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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

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The Visitor

Summary: Reader receives a surprise visit from the last person she ever expects. Andy Barber x Black!Reader, A.J. Barber

Warnings: Angst, Jacob Barber, Talk of Death, Surprised Reader, Sympathetic Reader, A.J. Cuteness, Angry Andy, Accepting Andy, Fluff, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Growing Pains Series. Please enjoy and let me know what you think. Feedback is always appreciated. Semi-proofread. All mistakes my own. Thanks for reading!

___

“How ya feelin’ buddy?” You ask your sweet A.J. from his place on the couch. Your poor baby was home sick today, which he hated, because he loved preschool. He was snuggled in his favorite Paw Patrol blanket with a cool compress on his forehead. “Does your tummy still hurt?”

A.J. shakes his head “no”. “I hungwy, Mama.”

“Okay.” You gingerly rub his belly. “You wanna try some soup?”

He nods. “Chicky stars pwease.”

“Comin’ right up, little dude. Drink your water, okay?”

Leaving him in the living room, you enter the kitchen, only to hear your phone ringing. Seeing it was your husband, you hit “answer”.

“Hey, Andy.” You greet him as you crack open a can of Campbell’s Chicken & Stars soup and pour it into a pot, along with some water, before turning on the burner. “What’s up, my love?”

“Nothing. About to go into a meeting. Just wanted to check on you and our little guy.”

His concern for you both makes you smile.

“We’re fine, baby. A.J.’s fever broke and he said his tummy doesn’t hurt anymore, so we’re gonna try some soup. I’ve got it heating up now. You wanna talk to him?”

“Sure.” Your husband chuckles. Leaving the soup on the stove you head back to the living room.

“A.J., someone wants to talk to you!” You tell him in a sing-song voice while dangling the phone in front of him. He quickly takes it out of your hand.

“Hello?” He asks, holding the phone to his ear.

“Hi, Junior! It’s daddy - how are you feeling, buddy?”

“Hi daddy! I is okay. Tummy better. No mo’ frow up.”

“Well, that makes me super happy to hear. Daddy was worried about you, little man.”

A.J. coughs a few times. “No worry bout dah A.J. I stwong. Tough wike daddy.”

You can hear Andy’s laughter from your place beside your son on the couch.

“You’re super tough, Junior. Ope - daddy’s gotta go, buddy. I love you.”

“Wuv too! Buh-bye.” Your baby ends the call before you can take the phone back.

Oh well. You’d see your man tonight.

Jogging back into the kitchen, you turn off the soup and ladle some into a bowl so that it can cool. While that’s doing its thing, fish out A.J.’s favorite Paw Patrol spoon. And then you pour him a little apple juice into a sippy cup.

Food in hand, along with some napkins, you return to where your sick little dude is resting. He sits up when he sees you, softly clapping his hands. “Fanks, Mama.”

“No problem, baby. Let Mama grab a tray and then she’ll get you all set up.”

“An’ den snuggies?”

“Yes, sweet boy. And then we can snuggle.”

Once you’ve got A.J. taken care of, you decide it’s time to make a little lunch for yourself. Perhaps a sandwich would –

*Ding*

The sound of the doorbell surprises you. Pivoting away from the kitchen, you turn and make your way to the front door. Assuming it was something from Amazon, you open the door with no real thought, only to step back in surprise when you get a look at the nervous woman standing on your front porch.

Gretchen?

“Um, hello. I’m, uh, um - is this - is this Andrew Barber’s house? Someone told me it was but…”

“Uhh…” Is all you can muster as all thoughts of lunch fly out the window. Or in this case, the open door.

“I’m Gretchen Talbert, his mother-in-law. I mean his former mother-in-law. Sorry.” She tries again.

You shake your head and clear your throat. “Yes, this is his house, I mean, our house. This is our house, together.” You respond, wincing at the defensiveness creeping into your tone.

“Right. You must be his wife. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t -” Gretchen stammers.

“How about we start this over?” You offer her your hand, which she accepts. “Hi, I’m Andy’s wife, Y/N. How can I help you, Ms. Talbert?” You give her what you hope comes off as a friendly smile.

“Please, call me Gretchen. And I was hoping to speak with Andrew about something. I know he sometimes works from his home office, or at least comes back for lunch, and I was hoping to catch him.”

“Well, he’s not here. And even if he was, I’m not sure if he’d want to see you.” You can tell your words hurt the woman, which wasn’t your intent. “I just mean, you two seeing each other might not be the best idea, is all.”

According to Andy, the last time the two of them had been in the same room things had gotten pretty explosive.

A tearful Gretchen nods her head.

Not wanting to continue having this conversation on your front porch, and needing to keep an ear out for your sick child, you invite her inside so that you’re both standing in the foyer. “Hold on a sec.” You tell her. “I’ve got a little one home from school.”

“A.J., baby, are you okay?” You call out.

“Yeah, Mama. Soup’s yummy!” He shouts back.

Satisfied that he was alright, you turn your attention back to the woman in front of you.

“Look, I um, was just about to make lunch. Why don’t you come in and join me?”

“No, no. It’s okay. You don’t have to -” She starts, slowly backing away.

You run a hand through your curls. “I know what I don’t have to do, Gretchen. But I would also like to avoid all this potential soap opera crap. So at least let me get you something to drink. And maybe you can tell me why you need to talk to Andy…”

___

“Thank you.” the older woman murmurs as she sips on her glass of raspberry iced tea.

“You’re welcome.” You respond as you finish prepping your roasted turkey sandwiches on ciabatta bread. “Mayo, mustard, or oil and red wine vinegar?”

“Oil and vinegar, please.”

“Excellent choice.” You say as you slather both sandwiches with the dressing before adding a dash of salt and pepper, as well as a pinch of garlic. You add some chips to your respective plates before joining your husband’s ex-mother-in-law at the kitchen table.

You and your husband’s ex-mother-in-law.

“Here you are.” The woman smiles and takes a bite.

“Good?” You ask. After all, you’d roasted the turkey yourself.

“Very.”

You both eat in silence for a few moments, unsure of where to begin. Your mind briefly wanders to A.J. and then you remind yourself that you’d already checked on him, giving him more soup and apple juice. Your kiddo was fine.

“I, um, I was surprised to see that you had a picture of Andy and Jacob in the entryway.”

You set down your sandwich and wipe your hands.

“We actually have pictures of him all throughout the house. We, Andy and I, felt that it was important for our children to get to know their brother.”

And that was the honest truth. Bianca had been incredibly curious about her late brother for the longest, and was always asking Andy to tell her stories about him. Over time, your other little ones had joined in and, after a long discussion between the two of you, you had decided that it was time to acknowledge Jacob. He deserved a presence in your home. And it was important that his half-siblings knew who he was.

“Wow.” She clears her throat. “Thank you, Y/N, for not, uh, forgetting my boy.” You reach over and grab her hand.

“Even if we wanted to, which we don’t, our babies wouldn’t let us. Your grandson, Jacob, is very much a part of this family, Gretchen. Whatever happened in the past deserves to be left firmly in the past. We all make mistakes. I know Jacob may or may not have made quite a few, but that doesn’t mean he’s not loved. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t deserve to be remembered.”

The woman dabs her eyes with her napkin. “Thank you.” She whispers.

“Of course.”

“I have to say that you’re, uh, different than I thought you’d be. I mean, I had heard through the grapevine that Andy had remarried some years back, but…”

“And what exactly did you expect me to be like? A bitch?”

A sheepish Gretchen has the sense to look embarrassed. “I suppose so, yes.”

“I mean, that’s not my typical M.O, but I suppose we all have our days.”

“Right, of course.” She takes another bite of her food before washing it down with a sip of her drink. “May I ask just how many children you have?”

“Four. Although sometimes it feels like double that.” You tell her. “Three girls and a boy. Our oldest girl, Bianca, is eight, Katrina is five, and Rory and A.J. are both two. They’re twins by the way, in case you didn’t catch that.” You finish with a wink.

“Sounds like you’re a very busy woman.”

“Most days. But it’s worth it.” You offer up a shrug and a smile.

“I miss being a grandmother,” Gretchen whispers, tears once again filling her eyes. This time, a few manage to spill over. “I miss holding my baby. Both of them.”

“Gretchen…”

“I don’t know what happened. Maybe I should have paid better attention. Should’ve checked on Laurie and Jacob more when everything was going on. It was just…too much at times. It’s probably the reason your husband can’t seem to look at me and -”

“Gretchen, stop. Don’t take yourself down that road.” Your hand squeezes hers. “What is it you want from Andy? What are you looking for from him?”

You watch as the woman sobs softly into her napkin for another moment.

“I want Andy to come visit Jacob with me. His birthday is coming up and I want him to…” She clears her throat. “I want him to know that his father and grandmother came to see him. Together.”

You’re not sure why, but her request surprises you. Of all the things she could’ve wanted to ask your husband, you hadn’t been expecting that.

Her request makes your heart hurt. As a wife. As a parent. As a mother.

Just then, little A.J. toddles his cute self into the kitchen.

“All dun’ wif’ dah soup, Mama. Yummy.” He hands you his bowl and spoon and then he turns to Gretchen. “Hi miss lady. I sick. Mama say buggies in dah tummy.” He pokes his belly for emphasis.

“Well, I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, sweetheart.” The older woman tells him through her watery smile.

You pick him up and place him in your lap to check if he has a fever. Hmm…maybe a low grade one. You were going to have to end things with Gretchen soon. Plus, it was almost time for you to give your baby his cold medication.

“Mama, wan’ snuggies.” A.J. whines as he burrows deeper into your chest.

“I know bud. And I’m sorry. I was just talking to Jacob’s grandma for a minute.”

Your son looks between the two of you before settling his focus on the other woman at the table.

“Like our Jacob?” A.J. asks, his eyes wide.

“Yes, our Jacob.” You tell him. “This is his grandmama.” He turns to give her a shy wave, which she readily returns.

“Jacob mah bruver.” He tells her. “He in heaven now, but we still wuv ‘im.”

“I’m sure he loves you too, you sweet little boy.” She’s quick to assure him.

“Why don’t you tell Miss Gretchen your full name, A. J.? Go ahead.” Your baby puffs out his chest before responding.

“I is Andrew Jacob Barber Jr.”

“What a beautiful name. Thank you for sharing that with me.” She looks like she’s about to cry all over again.

“Welcome! Fweinds call muh’ A.J.”

“Alright, bud. Back to the couch. Mama will be in shortly.”

He scampers off and then moments later, you hear the sound of a door slam, followed by Andy’s voice as he checks on your son.

Once again, you reach over and grab Gretchen’s hand.

This was going to be awkward no matter what, but as long as Andy’s temper didn’t come into play, you’d all make it through this. Hopefully.

You both wait as you hear footsteps approach the kitchen.

“What the hell is this?” Your husband growls as he takes in the sight of the two of you sitting at the table, sharing a meal. “Why are you here, Gretchen? What are you doing in my home?”

“Our home, Andrew.” You mutter out the reminder.

“What?” He turns his glare on you.

“I said this is our home, and I invited her in. She would like to talk to you, and I think you should listen.”

Your husband stares you down, his captivating blue eyes are hard and unreadable.

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“From one mother to another, I wholeheartedly disagree. Step outside and talk to -”

“My ex-mother-in-law?”

“No, you buttface. I want you to go outside and talk with a mother who is grieving. Deeply. Please.”

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m hungry and I’m tired and I’m not in the mood to hear about how much of a shit father this woman thinks I used to be.” He mumbles to nobody in particular.

“You’re hungry? Here.” You say as you hand him your plate. You’d only taken two bites of the damned sandwich and you could always make yourself another one. “Now, please. Walk Gretchen out and just listen to her.”

Andy accepts the plate with a nod before taking a bite. He takes a moment to wolf down the half you’d nibbled on before placing it back on the table.

“I’ll be back for the rest, Y/N.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Alright, Gretchen. Let’s talk.” ___

Nearly an hour later…

You’re snuggled up and dozing with a sleeping A.J. when Andy finally walks through the front door.

“Hey…” You whisper when he walks right past you without a word. Untangling yourself from your son, you follow your husband into the kitchen where you see him enjoying the second half of your sandwich.

You’d been so caught up in the drama that you’d forgotten to make yourself something else to eat. Trying to keep the mood casual, you walk over to the fridge and pull out all of the fixings to make another sandwich.

“How’d things go?”

“Fine.” Andy grunts through a mouthful of food.

“Just fine?” You ask as you place your turkey on the ciabatta before topping it with a piece of Muenster cheese. And then you go to slice your tomatoes and pickles.

He sighs. “We’re going to visit Jacob in a couple weeks for his birthday. Actually, we’re uh, gonna try to visit him together more often.” He clears his throat. “So he knows that we’re thinking about him.”

Andy looks over at you, his beautiful eyes welling with tears.

“He needs to know that his father thinks about him. All the time. And I need to tell him that myself.”

You glide over to your man, wrapping your arms around his big body.

“Yes, you do.” You wipe away a stray tear. “I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you for talking to your ex. I’m sure it was painful, but you did it. And maybe one day we can all go with you to see Jacob.”

“Yeah?” He whispers against the top of your head. “You’d do that?”

“Of course we would.” You pull away from him and lovingly pat his chest. “Now finish eating and go cuddle with A.J., it’ll help. Plus, Mama’s gotta make herself another sandwich.”

Andy finishes his lunch, wipes his hands, and walks off to go snuggle with his baby boy.

By the time you join them in the living room with your food, you find A.J. once again fast asleep atop your husband’s chest, both of them snoring softly.

Grabbing another blanket, you cover both of them up before kissing their foreheads.

Sweet dreams, my loves.

END

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 months

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my how they fly

Fandom: Masters of the Air Rating: T Word Count: 1305

Summary: Bucky, Curt, and Buck wait out the fog.

So he didn’t wear out his welcome with his own crew, Bucky stowed his book and went wandering off into the fog. He heard Meatball’s bark once, off to his left, but he turned and saw nothing but the dense, wet air.

Gradually, he got voices, and when he thought they could hear his too, Bucky started in on “Blue Skies.” He rounded off the chorus as he stopped in front of Curt and Buck, awarding them a self-satisfied grin.

“It’s singin’ weather,” he announced.

Buck smiled indulgently.

“I can see why you got demoted.”

“Spoilsport,” Bucky accused. “I do it for your own good, Buck. For morale.”

“And ’cause you got a screw loose.”

Bucky’s grin broadened as he admitted, “Maybe so.”

“Heard youse guys had a good one while I was up in Scotland,” Curt broke in, watching them with a smile on his face. “Band, bikes, girls.”

“Your three favourite things,” Bucky observed.

“Not necessarily in that order.”

“You heard about John makin’ a fool— sorry,” Buck corrected himself with a smirk when Bucky thumped a hand to his heart, grasping at a phantom wound, “upholding morale, then, Curt?”

“I had ’em all on their feet!” Bucky claimed grandly.

“Yeah, because they were leaving. Trying to escape the racket.”

Bucky dismissed this review of his performance with a swatting wave.

“They were dancing,” he insisted to Curt.

“Can’t believe I missed it,” Curt groused.

“What’d you listen to that night? Bagpipes?”

“Bagpipes can really be a very sensual instrument. Nah, quit laughin’. That sort of whine… the drone… maybe, like, a wheeze? Christ, does it sound like I’m talkin’ about a plane engine?”

Bucky clapped him on the shoulder, lips tucked in as he braced the lieutenant for bad news.

“Sounds like you could do with spending less time in one of our forts and more time in a girl.”

“Or at least dancing with one,” Buck amended.

“Well, how ’bout you bring me up to speed while Bucky sings?” Curt proposed.

“Nah, I still don’t dance. Even with you, Curt.”

“You don’t gotta. I’ll do all the work.”

Curt grabbed for Buck’s hands, dancing toward and away from him.

“Music!” Curt demanded. “Music, please!”

But Bucky couldn’t sing while he was laughing so hard at Curt’s antics, the look on Buck’s face. Curt tried a twirl, raising Buck’s arm and twisting beneath it, the soles of his shoes grinding and crunching on the hardstand. When Buck still wouldn’t engage, despite the smile he was trying to hide, Curt gave him up and leapt at Bucky.

“Will ya?” he implored, lifting and shifting his feet in a sparky Lindy Hop.

“Been waitin’ for you to ask,” Bucky retorted.

They clasped hands, Curt’s left in Bucky’s right, and pranced together and apart.

“Bah duh duh bup bup bup bup ba-dah-dah-dah-dah dah dut duh,” Buck softly singsonged, launching into ‘In the Mood.’

“Oh, they’re playin’ our song, Curt!” Bucky cried out, passing his dance partner behind him, the two of them trying to keep a grip on each other’s fingers as Buck’s relatively tame accompaniment made them wild.

“Turn it up, Buck!” Curt shouted.

“Bah bah BAP buh-dah-duh!” Buck obliged, letting his voice carry as much as it could in the fog. “Duh-duh-duh-duh-duh, duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-dut, daaah, duh-duh-duh-duh-duh, duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-dut, bah-daaah.”

“That’s the stuff!”

Bucky spun Curt away with a push to his lower back. They came back together with a skip. Bucky could forget for a minute, and he let himself. It was what he’d been trying to do with his book, reading with his back propped up against the wheels but pretending it was the trunk of a tree someplace. In war, he figured, you needed grit, but you also needed a whole lotta imagination—sometimes to picture the right outcome at the end of a bad day, a bad hour, and sometimes just to see you through the wait before it happened. If there was a dance hall anywhere, it was right there, right then, him and Curt warming each other’s clammy fingers, the fog in which they were ensconced making Buck’s horn section all velvety at the edges. It wasn’t bicycles around the mess, there wasn’t any microphone stand, but they were alive and light-footed, and Germany seemed so very far off.

They didn’t call it off until Curt crouched, hands on his knees, and tried to coax Bucky into jumping over him.

“Run on up, then hands on my shoulders there, Bucky. I seen loads a’ guys do it,” he coached.

Another time, Bucky would’ve tried it, hurled himself over Curt’s head in one rowdy leap of faith, but it was all getting clear again in the fog. He’d take serious shit if either of them hurt themselves right before takeoff. He knew he already had a reputation for being less serious than he oughta be, but he’d hate to be so careless that they promoted him back up the ranks and quit letting him fly again.

“Alright, alright,” Curt said, defeated. Buck had cut the music.

Bucky and Curt shook hands like gentlemen, though Curt waggled a finger at him and said, “You owe me a big finish. A flip or a dip or somethin’, if you ain’t gonna jump over my head.”

“I’ll give it some thought,” Bucky promised.

“Don’t know what you got them long legs for otherwise.”

“For wearin’ long pants, mostly.”

Though Curt grinned at the bad joke, Bucky felt like he’d let him down, like he should’ve made him laugh. Buck seemed quietly thoughtful, and Bucky sensed in himself a readiness to face the inevitable day ahead, but Curt was different. He swore he was the clear-sighted, level-headed member of his crew that day. Bucky should’ve taken him at his word. It would’ve been easier to—to say, We’re both fine ’cause we gotta be. How much harder to let himself notice in Curt’s restlessness his own better-concealed agitation about the lack of visibility, the complexity of lining up the three task forces, all the variables that stood between their planes on this runway and touching down on a distant Algerian base. Bucky didn’t like it, when it came down to it: he didn’t like the three of them going up at the same time.

They stood around together a minute more, maybe each telling themselves they’d stayed as long as they could, maybe thinking they’d stayed too long and would look, to their three separate crews, reluctant or scared. It was bad luck to say much of a goodbye, but when Curt tried to drift off with nothing more than a stiff nod in response to Buck’s pledge to see him in Algeria, Bucky caught him and patted him on the back.

“Next time we dance, we’re gettin’ sand in our shoes,” he said.

Curt’s smile crept back up, and Bucky released him.

“What about you?” he asked Buck when they were alone.

“I don’t dance on any continent.”

“Not that.”

Buck looked at him. The thing with asking Buck a question was that whether or not he answered it was beside the point; he’d hold you in his calm stare until you wondered what business you had asking, and how you might answer were the same question directed at you.

“I’m fine, John,” Buck said. He squinted slightly, and Bucky, finally feeling a little too looked-at, glanced away. “We’re both fine.” ’Cause we gotta be.

Bucky nodded loosely.

“Sure are.”

If he were to put an arm around Buck now, he’d probably drag him to his plane and leave Buck’s crew up a creek without a paddle, so he just tossed his friend a wink and turned to go.

“Nothin’ but blue skies,” he sang, “from now on.”

Bucky heard Buck’s laugh behind him, rough and tender. Smiling, he plunged forward into the fog.

#my writing #Masters of the Air #MotA #John 'Bucky' Egan #Gale 'Buck' Cleven #Curtis Biddick

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dilfl0v3rss · 11 months

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hi coco, i want you to be honest w me and tell me if im in the wrong. So me and this boy, we're exes, but we got back together after a year of not dating, anyways i been hearing shit about him entertaining other bitches dah dah dah and obviously i questioned him about it, and this nigga just be crying to me telling me about how pp always b making rumors on his name, so i said okay and we moved pass that. Like a month passed after that right, tell me why my friend sent me a screenshot, that came off of his story that he BLOCKED me from seeing. and mind youuu she wasn't the one that screenshotted it, it was the other girl that idk about talm bout 'oh her man making her so mad rn.', and believe that shit had me heated. In the screnshot, it was him and these two girls, one of the girls was hugging him from BEHIND, and the caption said 'ye dawg.'SO i texted him, and i said 'yo, are you seeing other ppl?' he gon come talk bout no, why am i asking this and how weird the question, and i told him if he is he should tell me so we can end this now bcs ian rlly wanna waste my time and he continously told me no he's not seeing anyone else, so i send him the fucking picture. This dude is gonna come text my bomboclaat phone bout, "(girls name)" with a fucking rock emoji. so i said okay, bcs if i said anything else it woulda been very fucking disrespectful. then this nga proceeds to ask me if the person sent the picture personally, and istg coco i nearly sent him up under his mother, so i said yes. he say 'ohh make sense.' so i say cool. now he text me like five minutes later, "oh i need a break, tired." so i liked the motherfucking message bcs how the fuck do you need a break after you got caught lacking? and when i did ask him why he blocked me from the post, he's dogdging the question like bitch??

this whole thing just gave me flashbacks ong. the first red flag was the crying. i stg every time a nigga doing some weird shit and feel like shit ab to hit the fan he start crying and acting like the whole world against him. that nigga a whole weirdo fr and it’s time for him to goooo. if he dodging the question he gotta be doing and posting some shit that’ll cost y’all relationship and if it’s that deep then its time to dead that shit wit him and let the bitches have him fr fr. they gon lose em how they get em anyways!!

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rainbow-playhouse · 1 year

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hihi! Do u have any advice for kiddos looking to talk to other ppl in the community? I've been trying but it's kinda hard:(

Hewo!! Me sorry to say I don hav lotta advice for dah kinda stuff, M isn't relly good at talking to other peoples, sumtimes me make friends by jus sending people asks bout like how they are doings or bout their interests, or sumtimes jus remind den to and care of themselves an reminding dem dat dey are loved an sumtimes we become fwens, I'm sorry if that wasn't any help, I'm sure your an amazing kiddo an a amazing fwen, I hope chu have good day/night an good luck making fwens, an remember to take care of yourself and drink water <3 /p -🕸🕷

If anyone has advice for dis amazing person fee free to share :)

edit: it may also help to reblog tings or post tings often, dis way people know chu is active -🕸🕷

#fwens #syskid #sfw agere #agere #little alter #age regressor #sfw little blog

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no-bone-biscuits · 2 years

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"Sebastard Gets Plastered! The Danger of Alcohol Abuse." (2/2) ADDED GUIDE: How to calculate a demons BAC level

Last time on no-bone-biscuits...

A person is legally considered drunk (in dah USA) when their BAC level is 0.08% or above. Sebby boy scored a whopping 0.58%, making him well beyond the point of alcohol poisoning (0.25% - 0.39%) and a prime candidate for coma/death (0.40+)...... That is, for human standards.....

I JUST SAID THAT!!! Are you mocking me, Sebastian?! Looks like someone had one too many glasses of sassy sauce this evening. You better watch your tone mister! I'll have you arrested for in-public intoxication!!!

As I was saying, Sebastian isn't a human, he's a smart-mouthed prude.......and a demon, of course. We don't know if liquor has any effect on demons. Assuming it does, facts show Sebastian's BAC readings are false. "High possibility of death"?! If that's so, then explain how this twink is still ridiculing me!? ...... The only way of telling if Sebastard is truly plastered, is by analyzing his actions. Here's chapter 96.5

The verdict is in. Court final ruling; NOT DRUNK (but not sober, either)

Visual speaking, Sebastian is fine. His face isn't red or flushed, The only out of character actions I found are; referring to humans in the third person without the intent of revealing his true self. And being careless enough to the point where a person finds him "weird".

Over all he doesn't seem drunk to me. But I can't ignore his strange behaviors. It appears like the alcohol is influencing him just a tad. If I had to convert his BAC level to HuMaN StANdArds (as seb would say) I'll just squeeze a 0 in between the ones and the tenth place. His revised score would be 0.058 or 0.05.

Unfortunately, he's not drunk enough to go to jail. Though, he's drunk enough to feel some of these effects......makes sense to me, how bout you?

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #sebastian michaelis #headcanon #theory

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mowme0w · 1 year

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Songs that inspired me these days

Have you heard about Andy Mineo? How about PJ Morton? They're the most awesome singer, rappers, and songwriters ever! What I like about them is that they don't write something they don't experience. Not that cheesy, love, sweety, honey, bunny stuff. It's like, real stuff. I like it. Inspired me and it relates to me so much as I walk into the year of my early 30s!! Gosh, life is so fast..

Here are some of my favs!

Andy Mineo - None Of My Business (Lyrics)

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Yeah, if you don't like me, that's your problem When I let it bother me, that's my problem And I've got enough problems, I got enough I got the sauce, you got the salt What I care what you think about me 'Cause I don't think about you at all Real ones, they don't talk about you, they talk to you When they can't miss, yeah that's when they take a shot at you When they throw stones, then you know they don't rock with you Don't you ever let 'em know they talk down to you I'm 'bout my business (my) Father, my family, my hitters (you've) Never paid my bills, so Why pay attention?

That's none of my business (what they think 'bout me) That's none of my business (what they sayin' 'bout) That's none of my (that's none of my business) That's none of my (that's none of my business) That's none of my We don't really care what you talkin' 'bout That's none of my business (what they sayin' 'bout me, yeah) That's none of my business (what they think 'bout me, yeah) That's none of my (that's none of my business) That's none of my (that's none of my business) That's none of my We don't really care what you talkin' 'bout That's none of my business Dah, dah, dah, dah, dah, dah Dah, dah, dah, dah, dah, dah Yeah, if you don't like me, that's your problem (hey) When I let it bother me, that's my problem (aye) And I've got enough problems, look, I got enough Why everybody wanna take one up? You ain't prayed for me, you ain't take one up When they don't know the story they just make one up, aye Gossip, stop it, why you want to talk to me about it? Go tell he or she about it, that's none of my business, leave me out it 'stead of subtweetin' about it, don't FB just be about it You acting like a F Boyardee, if it weren't for God, I'd destroy your teeth I got anger issues Watch for the people that's hanging with you Bad company be corrupting the good character You supposed to own a company Instead you just sitting on your derriere in a pair of your boxers playing Warfare on your XBOX You work at a pet shop, still couldn't feed your terrier And on top, what's scarier is how you've been engaged for ten years and still haven't married her (err) My bad, I got sidetracked, look at me getting hypocrite, huh How I criticize then when I got my own van we'll be fixing? That's none of my business (what they think 'bout me) That's none of my business (what they say 'bout) That's none of my (that's not of my business) That's none of my (that's not of my business) That's none of my We don't really care what you talkin' 'bout That's none of my business (what they say 'bout me, yeah) That's none of my business (what they think 'bout me, yeah) That's none of my (that's none of my business) That's none of my (that's not of my business) That's none of my We don't really care what you talkin' 'bout That's none of my That's none of my That's none of my That's none of my That's none of my That's none of my

PJ Morton

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PJ Morton - Kid Again (Lyrics)

So, Three, what you wanna be when you grow up? Uh, I don't know but I'm thinkin' 'bout a basketball player Or, um, a singer, I don't know yet Okay, basketball or singer What 'bout you, Pay-Pay? What you wanna be? A piano player A piano player? What, are you gonna be like a big-a big star? Yeah Yeah Like his-like you Like me? Yeah

I'm goin' back to all those dreams I once had Before I let all these things in my head My eight-year-old self would be so disappointed 'Cause I'm startin' to doubt everything we say, mmm

But sometimes life gets hard and you just don't know You could still do all those things you dreamed of before You don't need to grow up, that's the beginning of the end You just need to believe like a kid again Like a kid again, kid again You just need to believe like a kid again

Sometimes I just wish I didn't know what I know, mmm I used to believe in the impossible But at some point, I started to trust in only what I see When, honestly, my faith is really over me, ooh

But sometimes life gets hard and you just don't know You could still do all those things you dreamed before You don't need to grow up, that's the beginning of the end You just need to believe like a kid again Like a kid again, kid again You just need to believe like a kid again Like a kid again, kid again You just need to believe like a kid again

#songs that inspired me #inspiring #andymineo #pj morton #songs #Youtube

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