#reuseable bag

[ooshbal1]

👏

[plushie-lovey]

Look who I was able to pull out of storage today!! I went to put a huge batch of plushies in (finally), so I figured why not take a few old friends out?

I hadn't been able to tell before, but unfortunately Cas, Lucy, and Minty are all nicotine stained. My lights were real dim and yellow in my old apartment so I wasn't able to see, and these guys had been packed at the bottom of a box for 3 years. So until now I didn't know they were damaged. But that's ok! I can wash it out. Though Minty will be a challenge since I've had her the longest of all the plush pictured. Time to give them a nice warm welcome home bubble bath!!

[sabtastique]

I picked up silkscreen this past month and made a whole bunch of double sided tote bags in a shared studio space! If you like 'em, my Etsy shop will have 15 for sale around 50$ Canadian with worldwide shipping included. Totes all come with a little free coffee crow holo sticker (the tag). www . sabtastic . etsy . com

[bigmeatpete69420]

Yes I have a favorite reuseable shopping bag

Why?

[furhelden]

like in the grand scheme of things. yes anastasie had a weird childhood. abandoned in a tomb, raised by vorgoth, trained since birth as a necromancer… like objectively, it was weird. but like god, she was so loved. they’re the embodiment of “raised by the community”, almost always held by someone, adored and doted on constantly. vorgoth and myrna kept every single drawing they did, probably had professional paintings done of her being silly. kept all their macaroni art, did her hair into funky braids. anastasie has absolutely no desire to find or know who her biological parents are because they were raised by people who loved them.

[lactaselackingfreak]

These colors are just UGH😩🩷

[forestryfae]

i also sent a request for my doctor to renew my ear cream cus the eczema came back so i get to pick that up tomorrow which is neat. and i bought qtips and postits and steel wool which are all things ive needed so yay

[trilliumtriffid]

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.

[betweenapitchandacast]

7 Small Ways To Be More Eco-Friendly During the Holidays

The holiday season is a time for family, friends, and festive cheer. However, it’s also a time when we generate a lot of waste. From the wrapping paper to the tree, Christmas can significantly impact the environment. If you’re looking for ways to make your Christmas more eco-friendly, you can take plenty of steps to reduce your carbon footprint, and here’s how: Table of Contents The Tree The…

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Checking His List

Warnings: stalker behaviour and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: Your shopping trip turns hectic.

Character: Curtis Everett

Day Twenty-Eight of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - the mall is packed and we keep running into each other.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

While it’s below zero outside, inside the mall, the air is sweltering. The flurry of maddened shoppers searching for gifts churns the air with body heat and a wall of noise. You want to cover your airs and shrink down to nothing. You hate crowds but you have a list and you made a promise. 

You laid it all out meticulously. You have a strategy but you’re not sure how much that will help given the furor all around. You set off to the first store on your list. The toys will be a lovely surprise at the community lunch. You know the kids won’t be getting much at home. 

You squint at the paper. You made notes of Diana’s every specification. She’s very particular but you imagine that’s why she runs the children’s centre. 

You look up as you approach the east entrance of the department store, just in time to avoid another shopper. You stutter step and back up as you wait for the man to pass. You only realise then that he isn’t moving. He’s standing entirely still amidst the crowds, though it might only be because he saw you about to crash into him. 

“Oh, sorry,” you murmur, not sure he can hear you above the Christmas carols and rowdy shoppers. 

He doesn’t reply, doesn’t react. You hesitate and step around him, issuing another apology as your stress burns even hotter. You’re really no good with the general public, worse in peak hours, and you’ve only just gotten started. 

You don’t come here often. It takes you some time to get situated and find the right aisle. Oh, those are the art sets she wanted, and the Barbies. Hum, they don’t have many within budget. Oh, and the little cars. Those are cute. 

You push your cart, only an inch before you rear back, only then seeing the man standing further down the aisle. You’re not sure you need anything else there, still you might like to check if you can limit how many stores you need to run around to.  

The man doesn’t look at you, he doesn’t even really seem to be looking at the shelves. He’s just sort of there. Then, before you can muster an ‘excuse me’ or anything, he turns and marches off. The way he walks is stiff and straight and staunch. 

As you slowly roll forward and refocus on your list, he sticks in your head. Do you know him? There was something familiar about him? Could he be one of the parents from the children’s centre? Would he be here if he was? 

You peruse and find the selection lacking. You head for the checkout and wait patiently. The line zigzags around shelves of more merchandise, shoppers continuing their spending even as they wait to get their grand total. You peer around dully, unseeingly, until a dark spec catches your eye. 

It’s that man again. The same one from the aisle. His face is unreadable. He wears a beanie and a grey jacket that should help him blend in but for whatever reason, he sticks out. 

He’s look at you? Is he? 

You crane to see behind you. The sign calls out the next available till. It’s your turn. You peek back again but the man is gone. You’re paranoid. That's all. 

You go up and unload your cartful and unfold a reuseable bag. You grabbed only your biggest bags for today. You expect it will be an awkward journey home with all this. You pay with the company card Diana lent you and neatly fold away the receipt. 

You’re certain to leave your cart in the pen meant for them and head out the west exit. It’s closer to your next stop. The bath and body store is fragrant, the air so dense with aroma that it makes your head foggy. 

You buy the cute little bottles for kids; the bubble baths and seasonal candy cane scents. A mini scrubbie for each too. As you put it all in the small basket offered to you by an associate, you look up to the tight corner ahead of you. 

A mother and daughter browse the floral assortment of candles and behind them, a man stands, undistracted by the shelves and tables of product. He watches you. Your eyes meet and you wince. It’s him! That’s so strange.  

It’s one thing to keep running into the same person. It happens in a mall, but you haven’t seen him buy one thing. You haven’t even seen him look at a single purchase. 

You turn and curl around the other side of the table of 3 for $15 candles. The checkout line is twice as long as the previous one. As hike up the bags from the department store. Why did you, the only person without a car, offer to do this? Well, for once, you wanted to feel useful. 

You sense movement. A group of girls flutter up behind you, gabbing about if they should get coffee or just go look at shoes next as they get in line behind you. Then another shadow. Darker. Taller. 

The man passes closely and stops right by you. Your heart is racing. It’s not him, it’s the crowd, the smothering press of people looking for soaps and lotions and candle melts. 

He bends and reaches for something on the floor. He brings up the soap bottle with the reindeer antlers and holds it out. It must have slipped out. You accept it from him with a thanks. These baskets aren’t great for the smaller items. 

He’s already walking away before you can get a look at his face. His grey blue eyes are stamped in your mind but the rest of him remains obscure. You shake away the odd encounter and shuffle forward with the line. 

You tuck the smaller bag of soaps and such into one of your bigger bags and continue on once free of the shop. You don’t expect the dollar store to be an easy task, but a necessary one. You need wrap and few smaller stocking stuffers. It won’t be your last stop but it’s closeby and you don’t want to double back if you can help it. 

You pause to check your list as you sidle out of the way of the dollar store entrance. Alright, that, that, that... You lift your head and push the small cart through the first row. It’s nice to have the weight off your arms, but you’ll have to pick all that up again. And more. 

As you come to end of the first aisle, the foot of the cart rams to a halt. You squeak and look up. That man! His hands clamp onto the end of the cart and you blink. 

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to.” 

He just stares and looks past you. He steps around the cart and as he comes along the side, you shrink down, shying away as you expect the worst. Instead, he inserts himself between you and the cart you hear rolling down after you. He stays there, a barrier between you and the unseen shopper. That’s... strange. 

You scurry on frantically. You’re jittering from it all. The man, the hordes, the assault of lights and noise. You need to get out of her soon. 

You get as much gift wrap and bags as you need and use the self-checkout. You’re grateful for that modern convenience. Your social wick is burning short. 

You park your cart, take your bags, and go. As you emerge into the mall, a man walks full force into you, his wife narrowly missing you with her baby stroller. Neither of them apologise as you struggle not to topple. You lift the bags higher with all your strength and forge forward. 

You go to the end of the bench where a few teen boys sit with their skateboards. You turn your back to them and face the mall map. You take a deep breath and hold it in. You’re about to crack. This was a big mistake. You’re barely strong enough to go get groceries on a given week. You just wanted to help! That’s why you volunteer with the kids, even if you mostly hide in the background. 

Your eyes are glassy as you fight back tears. You release your breath slowly. It hurts. The panic attack needles hotly in your forehead and ears. 

“Scram,” the deep voice cuts through the hubbub and the snap of dry fingers adds the punctuation. 

The boys behind you quiet and you turn your head to watch over your shoulder as they grab their boards and hurry away. The man in the beanie sits, knees wide, and leans his elbows on his legs. He curls his shoulders and looks around like a guard dog. 

Your skin tingles as you sit only a few feet from him. You should go too, before you lose all your nerve. Your bags crinkle as you hook the handles around your hands. 

“You don’t gotta go,” he says. 

You wince and turn to him. He keeps his gaze aimed at the closest store. You peer around. 

“Busy,” he comments. 

“Um, yes it is,” you agree. “Thanks, er, I got more to get.” 

You gulp and turn away. Your bags hit the bench as you flee. That was weird too. Or maybe you’re just unbearably clueless. It seems like he was trying to give you space. That he chased away those boys deliberately. But why? 

Flavoured lip glosses, sparkly nail polishes, socks themed for the most popular kids’ shows... you check the marks off your list in your final haul. Just one more thing. A few of the boys like to play knights but the foam swords are all whittling away from play. 

You go down the next aisle, your cart doing little to part the sea of people. You can see what you need. The toy blades and even a few shields. You try to inch forward as an older man turns to the other shelf, but another woman fills the space before you can. 

You wheel back and wait. You just need to get in and out. The woman finally moves and as you go to roll ahead, another cart noses into yours and squeezes into the space. You sniff and pull back again. 

You stare helplessly. That wasn’t very polite but she doesn’t seem to notice. She takes out her phone and ignores you and the shelves. Is she even looking? 

“Hey,” the gritty voice chills you as a large hand rests on the front of your cart. The man in the beanie steps between you and that woman, ���you should apologise.” 

“Huh? What?” She keeps her phone up but you can’t see much else. 

“You hit her with your cart. Say sorry.” 

“Who? What are you talking about?” 

“Apologise,” he peels his hand form the cart and jabs his thumb toward you without looking. 

The woman huffs then leans to see you. You give a hapless shrug. Her eyes scan up the man’s dark jacket and she shifts. 

“I-- I didn’t realise,” she clears her throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” 

“Maybe if you cared more about what’s going on than your phone,” the man snarls, looming over her until she backs away. She turns and grabs her cart, nearly hitting another as she rushes away. 

He lets go and turns back, marching past you without a word. You can’t speak either. You’re burnt out. You’re going to get the last of it and go. 

You finally get your turn and grab a couple of swords, each with a different colour handle, and some shields. You put it in your cart and circle the perimeter of the store to avoid the claustrophobic aisles. The checkout line however cannot be avoided. 

You step into the narrow snaking lane where you are to wait your turn. As you lean on your cart, there’s a brush against your back, and another, and another. The garble of voices behind you drone with the rest of the overwhelming noises all around. You sink your head down and cover your ears. You can’t take it anymore. 

You’re jostled again as a man laughs loudly and his elbow jabs your back. You gasp and turn to see what’s going on. A black shape moves decisively from the back of the line, cutting along the edge without falter.  

The man in the beanie steps up and extends his arm between you and the man after you, the one who keeps knocking into you. He pushes him calmly away and inserts himself there, back to you as he crosses his arms and plants his feet wide. 

“Hey, dude, you’re butting--” 

“Pay attention,” the man growls. “You’re being a nuisance.” 

“Dude, I’m waiting--” 

“You’re bothering people. Too loud.” 

“Whatever. You a cop or some shit?” 

The man doesn’t answer. He doesn’t move either. Even as the line ahead of you does. You roll with it and he keeps his barrier in place. You can’t help but be thankful for the unrequested buffer. 

You pay, get your receipt, fill up your last bag, and push your cart into the corral by the door. You’re not going back through the mall.

Before you can back up, another shopper shoulders by and snatches the cart you just disposed. You stagger back and watch, dumbfounded. What is wrong with people? 

Your ears are ringing and your eyes watering, and you didn’t factor in being physically battered by a shopping trip. This time of year is horrid. It’s chaos. People are animals. Just like you always knew. 

Your arms strain as you clutch your bags and make a slow progress through the automatic doors. You just need to get to the bus. You stop just to the left of the doors and try to adjust your grasp. 

Before you can, the weight is lifted and something rough brushes around your fingers. You are too stunned to resist as the bags are unhooked from your hands. You reel around and face the thief. You’re an easy target. 

“Where’s your car?” It’s that man in his beanie, with the grey eyes and the dark stubble. 

“I-- I don’t--- Who are you?” 

“A good samaritan,” he rasps.  

“You don’t have to--” You reach for the bags and he steps out of your reach. “I don’t have a car.” 

He stares at you, “I can walk you.” 

“It’s fine, the bus stop---” you nod towards the street. 

“Bus...” he mutters. “Dangerous. With all this.” 

“It’s fine,” you insist. 

“I have a truck. I’ll drive you.” 

“You don’t-- why?” You sputter. 

He looks around. He’s quiet as his eyes scan the area. “Merry Christmas.” It’s not a very cheery tiding. 

“Oh, but--” 

“Curtis,” he says. 

“What?” 

“So we’re not strangers. I’m Curtis, and you?” 

You heave and give your name. “I really can’t let you do all that--” 

“But I’m going to,” he says and turns away. You have no choice but to follow him. 

“Wait--” 

“I don’t like crowds either,” he intones as you scurry to keep up with him. 

You want to say you don’t think anyone does but you’re still reeling, as much from the hectic experience in the mall as from his sudden act of... kindness? 

He stops behind a slate gray truckbed and slips the bags onto his wrist. He fishes in his pocket and there’s a loud click as it unlocks. He pulls open the back and loads your shopping under the heavy cover. 

“You have a lot of kids?” He wonders. 

You shake your head, “I work at the community centre. Volunteer, actually...” 

He nods and shuts the back of the truck. You wring your hands shakily and stare at the silver lock. You frown and look up at him, finding him staring at you already. 

“You don’t trust me,” he reaches into his jacket and takes out a canister. “Well, if I make a wrong move, press down.” 

He holds out the long black spray can. You shake your head. What is it? 

“Bear mace. You can keep it.” 

You furrow your brow and continue to gape at the inexplicable offer. Why does he have this? 

“Can never be too safe,” he takes your hand and places the can in it. “Make sure those toys get back safe for those kids.” 

You wrap your fingers around the metal and he lets you go. You look down at it then at him again. You’re so confused but too tired to argue. You suppose it is the season for giving, even if he doesn’t seem the festive type. 

“Anywhere else you need to go?” He asks as he takes his keys out. 

You shake your head and back away. He watches you for a moment before he moves himself. He walks up on side of the truck and you the other. The door locks thunk loudly. 

Well, whoever Curtis is, can he be any worse than the general holiday shopper? 

[pillowfriendly]

some places theyre free. theyre still flimsy but thats ok, their true purpose is for you to take a bunch of when no ones looking to use for scooping out the litterbox

who put self-checkout in my lidl

[kotaromita]

Open Thread [Halloween Event, Mermaid AU]

Kotaro was in potentially the most distressing situation a mermaid can be in, that which was immobilized somewhere easily accessible to humans. So, yes, maybe he was a bit of a moron for fucking around as much as he did right by a fishing dock. But fishermen usually brought radios with them and that meant he could listen to that, listen to the fishermen whistle (he couldn't figure out how to do that yet), and if he was lucky, steal a handful of delicious worms from their bucket. He was pretty sure he understood fishing nets well enough to not get caught in one and he was more than experienced enough getting his hand ripped open on fishing hooks to not go grabbing any.

Unfortunately, the tide coming in caused a grocery bag to end up over his head, which wouldn't really be a big deal if not for the fact some discarded fishing line wrapped its way around his neck, trapping him in his plastic prison. He wouldn't have cared too much if it weren't for the fact it was one of those laminated reuseable grocery bags that he couldn't rip through. So much for "eco-friendly." With his neck gills, mouth, and nose now unable to receive moving water, even when he was latched onto the side of a boat, he was in a life or death situation. Most likely death.

He's freaking out, clinging to the side of the dock and lifting himself out of the water to breathe with the gills on his ribs every so often. He hears a voice. A human humming on the dock above. He ducks under, trying to stay out of sight, praying they'll leave, but fuck, they don't, and he can't breathe because stupid no swim bladder. Unbeknownst to him, directly in the person's line of sight, he drags himself up on the edge of the doc to take another gulp of air.

[trucgrit]

location: outside madam duala's apothecary

time: midday

xavier needed to get some more salves from madam duala's for some burns that he was still healing from over a decade ago. for a demon to get burned it must have been deep and it has been something he has been recovering from for over a century, but that was a story for another day. "you know i'm surprised that you answered my text wanting to run some simple errands." xavier says as he slings the reuseable bag over his shoulder. "how about we stop at hollowed grounds for a coffee? i still need to take my bike to the golden piston and get my mirror fixed, i crashed it the other weekend running into a pole on accident." on accident-- sure but his neighbor's dog was yapping at him when he hit the lamppost. nothing out of the blue, but xavier was coming home from envy and he just wanted to get home as fast as possible, not much like alcohol does anything to him anymore.... "my neighbor's dog was yapping all night, can you believe it? after i had crashed my vehicle once and quietly, but nothing that the workers at golden piston can't fix. is there anything you need to get done?"

[archaiceuphoriah]

Let's take off our shoes and get sand get between our toes. Such a nice feeling. One step, two step, down to the water; you want to run? Okay, let's run! Goodness, you're so fast! Take a deep breath; can you hear the ocean talking to you? What's wrong, my little one? Come here, come to Mama...tell me, why do you have tears in your eyes? You're scared? What has you so scared? Oh, I see...you're worried about all the creatures who live in the ocean. My little one has such a big heart. It's okay to feel sad; it makes Mama sad too. But, there are things we can do to help, right? You're always so good at reminding Mama to recycle or bring her reuseable bags to the store. The sharks and the rays and even the itty, bitty fish are lucky to have someone as sweet as you care about them!

(To my requester, I hope you enjoy! )

[digital999placebo]

I don't think it's cringe, but I do think people should think twice before buying an expensive figurine or something like that. I follow a well known artist on instagram and she has so many figurines she could probably sell them all and make a fortune. Some people are collectors though so I try to keep that in mind, but I have no idea what a person would use or even do with so many figurines. but I guess some artists could use their figurines to look at as references for their art? is it some kind of addiction? Idk...howeverrrrrr If I ever saw someone wear hetalia merch in public...yeah, I'm gonna use the word cringe😭 I would walk the other way sowwy😔

My problem is when does collection turn into over consumption? Figurines, legos, bags, shoes etc do not naturally come about in nature, it’s made in resource intensive and polluting factories by exploited workers and later shipped across the world with airplanes and ships causing even more pollution, not to mention the amount of plastic and cardboard goes into packing these things to keep them safe. Collection, unless you’re purchasing second-hand or finding things out and about on the street on your daily walk is a part of over consumption. Every single “limited edition” “holiday edition” etc is purposefully encouraging you to purchase new things you don’t actually need or have any use for. It’s less about “oh this is personally cringe for me” and more “oh this is cringe because you’re giving into capitalism under the pretence that it’s a hobby”.

Also sure, collections could be viewed as an investment of sorts, no different from having funds or stocks. I’m not saying funds and stocks are all ethical, some of them thrive on war, pollution (non reuseable energy like coal and oil) and exploitation of developing countries and its citizens. But there’s always an option to invest in reuseable energy and National companies.

So not hetalia merch specifically but just all of it overall.

I’ve also found a double standard within the world of collection on the basis of sexism, it’s somewhat “justified” spending an obscene amount of money on, let’s face it, toys such as figurines, dolls and legos (there are other things as well such as pens etc not exclusively toys of course). This is somehow less frowned upon than collecting clothes and other “feminine” items. How many times have you seen someone criticise a person collecting Lego sets compared to a person collecting shoes or bags? But that’s another thing :p