#bec's creations

[saenora]

STAGES OF LOVE <3

so here is the process in a way … i forget to take snaps in between bec either i am working for 5-6 hours or i work at intervals of 15 mins in my breaks...but this was a change from my old style to the new one and my first commission in the style... with jo <3 (ily) (chloe's comm was on the base lines but i didn't have those wips snapped) so i made sure to take snaps for this one!!! i usually do the lighting somewhere in the middle to set a tone for the picture to look in the end. That's why i shift from clipping/unclipping the same layer over and over again... and that's why you can see the skin shadows changing in one in between. i am now trying to involve lighting in my rendering process only instead of a clipped mask... but that's not yet worked out ... so in future maybe !

@osamwah, liaa here is your tag!!

edit: i dont think its clearly visible will post a better version tomorrow >.>

[metro-nix]

Some of my oldest digital doodles, from around the time when I was playing Friendsim.

[ribbittrobbit]

not me compiling a list of fun names for future dnd characters in advance so that i dont have to pull out halfling name generator again next time

[7-oh-ta1]

I stg I got on my ea app to play sims after painstakingly making sure each mod was up to date, saw backyard stuff was free, and got possessed by my 16 year old self that wanted the old dlcs back then and rasped give it to me GIVEITTOME like I was gollum 😭😭

[riotshipping]

hey didyuo know tgat. ilike him

[guacamoleroll]

ɪᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ · ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘʟᴇ ʙꜱᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ༉‧₊˚

featured. osamu dazai, chuuya nakahara, fyodor dostoevsky, nikolai gogol, sigma. content. f!reader. based on a request. mentions of alcohol (dazai), mentions of food, nicknames, slavic dishes. (minor) spoilers for stormbringer. translation at the end. not proofread.

author's note. this was an incredibly fun request! these men either shift between being incompetent, or not being reliant on others, so it took a sweet turn.

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

synopsis. the kitchen can be many things. a refuge from the toils of everyday life. a workshop for the creation of exquisite tastes. an assemblage of conversation over collaboration.

but one thing is certain—a well-endeavored meal can warm the coldest of hearts.

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 arrived home late one evening, tromping through the doorway with the confidence only a drunken man could muster. It had been one of those nights, ones in which he was all too aware of the hollowness of his own heart. One of those days where everything was too loud, the ones where he picked up every minuscule detail, whether he wanted to or not. So, he had taken to a drink or two to fill a void, only to dip into another—before he knew it, the room was spinning, and he found himself kicked out of the bar.

But he still had you to return to, so he gathered any soberness left within him and clambered to place his trench coat and shoes in the spots you had set out for them. He was glad you didn't hear him walk in. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been granted the opportunity to take in the view. You pranced around the kitchen, a lifted twirl in your heel as you stirred ingredients in a saucepan, the domestic mess of powders against your skin.

You were all his. The reason he had a home to return to. His sanctuary from his own mind. He often fretted—though he pretended not to—about the idea of you being taken away from him, a fact that he had come to accept as his reality. But in these simple moments, he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that you encompassed for a moment longer.

His arms fit snug around your waist, his head like a puzzle piece against the curve of your shoulder. "Is that for me?"

You hummed, pressing a peck on his cheek as you leaned into him.

"You'll always have a meal to return home to, Osamu."

Yeah. He'd indulge for just a little longer.

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 did not expect to pass out. He had returned home from a weeks-long mission overseas, anxiously awaiting the moment you reunited and ran into his arms—only for him to arrive early to an empty home. You were at work, and it wasn't his fault the couch clung to him like a vice! For a moment, he thought he had been dreaming of the fresh smell of savory pasta sauce and spices.

Wait. He can't dream.

He cracked open his eyes, his vision steadily straightening out, and trudged into the kitchen with a befuddled pout, his sight narrowing in on exactly what you had been up to.

"Babe."

"Chuuya!" you yelled, almost losing your grip on your spoon before you managed to catch it, clutching it close to your chest as you twisted the knob on the stove to place the heat at a simmer. "You scared me!"

His arms crossed as he leaned on the doorway. "What're you doing cooking in here by yourself?" he asked sternly, scanning the contents of the pot along with your face. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he was mad. But you did know better, catching onto the subtle tilt of his brow, narrowed in simultaneous amusement and disappointment. Cooking was often a partnered endeavor.

You couldn't resist laughter, cupping his cheek as if comforting an upset child. "You've had a long week, and you looked so peaceful lying there. I couldn't bring myself to disturb you."

He would've been quick to argue—you could wake him anytime, no matter the circumstance—but a thought overwhelmed him and kept his mouth at bay. You had done something for him, not with anything to gain, but simply because you cared. He was used to it happening the other way around, but this. . .this felt nice.

So, he relented, his ginger locks tickling your skin as he tucked his face into your neck with a sigh. "Thank you, baby."

𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 had been busy preparing the next phase of his plans, though you supposed he was always busy—too busy to take care of his own basic needs, that was for sure. He was always sorting through different data, exploring multiple angles to achieve his goals.

With the many tasks flooding his brain, he hardly had time to abandon his screens. The skin of his thumb had worn from his subconscious biting habit as he looked over another spreadsheet of banking information, his hands about to slide over the keys yet again.

The scent of stroganoff stirred him from his trance. His eyes shifted to find a steaming plate of the delectable dish sitting next to him on the desk. And he finally registered the firm hand propped against his shoulder, with you looking upon him from above with a sweet but knowing smile.

"Eat."

He wouldn't have customarily taken kindly to such a harsh demand, but he bent to the stern look of your gaze, one that hid behind it a level of care he ravenously craved. You worried for him, not in the same fashion as his so-called "friends," but with the genuine desire to see him thrive, no matter the circumstance.

So, the demon allowed himself a momentary reprieve, kissing a smile into your hand before taking a bite of the dish.

"Delicious, as always, моя милая."

𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈 had practically burst through the door, prepared to recount the travesties and trials of his day. That was until he caught onto the unmistakable scent of savory pirozhki filling. He followed his nose like a bloodhound, the smell creating a distinct path into the kitchen, where you stood, unaware of the man behind you as you mixed spices into a pan.

"What'cha cooking, dove?" His breath bristled against your ear as he sprung up next to you, using his ability with a shit-eating grin. Your expression mirrored his own, used to the stint of your lover's sudden appearances.

"I found some old Ukrainian recipes online and wanted to try them out." You held out a spoon, and he bit into the filling without a second thought—a mistake. He clutched his throat as his eyes watered, realizing it was too hot for consumption far too late. He finally managed to choke it down, releasing a loud whew!

"Trying to kill me so soon! How cruel!" he exclaimed.

Your laughter roared throughout your home, a shaking hand rubbing his back as you wiped tears from your eyes with the other. "Is it good?"

He brought a finger up to stroke his non-existent beard, humming a quick tune. "Hmm, perhaps a cup of chili powder."

"Коля," you deadpanned. "That's too much."

He sighed, a pout settled on his lips, but you caught the hand sneaking into the interior of his overcoat, snatching his wrist before he poured something irreversible into your dish. He cackled, attempting to pull away as you chased him around the kitchen island.

For a moment, it felt as if you were the only two people in the world—free of restraint. He could feel the bonds tied around him loosen. He could reach out, taste that sensation of freedom for himself. A freedom he had always found in you.

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀 had arrived back to his section of the Sky Casino earlier than he expected, having a strange lack of paperwork. But he simply decided to take it as a sign that he had been doing good work, and ignored the anxious feelings that always sprung from not having anything to do.

"I'm home—!" he called, but was stopped in the entryway by a sweet aroma. It was intoxicating, and he couldn't resist the temptation to lurk into the kitchen.

"Welcome home, honey!" you called back, your voice echoing down the hallway. He stripped himself of his coat, leaving it folded on one of the benches before he trekked across the threshold, a curious shift in his furrowed brow.

You were baking cookies, fluffy chocolate-chip cookies. He couldn't resist the smile on his face, even if he wanted to, nor could he ignore the bubbling warmth in his heart. But he couldn't help his confusion.

"Cookies?" he asked, dipping his finger into a batch of dough before he popped it into his mouth. "What's the occasion?"

You swiped at him with a flour-coated hand before dusting the rest of it off on a towel. "You've been busy lately, so I wanted to make you something sweet," you stated as if it were the simplest thing. But those few simple words took him aback.

You cooked for him. No one had ever done that before, not without being an employee or attempting to manipulate him—or both. And in a matter of seconds, only enough to let in a sweep of hot air from the oven to warm his skin, he realized something that had long remained empty had been filled. He felt whole.

"Sigma!" you exclaimed, and he realized that he had tears streaming down his face. The look of concern drawn through your strained lips, your furrowed brow, and your shifting eyes only further set in his new reality—he had his family. He had found his home.

"I'm okay, love. Just. . .thank you."

моя милая = my dear коля = kolya

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @lovedazai @osameowdazai @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @miloofc @s1eepybunny @dazaisms @deepseafragments @ajaxism @himikoslove @little-miss-chaoss @justcallmesakira @sillyspookycat @aureatchi @mxxny-lupin @emyyy007 @betweensinners

© ɢᴜᴀᴄᴀᴍᴏʟᴇʀᴏʟʟ 2024 — ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ��� ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ. ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜʀᴀɢᴇᴅ

[katrinasis]

happy 413 homestuck number day etc etc now look. the interesting thing about spades slick is that he alone out of all the versions of jack noir managed to develop emotionally beyond “born to kill universe is a fuck 19383727 kids dead” and “if i just murder enough people maybe i can satiate my hatred for all creation and utter boredom with reality.” now im not saying slick isn’t a ultra violent mass murderer because he is. the difference is slick has actual purpose in life beyond wanting to mindlessly kill people for the shits and giggles— he made a fucking city! he partook in creation despite the fact that he’s supposed to be diametrically opposed to it! he’s got a crew to run and needlessly complex heists to plan! spade slick avoids bec noir’s ennui and eventual exhaustion by actually doing something with his life, by actually working towards something productive rather than just trying to subsist off the temporary catharsis of mass murder forever. he is the most actualized jack noir in the sense that he is the only on to go beyond his base instincts and actually create something of value for once.

and the tragedy is that it’s all for nothing. every true spades slick scholar knows the line “nothing left to lose, or live for” but i think it’s worth unpacking what this actually implies— that being, slick is actively trying to end his life in cascade rather than just wanting to settle his score with sn0wman and not caring about the consequences. everything he has ever done has just been part of an LE-typical long con to get all his friends killed, get him into the exile vault, get him to doc scratch, and eventually put him into a position where he has absolutely nothing left and into a headspace where he thinks he might as well be dead anyway. he did literally everything he could have done right as part of the game— helped the players, rebuilt society, aided creation— and yet in the end was still fucked over harder than anyone has ever been fucked over before or since. sorry slick you’re going to be replaced with the version of you with no emotional development at all. sorry slick. but after all, who would ever mourn a jack noir?

tl;dr spades slick is the most tragic character in all of homestuck. WV is a close second but only because he was a grown ass man and a traumatized war veteran and then the narrative decided to make him davekat’s dog

[meowdy-all]

I have an idea for a fic!! I have to say i am a huge sucker for divine intervention where the cast of a show gets shown either memories or moments from a characters life, or shown the show itself.

I ALSO have to say that i am currently obsessed with Lucifer (and by extension radioapple). I really think it would be awesome if the hotel got a package delivered. And in it was a show based around Lucifers fall, and his banning from heaven. The war he fought with heaven and tge only reason he lost was because his father got involved. Showing lucifer is the second most powerful being in all of creation, tied with his brother Michael. Lucifer was GODS favorite child, he literally made the stars. Detailing his injuries Because of the fall, yk some prime lucifer angst. Showing his attempt to redeem sinners, that he was forced to stop because heaven got involved, and him having to make the deal for exterminations to save his people. And it also shows how lilith wanted a kid, and lucifer going through giving birth to Charlie, and then detailing how liliths treatment of him changed because of it (a BIG sucker for lilith treated Luci like trash) and her making it so lucifer CANT spend time with his daughter. And charlie doesn't know her mom was actively preventing lucifer from being active and involved in her life. And then it goes into lilith taking charlie away from him, and lucifers PTSD from heaven and his fall, and his depression. How all he wabted was his family. Angels are social creatures, and im fairly sure isolation for who know how many years isnt healthy for anyone. The whole hotel being horrified bec this silly man who is so awkward is EXTREMELY powerful and they tend to forget that. And charlie seeing heaven isnt all its cracked up to be, and they can be CRUEL, and he mother isnt a good person either. Of course all of this wouldnt be without some background radioapple old married couple bickering. And at least one scene would be something dramtic happening in hell, and it cutting to alastor (still alive) and hes in the middle of killing someone and he feels a deep unrest in his soul and he just goes (what was that)

Just... loving radio apple with a heap of lucifer angst and a side of bamf luci.

Im not going to lie to you this was largely inspired by Jeremy Jordan singing where is the justice on tiktok and i could not get Lucifer pleading his case infront of his brothers and sisters out of my head. And when they refuse to listen the war starts. Just... *chefs kiss*

[fefairys]

"[Vriska] wants to be important so desperately, she's willing to insert herself into the narrative even if it's for bad reasons. She wants to be the one directly responsible for the creation of the "ultimate end boss." Which is pretty dickish of her, I suppose. But when you think about it, there's something kind of pathetic about it. Because it's not really even her idea: the fact that she knows it happened is what gives her the idea. She knows Bec Noir is what made the session unwinnable, and by browsing Trollian, she could see the event that leads to his creation, which is John falling asleep at exactly the wrong moment. But when Vriska saw it happen on the screen, she had no way of knowing his nap was because of her. Until she decides to become responsible for it, thereby making it true in the first place. So she's not even the original author of her own diabolical self-insert intervention. This was established earlier as something she does, given her nature as a thief. She takes credit for other people's stuff, like Equius's robot that she was going to regift to Aradia. Vriska slaps her name on things and claims them for her own. In this case, she even slaps her name on the IDEA of slapping her name on the origin of Bec Noir. Neither thing really originated from her in a meaningful way." -Andrew Hussie

[chocolatecakecas]

it's the birthday boy!!!💖🥳🤠

feel free to use<3

[azurecnidarian]

Hi all! Working on my environment design/asset creation and took a shot at trying to make a Land of Heat and Clockwork level. Still needs way more work and a background but I thought it'd be fitting for Bro to run around LOHAC while I code new abilities and stuff :3 I also decided I kinda wanna make Risk of Rain but Homestuck. I think that'd be fun. I want the first 4 characters to be the guardians (Bro, Dad, Mom, and Bec).

[worriedvision]

Hi hi hello!! i originally sent this to yostresswritinggirl as an idea, and they said that this was up your alley. sooo i thought of sending you a request for the idea! here it is:

idk i just got the idea of cyno or tighnari seeing you asleep at your desk bec of all the creations you’re planning to do for them. then them carrying you to bed for you to properly rest in warm sheets. i like to imagine that the reader is an inventor. the things that the reader is best at is creating machines similar to the ones from that old robot event in-game. then them seeing you laying your head on blueprints, notes, and plans that could potentially help your lovers at their jobs. even though it’s not your forte. you try your best as it’s kinda the reader’s way of affection, ig???? like the reader knows that their creative creations can’t help the boys much with their jobs but wants to be somewhat of help to them.

it’s up to you, if you want to write for one or the both of them. have a good day and i love your works!! 💟💟

Ooh! For once this fic is actually gonna be fluffy lol, it's about time the poly couple had a happy fluffy moment! gender neutral reader.

--

You were known for making creations that didn't have much of a practical use, but they were popular among people who appreciated the crafty side of you. Your boyfriends did get some gifts that they enjoyed, however they didn't use these gifts very often solely because they were fully on with their work. You understood they really did appreciate the gifts, but you also knew that none of the experiments were capable of helping them with their work.

You wanted to think of something that would not only be a good gift for them, but also a gift they would use often at work. The idea of helping your boyfriends work thawed your heart every time you thought of it.

So, you got to work.

You worked tirelessly on blueprints, thinking of their work.

Tighnari had Karkata, and you had an idea - why not work on some sort of jacket for him? Sure, the machine was fine with water, but it would likely be harmed if some form of electro was to come in contact with it. You knew Tighnari didn't especially like gifts that did too much, and you also knew that Karkata had become a companion of sorts for him so you figured you may as well make something for Karkata.

Cyno, hmmm.... You can't think of an idea that would help his work, per ce...

Oh! The traveler had that Golden Seelie with them! Surely you could make a device that worked as a companion of sorts, and you could even add in bad jokes for Cyno's entertainment. You could also equip it with some sort of device to hold onto Cyno's items, and you could also install some sort of emergency callout button if something really went poor for him.

You carried out research, reading countless books for a jacket that wouldn't restrict Karkatas movements, and as well as that you research what spectre husk would be the most effective for a companion that could float.

You commissioned for someone to get you some anemo spectre husks, hoping someone perhaps had some to spare, and you ask people for their worst jokes. After you had enough jokes, you got straight to work.

Thankfully, the traveler themselves happened to see an anemo spectre, and after hearing your commission collected the husk. You pay them, thanking them before returning to your blueprints.

--

You forgot what time it was, and you forgot to eat and drink when you were working on these blueprints. Tighnari was the one that walked in, seeing you sleeping on your blueprints, and he scoops you up to carry you to bed.

He saw those blueprints, and he can't help but smile warmly at it. You were working so hard on these blueprints, and he knew you struggle to make some of your creations especially handy.

--

You wake up in your bed, your blueprints left alone, and a drink and your favourite snack there waiting to be devoured. You brush it off as you just falling asleep and sleepwalking back to bed, and you didn't see any of your blueprints out of place.

You get to work again, and you finalise your blueprints with the newly found energy.

When they receive the gift, Tighnari can’t help but feel a wave of pride wash over him. His lovely partner had gone out of their way to make a device that would protect Karkata, and they put so much effort into making it perfect!

Cyno can’t help but smile when he notices a friendly looking machine float over to him, clinking lightly as it spins before he touches it. 

I tell you, when he hears it crack a joke, Cyno nods in approval, saying he finds the joke ‘hysterical’. Tighnari and yourself look at each other, mixed emotions as you see he’s taken a liking to the machine - you feared he might use the jokes too often. When you mention the emergency call system you implanted into the robot as well as the baggage space, Cyno thanks you. He started the sentence by insisting he didn’t need it, but he still decided to show gratitude for it. 

[ribbittrobbit]

No but to make a deity in your own image, that encapsulates your convictions perfectly but fail to propagate their worship?

What does that mean for Kristen’s belief? in herself? in what she has been searching for? what does it mean to believe in doubt incarnate?

because ok, like, religion always has some element of the miraculous or supernatural that transcends understanding. There is always mystery in relating to/ worshipping a higher power. But the mystery is secondary, it is mysterious that there are beings from another plane of existence that choose to interact with the material world- the reasons why are a mystery but the acting on the universe is believed wholly.

now what if the central thing is mystery and the unknown and the night (i’m thinking along the lines of the “dark night of the soul” as in a state of spiritual blindness/ lost in the darkness), its a never-ending feedback loop and ITS SO THEOLOGICALLY CRAZY

And how much of Cassandra’s current form a product of Kristen? Kristen who is plagued by skepticism, who got annoyed at the incredibly abstract god who was entirely her creation and let it die when she found a new thing. Cassandra as the nightmare king/ previously unnamed god of sylvaire did already seem to be associated with the night and mystery but the form she takes as cassandra mirrors kristen as she was in that moment, kristen in the nightmare forest, self -resurrecting. Are gods capable of transforming and growing the way humans can? or does changing mean a complete transformation?

she really is at kristen’s mercy and kristen IS A CHILD

Yeah anyway come and scream with me bec i physically cannot contain this, its not enough to draw about it and poetically think about it i need meta homies HELP

[thewertsearch]

According to the recap, the Horrorterrors considered the MEOW code to be 'dangerous'. As always, Hussie's phrasing is ambiguous, and it's unclear whether the danger they seek to avoid is Bec, Jack, both, or neither.

I mean, do First Guardians even represent a threat to the Gods? Sure, their teleporting abilities are dangerous to ordinary beings, but I don't even think you could teleport the Horrorterrors - they exist in a space where location is meaningless. First Guardians have incredible power over physics, but to harm the Noble Circle, you'd need to graduate to metaphysics.

Anyway - If A is true, then the Horrorterrors were intentionally trying to create a doomed timeline. For all we know, they succeeded, and they're also in contact with a Rose who did prevent the creation of Bec. I'm not sure what they'd get out of that, though.

B makes more sense to me, given the information we have. It actually achieves something meaningful - protecting Alpha Rose - and it's also consistent with Hussie's description, since MEOW represents a clear and present danger to Rose, in the form of the Draconian Dignitary.

There are other possibilities, but to discuss them, we'd need to discuss the Gods' deeper motivations, and that's a whole can of worms.

[shoyoist]

thoughts on pottery date with hanma

it's such a domestic thing to him that he's a little put off by the suggestion at first. you're on the back of his bike, watching him smoke and racking your brain for something cute you could do with this man that wasn't illegal or bound to get you in trouble — and then it hits you!

you've taken a pottery class before, and it'd been fun. so when you remember that the art college nearby is having an open day, you make a decision. “so, shuji...”

when you give him the idea, he laughs at first. “you want me to walk in ‘n spin a lil flower pot with you? a vase? what, is this your way of tellin’ me i should be getting my pretty doll some flowers next time, hm?”

and then he realizes you're serious.

imagine him sitting awkwardly on one of the little stools by the wheel, watching you shape a blob of clay with the tools you'd been handed, content with just watching you bec each group that came in was given just a single wheel.

he's so cute 😭 with his knees to his chest because his legs are so long and he's sitting so low, not knowing what to do with his hands while he waits for your creation to take shape. he's so out of his element </3

everyone's quiet and playing nice at their own corners and shuji has never stepped foot into a college building in his life before, he just doesn't know how to act. he's quiet enough that you check up on him every now and then, wondering if this was really a good idea—

“shuji, baby, you alright?” “shuji, are you having fun?” to which he responds with a simple nod or tells you “dollface i hafta be doing somethin’ before i can say if it's fun or not.”

some of the others milling around the other wheels in the room have so many tattoos, and so many people have dyed hair and wild haircuts that he doesn't look out of place exactly, but his aura still has people glancing over at the two of you. not that he minds.

he watches you patiently, because hey, if you're okay with walking into underground fight clubs with him and watching him fight, and letting him into your house at 1am to patch up his bruises and injuries, he should be a good boyfriend and enjoy whatever you want him to do with you, too. and when you finally finish with your near-perfect bowl and let him try out the wheel and ribs himself, he ends up having more fun than he thought he would<3

hanma has big palms and long, deft fingers and so even though he's never done this before in his life, he gets the hang of it pretty quick. but he's still never done this before.

his brows furrow together with focus as he runs the sponge on the inside of his spinning clay and gently touches the sides of it with the ribs. he gets clay on his chin, on his shirt and it's all over his hands in a muddy mess 😭 ++ the work comes out little better than a wonky blob.

there's time for a clean up and a little tea break while the class waits for their things to dry, and hanma notices the much bigger, more complicated models people have made and feels sheepish as he stares at his blob. he feels better when you tug at his sleeve and giggle about it though, because even if you're making fun of him at least you're having a good time<3

“what's it supposed to be?” you ask, and he runs a hand through his hair, a little embarrassed as he admits in a gruff voice, “a flower vase. for you... don't fuckin’ laugh, baby.”

“for me?” you pout sweetly, and he rolls his eyes, snipping at your nose with two fingers and cracking a grin when you dodge with a yelp. and on the way home, with your bowl and his blob flower vase carefully wrapped in newspaper and stored in your bag, he tells you that he did have fun.

“we could... do more of that if y’like.” he blushes despite himself when you hug him from behind, half of your laughter lost in the wind as he swerves his motorcycle to take a right. he glances into the mirror, heart fluttering just a bit when he sees your smile. he's glad you can't see his face right now. he feels the heat on his cheeks well enough.

“never fuckin’ mind.” he drawls, teasing. “i'm never doin’ that again then. zero outta ten, dollface.”

“no!” you protest, grabbing his shirt and pinching his side a little, and fuck it fucking tickles, he almost crashes you both into a passing tree — and he tells you so.

“might as well die if you're never gonna make an ugly ass flower vase with me again,” you huff, moving your hands onto his shoulders instead. and he smiles, knows you feel his smile when you reach over to pull his cheek.

he really did enjoy it, so much more than he thought he would. and he knew you'd be displaying his ugly ass flower vase on the sill of your living room window anyway.

maybe next time he comes over, he really will get you some flowers — for you to put into it and look at them, and think of him whenever he's not around<3

[feengoid]

feel like i can explain the designs from this post for curiositys sake, since thats all i can really do right now. wanted to draw it out, but whatever.

my idea of a heinoustuck retake, at least for the designs, is that they would be clean and have clear intent. you dont want to be bleeding or oozing profusely forever, how much cleaning and management will that be, its better to just keep it straight. and i also added more onto the idea that all the beta kids get transmutated with things that, in normal homestuck, are their kernelsprite components, alongside being things that their parents think is ideal. rose is a cat princess, dave is a puppet with a bit of bird, so on and so on.

john and jades cases i wanted to be special, at least at the start. he has a harlequin hat because thats just a part of his outfit, to him, its something of normality or comfort, but hes still scared because he doesnt want to be transmutated like in the original. in my idea of heinoustuck, he did want to get transmutated before, or at least didnt mind it, but after the trolls contact him about it (in this case the trolls arent transmutated, they're just normal aliens who see their whole creation as really fucked up. can explain later too) and he gets those really paranoid ideas from their warnings about how that shouldnt be normal.

jade on the other hand still wants to be transmutated, but can't. grandpa did try to transmutate her, but was forcefully stopped by bec and his first guardian powers (this would be just common sense in my head, bec would not let himself be cut apart for a very painful procedure on his friend). so grandpa, in possible fear or what the rest of society might think of an untransmutated child or just going out of compromise, makes her wear silly manthro chaps suits.

dont know what to write for this post anymore, h.