stitch

by Bill Tiepelman

Stitch Gone Rogue: The Zombie Edition

Once upon a time, in a world not too far removed from our own, the lovable experiment known as Stitch became... well, something else entirely. This wasn’t your tropical "Ohana means family" Stitch anymore—oh no. This was Zombie Stitch, and he had traded luaus and Elvis for chaos and carnage. The Day Everything Went to Hell It started innocently enough. Stitch had been minding his own business, terrorizing tourists on Kauai by stealing their Spam musubi and farting loudly during luau performances. Then, as fate would have it, a military-grade bioweapon “accidentally” got dropped into his pineapple smoothie. One slurp later, and our mischievous blue alien was dead… well, mostly dead. When Stitch clawed his way out of his shallow grave, he wasn’t the same. His eyes were darker, his teeth sharper, and his manners—well, nonexistent. The first person he encountered was a jogger in neon spandex. Stitch pounced. The jogger screamed. Five minutes later, Stitch was burping out a chunk of neon running shorts and lamenting, “No taste. Bleh.” Welcome to the Apocalypse The world had gone to hell in a flaming dumpster, and Zombie Stitch was thriving. The formerly idyllic Hawaiian paradise had turned into a wasteland of rotting coconuts, burning surfboards, and shambling hordes of undead tourists. If the apocalypse had Yelp reviews, this one would’ve been rated “five stars for chaos, zero for hospitality.” Stitch had embraced his new lifestyle with gusto. He wore a leather jacket stolen from a biker he had eaten (it still smelled faintly of Miller Lite and regret) and had accessorized it with skull patches and a hula flower pin for flair. His signature mohawk was spiked with a mix of zombie goo and stolen hair gel. He was the undead king of punk rock apocalypse chic. The Undead Hunger Games “Brains!” Stitch growled as he lurked in an alley, waiting for his next victim. But not just any brains—Stitch had standards. He liked his meals smart and slightly pretentious. “No basic brains,” he mumbled, his voice raspy and guttural. “Need spicy brains. Mmm... nerd flavor.” He found his perfect target at a coffee shop still inexplicably open during the apocalypse. A hipster was sipping a pumpkin spice latte while typing on a vintage typewriter. Stitch pounced, slurping the guy’s brains like they were the foam on a cappuccino. “Mmm, artisanal!” Stitch declared, licking his claws. “Hints of anxiety and gluten intolerance. Perfect!” Zombie Stitch Meets Karen Not everyone in the apocalypse was afraid of Zombie Stitch. Enter Karen—armed with a bat, a bad attitude, and a megaphone. She cornered Stitch outside a decaying Target. “Listen here, you little gremlin!” she shouted. “I want a word with the apocalypse manager!” Stitch tilted his head, confused. “Manager? Stitch is manager now!” Karen swung her bat, but Stitch dodged with an agility that could only come from years of dodging Nani’s frying pan. He retaliated with a bite to Karen’s leg, but immediately spit it out. “Bleh! Tastes like fake tan and expired wine!” Karen hobbled away, shaking her fist. “I’ll leave a one-star Yelp review on your apocalypse, you little freak!” The Rise of the Undead Empire Over time, Zombie Stitch amassed a loyal following of misfits, survivors, and other zombies who found his chaotic energy strangely charismatic. He became the de facto leader of the apocalypse. His rules were simple: No eating Stitch’s snacks. (This included brains he had saved for later.) Punk rock at full volume 24/7. (Even the zombies who were missing ears somehow complied.) Mandatory mohawks for all minions. Under Stitch’s leadership, the zombies turned the remains of Disney World into their headquarters. Cinderella’s castle became a haunted fortress, and the animatronic pirates were repurposed as zombie sentries. Stitch declared himself “King of Zombie Ohana” and hosted nightly feasts where they roasted human legs like they were turkey drumsticks at the county fair. Climactic Showdown: Stitch vs. Humanity Of course, the remnants of the human race weren’t thrilled about Stitch’s undead empire. They launched a full-scale attack, led by an army of Karen clones wielding expired coupons as weapons. The battle raged in front of the castle, a chaotic mess of screaming, biting, and poorly aimed Molotov cocktails. Stitch faced the leader of the human army, a grizzled general with a flamethrower. “This ends now, freak!” the general shouted. Stitch just grinned, his jagged teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “Ohana means family,” he growled, lunging forward. “And family means... I eat you last!” The fight was intense. Stitch dodged flames, tore through barricades, and even used a Karen as a makeshift shield. Ultimately, he emerged victorious, standing atop a pile of flaming coupon books and shouting, “BRAINS FOR EVERYONE!” The Aftermath With humanity defeated, Stitch’s undead utopia flourished. The zombies developed their own version of Hawaiian culture, blending luaus with mosh pits and serving cocktails made from coconut water and… well, you don’t want to know. Stitch ruled as a benevolent (if slightly deranged) king, occasionally munching on tourists who were foolish enough to wander into his domain. And so, Zombie Stitch’s reign continued, a bizarre blend of chaos, comedy, and carnage. In the end, the apocalypse wasn’t so bad—at least, not if you were on Stitch’s side. If not? Well… let’s just say you’d better keep your brains spicy.     Available for Prints and Licensing This incredible artwork, "Stitch Gone Rogue: The Zombie Edition", is now available in our Image Archive. Whether you're looking for prints to decorate your space or licensing options for your project, this piece is perfect for fans of edgy, apocalyptic art.

by Bill Tiepelman

Fabric Fantasy: The Tale of the Living Dragon Embroidery

In Eldoria, a village cradled by verdant hills and ancient, whispering forests, there was a shop that seemed as old as time itself. Its sign, weathered yet elegant, read "Elara's Embroideries." Elara, the proprietress, was a woman of advanced years, with silver hair flowing like moonlight and eyes twinkling with untold secrets. She was known far and wide, not just for her unparalleled skill with needle and thread, but for the almost supernatural essence that seemed to imbue her creations. On an evening bathed in the silver glow of a crescent moon, a peculiar inspiration struck Elara. She decided to embroider a dragon, not just any dragon, but one that encapsulated the essence of fantasy and dreams. As she threaded her needle, she felt a strange surge of energy, as if the very cosmos were guiding her hand. With each stitch, she wove not just thread, but also whispered enchantments, a language lost to the ages but known to her heart. The dragon that took shape within the wooden hoop was mesmerizing. Scales of emerald and azure sparkled with hints of gold, and its eyes, a deep, piercing sapphire, seemed almost conscious. As the night deepened, a remarkable transformation began. The fabric of reality itself seemed to warp and weave around Elara's creation. The dragon's embroidered wings quivered, and a gentle breeze arose in the room, carrying with it the scent of ancient forests and forgotten worlds. By dawn, the shop was bathed in an ethereal glow, drawing the villagers to Elara's doorstep. Inside, they witnessed a spectacle that would become the stuff of legend. The dragon, once confined to the realm of fabric and thread, now perched majestically atop the hoop, alive in a form that transcended its humble beginnings. Its scales shimmered with a light that seemed to come from within, and its eyes held the wisdom of the ages. Elara, standing beside her creation, looked every bit a part of the magic she had woven. The dragon, with a gentle nod to its creator, spread its magnificent wings and let out a roar that resonated with the power of creation itself. The dragon of Eldoria, as it came to be known, became the village's guardian and an enduring symbol of the magic that dwells within art and the soul of the artist. It was said that the dragon's presence brought prosperity and protection to the village. Elara's shop became a place of pilgrimage, a site where the boundaries between art and reality were forever blurred. Even now, years after Elara's passing, the dragon remains, perched eternally on its hoop, a guardian across time. It stands as a testament to the belief that within every thread, within every stroke of creativity, there lies a story, a breath of magic, waiting to be unleashed. In Eldoria, the legend of Elara and her dragon lives on, a reminder that in the hands of a true artist, the impossible becomes possible, and even the simplest of materials can give birth to wonders beyond imagination.

by Bill Tiepelman

The Artisan's Mythos: Weaving with Dragon's Whisper

In a realm delicately draped between the whispers of myth and the silent stones of reality, Marianne wove her legacy. The dawn spilled through the lattice window, painting the room in a cascade of honeyed light, illuminating her silver hair and the ancient patterns that danced beneath her nimble fingers. Atheris, her companion of many ages, lay beside the loom, a guardian whose scales were the color of the sun-soaked earth. His presence was as much a part of the room as the loom or the yarn that Marianne spun. Since childhood, she had known him, had felt the warmth of his breath as she played at the feet of her grandmother, who told stories of the dragon’s first coming—a creature of legend, bound to their bloodline as protector and friend.Day by day, the weaver and the dragon shared their silent language, a communion that spoke through the creak of wood and the sigh of scales. Marianne's craft was more than art; it was alchemy. Within the threads lay the echoes of old magic, the laughter of the creek where she once played, the tears for a sister who had ventured beyond the hills and into the tales of her own making.The tapestry that unfolded was a living chronicle, a woven spell of protection, each stitch a word in the story of her lineage. It told of the night when the stars whispered secrets to those who dared to listen, of the day when the wind sung of bravery to those who were brave enough to hear. This was her gift to the world, a gift that had been passed down to her, as tangible as the loom's kiss upon her skin, as ethereal as the trust she placed in every yarn.Onlookers from the village would gather at her door, peering in to catch a glimpse of the fabled work. They felt it in their souls—the tug of something grand, something that spoke of an era when the veil between worlds was thin, and all beings, great and small, lived in the embrace of enchantment.The tapestry grew, a canvas of ochres and umbers, alive with the fire of autumn leaves and the depth of the earth from which they fell. Atheris’s likeness emerged from the fabric, his eyes aglow with the wisdom of centuries, a silent oath to those he watched over. The weaver’s song, the dragon’s tale—bound in warp and weft, their story was a symphony of shared existence, a testament to the timelessness of their bond.This story, rich with the hues of history and the light of shared memories, is immortalized in the very threads of the tapestry Marianne wove—a tapestry you can bring into your own home. With the artistry of Marianne’s tale and Atheris’s silent vigil, the poster is a gateway to a world where every thread sings with the echoes of legend.We invite you to welcome this piece of their story into your life. To own a fragment of the magic, a safeguard against the cold forgetfulness of a world that has lost its way to wonder, click here. Let this tapestry, captured in the stillness of time, hang upon your wall and remind you that in the threads of the everyday, legends are waiting to be awakened.