#shopping bag web

[woodrocko]

HIJINKA’S OF THE SILLIESSS (pleasedontfloppleasedontflop)

please reblog i worked hard in it <:]/NF/NF

[magicalshopping]

♡ Web Heart Bat Winged Bag from Claire's ♡

[webdiggerxxx]

꧁★꧂

[interweb-poster]

claire's spiderweb heart crossbody bag

[happywebdesign]

Shupatto Bags

[thinkingnot]

you legit can claw machine anythin in taiwan im not even joking

[luv-lock]

⸻ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅʟʏ ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏʀ ⸻

Pairing: Yandere Batfam x Fem Reader Part 1

Headcanon: What if Bruce find a kid with spider powers?

Notes: Reader have the same abilities as spiderman. She's 10 years old and a year younger than Dick. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

You were on your way back home with a hefty diamond in hand—a steal worth more than anything you’d swiped before. Sure, it wasn’t exactly something a kid could sell at a pawn shop, but you weren’t stupid. You knew where to go, who to talk to. You weren’t scared of the shady underworld—it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

That was until the Bat and his little bird found you.

“Drop it,” a deep, commanding voice called from the shadows.

You froze mid-swing, perched high on a rooftop with the bag strapped to your back. Turning your head slightly, you caught the unmistakable silhouette of Batman. Next to him, Robin—a kid about your age—stood with his hands on his hips, looking ridiculously eager.

“Oh, hell no,” you muttered under your breath before shooting a web to the nearest building and bolting.

But they were faster than you anticipated. They cut you off at every turn. You snarled and swung as fast as you could, but a Batarang snagged your web mid-flight, sending you tumbling to the ground. Before you could recover, a pair of strong hands pinned you down.

“Let me go, you big asshole!” you screamed, thrashing wildly as Bruce cuffed your hands with some high-tech restraints.

“Not happening,” he replied gruffly.

“Language,” Dick added with an almost scolding tone.

And that was how you found yourself in this position. They tied you up like some kind of psycho, ropes binding your wrists and ankles as you sat in a chair in the Batcave. You didn’t make it easy for them, twisting and spitting curses like a feral cat.

“Let me go, you freak!” you yelled, thrashing as Bruce stood over you, arms crossed. “You think this is gonna scare me?!”

Dick stepped forward, trying to defuse the situation. “Hey, uh...bro,” he said awkwardly, his boyish grin in full force. “Look, I get it. You’re upset. But this place is actually kinda cool, don’t you think? Like—wow, are those real bats up there?”

You turned your glare on him, looking him up and down with a sneer. “Wow, are you real stupid or just playin’ dumb?” you snapped. “Do I look like I wanna talk about your creepy bat zoo?”

Dick blinked, clearly not expecting your hostility. But then he grinned again, undeterred. “You’ve got powers, huh? That’s pretty awesome. Maybe we could be—”

“Shut up, Robin Hood,” you interrupted. “I wouldn’t be caught dead hangin’ with some sidekick in a green elf costume. You’re embarrassing.”

Dick’s face turned red, and he fidgeted, unsure how to respond. Meanwhile, Bruce crouched in front of you, his piercing gaze boring into yours.

“You’re very...hostile for someone so young,” he said calmly. “Why don’t you tell me who you’re working with? That diamond you stole isn’t something a kid like you can sell on your own.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair as much as the ropes would allow. “Oh, sure, let me just spill my whole evil plan to the Bat Guy,” you drawled. “What are you gonna do, ground me?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened slightly, but he stayed calm.

Dick, meanwhile, was still fuming from your earlier insult. “You're such a bitch, you know that?” he blurted. “I was just trying to be nice!”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Aw, poor baby. Did I hurt your little feelings? Go cry about it, Boy Blunder.”

“He’s… feisty,” Dick whispered.

“That's a girl,” Bruce corrected flatly.

Dick blinked, his face going red as he stared at you. “W-Wait, you’re a girl?!”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “Duh, dumbass.”

“I-I just thought—”

“Yeah, yeah, you thought wrong. Congrats. Now SHUT UP!”

Bruce sighed. “Robin, step back.”

“But—”

“Now.”

Dick retreated reluctantly, glancing at you with a mix of irritation and curiosity. Bruce leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous tone. “Let’s try this again. Who are you working with?”

You spat on his face. “Your mom, bitch.”

That was it. Before you could blink, Bruce grabbed the ropes and hoisted you upside down, letting you dangle in mid-air.

“HEY! Put me down, you psychopath!” you yelled, kicking uselessly.

Bruce's jaw ticked. Without a word, he stormed off, leaving you hanging upside down like a piñata.

Dick stayed behind, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Finally, he managed, “S-So... uh... you... doing okay up there?”

“What do you think?!”

Dick winced, laughing nervously. “R-Right. Yeah. Of course. Stupid question.” He paused, glancing at the ropes holding you up, then back at your upside-down glare. “Uh, you're really a girl huh?” he stammered, cheeks red.

You stared at him, unimpressed. “Yeah...”

“Wow... That's so cool, I—I mean, uh, I know you’re a girl now! B-But before, I—I thought you were a... a guy. B-But not in a bad way! Just in a... ‘cool guy’ way! But now you’re, uh... y-you’re a cool girl!” He laughed nervously. “You’re different from other girls I’ve met, I mean, in a good way! Like, you’re cool, and, uh—”

“Please stop talking before I lose what little respect I have for you.”

“Right. Uh. Got it,” he mumbled, backing away slowly. “I’ll, uh... just... be over here if you need anything! Or, uh, don’t. That’s cool too...”

You groaned, closing your eyes. “Kill me now.”

“Y-You don’t mean that, right?” he asked nervously, his voice cracking slightly.

“Robin.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“R-Right. Shutting up now.”

The next day, Bruce returned with new information. He sat in front of you, untied this time but still under his watchful gaze.

“I know why you’re stealing,” he said simply.

You stiffened, your usual bravado faltering for a moment. “Yeah? Good for you.”

“Your mother has cancer,” he continued. “And you’re trying to take care of her and your siblings. That’s a lot for someone your age.”

Your throat tightened, and you clenched your jaw. Your blood ran cold. “You leave them out of this.”

Bruce’s expression softened ever so slightly. “Don't worry. I’m going to help them. But you have to stop stealing.”

You blinked at him, suspicious. “Help?”

“A house, medical care for your mom, clothes, food—everything you need.”

You clenched your jaw, tears threatening to spill. You wouldn’t let him see you cry. “Why would you help me?”

“Because I can.”

For once, you were speechless.

True to his word, Bruce Wayne—Batman—changed your life. He bought your family a house, new clothes, paid for your mother’s hospital bills and now you and your siblings going to school. You didn’t know how to thank him. So, you didn’t. Not right away.

One night, two years after Bruce first caught you, you climbed through his window at the Manor. He had just returned from patrol, removing his cowl when he saw you.

“The new clothes suit you,” he said, his usual gruffness tinged with something softer. “You look...lovely.”

Your face heated. You looked away, fiddling with the pink clip in your now longer hair. "Thanks," you mumbled, then, after a pause, "I… I wanted to say… thank you. For everything." You shifted uncomfortably, still not used to feeling like someone actually cared about you.

"No need," he said.

Bruce smiled, and there was something in his eyes that made your chest tighten. Then, without thinking, you blurted out, “Can I join you? In... whatever this is. I mean, you’ve helped me. So… it's only make sense if I do the same, right?”

Bruce studied you for a long moment before nodding. “We’ll see.”

And for the first time you smiled back.

Side Headcanon

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[emiliaoleary]

Hooking rugs that look like dogs

Here's how I do it:

The process I use is called rug hooking (not latch hook or punch needle or tufting, though it is the forerunner of the latter two techniques). Rugs are hooked by pulling loops of fabric strips or yarn through the holes of a base fabric with a coarse open weave, like burlap, or linen, or rug warp. The loops are pulled through the fabric with a squat-handled hook whose business end is shaped like a crochet hook.  There are no knots and the loops aren't sewed down in any way.  The whole thing stays put just by the tension of all those loops packed together in the weave of the foundation fabric.

This isn't a true detailed tutorial but a walk-through of my particular process. The same information is on my web page, emilyoleary.com .

I hook with yarn, rather than with cut strips of wool fabric, which is what many rug hookers use.  I can get a looser, more organic distribution of loops with yarn than I could with wool strips, which are hooked in neat lines. 

Mostly I use wool yarn. In terms of yarn weight, I can use DK, worsted, or Aran.  If I'm using thicker yarn, I leave more holes un-hooked; if I'm using finer yarn, I hook more densely or double up lengths of it.  I particularly like using single ply yarns (like Brown Sheep Lamb's Pride or Malabrigo Worsted).  I don't keep count, but I think I usually use around two dozen types and colors of yarn per dog.  

This is my yarn wall in my apartment. Mostly brown and gray yarn!

I start from a small drawing in my sketchbook, then I head to FedEx office to use a copy machine, blowing up the drawing repeatedly and experimenting with how big the dog rug should be. 

After transferring the image onto my linen, I immediately go over it with Sharpie, because the Saral is really difficult to see and really easy to rub off.

The rug is held taut by a PVC quilting frame that I set on my lap.

I push my hook down through the fabric with my right hand and my left hand stays below the fabric and guides the yarn while I pull it up and through with the hook. Not every hole in the fabric is hooked. Hooking every hole would make the rug too dense. I do hook pretty densely, though-- If you pick up one of my rugs you’ll see they have a slight curl to them, which is because they’re hooked pretty tight. I'm using all different weights and types of yarn, so it's a challenge to keep the overall tension even.

I hook my loops at varying heights to create a very low relief. Sometimes I trim the loops to make them fluffier or wispier or to shape a particular part. I look at a reference photo while I work and pull out and redo sections a lot.

My q-snap frame can accommodate the growing dog rug. I have extenders to make it bigger and I can clamp around my hooking.

The back of a rug looks like lines of little stitches. The lines are little worm trails snaking around because lines of hooking are not supposed to cross over each other. It's important to start a new length of yarn rather than cross over a stitch you already made! I read this when I first started and took it to heart. It makes it much easier to undo and redo hooking if you have to (and I redo sections A Lot). It also keeps the back from getting too bulky and resulting in uneven wear on the back of a functional rug that gets floor use.

When I’m done hooking everything I turn the rug over and brush watered-down Sobo glue on the edges of the dog, making sure to get one or two of the outermost lines of hooking. I do a couple coats of this thinned out glue. I'm careful not to use so much that it seeps to the front of the rug. When the glue is dry I cut the rug out, but I don't cut so close that the loops don't have any linen to keep them in.

​ It generally takes me at least several months to finish one dog rug. My hooking frame and yarn bag are very portable (though bulky) so I can hook out and about at coffee shops or the library or a brewery if there's enough space and light.

Hooking in the wild makes me an ambassador for making things in general and rug hooking in particular. I answer people's questions and always emphasize how relatively easy it is to get started hooking. Sometimes I get anxious that other people will hook rugs that look like mine but better, but I think that working in a traditional medium means you should share your knowledge for the good of the craft.

[keisobe]

── ౨ৎ ‧˚ 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 (𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧)

・⸝⸝ some hobie brown headcanons where you’re the complete opposite of him + not completely proofread

notes. this was inspired by the anon who requested for “polar opposites” (i’m still working on that request TT). i’m a sucker for couples with different aesthetics because it reminds me of hachi and nana hshshddh ♡

you guys share an apartment together, and the contrast between your guy’s decor can be laughable. hobie has crumbled newspaper cutouts and band posters sprawled all over his walls— graffiti to roughen it up even more. while you had a dainty wallpaper with printed flowers, topped with assortments of neatly lined photos of you and hobie taken during your dates.

that’s why the living room in your apartment is completely bare. except for some framed photos of more cute memories and the dried flowers that hobie (stole) bought you on your first date. mostly, the trinkets you both own are scattered around the apartment.

hobie would be pouring cereal into a pink, bunny ceramic bowl. while you drink raspberry tea in a ridged mauve mug with the words ‘fuck capitalism’ written in hobie’s scratchy handwriting. and yes, you did take hobie to a pottery class as a cool date idea (he thought it was a cute idea too).

hobie always wears a copious amount of studded leather belts but also, your plush keychain(s) securely clipped onto his belt loops. hobie loves to show them off whenever he’s out with his bandmates— “ain’t it a lil’ cute? ‘s even got a lil’ blush on ‘s cheeks.” and that doesn’t limit him during his nightly patrols, he would get a few insults about having a ‘stupid toy’ on his belt, to which he would punch the daylights out of them and trap them in a thick layer of web.

you also proudly accessorize your bags with hobie’s handmade keychains. your favorite was a little replica of his guitar and a pink star that “represents you”. but because they are personally made, he would leave song lyrics and flirty comments written in the back of each keychain— marking the date when he gifted it to you.

going shopping with hobie was also lots of fun. there was a nearby boutique that you always shop at; selling exclusively skirts and dresses adorned with frills and bows, and hair accessories that are covered in pearls and ribbon (he honestly sticks out like a sore thumb but he couldn’t care less). hobie helps you pick out stuff, taking clothes off the rack and asking you to try it on. he compliments you every time you show off, giving you a little twirl and whispering a suggestive comment that makes you slap his chest. if you decide that you weren’t particularly fond of the outfit, hobie would go out of his way to put away said clothes back into its rack whilst having a good chat with the shop owners (they love him to bits).

one time, you decided it would be fun to wear some of his stuff. putting on a studded leather choker he left on his bedside table, you walked out with your chin held high and a grin so big. immediately, hobie felt like he combusted five times and went over to graze a hand over your leathered neck— “you’re an absolute looka’ babe.”

whenever you guys are out, he would always keep an eye out for your skirt. not in a weird way, but to make sure it doesn’t show private bits that would entertain creeps that would pass by. that’s why he would subconsciously linger his hand on your hips and he would always let you sit in the subway train, amusingly eyeing down at you drawing whilst he holds onto the upper railing— guarding you with his solid frame.

you’re a real sucker for british dating shows. it wasn’t like you believed in them, but found them heavily entertaining. hobie had always been fond of the things you like, even though they completely contrasted his personal aesthetic and interest. but he cannot, for the life of him, agree with dating shows. as you snuggled into him and share a fluffy blanket— watching the latest season of said dating show, he would cackle as he gives snarky comments at every moment and heavily criticize the whole concept of “making yourself look li’ a knob on the telly” (you sent him to his room afterwards, he apologized the morning after).

MOCHIFILM © 2023. please do not copy, translate, or modify any of my work. all of my works are not permitted to be posted on any other sites.

[mightybeewrites]

Child of the Bat

Yandere! Batfamily x Neglected! Reader

Chapter: 3

First, prev, next

Synopsis: you and your mystery horror author mother moved to Gotham for a fresh new start. At first you hated the idea of moving. You wanted to stay in Georgia with all of your friends and all of the familiar faces but soon you had to say goodbye. A few months into your new Gothamite life—disaster struck and your mother died. It was revealed that you’re also Bruce Wayne’s bio child. And so you moved in with him and his sea of children. Will you survive this new change in your life? Or will you succumb to the pressures of Gotham and its corruption?

A/N: When I describe what clothing you wear, you can imagine smth else :3

———————

Meeting Damian Wayne was… puzzling. It was as if you two were looking into a mirror. What Alfred told you about Damian was that, he was just a few years older than you and that he is awfully serious but has a good heart. It would be a lie to say you wasn’t nervous.

------

Waking up to a big room was still something to get use to. The bed felt like a million clouds wrapped together with a red silk string. Your eyes took a minute to open. And your body took even more time to get out of bed. Once you did, you stepped out of bed and got ready for the day then stepped out into the hallway. You walked and walked. Soon, the creepy hallway filled with dust and cob webs and spiders, turned into lavender scented rugs, the head statutes without any dust, and and glossy wooden floors.

Alfred said that the estate will become more chaotic once everyone comes home.

You walked down the stairs dressed in baggy pants and a punk t shirt, with some eyeliner and a little lip gloss. Some braids were over your shoulders while the rest was down your back. Just as you was about to go look for Alfred—to hopefully help him with cleaning or just to hang out with him, the front door opened to reveal a taller guy. The first thing you noticed were his piercing green eyes and arched eyebrows.

It was as if the world had stopped.

A lump was caught in your throat as you stared at the tall boy. His dark brown hair was short.

“You must be the new girl Alfred mentioned.”

You said nothing but nodded.

He stepped inside the manor, hand gripped on the strap of his bag. Green eyes never left your form. You didn’t dare look away either. His expression was unreadable—which made you shift a bit on your feet. Your blue eyes started to search his face—he had brown skin like yours with dark hair pulled back. He wore a deep red dress shirt with dark pants. Wherever he shopped at, it felt as if he just called you poor in 56 different languages.

He simply tilted his head to the side—“it seems father’s genes are superior… don’t you think?”

Your arched eyebrows twitched a bit as your gaze hits the floor. “um...I am not sure. I… suppose. I’m-“

“-Y/N. I’m aware of that already. Welcome to Wayne Manor.”

And with that, Damian Wayne walked past you—up the stairs and out of sight.

-----

A whole day passed when you met Tim Drake-Wayne. From what you can remember due to Alfred and media, he’s suppose to be very intelligent and would use his money to donate to a lot of charities. Which is pretty impressive.

Though, you didn’t expect to meet him at the unholy time of 3:47 AM. You was hungry. So you went to the kitchen to make yourself a sandwich—only to find Tim eating a grilled cheese with some chips and a tall can of monster on the side.

Despite your footsteps being unusually quiet, the moment you stepped into the kitchen, Tim immediately looked but continued to chew.

His blue eyes scanned your appearance—his expression calculating.

“You look just like him.”

Was the first thing he said. In which you shifted uncomfortably.

Your intense eyes darted, “Alfred told you?”

Tim finished his meal and got up, “No, it doesn’t take too much to know you’re his kid.”

You walked closer to him as he started to clean up his area, “What’s he like? Apart from what the media shows. I’ve been a bit nervous to meet him.”

“Bruce is… complex. I gotta let you know that he’s a very busy man—so you might not see him much.”

Your shoulders slumped—despite the possible good intentions behind your new brother’s words, you don’t know why but it stun a little to hear that. Would he even care when he came back? Would he care about you or look your way? Or would he stare down at you like the gunk on his expensive dress shoes.

Just as he was about to pass you, Tim put a hand on your shoulder which made you look up. Your blue eyes boring into his—your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to why he was touching you.

“My condolences…by the way.”

You blinked multiple times before your gazed lowered.

“…. Thanks..” your voice was small. Your throat burned and you forced yourself to hold it all back. Your shoulders trembled and shook, your fists were tight.

Your gaze was met with a box of tissues. You didn’t notice at first but your new brother offered you tissues.

You didn’t dare look at his face, you kept thinking he was pitying you.

“… I know what it’s like. To lose your parent… it’s.. not very good.”

“It hurts…” your voice was quiet.

“I know…”

“I… hate it.” Your soft voice turnt harsh.

“… I know.”

“I want to make him pay.” You muttered to himself.

Tim didn’t say anything after that. He didn’t have time to. He watched you take the box of tissues, muttered a thanks and walked away, up the stairs back to your room at the far ends of the manor.

Tim bit the inside of his cheek as his eyes went off to the side—squinting, scheming, thinking.

“… she really is like him.”

[strange-aeons]

I've seen adverts for products from the Tumblr shop on my dash. you've never mentioned anything about the tumblr shop in your etiquette video, so please do share, what is tumblrs attitude towards Tumblr shop?

I don’t want to claim that this is a site-wide consensus since I’m sure some will disagree, but my personal opinion and one I’ve seen echoed numerous times is that we would rather directly financially support Tumblr through merch, blaze, check marks and crabs, etc, than to have more ads shoved down our throats. Tumblr needs money to exist and it I commend it for trying to raise that money in the least slimy way possible. Especially when the norm among social media sites is. Um. Bad.

I own a tote bag, a shirt, and shoelaces from the Tumblr shop and subscribe to the paid ad-free version. I like supporting my favourite silly webbed site :)

[woodrocko]

“You’re the Star of the Show!”

[magicalshopping]

♡ Spiderweb Heart Bag ♡

[webdiggerxxx]

꧁★꧂

[amarynthian-chronicles]

A Game of Light and Shadows

Sebastian Solace x Reader

Simple pleasures had become a luxury for him a long while ago. Something as simple as lighting a cigarette, relishing the rush it gave to his tormented mind, the flickering flame of his golden lighter creating a playful display of shadows on the walls.

He took a long drag, enjoying the peace of his own company. A semblance of normalcy.

Sebastian was balancing a book in his other hand, his esca glowing enough for him to read. The pages were not in an enviable condition, having survived various disasters before haphazardly ending up in his little makeshift shop. "The Count of Monte Cristo". How ironic. How fitting.

Perhaps it offered a distorted form of comfort. A fragile hope that the wrongfully accused hero could indeed escape his prison and reclaim his destiny. A spark in darkness. And yet, cruel fate had made him unable to withstand proper light. Was he truly condemned to the underworld forever?

A familiar noise in the corner of the room. Sebastian had become so accustomed to your little "visits". His darling little nuisance, his silly little spark, haunting him in the depths.

You stood there in the penumbra, a sly smile gracing your features.

Your inexperience had transformed into skill, your fear morphing into bitter courage. You had become so confident, so strong. He had made you into such a magnificent creature, all according to his design and his plans. He would have you one day.

"Low on supplies, babes? You know the rules, take what you need and leave the required payment. Forgive me for not being a gracious host today."

"Actually, I am here to offer you a gift. Something to thank you for being my guardian angel."

"Is that so? There is no such things as gifts, babes. What do you want?"

You simply approached him, holding up a little bag for him to see. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to perform whatever trick you had in store. To his surprise, you produced a little package of ground coffee and two mugs.

"I did notice you have a water boiler here, so I was thinking that maybe we could enjoy something nice and warm together. How does that sound?"

So silly. The hopeful spark in your eyes, the sweet tone of your voice. Even after all the hardships you had endured, and all the changes you had undergone in order to survive into a proper warrior, that tiny bit of whimsy remained. Sebastian could not help but grin, tapping the ash from his cigarette into a nearby tray.

"Despair is a terrible thing, you know. It makes you seek the company of monsters. Loneliness pushes you into the arms any wicked creature in the vicinity, just to feel some sort of comfort."

"Oh, come on, Seb. Don't be so dramatic and have some coffee with me. Is it so outrageous that I simply wish to be your friend? Please? Just a little cup of coffee with me? You can show me what you are reading, as well."

Sweetling, creature of daylight. If moths were attracted to the light, were butterflies attracted to darkness? Perhaps he should indulge your request. It would be one step closer to his web, having your loyalty at his disposal.

He finished his cigarette and placed the book down, taking your bag. A few minutes later, his lair had the scent of freshly brewed coffee permeating the air. How domestic, how lovely. Perhaps, when all was over, he could make this bliss a reality with you. He could build a home with you.

You made a happy hum as you slowly sipped on the warm drink. It did wonders for the senses, awakening and sharpening them. You were about to compliment Sebastian's coffee-making skills, but you suddenly felt a pair of strong arms pull you upwards onto his lap. You felt warmth in your cheeks as Sebastian placed a clawed finger under your chin.

"Now, babes, how about we do some reading together, hm?"

He reached for his book once more and adjusted his position, making sure to continue having his arms around you. You made yourself comfortable, listening to his soft purrs, embraced by his soft darkness. A gentle kiss was placed on your cheek and your neck. You were happy.

[happywebdesign]

Baggu