Jules of Nature
$LAYYYTER
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
styofa doing anything
Mike Driver
Not today Justin
RMH
Today's Document
i don't do bad sauce passes
wallacepolsom
will byers stan first human second
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
trying on a metaphor
AnasAbdin
Keni
Product Placement
shark vs the universe
Peter Solarz
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from France
seen from Türkiye
seen from Canada
seen from Singapore
seen from Türkiye
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
@derrysheriff-blog
Butch leans back against his cruiser, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as eyes stare the male down behind a pair of aviators. Butch already felt like he knew the boys type--Arrogant, disrespectful and down right stupid. Butch would’ve ignored Dally’s existence, but soon as he noticed the glare he instantly became annoyed.
“You got a problem, son?” He questions, pulling the cigarette from his lips to only flick it to the side. Brows furrow as his arms cross over his chest.
How can I BLAME you-
When it’s me I can’t FORGIVE?
Forgive me…
Forgive me not.
Why can’t I forgive me?
me: screaming
Henry’s father straightens his back, the belt firm in his grasp--However soon SHE was mentioned, something that causes a twang of pain in the Butch’s chest. He’d break his gaze and to stare at the photo of his ex-wife.
“Don’t know what ya mean.” The words were cold as his eyes return to look at his son. “And I thought I said we don’t talk about her.” His chest pounds as a forced breath escapes, he’d put his belt back on in silence, his mind trailing to Henry’s words--the accuracy was a bitter truth.
“I ain’t avoidin’ you. I cant help my work schedule--and you don’t want to be here anyway. I bet if you had the chance to run off to her you would’ve.” Another huff as Butch runs a palm across his face. Butch never blamed his ex-wife for leaving, but it still ached--and truthfully if Henry took off Butch would understand why. He knew he was a horrible man.
“I’m doin’ my best to raise you--” A pause, “Things would’ve been easier if she stayed but she didn’t and that’s just what it is. I can’t change a damn thing about it. You wanna blame me for it? Go on ahead.”
Those were the last words to leave his lips before stepping out of his sons room--quickly he retreats to his own room where he’d lock his door and sit on his bed. He wears a pained expression as his mind wanders. If tears could be shed, they surely would be but Butch has long passed that point. He knew his reality, and it was a bitter one.
I forgot to mention I’m a slow responder. I have the attention span of a goldfish.
Wow I gotta finish this blog up. Might be the plan for tonight.
Butch is silent--merely observing Henry. There’s a short singe as Henry claims to be stupid, Butch knew that it was his fault, and for once there is a visual change as he sits up, his eyes staring at the floor. Henry’s words only seemed like static to him--he wasn’t really listening to his son.
“You aren’t dumb.” Butch states again, his hand opening and closing as he rests his forearm on his knee, his eyes watching his hand, “Don’t say that about yourself. Just cause they tell you its important don’t mean it is. You are smart in your own ways.” He’d stand, walking around Henry to a liquor cabinet, a bottle of whiskey next to a glass. Butch would pour himself a drink--gulping it down soon after.
“It’s my fault, ain’t it?”
Butch offers a short nod before getting into the police cruiser, as he waits for Patrick he turns on the car and buckles his seat-belt. Once Patrick is in the car Butch begins to drive on back to Bower’s Farm.
Butch remains somewhat silent as he drives--not particularly wanting to engage in conversation with the male. Something about him threw Butch off, and he didn’t like it. He’d light a cigarette and continue driving, his eyes shifting to Patrick for a brief moment “So. How have you been?” He questions curtly as he finally shatters the silence in the car.
TEETH grind together, dark grey hues studying the boy so CLOSELY. His behavior was almost....expected, but still Butch stiffens, only watching Henry. Anger swells in Butch’s ribs like fire to cotton. The male takes a heavy step, a loud huff escaping his lips, his palms now resting on the table as his eyes squeeze shut. If only time could stop.
Butch knows Henry is right. That it was a dying dream--one he had failed so hard on. It doesn’t make it burn any less. Butch can only scoff at it, shaking his head. If there was ever a time to open up--it would be now...But Butch doesn't function like a NORMAL person, at least not with a belly full of beer.
“There’s a reason I do it asshole.” Butch stands straight as he grabs a smoke, lighting it quickly. He takes a hard hit--expelling the smoke as he speaks, “It’s supposed to teach you some god damn responsibility, but you don’t fuckin’ listen to a word I say. Always tryin’ to be a hard ass for some reason. I’m warnin’ you now boy. Cut the shit and just do what I said.”
How can I BLAME you-
When it’s me I can’t FORGIVE?
Forgive me…
Forgive me not.
Why can’t I forgive me?
Butch just takes another hard hit of his cigarette, his brain mulling over his sons words. As much as he acted like he didn’t--Butch understood where his son was coming from, he was in the same boat in school and because of it his father beat on him until graduation...but Butch didn’t want to approach the situation like that.
“You ain’t dumb, Henry.” Butch shifts again as he puts his cigarette out, his elbows meeting his knees as he stared at the failed test. The elder male can feel his sons gaze on him, but he doesn’t direct attention back--He doesn't feel like he can look back because he blames himself for this.
“This shit is a fuckin’ joke anyway. It doesn’t matter as much as they say it does.” He leans forwards, signing the paper before handing it back to Henry, finally looking at him with a stern brow, “We might need to get you a tutor so you don’t fail again. Right now it seems like the best choice to me, I don’t want you to be stuck in that place forever.” Again another forced sigh as he looks away from Henry, “I can tell you’re tryin’ son.”
Butch removes his glasses, carefully tucking them into his front chest pocket. It was now he gave Patrick his undivided attention, enough that he turns his body to face the brunette.
“That might be the case but its his punishment for getting mouthy. I was gonna ground him but I decided against it. If you want a ride you can come help him out, I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”
"Oh, shit." Victor hissed under his breath, his grip tightening on the straps of his backpack. Running into a cop after curfew was one thing, but running into the cop whose son you were about to meet up with was another caliber of 'oh shit' entirely. "Howdy, Mr. B." || bowerspunk
Butch offers a rather loud huff as he climbs out of his car, leaning against the door as he stares down Victor with squinted eyes. He had suspected two different reasons why the blonde was out past curfew. One being he was heading home, the other that he was meeting up with someone. At first he believes it to be Patrick or Belch--but even then Henry was almost always with them.
“Where you goin’ ?” It was more of a demand rather then a question, “And who else is gonna be there? Don’t lie to me son. I don’t wanna escort you home.”
@bowerspunk
Butch sits up, taking the paper from Henry. A hand meets stubble as he reads the paper silently. At the sight of the grade a heavy breath leaves his lips, his eyes shifting to Henry as he tosses the paper onto the coffee table. First instinct was to whoop Henry’s ass but the male looks back to the television for a moment before using the remote to mute it.
“Are you tryin’?” Butch shifts, turning to stare at his son as he takes another sip from his beer. Visibly he was aggravated, but he wasn’t quite drunk enough to go off on Henry, rather...he was concerned in the simplest way.
“Cause if you ain’t, ya need to--A bit more. How many tests have you failed?” Butch grabs the lit cigarette, taking a hit off of it, “Be honest to me son. I’m...dissapointed. Not angry.”
@derrysheriff / cont. from (x)
“Didn’t see Henry at school today. He home sick or somethin’?”
“He had some work to do at the farm so I pulled him out for the day.” Butch turns his head to Patrick, his brows furrowing behind his glasses, “He’ll be in tomorrow and you guys can go off galavanting like normal. Shit just needs to get done and he’s been slackin’ quite a bit. “
"Hey there, Mr. Bowers."
“Patrick.” Was the curt response Butch responds whilst adjusting his aviators, only to have his hand return to resting on his belt, his eyes watching the other children leave the school,
“What do you want?”
The older man gulps down the rest of his beer before setting it down next to him, his eyes shifting to his son as he grabs a smoke, lighting it to take a harsh hit, before ashing it in the ashtray. As Henry approaches, he offers a half-assed chuckle.
“Not us, that’s for damn sure.” His tone was somewhat gruff as he shakes his head, “It’s a damn disgrace.” Butch takes a hit of the cigarette, dropping it into the ashtray as he stands up, walking to the kitchen to grab another beer--this time he grabs two. One for himself and one for Henry. As he sits he uses a bottle opener, handing the first beer to Henry, after that he opens his own and takes a sip before relaxing back into his chair.
“Didn’t think you’d be home so early. How was school?” Butch expected his son to be out until nightfall like usual--if anything his son asking about the game drew instant suspicion, he wasn’t into sports and Butch was more then aware of that.
