#starter • now i’m just the girl that overshared.

[libbystcwart]

who: LIBBY & OPEN. 🥗

where: fresh.

when: sometime during lunch hours.

Now that Libby was back in Merrock after taking some time away to visit her parents back in Georgia, she noticed that a few locations popped up in town while she was gone. Seeing that there was a vegan restaurant located on the coast, she wanted to check it out for herself. "What would you recommend eating here?" Libby asked aloud, hoping that someone sitting near her would hear as she looked at the menu that was placed in front of her. "I've been wanting to try some new foods that I haven't had before and eating vegan food is not something I usually do." @merrock

[mayalevesque]

{ sky ferreira ♔ twenty-four ♔ she/her } well, well, well if it isn’t maya levesque running around peach hollow. legend has it, they come from blueberry boulevard and have lived here for four years. if you’re wondering what they’ve been up to, i hear they’re a baker at get baked for a living. they have been known to be condescending yet charming. a word of advice to them, always look over your shoulder. you never know who is watching. 

(hi!! i’m bella :) i haven’t participated in an rp for a hot minute so i am still kinda re-learning some things etc., but overall i am super excited! with that being said, maya is a fairly new muse for me. the last time i used to rp, i always played the easygoing, sweet character. maya, however, is not quite as easygoing or sweet, so she is very different for me! she’s a tough girl, but she is sensitive and has a big heart. there is nothing i want more than to plot with you! i am literally down for practically anything. anyway, here is her intro + some wanted connections. thank u for reading <3) 

her birthday is september 10th, 1995

she grew up in santa cruz, california

maya’s parents were artists, but they were not at all successful. because of this, money was tight. her parents often “borrowed” money from other relatives

speaking of her parents, the two were both addicted to drugs and did not treat maya well to say the absolute least. in fact, they didn’t treat each other well either. they broke up at least a dozen times during her adolescence

in high school, maya struggled with her grades + did not participate in any extracurricular activities (although she enjoyed playing the guitar)

she never really had a close group of friends because she was scared of getting attached to anybody

she has never been in a **real** relationship either. she has slept with her fair share, but she never let herself get too close to any of them

she is a bisexual queen

if u have not noticed she kinda has a “trust no one” attitude lmao

she dropped out of high school with only six months left before graduation because she felt that school just wasn’t for her (she lowkey regrets it now but it’ll take a lot for her to admit to it because she stubborn as hell)

got her first job when she was fourteen, worked as a cashier at a touristy ice cream shop

she began working her second job at age eighteen. the work paid so well that she didn’t even need her first job anymore... she quit her second job only months after being hired, but she still added a shit ton of cash to her savings because of it

on a whim, maya used all of her savings to move far away from her toxic home to start all over. and here she is!!

maya thought that things would be different when she moved away, but they weren’t. she still had to deal with her trauma and her trust issues. to this day, it is still not an easy task to get close to maya

she puts up a somewhat mean front so people don’t try too hard to get to know her, but in reality she is very soft and caring<333

she has recently begun going to therapy because she knew that she couldn’t carry her burden any longer, and she knew that she needed help

works at get baked as a baker 

wanted connections:

roommate(s): a few roommates sounds so fun!! it would make sense too bc maya spent most of her savings moving to peach hollow and it would be realistic for her to have to split the rent. angst + tension? or a best friendship waiting to happen? plus adding the roommates factor into it? genius. also im likely going to make a pinterest for maya too so a collaborative bedroom pinterest board >>>>>

friendships: maya doesn’t make friends easily, but after four years of living in peach hollow, she is bound to make a few! they may not know everything about her tho, but she may feel inclined enough to enlighten them someday

someone who pushes her to get her mf GED: self explanatory basically! this would be a rocky relationship bc maya would def tell them to mind their own business etc. but only because she doesn’t wanna accept the fact that she’s unhappy, and getting her GED could help her in the longrun (mercy)

lover(s) and/or ex fling(s): people she has slept with or maybe even got attached to/loved but is afraid to admit. could be ongoing or something that happened in the past! we love the angsty/crying gifs don’t we??

The One She Falls In Love With: lmaoo this can be reciprocated or unreciprocated. either one will bring so much tension and drama and goooodddd i love the drama so either way it would be a Dream. help her trust people! or break her heart! or both??? the possibilities are endless

ex-friends/frenemies: maya can piss people off easily so if u feel your character and maya’s don’t mesh well, may i recommend a frenemy plot? i luv those..im also a sucker for rekindling friendships and frenemies to bff tropes so its perfect

regular customers: this sounds p standard but here’s a Twist: it would be cool if maya could like..talk to a drunk/high customer and the two end up oversharing things about themselves and then it becomes a whole big Thing the next time the customer comes back sober ya know?? then from there the plot ideas are literally limitless period. idk its 3 am what im writing no longer makes sense so i will end this here lol

NOTE: u can dm me on discord to plot but i most likely will get back to you faster on tumblr messages. i do not mind either though, just letting yall know! :) thanks again for reading!! (also one last note + fair warning i SUCK at starters. wish me luck :*)

[casandpuppies]

October Destiel AU Challenge: Day 13 - Would You Like to Buy Some Honey?

31 Days of Destiel Drabbles: Day 21 Day 13 - Farmer’s Market

Of all the places that Dean wants to be on a Saturday morning, this place is just about last on the list. For starters, it’s nine o’ clock and he doesn’t have to work today, so he could still be sleeping right now. Hell, if he’s going to be awake anyway, he’d almost rather be at work. At least he enjoys working on cars.

This…this is a different story entirely. He eyes the scene in front of him with suspicion. There’s vendors everywhere and far more people than Dean thinks is reasonable for what’s basically a glorified grocery store. A group of people picks that moment to pass by them, nearly running him over in the process. Looks to be the rich, hipster type. Same as probably literally everyone here, because who else would spend this much money on goddamn vegetables? He scowls at them and then turns the look on Sam. Sam, the whole reason he’s out of bed and here this early in the morning on a precious day off.

“There’s supermarkets for a reason, Sam.”

Sam just gives Dean one of his patented you uncultured swine how are we even related looks. “Yeah, but farmer’s markets are better, because all the stuff is fresh and local and handmade and you can’t get that at Walmart. It’s better for you, it tastes better, and it supports the local economy.”

In response, Dean rolls his eyes and makes an unconvinced grunt. “Okay, I get it, you’re a tree-hugging hippy, but the food at real stores tastes fine, hasn’t killed me yet, and it doesn’t cost half my paycheck.”

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Sam says in that passive-aggressive tone of his. Like Dean actually had a choice in the matter. Like he chose to come of his own free will. Like Dean’s constitution is any match for Sam’s puppy eyes and incessant pleading, even after all these years. Especially when he had to go and involve his ridiculous and disgusting crush on Eileen and then proceed to stroke Dean’s ego by complimenting his cooking skills. So of course Dean is going to help his little brother impress Eileen by helping him cook an epic dinner for their weekly get-together. And if that means Sam wants to cook with all this fancy, organic crap, then Dean will grin and bear it. Doesn’t mean he has to like it, though.

“I was promised pie,” Dean replies skeptically, because he sure as hell doesn’t see any pie so far. “Of course I had to come if there’s pie involved.”

Sam makes an annoyed huffing sound. “You’ll get your pie,” he says, beckoning Dean forward. “Now come on, you’re the one who insisted I shouldn’t be let near a kitchen, so help me pick stuff.”

Dean sighs, but follows after Sam, anyway. It’s going to be a long day.

--

Sam may be right to some extent when he talks about how Dean is the one with all the natural talent in the kitchen, but even he can only do so much when he’s never even heard of half of this shit, before. What even is arugula? It sounds like a Harry Potter spell.

Although, he has to admit that he’s seen some pretty nice stuff. Maybe not so superior in quality that he’d come all the way across town and pay twice as much, but still. He’s snatched up some nice lettuce and tomatoes because that stuff always goes good on burgers and he’s still hoping he might convince Sam to let him make his famous burgers for dinner.

But he still stands by his thought that a farmer’s market is a hipster’s wet dream. Not only are there countless stands with produce and nuts and other foods, but he’s seen several vendors selling those hippie bags and paintings and even some hats, to name a few of the crafts. He doesn’t keep up with what kids do these days, but he can imagine this is the kind of place the kids might “Instagram” about. It’s…kind of disgustingly cute, if he’s being honest.

Still no pie though. Maybe he’s supposed to buy apples or pecans or whatever and make his own pie, but he feels that’s definitely cheating the rules and he doesn’t intend to let Sam get away with that.

It’s been about half an hour since he got separated from Sam, and he never imagined this place would be big enough that finding a giant like his brother would be an issue. Somehow, he has a feeling Sam’s avoiding him on purpose, because Sam is a big nerd who’s probably having the time of his life here.

“Can I help you find something?” a deep voice calls out to him, making Dean realize he’s been standing in front of this tent without moving for longer than is probably socially acceptable. Turning towards the voice, he sees a dark-haired man sitting under a yellow awning, and regarding him with a pleasant smile and curious, blue eyes. He’s actually young, and pretty damn good-looking, if Dean does say so himself, which kind of breaks his (admittedly unfair and untrue) stereotype of all these vendors being old farmers and lonely, rich housewives. At least he doesn’t look one of these new-age hippie types.

Dean clears his throat, embarrassed to be caught standing around like an idiot. “Nah, man, just looking for my brother. He dragged me here and sent me on a mission to help him find the perfect ingredients for a dinner he wants to make to impress his girlfriend. And he ran away from me, and now I kinda have no idea what I’m doing.” Why on earth he feels compelled to overshare is beyond him, but fortunately the guy just nods along like he’s interested, saving Dean some degree of awkwardness, and then he smiles.

“Well, if you’re at a loss for ingredients, I could suggest something,” he says, gesturing to the table in front of him, “but you might think it big-headed of me.”

Only now does Dean take the time to actually look and see what this guy’s selling. He doesn’t seem like the super artsy and crafty kind of guy, but he doesn’t necessarily seem like a farmer, either. Of course, in all fairness, there’s not a specific “type” these kinds of people have to fit into, so Dean can’t really judge by looks alone.

Turns out, there’s a whole army of jars, arranged in a few neat little lines along the table, from bigger sizes in the back to smaller sizes in the front. Each jar is filled with a thick amber liquid, which Dean recognizes after a moment.

“Honey?” He raises an eyebrow. The label reads ‘Castiel Novak Apiaries,’ and has a phone number and address written underneath, with a little cartoon bee drawn off to the side. “You made all this?”

The man—Castiel or Casteel or however the hell he pronounces it—chuckles. “Well, technically, I didn’t make it. The bees get the credit for that. I just harvested it. But yes, I’m Castiel, which is what I assume you were getting at.” He sticks his hand out across the table in kind of an awkward motion.

“Of course.” Dean snorts, but takes the offered hand and shakes it. “Dean. And as tempting as it is, I don’t think my brother would appreciate me coming back with nothing but honey. Can’t really do much with it, you know?”

Castiel tilts his head and gives Dean what can only be described as a challenging look. “On the contrary. I’m told my honey makes very good apple pies.”

He perks up at the mention of pie. “Now you’re just trying to bribe me, I swear.”

Castiel grins and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, before letting his eyes very obviously rove over Dean’s body. “You look like the kind of guy who appreciates pie.”

“So you are trying to bribe me.” If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say that was a flirtatious remark. Not that he’s opposed to the idea, of course, but why would this guy even be interested?

Castiel shrugs innocently. “I am trying to sell a commodity, here. Is it working, or do I need to discuss other benefits of honey?” Okay, that was definitely an attempt at flirting.

Dean tries to resist the urge to roll his eyes. So maybe the guy isn’t a hippie or hipster or an old farmer, but he is kind of weird. Weird in an awkward, dorky way. Weird in an almost endearing way. He leans closer to the table and picks up one of the jars, turning it over in his hands. He decides to try his own form of Winchester charm and see how that does. “I don’t know, man, the mention of pie has almost got me sold, but how do I know you’re telling the truth? You don’t have any pie to prove it.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Castiel raises an eyebrow and the corner of his lips pull up into a little smile. He crosses his arms. “I suppose I’ll just have to make you one.”

Dean mirrors Castiel’s smile, and his eyes are probably lighting up at the prospect of a maybe-date and pie. “Oh, is that so? You’re quite the dedicated salesman.”

By the time Sam finally finds Dean, Dean’s gotten a number, a time and place, and another probably addition to their family dinners in the future. Sam spends the rest of the day bemoaning Dean’s ability to forget what he’s supposed to be doing in favor of picking up a hot guy or girl at any chance he gets. Dean know that Sam isn’t mad, though, because it turns out that Castiel—or Cas, as Dean finds out he prefers—is actually a damn good cook.

[deathfound-a]

Kenzi Sentence Starters

Below are some quotes said by the character Kenzi from the show Lost Girl

“Learn to enjoy your shit already!”

“My head is pounding harder than a sailor on shore leave.”

“Ladies, start your vajayajays.”

“Regret is for suckaz, bitch.”

“Ah! I’m too cute to die!”

“I can handle scary monsters, okay? But privilege creeps me out.”

“You did not just insult the boots.”

“Oh sweet, sweet, Susan. I’m so scared I can’t even swear right now.”

“Hey, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

“Tell me, your name isn’t Dickface, King of the Douchbags, is it?”

“I’d say my lady was single and ready to crotch mingle.”

“Why do I taste like shampoo?”

“Turns out ‘girls night’ was code for drink until your face falls off and you start oversharing.”

“I think I touched a boob.”

“God, my bullshit detector totally failed!”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I was aiming for your boob!”

“You’re officially the most disgusting man alive. Wow!”

“Did you bring home elves last night? I’m not judging, I just wanna know.”

“Great! Just what every girl needs, a matching set of dead guys.”

“Who doesn’t drink coffee?! It’s not just a drink, it’s a hug!”

“The good news is: I’m still alive. The bad news: bitches be crazy.”

“You’d be surprised how many of my transactions involve power tools.”

“Can you get asthma?! I think I’m totally getting asthma here!”

“Are you seriously going to pretend that wasn’t the funniest shit in the history of both ‘funny’ and ‘shit?”

“I want a unicorn!”

“I feel like a wet dog moved into my mouth and had puppies.”

“Teen angst, our greatest foe.”

“I look like college.”

“I’m sorry, small towns make me nervous.”

“Work for a living? Do I look like a chump?”

[libbystcwart]

who: LIBBY & OPEN.

where: a mansion.

when: during the masquerade party.

In Libby's opinion, the Halloween Masquerade had been fun but it was exhausting. Her feet started to hurt and her ears were ringing from all the music and constant chatter around her. She adjusted her mask, hating how it clung to her face. Libby settled on one of the vacant chairs in the lounge area on the ground floor, trying to catch her breath. She removed her mask and patted her face with a soft facial tissue she kept in her clutch. "Attending a masquerade ball is not for the faint of heart," she joked, looking at the nearest person. "This mansion looks pretty amazing, though. I love how they dressed it up for the occasion."

[scorpioslut-blog1]

Stupid social media

It’s probably been a year... two years... who knows? I’m still at college or whatever, oversharing with pseudo anonymity on tumblr, incapable of journaling like normal or dedicated depressed emo art hoes have been doing for centuries... 

Anyways, I guess I went off social media mostly for the first time in my life... temporarily deactivated twitter (until christmas) and instagram (until further notice), still have my finsta which i'm sworn off of, my spam ~aesthetic~ account which literally keeps me going, my art acct which is sort of stagnant as the moment as i dive into my new hobby/class mandated photography obsession, and my new food diary instagram which is pretty lame and literally just for me to reflect on eating habits. oh i'm on adderall right now. which i looove... it just feels good, ur mind feels good, u think hard but like i feel like i could write a novel, clean my room, text everyone i need to catch up with, or i dont know, write on tumblr like a teenager (i’m 21 fucking years old now). Anyway I’ve been thinking a lot recently about anger.... anger as a coping mechanism, justified anger, repressed anger, anger at yourself, hatred for yourself. anger that is productive and unproductive. at cal, anger at white people, at men, at the world, at people. i’m also thinking a lot about paul, the founder of the palestine decal that i’m taking. and how he spoke to our class on tuesday and explained how israelis, like 18 year olds in the IDF, are taught to hate, are conditioned to hate--not even hate--dehumanize. like how by the time an israeli teenager turns 18 they have already been trained for the military--not physically, but psychologically--to see palestinians as less than human. he frames settler colonialism and israeli occupation of palestine as not an ethnic conflict, not ideological, not religious, or cultural--but about LAND. israelis are murdering, dispelling, bombing, etc. palestinians for the cold, painfully simple reason that they are on land that israel wants. it is not because israelis hate palestinians. while that may be true for many individuals, in which israelis may be racist or islamophobic or for whatever reason hate palestinians or see them as less than, that thought process is a result of government conditioning and hegemony. while america is, in some ways, its own unique case study of cultural, religious, ethnic, social, economic “diversity”, paul also said that we’re all the same. in that, there is nothing unique about the palestine/israel instance compared to, say, the british in south africa. or in india. or australia. or the US in the americas or hawaii or the caribbean. there is nothing unique about palestine/israel, except that their colonization was put in a historical context so close to our current timeframe that we are forced to analyze it as if it were an anomaly. but that’s besides the point. anyway, anger. and hate. in america, it made me think a lot about two communities i was somewhat a part of, whether i felt like it or not---percussionville and berkeley. and how similar they are, and how different i feel in both. back home, i was so angry. i was soooo angry. angry at my parents for putting me there, angry at the people i went to school with, angry at admin, at my teachers, at my peers, at boys, at girls, at white people, at the government, just angry. and i stayed angry in college. i removed myself from that environment but still it haunted me. i never let go of that anger, it blinded me, i couldnt even allow myself to process those four years. and i was still so colonized and following a series of unfortunate events, or fate, or my own hypocrisy or internalized white supremacy, i was surrounded by all white friends, while still trying to understand my own relationship to whiteness, how i was similar to my white friends but also how they could never understand. so i was just blindly angry at white people--and after i stopped being friends with them, anger was almost how i coped. and the poc friends i found myself building relationships with shared this anger, encouraged it. they were angry too, for different reasons but also the same, in different contexts, different levels of anger, manifestations, outbursts, and copings. it was easy to hate these individual white people. before, it was easy for me to hate the idea of white people. in high school i hated white people, but i was always surrounded by them, friends with them because there were no other options really. i mean, i was literally living in it. people here don’t get that, i think, except other poc who really were that heavily immersed in that. like i didnt have a choice. isolation is hard. i spent a lot of high school alone, of course, but i'm a social creature no matter how hard i try and fight it. and this summer i think the idea of hating individual white people for the ways in which they wronged you was almost glorified. and i understand that people are angry. but our anger is all different. i can never even begin to understand the anger of a Black person, especially a Black woman, or a woman who has been sexualized constantly for her beauty, objectified and harassed her whole life, or someone who is currently decolonizing and realizing how much they had ignored or allowed their whole lives... these are just examples of people i think about when i try to think about others’ anger. but my anger is my own. i experience it in my own ways; i have been angry my whole life. i think i came out of the womb angry. i've always just been an angry person, and been suppressing it my whole life. that resulted in me mostly being angry at myself my whole life. and the world. i've had healthy anger, misplaced anger, toxic anger, unjustified anger, genetic anger. and i truly believe that healing is knowing how to cope with this lifelong anger, anguish, sadness. i was angry this summer. i was angry because it seemed like the only way to cope, to be angry at the people who i had failed to set boundaries with, people i had hurt, people who had hurt and confused me. angry at white people, men, starting drunken fights at parties, outside bars... 

anyway, that was a huuuge tangent but my point is. in relation to the palestine decal guy, paul. he’s a few years older than us, and he was clearly still angry as well. angry at the university, for starters, angry at hypocrisy. but the surprising thing to me was that he did not seem angry at israelis. which is a good thing. and he has every right to be angry, to hate the 18 year old IDF soldier, despite the fact that this might be all they’ve ever known, despite the fact that hate is taught, despite the fact that there might not be anything to make that soldier change, or to change how they see paul. but he wasn’t angry. he didn’t blame individuals. he said this was structural, that zionism was not judaism, despite the constant conflation of the two, especially at cal, especially with people who sit in the same classrooms as us every day. it’s easy to be angry. i’ve been angry at so many people. and i have always accepted that i am flawed, i hurt others, people are angry at me. but i don’t know. i don’t know how it is productive for me to be angry. most recently i got angry at felix. and i definitely am still frustrated by him and don’t think it’s even worth talking about at the moment, or that i have the capacity, but i don’t want to be angry at him. i love him, miss him, wish him the best. just texted him that i miss him actually. anyway, on anger--i tried to make him hold my anger, and just sort of lashed out on him over text. which isnt really productive. at the time i was going through a lot with other people, and i think i was so frustrated with always being painted the bad guy that i wanted someone else to hold my anger. i have held others’ anger, and tried to understand it, so i guess i just wanted someone to do the same for me. it did feel good to yell at him honestly. but anyway. back to my point. 

i think about where i'm from, where i grew up, and i have to claim it. i’ve been so angry for the past two years, running away from that place and everything about it. coming to a place that seemed so drastically different at first, but eventually realizing that everywhere is, in many ways, the same. like paul said. i can’t be angry at felix, even if it’s warranted, even if my friends applaud me on the text i sent him. i mean i can. i can be angry at my old friends. but i dont know. i just am so so tired. i'm old. i'm 21. 

[libbystcwart]

✨ - the crystal gala • open starter (no cap)

Libby was never one for finery, nor has she ever been so dressed up save for maybe her wedding day. The Crystal Gala made Libby feel like she needed to up her game and really put herself out there. In a sea of garish color and avant-garde fashion, Libby felt like she was completely out of her league. Nevertheless, she would do anything for a good cause, especially for Lake Malory. Libby was near the open bar, hands holding an old fashioned as she looked around. Her eyes caught a familiar figure and she felt her lips curving into a smile, making her way over to them. "They really went all out for this Gala," she spoke as she realized that the longer she explored the event, the more she was amazed at how intricate the decorations were. "Are you having fun so far?"

[libbystcwart]

Y’know, I’ve been living in Merrock for years now, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the slang here ‘cause it’s so different from where I grew up. “Wicked Smart” still has to be my favorite, though. My accent still makes it sound unnatural whenever I say it. What are your favorite phrases that Mainers say?

[libbystcwart]

tag drop!