#crayola is a pain

[reddeadsredhead]

I thought I'd try doing a direct recreation of one of my many screenshots of Sean in colored pencil, did a hell of a lot better than I expected

[captainlightner]

zelink x kriselle cause why not

[lowkeyrobin]

headcannons where quackity's s/o has tattoos? could also be nsfw, if you're comfortable with it :))

I don't write NSFW but I can definitely do the tattoo part! thanks for requesting!! I don't think I've actually posted a quackity focused thing yet which is surprising to me bc I have like 3 drafts for him LMAO

QUACKITY ; tattooed lover

summary ; you have tattoos and your boyfriend is head over heels

warnings ; language; talk of needles / pain of tattoos, use of quackitys real name (lmk if I should change it!)

word count ; 670

genre ; fluff

masterlist

In general, he'll act normal about all your tattoos and whatnot, but inside every time he sees your arms (especially if you have sleeves or some sick ones around your wrists that trail up your arm even a bit) he'll just get a little red in the cheeks. He absolutely loves all your ink. He thinks it's so sick, but he's not committed enough to get any, and he doesn't think he has the pain tolerance.

he went with you to get a new tattoo on your shoulder/upper arm area

he learned you'd be there for like 5 hours and he groaned like a shitty iPad kid and took his phone out while he threatened to call Philza

once he saw the tattoo gun... oh lord it was over

literally whisper shouted at you while the artist got up to get gloves

"that's what you're getting jabbed with??? why are we here again???"

genuinely can't look

once he hears the buzzing he turns his music on and he's staring down while he sits on the couch across from you

"Alex, look!" you smile, "I'm fine"

"how do I know you're not a clone?"

"Holy shit. dude it's the quackityhq duck, that's why I brought you along"

"WAIT WHAT?"

it's not a big tattoo whatsoever, but it's a reminder that he's always with you, how you've grown together and how that's always going to be an era of your content you'd never forget about

literally gets emotional about it

"You didn't have-"

"I wanted to, for the millionth time"

he genuinely didn't know tattoos were so expensive, once you leave he questions why it was 450 dollars and you explain to him how tattoo artist income works

He's not the one to want to peel off the second skin or pop the ink bubbles or even touch the tattoo until the skin goes back to normal. He's just kinda freaked out for some reason, it's just one of those things and it honestly makes sense.

He takes some dedicated time to sniff all the lotions and numbing creams and comment on each and every one, though. All while you're trying to do some aftercare on it and shit, and you just watch.

"this one smells like buttercream icing"

"yeah?"

"ew, this one smells like badboyhalo's ass!"

"why would you even know that? 😁"

If you have any tats without color, Alex will gladly color them in with washable markers like you're a walking coloring book. He'll literally call for you and ask you if he can color on you again, it's cute, really.

"y/n/n, can I color your tattoos again?"

"aren't you streaming?"

"so?"

"yeah, fine"

he has a whole gallon sized ziploc bag filled with Crayola washable markers

like he goes from playing on the qsmp and hanging out with some people to coloring all over you while said people watch 😭

you wave to his friends like "Hello, I am his walking therapy coloring book"

he's like a little kid. You just look over at him like, "Holy shit I could love you forever wtf"

Sometimes, he'll just draw you new tattoos (with washable markers dw) cause he gets bored and wants to doodle on you. Most of the time it ends up being stick figures and dicks but it's okay, it's his way of showing affection.

He'll genuinely think of song that remind him of each of your tattoos. Somehow, some way, he does. He has a whole playlist titled 'Y/n's tattoos', and he rarely listens to it, but he thinks it's fun to think of a new song when you get another tattoo.

Although he is a little concerned because what's gonna happen when you're old and wrinkly? How do the tattoos last? Do they become old and wrinkly like the tattooed grandmas meme? Because if so, he'll rip on you til the end of time.

"well I have a long time before I look like a tattooed elderly person, but okay"

"So you will? Oh my fucking God! BAHAHAHA"

[waterloggedsoliloquy]

Your name is-- WOAH WOAH WOAH.

You make sure to NEVER give out your REAL NAME when browsing the CHITTERNET. Or any PERSONAL INFORMATION for that matter. CHITTERNET SAFETY is important in order to have fun SURFING THE INFORMATION SUPERHIGHWAY.

Only in the REAL WORLD and only AMONG FRIENDS are you known by the name your lusus gave you: WURLWI WEBBEL. Not that you have many REAL LIFE FRIENDS, on account of your ALIENATING REJECTION OF CHROMATIC DECENCY. You've been told that your committment will only lead to a life MORE PAINFUL THAN NECESSARY, and they're probably right. You spend your alone time BUILDING AND MAINTAINING YOUR HEMOCITIES SITE, reading BLOGS, scouring FORUMS, and drawing in FREEWARE ART PROGRAMS. You try to maintain a ZERO TOLERANCE POLICY for anything that might get you DOOMSCROLLING, but you don't know if you're very successful. You just want your wanton nights of EPIC FLAME WARS to be put behind you.

Your talents are not only within the digital sphere, though. You've gained a reputation of COMMISSERATING ON HARDSHIPS for NEGLIGIBLE COMPENSATION or RECIPROCATION, which you hope your friends appreciate. At the very least, sometimes you can persuade them to join in on a friendly game of FIELD DIAMOND ASSAULT AND BATTERY.

Your trollTag is anonymousGuest and you make sure to always remind your friends that practicing healthy habits on the chitternet is rad and totally cool!

Crayola Color: green.com

Pronouns: they/them Sign: Cancom, Sign of the Connected, Derse Sway, Doombound Lusus: Mouse Ancestor: The USERNAME EXPUNGED Strife: Batkind Theme Song: Millenium Anthem (2000 New Years Eve) by Jay Tholen

[thebr0kend0llnextd00r]

I fucking hate older men on my page GET THE FUCK OFF OF MY FUCKING PAGE YOU GROSS SICK FUCK, IF I GET ANOTHER FUCKING GROWN ASS MAN THAT SHOULD KNOW FUCKING BETTER I WON'T FUCKING HESITATE TO LASH THE FUCK OUT OF YOU, YOU GUYS ARE THE REASON WHY I FEEL DISGUSTING INSIDE & OUT YOUR THE REASON WHY I WANT TO CUT MY BODY UP & DIE, I WISH I COULD JUST KILL ALL OF YOU GROSS DIRTY ASS MEN, YOU GUYS FUCKED ME UP BEFORE YOU GUYS ARE NOT GOING TO FUCK ME UP NOW, DIE & ROT IN FUCKING HELL & I'LL SEE YOU THEIR TO KILL YOU THE FUCK AGAIN, I'LL RIP YOU OPEN LIKE A FUCKING PIG THAT YOU ARE & RIP OUT YOUR GUTS LIVER & YOUR HEART & SCRAP THEM ON THE FLOORS OF HELL, THEN I'LL DECAPITATE YOUR SICK FUCKING HEADS & OPEN THEM TO BASH YOUR BRAINS IN, & I'LL RIP YOUR EYES OUTTA YOUR SOCKETS BUT I'M NOT FUCKING DONE I'LL RIP EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU FUCKING TEETH OUT TOO WITH YOUR FUCKING TONGUE, so you can feel the pain that I fucking felt fuck all of you dirty ass men come fuck with me, because I'll make sure you fucking hurt because you fucking deserve it so the gross ass men who are reading this

LEAVE

ME

ALONE!!!!!!!!!

I would not go near your Crayola dick 🖕

Me too all the gross men ☝︎

[8-rae-rae-8]

BUSTS DOWN THE DOOR.

chronic pain is flaring and depression is beating my ass. time to shout my mama price silliness from the rooftops

i always talk about the boys but as a caregiver myself, i know price would be the best caregiver.

are the men under his command arguably some of the most skilled, lethal men in the world who don’t need protection?

yes.

is he going to be a mama bear for the 141 anyway?

ABSOLUTELY.

anyone who has a problem with gaz, soap, or ghost has a problem with him. price will not hesitate to pull rank (even from behind the scenes, like making sure they aren't promoted) if someone is shitty to any of them.

i think a lot of people don’t realise we get “caregiver” headspace!! i need price sliding into it everytime he’s remotely proud of his boys. gaz gets a new best score for training? price was the scoop him up and spin him around. ghost has a good communication day, asking for what he needs? price wants to buy him 100 new plushies. soap remembers to take his meds, shower, etc. on time? STICKER ON THE CHART, BABY. something about the way they beam at him when he says "good job" makes him feel all warm inside.

i strongly headcanon that price has chronic pain from being older and his years of service---especially his knees. it kills him that sometimes he just can't carry the boys around or kneel next to them while they play. the guilt of not being a good caregiver, or them needing someone *better*, eats him up inside.

the boys absolutely know about this, even when small. they love helping him out!! they know mama needs help and are happy to bend over and grab something, or just are content to watch a movie in the rec room somedays.

(baby regressed simon is known to just hand price a plushie when he knows the other is upset. especially on rainy days when simon shares the same achey joint issues).

re him being so proud of them: price keeps every drawing they make. every. single. one. he several manilla folders with everything from non-regressed soaps' realism drawings to simon's marker scribbles.

a drawing that gaz did in crayola marker of the team is framed in his office. (:

as a local enby "mama," you already know i'm projecting onto that man lol

-🧪 who is working on cod OC & The Sticker Chart™ content

STICKER CHART !!!!

Oh a good old sticker chart 😌

I love this so SO much 😭

He's just gotta Mama Bear his boys, that's what he does !!

On good days, he'll hold one or two of them on his legs as they watch a show or movie. Price doesn't have to tell them if he's feeling too sore, they notice, and they're happy to accommodate it even if they're little !!

[hootbon]

Has anyone ever cheated with Leisel's room and not gotten caught? What if she finds out after she gave you a reward?

How does she feel about Caine? Or Pommi? Does she have a favorite art style/medium (like paints, acrylic, charcoal, or watercolor)? Can someone slash her canvas? What happens if they could?

No one has but it’s possible… if she finds out at all she will lock you from her room again for a period of time.. or beat your ass the next time you come into the room. (Or whenever she sees you again)

She’s somewhat neutral with Caine, he is the player after all, she has no bias for the moment regarding him. Pomni however, like everyone else, she has a wee bit of a bias with her because wet little cat.. sopping even, she could just squish her..

She loves acrylics, they give life to the art… she hates cheap watercolor though.. if you pull up with some crayola she WILL bust your ass I don’t make the rules.

Theoretically yeah.. you could. Problem is she has tons of them and a shit load of minions so hand to hand combat is a pain in the ass to even try let alone beat (if you’ve played or know of mystery dungeon.. think kecleon.. that’s the kind of bulahittery she would pull)

[hylianane]

I’m walking up to you like a little toddler holding a crayola drawing and showing you my HC that the reason Zoro doesn’t cover up in the snow isn’t to ‘train the cold away’ in the sense of adapting to the temperature, like he says, but because all his scarring tenses up with the cold and it makes his muscles stiff till they hurt and the self-punishing voice in his brain, the one that tells him he should never have allowed someone to even get close enough to hurt him in the first place and enduring this pain to its fullest is the only fitting punishment, wont let him cover up his damn tits to escape it. And also because he’s a slut.

[alexandriaxoxo]

War

Sometimes I feel war is intimate

It doesn't have to be a kiss

It can be a love to persist and insist

Yes, I will follow you into the dark

But when we arrive there

I will sink my hooks into you

I will consume you with ink and the black

I will arrive for you startling

I will paralyze you like a heart attack

It is my darling

Only my assurance to know you

Only my insurance to capture you

Your glow is a firefly

Sparked, wild, and full of light

And I wish to hold you in mine

To have you burn through my eternal midnights

And I know you bleed poetics

And I bleed lies and I itch

I'm afraid of every way your emotion makes me rich

For you alone rip apart our reality

And when we dance in sight of one another

We welcome madness as a lover

For your warmth is one to kiss through my fingers

Sunshine burning through an eclipse

I fear we are elliptical in orbit

A circle to never complete

A fear of loneliness for all of our feats

And yes, I too, miss the warmth of our feet

Dancing together; tracing your skin against cotton

I paid for you in fragile, tragic, shaking allotments

Dear shadow yours is a soul I have not bought

Is it because yours is one you have never sought

You make me frail- I am in frantic fraught

A drought in a desert

And you are the sea

Your presence evading

A breath of sharp misery

We are floral

We are fading

Will I love in an eternity of waiting?

Wait, wait, wait.

At a certain point the word is an affront to me

It is a word of sweet pain and bitter hatred

Angry Crayola red scribbling out a demand

To you I am in constant need of reprimand

Do I dance too freely do I dance too far

When will I remember the lights of your car

I am exhausted of how I whisper for you

On each and every star

I would rather scream my love aloud

Darling there is courage in not being proud

[leprosycock]

I was thinking about papillon again…. What do you think of j with a feeding tube? Like his hearts gonna give out because he’s too starved but neither of them want him to eat and he doesn’t want to go to a hospital and lud doesn’t want to take him there either, but he’d rather have j alive than have him be 70 pounds but dead. so lud buys a feeding tube and bag and he intubates j at home….

I had a feeding tube for a few weeks, years ago, and I hated it but looking back, it’s great fetish material……. It HURTS when they’re putting it in, even with numbing spray, you can feel it going down whatever pipe goes from your nose to your stomach

it feels like you’re choking and it’s impossible to breathe without feeling it, really hard to sleep with it too

I just get such a sadistic hard-on thinking about j going through that, especially thinking about lud slowly pushing it into his nose and down into his stomach and j’s crying and begging him to stop and he’d rather die than go through with this

and then after the liquid nutrients start flowing down the tube, j tries to rip it out, partly because of the pain of the tube but mostly because when you’re anorexic, getting calories pushed down into your stomach without you being able to do anything? Nightmare

(it’s very hard to get a feeding tube out of yourself on your own, especially if you’re very weak due to anorexia, he would probably fail and just end up in worse pain ^-^)

anyway uhhhhhh I don’t know how you feel about this kinda medfet stuff, but your fic just sparked this idea and I needed to rant about it

this is the most wonderful autistic medfet shit i’ve ever seen and i mean that with the absolute most respect and adoration and reverence. i would fucking love to see him hooked up to a tube weakened and wracked with fatigue and pain and the ever present intrusion throughout his body… each breath is a struggle to feel human again and he feels more machine than man… he wants so badly to do as lud asks and to look clean and pretty and thin and pliable for him but he’s so scared that he’ll gain weight again and he’ll have no control over it and his struggling is for naught…….. god that’s so fucking awesome. thank you so so so much for sending me this i love medfet it gives me life. i’m like one of those kids that makes crayola marker drawings of sonic in a hospital bed. soooo so so so good i love u

[alexcharmsyou]

Michael afton was an absolute houdini in elementary school,

even so that the office had to repeatedly ring William to come to the school and find him.

of course, William was always livid about it because that’d mean he’d have to quit tinkering with his marvelous invention to go track down his kid only to find him in the sneakiest corner munching on some fritos or some shit.

He stomped down the halls, scanning every wall and floor tile for a sign: the obvious of an open door, a trail of crumbs, maybe a muddy footprint or two.

“What a pain.” he said under his breath as he passed a class lined up against the wall. He tried not to make eye-contact.

(they also gave will a walkie talkie to communicate between troops-)

“Mr. Afton, we noticed some crayons sprawled out across the 2nd floor,”

Will stopped to rub his forehead, “I’ll be right there.”

When he got to the layout with the other school staff they were running amuck *searching for clues*.

“i cant believe we lost him, AGAIN!”

“this is terrible!”

“oh that poor child, what if he got lost!”

“Mr. Afton we’re terribly sorry but we cant se-“

“move,” William marched right by them to the storage room closet door.

“Michael open the damn door and get your ass outta there.”

Mike’s teacher walked over shyly, “Mr. Afton, you really think he’s in there? its locked at all times theres no way he could possibly-“

“open it or ill do it for you.” he interrupted. he knew his son would pull a lock pick at this hour, the reasoning behind that unexplainable.

Will knocked one more time before the knob slowly twisted and the room opened to show little Mike standing in front of his crayola creation.

“Michael, what on earth!” his teacher was so gullible, completely clueless that Michael could do such.

Whether or not he learned how to pick locks from a 3rd party or his father, William wasn’t telling.

Mike grumbled, “i don’t wanna go back to school!”

“dumbass you’re already at school.” he laughed.

Mike made a “grrrr” sound. (You know, as five year olds do.)

“WILLIAM. i don’t think it’s a good idea to use all of that language with him, for pete’s sake he’s only five.” Ms. Landerson called him by name now, yikes.

Will shrugged, “eh, he’ll hear it all one way or another.”

He bent down to pat Mikes little head before slithering off.

“Mr. Afton! “ Ms. Landerson called at him.

William waved and started down the stairs “If he tries to pull anymore shit take measures, theres a monkey backpack harness in his bag.”

[cicidraws]

for the new fans coming into homestuck cosplay and stuff: pls seal your paint, it is 100% worth it to buy makeup sealing spray.

dont use crayolas air dry clay (though model magic(Same company) is fine, basically paper clay but at least similar) for horns, as it will crumble to pieces under a year in high humidity or within at most 2 years. completely turns to powder. hell, not even any project you want to Keep.

arm socks are a pain to make but theres options out there

dont use bobby pins, hot glue, and glue on nails for teeth, they rust. theres an old video on youtube i followed for that and its a bad idea. plus it hurts your gums. (i learned the hard way for a first few years i was using those bc i couldnt afford fake teeth) its much better to go for companies like Dental Distortions OR other brands aswell might make the same product for cheaper(make sure they use mouth/body safe materials). there are also other methods to make your own at home SAFELY just fine. just definitely research.

you dont have to dye your gums or tongue to be 'accurate', or damage your well-being or body to be 'accurate'. youre fine as you are. people will know who you are. have fun, ignore the bullies.

closet cosplays are fun, and if not even more a creative outlet to add to your character youre cosplaying - speculating on what they could wear outside of how theyre seen

dont use sharpie on yourself or acrylic paint. use snazaroo or other things made to paint you + detail with your normal makeup. /srs

idk what else to add but yeah dw youre gonna do fine, just be careful.

[fathercharlesoffdensen]

The Many Faces of Charl (clockwise from top):

- Charl (OG): Patron Saint of Daddy Issues, also he needs you to sign a Pain Waiver;

- Chuck: Chuck makes this face at the boys when they lurk in/around his office for too long and/or in court - Chuck hears you, but he isn't listening;

- Chardlezard: Sex idiot who has no idea how to use those nunchucks;

- The Dead Man: Comes home with removable scar and 9 months' worth of unanswered questions;

- Charldl: Multiplicity (the movie starring Michael Keaton) rules apply here aka what happens when one clones a clone of a clone, etc. The bowtie / de-sleeved suit jacket / hair swoop are additional delights to behold here;

- Father Offdensen: Comes with medallion made from Crayola Model Magic Clay and The Robe for all of your sacrilegious role-playing needs.

Who is your favorite Charl variant?

[love-kurdt]

Remember This Moment

a very sweet, kinda bittersweet chrismukkah ficlet featuring mike wheeler, will wheeler, and their two year old daughter, joan

word count 1.5k

ficlet ao3 link

Shreds of russett potato fell into a bowl from the grater that rested across it. The potato in question was being vigorously pushed and pulled back and forth across the surface of the grater in a strong grip, belonging to one William Wheeler. But the hand was quickly losing momentum as the potato got smaller and smaller, losing its initial mass. Seconds later, he lost his grip on the potato, and it fell to the floor with a thud. He groaned in frustration as he picked up the scrap and threw it out while behind him, a pair of little hands clapped with joy. Well, at least one person in the house was having a good time.

His daughter, Joan, sat in her high chair with her giant crayola markers and a few sheets of printer paper, but was obviously more entertained by her father’s failure. He turned around after grabbing a paper towel, wiping the starchy potato juice off his forearms and sauntering over to where Joan sat. She giggled and reached up to him with grabby hands, and he picked her up, settling her on his right hip. He carried her over to the counter, showing her his sad attempt at latkes he was working on.

When he and Mike first started looking into adoption, the question was constantly brought up as to which religion their future child would be raised in, if any at all. Both of them agreed, with Will being Jewish and Mike growing up Catholic, that they wouldn’t limit or compromise the traditions of the other. Ever since they got together (and even before that, honestly), they spent their Decembers celebrating both Hanukkah and Christmas. And this was Will’s first time trying to make his mom’s famous latke recipe.

“See, Jetti Spaghetti,” he began, calling her by the ridiculous nickname that he’d made up– and that his husband objected to every time it was uttered in his presence– inspired by the one and only Joan Jett. “These are potatoes. Can you say, ‘potato’?”

“Po-yay-yo,” Joan repeated in toddler speak, and Will laughed heartily as he picked one up and let her hold it with a glimmer of fascination in her brown eyes.

“Not quite, but you’re getting there. Kind of.”

“She’s barely two, give her a break,” his husband laughed from where he stood in the doorway. Will had no idea how long Mike had been standing there, but the dopey grin on his face led Will to believe that he’d seen the whole thing. Will set Joan back in her high chair as Mike crossed the kitchen to where he stood. He was still wearing his coat; he’d just come back from work. He leaned down, pressing a firm yet loving kiss to Will’s lips, brushing their noses together. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hey, yourself,” Will replied with a light smile. “You’re home early.”

“Well, the blizzard was getting bad, and I wasn’t about to get stuck in three feet of snow,” Mike sighed, shucking his coat off and tossing it onto one of the chairs next to him. He spun around then, sneaking up on Joan, who was fixated on her latest Marker Masterpiece™.

“Hey, Bug!” he exclaimed, and scooped the little girl up in his arms, kissing her face as she screeched, “Papa!” high pitched and happily. Mike missed his baby girl like crazy. Getting such a significant raise at his publishing job had been both a blessing and a curse; they were financially stable, but he felt like he was missing out. When he first became a parent, he’d been the one spending time at home, playing with her, preparing her meals and singing her custom-written lullabies. It all felt like so long ago. But Will’s job as an art teacher provided a more flexible, less time-consuming schedule that allowed him to spend more time with Joan.

“I’m so jealous you got a snow day, I missed this little munchkin,” he cooed, but his eyebrows suddenly furrowed in pain as Joan pulled roughly on his long hair, cackling as she did so. “God, this kid is really out to get me,” Mike feigned complaint and let Joan down, and the two watched their daughter toddle through the kitchen and out into her play corner in the living room.

Will turned back to the task at hand, grabbing a new potato and the peeler off of the counter. He felt Mike’s arms wrap around his middle and his chin resting on Will’s head. How was Will supposed to get anything done with a giraffe-koala hybrid clinging onto his back?

“Damn, baby, these look good already,” Mike hummed, and Will scoffed.

“They’re literally just shredded potatoes.”

“I stand by my statement,” Mike said, and his arms got tighter around Will’s torso, as if to hold him there until he believed what Mike was saying. 

“They could turn out disgusting,” Will frowned, giving up for a moment and turning in Mike’s grip to face him, leaning against the counter.

Mike ran a hand up Will’s arm, over his shoulder, and up his neck before brushing some hair out of his face. “Will, you’re amazing at everything you do, don’t doubt yourself.” Will looked up at him then with teary eyes. 

“I just wanted Hanukkah to feel somewhat normal this time, you know?”

Joyce’s absence weighed heavily on everyone’s minds last year; she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and was gone within the year. She was only 57 years old. She never got to meet Joan, and that kept Will and Mike up at night. They missed her more than anything.

“I know,” Mike held back his own tears as he comforted Will, pulling him into his chest. “And you’re gonna make her proud. She was always proud of you, no matter what.”

“Thank you,” Will muttered into Mike’s (Will’s) worn flannel. They stood there for a moment, holding one another close. Eventually, Mike pulled back and held Will’s face between his large hands, making Will feel warm, safe, and so at home.

“You got a sec? I have something I want to give you.”

Will quirked an eyebrow, but nodded anyway. “Sure.”

Mike took off then, coming back to the kitchen a minute later with a small package in his hand. He had wrapped it in newspaper, so tightly that Will could observe its disc-like shape. He held it out to Will, who took it in his hands, looking confused.

“Mike… what is this?” he asked, and Mike shook his head.

“Just open it.”

And Will did. He ripped the newspaper to reveal an ornament. Like, an ornament that belonged on a Christmas tree. Except it was a small, circular frame made of clay, with a little menorah painted on one side, and a Christmas tree on the other. The lower part of the frame had the words Daddy, Papa, and Joan’s First Chrismukkah on the surface. And in the center of the frame was a photo of Mike and Will one year ago, huddled together on their couch with little Joan seated in between them. It was their first photo together as a family.

“Oh my…” Will put a hand to his mouth to muffle a sob, “Oh my god.”

“I know, it’s cheesy as fuck, but I just thought this would be a good time to remind you of what the holidays are all about– family,” Mike said, and Will just stood there, staring at the ornament in his hands, thinking about how lucky he was to have married such a sweet and thoughtful human being. “And that begins with traditions… like your mom’s latkes. She gave you that recipe because she knew you’d want something to remind you of her. And, like, maybe we could pass the recipe to Joan one day. I’m sorry, I’m kind of rambling, but I just want you to know that–”

Will cut off his husband’s next few words with a tearful, passionate kiss. “Michael. I love it. I love you. You’re amazing. Thank you.”

“I love you, too,” Mike kissed Will’s forehead.

“Daddy, why cwy?” they heard their daughter’s quiet voice ask from below, and Mike knelt down to her level.

“Daddy’s a little sad, Bug. He misses Grandma,” Mike explained, and Joan turned her head up to Will, lifting her small arms to hug his leg. 

“I sowwy, Daddy. Gwannma-zin heaven.” Grandma’s in heaven. Will was going to melt. She was such a little empath. They’d taught her well.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Will smiled at Joan, then back up at Mike. “I was thinking you could ‘help’ me make these potato latkes. You can help me mix. How’s that sound, Jetti-Spaghetti?”

Mike playfully rolled his eyes at the nickname that had, surprisingly, been growing on him a little bit. Joan squealed with glee as her Papa lifted Joan onto the counter and handed her a wooden spoon to play with while her Daddy handled the rest of the potatoes.

And Will… let’s just say that Will Wheeler made some damn good latkes.

[2fiorello]

sketchbook pages (l-r)

1. self doodle in the urgent care waiting room (waiting to see doctor about insano debilitating spine pain and praying they listen to me lol)

2. tattoo design and project planning! got a lil ambitious 10 piece gallery exhibit planned more to come as that develops…

3. self indulgent crayola marker drawing not much else to say here lol

4. pen sketch of my wife in the forest preserve

[ladylooch]

i can imagine the twins being little and drawing on timos face after he fell asleep on the couch with crayola markers. or destroying mommy’s lipstick and writing stuff on the shower wall with it

Her YSL "Chili Morocco" lipstick is plastered all over the white walls in their shower, then it continues onto the floor and up the vanity. Timo and Emma stare at the situation, watching the boys gleefully yell.

"Which one you want?" Emma sighs.

"I'll take Lem. He looks the most squirmy today." Timo steps forward. Liam immediately starts to run from Timo, smacking his head into the door knob of the closet.

"Ooo!" Emma and Timo both exclaim at the same time. Liam begin to sob. Logan, in sympathy, cries out in pain too, clutching at his shirt as he runs to Timo's leg. "Okay." Emma picks up Logan, rubbing his back while looking over Liam's forehead with Timo.

"That's gonna be a wicked lump." Timo cringes.

"Oh baby." Emma smooths his hair back.

"Let's get an ice pack on this ASAP."

When they get downstairs with the twins, they gasp at the living room. Liv and Lio have ripped apart the couch, grabbed every blanket they can find, and have built a fort they proudly display off to their parents.

"Cool, huh?" Lio grins.

"Um..." Emm laughs, looking at Timo for a response.

"Looks fun, Lee! Our little pack of chaos." He shrugs, then leans down to kiss Emma. Afterwards, Timo heads to the freezer to begin icing the growing bump on Liam's head before it turns into a replica of the door knob he ran into.