I wanted to try some new stuff with embroidery this summer, so I suggested to the bf, @powersimon, that we should do a collab. And since we’ve been binging on The Adventure Zone almost every night, it seemed only right to do one of the gang. He did the linework, and I transfered them onto the fabric (which was a journy in itself lmao) and stitched it up. Took ages, but it was real fun as well!
headcanon for the Taaco twins in order to justify my over-blingification of
poor, one-meal-per-day-poor, at-least-we-have-a-roof-over-our-heads poor, everything
that shines is gold to you. You want this uselessly complicated “exotic fruit,
emerald flower, ivory soft” soap; you want the perfume in a shiny golden box
that leaves glitter on your fingers; you want that too-rich food that swears it
contains two dozen different types of carrot and has too much cream; and you absolutely don’t care if it’s tacky or
unhealthy or actually cheap. You want what you imagine luxury is, and luxury is
to have Everything.
the better. No time for subtlety. No time for refined shit. You want to swallow
everything you can because you never have anything anyway – let me have this,
let me have this.
her first dress in a thrift shop: it’s covered in thirty different patterns,
overly-saturated, obviously made in bad quality fabric, with too much ruffles
and poorly painted wooden pearls and plastic sequins and loose golden threads.
It’s the ugliest piece of shit, but it’s a lot, it looks like a lot. She wears
it until she can’t anymore, and even then, she still keeps it because hey, who
knows, maybe someday she’ll make a new dress out of it? You have to keep these
things, they might get useful again someday. She says that of all the clothes
she owns and never throws anything away. “You never know”, she says. You never
these super cheap, way too bright to be true jewels you can buy dozens of at
the local market: he pierces his ears himself, in dozens of places, just so he
can wear more of these pseudo-gold plated hipster earrings with suns and stars
and intricate patterns that leave green stuff on his skin and cause the holes
to bleed and leak pus two times out of three. He still wears them, and still loves
them. Who cares if it’s not an actual diamond? A shard of glass shines just as
bright, with colourful tiny patches of light that dance on the palm of his hand
whenever he holds it in front of a candle. Plus, it’s not like he could ever
get an actual fucking diamond, so.
is not not-to-be-poor, but to look like
time Barry buys Lup an actual good dress, something made of silk, maybe, or
comfortable velvet, something colourful and shiny but something nice, she straight-up refuses to wear
it. It’s too much, too real. How much money did he put in this? Why didn’t he
save it in case something happens? She just can’t have that. They argue until
Lup can’t even find words to put on the gut-wrenching feeling she has and bites
her lips until she tastes blood, incredibly frustrated and angry and afraid, so
afraid, of this fucking real nice dress.)
looks nice, pretty boneboy, handsome faced reaper man, and like, Taako knew
this, Kravitz’s a man with style – so
he eyes his jewellery at the Chug N Squeeze, and sure, he’s not wearing much:
two small earrings, a couple of bracelets, a broche with his goddess’ insignia
on it. It’s a small round crow with a bright orange eye. It catches the light
in a way Taako’s jewels don’t, and suddenly, something nasty turns his blood to
ice when he realises it’s because it’s an actual fucking gem – and the rest is
too solid and heavy to be gold-plated.
wearing solid gold jewellery, and for the first time in forever, Taako, bright,
loud, pseudo-fashionable Taako feels cheap.)
argue when people call them too-much, greedy, shallow. They don’t care. All
they have are rhinestone bracelets, fake crystal stones, glittery nail
polish, colours and cheap glamour: they’re the king and queen of fake it ‘til you make it, so they
just. Don’t. Fucking. Care.
“A Secret That’s Worth It”
Carl x Reader, Negan x Reader
Word Count: 9,670
Negan x Daughter Reader, Carl x Reader
Summary: You’re Negan’s teenage daughter and from the minute you saw Carl, he sparked your interest, leading to a relationship between you two.
Warnings: Language, fluff, angst, mentions of death, kinda smutty
A/N: Does not follow the show exactly, I had to change up some things for the sake of the story, but I tried to make it as close as possible.
He was the first person you noticed when you stepped out of that RV.
He was wearing a flannel and a cowboy hat, and even with one of his eyes covered up and it being dark out, you could see how bright blue they were. You didn’t know his name, but you certainly were attracted to him.
Your father, Negan, had told you to stay inside the RV while he went out there and talked to them. He had told you that he was going to kill one of them and that he didn’t want you to see that, so you needed to stay away.
“Y/N, I do not want to see you out there. Your ass better stay in here, alright?” Negan had warned you. You didn’t listen. You had heard him talking to their group, and you got curious. All you wanted to do was see what they looked like, nothing more. You opened the door slightly and peeked your head out, making the attractive boy turn his head and look at you. They all did, but he was the only one you noticed.
“Dear daughter, did I not tell you to stay inside?” Negan bellowed. You knew he was trying to scare the group- that was his way of being a big, bad leader. He intimidates everyone. And by the look of everyone’s face, they were definitely afraid.
Summary: An Sam x reader a/b/o fic. The reader moves to a new town and changes careers, but those aren’t the only major life changes she’s faced with. (An AU where both Sam and the reader work at a high school.)
Warning: a/b/o dynamics, knotting and claiming, smut
Word Count: 5,000ish
A/N: I had fun writing his one. Hope y’all enjoy it, too! Feedback appreciated!! XOXO
“Oh, just my luck!” Lena rushed to try and make the light as she was caught in the sudden downpour. It wasn’t supposed to rain in the city until the next day, but then again, you could never really tell with the weather here.
“At this rate, I’ll probably catch a cold…”
Lena heard a soft click of heels against the wet pavement come to a stop beside her. She figured it was just another pedestrian waiting for the light to turn green. But then came an all too familiar voice.
“Hmm…what do we have here? A wet little pup caught in the rain.” The silky smooth voice purred.
“Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson called from downstairs. “It’s
Sherlock hurried down the stairs as quickly as he could.
“Ah, (y/n). Finally. John and Mary are preparing dinner upstairs and I’ll be
heading out for a bit.”
“Sherlock!” You said, exasperated. “You promised you’d stay.
Even if you had a case. It’s Christmas for Christ’s sake.”
“I hate Christmas.” He said with a sneer. “It brings about
carolers and holiday cheer.”
“Oh, Sherlock. Promise me you’ll still come home for dinner
“Food is for the weak and I told everyone not to get me
anything. I also did not get anything for anyone else…” He said trailing off.
“Fine. I promise I’ll be home for dinner and presents.” He
said rolling his eyes. “Even if I don’t eat and I don’t have presents.”
“Good boy.” You said smiling brightly. You bounced into the
building away from the cold, chilling air of London. Sherlock moved past you
and into the freezing air.
“I’m not a boy (y/n). I’m a man. A very smart one at that.” He
said quickly, as if in a rush, which to be honest he probably was. He then
briskly walked away. Mrs. Hudson gave you a sad smile.
“Sorry about him dear. That’s Sherlock though. Always
dashing about. Anyhow, might you come up for a spot of tea? John and Mary’s
food smells so delicious.”
You smiled kindly at her, “Of course, Mrs. Hudson. Thank
“Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock’s loud voice rang from downstairs.
“I’m back for Christmas dinner.” He said in a disgusted tone you could tell he
wasn’t really trying to hide. He walked upstairs quickly, taking the steps two
at a time. He walked past you hastily, using his coat to conceal something that
he was carrying. “Mrs. Hudson, John, (y/n) don’t wait up. I’ll be in my room
wrapping things up. I’ll be back in a wink.” He said winking at you. You
blushed profusely. Trying to cover it up, you said, “Shall we start eating?”
“Of course.” John said with a happy smile.
“Mary, the pie looks delicious.” You said to her.
“Oh, I didn’t make it. John did. He’s a great baker.” She
said bragging slightly about her wonderful husband.
“Well then John, it looks simply divine.” You said excited
to dig in to the wonderful looking food.
Time Skip – After Dinner
“Oh, the meal was so scrumptious.” Mrs. Hudson commented, a
little bit sleepy from the meal.
“It was.” You said, a
bit sleepy yourself. “It was too bad Sherlock didn’t eat anything.” You said
clearing the last of the plates from the table. As if on cue Sherlock emerged
from his room.
“Time for presents.” He said lazily, as if bored with the
whole affair and idea of Christmas. Little did you know, inside he was having a
silent panic attack. He secretly slipped something under the tree.
“Ok.” You said giddily, smiling like a child. “I’m excited
to see what you got me Mr. Holmes.” You said nudging him in the side.
“Nothing.” He responded. “I told you earlier that I didn’t
get anyone anything.”
You looked down, slightly saddened by this sentence. Your
Christmas cheer was being ruined by Sherlock.
“You know you don’t have to be such a spoilsport.”
“I actually do.”
“The idea of buying people presents gives some people
anxiety. Anxiety about not getting the right thing. In fact, it is
scientifically proven that people have more stress around the holidays.” He
said with a completely straight face.
“Really Sherlock? You don’t buy people presents because
you’re afraid you’ll get the wrong thing?”
“That is what I said, yes.” He said rolling his eyes.
“Sherlock… We’re your friends. We’ll be happy with anything
you give us.”
“Really?” He said raising an eyebrow. “Last Christmas John
said he loved my gift. He lied. I read his body language. He was not at all
pleased with my gift. I was given a mental talent for reading people and it is
a blessing and a curse. Let me ask you something, (y/n). Do you sometimes wish
I were a normal person? That I’m unable to read people like a book?”
Without missing a heartbeat, you answered his question
honestly, “No. You are perfect. If you weren’t the way you were you would never
have met me. You never would have been ‘The Great Sherlock Holmes’, and I never
would have come to you with my case.”
He clasped his hands together, thinking deeply. “Hmm… You’re
“As I always am.” You said.
“Not always.” He corrected quickly.
You laughed. John and Mary came out of the kitchen. “What’s
so funny?” John asked.
“Nothing, nothing.” You said. “Let’s go. I can’t possibly
wait any longer. I can feel the presents calling to me.”
“Presents don’t talk.” Sherlock mentioned quietly.
“They do in my mind palace.” You said, teasing him.
He sighed tiredly, “Let’s just get on with the presents.”
John cleared his throat. “Ok then. Let’s see, first
present.” He picked up a box with green wrapping. He said out loud, “For Mary
and John, from (y/n).” You smiled as they unwrapped it together. They pulled
out a small onesie.
“It’s for the baby.” You said smiling brightly. “Do you guys
Mary turned to you. “Oh, (y/n). We love it!” She came over
to hug you.
John said, “Thank you (y/n). It’s a wonderful gift.”
You picked the next box. “For Sherlock, from John and Mary.”
You smiled at the couple as you unwrapped the present for Sherlock. You pulled
out a hat. You laughed. Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked at the hat in
disgust. You smiled at Mary, “Thanks guys.” You looked at John and mouthed,
“I’ll make him wear it.” The next present was for Mrs. Hudson, from John and
Mary. It was a nice pink shawl. John and Mary had given you a nice coat that
matched Sherlock’s. The presents from John and Mary were all wonderful. Next,
it was your turn to give everyone presents. You had already given John and Mary
their present so you gave Mrs. Hudson hers. Sher pulled out a blouse, a skirt,
and a pair of heels all matching the same royal blue color. “Thank you, dear.” She
said smiling at you.
“Of course, Mrs. Hudson.” You said, matching her smile. Then
you handed Sherlock his present. He opened it and was surprised to see a brand
new blue scarf.
“Thank you very much, (y/n).” He said looking over at you.
You smiled at him, “Anything for you, Sherlock.”
Mrs. Hudson seemed to be ready to bounce out of her seat.
Sher quickly handed everyone their presents. Your gift was a nice jumper. “Mrs.
Hudson, did you knit this all by yourself?” You inquired.
“Yes I did.” She said quite proudly. Sherlock’s was a fancy
“Mrs. Hudson, where did you get this?” He asked.
“Oh, it was from a real fancy shop. I know you have a lot of
suits, but this one just seemed to pop to me. It would look perfect on you. I
mean you have all black suits; you never wear blue. I thought it would look
real nice on you.”
“Thank you. I like it.” He said cautiously, as if his words
might offend her. Everyone looked around. There were no more presents to be
opened. Everyone looked expectantly at Sherlock. They didn’t seem surprised,
however. They soon all packed up and left, save for Mrs. Hudson, who had gone
upstairs. You started to clean up the trash on the ground from the presents.
Sherlock watched you carefully, studying you. You had finished clearing all of
the wrapping paper from around the tree when a little twinkle from under the
tree caught your eye. You reached a hand under the tree and felt a box. You
pulled it out. It was a small box covered with shiny silver wrapping paper.
Carefully you turned it over, ‘To my dear (y/n), from your Sherlock,’ it said
in fancy writing on the wrapping paper. You turned to Sherlock and he gave you
a smile. “I didn’t want you to open it in front of everyone.” He said smirking
at your surprised face.
“Here, I thought you were a pompous jackass who was too good
to get anyone anything.” You commented, joking lightly. Sherlock only rolled
“Open it.” He said. “Before I change my mind and return it.”
“Now I know what you meant when you said you were in your
room, ‘wrapping things up’. You meant it literally, that you actually were
‘wrapping something up’. Gosh, you are clever.”
“I know.” He said, sarcastically. “Now open it.”
You excitedly ripped off the wrapping paper. Inside was a
black square velvet box. You gasped in surprise. It was from Tiffany’s. You
traced your fingers along the velvet on the outside of the box. “What is it?”
You asked Sherlock, looking over at him. He only smiled mysteriously.
“Open it and see.”
You opened the box to see the diamond necklace you had been
drooling over for a long time every time you passed the window of Tiffany’s.
“Sherlock! You didn’t have to get me this.”
“I actually did. Did you think I wouldn’t notice how every
day when we walked past the store you looked longingly and lovingly at this
necklace. I read John, I can read you too.”
“Sherlock! This is just too much. I-I” You were at a loss
for words. You looked down at the box and noticed there was another, much
smaller, box inside. You picked it up. “Sherlock… What’s this?”
He stayed silent. So you took the box carefully in your
hands and opened it up. Inside was a beautiful diamond ring. You gasped. “Oh
my. Oh my gosh.” You looked up at Sherlock. He smiled mysteriously.
“I see no need to get on one knee and all so I’ll just say
it. Will you (y/n) (y/l/n) the most beautiful and clever and kind and funny
person I have ever met and also my favorite human being in this entire wretched
world, agree to be my wife?”
“Yes, Sherlock. Yes of course I’ll be your wife.” You stood
up to hug him and as you hugged you noticed a small green plant hanging on top
of Sherlock’s head. You smiled. As you pulled apart from the hug you pecked
Sherlock on the lips.
“What was that for?” He questioned.
“Tradition.” You responded with a smirk.
“I hate tradition.”
“Is there anything you don’t hate?”
“I don’t hate you.”
You smiled softly. “Hey, don’t get soft on me now Mr.