#embroidered logo patches

[zilluzion]

a fun little logo perhaps? it me! i am the cosy bunny!

this was also a merch design experiment, but also works well in standalone i think?? either way, you can get it on a mug! and an embroidered patch! woaa!

[legendlarkpod]

I'm doing a project and I need an answer from our

✨️Fabulous✨️

DM KATHERINE

What's your favorite color?

Ok it sounds so goddamn bougie but

Tiffany Blue

As a very anti-brand person, please know that I'm devastated that a luxury goods company has trademarked the specific shade of blue that I like best

[freshthoughts2020]

[alvie-pines]

fyi punk should be diy. if any of my followers wanna dress punk but feel like they cant because its expensive, here's the secret: a good punk look can and should be made out of literal junk. old bottle caps, safety pins. i recently asked my sister if she'd give me some spare key rings so i could join them up with mine and make a longer chain (its attached to my favorite pair of pants rn). if something doesnt feel shiny and pointy and punk enough, stab it with some safety pins. make your own patches out of spare fabric scraps. cut the logos and patterns off of shirts and turn them into patches. pick up some cheap basic embroidery stuff (thread, needle, bamboo ring, thats all you need--hell you dont even need the ring its just helpful) to sew your patches on & make some of your own. or just embroider right on your clothes! it doesnt have to look good. most real punk patches are self-made with wonky lettering. you can get a good leather jacket, denim jacket, vest, etc at your local thrift store. you can try chains like savers and you can try non-chain shops. (btw thrift shops arent just for clothes, theyre lifesavers in general. i got my favorite table for $15 at savers. its old and ornate with carved designs and shit. please shop at thrift stores theyre the best thing ever.) also, when i was younger i remember i made my own spiky bracelets out of studded ribbon (cheap, get it at joanns or some other fabric or crafts store) and safety pins to hold it together. dont waste money on fucking hot topic. you can make your own shit. thats what punk is all about. i promise anyone judging you for having handmade punk clothes and accessories is a fucking poser.

[transgenderunionthug]

I embroidered this back patch! I combined the designs for the Sabo cat with the IWW logo and embroidered it over the course of the pandemic. It's still my biggest piece of embroidery

[carmenized-onions]

Tony, Terry, Tommy? | Walk-In Hotfix

synopsis; You get an unexpected call from an old friend in need of an emergency repair. Good thing: that's kind of your whole gig. Bad thing: You've been avoiding the Berzatto family for the past year.

tasting notes; hurt comfort? idk man, he's in a fuckin' freezer. this is gonna be a long slow-burn series. We don't use Y/N here and we've got a very preestablished storyline going on babes. Eat up.

portion; 3.1k+

possible allergies; SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS, I've started writing this before Season 3 comes out in June so we're going WAY off canon (unless I'm an oracle), Mikey is gonna be central baby, any tw you require for the bear-- you require for this.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns!)

I have not written fanfiction in 5-6 years and once again some goddamn pretty boy just YOINKS me back in. I'm making up my own season three here so I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants with this series, hopefully it turns out. If it doesn't... C'est la vie, I had fun.

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life—                    Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call from an old friend.

You stare at your screen for what feels like eons but it’s really just a few rings. It’s enough time to frantically search through blankets on your couch for your remote to pause your show— Which might as well be like 10 years of time. You’re heavily debating not answering; what if it’s something heavy? What if a mutual childhood friend died? What if it’s a love or murder confession? What if it’s about the money you owe her? The money she owes you?

Do you really want to take that kind of call? On what’s been a peaceful Friday night? That’s a rarity in your part of Chicago, c’mon. If it’s important, she’ll leave a voicemail... Who are you kidding, she doesn’t leave voicemails— Frankly, it’s bizarre and concerning that she’s calling in the first place instead of spam texting. …Alright, she’s let it get to the fourth ring, she’s probably dead or dying. You need to pick up.

“…Syd?”

She sounds infinitely stressed, but relieved to hear your voice.“Hey, hey, uh—”

There’s a cacophony of yelling, banging, and what you imagine are kitchen noises in the background. Guess she kept to her guns after Sheridan. That’s nice. Or maybe it’s not. Hard to tell.

“Are you good?” She can’t see the concern on your face or your free arm crossing over your waist— But she can imagine it in the worried lilt of your voice.

“Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah— I-I’m good— Well actually, no, I’m not good, that’s why I’m calling. Actually. Sorry. I know it’s been a minute, it’s fucked up to call only when I need something—”

“Syd.”

“Is your dad still a handy-man?”

Ah. Goodbye peaceful Friday night. Hello emergency hotfix services.

You click your teeth, “Oh, no, he retired. Got a case of… Getting fucking old disease.” But a part of you is relieved it’s a thing that’s broken, and not her. This is at least manageable— Whatever it is.

“Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Ha, yeah, my dad’s got that too— Well, okay, then I’ll talk—”

You’re quick to jump in. “I took over the business though. So, if you’re—" “We need help so bad right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at the speed of it, but immediately feel guilty hearing the desperation in it. “Yeah? Who’s we?”

You stick the cellphone in the crux of your neck, already walking across your apartment to throw on your jumpsuit— Dark navy blue, elbow length sleeves, dad’s old logo embroidered on your right breast pocket.

CHICAGO’S KINDEST ⚒ FIXERS & CO. It’s managed to grow on you.

There’s an egregious number of patches ironed or sewn onto the back and shoulders of it. All from businesses you and your father had either worked with or done odd jobs for. A NASCAR jumpsuit, but for nostalgia and small businesses. Something something ‘it all starts with your neighbourhood’. Your dad would say.

Syd continues, she hasn’t changed much. You hear her sharp dicing in the background, the rhythm seems to calm down into an actual flow instead of erratic speed. You figure either the dinner rush is starting to slow down or she’s relieved you’re coming. Who are you being humble for, no shot it’s the former.

“So, you know how I’m like— Like a chef and shit?”

 You hum the affirmative, putting her on speakerphone so you can pull out your tool kit with both hands.

“So like, I actually co-own this restaurant opening tonight.”

“Oh nice!”

“Yeah— Yeah, yeah, it’s really nice, but actually, it’s not, because it’s bad.”

“In the way I can fix?”

“In the way you can fix, yeah. Hopefully.”

“What’s the damage?”

“So, my co-owner uh, Carmen, he got locked in the walk-in. Like trapped.”

You take a beat, a confused one. Half-stepping, almost tripping. You stare at your tools, picking out what you’ll actually need for this— How the fuck— “How is he trapped in the walk-in?”

“So, he meant to call to get it fixed—” “And he didn’t?” “And he didn’t.”

“What was broke about it in the first place?”

“The doorknob on the inside, broke off. And right now, or, more like, 5 minutes ago, the handle on the outside broke off too.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

“Do you have the outside handle, still?”

“Yeah. Yeah, laying around somewhere— It snapped off though, like—”

“Clean?”

“Uh…. Y’know, I would check, but I’m actually kinda—"

“Can we run table 36, please, Chefs?!” Now that’s an uncomfortably familiar voice.

“Yes, Chef! …I’m kinda busy.”

“Right. Restaurant. Oh, what fucking restaurant? You said Carmen, that’s that fuckin’ Michelin guy, right?” Berzatto. It has to be. The smallness of this world is a personal prank on you.

“…How do you know that?” Son of a bitch.

“…I try to remember what you like.” It’s a good save, but that was too intimate for 3 years of no contact besides Happy Birthday texts, fuck fuck, recover— “Ahem, uh, Restaurant?”

“The Bear. Formerly The Beef. You do still live in Chicago, right?”

Berzatto. Confirmed. Bleh.

“Fortunate for you, I do. I know The Beef, I’m not far, I’ll be there in ten. Tell him to not have a panic attack, if you get a minute.”

“I will not get a minute. But I love the dream.”

And you’re off. Jumpsuit half zipped over what was supposed to be a sleep shirt but is now posthumously a work shirt. Nobody has to know you’re wearing pajama shorts under this. Carhartt jacket thrown over your shoulders— Your dad’s, so, a bit oversized. Toolbox in hand, utility belt on— Though you’re mildly sure if your hypothesis is right, you will only need your threateningly long sledgehammer.

Thank God for your car. CTA would not like you right now.

You pull up front. Oh boy. The sign change is making you feel a type of way that you were not expecting. Pride? Envy? All seven of the deadly sins? Maybe. No time to stew on it because there’s an older woman smoking and having an emotional spat with who you assume is her shivering son out front. So. Definitely going through the back alley instead of getting in the middle of that shit.

Alas, it’s not any better, because there’s Syd, vomiting next to a dumpster.

“Better to ignore or acknowledge you in this moment?” Is the response you decide is best, despite the question, you’re already by her side. You put your tools down (out of the splash zone) and rub her back with one hand, holding back straying braids with the other.

“I couldn’t—” More vomit. “Fuckin’ tell ya.” Syd takes a few deep breathes before standing. She considers going in for a hug, but remembers, the vomit. “Good to see you. I want to catch up, f’real, but—” “The bear in the walk-in?” “The bear in the walk-in.”

You nod, fishing through your pocket. You hand her a mini container of Tums. She waves it off, of course, and you double down, of course, “Who you acting tough for?”

“Fuckin… No one.” She grimaces, taking the box. She makes a show of taking one, like a fussy kid.

You refuse to take it back. “Keep it.”

“Never stopped being the mom friend, eh?”

You laugh, picking up your tools again. “Listen, there’s no telling what the night and your stomach holds. Lead the way?”

The Bear is pretty, or at least the kitchen of it is, so far. It’s clean. Cleaner than it used to be. The death trap walk-in is really the only eyesore for you. You stare at the broken-off handle in your hand, twisting it back and forth to look at all the angles. It’s honestly a pretty clean break.

Sydney’s left to talk to her dad, as she should, and the rest of the kitchen is either too busy to pay you mind or is just silently relieved to see you.

Tina— Who has thankfully opted to not say ‘Hey, good to see you, it’s been a year, what the fuck’—Taps the walk-in door and says to this elusive Michelin Carmen that she’ll be right back, that help’s here. He does not seem to register this at all. She gently slaps your cheek before rushing back to her station, regardless.

“Maybe I’m just not built for this, maybe, maybe that’s okay— Maybe that just is.”

You’ve never said his name to him, it feels heavy on your tongue. “Carmen.”

“Right? What the fuck was I thinking?”

Alright, he’s too far gone. You flag down one of the cooks that are just shadowing for the night. “Hey, can you hold this in place for me?”

You stick the handle into what’s left of the hinge still attached to the door, which is, not much— But hopefully, again, if your hypothesis is correct, it’ll give enough leverage. The cook holds it in place, a little terrified as your sledgehammer comes into view.

“Not gonna hit you, promise.”

“—I’m a fuckin’ psycho. That’s why. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”

You tap (bang) the hammer on the door, enough to stop his train of thought. For a second, at least. “Sweetheart, I need you to stand up for me, Carmen Chef Sir.”

“…Tony?”

“...Who the fuck is Tony?”

The meek cook beside you speaks up, “He means Tommy.”

And Tina is quick to yell from across the kitchen— hearing how? We don’t know. “It’s Terry!”

“I am none of these people.” You sigh, readying the hammer. “Carmen, can you stand up, and just tuck your fingers in the wedge of the door? If there is one?”

“Heard. Yeah.” There’s shuffling from in there, getting into position. Though the steps and the words seem dazed, as he’s forced out of a mental fog. “Here.”

“This isn’t a fix by the way. Your whole door is fucked after this. Not that it isn’t already, but, y’know.” You back up, teeing yourself up before running forward.

“Well, wait—”

You slam the mallet into the tip of the handle perfectly, forcing it way too tight into the gap of the hinge. You push the cook aside with your hip, now using the long handle of the mallet to stick between the knob and the door, using it as further leverage to pull it open. It is incredibly straining.

“Carmy!” Is it okay to say that nickname before you’ve even seen his face? Eh. You’re moving the boulder, he’ll forgive you. “You feel air?!”

“Holy shit— Yeah, yeah— Push?!” “Of course fucking push!”

And it becomes apparent in this exchange of force that this Head Chef must be significantly stronger than you, because it’s opening a lot faster now. Though, fast is a strong word for the snail pace this is happening at. But it’s more than the nothing that was happening a minute ago.

“Aye… Cousin?” Richie, in a… suit? Runs up to you, coming from front of house. He immediately grabs a free spot on the sledgehammer’s handle to help pull. He was shocked to see you doing, well, this, right now, but then upon registering, he’s just shocked to see you. Period.

You can only groan in response, sticking a leg up and putting your foot on the wall as if it’s gonna add meaningful leverage— Oh wait, it kinda is. “Y'clean up good, Rich— Opening going—Fuck— well?”

“Oh yeah, fucking peachy.” He can only manage to wheeze in reply. Investing his strength in yanking rather than reintroductions; thankfully it pays off.

The hinge shoots open, you would have absolutely fallen on your ass if Richie was not ready to stabilize you. The walk-in door cracks open. Just a bit. It’s not dramatic, it’s just a breath.

It’s so anti-climactic that Richie doesn’t mind walking off to cheer before Carmen even comes out. Clapping your back as he does. “That’s what I like to fuckin’ see, Cousin! Ingenuity!”

Though, to be fair, he’s moving to intercept a very sweet looking, worried girl. You look up at her, wheezing as you keel over slightly to catch your breath, hands on your knees. She’s saying something along the lines of ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Is he okay?’ Girlfriend? Probably. Richie seems to be coaxing her accordingly. You turn your head back to the door. Carmen hasn’t come out yet. That’s a red flag. With another wheeze, you stand up right, opening the door further, peeking in.

He's standing there, catatonic. Not looking at you, but straight forward, beyond you. He must’ve been by the door to push it open but now he’s stumbled against the back shelf. Every time his girl’s voice manages to ring into here, his eyes crinkle— Wince. His breath keeps hitching. He looks afraid. It is better to be caged right now than it is to be out there, doing whatever he could be doing, right now. Talking to anyone might be a death sentence, right now.

“I don’t need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I don’t need to receive any amusement or enjoyment. I’m completely fine with that.” He mumbles repeatedly. You can barely hear it over the buzzing of the freezer.

Whispering it just for himself, like some sort of fucked up mantra. Like it’s a state of inner peace to feel this bad. You doubt he even sees you right now.

You know you don’t know Carmy personally. Mostly just through hearsay.

He’s never met or heard of you, that’s for sure.

But you know Berzattos. Or. Knew the one.

And you know a downward spiral. Intimately.

And you know that right now, he’s fucking cold. He is shivering and making no move to leave that state. You think he thinks that’s the state he deserves to stay in.

Nothing to lose but a good first impression, right? You drop a screwdriver in the doorway as a doorstop— Because how fucking dumb would it be if you both got stuck? And. Extremely slowly, you approach him not unlike approaching an actual captive bear. In your eyes, you might as well be.

Standing right in front of him doesn’t stop his mantra. You slip your jacket off, half hugging him to drape it over his shoulders. “You’re just cold.”

“I’m a—” “You’re just. Cold.” You cut him off before he has the chance to self-deprecate again, smoothing out the sleeves on him. His eyes readjust to actually look at you rather than somewhere beyond.

You sniff. You’re already cold and it’s been 30 seconds. This poor thing. You rub your hands together, breathing hot air into them before touching them to his frigid fucking face. “Fuck you’re really cold. Like danger cold.”

Never being one for boundaries or hesitation, you hug yourself to him. It’s the fastest way to warm him up. You slip your hands under the jacket— Your jacket— And just engulf the Italian Popsicle Man before you.

Shockingly, he doesn’t push you off or suddenly reawaken to his senses and tell you to fuck off. He doesn’t flinch, if anything he leans in. His body doesn’t really have time for surprise, right now, it just takes what it needs. And what it needs is warmth and oxytocin. His breathing slowly but surely self regulates, and once you start to remember decorum you lower your arms— But. He opts to place his chin on your shoulder, like the world’s most gentle hook, and that alone is enough to keep you there.

It's a long, silent, liminal spacey moment before he speaks again. Both of you speak just above the decibel of the freezer's buzzing.

“You’re not Tony.”

“Terry.”

“You’re Terry?”

“No, Tina said Tony’s Terry. I don’t know who the fuck Terry is.”

“Terry’s the fridge guy.”

“You’re still going to need to call him; I did just make it worse.”

“That’s fine.” He swallows. “Who called you?”

“Syd.”

“Should’ve called you earlier.”

“Should’ve called the fridge guy earlier.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, but he makes no move to move, so you don’t either.

“You know Mikey too?”

Ah. The patch. The Beef. It's worn, but it sits proudly on the left shoulder of your jumpsuit. Your heart tightens and so does your posture.

“Yeah.” You sigh. It’s shakier than you’d like it to be. “Dad knew him, so then I knew him, so then I occasionally fixed shit for him. Shit that ‘Fak couldn’t?’ I think his name was?”

“Hm.” He hums. “He ever got locked in the walk-in?”

“Yeah, he really fucked it up, like waayy worse than whatever happened with you tonight. Like whatever happened. At least 10 times worse.” Your voice is coated with sarcasm, but it’s not entirely untrue.

You’re relieved, when Carmen laughs at this, a touch maniacally, but it’s something. Right now, any emotion from him besides regret and anxiety feels like a trophy. He straightens up, pushing his hair back, so you remove your arms.

“You’re fuckin’ funny, Tony.”

“Still not Tony.”

“Oh my god!” A blonde, very pregnant woman cracks the door open, relieved. “Are you okay, Bear?” You step aside so she can hug Carmen, holding his cheeks to look over him. Oh, this has to be—

“I’m good, I’m great, Sug.” He says this incredibly unconvincingly, hanging one hand on her wrist.

But what matters more in your brain right now is: That’s Sugar. Natalie.

And now you can put a face to both siblings you’ve been bitched about to.

Chain-smoker, means well, cringeworthy husband, too good for her family, incredibly judgemental, cares too much and worries more, loves to fight, her mother’s daughter, pushy, sticks her foot in her mouth, can’t take no for an answer, would lay down her life. Natalie Berzatto. Little sister.

Michelin Star retaining, big shot, sensitive, definitely a virgin, ball buster, sweats the small stuff, sweetheart, asshole, incredibly smart, flighty, coward, deeply loyal, whiny, screamer, show-off, fantastic drawer, shell, mister new york, annoyingly humble, undeniably the most talented. Carmen Berzatto. Baby brother.

Mikey’s words. Of course.

Nat turns her gaze over to you, “Thank you.” You can only bring yourself to nod in reply, a bit awkward— Lost in your rolodex of memories of the people you’ve never actually met until right now. It’s weird to feel parasocial about a normal person.   

“Our toilet, exploded.” She says.

Now that pulls out you of it, and gets a laugh out of you. You put your hand over your mouth. “Yeah?”

Sugar shakes her head, eyes widening like she’s just stepped in it, “I didn’t mean like— Like, you just did a job, right, that’s like tacking on another last-minute service—”

“That’s fine.” You put a hand up stopping her from continuing, still chuckling. “I’ll take a look at it tonight and try to fix it tomorrow?”

She nods, smiling bright, “Thank you, Tommy.”

Who needs to use Y/N when you have the fridge guy?

I so desperately hope you liked this first chapter. I've been stewing on this for like a week so I beg of you to reply/reblog/send me an ask (anon or not!!) telling me what you thought!! Unless it's mean!! In which case, do NOT!!!

And just a forewarning, as we step into uncharted territory where the walk-in meltdown was cut short, I need you to hold my hand through it bb. We're making this man's life better or we're gonna die trying.

Next Part

[kvroii-arts]

Small project. Embroidered a patch to cover the missing logo plate on this old phone.

[yellowjacketsfashion]

While there are lots of options as to where you can buy a replica of the Yellowjackets Letterman Jacket, they’re not always easily attainable. Last year for halloween I made my own letterman and I figured others could find my process helpful. (The supplies I used were things I already had or were accessible to me but there are other ways to create the same thing. If you have different materials that also work feel free to make suggestions or use them in your process).

HOW TO MAKE A YELLOWJACKETS LETTERMAN JACKET:

Supplies:

• Gold/Navy Letterman jacket

• Printer

• White Printer paper

• Gold Felt

•Chalk

• Heat ‘n Bond

• Embroidery floss in the colors White, Black, Gold and Gray (I ended up needing two packs of white).

• Embroidery needle

• White (or light colored) tissue paper

• White fabric (I used cotton)

• Embroidery hoop

• (Optional) White and Black thread

• Glue stick

Step 1: Aquire your jacket.

You can do a lot of different things for the plain base jacket. I bought mine off Amazon but if wanted too you could probably sew one or buy one second hand etc. The only specification is that it’s Gold and Navy. It is important to do this first because everything else builds off of this step.

Step 2: Print out designs.

Use the photos I provided below and paste them into a word document. From there you can size them up or down to reach the size that you like for printing. The “Yellowjackets” logo is for the back of the jacket so when I did it I kind of split the photo in half and put it on two different pages. In the end it turned out to be just shy of 13 inches length wise. The round patch goes on the front and mine was 4.25 inches in diameter.

Depending on the size of your jacket your patches can be bigger or smaller, but once your happy with the sizing you can then move onto the next step.

Step 3: Gather supplies.

The gold felt is to be used to create the back patch. Because of the size of mine I was able to get a little 50 cent sheet of it (I was able to place the logo at an angle to fit it) but because the patch sizes will be different it’s important to bring your print out of the logo when shopping to make sure you have enough. Most craft / fabric stores should have this in stock. It’s also a good idea to bring your letterman jacket with you to try to color match the shades of gold/yellow as best as possible.

The embroidery hoop, floss, white fabric, and thread are for the front patch as I hand embroidered mine but in theory you could use an embroidery machine or printable fabric sheets to create your patch. If you use these other methods you’ll need different supplies and different instructions that I can’t give.

The Heat ‘n Bond is to iron the patches onto your jacket so they stick (though I’ve had to re iron my back patch because the fibers of the wool make it hard to stick to). It will essentially act as double sided tape.

Step 4: Creating & attaching the back patch

• Cut out a piece of Heat n’ Bond that covers the area where your logo will go.

(i am using colored paper in the example pictures. Yellow represents the felt. White represents the heat and Bond).

• Once you have the right sized piece of Heat n’ Bond, iron it onto the back of your piece of Gold felt (make sure to follow the instructions on the Heat n’ bond packaging).

•Use your printed template of the logo and cut out the words on the felt. You can cut out the logo on paper first and trace it or attach the paper to the felt and just cut them both at the same time. (I moved the dot on the J down so that it’s still attached just to make it easier but you can do whatever you want).

• Put on your Letterman and use the chalk to mark where on the back you want the patch to go. For this step it can be helpful to have someone else assist you (though it’s possible to do it yourself).

• Take off the jacket and lay it flat to align the patch up with your chalk markings. Once it is where you want it you can Iron it onto the back of the jacket (according to the instructions on the Heat n’ Bond).

You now have a finished back patch!

Step 5: Creating the front patch.

• Trace the design of the front patch onto tissue paper (I would suggest a dark pen or sharpie so you can see it really well). If you have trouble seeing the design underneath it can be helpful to hold it to a window pane when it’s sunny or another light source. The photo of the logo I included has a white border around the black words but the patch in the show doesn’t have it so I just ignored it. From there you glue the traced tissue paper onto the fabric.

• Cut out a piece of white fabric big enough for your embroidery hoop and glue the tissue paper sketch onto the fabric.

• Put the fabric/tissue paper into the Embroidery hoop.

• Thread the needle and start embroidering the design. I found it good to use different techniques on different areas of the patch (long white stitches on the wings versus short ones on the background etc. I also thought it was helpful to embroider in color groupings (so like white all at once or yellow all at once etc. so you don’t have to switch out the floss that much). Save the white outer circle and black outline for last though to help clean everything up. The white and black sewing thread can be used to outline smaller details or neaten up some of the floss.

• Once the patch is done cut out a piece of Heat n’ Bond that covers the back of the patch.

• Put on your jacket and mark with chalk where you want to put the patch. In the show it’s placed by the second from the top button. (See Jackie reference photo at the top of the post).

• Iron on the Heat n’ Bond to the back of the patch (following packet instructions).

• Iron the Patch to the jacket based on your chalk markings.

• You have completed the front patch!

Above are some photo examples of my jacket (please ignore my messy hair in the left picture, being in the snow got it ruffled up).

Sorry for the long post but I think I got everything covered. I hope you guys found this helpful but if you have any questions about the jacket, my process, or anything else feel free to ask!

[colourgelliners]

I finally finished a patch I've had in the works for about three years-

completly hand embroidered, I don't have a sewing machine

It's the logo for the level Jumping to Conclusions from Sackboy a Big Adventure. One of my favourite levels 💛

Yes, the patch is mirrored but I don't care 😂

[ollyolyoxenfree]

Life Series in my style! Specific seasons get different designs but this is a general amalgam :).. Design notes under the cut for a few of the designs i want to talk about, for those of you into that sort of thing.

general notes:

Each season would look different

Winners have purple eye highlights on green life, and on red life they get the watcher symbol in their eyes.

Grian - Standard parrot Grian design, but on red life I go for a more watcher-esque design.

Jimmy - Man has that canary coding. There's poppies embroidered on his lapel to nod to Third Life. The back of his coat has a dog for Secret Life but you cant see it here.

Joel - Evil Shrek. Iconic life merch under his vest thing, and on red life he gets a beard a la Last Life.

Scott - Has his iconic crystals, but on red life they have purple post-Last Life because hes a winner. Has an axolotl patch to nod to Binkie or whatever its name was.

Tango - As his lives go down, the fire gets hotter. Green is mostly red-orange fire, yellow is... yellow. And red is white-hot with some blue at the edges.

Etho - I actually don't really use an arctic fox Etho design? But it just felt right here. Heart patches turn red when he goes red.

Bdubs - Moss cloak withers and red flowers bloom on red life.

Cleo - Apparently the colored bits in her hair were snakes but i always saw them as beads ??

Martyn - Mix of his vtuber and MC outfits, but he has a watcher logo on his arm.

Ren - He goes full dog mode on red life. He's got that dog in him.

Lizzie - I saw one art of vex Lizzie and it changed my brain chemistry. Green and yellow life she's an allay, red life she becomes a vex.

BigB - Heart foundation earrings, plus his outfit goes pink/red on his red life. He was one of my favorite secret life POVs :)

Gem - Her shirt changes color depending on life, and her antlers get bigger and sharper.

Pearl - Wolf ears cuz Tillie, moon/star cloak for symbolism. Cloak changes color with life, moon phases on clasp change as well (crescent on green, half on yellow, full on red). Eyebags because five am Pearl is so iconic.

[dog-park-dissidents]

nothing can come between a puppy and its innate need to be constantly repping symbolism related to its favourite band. gotta be promoting y’all 24/7!!! this’ll be my 4.5th dpd patch:))

also, while i was embroidering the patch i noticed something and now i can’t unsee it

@mueritos are you seeing this shit? We just put the logo in the music video and the album isn't even out yet and they don't even know what it means yet and already????

Anyway that patch is so fucking cool and that creature is cursed in the most beautiful way. Thank you for sharing this with us

[freshthoughts2020]

[nightmaretour]

I hate to do this, and it's a long shot I know, but things are getting desperate and it seems like I'm going to be waiting WAY longer than I should be for something that's fairly urgent.

I'm a disabled trans man living in the UK. Recently I was found to have severe anemia, and came up with my FIT test (gastrointestinal cancer screening) a few months ago, and was referred for a colonoscopy to find out the cause, since it looks like I'm having a slow but constant bleed through my GI tract. However, my referral has been awaiting review for over three months now. I'm not even on the waiting list, I'm waiting for someone to decide if I need to be on the waiting list. Since then I've started having GI symptoms such as pain, intermittent loss of appetite, etc. as well as my anemia worsening significantly.

This is of course pretty urgent, but it looks like I'll be waiting months longer once I finally get on the waiting list too. I really have no choice but to get it done through a private hospital, because of the time sensitive nature of, you know, potentially having cancer. I managed to put some money away out of the backpay I got from PIP, but it's not enough.

[ID: A screenshot of an email that's says:

Dear Mr (name blocked out in red),

Thank you for your website inquiry. For your information, the cost of an initial consultation with one of our consultant gastroenterologists is £280."

It then lists the names of 3 doctors as links, all blocked out in red. The email continues,

"The guide price for a colonoscopy is £2,339. For further information, including appointment availability, please don't hesitate to contact the medical secretaries (followed by three names redacted in red) directly on (phone number redacted in red) or call the private patient team on (phone number redacted in red). End ID]

Currently I have around £1,400 stashed away from PIP backpay I got after they royally fucked things up (however I may need to dip into this at points if I find myself struggling). Together the consultation plus the colonoscopy will cost £2,619, which leaves me about £1220 behind. I know I'm most likely not going to get that much from this, but I honestly have no choice but to try my luck here. I really don't know what else I can do.

I really don't like asking for money from people for nothing, but I have a Ko-fi store where I sell handmade screen printed patches, and I'll be adding more designs to it over the coming weeks when I have the time and energy to make new screens. I'm also offering commissions for custom band patches! (Due to Kofi's TOS I can't officially offer patches for bands without their permission.). Below are a few examples of my work:

[ID: 5 images of patches printed in white on black fabric, all sewn onto a worn looking black denim jacket. All are sewn on roughly in red floss, aside from the last one. The first says "only dates I want are tour dates". The words "dates" and "tour dates" are larger than the other text. All of the letter As are replaced with spade symbols. The second is the logo of the band Cop/Out, which is the band name with rough, jagged edges. The third is the logo for The Prodigy, which is the band name in sharp. Zig-zagging letters. The fourth is the logo for the band Subhumans, a stylised skull shouting into a microphone. The fourth is the horizontal silhouette of a crutch. With the words "Talk shit" above it and "get hit" below it. Unlike the rest it is sewn on in black, and the edge of an embroidered back patch is visible just above it. End ID]

I know a lot of people aren't doing well financially right now, and that there are people in far, far more dire situations who probably need your help far more than I do, but I would appreciate any purchases of patches or help you can offer so, so much. Even just sharing the post would be enormously appreciated.

Current progress:

£115/£1220

And of course as pet tax, here's Cynder :)

[ID: A photo of a female wild type leopard gecko laying spread out on a smooth rounded rock in a glass fronted tank. Her head is sideways and raised, looking at the camera with one eye. She looks relaxed and curious. Behind her a large piece of thick tree bark and a plastic cave can be seen. End ID]

[skzstoryvault]

Pretty Princess (Chan, smut)

F!Reader x Husband!Chan

Standalone story

Reader uses Chan's insecurities for sex

Established relationship.

Chan deserves all the attention and the love. He needs to be the princess too sometimes.

This is in no way meant as a commentary on the real person Chan. I just like the SKZ outward personas they all project and I get inspired to write these. No connection with the real artists. They all deserve the world.

Story includes smut, reader calls the shots, shy Chan, praise, uncomfortable but not unpleasant wristy

Please be kind.

Please do not report this post. If it's not your thing, just scroll away.

If you're underage, please scroll on, there is nothing for you here.

If you enjoy this story and are reading along, I would love to hear your comments in the replies, reblogs or DMs - however you feel most comfortable.

***

“I don’t know. Is it okay? Or too much?” Chan asks, walking out of your shared wardrobe. “Is it slutty? I don’t want to be slutty this once. But I still don't own a suit."

“Babe, stop worrying. You aren’t dressing for them, you’re dressing for me. And you know I'd show you off just as much in Ipanemas and a single hollowed out pineapple on your dick." “Are you sure it won’t be an issue?” He is standing there, in black jeans that hug his thighs just right, and a black Givenchy t-shirt that has a very inconspicuous embroidered black logo. “You could go to a convent in this fit and you wouldn’t be out of place.” You say, somewhat disappointed. “If I’m dressing for you… would you choose what I should put on? I wanna be good for you.” “Channie.. You are always good for me.” You soften and step close, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him close, kissing him slowly. “I’m just a horndog, always thinking of getting my hands on you. Doesn’t matter what you have on, I’m just thinking of when I get to take it off.” 

“Fuck.” He says, as a response to your words and as a reaction to feeling himself start to fill up in his pants. “I can’t go hang out with your parents like this.” “We have time, babe,” you say. “And I was going to say. If I should get to pick what you wear, I’d need you out of this shirt anyway.” He immediately pulls it up over his head and off, standing before you in just the pants, which you open, carefully pulling the zipper down. Now that so much skin is on display, you take a nice, long, appreciative look at your artistry from last night. A trail of strategically placed hickies decorates Chan's front, from his collarbones downward, over his pecs and abs, disappearing under the hem of his underwear. You know that similar wine-coloured marks adorn his hips, inner thighs and even the insides of his knees. Your need to touch and taste him is ever-present and overwhelming. Still eating him with your eyes, you go to the jewellery cabinet and pick one of your items. A gold chain necklace, that wraps around the neck and continues down with another length of chain which connects it to a waist chain. You tie it around Chan’s neck and waist, pausing to admire the result, unable to resist slowly running your thumbs over his now hard nipples. Chan looks gone. He’s holding his breath, his pupils are dilated as far as they can go and a delicate blush tints his skin from his abs to his cheeks. 

You pick another item, a string of Ghana beads, made with gold and gems, tying it around Chan’s waist as well, watching it settle lower, on his hips. Lastly, you take a sleeveless, plain white jersey shirt from the wardrobe and hand it to your boyfriend to put it on. As soon as he pulls it over his head, you grab your alteration scissors from the drawer and go to town on the shirt. Since the fabric is jersey, you don’t have to worry about it unraveling where you cut it. The pretty cutout pattern seems random, but it’s not, and the places at Chan’s sides where you cut whole patches out expose the jewellery outlining his trim waist. 

You take his hand and lead him to the full length mirror on the door of your wardrobe. 

“My pretty baby, you did so well. This is how I want you, so I can show you off to the world.” You whisper, moving your lips against the soft skin of his neck. 

His lips part in a silent gasp, seeing himself like this, in a far more daring outfit than he would have thought of putting on. Seeing you whisper into his skin like a demon leading a virgin into sin with honeyed whispers. His jeans are still open, the way you left them, and the jailbreak in his underwear doesn’t look as painful as it could be with a zipper pulled up over it. Not breaking eye contact with him in the mirror, you reach in and free his cock from behind the fabric barrier. Your pointy, long nails clack together when your hand squeezes around him, then slowly drag down his length. He’s so hard and the moment the weight of his cock rests against your palm, you can feel its rhythmic throbbing, like a pulse. You grip him harder than you think is comfortable and watch him. If he minds that, he’s not showing it, just twitching more in your grip. You don’t even have to carry on for long, just skate the pad of your thumb over the slit in the tip and caress up and down the length with a slight twisting motion. It can’t be comfortable, and normally guys use some sort of slick stuff to make the slide easier, but Chan is turned on out of his mind, which is where you need him. “Look at you. My god boy. My pretty princess, letting me do everything I want to you.” You purr in his ear, earning yourself a high pitched mewl. “But I want to be nice, you’re nothing but good for me and that deserves a reward. My pretty baby.” You punctuate your latest pet name with a sharp nail gently sliding over his slit, then lower, to the underside, where the head is most sensitive, and that’s what throws him over the edge. He comes with a surrendering moan, panting and reaching blindly for a point of support, his head resting back on your shoulder. 

“I’m… gonna need a moment.” He says, sorting himself back in his underwear and closing his jeans, watching you wipe your hand clean of his come with one of the patches you cut from his shirt. You then step into your shoes, which have you being slightly taller than him, whereas before you were the same height. “You may have taken me apart a bit too far.” 

“Are you saying you’d rather I drove? I can do that, baby boy. You just relax.” You offer. You love the idea of him just swimming in the endorphins, not having to focus on anything and later getting tipsy on Wildberry Lillets at the party. You know how that ends usually, with you fucking him by the pond at the back of the garden or in the piano room where nobody goes these days. Later, at the garden party your parents threw at your childhood home, there is not a single woman or man who is not drooling at Chan. He is blushing and squeaking when someone makes him shy with a remark or makes him laugh. Your mom walks up to you with a Veuve Clicquot flute in hand. “Maybe next time teach your husband to dress more modestly, he’s supposed to let you shine. No one’s been able to string two thoughts together since you two arrived and he took off his jacket. Animals, all of them. At my boujee function.” “But Channie is letting me shine. Who do you think picked his outfit? You taught me to go for what I want and settle for nothing less, mom. And you taught me well.”

[slushiepizza]

what's in guy's workbag that he asked honey to get for him in the very first audio. I included various hcs and references in it!

explanations and closeups below:

Bag

Monster energy : he has to get all that energy from Somewhere. I see him as the type to not enjoy drinking water either.

HBS wristband : it's the wristband from the concert he and Honey attended during HBS '23.

Live, Laugh, Lactate : obscene patch that he puts there solely because Honey hates it

Musical pins : pins of Hamilton and Rent, two musicals that I think Guy would enjoy.

Embroidered logo : I like to think that honey did that for fun.

Yosemite National Park pin : reference to the fact that Dahlia's in California

Misc. Pop Culture Pins : Carmen sandiego (" Are you a titular character from the game Where in Time is Carmen Sandiego because Ivan Idea."), Junji Ito + Cardcaptor Sakura + Percy Jackson (I brainstormed with @joshusten on what media Guy would enjoy and I wholeheartedly agree with their suggestions <3 love u sten) , D-20 dungeon master pin (Guy definitely is one)

Items

Keys + carabiner : keys to his and Honey's apartment

Chocolate : Reference to his first audio where he took chocolate home from work because apparently Honey is a chocolate fiend.

Phone : the bee charm is a gift from Honey, they have a matching pizza one. He drops his phone a lot hence the screen smashed to smithereens.

Draft Book : As a writer he needs to jot down ideas quickly so he needs a notebook at hand. Stickers are from DFF, Dahlia Film Festival, that he attended as a scriptwriter of a short film, and University of Dahlia's Creative Writing and Literature Society, that he was a part of back in college.

[missbaphomet]

Tumblr merch propaganda:

Sweatpants: super comfy. I ordered a 3x and they were a little tight but I'm also losing weight so that doesn't bother me. The print is good quality and feels tough. I don't know anything about screen printing or whatever the process is but I have a hoodie from WDW in 2014 with the same kind of printing and it still looks like new. I would be willing to bet the printing will last. They are black, not tumblr blue.

Vanilla Extract Bottle: color irl is brighter than pictured on the shop. I got pink thinking it was a more bubblegum pink but it is BRIGHT. the lid has a foldable straw. It's flat on the bottom but rounded on top, surprisingly comfortable in the mouth. Internal straw detaches for cleaning. Holds soda with no problems, but will hiss and release pressure when the straw is lifted, doesn't fizz out of the straw. Keeps cold really well! I filled it with a water bottle from the fridge and left it out all night and it was still cold the following morning. The finger loop has gel padding and is comfortable to carry by one finger even when full.

Tumblers: I got the presidential pink one and the sky one. Smaller than expected but perfect size for morning coffee. Comes with a matching straw and the lid has a slider to close the tumbler when not in use and keep things hot. Probably dishwasher safe, but I prefer to hand wash so no promises.

Patches: some are printed, some are embroidered, both seem fine. They have iron on backing but never hurts to double secure with a sewing machine.

Offline Journal: I haven't written in it yet but it has a good weight and is hardcover.

Shoelaces: they're great, only complaint is the plastic aglet but I'll let that slide since it would be hard to get the tumblr logo on a metal one