No Rizz. Just Big Bambi Eyes And Many Unsettling Things To Say.

Undercover Care

as a young, broke senior in high school, you take up a babysitting gig, not knowing you’d be babysitting a mafia bosses sons.

That morning you woke up at 5. The drive to his house was about twenty minutes so you had so if you wanted to get there in time you would have to leave by 8:35. That meant three hours to get ready and 35 minutes to relax. You spent the first 35 minutes in the kitchen, sipping at a warm cup of hot chocolate. You never really liked coffee, so you just stuck to hot chocolate.

After that you spent the first hour trying to put together a nice outfit. After a bit you settled on a nice pair of loose jeans, a simple t-shirt, one of your dad’s old jackets, and your old pair of converse. You played it all out on your bed before hopping in the shower, spending a little extra time to make sure your hair would look nice. After the shower it was about 7:00, meaning you had an hour and 35 minutes left.

You yawned quietly, quickly making yourself some scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast with a yogurt cup on the side. You ate slowly, trying to drag the time out a little. You didn’t really have anything else to do, so dragging the time out seemed to be the only thing left. After eating you cleaned all the dishes you used, putting back the plate you had used last night before checking the time. Only 7:43, which meant you had about 50 minutes just to yourself, give or take. You hummed quietly, going to the living room and turning on the tv. You flipped through channels before finding a cartoon, Monster High. You set the remote down, watching the episode. You were starting to feel anxious.

What if they didn’t like you? You needed this job if you wanted to go to college. Right now you were barely scraping by. Yeah your dad helped occasionally but it wasn’t enough sometimes. You sighed, messing with the hem of your t-shirt as you go lost in thought. You bit your bottom lip, lost in thought for majority of your time left. Once it was time to go, you got up and put your shoes on before going outside, making sure you had your car keys in your pocket before you left.

You got in your car, connecting your phone to the car to play your music. You hit shuffle on a random playlist before starting to drive, the directions pulled up on your phone screen. You yawned, still slightly tired. You never were fully a morning person, not even when you were a little kid. You bopped your head to the music playing, smiling when Beth (Eric Carr’s version) by KISS started playing. You had always loved older music, especially songs by KISS. You turned the volume up, mouthing the words as you followed the directions your phone was giving you.

Eventually, you pulled up to the house. If you could call it that. It was practically a mansion with how huge it was. You stared in shock as you turned your car off and got out. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. What if you were too underdressed? What if they thought you weren’t professional enough? Or maybe they would think you were too young and couldn’t take care of them. Your hands shook as you walked towards the door, raising your hand to knock somewhat loudly. You took another deep breath, still trying to calm your nerves. You were definitely under dressed. What were you thinking! Jeans and a t-shirt? You cursed yourself out in your head, biting your lip again. Maybe this job wasn’t such a good idea. Your thoughts were cut off when someone opened the door. A young blond wearing a red and white baseball tee with some grass stained jeans.

“O-oh. Hello. Is um, Philza here?” You asked nervously, doubting that the boy in front of you was the man you spoke to on the phone last night. “Dad! Someone’s here for you!” The kid called into the house, still looking at you a bit suspiciously. “Why are you here?” He asked suddenly. “I’m here for a job?” You said, cursing yourself out for sounding so nervous. “What job?” The boy asked, scrunching his face up in confusion. “Um-“ “Tommy leave the poor girl alone.” An older voice said, sounding just like the man you talked to last night. You immediately stood up straighter, biting your lip nervously. “You must be Y/n. Come on in.” The man said, gently ushering the blond kid away.

You nodded and stepped inside, looking around a bit. The hallway you were in didn’t seem too fancy, as there was shoes thrown all over the corner and some sports gear draped over a bench. “I apologize for Tommy, he’s fast when someone’s at the door. We usually don’t get visitors or guests, so he gets excited.” You jumped when you heard his voice. “Oh, it’s alright. I was young once too.” You said, trying to be playful. Phil smiled, starting to walk further into the house. You quickly followed, keeping an even pace behind him. Not too far behind, but still a bit behind.

You looked around more as Phil led you through the house. “I apologize for any mess you see, mate. The cleaning lady hasn’t gotten here yet.” Phil said suddenly, noticing you look around. You smiled slightly. “No worries. Kids make messes, it’s understandable.” Phil smiled when you said this, leading you into a fancy looking office. You bit your lip. What job did this man have that allowed him to have this much money? Maybe you were biting off more than you could chew…

(Here’s part two! Sorry this one took so long, I had a bit of school work to catch up on and it took some time.)

Wilbur Soot Situation

So, with all that’s going on with Wilbur and the apology today and everyone not wanting to associate with him, I’d like to say some things.

Wilbur has been a huge comfort for me for the past 3-4 years, and I have a hard time letting go of things. So while I won’t be as willing to write for CC!Wilbur, I’d still be willing to write for C!Wilbur, or any other AU that isn’t CC!, as I will consider them separate characters

I am torn by the news, and I was really hoping that Wilbur wasn’t actually Shubbles abuser, but with his ‘apology’, I’d like to no longer associate with CC!Wilbur until he is willing to actually accept the consequences and apologize properly.

I know I haven’t been writing for long, and I know I haven’t actually written for Wilbur yet, but if you would like to request for him, it can’t be CC!Wilbur.

okay, poll because im curious.

tell me why in the comments or tags, and feel free to be as brief or as lengthy as you want to. i'm just really intruiged as to why some of these characters attracted you.

oh, and reblog for reach please!

Who I Write For

Supernatural

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Adam Milligan

Jack Kline

Benny Lafitte

Rowena MacLeod

Chuck Shurely

Charlie Bradbury

Castiel

Lucifer

Micheal

Gabriel

Walker

Cordell Walker

Liam Walker

Stella Walker

August Walker

Tracker

Russell Shaw

Colter Shaw

Big Sky

Beau Arlen

Devour

Jake Grey

My Bloody Valentine (2008)

Tom Hanniger

Axel Palmer

Harry Warden

Gilmore Girls

Dean Forester

Luke Danes

Jess Mariano

Tristan Dugray

Rory Gilmore

Ten Inch Hero

Priestly

Tish

Piper

Jen

This list will update with my interests! Don’t be disappointed if one thing disappears! My interests change after a while and if I feel like I can’t write the characters well enough I might just take them off the list

REBLOG IF ITS OKAY TO TALK TO YOU.

Please.

reblog only if you’ve received less than 1000 boops! we can all get each other to “max”

The Black Phone Incorrect Quotes

Finney: flapping my hands isn’t enough I need to scream

Vance: What can therapy do for me that screaming in my car for 30 minutes can’t?

Robin: No, this is not a mess. You know what I consider a mess? Finney: Your life? Robin: I- well yes, but-

Bruce: You might not know this, Finney, but I am a flawed person. Finney: I do know that.

Griffin: You need a hobby. Robin: I have a hobby! Griffin: Fawning over Finney isn’t a hobby.

Bruce: What are your three best qualities? Robin: I’m hot, I have soft hair, and sometimes I cry because I love my friends.

Griffin: Hey, you want a tarot reading? Bruce: Those are Pokemon cards. Griffin: You got a magikarp. Bruce: … Griffin: It means 'fuck you'.

Vance: shatters a window and climbs through it Vance: turns around and helps Finney through it Breaking and entering is wrong Finney. Finney: Okay.

Robin: I am convinced Griffin and Billy share a brain cell. Finney: And it's not in use very often, it seems.

Griffin: Did you bring Vance? Bruce, gesturing to Finney: No, but I brought the next best thing. Griffin: Finney? The next best thing would be Robin. Finney: I would be offended, but Robin is freakishly strong.

Vance: I fell— Bruce: From heaven? Vance: No, I literally fell— Bruce: In love with me the moment you saw me? Vance: MY ARM IS BROKEN! Bruce: Okay, but do you think I'm pretty? Be honest.

Robin: I told Vance that their ears turn red when they lie. Bruce: Do they? Robin: No. Bruce: Then why did you tell them that? Robin: Because I can do this. Robin: Hey Vance! Do you love us? Vance, with their hands over their ears: No.

Finney: I know what you're up to. Robin: Really? Because I barely know.

Finney: When I first got my autism diagnosis, my first thought was “woah… it’s canon” and I think that maybe thoughts like that is why Bruce made me get tested.

Billy, making coffee: This is going to fix everything.

Finney: It's locked. You got a lock pick? Bruce: Yeah- Robin: kicks in the door

Insta posts with Bench Trio

Tommy

Tubbo

Ranboo

Undercover Care

as a young, broke senior in high school, you take up a babysitting gig, not knowing you’d be babysitting a mafia bosses sons.

You sighed quietly, looking over the job listings on the website one more time. Most of the jobs wanted people with experience, something you didn’t have, so finding a job was…a little difficult to say the least.

You wanted something simple too, just something to get you off your feet, not some crazy over the top job that drained you more often than not. You ran a hand through your hair, jumping slightly when you got a notification about a new job being posted. You hover your mouse over the listing before clicking.

The notification took a second to load but once it did you started reading. A babysitting gig. You hummed, looking over the details. 3 kids, ages 21, 22, and 16, access to food while working, $8,000 a week, bedroom if need- $8,000 a week!? You blinked, rubbing your eyes to see if they were playing a trick on you. Nope. $8,000 a week. What kind of rich fucker was this guy? $8,000? For three kids? Scratch that, two of them weren’t even kids anymore, and they still needed to be watched?

You looked over the details one more time. “I mean…it’s not a bad option…” you mumbled to yourself, clicking on the contact number. You copied it down into your phone, dialing and calling as soon as you did. You took a deep breath, listening as your phone rang. Tragically, you couldn’t help but hope the guy wouldn’t pick up. Awful, you know. But you were a nervous wreck. You were only 19, so what if he didn’t hire you? What if he wanted someone with experience? Or someone older? What if-

you were cut off by the sound of the phone being picked up. “Hello? Who is this?” The man on the other side asked. “Um, hi. My names Y/n and I was um…looking at the babysitting position?” You winced slightly at how awkward you sounded, although it probably sounded worse over the phone. “Ah yes! I didn’t expect someone to respond so quickly!” The man said cheerfully. “My names Philza Minecraft. It’s lovely to meet you, mate.” He said. You smiled, at least he was a nice guy. “Uh yeah. Nice to meet you too.” You said, feeling a bit less awkward.

“Now, my boys can be…how do I put this…rough. They don’t really like new people, so you will have to win them over. If they don’t see you fit within a month, sadly I would have to let you go.” The man, Philza, explained. You nodded before remembering he couldn’t see you, so you just let out a hum. “First question, how well do you deal with high stress situations?” The question caught you slightly off guard. “I’d say I’m pretty good?” You said, shrugging to yourself. “And what about cooking? Can you cook well?”

You thought to yourself for a second. “Yeah I’m a pretty good cook.” You and your mom used to spend two nights a week learning a new recipe together, you even still have her old cookbook that she gave you before the divorce. “Wonderful! Now, how old are you?” He asked, making you panic slightly. “I-I’m 19, sir.” You said nervously, biting your lip. “Perfect! You’re hired.” Your jaw dropped slightly. That easy? “O-okay. When should I come in?” You asked, getting over the shock quickly. “Come in tomorrow at 9. I’ll have a schedule for you by then. I’ll text you the address.”

You smiled to yourself. “Thank you so much sir.” “Please, call me Phil, mate.” He said, his tone cheerful. “Before you go, what are your boys’ names?” You asked curiously. “Ah, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy.” He told you. You smiled. “Alright. I can’t wait to meet them tomorrow.” You said happily. “Well it was nice talking to you, but I have got to go to a meeting soon.” He said, the sound of rustling on the other side of the phone. “I understand. Have a good day Phil.” You said, pulling the phone away from your ear as you hung up.

You say there for a second, processing the fact that you, a 19 year old, now had a job. A really, really good paying job. You cheered to yourself, standing up from the chair quickly. “Hell yeah! I’m employed!” You said happily, spinning around a little bit. It took you about 5 minutes to calm down, but excitement was still running through your veins. You had a job now! You smiled to yourself, going to the kitchen to make food before you started getting ready for bed. You made something simple, just some chicken tenders and sweet ‘n sour sauce. You sat down on the couch, placing your plate on your lap and you grabbed the remote, flipping to a random cartoon channel. You ate in peace, going through all the possible outfits you could wear tomorrow.

You say there for a bit, almost just snacking on your now somewhat cold food. Once you finished, you turned the tv off, going to the kitchen to wash your plate before going to bed. You hummed to yourself as you cleaned, still going through all your possible outfits you wanted to look professional but also not too professional, you were only 19 after all. You set the plate on the drying rack and dried your hands, jogging slightly as you went to your room. You quickly changed before going to the bathroom to brush your teeth, looking yourself over in the mirror. After getting fully ready you finally got in bed, the buzz under your skin finally going away. You fell asleep peacefully, excited for tomorrow.

(This is going to be a series! I’ve had the idea in my mind for a while so I thought it would be nice to write it out!)