with very old (and ugly) furniture, like me, you know how hard it is to make something ‘pretty’. You can’t invest or change much. That’s why I’m super excited about these self-adhesive decorative foils.
Guess what, I bought 5 rolls ($2 each). You can imagine what will the kitchen look like when I’m done with it 😁
Anyway, I just wanted to suggest, if you want to change something, and can’t afford or live in a rented place, a self-adhesive decorative foil is a way to go. It’s plastic and has no problem with water or grease. And it’s fun to apply it! :D
Here, an adorable sea otter plays with a discarded plastic basket in Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary. Sanctuary visitor Douglas Croft, who took this photo, says that “It was quite humorous to watch her play with it and carry it around, but if this ‘toy’ had had a hole in it and her head got stuck, it could have been a death sentence."
Plastic debris finds its way into the ocean far too often, and can harm the health of ecosystems and beloved sea creatures. We can all do our part to protect animals like sea otters by picking up trash on the beach and near our homes farther inland! Opting to use reusable products also goes a long way toward keeping our ocean and waterways clean.
Overview: Y/n has a family dinner where her family always bug her about never bringing a date so she asks Shawn to accompany her.
“Please, please, please, Shawn,” I whine. “I never ask you for anything,”
“I don’t know,” Shawn trails off, his arm brushing mine as he walked me back to my house after we had dinner with some of his friends at the bar in the main street.
“Listen, my family bug me every year about if I’m dating someone and for once I just want to make them happy. Could you please, pretty please, for one night… just pretend to be my date,” I stop him, pulling his arm gently so he turns and faces me. The dark sky creates shadows against his face, the dimly lit street lights illuminating half his face.
“I just don’t want to lie to your family Y/n,” He says, linking my fingers with his.
“I know you don’t but I just want to get them off my case. I don’t know who else I could ask and right now there’s no one else I’d rather fake date then you,” I chuckle, looking up at him shyly.
“Aww Y/n” Shawn coos, wrapping his arms around my waist tightly, lifting me off the ground slightly.
“Shawn- can’t breathe,” I mumble into his chest.
“Sorry,” He chuckles, placing me back down and we continue walking again. “So what would this fake date entail if I did go along with it?”
“Well,” I glance at him from the corner of my eye. “You would just come to family dinner next Sunday, get introduced to my family. Make polite conversation as you do, then we leave and you will never have to see them again!”
“Doesn’t sound too bad,” Shawn comments, slowing down as we reached my house, the moisture from the grass soaking through the gaps in my heels as I walked across the front lawn to the door.
“It’s not, you’ll be fine. You’re my best friend and my parents love you so you’ll be great,” I tell him while searching though my bag for my keys.
“What are you going to tell your mum and dad?”
“Just that our friendship turned into a relationship and all that,”
I jar the key into the lock, twisting it and shoving it open.
“You want to come in?” I ask, holding the door open.
“You making a snack?” He asks while stepping past.
“I saved you some muffins,” Immediately he walks down the hall to the kitchen.
“Thank you!” a muffled call rings out, followed by plastic rustling.
“No problem,” I shout back, chucking my bag on the sofa and shrugging my jacket off.
Shawn walks back in, grinning at me and shoving the rest of the small cake in his mouth, crumbs dusting his sweater.
“Is there a dress code?” he falls back on the couch, legs chucked up onto the arm rest, wiping his shirt clean.
“Something smart, not too dressy though,” I do the same, sitting on the spare space that he left, putting my own legs over his.
“What do you think your parents will think?” He asks quietly, his hands fidgeting.
“What do you mean?” I tilt my head to meet his eyes.
“Just of us, like, together,”he says hesitantly, his eyes never meeting mine.
“Well, they probably saw it coming.” He sends me a confused glance.
“We were best friends all through high school and then we’re still just as close now- I mean you haven’t had a girlfriend in a good 3 years or so and I haven’t even thought of dating so they probably thought that we had something secretly going on,”
He laughs, “A secret relationship, wow,”
“Hey, are you judging our secret partnership?” I glare at him teasingly.
“Not at all,” His arms move behind him to hold himself up to see me better.
“Good, because, if you were I might need to consider having a time out,”
“From our relationship?” Shawn asks, pretending to be horrified.
“How dare you!” He scolds, trying to push me off the edge of the couch. His touch tickles, making me shriek in laughter and my arms flail around trying to get a grip before I fall but unfortunately all I get is a handful of Shawn’s T-shirt
I land with a thud on the ground, Shawn falling on top of me. He groans, lifting himself so that from his waist up he was off me.
“Good one,” I growl, scowling at him.
“You’re fault,” He teases, grinning at me.
“Was not,” I snap back, a smile pulling at my lips.
“Was.Too.” I say each word slowly.
“Would it really be that bad if we dated for real?” Shawn says gently.
A/N: Happy Easter! Here’s a short little Easter fic, a bit early. (at least for me) So, here’s this. I can’t promise what’s next or when but I have started on the Jefferson time travel fic…
Word Count: 2,385
It wasn’t that you hated Easter, you just never had a good Easter memory. Nothing that stood out. All the boys could recount some funny story they had. Alexander didn’t understand why his first foster family insisted he walk around the house searching for plastic eggs. The year John’s sister hid an egg that he didn’t find until dark even though it was in a really obvious place. Lafayette’s first Easter with the Washington’s as a child when he wanted to hide the eggs but hid raw, unboiled eggs. The year Hercules failed to find an egg…until late summer.
You had hunted eggs, had Easter dinner, been dragged to church, had a lunch with all your family, and gotten chocolate bunnies. You had a few fun memories with the guys but they fell under the same batch of average memories. Still, you planned to have a good time this Easter. You went shopping and ended up in the Easter section. You studied the plastic eggs and decided to buy a dozen for each of the guys and hide them on Easter.
Meh, it’s hot outside and I have a slight headache, but I’m in good company with my bf’s family <3 Also the power supply in my computer died, again lol. Luckily it’s still in the manufacturer warranty time period. And I won’t be getting much editing done until the move is done anyway, so I guess if it had to happen, now is a pretty good time.
Hey guys, thanks for being patient, I’ve been a while. And, sorry about this being so rushed towards the ending, or just, throughout the entire chapter for that matter. And, i got a little carried away, it’s kinda long….. I hope you guys enjoy it, and that you’re all having a fantastic day. Stay sweet! ❤❤
Y/n walks back to her flat, being suspended wasn’t fun, but it did allow her to catch up on doing her normal things, now that the weekend’s blowing around, she’d be back in the field by Monday and hopefully away from Anderson. And trouble. The past week had been quiet, Sarah had been around, often calling to make sure that she was safe and whatnot, because even though the person who killed Tyler and Kate is quiet, the threat is still eminent. So, the girls stuck to watching each other’s back. She hasn’t seen the consulting detective since that morning in her uncle’s office, but she knows that this case is driving him up a wall. The fact that she doesn’t want to give him answers for things she apparently know about, and that the killer is still pretty much a mystery, is driving him nuts. She’s been able to stay clear of Sherlock Holmes, which meant, she never left her flat, since she never had a reason to. But, she ran out of a few things and a grocery run was inevitable. Just some things for the kitchen and a carton if milk for her landlady Mrs Smith. When she asked, Y/n couldn’t help but agree, she was just a really sweet old lady and Y/n sometimes felt guilty because she sometimes causes trouble for her. When she made it to her flat she knocks on Mrs Smith’s door, she immediately opened it, smile gracing her lips. “Oh, Y/n dear. Thank you so much, God knows I couldn’t reach that Grocery on time.” This particular grocery closes early, a little too early, much to everyone’s annoyance, but luckily for Y/n a guy who works there just happened to have a crush on her, and she used that to her advantage to get what she needed. Y/n smiles, handing her the milk in a small plastic bag, “It’s no problem Mrs Smith. Anything else you need, I’m right above you.” After a small conversation with Mrs Smith, Y/n heads upstairs, pulling her key from her pants pocket. Opening the door, the darkness greets her gently as it surrounds her when she goes in and closes the door behind herself. She drops her key into the bowl at the door, and walks straight to the kitchen to put the things from the grocery in the fridge. Closing it, she was about to turn on the light when someone moves behind her, without thinking she raises her elbow, connecting swiftly with the intruder’s jaw, turning around she brings her knee upward, a grunt telling her that she had hit her target perfectly, she pushes the person back, causing them to fall to the ground and she flick to light on. She was surprised to see Sherlock sitting on the floor, his hand holding his jaw, his expression was one mixed with pain and surprise. “Holmes. How’d you get in here?” Y/n questions, not at all feeling guilty for hurting the man. Serves him right, the dude broke into my flat. He gets up, his eyes locked on hers, “I picked your lock.” he states, and Y/n rolls her eyes, “Well obviously.” Sherlock rubs his now sore jaw, sitting down at the small dinning table, “Did you find what you were looking for?” Sherlock eyes snap up to meet hers at her question, furrowing his eyebrows, “How did you know I was looking for something.” “You broke into my flat.” she states, putting her hands on her hips, she knows he’d come looking for it, the key she took from Greg’s office, which was really just a spare key for the evidence archive, she needed something from there and the door was locked. “Don’t worry, I put it back where I found it.” she smiles, “You okay?” she asks, gesturing to his jaw, where a bruise was forming and he nods, but she moves to the fridge and grabs a few ice cubes, putting them in a cloth before handing it over to him. “It’ll swell.” Sherlock takes it, resting it against his jaw as he looks her over. Furrowing his eyebrows as he realized he couldn’t deduce her, it’s almost like his own mind is blocking him from doing so. He blinks a few times, he’s going to have to do this the normal way. “How about we go out for chips?” Y/n raises her eyebrows at the man, “Are you asking me out?” “No, I’m asking you to accompany me for chips,” he clarifies and the girl laughs, shaking her head at him. “Oh you poor man.” she says, giggling and Sherlock watches her confused, “What?” “Nothing, nothing at all.” she says, before turning around, “let me just change my jacket.” Good, now, all that’s left is to question her, he has to somehow get her to answer him. He just needs to wind her down a bit. Taking his phone from the pocket of his coat, he quickly types out a message to John.
I’ll be a while, have you found Kate’s records yet? SH
He waits a while before John texts back.
Okay, and No, nothing yet. And one question Sherlock. Why is Greg’s niece on the wall? JW
Sherlock rolls his eyes at John’s question, putting his phone back into his coat as Y/n comes back, she traded her grey sweater for a white hoodie jacket and she tied up her hair in a pony tail. “Come on then.”
Sherlock is actually a really good conversationist, once he gets over himself. He took her to one of the best chips vendor he knew. He hasn’t gotten around to asking her anything yet, so he just improvised. He made her laugh, telling her some of the funny and weird stuff that happened on some of his old cases, “Really? You actually said that?” Y/n asks between giggles, looking up at the detective, who was smiling back, he nods, “Yes and then she slapped me….” “Well that’s because most of the things that come out of your mouth is rude. And insensitive.” she says, nudging him with her elbow, “I am aware of that,” he grumbles, looking away from her and she laughs. “It’s okay, I’ve got a reputation for causing trouble where ever I go. But I swear, it’s not my fault.” she says, putting a chip in her mouth, “You know,” she say between chews, “these are actually decent chips. I had bad chips once, changed my perspective on them.” Y/n was having a great time, even though it was just for chips and a dumb conversation. The night was perfect for just walking about doing nothing. It wasn’t too cold, and night London was just perfect. “So, How’s that case of yours going?” she asks, looking up at him again, taking another chip from her paper, swirling it around in a blob of ketchup before eating it. “It’s troublesome.” Sherlock sighs, looking ahead of him, and Y/n chuckles. “You’ll figure it o–” The loud sound of a gun firing cuts her off, everything seemed to happen in slow motion as Y/n falls backwards. People around her scream in panic and begin to run away from the scene. A sharp pain erupted from the girl’s abdomen, she cries out in pain as she hits the concrete, her blood soaking into her white jacket. Sherlock was by her side in an instant, unzipping the jacket to put pressure on the bullet wound, looking around frantically for the shooter. But they were no where in sight. Sniper shot, Sherlock thinks looking back to her, her eyes were slowly closing. “No, no. Y/n, look at me, focus on me. You’re going to be okay.” he says, keeping pressure on her wound as warm blood seep through his fingers. The sound of sirens blaring in the distance. “Keep your eyes open.” The sound of sirens get nearer, Y/n nods, sucking in a painful breath, tears flooding her eyes, and she tries her best to keep them open. Her breaths were shallow, she could already feel coldness creeping it’s way up her toes and her fingers, the noise around her fade to dull murmurs as she loses consciousness. ________ 9:00 pm
At the hospital, the Doctors had called Lestrade in, he being the girl’s only emergency contact. After finding out which room she was in, the Doctor who took care of her explained her situation. “She was shot, but, luckily none of her vital organs were hit. She’d be fine once she’s all healed.” the dark haired woman explained, stopping outside a closed room. He thanks her and goes in, closing the door softly behind him. Sitting down in the visitor chair and he looks at her sleeping form, their breathing and the beeping of the heart monitor was the sound in the room. “It was a sniper shot.” Sherlock says quietly as he enters the room, and Greg looks up at him, “You sure?” “Yes. They don’t miss, unless deliberately. But they weren’t trying to kill her, I think that was a warning shot.” He explains, his cerulean eyes never leaving her. Greg sighs, running his hand through his hair. “She’d be safer at Baker street. With me,” “No. I’m not sending her with you. I’m her family, she stays with me.” “But that’s what they expect don’t they? She’d be safe with me.” Sherlock argues, keeping his voice low, as not to disturb the sleeping girl. “You know what I think,” Greg begins lowly, getting up from the chair to move over where Sherlock stood. “Hey, don’t I get a say in this?” a quiet voice asks, the two men immediately stop their bickering to look over at Y/n, who was watching them with one eye open. Greg shoots Sherlock a dirty look before moving back to Y/n, “It’s okay you know. I’m a big girl, I’ll make my choice.” she says to him, and he nods, knowing that she go with Sherlock. “You should thank him, he did save my life, I would’ve bled out if it wasn’t for him.” _________
After a day in the Hospital, Y/n was discharged and allowed to leave. It was late when they got to Baker street, after they stopped out to get some things at her flat, Y/n had fallen asleep in the cab, Sherlock had carried her upstairs to his flat, getting a questioning look from John when he came back from his bedroom. “So,” John starts, sitting up in his chair, blinking at the floor before looking up at Sherlock, “First she’s on the wall, then you’re ’monitoring’ her, and now she’s sleeping in your bed.” he says, and Sherlock stares at him for a good solid moment before answering. “She’s vital to the case. That’s all.” ________ 8:00 pm
When Y/n wakes up, she was confused, because the last thing she remember was sitting in a cab, not falling asleep in a bed. She only realizes where she was when she spots the coat hanging on the closet door knob. Sherlock. Right, so that’s how she got here, she carefully sit up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, after being told by the doctor to take it easy for a few days, she was willing to do just that. Moving the covers away from her body, she swings her legs over the side, finding her duffle bag on the floor, she rummages through it. Reminds me of summer camp, she thinks, pulling a tee shirt out, a pair of underwear and cotton shorts, along with her toothbrush, and her towel. Except this time there’s that ‘I’m so gonna die’ vibe. She chuckles, getting up from the bed with her things before padding her way to the bathroom to take a shower. While changing, she thinks, Now I have to tell him, letting out a sigh she looks at herself in the mirror hanging over the sink. This is going to be hard, after keeping this quiet for so long, she finally has to tell someone, when she promised herself that no one would know, they made that promise. When she was done in the bathroom, she found Sherlock standing by the window, playing the violin. As he turns around to look at her, he nods towards his client chair, she sighs and sits, rubbing his hands against her knees in a nervous manner. Sherlock stops playing, and sits in his chair, pressing his fingertips together and putting them under his chin and stares at her expectantly. “You wanted answers.” she states, her eyes glued to the carpeted floor before looking up at him, “So I’ll give them to you.”
Using trash bags, unused grocery bags and plastic sheets, Pakistani artist Khalil Chishtee creates life-sized figures wracked with emotion. He uses these materials as a metaphor for “recycling our identities” or braving the problems of life.