#Disposable Paper Plate .. The plate is made up of paper and film and completely disposable and waterproof

[zetarvac]

What is Thermoforming Tray?

Thermoformed trays are also called plastic inner trays. Thermoformed trays are plastics that use thermoforming manufacturing process to make hard plastic sheets into specific grooves. The products are placed in the grooves to protect and beautify the products.

Thermoformed trays also have material handling trays. Thermoformed trays are mostly used for convenience.

Compared with other types of packaging on the market, thermoformed plastic trays are hygienic, environmentally friendly, low-cost, and easy to clean.

They are widely used in electronics, pharmaceuticals, food and other industries to play the role of anti-static, foil, shockproof, separation and fixation.

The types of thermoforming trays mainly include plastic drip trays, plastic shipping trays, disposable shipping trays, foam trays, automation trays recycling thermoformed trays, vacuum forming trays, etc. This article will take you to learn more about thermoforming plastic trays.

Thermoforming Trays Materials

The raw materials of thermoformed products are only plastic sheet, and the thickness of the film generally does not exceed 1.5mm. Commonly used sheets include: PVC, PET, PP, PS and based on this, flocking sheets, gold-plated sheets and anti-static sheets.

Environmental advantages of thermoformed trays

Reusable

Most thermoformed trays are made of environmentally friendly plastic materials, which greatly reduces environmental pollution and resource consumption, and meets the environmental protection requirements of modern society.

Reusable trays are used frequently in corporate logistics, so recycling within the company is a common method.

Enterprises can reuse used recyclable vacuum forming trays after cleaning, disinfecting and other procedures. In addition to recycling within the company, it is also a common method to send recyclable thermoformed trays to other factories for recycling.

Enterprises can classify and package used recyclable thermoformed trays and send them to other factories that have cooperative relationships with the enterprise for recycling.

Environmentally Friendly

Recyclable thermoformed trays are made of degradable materials, which will not cause pollution to the environment and comply with the environmental protection requirements of modern society.

Save Costs

Recyclable thermoformed trays adopt a reusable design, which can reduce logistics costs and save enterprises' operating costs.

High Reliability

Recyclable thermoformed trays have strong carrying capacity, light weight and good durability, which can meet the logistics needs of enterprises and bring greater value to enterprises.

Twin Sheet Thermoformed Trays

The twin sheet thermoformed tray consists of a top cover and bottom bracket with a lock and a foldable enclosure to form a complete set of combined plastic trays. The top cover and bottom bracket are made of HDPE.

It is formed using a one-time twin sheet thermoforming process. The middle hoarding can be made of PP (polypropylene resin) plastic hollow board or seven-layer corrugated cardboard to make a foldable hoarding.

The entire series is designed to be recycled, and the top cover and bottom bracket can be recycled for up to ten years.

Plastic hoardings and corrugated paper hoardings can also be recycled multiple times and replaced.

This design can greatly reduce customers' logistics operations and warehousing costs.

The middle panels of the tray are designed to be foldable, and the top cover and bottom bracket can be embedded or stacked, which can save 50% of storage space compared with traditional packaging.

The thermoformed top cover and bottom bracket are both thermoformed from two HDPE sheets at one time, which is strong and durable.

Is the assembly or disassembly of thermoformed trays extremely convenient?

One person can complete the disassembly or assembly in a few minutes without using any tools. The top cover and bottom bracket are each designed with four quick locks, which can lock the hoarding, so there is no need to bundle it, saving packing materials and labor costs.

Constraints on the Development of Thermoformed Trays

The Usage Method is Backward

The advantages of thermoforming trays cannot be fully utilized. The thermoformed tray itself is a unitized logistics device born to cooperate with efficient logistics.

It can be said that the tray is the connection point throughout all aspects of the modern logistics system.

However, in our actual use, due to the inconsistent specifications, trays cannot be circulated and used in the logistics operation chain, and are only limited to within the enterprise.

The Cost of the Circulation Process is Too High

From the survey, it can be found that the vast majority of companies' PVC pressure forming trays are recycled within the company, so that the company's products undergo manual handling and loading and unloading many times, which greatly reduces work efficiency and correspondingly increases the circulation cost of the products, thus Reducing the competitiveness of the product in the market.

Difficult to Conform to International Standards

Due to the inconsistent specifications and standards of PVC thermoformed trays, the use of trays in various countries cannot match international transportation equipment (such as international containers, etc.).

In order to adapt to relevant international transportation tools, companies have to order trays from tray manufacturers that are inconsistent with the company's turnover specifications, thereby increasing the company's export costs and reducing the international competitiveness of its products.

Application of Thermoformed Trays

There are many types of thermoformed trays. Trays are one of the types of thermoforming in the thermoforming industry. This type of tray has a strong bearing capacity.

According to the shape, structure and weight of the item, thermoforming tray is suitable for withstanding the force. There are also many thicknesses of materials used.

The choice depends on the packaging material needs of the packaged items. This type of thermoformed tray is commonly used in the electronics industry, toy industry, stationery industry, technology product industry, cosmetics industry, health care products industry, etc.

In terms of use, the commonly used materials for this type of trays include PVC and PS hard film. Generally, transparent thermoformed trays are more commonly used in thermoformed packaging. Other colors can be selected according to individual needs.

Thermoformed trays are widely used in food, medicine, electronics, chemicals, logistics and other industries. They have the advantages of light weight, beautiful appearance, moisture-proof, shock-proof, and anti-oxidation.

Compared with traditional wooden trays, thermoformed trays are more hygienic, durable, easy to clean and disinfect, and meet the environmental protection and hygiene requirements of modern enterprises.

How to Choose High-Quality Thermoformed Trays

When choosing a high-quality thermoformed tray, you need to comprehensively consider the actual needs and choose the tray that suits you.

At the same time, it is also very important to choose a regular thermoformed tray manufacturer.

Thermoforming Trays Material

Thermoformed trays are typically made from polyethylene (PE) or polypropylene (PP), both of which are highly durable and recyclable. You can choose according to your specific needs when choosing.

Tray Size and Shape

The size and shape of thermoformed trays should be determined based on the cargo required to be loaded.

The size of the tray should be slightly larger than the size of the goods so that the goods can be placed stably on the tray.

Tray Load-Bearing Capacity

The load-bearing capacity of a thermoforming tray is determined by its material and construction. When selecting a tray, you should consider whether its load-bearing capacity can meet the requirements of the goods.

Tray Price

The price of thermoformed trays varies based on factors such as material, size, shape, and load-bearing capacity.

When choosing a tray, you should consider its cost performance and choose a tray that suits you.

Cases

Automobile Industry

Twin sheet thermoforming: dedicated thermoforming trays for the automotive industry

For Tier 1 automotive suppliers, in the process of transporting those large mechanical parts or bulk small parts from their factories to the OEM automotive assembly line, they usually need to use large customized trays in order to stack the goods in an orderly manner. Avoid collision damage.

For example, the custom-made tray below is very suitable for transporting those precision mechanical parts to the OEM's automobile assembly line. The forminging process includes the following processes:

First, two sheets are placed at designated positions on the orifice plate of the thermoforming machine, and then the clamp automatically lowers and a moving intermediate frame brings in the other two sheets.

Two sets of halogen lamp heaters will quickly heat the four sheets according to the heating path set by the computer. Precise temperature control is achieved through a fine-hole grid of photocells.

During this process, it is necessary to ensure that the sheet is flat when heated.

Then, the mold is closed. Under the action of a clamping force of hundreds of thousands of Newtons, the two sheets are combined into a strong structural panel.

By introducing a certain pressure of air between the two layers of sheets, the sheets and the mold can fit more closely, and it can also have a certain cooling effect.

After the mold has cooled, immediately open the moving middle frame and remove the two formed trays.

Finally, the robot takes the formed product out of the mold, and then puts the next set of four preheated sheets into the mold to start the next production cycle. One product can be produced every 5 minutes.

Chemical Industry

For the chemical industry, the issue of safe transportation of goods is very important. Thermoformed trays solve this problem with their natural advantages and improve the safety and stability of cargo transportation. The advantages of thermoformed trays include the following:

1. Durability

Thermoformed plastic trays are more sturdy and durable because they can not only bear a large weight but also avoid corrosion by chemical products, so they are widely used in the chemical industry.

2. Lightweight

The main materials of thermoformed trays are thermoplastics, so they are lighter. Whether in cargo transportation, stacking, or storage, labor intensity is greatly reduced. At the same time, it also brings great convenience to the logistics industry.

3. Environmentally friendly materials

Compared with traditional wood or paper materials, thermoformed trays are a more environmentally friendly material. Using thermoformed trays reduces logging and felling of trees and reduces the impact on the environment.

4. Recyclability

The thermoformed plastic tray is made of ultra-high molecular weight polyethylene and can be recycled. Used thermoforming trays can be recycled into new trays, reducing the waste of resources and better protecting the environment.

5. Hygiene

Product transportation in the chemical industry often requires attention to the hygienic environment. The surface of the thermoformed tray has almost no pores and gaps, so it will not accumulate bacteria and viruses, and is highly safe. It is also easy to keep clean and has a long service life.

Conclusion

As an important logistics packaging tool, thermoformed trays play an important role in logistics, manufacturing and retail industries. Its lightweight, durable, easy to clean and environmentally friendly features make it an ideal alternative to traditional wooden and metal trays.

At the same time, with the development of science and technology and the increase in demand, the application prospects of thermoforming trays will be broader. We believe that in the future development, thermoformed trays will have more applications and innovations.

[shagunfilms]

[sunkissedpages]

instead of you [part fourteen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption

word count: 2.6k

series masterlist

“Just that you’re not technically a chef yet,” Tom explained defensively. “You’re not certified.”

“A chef doesn’t need a piece of paper to call themselves a chef,” Leo countered. “Anyone can be a chef. But don’t tell the WAC I said that.”

“Yeah, Tom haven’t you ever seen Ratatouille?” you teased.

“Great movie,” Leo added. “Sam, great job on your dough,” he reiterated.

Sam stuck his tongue out at his brother across the table who rolled his eyes in response as Leo picked up his ball of dough and rolled it in his hands.

“Tom, yours is still a little tough. Keep working on it.”

He nodded and took his dough back to continue kneading it. You noticed his jaw clenched subtly in frustration, but he didn’t say anything else. You watched as he rolled the pasta dough with a little more force, maybe a little too much.

Leo checked yours next and gave you similar feedback to Tom’s, even though Sam had helped you with yours. You didn’t want to think about what kind of feedback you would have gotten on your own.

Your dough was still flaking apart when you went back to working on it, and you tried desperately to hold it together with little success. Sam had left your side to help his mom so you were on your own.

At least Tom was also struggling. You felt a little better knowing he was miserable too.

You were starting to sweat with effort, you were so out of shape that even cooking had you catching your breath. You had thought this was going to be fun, but instead you were having flashbacks to high school P.E. class.

Leo made his way down the rest of the table and checked everyone else’s dough before circling back to you and Tom. He took over for Tom and instructed Sam to finish kneading yours so that he could move on with the lesson. It was embarrassing to be singled out, but Sam assured you it wasn’t your fault. He wasn’t making much progress with yours either.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with yours,” Sam whispered to you.

“I probably did it wrong,” you hissed back.

“I watched you do it, you did it the same way as everyone else.”

“Then why is it being like this?”

“Sometimes food has a mind of its own,” Leo interjected, making you realize the entire class had been listening to you and Sam’s back and forth. “This is good enough, though. We can set it aside with the other balls of dough to let them rest while we make the fillings.”

You and Tom set your sad pasta balls on the counter with the others before moving to the sink to rinse your hands.

“I think they’ll still taste good,” Tom said thoughtfully as he offered the bottle of soap to you and pumped some into your hands.

“I hope so.”

“It’s pasta, it’s almost impossible to fuck it up.”

“Yet somehow we still managed to.”

“Some would say it’s talent,” he said and shrugged.

You bumped his shoulder with your own as you fought over the water stream. You managed to stick your hands in first and Tom put his above yours only for you to shove them away.

“Hey!”

“You’re completely ruining the purpose of washing my hands!”

“I have soap on my hands, you have soap on your hands, what's the issue?”

“And you’re washing off your germs and they’re going on my hands now!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll wait my turn,” he seceded and let you finish washing your hands before he rinsed off his own.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Making the fillings for the pasta was a much simpler process than making the dough. All you had to do was mix certain ingredients together. It didn’t matter what order you added them, if you whisked fast or slow, the only important thing was that everything made it into the bowl one way or another.

You worked in pairs for this step. Sam mixed together the pesto filling while you did the parmesan-truffle one.

“This is different than the pesto I make,” he said, looking at the mixture in his bowl.

You frowned. “But I like your pesto.”

“It’ll still be good, baby,” he assured you with a kiss to the forehead. “Don’t worry.”

When the fillings were done it was time to revisit the balls of dough and roll them into pasta. Sam explained it to you like rolling Play-Doh, but it was far more difficult in your opinion. Play-Doh was nowhere near as stubborn as this. The pasta dough somehow retained tension, and would bounce back every time you tried to stretch it.

Sam ended up having to help you and Tom because both of you were starting at a disadvantage with your fucked up dough.

“I never want to hear you say I have it easier than you ever again,” Sam warned as he folded your strands of dough into raviolis.

The class had moved on to the final step, shaping and filling the noodles, but you had already tapped out. Sam was done with his portion before you had even finished one so he had taken over for you.

“I’m sorry for saying that,” you said, remembering all the times you had teased him for stressing out over his ‘soufflé final’ or ‘crepe labs’. “I would much rather be writing a paper right now.”

He shrugged. “Everyone has their strengths.”

“I’m starting to think that Ratatouille movie was bullshit,” you groaned.

“How ironic,” Tom snorted across from you.

He was really starting to get on your nerves. But you let his comment go, not allowing your temper to get the better of you. He was still Sam’s family, even if they had a... complicated relationship.

When the class finally settled in the dining room of the restaurant to eat you were sweaty, sore, and exhausted. You could feel your skin sticking to the leather seat, and you felt severely underdressed. Back in the kitchen you hadn’t been so self-conscious. But now you couldn’t stop thinking about your appearance.

The atmosphere was much more sophisticated. The lights were dim, and soft music played in the background. All of the other guests were following an unspoken black-tie dress code while the fifteen of you were still wearing your disposable aprons, only now they were covered in flour and egg yolk.

And to make it worse-

“Smile!”

Nikki held up her phone and motioned for you and Sam to scoot your chairs closer together. You took a deep breath and complied, leaning your head against your fake boyfriend’s and managing a grin. You really didn’t want this moment to be immortalized, but you didn’t want to be difficult either.

The camera flashed once, then again. Sam wrapped a hand around your waist and pulled your body against his, pressing a kiss to your cheek for another picture. You scrunched up your face as the flash went off, the tickle of his breath against your skin and the feather-light touch of his lips making you squeeze your eyes shut.

“That’s a good one!” Nikki complimented, even though you were sure it wasn’t as flattering as she was making it out to be.

The pasta was served with a glass of red wine for everyone. Sam was right, the pesto was different from his, but it was still good. It was no match for his recipe, but the handmade pasta did give it a few bonus points. You were sure you hadn’t gotten any of the noodles you made because all of the ones on your plate were perfect. It didn’t feel fair that you got to enjoy somebody else’s hard work while they got your shitty excuse of a ravioli.

But as the wine dwindled from your glass the negative thoughts began to ebb away too. Your muscles, though still sore, relaxed slightly and you rested your head on Sam’s shoulder as everyone else finished their meals around you. The conversation carried on without your contribution. Your social battery had died hours ago, but you were content to listen to the Hollands chat with other students at the table.

You weren’t a huge fan of wine, but the one served with dinner was palatable, and to be honest you weren’t one to turn down complimentary alcohol anyway. It tasted more expensive than anything you had ever drank, like the equivalent of velvet on your tongue. You finished your glass and the rest of Harry’s.

-

The next few days in Florence passed in a similar fashion. You ate a lot of carbs, drank a lot of alcohol and let the business of the itinerary overwhelm you. It was getting tiring, living in an act. Trailing along behind the Hollands like a dog, worn on Sam’s arm like an accessory.

You had known what you were getting into, and you were trying your best to enjoy the experiences- because who the fuck knows when you’ll ever get to go on such a nice vacation again, but pretending to be in love with your best friend was a harder feat than you had thought.

It felt like being in a school play. Every move and phrase had to be intentional. You tread the lines of your relationship with rehearsed expertise. And you had to watch what you said, because everyone’s eyes were on you. At least that’s what it felt like.

Sam’s parents were easy. They fully bought into your lie, seeing what they wanted to. They usually left you to your own devices, too. His brothers were the ones who needed convincing. Not even Harry, though. Tom was the problem. Tom was always the problem.

You were in Rome now, walking back to the hotel from the Colosseum. Sam had his arm slung around your shoulders and was talking his twin brother’s ear off about the Gladiators and inaccuracies in films about Ancient Rome.

You didn’t think you’d seen him this excited the entire trip. It was cute, the way he talked with his hands and looked off into the distance whenever he was really engaged in something. Harry was also cute. He was trying his best to keep up with Sam, nodding his head at all the right points, asking questions when there was a pause in conversation.

“Yeah, gladiators fucking unionized,” Sam explained. “They put their lives on the line all the time, ya know? Might as well get benefits.”

“If I was a gladiator I’d join their union,” you said, adding to the conversation for the first time in a while.

“There were women gladiators too, babe! You totally could’ve been one.”

You laughed. “You remember my season on the intramural dodgeball team? I wouldn’t last a day. But I appreciate the thought, Sammy.”

You had dinner in the restaurant attached to the hotel lobby. Nikki passed around her Canon for everyone to look through the pictures from the day while a bottle of limoncello was passed around the table.

You’d scarfed down your pasta and passed on dessert in favor of another shot of limoncello. Rookie mistake.

In the past the sugary drink had always tasted like cough syrup to you, but this batch tasted like straight-up lemonade. You were tipsy, bordering on drunk, but nowhere near blacked. Nikki and Dom turned in around shot three, leaving the tab open for the four of you. Sam went upstairs next, having gone too hard too fast on the limoncello (he was on shot five when his parents went back to their room).

Then it was just You, Harry, and Tom. You told Sam you’d join him in a bit after the pianist played a couple more songs. In all honesty, the music reminded you of Sam. Back at school you could always find Sam in the music hall if he wasn’t in the culinary building. You’d always hear him playing as soon as you walked through the double doors. You could always tell it was him at the keys by the way the playing sounded. He was self-taught, but still a genius in your mind. He didn’t need any formal training to make beautiful music, and that’s what you loved about it.

When he moved out of the dorms and into an apartment he bought a keyboard, and you’d spend nights together in his room illegally pirating sheet music for him to learn new songs. He’d play whatever you requested, and if he didn’t know how to play it he’d teach himself.

The pianist in the restaurant played with a little more expertise. The notes sounded refined, perfected. Sam always told you that perfect music was restrained music, that real music had flaws, that a song should sound a little different every time it was played.

After an encore of Beethoven the man at the piano stood from his bench and took a bow, passing his hat around the room to collect tips. Tom dropped a bill into the hat and you did as well, handing it back to the man afterwards. He dumped the contents of the hat into a briefcase and closed the lid of the piano, thanking everyone in the audience for their donations.

“Well, I think I’m going to head up now,” Harry said, yawning for emphasis. “We still have to get up at the ass crack of dawn even though we’ll all probably be hungover.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tom said cockily, then turned to you. “One more shot?”

The bottle of limoncello was almost empty anyway. Might as well finish it off, it’d be a shame to let it go to waste, right?

“Hit me.”

“God, you’re both going to be so fucked tomorrow,” Harry groaned.

“We’ll be fine,” Tom insisted, rolling his eyes at his younger brother.

“Good night, Harry,” you sang, waving at him as he walked off.

“Yeah whatever.”

Tom wasted no time pouring you both a shot of what was left of the limoncello. The restaurant was beginning to clear out so he worked fast, filling the glasses up to the marked line. You both took one and clinked them together before throwing them back.

You winced at the burning sensation in the back of your throat and put the glass back on the table, searching for something to chase the shot with. Your eyes fell to Tom, lingering on his cheeks, his lips, both pink from the alcohol or something else. You flicked your gaze down to his neck, his collarbone that was peeking out from the neckline of his shirt. You thought about how it would feel to kiss him there, to run your tongue over a love bite you’d given him.

You forced your gaze back to his eyes, hoping he hadn’t caught you staring. You had to act uninterested, you couldn’t let on to- but he was staring back. His eyes were intense, and almost impossible to read in the darkness of the room. You knew you should look away, knew you had to keep up appearances, but you couldn’t.

Later you’d blame it on the alcohol, but in that moment you knew the limoncello wasn’t what was making your head spin, or your what was making your vision cloudy.

You were about to leave the table, about to rush to the elevator and back to Sam but then suddenly Tom was kissing you. He cradled your head in his hand and tilted your chin up to meet his lips. It wasn’t desperate or messy like most drunk kisses were. Instead, it was delicate. You swore you could feel every line of his lips against yours, feel his heartbeat through his hands on your cheek.

It was only for a second, not enough time for you to react or reciprocate and then he was pulling away, eyes wide with panic.

“Please don’t tell Sam.”

logging off before i get yelled at but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

forever tags: @mischiefmanaged49 @bookingbee @cloverrover @captainbuckyy @perhaps-he-schnapped-blog @awkwardfangirl2014 @the-queen-procrastinator @tastingthestarz @sleepybesson @everythingbooknerd @sunshine96love @bitchymathematician @livingincompletesilence @melsbooktrash @swim-deep-or-die @fizzy828 @spider-slutt @theamuz @nedthegay @astroasethic @stuckonspidey @darlingtholland @sgtbookybarnes @tinyplanet-explorers @mildcockandballtorture @uglypastels @gennyld @devin-marie @r-wooooosh @hell-yeah-peter-parker @itssnowingandimstuckinside @relise-thefury @osteporosis @legendsofwholock @peterunderoos @fuckyeahhomerun @nobelwarriorheroes @delicately-important-trash @thwip-it-real-good @claryfray101 @softholand @tomhollandseverything @cool-ultra-nerd @jillanaholland @dinasaur36 @farfromhaz @hanlons-wp @moon-390 @parkerstylesperalta @httpchrisevans @screeching-student-unknown @almondholland @noisyzineeggsbandit @5sos-microwave @quackson-love @smilealways19 @quackeroos @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @wolvesofwinter @mukesnugget @mytonycinematicuniverse @itsjusttor @percysmcu @peterquillzsblog @lovewolfspirit @biebsmylife95 @a-disappointing-teen-author @justanotherusername80 @b-buckys @sunkisseddreamer @hufflepuffprincess24 @princessxcryxbaby @tinyyoungblood @holyfrickfracks @amii-nyc @clara-licht @veryholland @captainamirica @ultrunning @cocoamoonmalfoy @nellbellzz-blog @bookfrog242 @honeymoonlover @nellabellaa @its-the-solar-system @spiitfiires @tomhollandfangirl1 @parkeromanoff @randomstufflol29 @pogueslandia @hollandswife @bunnyweasley23 @determined-overthinker @madz-holland

send me an ask to be added/ removed from a taglist

[angelicichor]

I don’t know if request are open, but if they are, can I request the slasher with an actress s/o? For musical theater and the big screen(movies/shows)?

I don’t really take requests anymore, because I’ve mostly lost my passion for writing after the last few months, but honestly, sure, I’ll try. Sorry if those are not the boys you were hoping for 💔

Slashers (Brahms, Billy Lenz, Jason) with an actress s/o.

Brahms (Big Screen - Horror):

It was a bizarre thing, the way you met, most of all. After what happened with Greta his house was set for sale and Brahms was getting ready for the worst - rotting in this mansion alone after starving to death. He had no way to reclaim the property - after all, Brahms Heelshire was considered dead for ages now and with his parents’ suicide, the family’s fortune was gone as well. There was really no hope for him, it was a matter of days, weeks, months at best. You can only survive on rotting leftovers and attic rats for so long, but luckily a week was all that he needed for a young woman to come visit his old house, alongside a home agent. 

The moment she stepped in his eyes were glued to her, following the best that he could inside the old mansion’s walls. He saw her smile at the old furniture, smiled himself when she started adoring the library and when she sat down on the bed upstairs, looking around hopefully, he could barely contain his breath of relief, knowing that she was in love with the place. And so, with the papers signed the very next day, he had a new hope enter his life. A beautiful woman named [Y/N] [L/N].

This time - he told himself - he would take things slower, he’d be more careful. No stealing clothes, no misplacing things, no heavy walking in the attic at night. The news about the “murder” in the house were still fresh and he knew that it would make any new resident suspicious, even if the body was never found.

Brahms wanted to be careful, but unfortunately hunger didn’t make things easy. Climbing the walls was harder with his muscles fading, he’d stumble ever so often, getting dizzy and his breathing became louder as his usual activities would become more and more straining with what little food he was getting. The girl started getting wary and called the police more than once, but they couldn’t find anything, he still had enough knowledge of the house to disappear when he needed to.

He put the doll out for a while, hoping she would fall for it, like Greta did, believing that it was haunted, but she only picked it up once, letting a small smile grow on her face, then put it down, never to touch it again. Something seemed off ever since then. She’d walk around a bit more relaxed, take longer making breakfast and left more on the plate, as if she was leaving it for him, but who knew, really. It wasn’t that hard to get the food, since most of the days she’d be gone, usually right after a call on her personal phone from someone she addressed extremely politely. An Employer, from what Brahms could tell. He didn’t like it when she was gone, but in his current state there was nothing he could do about it. She was the only reason he was still alive, after all.

And he was grateful for it. To the point where he’d seek out precious item in the house, leaving it in places he knew she’d look. Pearls and diamonds from his mother’s jewelry box. Old porcelain figurines, anything to show her that the “spirit” inside the house was not wishing her any harm and she seemed to be more than pleased with them.

Then one day she seemed very upset, almost out of nowhere, just came back to the house like that, then quickly broke down in tears and through the crack in one of the walls he could see a tear in her shirt, almost as if somebody tried to tear it open. He didn’t like that. Not one bit. And soon enough he managed to connect the dots, with her phone calls concerning a “man that attacked her” and the weird hooded character that was stalking outside the mansion. Well, he didn’t stalk there for too long. The Stalker was much smaller than him, it was so easy to pin him to the ground and choke the lights out of him, in a grip that bruised and left very little for the man in the struggling department. It was over, quickly and almost completely without any noise. A good job, if Brahms were the type to praise himself.

He was about to dispose of the corpse, but a click and a swish stopped him, as the back door opened rather quickly and his beautiful, terrified [y/n] stepped out of the house, looking around scared, with a kitchen knife in one hand and her phone in the other, flashing a light... right at Brahms and his new victim. 

For a moment time stopped as they both looked at eachother, her eyes wide in shock - face losing all color from fear, and him in his porcelain mask, with bloody scratches on his forearms from the stalker’s futile struggles. He was the first to move, rising slowly, carefully, putting his hands up, trying to shrink his arms in a failed attempt to make himself seem smaller, but from the way her body trembled he could tell that it wasn’t working, so with a gulp and an ache in his throat he spoke to her: “P-please, don’t panic. Please.”  His voice was cracking between his childish illusion and his real voice, terrified, but assertive.  “Who-- Who the hell--?” she tried to speak, backing off slowly as he stepped forward, trying to get closer. “He was-- That man was watching you, he-- you were attacked and he--” he tried explaining, not knowing how to form his words without admitting that he’s been stalking her as well, just... with much less violent intent. “You’re that think, right? You’re the one who’s been leaving me things, right? WHO ARE YOU?” she yelled, coming back into the house and almost closing the back door, but Brahms’ hand caught it fast enough to pull it back, coming in after her, making the girl yelp at the sheer force he possesed, even being as malnourished as he was. “Brahms... my name’s Brahms, please, don’t run. I don’t want to have to hurt you.” 

And with that you two connected, learning about eachother, about what happened to Brahms and why he hid from you, a tale tragic enough for you to trust him and give him a proper home, even if feeding him was an absolute nightmare in the beginning, as he was starving, literally.

He quickly learned that you’re a horror actress, a real-life “scream queen”, but you and your manager were fighting for a bigger role - as a killer, not the one constantly having to run from the killer. It was going to be amazing, something to finally turn your career around and the filming was going WONDERFUL so far, but the stress WAS getting to you, so when he first started leaving you gifts, you were kind of happy that some weird spirit in this house was trying to cheer you up. Little did you know that in reality it was just a very smelly wall man, with a huge crush on you. Life is surprising like that.

♥ Brahms will be extremely supportive of your career, as he saw that all this time when you’d leave, you’d always come back, so he wasn’t as anxious about you running away as he’d usually be.

♥ Being a horror actress helps not freak out with him always sneaking up on you (unintentional as it might be). It’s a real life saver.

♥ Once your movie comes out, he might be excited enough to go out to the theater and watch it with you. You assure him that his mask won’t be a problem, since a lot of horror nerds dress up for new movie screenings. 

♥ If you ask him, he’ll be more than happy to rehearse with you and act some scenes out, but if there’s any romance in the script, expect to have to sit down with him for a very, VERY long talk about how screen romance is just a job and there are no real emotions involved.

♥ He’ll beg you to watch EVERY single thing you’ve ever been in. Yes, even the commercials. 

Billy (Big Screen):

There are not a lot of consistent thoughts that pop into Billy’s head, but the moment he saw you, there was one and a very clear one at that - “I know her.”

And yes, he did, even if the memory was hazy. He remembered a little girl on his mother’s TV screen, during Christmas, sitting on the floor with the dumbest, cutest smile, unpacking her presents as her mom and dad watched. He remembered how beautiful that girl seemed to him and how jealous he felt seeing her this happy. The boy pouted then, something he didn’t do often, as well as huffing in anger, but not loud enough for him mom to hear him, no, he was supposed to be a good boy and stay upstairs, but the music from the TV and that beautiful voice of this girl lead him downstairs, to peek at the snowy screen, adoring that creature.

But this girl was a bit different. Sure, he would still recognize her beautiful eyes and that hair that he loved so much, but she was bigger. Not a girl anymore, no, a woman, a stunning, gorgeous woman that his whole body burned for from the moment he saw her. A bold, burning emotion running through his body - “Mine. Mine, MINE!” and that was something you couldn’t really run from, he wouldn’t let you. 

One night, one murder, then two, a man and a girl and then you were faced with a man who was willing to do ANYTHING to keep you. Thankfully, you were smart enough to make compromise with him, knowing that if you even tried to call the police (again, that is, and the first time made him very, VERY angry), he’d make sure that you’re his forever.

Part of it could’ve been Stockholm Syndrome, but Billy quickly grew on you. Bold, loud, perverted, but also passionate and caring, as long as you wouldn’t overstep your boundaries with him. Every day he’d appear out of nowhere and just linger close to you, wanting to touch you, but not doing that, clearly afraid you would run. You weren’t something he wanted to play with, no, you were his person, the only person he didn’t want to hurt and when the impulses came, he’d run off to contain them. The wailing let you know how hard was he trying, just so he wouldn’t lose your beauty, his precious Christmas Angel. His gorgeous [y/n].

He was a mess, but a beautiful one to you, adoring every part of your body, every part of you, listening, learning, absorbing all of you as well as he could and the gifts he would leave at your bedroom door ever so often proved just how good of a listener he really was. The new book that you wanted, a dress almost the same as you had described to him, baskets of your favorite fruit... anything you’d ask for and he wished you’d ask for more, but you were too concerned about where his gifts are coming from to give him more ideas. Especially since that one sunhat you wanted came with a splatter of blood on the blue ribbon...

Either way, you were happy with your new “housemate” and you gladly stayed.

♥ Billy will get anxious whenever you have to leave to film anything. Expect messy calls from him every half an hour or so, probably less and if you don’t answer even one of them, the next one will be even more frantic than the other ones. He’ll cling to you like hell every time you come back home.

♥ He found a dress that looked a bit like the one you’ve worn as a child to that one Christmas movie. He asked you to wear it for him and sit down, then smile at him. You never saw a man pop a boner as fast as he did when you did that.

♥ This man will literally worship you and you know that when he swears he’d kill for you, he means it. When you mention that you’ve starred in other movies, his eyes pretty much started sparkling with joy. Congratulations, your movies are his new hyperfixiation.

♥ NEVER show him any kissing or sex scenes in your movies. Just don’t. He won’t be able to comprehend that they were done in the past or that they mean nothing. Seeing them would break his heart.

♥ Once he realizes you have your own camera he asks if you could star in your own movie... Located wholly in your bedroom, on your bed, with him pounding your pretty litte cu--

♥ Biggest fan ever, but don’t take him outside for any meet & greets, because it WILL turn into a bloodbath. 

Jason (Theater): 

It was a very faint memory for him, one of the very few ones from his childhood that stood up a bit more, even now, years later. A memory of a young woman, singing on the theater scene in her songbird voice. It was mesmerizing and a once-in-a-lifetime thing for a poor kid like him. His mother just found the tickets at random and used them, even though she knew how dangerous that could’ve been.

Those times were long past him and that girl was definitely either an old woman now or dead, but on this particular night something brought this memory forward, a songbird-like voice, singing a peaceful song, surrounded by other voices. A girl at a campfire with her friends, singing for them as another person played the guitar. An angel sent just for him to soothe his ragefull soul.

That one night nobody got killed, but a soul was lost either way. 

All you remembered was a loud noise in front of your noise, then silence that let you fall asleep. What seemed like hours later you woke up in an old cabin, cuddled up to someone’s chest and when you looked up a hockey mask stared right back at you, making you shriek and faint. When you came to you were resting on a moldy bed, dizzy, nauseous and with a hulking figure waiting for you to wake up in the corner of the room, guarding you like a sentinel.  Congratulations, you’ve been kidnapped by The Crystal Lake legend himself - Jason Voorhees, because for once he looked at someone and got convinced that you were in fact an Angel, sent to him by his mother to protect.

♥ I’m sorry to say, but being under Jason’s protection means that you’re most likely never leaving the forest again or not for a very long time. He’s not a man that trust others easily and while he knows an angel wouldn’t betray him, he’s not convinced that the others won’t hurt you instead.

♥ He’ll take care of you - fixing up the cabin, hunting for you, even cooking. He’ll make sure you’re never unhappy because you’re lacking something, even if it’s technology, he’ll manage to get it for you over time. You’re still forbidden from coming anywhere close to the campers that come ever so often. They’re dangerous.

♥ When you tell him that you work in musical theater, he will communicate to you that he wants to hear you sing. He’ll gladly watch you perform the whole play by yourself if you’ll be in the mood for that.

♥ Once he realizes you live not that far away, he might let you go on the promise that you’ll come back. If not he will hunt you back and you don’t want that to happen... After all - an angel wouldn’t break a promise and if you’re not an angel... you’re as good as dead.

♥ He’ll love you whole, as long as you don’t betray him. 

♥ If you find him a huge hooded jacket and cologne strong enough to mask his smell, you may be able to convince him to come down from the forest to watch you in a play. It’ll be a hard sell, though.

[crowdedimagines]

Mistletoe - David Dobrik

Today is the last day that whole group is going to be in Los Angeles. It’s always hard because we want to go home to our families, but we all have to go our separate ways.

“Y/n!” voices cheer as I walk in David’s front door.

“Merry Christmas!” I cheer right back as I walk in. I set down an armful of presents off under the tree. We’ve carried on this tradition every since David got this house, we all show up. Even if we don’t all celebrate, there’s something about being together to celebrate a holiday and pick things out for each other.

“We’re having dinner, then presents after.” Natalie explains.

“Y/n!” David grins, “Merry Christmas.” He walks out of his room and pulls me in for a hug.

“Merry Christmas, Dave.” I hug back.

“Wow, when I tried to get a hug earlier, you literally pushed me away.” Zane yells from the living room.

“That’s because you’re Zane.” David teases.

“How can I help?” I got there a little early so I can help set things up. Carly, Scott, Kristen, Erin, TJ, Heath, and Mariah are all here too. They’re all just sitting on the couch enjoying themselves. Jason, Natalie, and David are all in the kitchen.

“Could you set the table?” Natalie asks as she moves food into other dishes.

“Absolutely!” I grin. I take the tablecloth off of the island and lay it out over the tables for us to all sit at. I decorate the table and move some things around so everything is perfect. One by one, more people show up until now everyone is here and all of the food is almost ready. David is running around filming a montage and asking people questions.

“Y/n, could you grab the plates?” Jason asks, he carries the large roasting pan which either contains turkey or ham over to the center of the table.

“Yeah, where are they?” I get up from my spot on the couch.

“They’re in the spare bedroom closet with all the other storage.” Natalie explains, my eyes go wide for a second, “No, I can just do it-”

She starts to set down what she had been previously been doing.

“No no, I can do it.” I reassure.

I make my way to the extra bedroom and open the closet to be met with a stack of clear totes. They’re all filled with a mixture of things David can’t get rid off, stuff he actually needs, and PR packages.

“I was sent to help.” Jeff laughs announcing himself as he walks in.

“Yeah, I just might need it.”

He helps me take a few out before we find the right one. We put everything back the way it was, only Jeff is carrying a heavy stack of nicer plates now.

“Success?” Erin asks from the couch. Jeff and I stop to show off the plates with a grin.

“Yeah-”

“Oh my god!” Zane screams out interrupting me.

“What?” I ask, question is burst of excitement.

“Mistletoe!” He points to the spot above our heads. I look up to see that he’s right. I don’t remember that being there in the past, it must be a new decoration that was added today.

I turn to look at Jeff and he’s biting back a smile, his cheeks tinted in pink.

“What? Are you nervous or something?” I tease.

“I didn’t- I mean- I” He stutters while trying to come up with anything to say.

“Stop panicking. It’s only a mistletoe kiss.” I stand up on my toes and press my lips to his in a quick kiss. The group screams in shock that I actually did that. It’s not a big deal, it’s not like people in our group haven’t kissed for bits or other randomness.

He stands there for a few seconds, just a shy smile on his face. I take the plates out of his hands and walk back over to the table and start placing them around. I can feel David watching me as I do it.

“You okay, Dave?” I ask, looking up to finally meet his eyes.

“No, I’m good!” He smiles tight lipped.

“Alright, I think we’re ready!” Jason cheers.

The rest of the group scrambles over to take a seat and grab something to drink. I take a seat somewhat towards the end of the table near David. I sit on David’s right with Natalie to my right.

“I just want to thank all of you for being a part of my life. It’s cheesy, I know, but I really am glad to be hanging out with so many people who are half my age!” Jason holds up his glass, “But honestly, this holiday really is amazing to spend with you guys. I love wasting money on gifts you don’t care about.”

We all laugh throughout Jason’s toast. After he sits back down to David expecting him to say something too.

“Dig in!” He yells.

We all hesitate for a second, but dig in regardless. I guess David never really has been a sentimental guy anyway. We all dive into conversation, David being unusually quiet.

“Hey are you okay?” I ask, placing a gentle hand on his knee.

“Mhm.” He nods as he continues to shovel in more food.

“Dave.” I lean down to try and force eye contact again, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” he finally picks up his head and smiles at me. Maybe if we were still newly friends I would believe that it was a genuine smile. Instead of continuing to badger him for the rest of the meal, I focus on the group conversation again.

“Present time!” Erin cheers.

We all take our plates and clear them before sitting in the living room. We all pass our presents around to whoever they belong to.

“No cars this year, right?” I tease, taking a seat next to David.

“No cars this year.” David agrees, finally smiling. He throws an arm around the back of the couch around me. I don’t know what was wrong before, but he seems to be happy now.

One by one we all get to open our presents. Taylor gets to open the designer wallet I got her, which she completely flipped out over. Jason gets the massage gun I got him. Mariah for the mini filming get that she can use for youtube or to help record her dancing for Tik Tok. There were countless other presents too.

“Wait, what is this?” Jeff asks, digging to the bottom of the bag.

“It’s a toy for Nerf.” I explain with a laugh. I picked out other things for him, but that was a random add on that I thought was funny.

“Ahh, it’s perfect.”

He holds it up for everyone to see.

“Thank you.” He gets up from his spot on the other side of the room to give me a hug. I lean forward and mutter an ‘of course’.

I lean back and the attention moves onto Zane who was next for opening. David lets out a loud sigh and pulls back his arm. I try to ignore the mood swings he’s going through. Finally it’s made its way to me.

“My turn!” I sing with a laugh.

I receive cute clothes from Carly and Erin. Zane, Heath, and Matt all joined in to buy me a new lens for my camera. Jeff got me a pair of the shoes I had been complaining about wanting for a while and a coupon to visit Nerf anytime I want. Natalie and I unintentionally got each other the same exact bag from Gucci for each other because we loved it so much. We knew the other would too, since we have similar taste.

“Last one.” Carly hands me the last on from my stack on the floor.

“David?” I ask reading the tag on the top of the smaller box. I smile looking over at him. He has a red face and he’s chewing his bottom lip.

“Actually Y/n can I talk to you?” David interrupts, his hand suddenly stops me from tearing through the paper.

The room falls in to a dead silence.

“Yeah.” David stands up, “Sure, Dave.”

I follow where he leads into his room, he shuts the door behind him softly. My heart is racing over what this could be about.

“Hey Dave, what’s going on?” I ask as I take a seat on his bed.

He slowly walks over and stops in front of me. I look up and wait for an answer as he takes a deep breath before pacing again.

“I need to tell you something.”

“You can tell me anything, what’s going on? You’re making me nervous! Please sit.”

Finally he takes a seat on the bed, I turn to actually face him.

“I just wanted to do this in private because I had this whole plan with and I couldn’t go through with it with all of our friends out there. And Jeff.”

“What are you-”

David pulls out the gift from him that I had started to open from behind his back.

“Here, you can open it now.”

I hesitantly open it. It’s filled with random knickknacks from what I can best tell.

“What is all of this?” I smile looking back up at him.

“This,” He grabs the top item on the box, “is the wristband I was wearing the night we first met in that club. I took it off after dropping you off and filming with you, and I knew it was worth saving I knew you were going to be a big part of my life.”

I look up and his eyes are starting to water, I don’t dare say anything because I know that I’m not far behind him if he keeps this up.

“This is the receipt from the first time you made me run out and buy you chocolate from the gas station by my apartment. It was the first time we ever had a sleepover.”

He lets out a laugh, “That was in the shitty Dom apartment, I’m lucky you didn’t run then.” We both chuckle, I wipe away a stray tear drifting down my cheek.

“This is a piece of drywall from when you tried to convince me that you could in fact do a handstand and ended up putting a hole in my wall.”

We both laugh at the memory. He reaches in again to grab another object.

“This is the polaroid you gave me when you first got that camera. I barely opened my door and a flash went off. Now I can get you back though with my disposable cameras.”

“This is gross, but it’s a tissue that you gave me when Liza and I broke up. You stayed up with me for hours to listen to my cry basically and just make sure I wasn’t alone.”

He shakes his head looking down at it. I don’t know where exactly he’s going with this trip down memory lane, but it’s making my heart jerk.

“This is a movie ticket from the first time you stole my clothes. I couldn’t believe how good you looked wearing my sweatshirt. You claimed that movie theaters are always cold.”

“They are!” I interrupt.

“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes with a smile.

“This is the plane ticket from the first time I took you home to Chicago. You had no idea, but that whole trip was planned so you could meet my family.”

I nudge his shoulder lightly with mine, a steady stream of tears our drifting down both of our faces at this point.

He reaches in once again, there are few things left now.

“This is a dried up rose petal from when I tried to go over to your apartment to tell you that I loved you, but I chickened out.”

“This rose petal is almost two years old. I have been in love with you for two years, and I know that I always will. I just needed you to know. I couldn’t go another year without telling you. You’re my best friend, I want to tell you everything. I just love you so much, and I would love it if you’re comfortable staying in my life as a friend. I know you and Jeff are-”

“Jeff and I?” I interrupt.

“The kiss!” He says rolling his eyes.

“It was just mistletoe!” It’s my turn to roll my eyes now, “I would’ve kissed Natalie under it. It didn’t mean anything, it was only friendly.”

“Oh.” He bites his bottom lip.

“Wow, you were so jealous!” I grin.

“I wasn’t that jealous.” He shrugs, trying to act nonchalant.

“You totally were, and that’s okay.”

“It is?” He looks up, wiping his last trail of tears from a few minutes ago.

“It is, because I’m in love with you too, David.”

“You are?”

“Duh!” I tease.

“Oh thankgod, I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous.” He pulls me in for a hug.

“You did a really good job, Dave. Very sweet. Very sentimental.” I grin.

“I knew it would pay off keeping all of this crap for so long!” He throws the stuff back on the bed.

“Hey! It’s not crap.” I pick it all back up and put it back in the box.

“No, I know.” He presses a kiss to edge of my jaw.

“You missed.” I look up, his face being closer to mine now than it’s maybe ever been.

“What?” His voice is barely a whisper, he gulps loudly.

I smirk and tilt my head forward to our lips can meet after years of waiting. It’s like all this time was building up because it feels like a release of endorphins and excitement. I can feel his lips smiling against mine.

“Worth the wait?” I ask, I stand up so we can head back out to our friends who I’m sure are wondering what’s going on.

“Definitely worth the wait.”

“What’s going on? Are you guys okay?” Jason asks, hearing the door open and noticing us walk out. Everyone turns to look at us. We’re just standing outside of David’s room, eyes red and puffy. We both have smiles on our faces, but I’m sure it’s a confusing look. I’m sure they’ve just spent the last ten minutes talking about us.

I take a look at David and smile, we both walk in a little closer to the living room to see everyone.

“We’re great actually.” I grin, taking David’s hand in mine.

“Really great.” David agrees with a squeeze of my hand.

“Hey look guys, Mistletoe!”

~

i really hope you guys love this as much as i do. xx

[joe-mazzello-archive]

Party For One

A Joe Mazzello x Fem!Reader fic

Word Count: 4k whoopsssss

Rating: PG

Warnings: language, drinking, angst for most of it, a teeny bit of fluff, joe is a bit of a shithead in this one, sorry gang

A/N: hey remember how i was supposed to be finishing doj part two and instead i word-vomited this out in five hours at work yesterday? anyway, enjoy.

He hasn’t changed a bit, you thought to yourself as you watched him, always the life of the party. He’d been that way all through high school, the summers you saw him between college semesters, and the few gatherings he made appearances at when he was home.

You’d always been right beside him, too. Pre-gaming at a friend’s house, sharing the mic during karaoke, rubbing his back as he leaned over the toilet, crashing on the couch or the floor or wherever you could find a spot.

But now you were out of your element. You were in his other world. You were surrounded by vaguely familiar faces, people you knew you had probably seen in a movie or a tv show but you couldn’t place them exactly. And there he was, across the room, animatedly entertaining a small group with some anecdote you’d probably heard before.

He was obviously the reason you were here. He had been begging you to come out to Los Angeles for years now. Years of you’d love it out here and you and I both know you’d take the industry by storm and I miss my best friend. Eventually, you relented. Mostly because your career in real estate was exhaustingly boring and you needed a change. Acting had always been something you enjoyed but never looked at as a career opportunity until now. But you had to admit, you missed your best friend too.

So you packed up everything, drove across the country, and settled into Joe’s guest room. You had a meeting with his agency on Monday, but of course Joe, always the party host, insisted that you needed a welcoming get-together upon arrival. Which soon turned into a complete blow-out. In fact, you were pretty sure most of the guests in attendance had no idea what the party’s true origin was, let alone who you were.

So there you were, only hours since you had arrived, left to nurse your beer off in the corner. Part of you wished you and Joe could have had a quiet night in, catching up over pizza and a comedy special. But you knew deep down that would have just exacerbated the situation you found yourself in. Seeing Joe in the flesh once again had caused some...feelings to resurface. Feelings that you had worked for years to suppress, and had been hoping were completely gone by now.

All it took was him opening his front door and pulling you into a tight hug for all of those feelings to come rushing right back.

Sometimes he did things that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, he felt the same. Like the way he used to wrap a protective arm around you when the two of you walked around Brooklyn at night. The way he could sense when you were having a rough day just through your texts, and suddenly a delivery of Insomnia Cookies would arrive at your apartment door. The way every hello and goodbye hug lasted just a moment longer than was probably appropriate for two friends. But surely you were reading into it.

You knew he wasn’t avoiding you. No, he couldn’t be. Sure, the second other guests had started to arrive, his focus turned from you to them. And sure, he hadn’t given you the time of day since. But he wasn’t avoiding you, no. He was just a popular guy, he always had been.

You pushed those negative thoughts away, not willing to accept them.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” sounded a familiar voice with a British lilt from behind you. You turned and were met with ocean blue eyes and chiseled cheekbones.

“Gwil,” you breathed out, almost in relief. Someone you knew. The tall man pulled you in for a bear hug, immediately putting you at ease. You appreciated the gesture considering you and Gwil weren’t even that close, only meeting each other a few times back when the Borhap cast was briefly in New York.

“Did that asshole leave you here alone at a party full of people you don’t know?” Gwil asked as he pulled away. You chuckled at his frankness.

“You know how he is,” you mused, offering a smile and a shrug. “He’s gotta entertain everybody.”

“Now did I hear correctly that you’re moving out here?” Gwil questioned, casually leaning a shoulder against the wall next to you.

“Got here a few hours ago, in fact,” you explained. “I’ll be occupying the guest room until I find my own place.” Gwil chuckled at that.

“You quite literally just got here and he’s off chatting with people he sees all the time?” Gwil clarified, earning an exasperated nod from you. “I’m going to go ahead and apologize on behalf of that bastard.” You let out a genuine laugh at that, clearly pleasing Gwil if his smile was any indication. “So how was the trip out here?”

And that’s how you found yourself tucked into the hallway of Joe’s apartment, just exchanging stories with Gwil. You welcomed the change in subject, not wanting to harp on the whole Joe situation. You told him about the weird truck stop in Ohio, the delicious pizza you devoured in Chicago, the loud hotel neighbors you encountered in Colorado, and your brief stint in Las Vegas. Gwil offered his own road trip tales before the conversation shifted, and eventually he was regaling stories about various sets he’d worked on, actors he’d worked with, and general knowledge of the business. He even offered some much needed advice, melting away some of your initial anxieties about your career change. All feelings of loneliness and inklings of frustration at Joe were long gone, and you mentally thanked Joe for inviting at least one person you knew.

“Can I ask you something?” Gwil inquired after a little while, the two of you finding yourselves settled out in chairs on Joe’s balcony, enjoying the night air of LA.

“Fire away.”

“Did you and Joe ever date or anything?”

You burst out laughing at the question, shaking your head.

“No, no, definitely not,” you replied before taking a sip of your beer. You chanced a look at Gwil, finding him eyeing you warily.

“That’s surprising,” he admitted before pursing his lips and gently caressing his own beard, a gesture you noticed he did often.

“Why is that surprising?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Just the way he talks about you…” Gwil trailed off, his gaze focusing on the city lights before him. Your heart slammed against your chest at his words. You tried to keep your face neutral, not wanting to let Gwil know just how important what he was saying was to you.

“How...how does he talk about me?” you followed up, attempting to hide the quiver in your voice. Gwil immediately turned back to face you, his eyes glinting mischievously. His lips curved into a soft smile before he said your name gently.

“He...he’s in awe of you,” Gwil confessed. “I swear he talked about you constantly while we were shooting the film. ‘She’d be a great actress if she wanted to be. She’s funny, she’s charming, and she’s got the looks and talent.’ Everything reminded him of a funny story involving you. We practically knew you before we even met you.” Your heart was practically beating out of your chest as Gwil spoke. Sure, Joe had complimented you before. But something about the fact that he had practically bragged about you to people who didn’t even know you made your stomach flutter.

You realized Gwil had stopped talking and you met his gaze, finding his eyes narrowed at you.

“You should tell him,” he finally said after a few moments.

“Tell him what?” you asked, playing dumb. You knew exactly what he was referring to. The man had seen right through you. He smiled, this time seeing right through your act of denial.

“How you feel.”

You ran your hands over your face and let out a groan.

“I literally just moved in, Gwil,” you reasoned. “I don’t want to make him feel awkward about me staying here by telling him about the feelings he very clearly doesn’t reciprocate.” You gestured inside the apartment, where Joe was still talking it up with a few guys you recognized from Undrafted.

Gwil leaned forward, shuffling closer to you and placing a gentle hand on your knee.

“I know his actions tonight make it seem like he couldn’t care less. But I promise you, he’s so happy to have you here. He adores you. More than you even realize.”

You chewed on Gwil’s words, your mind swimming. You believed him; he had no reason to lie to you. But you just wished what Gwil told you lined up with how Joe had been behaving all night.

Eventually the two of you made your way back inside, to find the party had somewhat died down. Joe had shifted into clean up mode while the last small group was starting to make their exit. You instinctively began to straighten up, grabbing beer bottles and paper plates and disposing of them while Joe worked on packing up the leftover food.

You were tying up a full trash bag when Joe brushed past you, not even acknowledging your presence. Your heart sunk, knowing full well you couldn’t use the excuse that Joe was just distracted by others this time.

He was actually ignoring you.

As you opened a new trash bag, you began to wrack your brain for what you could have done already to piss him off. Gwil pulled you from your thoughts, pulling you in for a goodbye hug and a peck on the cheek. When he pulled away, his brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” It was amazing how quickly Gwil learned how to read you. Or maybe you were just that bad at masking your emotions.

Your lip trembled as you tried to prevent the tears from falling.

“He’s ignoring me now,” you revealed, earning a sympathetic look from Gwil.

“I’m sorry, love,” he offered quietly. “He’ll figure his shit out eventually.” Another hug, this one a bit longer as he held you against his chest. “I’ll text you next time I’m in town, we’ll all grab lunch.” You nodded with a soft smile before pulling away, turning your attention back to your cleaning.

Another minute passed, the last of the voices faded away, and the door clicked closed, leaving a silent apartment. You let out a sigh as you tossed the last of the plates you had found in the new trash bag. Pulling another beer out of the fridge, you ventured into the living room where you found Joe pushing the coffee table back to its original position. You awkwardly leaned against the arm of the loveseat as you waited for him to say something.

But he didn’t. After finishing rearranging, he passed by you once again, not even sparing you a glance, before heading back into the kitchen. You let out another sigh, following after him.

“Okay, can you please tell me what I did so I can fix it?” you pleaded, completely at a loss. Joe silently pulled a bottle of disinfectant and a rag out from under the sink and breezed past you another time, heading back into the living room. You scoffed at his actions, your sadness being replaced with anger at his immature way of handling himself.

You placed your beer down on the counter and trudged back into the living room, stopping in front of where Joe was wiping down the coffee table and crossing your arms.

“Joe? Are you going to talk to me or continue to ignore me like a fucking child?”

He froze, dropping the bottle and the rag on the table before finally, finally looking at you for the first time in hours.

“You’ve been here for what, five minutes? And you’re already trying to fuck my friends?”

Your jaw dropped.

“Excuse me?”

“You and Gwil seemed awfully cozy,” Joe replied before picking up the rag and continuing to wipe down the coffee table. You grabbed the rag from his hand, earning a sharp glare. “Hey--”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you roared, your blood boiling. “I hang out with the one fucking person I knew at my supposed ‘welcoming party’ besides you and suddenly I’m trying to fuck them?” You were shell-shocked at the accusation. Joe simply shrugged.

“The two of you were inseparable all night, what was I supposed to think?” he reasoned as he began to walk back into the kitchen. You scoffed again, tossing the rag onto the table in frustration at his nonchalant tone.

“How about the fact that you left me alone at a party full of strangers so I spent time with Gwil since you were busy with your other friends?” you fired back as you stomped into the kitchen. Joe began to wash his hands, still ignoring your piercing stare. “Like, holy shit, Joe. I know your world does not revolve around me, but the least you could do was acknowledge my existence. It’s my first night here, for fuck’s sake.”

That made him pause. He stared at the counter and you could practically hear how hard he was thinking. Suddenly, he met your gaze once again, a brazen look on his face.

“You could have come up to talk to me. I shouldn’t have to babysit you.”

His words were like a sword through your chest. Your jaw practically hit the floor this time.

“Fuck. You.” You turned on your heels and headed for the guest bedroom, angry hot tears escaping down your cheeks. You thanked your past self for barely unpacking anything before the party as you began to scoop up your toiletries and few pieces of clothing laying out on the bed and threw them back into your suitcase. 

You felt ashamed and so so stupid for thinking that this had been a good idea. And the worst feeling of all was the embarrassment at thinking that there was ever a chance of Joe reciprocating any feelings for you. You were nothing but a burden to him. Someone he felt like he would have to “babysit.” You didn’t fit in in his world and you were foolish to think you could.

“What are you doing?”

You jumped at the sound of Joe’s voice behind you; you hadn’t even heard him approach. You swiped at a stray tear and finished zipping up your bag before lugging it onto the floor and pulling up the handle.

“I’m going to check into a hotel,” you explained as you pushed your way past him, luggage dragging behind you. “I don’t feel welcome here.” You began to make your way towards the front door, already feeling overwhelmed by anxiety. You had no idea what your next move was going to be. Stay in LA and try to figure things out? Go back home to two parents who would chant “we told you so” until they were blue in the face?

Joe’s hand caught your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Please don’t do that,” he pleaded, his tone from earlier completely gone and replaced with a much softer and more desperate one. “I’m sorry. Please stay.” You whipped around to face him.

“Which part are you sorry for?” you asked sharply. “The part where you ignored me? Or where you accused me of trying to sleep with your friend? Or maybe it’s the part where you said you shouldn’t have to ‘babysit me’?”

“All of it,” Joe replied. “I’m sorry I lashed out at you. I’m just--” he trailed off as he turned away, almost bashfully. “I can’t help but feel protective of you.”

You furrowed your brows. It didn’t make sense. He felt protective of you but didn’t want to have to ‘babysit you’? He felt protective of you but he got mad at you for talking to Gwil? You stuttered as you tried to put the pieces together, coming up empty.

“I don’t…” your voice petered out. You were completely flabbergasted. “What do you want from me, Joe?”

Joe’s eyes met yours once again, and you could see the conflict written on his face. He was struggling with something. It was almost as if he--

“I want…” he began, before taking a deep breath. “I want you to stay here tonight.”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. For some reason, a part of you was hopeful he would say something else. The two of you stared at each other for a few more moments, giving him the chance to say more. But it never came. So with a soft nod, you reached for your suitcase again, pulling it behind you as you walked back into the guest room, closing the door behind you.

✧✧✧

You awoke to the smell of bacon wafting into your room. You sat up, throwing your legs over the side of the bed. With a deep breath, you pushed yourself up and headed toward the bathroom.

The sight of your face in the mirror made you cringe. You hadn’t taken off your makeup before crying yourself to sleep the night before, leaving black streaks of mascara across your cheeks. You washed your face before running a comb through your hair. You knew you looked awful, but you didn’t care. Joe had seen you worse, and honestly, his opinion of you was not high on your priority list after his hissy fit last night.

You sauntered into the kitchen with a bit of hesitation, unsure what you’d be walking into. You found Joe, furiously whisking some pancake batter.

“Hey.”

He practically jumped out of his own skin, clumsily dropping the bowl of batter to the counter, luckily with little to no mess.

“Hey,” he replied, running a hand over the back of his neck. “How did you sleep?”

“Alright,” you lied. You had agonized over every detail of the evening until practically three in the morning. But you didn’t want Joe to know that. If he knew, he didn’t let on, instead offering you a small smile.

“I made bacon and I’m about to make pancakes,” he stated, gesturing towards the stove behind him. You nodded simply and took a seat at his kitchen island.

Things were awkward. You didn’t even know where to begin. Part of you wanted to tell him to forget everything and start fresh. It would make things easier. But part of you wanted to stand strong, make sure you held him accountable for how he’d hurt you.

You mulled over everything, idly chewing on a piece of bacon as Joe worked at the stove, mumbling under his breath about the pancakes cooking inconsistently or something. After a few minutes, you were pulled from your thoughts by a plate of pancakes being placed in front of you. You glanced up to see Joe eyeing you, an uncertain look on his face.

“I’m a huge asshole,” he admitted. You opened your mouth to agree with him but he kept going. “You were right. I was avoiding you during the party. It was easier for me to convince myself that you were having a good time than to check up on you myself. I thought I…” he trailed off, losing momentum. He shook his head and began again. “I assured myself that I could handle being around you again. That enough time had passed and I could be your best friend again without a second thought. But then you walked through my front door and it all came rushing back and I panicked.”  You shook your head, trying to keep up with what Joe was trying to tell you.

“I don’t understand--”

“I’m in love with you.”

For the third time in less than twenty-four hours, your jaw dropped.

“I honestly think I’ve been in love with you since high school, but it took me well into my late twenties for me to actually realize it. And I got so caught up on this fantasy of you and I being this acting dream team, showing this fucking town who’s boss, together. And then you were here and you had spent the last week road-tripping across the country yet somehow you looked so fucking beautiful? And I just...couldn’t handle it. I invited practically everyone in my contacts to come over right away because I needed a buffer. I turned my focus to everyone else at the party because it was familiar and certain. With you there was so much uncertainty.”

He paused for a moment and collected his thoughts once again.

“And then I saw you with Gwil. I knew it wasn’t anything. But you were smiling and laughing with him and I just couldn’t help but wish you were spending your time with me. I know that doesn’t make sense. But I just got so caught up in my own head so when you finally confronted me, I panicked again. I threw everything back at you because I was afraid and embarrassed.”

You watched him as he plopped down on the stool next to you with a sigh.

“I wish I could do it all over again. There wouldn’t be a party. Just you and me like it used to be,” he continued. He turned to you, eyes sad with regret. “I am so so so sorry. You were right about everything. Except one thing. My world does revolve around you. The day you told me you were coming out here was the happiest day I’ve had in awhile. I’ve thought about nothing else since. But I completely understand if you want to leave. Hell, I’ll pay for your hotel and help you figure out what you want to do. But I also understand if you want me to just leave you alone.”

To say you were stunned would be an understatement. Your heart was pounding out of your chest at Joe’s confession. You didn’t even know what to say. There was so much that needed to be said, but you were frozen in place.

So you didn’t speak. You just moved.

You gripped the sides of Joe’s head and pulled him in for a bruising kiss. He let out a small noise in surprise, but quickly melted into the kiss, his own hands reaching for you and landing on your hips. You kissed him hard, pouring every emotion you felt into it. Every past pang of your heart when Joe had gone out of his way to do something for you. Every past flutter of your stomach when he had wrapped his arms around you. Every ounce of frustration and hurt that flooded your heart last night. He kissed you back just as eagerly, pulling you off the stool and closer to him, your chests pressing together.

You finally pulled away to gasp for breath, your forehead still pressed against Joe’s.

“I love you too, you asshole,” you breathed out, earning a chuckle from Joe. He pulled back to look at you, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. “You think I’d uproot my entire life and move across the country if I wasn’t completely in love with you?”

Joe’s face lit up before he dove in for another kiss.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” he asked, running his hands up and down your sides. You pursed your lips as you thought it over.

“I’ll only forgive you if you help me finish unpacking,” you reasoned, a smirk playing at your lips. Joe beamed, pulling you closer to him so you were practically in his lap.

“So you’re gonna stay?”

“Of course I’m staying. Why stay in a hotel when I can stay with my former best friend?” Joe’s brows furrowed.

“Former?”

“I guess I just figured ‘love of my life’ was a better title for you,” you revealed with a smile, running your fingers through his auburn locks. Joe pulled you in for another searing kiss, standing up and pressing you against the island, earning a squeal from you. After a moment, he pulled away, grabbing your hand and practically running down the hall towards the guest room, pancakes long forgotten.

✧✧✧

Permanent Taglist (crossed out names won’t let me tag): @queenlover05​, @mrhoemazzello​, @madamsledge​, @sadhwstudent​, @johndeaconshands​, @puffnstuff08

[whiskehorange]

Manhunt

Summary: Elliot just can’t stop until Peter Douglass is caught, but when does it become too much?

“Elliot, go home.” 

Olivia was the only other detective left in the station besides her partner. It was getting close to one in the morning and Captain had already gone home which was a clear sign that it was getting pretty late. Elliot was at his desk, flipping through the same photos, hoping for something new to come to light the more he looked. 

When was the last time Elliot had seen his own bed and not the ones in the crib at the precinct? Olivia kept track; 3 days.

“Liv, that guy is still out on the street someone doing God knows what, maybe even planning another kidnapping and you expect me to just go home and sleep while this guy’s not rotting behind bars?”

Elliot was never one to let things go down unfinished, especially when that meant staying and doing his work as a cop until the suspect was charged and sent to trial. No matter how many years they’ve been partners, Olivia knows how hard headed Elliot really is. There’s no getting to him, not even with a family at home.

Olivia grabbed her jacket, patting Elliot on the back, “Lets go get some food, that’s the least you can let me do for you.”

~~

“That guy was right in front of me, why didn’t I run? All I had to do was grab him. A few steps and I would have grabbed him.”

“Elliot it was chaos, there was nothing you could have done to get him. You saved Harper and that’s all that matters right now-”

“Please don’t try to help me out right now. Why would he risk getting ID'd? We know what he looks like for Christ’s sake, yet we can’t do a damn thing to find him because he’s left to fingerprints, no paper trail, and no DNA!”

The 9-1-1 call was assigned to the two detectives only because Captain Cragen knew that they would be on it until it was closed.

Harper, an 11 year old girl from downtown Manhattan was reported missing after missing the bus after school. The investigation had multiple witnesses to a man who stood outside of Harper’s daycare and apartment building as well as seen carrying around a disposable camera every time he had been sighted.

The case itself took a month or so to be considered closed; when Harper was actually found. The bastard was smart to not keep her in his own apartment building, or house. So far no leads gave the department access to where he lived let alone his whereabouts. 

“His name is Peter Douglass. A thirty four year old man who lived in the Manhattan area. About 5’7, average build, red rimmed glasses-”

“Elliot, for God’s sake will you just eat.”

Olivia had almost finished her coffee and eggs before Elliot had even touched his plate. All she had ordered for him was eggs and toast with strawberry jam, what he would normally get any other time they ate breakfast before stepping into the chaos they call the NYPD.  Beside Elliot was the manila folder that held just about anything and everything that was Peter Douglass. A slim folder, really. If you just glanced over it you’d think there was nothing in it until you’d go to pick it up and black and white photos of him and paperwork would fall out.

When Elliot says he’s milked everything he’s got from those photos, he means it. All down to what he was wearing and what direction he’s looking. Yet he still thinks there is something that he’s missing from all of it. Don was on the same page as Olivia regarding Elliot’s new obsession with Douglass, which is why he ordered him to work on it in his own time. There were going to be far more important cases openly being investigated that he needed the crew’s attention on than a “official” closed case.

“Elliot, I want to catch this guy just as much as you do, you can hold me to that. But with the DA officially closing it with Harper found, you know I can’t let the Department look into it anymore.”

“Captain-”

“That’s enough.” Don wasn’t going to take no for an answer, even though he knew how

invested Elliot was in this case, but it was either risk the jobs of the entire SVU unit, or close it. 

“Look, you still have all of your vacation days. Why you haven’t used them to spend time

with your family for the past seven years  is beyond me, but you can either use them and figure this out yourself, or leave it be. There’s nothing else to it. It’s your choice, detective.”

That’s the choice that left Elliot staying in a hotel, using his neglected vacation days. Of course he loved his family, but he wasn’t going to go home and be invested in this case. If he did that, it’d be like he wasn’t even home. Being locked in his study and being on the job was the same thing in his mind.

“Elliot?” Olivia was finished with her plate. It was getting close to two am and Elliot hadn’t had a drop to drink or an ounce of sleep. She could see it on his face. His blue eyes seemed empty but concentrated. His brows furrowed, surely stuck in that position if you didn’t know any better. Being this engulfed in a case never looked good on Elliot.

“I think I’m gonna go back to the motel. Goodnight Liv.”

And with that, Elliot left the diner.

~~

While Olivia, as well as the rest of the department was asleep in their own homes, in their own bed and under their own blankets, Elliot could only look up at the ceiling of the dainty little motel room he had rented for the week. His hands folded across his chest, shoes still on, his mind raced. 

A hotel. Small, cliche, perfect for tucking someone away. No, his name would have come up in the system of the places he’s checked. Hotels? Inns? Apartment. Most likely. Abandoned: possible. 

His legs now hung off the side of the bed as his hand reached for the manila folder. But he paused

(Is this really what I’ve become?)

but only for a split second before he grabbed it. The indents of his fingers riddles across the tab and top of the folder. Any Medical Examiner would be able to get at least fifty good pairs of his prints if they dusted it.

The muscles in his arms and hands routinely spayed out the photos across the bedspread. His eyes adjusting to the yellow light from the table lamp beside him. His brain immediately remembers every little note he’s made about each picture. His eyes scanning each and every picture just like he did the numerous times he’s done in the station. Elliot would look at these pictures for hours until his neck would cry out for a different position. Until his back aches for a soft bed. Until his fingers begged for a time out.

But this time, his eyes halted at one picture. 

Peter, standing at the corner where Harper gets off the bus. The time stamp puts him right at the bus stop only three minutes before Harper is let off, along with several other kids.  Although he isn’t looking at the bus station itself, but at the trashcan next to him. His hand placed slightly above his pocket as if he was putting it back in. The picture before showed Peter with a disposable camera, the one after showed him with no camera, hand out of pocket.

Before he could even finish laying out the plot in his head Elliot was out the door with his jacket and in his car. There would be no time to stop by and pick up Olivia, so he’d have to call her for now.

“Elliot? Is everything alright?” It was 5:26 and Olivia wasn’t planning on waking up for another 2 hours. Her voice was gravely and tired.

“I’ve got a lead, I’ll be at the intersection where Harper’s bus stop was right outside her house. If they haven’t dumped the trash yet one of his cameras might still be in there.”

Click.

“Elliot? Elliot!” He had already hung up.

Olivia bounced her head back onto her pillow, letting out a long sigh. Why couldn’t he just leave this alone.

(The trash gets collected in about thirty minutes)

“Elliot you better get there fast.”

Olivia went back to sleep.

Elliot could see the orange paper label of the camera beneath the cigarette butts, food wrappers and what was hopefully coffee. The breaking and beeper of the garbage truck about a block away wasn’t making the situation any better, but with a rolled up sleeve and closed eyes, he plunged his hand into the trash and grabbed the camera, yanking his hand out and letting out a deep breath. That was definitely not coffee.

Elliot had the camera developed, that's how he found the two pictures of Harper on them. The station's Technical Assistance Responder, Ruben, was the first to take a look at the camera roll before anyone else.

“Why would he throw it away? It’s got Harper on it, why not use that?”

“Well, by looking at the tape,” Ruben had opened the camera and layed the parts out on the table before him and Elliot, “the capture button, here, wasn’t wired right to the film, here. See this little wire? It’s supposed to go here so that the camera can snap the photo and transfer it to the film, which produces your picture. That’s why these few that he did take come out a bit on the under-developed side.”

Ruben led Elliot over to a seperate table, with two intact cameras.

“Take this camera. It’s wired correctly, so when you move the dial and click,” the camera wizzed and clicked, “you can hear the click and the dial move back to its original place, and now it’s ready to take another. Now, if you look at this camera, one that I’ve personally rewired like the perp’s, I move the dial… and click..” 

But the camera made two small clink sounds, like the dial was struggling to turn back.

“That’s the camera making a flash, but taking no picture.” “If I heard it, then the perp heard it too,” Elliot rubbed cheek, sorting it out in his mind.

“Exactly, and what do you do with something that doesn’t work?” “You throw it out.”

“The perp most likely didn’t even know the film was even able to make out anything. You’re lucky you found this before the color even faded completely. Maybe give it to Warner and see if she can dust for prints.”

(“Well, while the sides of the camera were covered it… well trash, I wasn’t able to get a good print from there, but the push button at the top did have a solid index print on it. Along with the receipt you have me, I can match that with what was found on the camera. The thumb on the back was a major plus. This was Peter Douglass’s camera.”)

“Already covered. Thank you.” Elliot took the film and headed down to the corner store where the camera was purchased. Thankfully for Warner, the second set of thumb prints on the opposite end of the receipt belonged to a Walter Brightman, the owner of Brightman’s Liquor. That made his job much easier.

“Idiot threw away the receipt with it. I have the film with Harper on it and where he got it. Brightman ID’d Peter and gave me his address, apparently he’s a regular and enjoys Grey Goose. I have this much Casey, just get me a warrant.”

Elliot was begging and bugging Casey for about fifteen minutes with evidence in hopes of getting a search warrant for his apartment. While there was a lot of evidence, she wasn’t sure just how well it would add up to the judge she’d get the warrant from.

“Stabler, even you know any judge will deny a warrant with this. The evidence is there-” “Then that's enough for a warrant of his apartment, car-”

“Elliot, that isn’t what I’m talking about. The case is closed, just about any judge I request from will deny it. There isn’t anything that they can legally do.”

There was silence on both ends. At this rate, Casey was prepared for more prying, but almost wanted to check to see if he was still there that's how quiet he was being.

“Listen, the judge that handled the Harper case might be a good bet to settle with. She seemed invested in the case as well as catching Douglass, but I’m not making any promises, Stabler. It’ll have to wait though, I’m not trying to hassle Donnelly out of bed this early in the morning for this. I’ll have your answer no later than nine pm, alright?”

“Fine.”

~~

Elliot knew that bugging Casey with confirmation calls wasn’t going to make it any better, but it was 9:06; Six minutes too long for Casey to not call him back. 

A voice followed a knock on his car window just about made him spill his coffee all over the dashboard. At least he was awake now.

“God damnit Casey,” Elliot huffed, rolling down his window and setting his coffee in the holder where it wouldn’t go flying out of his hand.

“Sorry I’m late, figured I’d deliver this personally,” the sly smile on her face gave her spiel away completely. Or the fact that she flopped the little blue pamphlet down onto his windowsill as she bent down, but either way, Elliot got what he had needed.

“So that’s why you’re late.”

“Listen, it took a lot of time to get this out of Donnelly. Thankfully for you, she owes me a bit of a favor. But anyways, in that warrant-”

“I know how a warrant works Casey.”

“Elliot, zip it. What I was going to say, in that warrant, it only covers the apartment. That was the best I could get out of her, so don’t try anything funny.” “Did you mention anything about-”

“-How this isn’t an official case assigned to you personally by Williams and put both of our asses on the line? Of course not. Now get out of here before I change my mind and tell her.”

He could only shake his head and crack a small smile. Donnelly really would have both of their jobs on the line if she knew this wasn’t a case for the entire department. He also knew Don would be on him too if they figured out that he gave his okay for Elliot to not only go through with his own personal investigation, but that he would have to face the city on his own time and explain. Then the entire department would be on the line,

(what have you gotten yourself into, Elliot?)

as well as anyone who helped him. Warner, Ruben, Casey… People that didn’t need to lose their job just because Elliot was too hot headed to just let Douglass get away with what he did. Too focused on getting sweet little Harper Andrews the justice she deserved, even if she wasn’t quite old enough to really understand just what that meant. Her father and older sister would know how it feels, but-

“I wish you the best of luck, Elliot. I really do.”

His seatbelt was left to his side as Elliot zipped out and onto the main road and downtown to Peters apartment. Hands gripped to the steering wheel like it was going to fly right out of the window, knuckles as white as a ghost. 

Peter Douglass had no idea what kind of storm was going to break down his front door.

~~

It was almost shameful how close Peter’s apartment was to the station. By foot it would take, give or take, ten minutes at max. By car, no more than four with regular traffic. Elliot, however, made it there in two. Any tickets he’d handle later.

If you were to take a look into Elliot’s mind, it would be filled to the brim with different scenarios. How he would kick down his door, how he’d tell the Andrews that they don’t have to worry about going outside anymore, how he’d look presenting to the press that Douglass is off of the streets. How he’d finally be able to sleep in his own bed once this was all over…

As he scaled past the front desk, he did a one-eighty as he flashed his badge as well as the warrant to the desk clerk, asking for Peter Douglass.

“Uhm, 319, on the 3rd floor but-”

But Elliot was off in a heartbeat. Up the staircase as fast as his legs could take him and down the corridor in a flash,

315… 316… 317… 318… turn the corner-

319.

Barricaded and protected by caution tape. Suits and ME’s swarming in and out like angry bees.

“Sir, this is a restricted area-”

“Yeah yeah, uhm, Stabler,” a flash of the badge once again, “with the SVU. What’s going on here, where’s Peter?”

“Oh, Elliot,” it was the head of the FBI, Jackson Marson. Someone who Elliot had known for a long time now, you could even say made it a bit further with his career that Smith himself, “I was sure Williams told you that he surrendered this case to Federal crimes. This has nothing to do with the SV Unit anymore.”

Eyebrows furrowed, mouth gaped, and eyes searching for answers, Elliot was completely halted.

“You know I can’t give you any details, Elliot, but this just isn’t your case anymore. He’s in Federal hands now.”

~~

The steering wheel was the best option to take out the frustration out on. Passersby were welcomed to give him looks, but Elliot was beyond outraged. Knuckled white and on the verge of bloody. Busted open, but not quite yet bleeding, give it a few seconds.

(You were too late, Elliot.)

(You shouldn’t have taken that nap.)

(Why in the hell didn’t you figure it out sooner?)

~~

Going back to the precinct wasn’t an option for Elliot, but he needed to return the files. After scooping up his failed attempts to provide justice for little Harper, he bitterly returned back to the station. It took him a few deep breaths and moments to suppress the rage within him to get out of the car

(There go your vacation days.)

and make it up to the doors and to his desk.

“Elliot? My office, now,” Don called, standing in his doorway with his hands in his pockets. His jacket was off, which was a good sign that Elliot wasn’t in trouble, hopefully. 

“Captain-”

“Elliot, I’m not here to berate you and yell, but it was only just now that I got the news of the Federal Government taking Douglass’s case. You know damn well that I would have been the first to call you and tell you. The Chief had just left my office and we both would have been in some deep trouble if I called to tell you to back off of a case that you weren’t supposed to be on in the first place,”

“Captain..” He wasn’t on the verge of tears, but he could have just sat, defeated.

 “You did good Elliot,” Don nodded, “You beat yourself up over this case, we both know that, but there really isn’t anything you could have done with the Feds on this case. I know you would have gotten him if they didn’t stand in your way. You’re a good man, detective.”

“Harper doesn’t get any closure. Her family doesn’t get any closure.”

“Douglass is off of the streets. They should be more than accepting that he’s not going to be able to have the chance to snatch a child anymore, Elliot.”

He rubbed his face with both hands. He could really use a coffee, and a shave, come to think about it.  As he started to the door, Don called out once more,

“Elliot. Call your wife. Talk to the kids. Go home and get some rest. You’ve got off for the next 2 days, don’t even think of coming in until I call you, got it?”

Elliot nodded. 

[mexcine]

La foire aux chimères [Carnival of Illusions] (1946) review: La foire aux chimères (literally, "The Fair of Chimeras," also known as Devil and the Angel), turned out to be something different than I expected (having only read a one-sentence description).  I'd imagined it was going to be a film noir about a middle-aged man whose love for a younger woman causes him to turn to crime and eventually lose his life--and all of this is true, except it's less of a film noir-crime thriller than it is a romantic melodrama.  It's a matter of tone and emphasis.  It’s still an excellent film, though.

        La foire aux chimères is set in Paris, apparently in the post-war period (although I suppose it could be taking place in the immediate pre-war era)--there are no references to World War II at all. Von Stroheim's character "Frank Davis" is clearly a foreigner, and early in the film his supposed accent is mocked by his fellow workers (even someone who doesn't speak French, like me, can tell he's not a native speaker: while he is apparently perfectly fluent, he just doesn't sound the same as the other characters).  Frank's nationality and background are not explained at all--even his scarred face is attributed only to "an explosion," but when and where that happened is not elaborated upon.  

     Frank Davis is the chief engraver at a large bank (which also creates money for foreign countries); one side of his face is badly scarred from an accident.  Frank is a stern task-master and perfectionist who says the banknotes he creates are forgery-proof.  On the night of his 50th birthday (von Stroheim was actually 61 when the film was made), the lonely Frank visits a carnival and wins a doll.  He is surprised to see an attractive young woman with a goat on a leash: she is Jeanne, the "Angel" in a knife-throwing act at the circus, and is blind (it’s a seeing-eye goat).  Frank and Jeanne chat and he promises to come see her act.  At home, Frank is greeted by his middle-aged housekeeper Marie-Louise, who has baked him a birthday cake. 

     Frank returns to the carnival the next night, but the weather is bad and the circus decides not to perform.  Frank buys up enough tickets to justify a performance, and sees Robert--dressed as the Devil--throw knives at Jeanne.  Afterwards, Frank visits Robert, his girlfriend Clara, and Jeanne in their trailer.  Money changes hands, and Frank leaves with Jeanne, who will become his wife.

    Six months pass.  Frank and Jeanne live in a large mansion, complete with butler (Marie-Louise has also come along, at Jeanne's request).  However, Frank has been borrowing money to finance their luxurious lifestyle. Lenoir, a disgruntled employee of Frank's bank, urges Frank to visit Furet's nightclub/casino: Furet intends to force the indebted Frank to cooperate in a counterfeiting scheme.  However, Frank stuns Furet by handing over a check for the full amount owed, and Furet suspects Frank has gone into the counterfeiting business on his own (and he has!).

     However, when the police visit Frank to ask his expert advice on counterfeit money recently discovered, Frank panics and tosses the printing plates into the river--Furet witnesses this, and blackmails Frank into resuming his criminal activities, but as part of a larger gang.  As more and more counterfeit banknotes circulate, Frank plays a double game, allegedly helping the police while creating the false bills at the same time.  Lenoir is arrested but Furet has him poisoned in prison so he can’t implicate the others in the gang. 

     Jeanne, unaware of the reason for Frank's frequent absences, fears he's having an affair and undergoes surgery to restore her sight. However, Marie-Louise warns her that Frank will be devastated if Jeanne shows pity when she sees her husband's scarred face.  Jeanne pretends to still be blind, but her relationship with Frank changes.  Jeanne and Marie-Louise visit the carnival, and discover Robert has given up his act because he can't find a replacement forJeanne.

     Learning Robert and his friend Doudou are giving up show business and intend to become sailors, Jeanne meets Robert in a café; he declares his love for her and asserts that she loves him in return, but she refuses to leave Frank.  He says he'll be on the midnight train, with or without her.

      Back home, Jeanne is confronted by Frank, who accuses her of deceiving him about her vision and of having an affair with Robert. She denies this, but when Frank continues to heap abuse upon her, Jeanne flees.  Frank follows, but loses her in the dark streets.  He goes instead to Furet's club, where he shoots the man in his office, then calls the police and starts a fire to destroy the counterfeit bills in the safe. When the police arrive, Frank does a deliberate back-flip off the balcony and falls to his death.

      As the film concludes, Robert and Jeanne are performing their "Devil and Angel" knife-throwing act, this time in a large theatre in front of an appreciative audience.

      La foire aux chimères is generally well-produced and -directed, but isn't especially stylish until the final 7-8 minutes, when it goes completely off the rails (most of it is shot in extreme dutch-tilt), in a good way.  Von Stroheim throws restraint to the winds, first angrily berating Jeanne, then chasing after her in remorse, and finally attacking Furet.  As he tosses the false bills around Furet's office, he shouts--perfectionist to the end-- "I hate this paper!"  

     The climax of the film is even more powerful because prior to this point Frank Davis has been extremely restrained: even his response to a cruel joke played by his co-workers (putting flies in his mashed potatoes) is cutting but calm.  Frank is proud of his skill in creating banknotes and is respected as an expert, but his personal life is barren.  His relationship with Jeanne is problematical: he essentially purchases her from Robert, marries her, and gives her a life of luxury (none of which she requests, but none of which she rejects, either).  A telling moment occurs when Frank learns Jeanne has undergone surgery to restore her sight: he goes into the hospital chapel to pray, and while we aren't privy to what he is praying for, one can only imagine it is for the operation to have been a failure (the best-case scenario would be for him to ask that Jeanne regain her eyesight but continue to love him), given his reaction when she says she's still blind. 

     The film generally presents a positive image of Jeanne, but upon closer examination her character is perhaps not as "angelic" as one might first think.  She is a passive character for most of the film--as noted above, Frank is the one who takes her away from the circus life, marries her, and installs her in a grand mansion.  She only takes an active role when she fears Frank is losing interest in her; she then secretly arranges to have an eye operation, believing her disability has turned him against her (this feels a bit odd: one would imagine that Jeanne would have sought out this operation earlier for her own sake, since she has no idea that regaining her sight would make her less attractive to her husband).  Even though she subsequently finds herself repulsed by Frank's appearance and admits (to herself) her love for Robert, Jeanne is willing to stay with Frank--out of gratitude, one assumes--but he rejects her.

      However, there are hints that Jeanne is not perfect.  After attending the circus as the only person in the audience, Frank visits the trailer where Robert, Clara and Jeanne live.  Robert suspects the "wealthy" patron is in love with Clara (a bareback rider) and is jealous (it's stated quite early that he and Jeanne do not have a romantic relationship), but Jeanne rather smugly says she knows it's Frank, keeping his promise  (made only the night before) to watch her perform.  Jeanne readily jettisons her role in Robert's act and her "home" to go with Frank, and accepts the new life he offers her without a second thought. After she regains her eyesight, Jeanne treats Frank in a significantly different manner.  It's possible this is solely the result of his facial scars (and the age difference), but it seems more likely that a contributing factor is Jeanne's new freedom and independence: she no longer needs Frank, and while she's not immediately disposed to leave him, her world has suddenly expanded. 

     Jeanne and Marie-Louise visit the carnival--Jeanne dislikes the tawdry world she left, now that she can actually see it--and discover Robert and Clara have broken up.  Jeanne spots an old poster of the "Devil and Angel" act and--seeing Robert for the first time--remarks about how handsome he is.  Later, Robert sends his friend Doudou to Jeanne with a  parting gift: the "wings" from her costume.  She meets Robert in a café and they admit their love for one another.  All that prevents Jeanne from running off with him right then is her gratitude to Frank--in a true film noir, Jeanne would probably steal money from Frank and flee, so at least she's not a completely evil femme fatale here.  Nonetheless, if Frank had never met Jeanne, or if at any point she'd balked at Frank's controlling ways, Frank would have not become a counterfeiter and murderer and a suicide. 

     While Frank and Jeanne get the most screen time and character development, La foire aux chimères gives its supporting characters some attention.  Furet is suave and likes to quote poetry (even as he's dying); Lenoir, although a minor, nasty character, is even given a girlfriend (who works for Furet and inadvertently delivers poisoned chocolates to Lenoir in prison).  Marie-Louise is introduced as a stereotypical stern housekeeper, but she goes to the trouble of baking Frank a birthday cake so perhaps she has a soft spot for him; when Frank brings Jeanne home, Marie-Louise thinks she's a whore, but winds up becoming Jeanne's friend and confidant.  Robert tries to replace Jeanne but the new candidates for "human target" are unsatisfactory; he argues with Clara and finally realises he loved Jeanne and made a mistake by allowing Frank to take her away. 

     The performances are all quite satisfactory.  Von Stroheim is a sympathetic character throughout, although hardly a downtrodden "poor soul"--he's lonely but not pitiful. When he first arrives at the carnival, Frank stops in a café for a glass of wine; two young women come in, and Frank buys them champagne.  They gaily accept, but hurriedly make their excuses to leave when they see the “ruined” side of his face. Frank smiles ruefully as they go: this has happened before.

      Frank perverts his engraver’s "art"--his pride and joy, even his reason for living--in an attempt to win Jeanne's love (which he appears to have, but not because he's given her a mansion and furs), then becomes infuriated when he thinks he's been betrayed.  Von Stroheim is excellent: while many have an image of him as just a shaven-headed villain, in fact this is chiefly a function of his Hollywood appearances--a number of his film roles (especially in France) were sympathetic, in whole or part (La Grand Illusion, to name just one, or Macao, l’enfer de jeu, one of my favourite von Stroheim movies).  

     Madeleine Sologne, of whom I knew little prior to this film (although she had a decent career), has a rather hard (while not unattractive) face, but towards the end of the film she somehow becomes more beautiful, perhaps because she's more animated and real when she "regains" her sight.  

      La foire aux chimères is a very fine film.  The plot is predictable but also tosses in a twist or two; however, the strengths of the picture are in the performances, the direction, the photography and general mise-en-scene, all of which are top-notch.  Well worth watching. 

[hollowgroverp]

“I’m Mayor Cresswell and I’d like to welcome you to the 31st annual Spring Fling! Today we have twenty-two very charitable suitors who have willingly offered up their day for a wonderful cause. The Displaced Children’s Fund, to support supernatural children displaced by the cruelties of our world is a cause close to so many of us. All proceeds from today’s event will go to the fund. Now settle in and will begin the bidding momentarily….”

Below the cut you will find the 22 baskets that were submitted for the event. Bidding will take place until WEDNESDAY, at which point the bidding will close and then I will pair up the bids with basket. We will do our best to ensure everyone gets matched up with someone. If you would like a certain pairing based on plot reasons let me know and we can make it happen. If you have multiple characters I will do my best to ensure at least one of your characters gets paired for a basket. 

How to bid: Comment on this post with your characters name and their three bids. If you bid you must place three bids to ensure we can make proper pairings. ex: Sophia Greyson bids on basket 1, 4, and 15. If you do not follow the bidding rules ie: you bid once or you send an ask, your bid will not be considered.

When will the picnics take place: Picnic dates, can take place any time after bidding concludes on Saturday, this includes during the event or poste event. These threads can carry on after the event ends but we encourage you to reach out to your pairing and plot.

                                    FINALLY, HAVE FUN WITH IT!

Basket 1 submits a grey ALL CAMP insulated cooler bag lined with a blue and white gingham picnic blanket. Inside, you’ll find: two motorcycle helmets, two pairs of mirrored aviator sunglasses, two cuban sandwiches, black bean soup with rice, a six pack of coronas (with lime wedges)

Basket 2  submits a woven edible bread basket stuffed to the brim with a parmesan pretzel base and a garlic braided handle. Inside you’ll find: Two different marinara sauces to eat the basket with, homemade classic spaghetti and meatballs, a greek salad, fried ice cream drizzled in chocolate sauce and topped with a cherry, two blown glass figurines of Lady and the Tramp, and a hand-painted map to where a picnic blanket and a telescope lay to watch the stars.

Basket 3  submits a white wicker basket lined with sky blue fabric. A single red rose lies on top. Inside: a variety of finger sandwiches, deviled eggs, chilled bottles of pink lemonade and water, sliced fruits, angel food cake, a small glass jar filled with melted milk chocolate, an array of cheeses, wheat crackers, sushi rolls, two slices of banana cream pie, utensils, and linen napkins. Also tucked into the bottom of the basket are two colorful golf balls.

Basket 4  submits a old brown wicker basket with broken handles and a squished in lid that oddly resembles being crushed by a truck driving over it. Inside you’ll find: A single can of half cooked SpaghettiOs, two snuggies a half-eaten sandwich, an unsolved rubik cube, an expired tamagotchi, a 'I owe you' for a free tattoo, and two deep fried twinkies for desert.

Basket 5  submits a black ash basket wrapped in a red satin bow. Inside you’ll find: spinach artichoke dip and oven-toasted baguette slices, deviled eggs, caprese salad, sautéed portabella mushrooms, two bread bowls filled with chicken fettucine alfredo, and a strawberry-blueberry shortcake. For the drinks, iced sweet tea and a bottle of red wine. At the bottom is a small, portable record player with a few classics, as well as a toy-sized oar and a neatly folded throw blanket.

Basket 6 submits a white wicker basket, complete with multicolored paint splatters and inside are two karaoke microphones, a Twister game box with a sticky note proclaiming Messy Twister, a bundle of water bottles filled with glow sticks and a small glow in the dark ball with a sticky note labeled glow in the dark bowling, and an IOU for burgers and fries.

Basket 7 submits a Country Picnic Basket with a single red rose sitting on top. Inside you’ll find: a small radio playing 90’s RomCom songs like “Kiss Me” by Six Pence None the Richer, two vanilla milkshakes, fries, caesar salad, two cheese burgers, two slices of homemade apple pie, and an envelope with a certificate to name two Stars orbiting around each other whatever you so chose and a IOU for an all expense paid weekend getaway to a place of your choice.

Basket 8 submits a wicker music box with an IOU for candlelit dinner for two, a flyer with the promise of dancing lessons for two, and a diamond bracelet inside.

Basket 9 submits basket that is a dark stained wicker with a gray checkered blanket hanging out of the top and on the inside it has a bottle of Chateau Lafite wine from 1787 and two tickets to a production of Macbeth at Hollow Grove University. There is also a handwritten note inviting whoever wins the basket to a candlelit dinner before Macbeth at L’Atelier de la Magie restaurant and wine bar for an evening of wine and fine dining.

Basket 10 submits a large black wicker basket lined with blue silk cloth embroidered with silver constellations, with a handmade movie ticket tied to the handle with silver ribbon. Inside you’ll find: popcorn, movie candy, sodas, champagne, whiskey, pork shoulder, brisket, grilled octopus, fries, salad, and New York cheesecake.

Basket 11 submits a large Oval Madras Chalkboard Basket.Inside you’ll find: A bottle of Strongbow Hard Gold Apple Cider, Porchetta Sandwiches with Marinated Onions and Salsa Verde, Black Pepper and Honey-Marinated Cantaloupe with Basil and Rocky Road Brownies. A pair of Ray-Ban Original Gold Aviator Sunglasses. And for later, a burgundy Mambe Extreme Weather 100% Waterproof outdoor blanket, a bouquet of Tropical white morning-glories and an 18-inch Leather Sheathed Brass Spyglass Telescope w/ Hardwood Case.

Basket 12  submits a wooden crate lined with nothing. Inside the sad excuse of a basket: a bottle of expensive champagne, two ornate champagne flutes, an assortment of exotic fruits, and a map of the town with a red ‘X’ over Leakey Falls.

Basket 13  submits a black picnic cooler with tacos, chips and dips. There’s also a jug filled with a mixed drink, two beer mugs, two slices of carrot cake, and a game of jacks. Resting on top of the cooler are two paper crowns and at the side of the cooler there’s a blue folded blanket. With the basket, there’s a small container included filled with paint balloons.

Basket 14 submits a black wicked basket lined in red velvet, with a bottle of Moet and two glasses, a bottle of whiskey. To snack on is a selection of imported breads, meat and cheeses, and a selection of grapes and strawberries. Under this are two Southwest Chicken and Swiss Paninis. Beneath is an envelope with a key to the roof area of Nina’s. 

Basket 15 submits a rectangular dark brown wicker basket lined with nautical stripes. Inside you’ll find: Two chicken salad sandwiches, four bags of sour cream & onion chips, a six-pack of Angry Orchard hard cider, two slices of chocolate cake, a box of Monopoly, and a deck of cards.

Basket 16 submits a light brown picnic basket with a red and white plaid blanket folded messily on top. Inside you’ll find: Disposable plates, a large pepperoni pizza with two bottles of coke. A plastic container with a mixture of berries, grapes and strawberries, a six pack of beer and a portable dvd player with the disc options of The Fast and Furious (boxset of all movies), Looper or Big Daddy.

Basket 17 submits a light brown wicker basket lined in white clothing. Inside you’ll find: two blt sandwiches, freshly baked cookies. There is also two bottles of Corono, a bottle of white wine for anyone else’s preference. There are also strswberries, and grapes, along with bags of Skittles, M&Ms and mini Twix bars.

Basket 18  submits a patten leather basket with tooled detailing. Inside you’ll find: a large marvel blanket with all the super heroes on it folded on the bottom, two polaroid cameras with six extra packages of film, a bottle of white wine, a pitcher of lemonade, two wine glasses, fruit salad, assorted cheeses, crackers, roast beef sandwich, a veggie sandwich, potato salad, chocolate dipped strawberries, a vanilla bean cake, two sets of silverware, and two plates.

Basket 19 submits a hand carved dark oak wood chest with a red lining. Inside you’ll find: a large dark blue quilt with the design of a waterfall at night under the stars on it placed on top, champagne, two crystal champagne glasses, a bouquet of red roses with sprigs of bath’s breath mixed in, fire crackers, sparklers, a fondue machine with the skewers, assorted cheeses, different types of fruits, bread, different types of chocolate, marshmallows, two prime ribs, a raspberry cheesecake, two pillows, another smaller dark green blanket, and a telescope with a note on it saying “Will you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Basket 20 submits a metal basket with barbeque cooking utensils, a black apron that says ‘Boss of the grill’, hamburger buns, condiments, and a note that says ‘food on the grill'. There’s also two bottles of ginger ale, half a dozen home-made cookies, and a teddy bear in a chef outfit in the basket.

Basket 21  submits a teal bucket, inside are many different ice cream toppings, along with two empty ice cream bowls. There is an inflatable pool in a box, and a note attached with the offer of all you can eat ice cream and a backyard movie of the bidder’s choice.

Basket 22 submits a traditional wicker basket with a blue and white checkered blanket rolled up on top of it next to a bundle of wildflowers.  Inside you will find a bottle of red wine, two glass wine glasses, chocolate dipped strawberries, two cheeseburgers, and two. You will also find all the necessities for smores inside. You will also find a tabloid loaded with cheesy romantic comedies, and 90′s love songs. 

[shruticmi-universe]

EUROPE BIODEGRADABLE FOODSERVICE DISPOSABLE MARKET ANALYSIS

Europe Biodegradable Foodservice Disposable Market, By Product Type (Plates, Trays & Containers, Clamshells, Cups & Bowls, Cutleries), By Raw material (Bioplastics (Polylactic Acid (PLA), Biodegradable Starch Blends), Pulp & Paper, Leaves & Wood, Others), By End user (Hospitality, Restaurant, Cafés and Bistro, Bars & Pubs, Clubs, Institutions, Foodservice providers), By Distribution channel (Wholesaler, Hypermarket/supermarket, Cash & Carry, Logistic Provider, Distributors, Online) - Size, Share, Outlook, and Opportunity Analysis, 2019 – 2027

Europe Biodegradable Foodservice Disposables Market 2017 – 2027

Biodegradable foodservice disposable is basically used for packaging of the food products. These products are biodegradable that degrade under a certain period of time after disposal in the environment. Food service disposable products serve greater ease of packaging the food with hygiene and cleanliness. Theses product developed in response to the rising awareness regarding the negative impact of conventional plastics in the environment. Biodegradable foodservice disposable products can be classified into plates, trays & containers, clamshells, cups & bowls, and cutleries.

The Europe biodegradable foodservice disposable market was estimated to account for US$ 1,142.8 million in terms of revenue in 2018 and is predicted to grow at a CAGR of 5.6% during the forecast period (2019 to 2027).

Drivers

Increasing initiatives by the manufacturer to reduce the waste is predominantly fueling the growth of the Europe biodegradable foodservice disposable market over the forecast period. For example, according to the Coherent Market Insights, Domino's Pizza, Inc., and Greene King, Greggs plc. and Unilever Food Solutions, along with 65 other hotels in the U.K., agreed to cut food and associated packaging waste up to 5% by 2015. Hence, rising such initiatives is expected to propel the market growth over the forecast period.

Shifting preferences of the consumer for eco-friendly products is projected to propel the growth of the Europe biodegradable food service disposable market. Due to rising awareness regarding the green products consumer purchasing decisions is being increasingly changing as they actively seek information on how products are produced and from what they are made. Hence, rising awareness regarding the eco-friendly product among consumers is expected to propel the market growth. 

In Europe, U.K. dominated the Europe biodegradable foodservice disposables market in 2018, reporting 46.1% market share in terms of revenue, followed by France and Spain, respectively.

Figure 1. Europe Biodegradable Foodservice Disposables Market, Revenue Share (%), By Country, 2018

Market Restraints

The factor such as rate of decomposition of biodegradable disposable food products as its degradability completely depends on the moisture content, temperature, and population of microorganisms in a specific environment. For example, the performance of biodegradable plastics gets decreased when exposed to high temperatures. This factor is expected to restrict the adoption of biodegradable foodservice disposables products to some extent. Thereby, hindering the growth of the Europe biodegradable foodservice disposable.

The problem associated with the manufacturing of the biodegradable plastic is expected to curb the market growth of the biodegradable foodservice disposable. Bio-based plastics are produced from plants such as soybeans and corn, which have a high risk of contamination as the crops which are typically sprayed with the pesticides on the farm and can be transferred to the finished products. This factor is expected to act as a restraint for Europe's biodegradable foodservice disposable.

Market Opportunities

Increasing the launch of innovative foodservice solution based eco-friendly products is projected to offer immense growth opportunities in the near future. For instance, in February 2019, Jem Packaging has launched fully recyclable, compostable, biodegradable packs. This packaging solution is biodegradable, home compostable, degradable in 8-14 weeks, and breathable but water-resistant; and a carton pack. Hence, the increasing launch of such an eco-friendly packaging solution is expected to foster the growth of Europe biodegradable foodservice disposable.

Rising need for reducing waste and reduce the reliance on petroleum product consumption is expected to propel the market growth. Biodegradable packaging solution helps in reducing the waste as bio-based plastic get to break down easily and can be absorbed by the soil or get converted into compost. Rising adoption of bio-based plastic is reducing the consumption of petroleum as bio-based plastic is completely based on natural products. Hence of adoption of bio-based plastic can significantly reduce petroleum consumption. The aforementioned advantage associated with the adoption of bio-based packaging solution is projected to hinder the market growth. 

Figure 2. Europe Biodegradable Foodservice Disposables Market - Opportunity Analysis

On the basis of end user, in 2018, restaurant accounted the largest market share of 34.3% in terms of revenue, followed by Foodservice providers and Cafes & Bistro.

Market Trends/Key Takeaways

Rising investment by a major manufacturer to launch the innovative food packaging solution is gaining traction in the market. For instance, in July 2019, approximately US$ 261.0 million investment fund has been announced to develop new eco-friendly packaging solutions by The Department for Business, Energy & Industrial Strategy. It would invest US$ 78.0 million in the project and businesses up to US$ 194.0 million to help bring into use alternatives made from food waste, plants, and wood chippings. Hence, rising investment for developing innovative solutions is projected to fuel the growth of Europe biodegradable foodservice disposable.

An increasing number of partnerships among the key players is projected to foster the growth of Europe biodegradable foodservice disposable. For instance, in November 2018, Ahlstrom-Munksjö has partnered with five companies to produce a new flexible paper-based packaging solution at the lab scale. The objective is to develop a renewable, biodegradable and recyclable flexible paper?based packaging material, by replacing current materials by more sustainable ones, in order to the reduced amount of plastic films.

Figure 3. Europe Biodegradable Foodservice Disposables Market, Revenue Share (%), By Product Type, in 2018

   Request the sample copy here:

https://www.coherentmarketinsights.com/insight/request-sample/3306

Request the pdf brochure here:

https://www.coherentmarketinsights.com/insight/request-pdf/3306

Competitive Section:

Major Players active in the market are Biopac (U.K.) Ltd, Huhtamaki Group, Bionatic GmbH & Co. KG, I.L.P.A. S.p.A. Group, The Jim Pattison Group, GreenGood USA, Gold Plast S.p.A, Vegware, Eco Guardian, and Bunzl plc

Few Recent Developments

Huhtamaki Group

In     2015, the company introduced egg packaging made from grass fibers. The     product was introduced under the brand name of GreeNest. The product is     also available in retail stores in Germany. 

January     2016, the company acquired FIOMO, A.S., a manufacturer of flexible     packaging foils and labels in the Czech Republic. This acquisition was     done to expand its footprints in Eastern Europe

 Buy now the market research report here:

https://www.coherentmarketinsights.com/insight/buy-now/3306

 About Us:

Coherent Market Insights is a global market intelligence and consulting organization focused on assisting our plethora of clients achieve transformational growth by helping them make critical business decisions.

What we provide:

Customized market research service

Industry analysis services

Business consulting services

Market intelligence services

Long term engagement model

Country specific analysis

 Explore cmi services here

Contact Us:

Mr. shah

Coherent Market Insights Pvt. Ltd.

Address:  Coherent Market Insights 1001 4th Ave, #3200 Seattle, WA 98154, U.S.

Phone: +1-206-701-6702

Email:  sales@coherentmarketinsights.com

 Source: https://www.coherentmarketinsights.com/market-insight/europe-biodegradable-foodservice-disposable-market-3306

[feelingwonderfultoday]

Cats & Criminals

Chapter: 2/7    [link to chapter one] Rating Chapter: T Rating fic: Explicit Loki x Reader

[Chapter three] You awoke to your alarm clock and slapped it off with a lot more force than necessary. Your body had been too exhausted to stay awake, but your mind had tortured you with nightmares of blood and murder and rape and screaming. You remembered waking up in the middle of the night with a shriek, bathing in cold sweat, sheets tangled around your feet as if to keep you from escaping, but your energy had not been fully restored yet and soon the darkness of the night had claimed your consciousness again. You hadn't rested as thoroughly as you had craved.

As you put on some clothes, gathered your stuff, and made your way downstairs, you repeated your newly found mantra: be polite, don't do anything stupid, and everything will be all right. Be polite, don't do anything stupid, and everything will be all right. Be polite, don't do anything stupid, and everything -

You let out a soft sigh of relief when you noticed he was asleep, and tiptoed past him to the kitchen. Should you make some for him as well? You didn't think he would get angry if you didn't, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He had used the word 'serve', after all. You tried to lower the temperature of your blood before it started boiling. You weren't a servant, you weren't a criminal, and you weren't a B&B either. You were a grown woman with a job, a house – however shitty both may be – and a life of her own. But you would play along; only for now, you told yourself – even though 'now' could mean anything between a couple of weeks and a decade, apparently.

You got out two plates and lay two slices of toast on yours, six on his, before throwing some butter and salt on it. There wasn't much left of anything in the house so you would need to go to the store soon – but that was fine. The more you could avoid him, the better. You pealed two bananas and lay an apple beside it on his plate as well, no idea how hungry he would still be after yesterday's dinner; again, better to be safe.

One last glance at the thrown-together breakfast before you picked up the plates and brought it to the table. He was awake – maybe he had been since you came downstairs, you didn't know – and his glance seemed almost kind, though it may have been a trick of the light and the sleep still crusted in your eyes. He took the plate and dug in much like yesterday: all elegance gone for a moment.

As you studied him while nibbling on your toast you came to the conclusion that the form of a cat truly fit him. He was slim, every movement he made seemed calculated (apart from when he was eating, apparently), and his eyes seemed to speak of intelligence and a fondness of mischief. Even his smirk had been a bit feline.

Then you realised you didn't know his name. Should you ask? Would he even give you his real name? Not that you cared, of course; but it would be easier to have something to call him.

“You never told me your name.” Soft; casual. You even felt casual, as if he wasn't some kind of criminal using your home as a hiding spot, as if he hadn't haunted your dreams mere hours ago. You didn't know why.

“You never asked.” He shot you a playful look before starting on his sixth piece of toast.

You rolled your eyes, but somehow... Somehow he felt less and less dangerous. Maybe it was the fact that he attacked his food like a starved lion, or maybe it was the glimmer in his eyes whenever he was amused – you had seen it when he had been a cat, too.

“I'm asking now?” Yet you managed to keep your voice light.

His grin only grew, and he sat back up from his empty plate to lean against the backrest, one arm draped over it and one ankle resting on his knee - completely at ease, as if he had been living here for much longer than a single night. He brought the apple to his lips, but spoke first.

“How about you give me yours first?”

Should you? Well, if he was to stay longer, he would find out who you were pretty soon anyway; and it wasn't safe to lie. So, you gave him your real name – but first name only. Yet something about his smirk told you he had already known. Had it been a test? You were pretty sure you had passed, then. You waited. He held your gaze. You didn't look away. Was he ever going to tell you or was this another test, to see how patient you were, or how stubborn?

Finally, he spoke. “Loki.”

You blinked. It wasn't a name you had ever heard before. Was it a fake one? Was it American? It didn't sound that way. It sounded more Scandinavian than anything else, really. You scanned him for a moment, and concluded that his name fit him.

“All right. Loki.” His eyes darkened a bit but you ignored it and stood. “I'm off to work; should be back by six, maybe seven if my boss gives me extra paperwork. Please don't break anything in the meantime.” You sighed, rubbing the last bit of crust from your eyes. “I would say make yourself at home but it's clear you've already done that.” You ignored his trademark smirk as well, put on your shoes, and grabbed your coat from the chair over which you had thrown it yesterday. “There's lemonade in the fridge and there's still some fruit left, but I'll go to the shops tomorrow to get some groceries.” You made a nondescript movement with your hand. “So yeah. If there's anything you fancy, write it on a piece of paper. I'll see you tonight.” And off you went, not even glancing back.

You hoped he was gone before you returned.

By the end of the day you were even more broken than the day before. You even passed by the usual distractions without noticing it, thoughts like white noise laying heavy inside your head. After you stepped inside your home, closed the door with your bum, and made your way to the living room, you nearly yelped. You had completely forgotten about the man you were now living with.

There was a new cut on his cheek, a droplet of blood trickling out and gliding to his chin, and one on his hand too. You tried not to cry out at how he had stained your couch, but didn't want to know where and how he had got them and so, without saying a word, you got out the plastic box again and sat down on the couch next to him.

“Look to the right, please.”

He followed your request and you gingerly grabbed his chin to hold him in place as you swiped the alcohol-drenched rag over the cut. It seemed as if... As if it had gotten smaller since you had gotten home. You pushed the thought away, ignored his usual staring, and let go of his face before taking his hand in yours and disinfecting the cut on his palm as well. Your eyes grew wide. After you had treated it the skin slowly merged together, until there was no trace left of the minor injury. You rubbed your thumb over the smooth, pale skin, and glanced up.

“How?”

For once he did not smirk, did not grin – he smiled. “Magic.”

Of course. Like turning into a cat, and switching your clothing with the flick of a wrist. You were almost jealous. No, scratch that – you were jealous. How easy life must be when you had all kinds of magic at your disposal. You glanced away and let go of his hand before it would become awkward, not acknowledging how his smile had made him seem even more handsome, and stood to put the kit back in its rightful place. When you returned to the living room you stopped in the doorway and leaned against the frame.

“So... You're not human, then?”

He chuckled. “It baffles me that you haven't heard about me at all; but no. I'm not from Midgard.”

You frowned. Midgard... Midgard.. Well, from the context you guessed it was the name for Earth wherever he came from. “What are you, then? If it's not too rude to ask, of course.”

He... He hesitated, and averted his eyes. Did he not know? Had you accidentally hit a soft spot? He stared at the hand you had treated and flexed his fingers; and when he glanced up something had hardened in his gaze.

“I come from a different world, called Jotunheim. It's cold, ugly, and barren, ice and rock as far as the eye can see; and it's people are exactly the same – Frost Giants, they're called.”

There was hate in his eyes, and it was your turn to hesitate for a moment. Should you try and lift the mood a bit? Who knew what this man was capable of when he was angry – especially if he was one of those alleged giants. England was cold and barren enough already, no need for some guy to come and bring eternal winter or something. You pushed a smile on your face.

“You don't exactly look like a cold and ugly snowman – though you are rather tall, I suppose.”

He laughed, loudly and genuinely, and the sound was like magic on its own; dripping down your spine like liquid velvet. Then, slowly, his skin turned blue, his eyes red, and he grew a few inches taller as the sofa gave a dangerous creak beneath him.

“How about now?”

You studied him, but... there was no fear stirring in your stomach. Why weren't you afraid? If anything, you were fascinated – but you merely shrugged. “A bit more 'giant', and I guess blue is a rather cold colour, but it's not without its own beauty.” Your cheeks flushed as you realised what you had just said, and you quickly lifted your hands. “I mean, you're not fit for a horror film or anything. I've seen a lot worse in those; I bet they wouldn't even hire you for a thriller.”

Slowly he turned back to fair, pale skin and gemstone eyes, something like disbelief or confusion swirling in them, but he quickly hid it behind a smirk and stood. “What a strange creature you are.” He stepped closer, and you pushed yourself off the door frame to stand upright. “Calling a monster handsome, not even a frightened gasp at its physique.”

Another few strides and your back hit the wall – you had been walking backwards without knowing it, gaze fixed on his as your abdomen stirred both in fear and something you didn't dare acknowledge. He placed his hands beside your head, his chest inches from yours, and your could feel his breathy laugh run down your face.

“I would have thought you fearless, but I can see now that that is not the case. Have you changed your mind? Would I fit in a horror scenario yet?”

But what you felt wasn't at all close to horror – no, you only felt horror at realising how you were turned on by this. By him. By the criminal in your house who wasn't even human. Another laugh rolling down your face and neck as he leaned over and placed his lips next to your ear.

“I heard your scream last night. Did you dream of me? The horrible things I could do to you? The ways I could make you suffer?”

You were pretty sure that dream wouldn't return. Oh no, not at all. It would be replaced with something far more terrifying. Far more satisfying-

“Step. Back.” You tried to keep your heart under control, and you felt pride at how your voice didn't break nor waver. “Step. Back.”

You were surprised he followed your command, but you didn't show it. You showed nothing but feigned rage and confidence.

“This is my home and you should be bloody grateful for my hospitality instead of trying to scare me with threats and physical intimidation. I've been polite, I've been kind, I haven't told anyone that you are staying here, so the least you could do is show me some respect!”

Oh no. Ohhh no. This is exactly the thing you shouldn't do when there was a tall alien inside your house threatening to torture you. Yep, you were done for. This was it. Goodbye cruel world. At least you wouldn't have to go to work tomorrow.

But he didn't kill you. He leaned against the wall opposite of you, only a few feet away, an amused smirk on his face and a chuckle escaping his lungs. “I must admit you have served me well so far – beyond expectation. I suppose a small taste of the reward is in place.”

Your stomach twisted, but luckily the feeling subdued when he held up his hand and a necklace appeared in his palm. A small, elegant emerald on a golden chain. If it was real... You cautiously took it from him and inspected it. Yes, it was real. You had no idea how much it was worth but judging by the fine craftsmanship alone you guessed it was at the very least a hundred pounds. You could sell it and save part of the money, using the rest for bills and groceries.

“Put it on.”

You glanced up, confused; but his gaze left no room for debate. No selling it, then. You unclasped it and moved your hands to the back of your neck, where it snapped in place again. It was so light you barely felt it, so delicate that your skin had difficulty registering it. You moved your gaze back to his, still slightly unsure what to say – which only worsened when you saw his glance. It was dark, yet... tender? Or kind? You didn't like how it made your abdomen stir pleasurably.

That evening the two of you ate dinner in silence again, as if your sexual fantasy of being pinned against a wall hadn't just happened and as if he hadn't given you one of the finest pieces of jewelry you had ever seen. Afterwards, still without a word, he joined you in the kitchen to dry off the dishes you had cleaned, and when the time came to go to bed you hesitated. He already lay draped over the couch, a book in hand, but anyone with the ability to see understood that it was far from comfortable.

You sighed. Were you really doing this? Yeah. Yeah, you were.

“I have a solution for the lack of beds.”

He elegantly pushed himself upright again, book forgotten in his lap. The gaze he fixed on you was dark, much like his smirk. “Are you suggesting to share yours?”

“Not in the way you're thinking about.” His gaze only intensified, darkened, thin lips curling at the edges, but you sighed and dragged a hand across your face to keep your body from responding to it. “You may sleep at the foot end of my bed – as a cat.” He pulled up an eyebrow, obviously surprised, and it was your turn to smirk. “You use less space like that; and I don't think my bed could handle a 'giant'.”

He stood, stalking closer. “Are you sure you don't want to find out?”

You just rolled your eyes. “Very sure.” Nope, not sure at all – you definitely wanted to find out. You were definitely inviting him into your bedroom with the hope for escalation.

But you just pushed the thoughts away and made your way up the stairs, paying no attention to the man following behind you. You showed him your room before grabbing your pyjamas and locking yourself in the bathroom, where you emptied your bladder, changed, brushed your teeth, and combed your hair. And combed some more. And some more. It was getting static now. You were stalling, mostly because some part of you was hoping to find him splayed out on your sheets, naked- don't think about that. He was a criminal. Mister Murder. Inhuman. A Frost Giant from Jotunheim – wherever the fuck that maybe. You took in a shaking breath and returned to your room.

He lay there, as himself – wearing only his pants. Your breath hitched. The soft dipping of his pale skin hinted at the muscles beneath and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. He lay his book to the side and shot you a grin, but you spoke before he could.

“Cat. Now.”

“Oh but I'm far from tired-”

“Now.”

Within the blink of an eye the black cat lay curled up at the foot end of the bed, his book on the nightstand, and you had the idea he was still grinning. You rolled your eyes and crawled underneath the sheets, mentally praying to the Gods that you wouldn't dream tonight. Link to this chapter on AO3 here. Want to support me and my writing? Commission prices can be found here Or support me by buying me a coffee

[atomairbus1-blog]

Pot Is Super Popular Among My Fellow Boomers. So Why Can’t I Get on Board?

City

One of Philadelphia’s most celebrated novelists tries to rekindle the spark.

Turns out, plenty of Baby Boomers smoke marijuana. Photo illustration by C.J. Burton.

I’ve been doing the cha-cha with a novel I’m working on where the age-55-and-over main characters regularly smoke marijuana to get high. Really high. So much so that when I’m writing about them, whiffs of that unmistakable aroma akin to a rope on fire with a punch of wood and thyme rise from the page. I get giddy as I write, suddenly craving sweet ginger tea and crunchy carbohydrates as I pull down memories to authenticate the scenes, memories that have long lain dormant in the dusty attic of my brain.

I’m 14 or 15 again, riding up Montgomery Drive on a brilliant summer Sunday in the backseat of my father’s car, slightly nauseous from the smell of his cigar. Having been the victor in the tussle with my sisters for a coveted window seat, I lean my head out of the car as we curve around Montgomery and approach Belmont Plateau. I say I’m hanging out of the window to get relief from the cigar, but I’m really trying to catch a contact high from all that hippie hemp smoke (my mother’s term) informing the air around the plateau, which is already charged with the jolting sounds of electric guitars mixing with mellow vibes of Make love not war.

Or I land on that memory from 1973 when I went to see Pam Grier and her fabulous ’fro in the film Coffy. My date and I had gotten off the D bus, now the 21, at 18th and Chestnut and walked first through Rittenhouse Square to get a couple of hits of what we hoped would be “the killer,” our term for really potent weed. It did not disappoint. We laughed our way to 16th and Chestnut and into the movie theater. We settled in with butter-saturated popcorn and cherry Cokes that were heaven to the weed-altered palate and proceeded to tilt our heads in confusion as Barbra Streisand and Robert Redford commanded scene after scene. At what point would Pam Grier rush in and pull the weapons hidden in her enviable woolly hair and kill the drug dealers who’d messed up her sister? We wouldn’t be seeing it that night, because, high and discombobulated, we’d sauntered, not into the Duke, where Coffy was showing, but instead into The Way We Were, playing at the Regency next door.

That’s actually a timely recollection as I two-step through my novel-in-progress and consider my love affair with weed: how it changed as I did, and how the words to the title song of the movie I watched in reefer-fueled error — would we, could we referencing the chance to do it all again — shimmy in my head to the beat. The lyrics tantalize, as if egging me on to join the legions in my age group who would, could and are smoking, eating, sipping, spraying, rubbing on weed in any of its myriad forms. So many boomers, in fact, are getting high that according to recently released results of the National Survey on Drug Use and Health, marijuana consumption is as common among my generation as it is among teens! I would be in familiar company, then, should I decide to reintroduce a ganja-stuffed bowl to my recreational pursuits. But would I, could I, pull on a pipe, or joint, or bong, and hold it until I cough, and recapture the high-heady, floaty times of my youth?

•

I began smoking marijuana in earnest in the early ’70s. I was fresh on the University of Pennsylvania campus from my cloistered West Philadelphia neighborhood — where I’d been a glasses-wearing, youth-church-ushering, teacher’s-pet-type good girl — and smoking a joint was a way for me to dip my toe in the counterculture. My then-boyfriend knew people, and on Friday nights he’d bring me cheesesteaks from Jim’s, Boone’s Farm apple wine that his older brother procured at the state store on Market Street above 40th, and a precious plastic baggie filled with a half-ounce of the most beautiful mix of brownish-green buds and twigs and seeds. I say precious because the half-ounce bag cost $20, and if there were several of us putting in, that could amount to more than five entire dollars fished from my very shallow stream of disposable funds.

Mythology had it that weed was legal on campus; it was not, of course, but I’d never heard of anyone getting arrested for smoking in Penn’s high-rise dorm. Still, out of an abundance of caution, we’d stuff a blanket in the slip of space under the door to keep the smoke from selling us out. We’d burn apple-scented incense, insisted upon by my non-weed-smoking friends, and then get down to the business of moistening sheets of Top paper to envelop the stogies we rolled. We’d toke and pass and toke and pass to the rhythm of Bloodstone crooning “Take to the sky on a natural high” (irony noted) until the munchies hit and the cheesesteaks were devoured and the table got cleared for marathon pinochle games interspersed with chatter about world affairs and campus gossip and how generally effed up everything was; or funny, hysterically so; or deep, too deep to dig, maybe, because much of the commentary was followed by Can you dig it?

I, for one, dug the weed. I much preferred the giggly high to the sloppy buzz of the cheap fruity wine, more a bring-down than a laugh-maker. And although the 1936 propaganda film Reefer Madness would have one believe that marijuana is highly addictive, I was never so ensnared that I suffered withdrawal when I was without it. Nor did I need to smoke increasing amounts to get that pleasurable feel of pings melting in my head. That sweet joint or hit from the bong or pull from the pipe was sufficient, my reward for getting through the week — or the day, depending on the day I’d had. Penn was hard, and I’m not talking academically, because the “heavy booking” — our term for studying — had been expected, accepted. The real energy-sapper was the constant stroking and kicking to keep from drowning in the high-tide oceans of whiteness and privilege. It was exhausting. Weed made it less so and was certainly preferable to the tranquilizers Student Health had prescribed for the tension headaches that befell me.

In a similar way, all of the inhaling a couple of years after college softened, if only a little, the jags of heartbreak and grief as I watched my mother die from esophageal cancer. My father would prepare lavish Sunday dinners in the weeks after her death, and his house would be overflowing with food and people, and at some point those of us so inclined would look at one another with subtle raises of eyebrows and casually move in the direction of the back of the house and into the yard, where a joint or two or three got quickly smoked. We’d make our way back inside, red-eyed and thumb-burned, laughing as we piled plates high with Dad’s signature bread pudding, swooning over how good it was. He must have known that I’d just been out in the yard getting high, likely in view of the neighbors, who’d talk. He never acknowledged it, never discouraged it. He was probably relieved that for the moment I seemed to hurt less, and if it was the result of the weed, so be it.

Then I stopped smoking abruptly, in my late 20s: Pregnant with twins, I put away my bong, my array of pipes, the Top papers, and expressions like Who’s got the killer? and What you got for the head? I needed to adult with clarity. Caffeine was my new go-to. Also new was my shifting attitude about getting high. This was now the early ’80s, when crack cocaine was beginning to thrash and burn its way through black communities, bombing out families. My sister lost a college friend to the epidemic — rumor had it that someone laced her marijuana with crack, addicting her. I witnessed a cherished friend descend into a heroin swamp — he didn’t die physically, but his potential died, his spirit. This was before all classes of white people became casualties of the opioid epidemic. Back then, there was no push for addiction to be recognized as a brain disorder. People afflicted with addiction were at best considered weaklings incapable of just saying no; at worst, dregs.

I never grew so callous as to fail to see the humanity of a person suffering from addiction, but my attitude toward highness was becoming, dare I say, conservative. So much so that I confess to being somewhat affected by that PSA that began airing regularly in 1987 that showed a hot skillet sizzling with butter, and then a voice-over warning This is drugs; a raw egg is then plopped into the skillet, and as the egg begins to quickly fry, the voice further intones, This is your brain on drugs. Any questions? A decade earlier, I might have said to the television, “Yes, I’ve got questions: Can you sprinkle a little salt and pepper on that, maybe a side of bacon with some cheese melted over the top, and slip it between two slices of pumpernickel?” The ad would have been worthy of such jokes to anyone who smoked as I did yet still moved through life with brain intact, synapses still firing. Also, the PSA didn’t distinguish the wide range of detrimental effects that lay between puffing on a marijuana-stuffed pipe and injecting heroin. Amazingly, I had begun to do the same thing. I lumped them all, weed, crack, heroin, LSD, speed; they were all tools the devil him/herself employed to establish a bona fide hell on earth. I was in good (horrible) company. The Controlled Substances Act signed into law by Richard Nixon had classified marijuana as a Schedule 1 drug, right up there with heroin, meaning that at the time, it was thought to be highly addictive and to have no medical value.

By the time my twins crossed over into adolescence, I had completely exchanged my laid-back attitude toward marijuana for mom pants and zero tolerance. I’d convinced myself that should my kids smoke weed, the results would be abysmal SAT scores, lackluster college admissions essays, the death of motivation. Forget inhaling; merely walking around with reefer might jeopardize their freedom. Especially my son’s, given that young black men were routinely being stopped and searched and, even when in possession of just tiny amounts of marijuana, finding themselves on the periphery of the modern-day slavery that is the criminal justice system. And I’m not being hyperbolic with the slavery reference; I watched Ava DuVernay’s documentary 13th.

•

Fast-forward to today: My kids didn’t go to jail, and my attitude toward marijuana has become nuanced once again, helped by all the related headlines that have managed to grab my attention from the horror show that is national politics: marijuana’s availability in the dispensaries that are popping up in the Philadelphia area like, well, weeds; its inchworm moves toward legalization here, where Mayor Kenney has called for green-lighting adult recreational use and having it sold in state stores; its medicinal use by people in my generation, who are increasingly lighting up or eating or rubbing on oils or swallowing pills containing weed derivatives to treat the chronic pain of rheumatoid arthritis or the nausea from cancer treatment, or to mitigate the symptoms of glaucoma or multiple sclerosis, or to reverse cognitive decline. Cognitive decline? I’d assumed that THC, the active ingredient in marijuana, caused that very condition. But an NIH-supported study found that cannabinoids may remove plaque-forming Alzheimer’s proteins from brain cells. And a headline in Scientific American blares out to me: “Marijuana May Boost, Rather Than Dull, the Elderly Brain.” Apparently, senior-citizen mice treated with THC improve on learning and memory tests — perhaps another reason the National Survey on Drug Use found that boomers are using as much pot as teens.

I’ve been fortunate so far in not needing medical marijuana for the host of maladies proponents claim it will help ease. But since I’m a writer, boosting the brain is something I’m definitely open to — even as I talk back to those “The Way We Were” lyrics stuck in my head and struggle with my reluctance to light up for the sole purpose of getting high.

Part of my resistance has to do with the inequity of it all — who benefits, who suffers. Take the hoopla over Elon Musk, billionaire CEO of Tesla and SpaceX, puffing on a joint on a live podcast. That’s some rich-white-male privilege on display, because even though recreational weed is legal in California, where he lit up, imagine the likes of rapper and criminal-justice-reform advocate Meek Mill, a black man, doing a similar thing. (By the way, Meek, please don’t try that here at home.) And then there’s former U.S. House Speaker John Boehner’s lightning-rod tweet months ago announcing that he was joining the board of Acreage Holdings, formerly (cutely) known as High Street Capital Partners, a marijuana processing and dispensing operation currently licensed to operate in 14 states and with plans to expand. He’d once famously said he was unalterably opposed to the legalization of marijuana. Now he claims that his thinking on marijuana has evolved. Sadly, his evolution can do nothing to evolve the criminal records of the countless young black men caught up in the system because they were stopped and frisked and found to be carrying maybe a single marijuana cigarette. I know a woman who had to shell out hundreds of dollars for legal representation for her college-student son, who was caught with paraphernalia that had trace amounts of weed. Trace amounts!

Another part of my resistance to getting high has to do with the learning curve. There are so many new-to-me ways to use marijuana now — edibles and oils and mists and capsules and tinctures and patches and creams. One can spray it like a breath freshener or consume it on a dissolvable strip. I shudder to think I might end up like New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd, who ingested a cannabis chocolate in a hotel room in Denver in 2014 and ended up curled on the bed for hours in a state that sounds more like a bad LSD trip. Do they still smoke plain old joints? Yes, according to a man I know who asked to remain anonymous — the only person who would even talk to me about still getting high once I disclosed that I was writing about my marijuana journey. He cautioned against buying it on the street the way he did years ago: “There’s nothing but crap out there,” he said, adding that his bud in New Jersey uses medical marijuana and the quality is much better than it used to be. He rushed to add that he himself, of course, would have no way of knowing other than what his “friend” has told him. Apparently his “friend’s” assessment would be correct. Generally, marijuana today is much more potent than it was when I was puffing away. Most of the weed that found its way to Penn’s Superblock in the ’70s had made a long, hot trek from places like Colombia, causing its potency to decline. Back then, the THC level might have been three percent. Today, it could be upward of 12. That sounds much stronger than the “killer” of years ago that sent me into the wrong movie.

A while back, I attended a dinner with people I knew from decades ago. Somewhere around dessert and coffee, a few of them disappeared from the table, but not before giving that slight raise of the eyebrow I’d used myself during my father’s back-in-the-day dinners. They met up with the rest of us later as we milled around outside; they were giddy with the type of laughter that scrunches the eyes practically shut. But it wasn’t just the laughter fusing their eyes. I joked that they smelled like 1975, even as I felt a swath of regret that I hadn’t joined them. Why didn’t I? I’m still asking myself.

I could validly claim any or all of the reasons my contemporaries have expressed for why they choose not to smoke weed: They stopped because of the children and never looked back; they live with or very close to someone recovering from addiction; they’re afraid of an adverse physical reaction; it feels immature at this age; wine is legal, and they’re not trying to break the law at this point in life. When I asked, “What if it was legal?” my sister Paula said, “If it’s legal, I mean, well, yeah, but only if it’s legal, not just decriminalized — fully legal at both the state and federal levels.”

And yet, the illegality is what enticed me all those years ago when I stuck my head out of the car window to gulp in the weed-tinged breeze moving through the be-in on Belmont Plateau. I got high on the anticipatory thrill of it before I ever smoked a joint. I was on the precipice of young adulthood. Marijuana wasn’t just about getting my head right, as we used to say about a good high. Marijuana also represented the revolution that was all around me, growing me up. I was doing this absolutely taboo thing — good-girl me — and that enhanced the pings firing and melting in my brain, getting me higher still. Smoking again would feel like desperately chasing a thrill that’s long gone because it should be gone, because it no longer serves a purpose.

So, for now, since the lyrics from “The Way We Were” are stuck in my head anyway, I’ll hum the part about memories lighting the corners of my mind, grateful to know that should those memories grow too dim from age-related cognitive decline, there will be the medically sanctioned option to swaddle crumpled buds of weed inside sheets of moistened Top paper and toke away.

Published as “Joint of No Return” in the February 2019 issue of Philadelphia magazine.

Source: https://www.phillymag.com/news/2019/01/26/baby-boomers-smoke-marijuana/

[jakehglover]

How Did Plastic Straws Take Over the World?

By Dr. Mercola

In the U.S., nearly 500 million plastic straws are used every day,1 many of which end up polluting the environment. While the number may seem extreme, you likely have not taken notice of the straws you use. Nearly every time you order a drink at a restaurant, there's a good chance you'll receive a straw to go along with it.

Unfortunately, while this may seem innocuous, Australian scientists estimate as many as 8.3 billion plastic straws are polluting beaches around the world.2 Eight million tons of plastic flow into the ocean every year, and straws have been a focus for change since, for most able-bodied people, the straw is often something you can easily do without.

In other words, eliminating the plastic straw from your daily use likely does not require a radical change in your behavior. However, while the straw is not a necessary utensil, it is found in nearly every home and restaurant across the world.

Who Started Using Straws?

Drinking straws are one of the oldest utensils, but only became popular during the Industrial Revolution in the late 1800s.3 Ancient Sumerians were one of the first societies known to brew beer, and they used long, thin tubes made from metal to reach the liquid below the line of fermentation.4

In the 1880s, Marvin Stone was drinking a mint julep with a stalk of ryegrass, the standard straw in his day.5 Reportedly, Stone hated the residue left in his drink as the straw broke down, so he made his own device, wrapping strips of paper around a pencil and gluing them into place.6 He patented the design in 1888 and by 1890 was mass-producing them.

The next step in the evolution of the straw occurred in 1930 when inventor Joseph Friedman added indentations to the paper straw so they could easily bend without breaking.7 Hospitals were the first to embrace this new iteration as it allowed their patients to drink while lying in bed. Until the 1960s, paper straws ruled the market. According to David Rhodes, manager of Aardvark Paper Drinking Straws,8 “The paper straw had a slow death throughout the 1960s and into the 1970s. By the mid-‘70s [they] were all gone.”

Plastic straws were one of the many single-use products being manufactured and quickly became cheaper and more durable than paper.9 Additionally, restaurants found they could be wedged into a fast food restaurant’s to-go lids without ripping or tearing.

Rhodes commented on the growing trend to use single-use plastic straws, although plastic straws are theoretically reusable, saying,10 “It was better, it was cheaper and they didn't fall apart. It truly was a better product at a cheaper price and, in that era, no one looked at the future impact it would have on our environment.”

Large manufacturers were meeting the demand of a society looking for single-use items that could be taken on-the-go and disposed of away from home. Plastics Europe,11 one of the largest plastic producers in the world, reports 1.5 million tons of plastic were produced in 1950. However, by 2015 this number had multiplied to 320 million tons of plastic. In what National Geographic is calling a “plastic pollution hangover,”12 corporations, cities and even governments are analyzing and proposing a ban on plastic straws.

Cities and Companies Banning Plastic Straws

If you're looking for a plastic straw in Seattle, you will be out of luck.13 A citywide ban on straws and plastic utensils in bars and restaurants has gone into effect in an effort to reduce plastic pollution.

Seattle is the first major U.S. city to undertake this eco-conscious decision, to reduce plastic pollution known to be damaging to marine wildlife. Seattle public utilities general manager Mami Hara stated:14 “Plastic pollution is surpassing crisis levels in the world's oceans, and I'm proud Seattle is leading the way and setting an example for the nation by enacting a plastic straw ban.”

Seattle isn’t the only city to consider a ban on plastic straws and utensils. Proposals are being considered in New York, Hawaii and several cities in California including Alameda, Carmel, San Francisco, Richmond and Berkeley.15 Other cities in Washington, as well as in New Jersey and Florida, are also considering taking action to reduce or ban the use of plastic straws.

United Kingdom’s Prime Minister Theresa May announced16 a plan to ban the sale of plastic straws, drink stirrers and plastic-stemmed cotton buds. McDonald's Corporation recently announced a ban of plastic straws in its U.K. and Irish restaurants, while Bon Appétit management announced it will phase out plastic straws in 1,000 U.S. food locations.17

Following the pleas of a 16-year-old girl scout, Alaska Airlines18 has decided to no longer use plastic straws on any of its flights. Shelby O'Neil, founder of the conservancy group Jr Ocean Guardian Ambassadors, wrote to Alaska Airlines outlining the negative environmental impact the straws have and the 22 million the carrier used last year.

Following in Alaska Airlines’ footsteps, American Airlines19 announced it will replace plastic straws and drink stirrers with biodegradable alternatives, and move toward more eco-friendly flatware.

American Airlines, the world's largest airline, stated the move will eliminate more than 71,000 pounds of plastic a year. Hilton Hotels announced it will remove straws from 650 properties it manages by the end of 2018, estimating this will eliminate more than 35 million straws each year from waste management.20 The Hyatt Corporation is also jumping on board, stating it will provide straws by request only, using environmentally friendly alternatives when they're available.

Starbucks Steps Up to the Plate

Starbucks’ announcement to eliminate plastic straws and stirrers from their establishments by 2020 was made just days after Seattle, its corporate home base, enacted its ban on plastic utensils and straws at food establishments. The announcement may be the boost environmentalists need to convince other food establishments to eliminate the use of plastic straws and find environmentally safer alternatives. In the short video above, you'll see the plastic lid Starbucks has designed for their cold drinks.

The announcement earned Starbucks media praise as an environmental milestone, since it is the first major restaurant chain to make a move in response to growing concerns about plastic pollution.21 The corporation has more than 28,000 stores and generates $22.4 billion in sales — half of which they say came from cold drinks typically served with a straw.22 This shift also demonstrates cultural differences between Starbucks and close competitors such as McDonald's and Dunkin’ Donuts.

Dunkin’ Donuts announced it would eliminate Styrofoam cups by 202023 but made no mention of plastic utensils or straws, and McDonald’s announced it has begun testing plastic alternatives in 14,000 stores in the U.S.24

The plastic straw ban by Starbucks is being heralded as a smart move to help them restore their reputation and remind consumers what separates them from their competitors. Environmentalists are hoping this move will be enough to prod other restaurants into taking a similar stance to protect the environment.

Plastic Straws Are a Menace to Wildlife

The no-straw movement gained significant traction three years ago after a video showing a sea turtle with a plastic straw wedged in its nose went viral. Since then, a number of local governments have passed legislation restricting the use and distribution of plastic straws,25 but Seattle was the first to ban it completely.

While straws may amount to a fraction of plastic pollution in the ocean, their size makes them insidious as they are consumed by fish. Jenna Jambeck,26 engineering professor at the University of Georgia, calls on individuals to make a choice not to use a plastic straw and keep them off the beaches and out of the ocean. Jambeck was the lead author in the groundbreaking study that measured how much plastic debris was entering the ocean each year (8 million tons each year).27

Plastic straws are only the latest in an expanding list of products environmentalists are fighting to ban, tax or boycott in an effort to reduce plastic pollution. In one study,28 researchers estimate the weight of plastic in the ocean will outweigh fish by 2050.

More than 70 percent of seabirds and 30 percent of turtles have been found with plastic in their stomachs.29 When plastic is ingested, marine life has a 50 percent mortality rate. Plastic straws are among the top 10 items found during beach cleanups. Because of their size, they're often mistaken for food by animals and because of their shape, can cause suffocation and death.30

Wildlife cameraman Doug Allan is also fighting to reduce plastic pollution and plastic straws along the coastlines.31 The award-winning photographer has worked in some of the world's most extreme environments, capturing footage of polar bears and killer whales in Arctic temperatures. He recalls filming on the remote northeastern coast of Scotland and finding plastic straws on pretty much every part of the beach. He recounts:32

“It’s a sad fact of reality that they are pretty much on every shore I go to. They are dotted along the high-tide marks of beaches facing the prevailing winds, ruining the view. High-tide marks are great gatherers of everything. Anything which ends up at sea inevitably is washed up — and ends up at the high-tide mark. It’s like a collecting point where all the rubbish gets concentrated. You walk along the foreshores at the top of the tide line and you will see plastic straws lying there."

But, wildlife are not the only ones to be injured by plastic straws. An estimated 1,400 people33 visit the emergency room every year as a result of injuries caused by straws. The majority involve young children with lacerations to their mouth or abrasions to their cornea. Some young children also insert them in their ears and nose. In other instances, adults are injured when drinking from a glass and, forgetting the straw is in the drink, poke their eye or nose.

Lids Are Recycled but Straws Are Not

Most plastic straws are too lightweight to make it through a machine recycling sorter.34 While they can theoretically be recycled, they drop through screens and mix with other materials too small to separate, and get disposed of as garbage. However, the lids are large enough to be sorted and recycled.

Although most are happy with the removal of plastic straws from food service and an anticipated reduction in ocean pollution, the American Chemistry Council (ACC), a trade organization representing plastic manufacturers, is not. Steve Russell, vice president of plastics in the ACC,35 believes the focus should not be on a specific product but rather on the global issue of waste management as a better way to prevent more plastic refuse from entering the oceans.

However, as you may imagine, large-scale waste management policy changes are years in the making, while changing a single behavior of drinking from a cup instead of through a straw starts reducing pollution along beaches and damage to wildlife far more rapidly.

We also cannot continue to depend on waste management; we simply must reduce the total production and use of plastic products. There’s only so much room on planet Earth to bury plastic garbage, and we’re running out of space. Greenpeace’s Kate Melges told Seattle news station KIRO 7:36 “It's taking a stand on plastic pollution... and really taking a stand on what needs to happen, a ban on all single-use plastic products.”

Choose Reusable Over Single-Use Products

It is crucial to rethink society’s throwaway culture and become more sustainably creative. Ideally, seek to purchase products not made from, or packaged in, plastic. Another important point is to choose reusable over single-use, which is possible in many instances. For instance, opting for the following will help you to inch closer to a minimal-waste lifestyle while reducing your share of plastics pollution:

Avoid plastic bags (including for snacks and food storage)

Avoid disposable straws (reusable straws made from stainless steel, bamboo and even glass are widely available)

Choose a nonplastic toothbrush made from bamboo or flax

Avoid disposable plastic bottles; bring your own reusable bottle instead. Also bring your own mug for coffee

Request no plastic wrap on your newspaper and dry cleaning

Store foods in glass containers or Mason jars rather than plastic containers and plastic freezer bags

Avoid processed foods (which are stored in plastic bags). Buy fresh produce instead, and forgo the plastic bags

Opt for nondisposable razors, washable feminine hygiene products for women, cloth diapers and infant toys made of wood rather than plastic

Wash synthetic clothes less frequently and when you do, use a gentle cycle to reduce the number of fibers released; consider using products that catch laundry fibers in your washing machine

When washing out paint brushes, capture rinse water in a jar and dispose of it at your local landfill in designated spots for paint (don’t let it go down the drain).

You can also make your own milk paint in lieu of plastic-based latex and acrylics — to do so “add lemon juice to skim milk and filter out the curd, add natural pigment to what is left”

from HealthyLife via Jake Glover on Inoreader http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2018/07/25/plastic-straws-environmental-impact.aspx

[dfsindia]

Milk Pouch Packing Machine Manufacturer – Gather Various Details

The milk packaging materials generally include paper and similar products, glass, tin plate. Aluminium foil, timber, plastics and laminates. The paper and also paper based products from a good packaging material for milk and milk products. They may be grease proof paper, kraft paper, vegetable parchment paper, glassine paper, wax coated paper, plastic coated paper, solid fibre boards, paper boards, liner boards, box boards, etc.

These papers are mainly used in the form of bags, boxes, cartons, wrapper, cups and more. There are great benefits of using paper that it is weightless, ability to print on the surface, low cost and easy disposability. The benefits mainly include low wet and tear strength. There are numerous milk pouch packing machine manufacturer offering better solutions in this arena.

Glass

The glass may be indeed opaque or transparent. Glass used in the form of bottles, tumblers, jugs, etc. The benefits generally cited for glass as a packaging material include its strength, rigidity, ability to have a complete barrier for water and gas and inertness to chemical substances. The main disadvantage can be talked in terms of its fragility and its heavier weight.

Tin plate

It may be then made up of a thin sheet of mild steel coated on both sides with a complete layer of pure tin. It is fully desirable to have an internally Iacquered that offers better resistance to corrosion. The benefit generally cited for tin containers as a packaging materials are their great strength and excellent barrier properties. The main disadvantages are their higher costs, heavier weight, difficulty in closing the lid of the container and disposal. These containers are mainly used in the form of can.  

Aluminium foil

The common thickness of foil mainly used is 0.012 to 0.015 mm. In order to increase corrosion resistance, it may be then Iacquered or a thin film of plastic can be fully applied for packaging certain dairy products. The main benefits of these important containers are good barrier properties, grease proof, non-absorption, shrink proof, tasteless, hygienic, bright in appearance, etc. The main demerits are its lower tear strength, susceptibility to strong acids and alkalis. It is mainly used in the great form of wrapper, carton and box.

Timber

The needed qualities for the timer to perform as a complete packaging material are it should be complete free from odour, have an attractive appearance, and also needed mechanical strength. It may be fully treated with casein formalin, or also sprayed with paraffin wax or plastics or for making it more water resistant and also to avoid the passage of timber taint to butter.

[elizabethenroute-blog]

There’s no place like home

One of my favourite films growing up was Tim Burton’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I love the original too, but I was there for this one coming out, so it has a lot more poignance for me. Something that really stuck with me was a moment just before the ending (spoiler alert - although this film was made in 2005. And the original film came out in 1975. PLUS the book came out in 1964. If this is a spoiler then sort out your priorities) when, having narrowed down the golden ticket winners to just little Charlie Bucket, Mr. Wonka decides to leave the factory to him, on the condition that he leaves his family in their house (which is beyond repair) and joins him.

But, having gone on this unbelievable adventure, having seen more chocolate than he could ever imagine and things more spectacular than his wildest dreams, does Charlie accept? No. He doesn’t. He tells Mr. Wonka in the most direct way possible, that unless his family can come, he doesn’t want anything to do with the factory. 

If you’ve been reading my previous blogs, you’ll know how much I like to use metaphors. The fact is that before I flew out to live in South Tyrol, even before I au paired this summer, I was convinced that I would move abroad as soon as I graduated. The Brexit result really encouraged this idea of mine, and I decided towards the end of the last academic year that I was going to find myself (once graduated) a full-time, adult job in Vienna. And that would be where I would settle down, where I would live my life. Britain, in my mind, was like a teaspoon of sugar just slightly dipped in a cup of tea and tilted downwards - slowly, but inevitably, sliding into some deep, hellish cauldron where it would soon dissolve completely. 

Living abroad has caused my mind, much to my own surprise, to do a complete U-turn on this decision. Okay, yes, I’d still like to live in Vienna at some point, but one day I will have to settle down somewhere properly. I’ll have to pick my place to roost, so to speak, and I am more sure than ever in this moment that that place will be in Britain. 

So what caused this dramatic change of opinion? Well much like little Charlie Bucket, I have been shown the chocolate factory of my dreams. I’ve been to places so beautiful that no photographer could ever capture their true nature, I’ve had countless moments where I’ve caught myself whispering “wow”, and I have been left speechless by so many experiences in the three short months that I’ve lived in Italy this year. But something’s never quite right.

When you’ve only ever lived in one place, it’s very easy to criticise. You only know the things that you, yourself have experienced, so if something isn’t up to the standards we expect, we pass judgement. I’m extremely guilty of this myself. We criticise the government when things don’t go our way, we criticise the health service, the public transport, the education system, and even the way we dispose of our waste. 

Having had to live abroad and live under someone else’s set of rules, I can’t wait to live back in Blighty next year. Don’t worry, I am truly loving my year abroad, but there are just things we do in Britain that are so much better. Part of this might be my personal opinion, maybe I’m just homesick for the systems I know and understand, but I do think the way our country works can be so under-appreciated. For example, something as small as having the bin men collect your rubbish from right outside your front door. True, I don’t appreciate being woken up at 7am on a Wednesday morning, but it means I don’t have to drive miles to drop off my rubbish myself. 

Sticking with the subject of rubbish (because isn’t it just a lovely topic?), the way you have to separate your recycling here stresses me out so much. It has to be split into card, paper and then plastic, and then you have to separate your plastics from your plastics, because apparently some plastics can’t go with other plastics. Then, again, no one collects it for you (even though that’s such a good economy booster, creating jobs and all that... never mind) - you have to drop it off yourself. I’m just saying, for a region that wants to be eco friendly, one rubbish truck would emit a lot less Co2 than literally everyone having to drive to drop their crap off individually. 

Even the way we look after our teeth is better - which is pretty incredible considering we stereotypically are a nation of crooked pearly whites. One teacher was telling me that he’s going to Hungary this half term to go to the dentist, because it’s cheaper. HUNGARY! JUST FOR THE DENTIST. Okay, it annoys me that I have to pay £20 just to have someone have a little scratch around in my mouth with a metal stick, and then tell me I’m fine, but at least I don’t have to book myself a trip abroad.

More importantly, just like Charlie Bucket, I’ve come to understand the importance of my family and friends. Even out here, I find myself reaching out to my group chats for just the smallest pieces of advice. In fact, I’ve had a lot on my plate recently. I won’t go into too many details, but I really wasn’t feeling like my normal self and I honestly didn’t know how I was supposed to be coping with the situation I’d been thrown into. My friends, and the best advice I can ever receive, were just a few taps away. But I miss them being a few streets away. My Mum was just a Facetime away, but I miss having chats face to face. 

When I lived in Birmingham, I only really went home once every six weeks, but just the knowledge that my family were accessible within an hour and twenty minutes on the train was so comforting. I truly take my hat off to people who can move to the other side of the world from their loved ones and somehow manage to keep going, because I for one am very ready for my Christmas flight home. 

I’ve spoken to a few friends who are either currently year abroading or have recently returned, and the majority have gone through the same reality check that I have. Yes, we love being able to use our languages, and yes, we do love being abroad, but we love going home at the end of it all. 

So, Mr. Wonka, you can keep your chocolate factory. I will be visiting, absolutely at least once a year, but I will be returning home to where I know I can get a decent cup of tea, where my loved ones are only a few miles away, and where I don’t have anxiety from worrying if I’ve separated my rubbish properly.

Until next time,

Beth ❤️

[ideas4homes-blog]

20 Interesting Halloween Ideas for your Home

A new article has been published on http://www.ideas4homes.com/20-interesting-halloween-ideas-home/

20 Interesting Halloween Ideas for your Home

Halloween is a great time of the year and it is a great excuse to come up with great décor ideas to enhance the whole experience.  There are a number of ideas for home decor, ranging from spooky to fun, that you could implement in your home during this enjoyable seasonal event.  This is a good way of getting into the Halloween mood and if you have a have children they will definitely enjoy the process of decorating as well as the resulting look. These halloween ideas will also ensure that you can appropriately welcome any trick-or-treaters to your doorstep.

Glitter Pumpkins

Nothing says Halloween quite like a carved pumpkin.  But you don’t have to settle for the ordinary cookie- cutter Halloween pumpkin. You can easily accentuate your pumpkins with decorative glitter. These glittery decorative pieces can be used to dress up your tables, mantel, porch or any other preferred space around your home.  You could carve the pumpkins into pretty receptacles that can be used to store items such as treats and other trinkets.  Glitter pumpkins can also be used as great Halloween-themed candle holders.

If you enjoy DIY tasks you can go ahead and purchase the glitter and adhesive which you can apply on the pumpkin.  If you’re not DIY-centric you can simply purchase an artificial glitter pumpkin from a craft shop or check online for any other outlets that have them in stock.

DIY Mason Jar Decorations

Creating your own personalized decorations is a great way of enjoying Halloween.  The beauty of mason jars is that they are easily available and can be converted into attractive decorations using some creativity and DIY knowledge.  For instance, you could come up with an attractive container for candy using a mason jar. Simply wrap some glittery embossing paper around the mouth of the jar and drape the rest of it in mesh netting of your choice. You could add some stickers to complete the look.  In addition to this you could also paint the jar with Halloween themed designs and use some easily available materials like gauze, Styrofoam, moss and twigs to create creepy looking set ups within the jars.  There are plenty of ideas that you could implement using mason jars so don’t limit yourself to designs that you have seen before.

Lace Draped Candles

A simple way of adding some mystical appeal to your home during the trick-or-treat season is by using candles to cast shadows.  Using plain candles for this can be a bit of a drag and a simple way of adding some appeal is by wrapping them in a black lace design.  The contrast of the colors and the mesh pattern gives the candles a whole new look.

It is important to note that lace material is flammable so it is not advisable to use actual lace fabric on the candles. The best way of achieving the look is by cutting a piece of lace, laying it on a disposable paper plate and brushing it with black tempera paint (nonflammable).  Then roll the candles on the paper to transfer the pattern onto the candle shaft. Set the candles aside for sime time so that the paint dries before lighting the candles.

Bat Decor Doorway

What better way to welcome people to your home on Halloween than with a bunch of bats on your doorway (not real ones of course).  Bats have a way of creating a spooky feeling and it is easy to either create your own designs or buy readymade bat decals from various outlets.  It is quite simple to make felt bats by tracing the outline of a bad silhouette onto a piece of felt fabric and cutting it out carefully.  Repeat the same process for different sizes and shapes until you have enough to create a realistic-looking swarm of bats.

Skull Planters 

If you enjoy serving up some dark humor these are great ornaments to consider placing in your home during Halloween.  They are basically small pots that are used to accommodate indoor plants.  The skull planters come in various designs and materials ranging from wood to crystal.  If you do not want to place actual plants in the skull planters you could opt for artificial foliage. You can accentuate this décor accessory with additional Halloween themed materials such as faux spiders or cob webs.

Spider web doormats

Welcome trick-or-treaters and other guests to your home with a spider web themed door mat. This is an accessory that will really show that you are in the Halloween mood.  In addition to setting the right mood, these door mats are also functional by reducing the amount of dirt being tracked into your home.  If you like this décor idea you could also look for similar spider themed mats for indoor spaces.  There are plenty of colors, sizes and designs to choose from so don’t be afraid to experiement with different looks.

Custom Party Favors

Halloween-themed handouts are a great way of personalizing your sweet treats.  With a little ingenuity you can gather handfuls of treats and pack them into small colored bags. To add a personal touch you can add tie strings and a card with an interesting message.

Hand out these party favors to kids and visitors during Halloween and enjoy the pleasant reaction from them.

Serpent Curtain Tiebacks   

Test your DIY skills by intertwining  three black ropes and securing the tail end with black duct tape and affix a painted wooden spoon (with the handle cut off) to act as the head of the snake. Use some white paint or stickers for the eyes.  Finally, you can tape a red piece of paper under the wooden head to create the illusion of a forked tongue.  Tie this accessory around your curtains and enjoy the creepy look that may actually scare a couple of people.

If you are unable to make this simple snake tieback, you could check online for readymade varieties which are supplied by various outlets.

Interesting Paper Cutouts

These are probably the easiest accessories to craft at home and they have a great effect on the overall Halloween décor in your home. All you need to have is a template of you preferred object and a colored paper for the final cutouts. Click here for a brief tutorial on how to make simple paper cutouts at home.  You can create cutouts depicting all sorts of spooky stuff like spiders, skulls, or even a series of googly eyes.

Halloween Themed Parties

Nothing exemplifies Halloween like a good old get-together. To spice things up a little you can come up with inventive themes for the party. For instance, if you have children, you could organize a Nancy Drew themed bash based on the famous investigative novels for kids.  Make the occasion fun by incorporating props like magnifying glasses, maps, written clues and spooky draping.   Be sure to come up with a plan for the event and consult the right people before starting with the preparation.

Phantom Mirrors

Creating a spooky illusion is quite easy using a mirror and it can go a long way in creating a great Halloween vibe in your home. All you have to do is draw a basic outline of a ghoulish figure on a frosted window film sheet. Then go ahead and cut along the outlines as well as the mouth and eyes.  When you’re done, simply paste the film onto a mirror and voila! You have your very own phantom mirror.

Homemade Feather Epaulets

The Halloween mood can also be extended to your choice of clothing during this yearly event.  If you do not have the time or budget to invest in a full outfit you could opt for these small but fanciful clothing accessories.  Feather epaulets can go with almost any outfit and they can definitely help in setting the Halloween mood especially if you are hosting guests.  If you are a DIY enthusiast simply look for some felt fabric and cut out two equally sized oval pieces that can fit on your shoulder.  Look for a bunch of black feathers and hot glue each one to the two felt pieces. When gluing the feathers, start with the longest ones at the bottom and gradually layer them on top of each other to create a sort of mat with the wispy small feathers at the top.  Once the glue has dried you have to find a way of crafting a clip that will be used to latch onto your clothing.  You can do this by gluing a snap hairclip onto each of the epaulets.  Once all these steps are completed you are ready to clip them onto your shoulders and mesmerize everyone.

Hocus Pocus Bowls

Currently there’s a trend of using farmhouse style pottery for design and functional domestic use.  You can ride on this trend to incorporate a Halloween theme for your home.  Search online for these nesting bowls which you can use as decorative pieces or for storing candy and other treats.  There are certain suppliers who can add personalized lettering or images on the pots which effectively adds some context.

Bony Ornaments

Gather a couple of phoney mini skulls and bones and place them into a transparent vase or jar.  This can be placed on a tabletop or mantelpiece to create a creepy ambience.  Add a couple of optical illusions such as toy spiders to further enhance the look.

Mummified Pumpkin

If you’re bored of the same old carved pumpkin you can create a new look by wrapping it in gauze, giving it an even spookier look.

Rustic Banners

What better way to welcome October than by hanging a spooky aged ‘Happy Halloween’ banner on your mantelpiece.  This is a simple yet impactful element of Halloween that can make a difference in your home.

Wooden Pumpkins

Actual pumpkins can get musty and some may even start to rot after carving, so it may be more practical to seek a more permanent option.  Wood carved pumpkins are a great alternative because they can be used multiple times with minimal degradation.  Wood carved pumpkins come in various sizes ranging from table-sized pieces to large gnome-like structures that can be placed on your lawn or backyard.  Some carvers offer customized carvings made to your specifications.

Iron Candle Lanterns

If you want to make your home look like something from a ‘Sleepy Hollow’ set you can invest in several iron and glass lanterns. The accessories are great especially at night and they can be used in different parts of the house.  They are also great for outdoor use as long as the weather is favorable.

Gothic Flower Bouquet

Flowers are always a great addition to any home but when it’s Halloween it is time to try out some new flower arrangements.  Black bouquets are a great option due to their sinister appearance.  You could either buy them or make them at home and place them in bowls around the house.  Click here to get a simple tutorial on the steps involved in crafting a paper Halloween flower bouquet.

Creepy Wreaths

Wreaths are symbolic in nature and when placed on doors in the month of October they are often used to signify the Halloween season.  Compared to Christmas wreaths that are often bright and cheery, Halloween varieties are normally of the spooky kind and come in gloomy color schemes (often black). The materials used to make these décor accessories range from natural reeds to crepe paper. Many people opt to come up with their own design in order to achieve the effect that they desire. But if you have no time to do it yourself simply shop around for an array of readymade Halloween wreaths available online and offline.