#somedad

[caeruiean-blog]

“You did that for me? Wow! You’re the best, bro.”

@somedad

[kegmastercraig-blog]

@somedad

“Bro. I got this.” With a lopsided grin, Craig throws his shoe at the tree branch and it takes a second to realize that his shoe is not coming down along with the softball. “Uh... Okay, gotta admit, I did not see that coming.” It usually works, in his defense.

[solucius-blog]

lucius voice: you're more prone to set off a metal detector with a metal butt plug than you are with lots of piercings

[twobeetlesinaboat]

lilac

Can I pick all of the above? I love dogs cats AND fish

I have a fish named Ms. Midnight and I love her

And two cats named James and Lilly

Pets are wonderful

[lostmemoriies-a]

@somedad

“LOOKS  like  you’ve  drawn  it  to  yourself.  Or,  did  you  mean  affectionate  attention – ? Platonic – ? If  so,  that’s  a  pretty  interesting  way  of  calling  it  to  yourself.”  His  smile  is  bright  and  WARM.  Nevermind  the  fact  that  he’s  been  brought  to  glance  away  from  whatever  he  was  doing.  Omar  seems  entirely  amused.

“     it ‘ s  about  time  i  get  the  attention  that  i  deserve     .     “     frances  grumbles     ,     making  no  attempt  to  sound  upset  in  any  way     .     “     i  absolutely  DO  mean  affectionate  attention     ,     dude     .     i  am  in  desperate  need  of  affection  before  i  actually  burst     .     and  i  am  a  VERY  interesting  person     ,     as  i ‘ m  sure  you ‘ ll  come  to  realize     .     “     grin  is  wide  as  she  lightly  nudges  omar  with  her  shoulder     .

[tcachcr]

🌼 - a yellow tulip

| Put a flower in Hugo’s hair! | @somedad | accepting. |

--Why is that? What are you planning, hm?

Hugo gave out a little smirk as his sight followed Omar’s hand. A little flower. That’s cute! But he still waits for something to happen next.

[daddycryptid-blog]

@somedad // cont from here

He’s silent at first, and then in a flash of sound and activity, he slaps a collection of bottles off one of the many surfaces they’ve gathered on in his house. They smash on the floor, but the release isn’t satisfying. 

“I’m not-!” the wind goes out of him before he can even finish the sentence, and he slumps back onto the couch, hanging his head in his hands. He knows everybody wants him to get better, but the voice in the back of his head tells him over and over, it’s only because they’re ashamed to have a drunk living in their neighborhood, not because they actually care. Who could care? 

And he’s been trying, but relapse is a bitch, and making it to those meetings where everyone talks in those patronizing voices and give out little cards and tokens like it’s supposed to mean anything... 

“I’m not strong enough.”