,” he takes a step forward. He looks amazing, you notice. As always. “Can I help?”

                    You make a mental note to strangle your brother when you get the chance. “It’s my hair,” you point to the mess that sits on your head. “It’s being difficult.” 

“Here, give me your brush and a hair tie,” he holds out his hand. “We got this.”

              You smile as he begins to brush your hair gently. “You know,” he says after a few minutes of silence. “Even on your worst bad hair day, you’d still be the most beautiful girl I know.”

           Your eyes meet his in the mirror and he gives you another dazzling smile. He ends up braiding  your hair into a single braid, and he’s surprisingly good at it. He grins, “Now,” he says turning to the mess of clothes on your bed. He pulls out a pair of shorts and solid baby pink shirt. “Wear this. I like the way you look in this color.”

          You leave him in your room to change in the bathroom. As you do so you think of the way it felt when he touched you as he did your hair, and the butterflies that were still in your stomach that started once he stepped into your room. What guy would do your hair, and help you pick out something to wear when you were running late for your date? Damn it, he was perfect. You chew on your lip as you walk back into your room. He’s sitting on your bed and raises his head when you step in. He grins.

“You look amazing, ________.”

         You don’t reply. He watches you with curious eyes as you walk up to him, cup his face in your hands and lean forward, brushing your lips against his. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back, pressing his lips harder against yours. He stands slowly, never breaking the kiss and wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. Your bare feet on his shoes, tiptoeing to reach his mouth. The kiss starts off slow, gentle as if the two of you are testing the waters. But once you get a taste of him, you lose it. Your fingers tangle in his soft hair, tugging at it as his teeth bite down on your lip. The kiss becomes crazed, explosive, fervent as the two of you poor everything into it. You pull away first, face flushed, panting softly.

“Well,” Jeff says after catching his breath, voice husky. “Isn’t that supposed to happen after the first date?”

You chuckle softly. “Who says it won’t?”

    Another beautiful smile appears on his face. “Let’s get this show on the road then, yeah?”

  And that’s when you knew, you were probably going to fall in love with Jeffery Michael Atkins.




 You pass Alex on the way out, and as you pass him you punch him in the arm. He yelps, rubbing his arm. “Asshole!”

why identity-first language is great

so many people say that autistic people have to be called ““people with autism”” because apparently the other way around forgets our ““humanity””…

but you know what? identity-first language makes me feel fucking GREAT. I feel even more human because of it, I’d say.

it’s so helpful and important to me to be able to say I AM something instead of that I HAVE something. “I have autism”….. that’s boring! it sounds like something I have to carry around with me. it sounds like something that’s been tacked onto me. it sounds medical.

“I AM AUTISTIC” though…. that’s so different! I am this thing and it is me and it is mine and I get to own it! it sounds like an identity, not an affliction! even just the sentence sounds like an empowerment!

using identity-first language is important to me because it is just that. an identity. by calling myself an autistic person, I get to not only accept it as part of myself, but I get to really own my identity. calling myself autistic instead of having autism helps me really take charge of my disability, and even feel like I have a bit more control over it. like autism isn’t something I have, it’s something I OWN. I OWN it!!! that’s a great feeling!!

what’s ironic is that the very people who claim my language “erases my humanity” are the very people who insist on thinking of me as subhuman. in this world that is so set on convincing us we do not deserve to exist the way we do, it helps me cope and even feel more empowered to call myself by what I am rather than what I have. by accepting autism as my identity, I feel I have control and therefore I am stronger. autism is embedded into the very fabric of my being, and you cannot separate it from me. I. AM. AUTISTIC.