embroidered sayings

American Denim: A New Folk Art

Before we get to the book review, please be aware that some images contain nudity–there’s butt, boobs, and one embroidered bush, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.

American Denim: A New Folk Art

Somebody actually cut a picture of a jacket pocket into the shape of a pair of pants.  1975, folks.

Right away, you can see why I had to show you this book.

Most of the stuff inside inspired three thoughts, in this order:

  1. That’s really ugly.
  2. That must have taken forever.
  3. I bet you can’t wash that.

Here are some highlights:

Our young model will be all the rage at punk shows, with her pants covered in sequins and zippers.  The macrame necklace is a nice touch.

The horror so horrid, they show it to you twice: a shirt covered in hands.  But just the sleeves and shoulders.

This artist saw Manos: The Hands of Fate and said, “Yeah, but what IF..”

These pants are apparently based on the garden of Eden.  I do not know what is going on with that tree on the ass of the jeans.

This is a front panel on a denim jacket.  There’s a similar lady on the other side.  Do you think someone once wore this in public, with pride?

Here we have pants made out of tiny pieces, because apparently pants that fell apart as soon as you stuck your leg in them were an artistic statement.

There are a lot of ass shots in this book.  This is the best one, though.

Dinosaur ass!

This poor model has grown barnacles.  They are awaiting scraping.

And lastly, tits surrounded by raw meat.  I guess that’s an iron-on?  But, just.. why?

This book is absurdly expensive on Amazon, your best bet if you need more terrifying weirdness is a library sale or something.

‘I’m a cute psycho killer, isn’t it obvious?’ x Dan Howell

Originally posted by heykeykey

yes, this is a halloween one shot, YES I KNOW IT’S ONLY SEPTEMBER LEAVE ME ALONE. anyway, enjoy xx (side note : Y/F/N = your friend’s name)


You never were a big fan of dress up parties, especially when they were Halloween themed. All the fake blood, open gushing wounds and other way too explicit make-up just made you nauseous. And all the people who decided to be an absolute douche and dress up as a killer clown, didn’t make it any better.
But, you never had a choice when it came to whether you’d go or not go to a party. Your best friend, [Y/F/N], just knocked on your door, basically threw an outfit in your face, and dragged you along. (That was one of the reasons you always made sure your phone was on full battery in the evening in the weekends.)
Tonight was yet another one of those nights. [Y/F/N] had texted you, saying she would be at your apartment in ten minutes to pick you up for some Halloween party somewhere on the other side of London.
And now you had to improvise some sort of Halloween attire. Something that wasn’t too obvious, since you weren’t really about going all out with costumes. So you decided on wearing simple jeans, some boots and a shirt that had an embroidered text on it, saying ‘cute but psycho’. A small bow clip in your hair and some plastic knife with red stains made your outfit complete. But when you saw [Y/F/N]’s outfit, you immediately felt quit underdressed.
‘Oh, c’mon, [Y/N],’ she sighed, rolling her eyes that looked plain white because of the contacts she was wearing. ‘Couldn’t you try a little harder?’
I raised the knife I was holding in my hands, grinning sheepishly. ‘You know I’m not that into Halloween.’ I shrugged, and then looked, a bit disturbed, at the fake blood that covered half of [Y/F/N]’s face. ‘The only thing I like about it is that I can watch ‘Nightmare before Christmas’.’
‘I really don’t get why we are friends,’ [Y/F/N] sighed, but then smiled, which looked really upsetting because of her ripped mouth. ‘Let’s just go, maybe I can convince you to get some fake blood here and there.’
‘Not going to happen.’ You smiled at her, taking your phone and keys, and following her outside.

You had no clue how someone got away with a house party in a London suburb, but they had made it happen. Loads of people were dressed from head to toe, fake blood was seen on almost every visible body part, and there was a wide range of creepy masks. And, of course, those damn killer clowns. You suddenly wished you had brought a real knife, just to feel a bit safer around the pale faced and red painted lips demons. And the pounding music that seemed to raise your heartbeat even more, didn’t quit help with the whole situation.
So, you quickly followed [Y/F/N] inside, avoiding eye contact with everyone while clinging tightly onto your plastic knife, that felt really stupid compared to the really realistic looking torture instruments.
Why couldn’t people just dress up as cats and pumpkins like in the good old days?
The music only got louder as you got closer to the house, and it seemed almost unbearable once you were inside. But you couldn’t tell if it was really the music, or the nauseous making smell and creepy faces staring at you. (Or that was what they did in your imagination. In reality, they were all laughing, drinking, and dancing. An odd combination with the masks and make-up.)
[Y/F/N] handed you a blue cup, smiling.
‘Drink up, I know how nervous you are. And don’t worry, I’m not drinking so we’ll get home safely.’
You smiled thankfully at her and took a careful sip, glad that it was one of your favorite drinks.
‘I’m going to say hi to some people, you’ll be okay?’
You just nodded and smiled again. You’d became pretty good at being alone at parties this big. But this was better than to tag alone with [Y/F/N] and have to go through all the awkward introductions. And she knew you preferred staying behind.
With a quick wave, she disappeared in the crowd of dancing costumes. You found a good spot in the kitchen, right next to the snack table, where the music wasn’t too loud. And you didn’t seem to be the only person that was searching for company in food.
He was awkwardly shoving a handful of crisps into his mouth, when you made eye contact. He looked to say at least horrified that I had ‘busted’ him, and wanted to say something, but when he opened up his mouth, half of the crisps fell out his mouth again. You tried really hard to not laugh at him, but it was kinda hard not to.
‘I’m sorry,’ you said, apologizing for laughing at his awkward moment.
He quickly munched away at the remaining crisps, while walking over to you.
‘That’s okay. Guess we’re in this together huh?’ He grinned, pointing at his ‘outfit’. He was wearing a black jeans, along with a black, long sleeved shirt.
‘Are you dressed as an emo kid?’ You frowned, looking at his hair that clearly once used to be a fringe.
‘I guess,’ he shrugged. ‘And you are?’
‘A cute psycho killer, duh.’ You said, dangerously swinging your plastic knife around, while pointing at your bow in your hair.
‘Obviously,’ he chuckled. ‘Hi, I’m Dan, the emo kid. And what is your name, cute psycho killer?’
‘[Y/N],’ you smiled. ‘What’s your excuse for not wearing a costume?’
‘Partly didn’t get the memo it was supposed to be a dress up kinda thing. Kinda played video games until the last minute and got too lazy to put on something else. You?’ Dan smiled, rolling up his sleeves ‘till they reached his elbows, leaving some left over crumbs of the crisps on his sleeves.
‘I don’t really like Halloween.’
‘What?!’ Dan said, gasping dramatically. ‘But the Spooky Season is the best season! I’m sorry, but we really can’t be friends.’
‘Spooky Season?’ You laughed. ‘That sounds way cuter than Halloween really is. I mean, look at the people around you. They all look like they are murdered, or are about to murder someone. That’s not spooky anymore. That’s straight up psycho.’
‘Says the girl dressed as a ‘cute psycho’.’ Dan grinned, pointing at my bow.
‘Damn, you got me there.’ You laughed.
‘Anyway, if you hate Halloween, why are you here?’
‘Because my best friend basically drags me to every party. I know what you’re thinking, what a cruel friend, but otherwise she’d go alone, so I’d rather go with her so at least I’m here if she does something stupid.’
‘That’s actually really nice of you, … For a psycho killer.’ Dan added, laughing.
You just roll your eyes and take a big sip of your drink.
‘It doesn’t look like you’re having the best time either.’ You raised an eyebrow at him, and quickly glanced at the dancing crowd, to see if [Y/F/N] had returned yet.
‘Once again, kinda in the same situation.’ Dan smiled, and then looked behind him when someone shouted his name. ‘It looks like my friend is ready to go. But hey, give me your number. Maybe I could convince you that Spooky Season in fact is very fun.’
‘I’d doubt you could do that, Dan, but I’m willing to give you a chance.’ You laughed, motioning him to give you his phone so you could add your number.
‘I’ll text you,’ Dan said, winking and snapping his fingers at you, in an obvious ironically way, making you laugh. ‘Don’t kill to many people, cute psycho.’
‘And you don’t cry too much over My Chemical Romance. Watch out, or I will play that one note.’
‘Nice one,’ Dan laughed, going for another grab in the crisps bowl, waving with his other hand, while walking away. And of course, he stumbled against someone, spilling all the crisps on the floor.
You chuckled, while he looked back at you, hoping as if you wouldn’t have seen it. He shrugged and then quickly walked out of the house.
‘Hey! You okay?’ [Y/F/N] stood suddenly in front of you, smiling.
‘Yeah, I’m okay.’ You smiled back at her.
‘What happened?’ She asked, looking suspiciously at you.
‘Nothing special.’ But you couldn’t stop smiling for some silly reason. And when you felt your phone violently vibrating in your pocket, that smile was there to stay. Maybe ‘Spooky Season’ wasn’t that bad after all. If you’d count out the creepy clowns, bloody make-up and masks, and kept in the awkward, tall, emo guys.

As a whole the doll hobby has a huge problem with addressing issues that are NORMALLY addressed in other hobbies and fandoms. This issue in particular? Respect for the artists.

Would somebody comment on a newly embroidered cushion saying “this is awful I hate the green”? No. No they wouldn’t. On a newly glazed vase? Also no.

Would somebody comment on a newly painted doll saying they thought the hair was ugly and the doll didn’t have sass? Yes. They would and they do.

And I think the issue lies with the fact that people who engage with embroidery or pottery on a hobbyist level are undoubtably embroidering or spinning pots themselves. But dolls? Not all people who collect dolls and engage with doll artists are themselves artists. And that’s the fundamental issue.

And why as a hobby do we not discuss this? Because we are terrified of being called elitist. Well the time has come for doll artists to be granted the same respect as artists in other hobbies and for people to realise they can’t demand a custom doll of something and that their consumption of and opinion on OTHERS work isn’t important. And for those that would cry “elitist” to realise that an artist does not owe them anything.

anonymous asked:

hey yo you should totally draw the Hamilton pep in the diner you know do 'in what they usually do like the stuff you said like john spill 'in drinks on lee or hammy boy scoot 'in around on them roller blades. like a pic of daily routine. please and thank you. o

Two local employees slack off
(John just is washing the same table over and over to stare at Lee and Herc is “promoting” business by talking to Laf)


Also a new dress! (Alexander embroidered it himself it says “turn up the jukebox”)

little “actual living 17-year-old gabe goodman” things

  • Sad Chronically Ill Gay 
  • have used “let’s have a chatalie, natalie” on his sister on several occasions
  • literally stoned all the time
  • cries at the beginning of oliver and company
  • bipolar af and makes constant jokes about it/would have an embroidered pillow that says ‘hurt all 3 of my feelings” if he could 
  • really?? just really likes the doors
  • made out with henry once before henry and natalie got together
  • basically wallace from scott pilgrim tbh
  • puts his cold hands on ppl
  • loves cats
  • that one post that is someone with sunglasses on like “life is bad my man”
  • collects guitar picks and stuffed animals
  • failed a grade so is in all of natalie’s classes, to her great disappointment
  • literally just slept on the floor in the middle of english once
  • meme loving fuck

add ur own

Yesterday it snowed, and my boss wasn’t at work, and I was given ice cream cake, and the system glitched for an hour which I didn’t realize till halfway through due to severe Zoning Out Syndrome, and I got to hangout with Bekah and Kait, and eat tacos, and gluten free brownies, and drink wine, and cry a little, and swipe for each other, and watch a bunch of Haim videos, and it was very nice.


Today I don’t plan to leave my house. So far I’ve made banana chocolate chip pancakes, and have a facemask on. Later I plan to read, embroider some shirts that say “girl gang” for the Beckahs, Kait and I, and veg out, and just be cozy.

celestriakle  asked:

So I'm creating a fantasy world with countries that don't have a real-world analogue and are all racially diverse, and I'm having some trouble. In choosing the characteristic fashions for my countries, I'm hesitant to popularize anything that may resemble specific nonwestern clothes; I don't want to include a character in a heavily embroidered colourful wrap, for example, and have people read it as a sari and go "ah yes the Indian country" when no. (1/2)

But I’m not sure if having mostly more western/“globalized” styles (things like jeans and a t-shirt) is the better route. (2/2)

Fantasy World and Non-Western Clothes

This is a fantasy world, and it sounds like secondary world fantasy, so disconnected from our world.  Thus the word “sari,” with its specific development and history is unlikely to exist there.  So while your inspiration for the garment might have come from a sari, think about how you might describe it without using the word “sari.”  Above you say “heavily embroidered colourful wrap.”  To me, that could describe a sari, but also a caftan, a dashiki, or a sarong.  You could give more details—if I wanted to specifically describe a sari, I might say “unstitched cloth around her waist, up over her shoulder, and tied off like a skirt at one hip.”  I see that as pretty unambiguously a sari but I don’t know what my readers may interpret it as.  Maybe they’ve never seen a sari before.  Maybe they have but don’t know what it’s called.  Maybe that better describes another garment to them.  You have limited control over what your readers will interpret from your writing, no matter how specific you are.

Why then, would you consider this, but then revert to giving an entire world one dominant style? You’re right, putting everyone in jeans and a T-shirt (or the equivalent) isn’t the better route.  It’s quite an anti-diverse mindset.  That particular style is dominant in our world for various historical and cultural reasons, but unless your world has a similarly explicated fashion history, it comes off as under-thinking the worldwide diversity of clothing, or as avoiding the question because it’s hard.  There’s been an extraordinary diversity of clothing styles through world history and there still is, even though jeans and T-shirts seem to be dominant and ever-popular these days (I’m wearing jeans a T-shirt right now).  You should make an effort to show this.  Just be creative with your descriptions and worry less about how it’s seems to be coded than with making sure that the clothing style emerges naturally from the rest of the culture, climate, and economy.  For example, no midriff-bearing blouses in subarctic climates.  No animal furs in the tropics.  No linen garments for the lower classes in regions where you can’t easily grow flax.  Dyes are expensive, so the clothing of rich people are likely to have bolder colors and more patterning.  Cultures with a religion that emphasizes modesty are likely to cover up more no matter what the weather.

And what’s wrong with colorful drapery anyway?  Who cares if your readers interpret it as a sari?

~Mod Nikhil

More of My Dumb Headcanons Because Why the Hell Not

Even though this train of thought is as old as time…

Lady Inquisitors and the Orlesian Ball.

Inquisitor Trevelyan frowning into a looking glass at herself, because she can’t believe she’s being forced into a dress again after all her time spent escaping her noble obligations. She feels like she’s wearing someone else’s skin.

Warrior Trevelyan refusing to even wear a bloody dress, showing up to the ball in plain armor or leathers instead. The scandalized looks on the nobles’ faces are worth the scolding she gets from Josephine later. Her stunt still manages to impress a good many people, even.

Rogue Trevelyan sewing knives into the inner seams of her skirt, hiding pills of poison in the weave of her necklace, wearing the sharpest, highest-heeled shoes she can find, looking impeccably gorgeous, smiling at the other guests with predatory intensity. She wants all of them to know that she’s a dangerous woman, to see the rouge on her lips as blood.

Mage Trevelyan fingering the embroidery on the bodice of her dress, unable to keep herself from admiring how fine it is. At the ball, she tries to focus on the pattern of grape vines running up her sleeves instead of the gawking and suspicious stares of the nobility.

Inquisitor Adaar wearing her gown with dignity and grace, looking marvelously statuesque, shocking the other guests into awed silence. Leliana smiles quietly because she recalls the past week of Adaar hobbling back and forth in her quarters, under her supervision, attempting to learn how to walk properly in fine shoes.

Warrior Adaar feeling awkward in the light, soft fabric of her dress, saying she feels naked without any armor on and asking if she can at least wear some pants. When Iron Bull cracks a joke about teaching her to tell the difference between wearing a dress and being naked, Adaar kicks his ass without mercy.

Rogue Adaar wearing a fine doublet and breeches, leading in every dance, making men and women alike blush with her easy smile and husky laughter. Later, she and Sera count up how much each of them managed to pilfer from noble pockets over drinks. Sera insists she won by at least a sovereign based on her jewelry haul. Iron Bull nearly passes out laughing when Adaar holds up a crumpled, perfumed bodice embroidered with gems and says “No, I think I won. Didn’t even have to steal it.”

Mage Adaar not being able to shut up about how beautiful everything is, nearly swooning over her dress and shoes, gasping when she sees the ballroom for the first time, begging Josephine to teach her how to dance. She is so excited by the whole affair that she doesn’t even notice the odd looks she gets when she’s dancing and laughing with her companions, or pay any mind to the condescending smiles and snide, backhanded compliments of the nobles.

Inquisitor Lavellan hating every second leading up to the ball, feeling prodded and painted and positioned like a doll on display. Once there, she plays her part, swallowing her bile at their condescension and smiling passively until her face threatens to crack. Afterward, she rubs her face practically raw washing off the thin layer of makeup Josephine helped her apply. This just isn’t her game.

Warrior Lavellan dressed in full, shining ceremonial armor. She smiles and speaks to every elven servant who passes by with a look of awe and wonder on their face.

Rogue Lavellan dancing with their companions, remarkably light on their feet, enjoying themselves in spite of everything because at least in this they can pretend the footwork is like navigating through thick forests and tangled, moss-covered roots.

Mage Lavellan discreetly setting a noble’s crotch on fire for grabbing a passing elven servant’s ass. She swears to Vivienne when she angrily asks what happened that she had nothing to do with it, it must have been the candles on the serving table in front of him, they must have been too close to the edge. Lavellan and Sera break into giggles as soon as Vivienne leaves the room.

Inquisitor Cadash laughing at Josephine’s offer to help her put together her costume for the evening. “I know what works,” she says. “You don’t get very far as a Cadash if you don’t know how to clean up nicely and speak like your tongue is dripping honey and gold.”

Warrior Cadash wearing heels on a bet. She ends up ditching them and the ball halfway through and running off with Sera for drinks instead.

Rogue Cadash charming everyone in the room, smiling and laughing, looking strikingly beautiful. By the time the ball is over the Inquisition’s treasury has somehow doubled, and its army just got four troops larger.

thanksihateyou  asked:

WAIT BUT THE BOX

KP’s Gift Box

  • $10 in ones rolled and wrapped up in a cigarette container 
  • One of KP’s sweaters
  • A pair of warm socks with memories
  • 2 new pins for my jacket
  • A notebook with beautiful notes written in them

Anges’ Gift Box

  • 1 Moon ring 
  • 2 embroidered shirts (One that says Where Dwell The Brave At Heart, and the other says What’s Life Without A Little Risk?)
  • A card that says “Hapee B’rthdae Andy”
  • A long letter that was beautifully written

anonymous asked:

I cried for the first time in two years at school and today's sucks do you have anything fluffy and cute ??:)

[Aww, sad anons. I hope your days get better soon! Here is a fluffy Sterek fic, based on this photo. A Project Runway AU.]

Stiles shifts on his feet nervously as Tim Gunn looks over his work in progress for the latest challenge. “I’m impressed,” Tim says in a clipped tone, leaning back, and Stiles breathes a sigh of happy relief. “You know, if you win this round, the prize is that R Fashions will run a small line of your work,” Tim says. “You might want to work on a product label.”

“Okay, I can do that,” Stiles says, even though he has absolutely no idea what he would call his line. 

As soon as Tim walks away to criticize Jackson’s work (haha), Scott walks over to him and gives him a high five. “Dude! Did he say he liked your jacket?” Scott asks.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, touching the intricate hand-beaded pattern on his latest piece. “I really like yours, though, I think you’re gonna win, Tim totally made his not-a-smile-but-I’m-smiling face for you,” Stiles says, nodding towards Scott’s masterpiece.

Scott nudges his shoulder playfully. “Rooting for both of us to make it to the next round. Whatever happens we’ll be cool, right?”

“Duh,” Stiles says, sticking his tongue out. He expected a lot of cutthroat competition (which there’s plenty of), but making a real friend in Scott is one of the best things about this reality show gig so far. 

Tim Gunn claps his hands together. “Alright, models coming in for their final fitting, make it work, everyone!”

And here’s one of the other best things.

The models file into the workroom, one by one, and just start stripping down for their outfits to be fitted, and luckily Stiles remembers to take the pins out of his mouth before he repeats last week’s bloody lip incident.

“Hey, Stiles, this looks good,” Derek says, eyeing the jacket, shirt and pants combo Stiles has laid out. He reaches out to touch the beading, and Stiles slaps his wrist away.

“That bit isn’t quite done, it’s very delicate, okay. I still need to go over it and embroider this edge,” Stiles says sharply.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Okay, I take it back, it looks horrible,” he says, taunting, and Stiles resists the urge to get into it again and pretend to argue with Derek (it’s fun, alright, and Stiles needs an outlet for his sexual frustration) because there’s only one hour left and he really wants to do well.

Derek shrugs out of his shirt, and then there go the pants, and Derek’s butt is just there, and Stiles has to be very careful about helping Derek into this outfit.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

How are you celebrating the end of the hell year

Ordering a custom embroidered hat that says “I had sex three times this year”

cheesemastergus  asked:

I feel like you ought to be the official representative of Feminist Bald Eagles at this point. Another line for your resume.

I want a damn embroidered patch that says Feminist Bald Eagle with a bad ass design that I will put on my cool guy jacket.

I know there are a ton of good artists following me. Who wants to design said patch?

Something like what the DEA has, you know?