#star painted over in landlord white

[itstimeforstarwars]

The parents of a friend from high school are selling their home and I saw it on zillow and like....fuck dude. Our refuge from age fifteen to seventeen is now an ugly greige monstrosity. There's not even any nirvana posters.

[explodingthunder]

well thanks, I guess.

[justheretolurk24]

My Roman empire is my inability to type an emoticon smiley face the first time. I always type :(, then have to backspace the ( and type a )

[writing-is-a-martial-art]

The description of an angel as witnessed by the man looking for his car in the parking lot of a 24-hour diner somewhere between 2 and 3 am

(we do not yet know if he managed to find the car)

And his wings were landlord white, you know, the kind they paint over kids’ doodles and handprints and over posters, sometimes, if they’re in too much of a hurry,

and I can’t tell how but they looked like the apron on the kid who brought my fries,

like they were supposed to fit so many people there was no way they’d really fit anybody,

and his many eyes were mighty kind and tired and maybe tired of being kind.

He glowed some but not like the stars and not like the 24-hour diner sign,

more ripples on water when the light hits right, like it was real bright but just for him.

I thought about asking him if the world’s ending or if god is still around or something of the sort, but I lingered for too long and he beat me to it,

asked me if the fries are any good,

and I said not really but the coffee’s sweet and strong enough to keep you going until morning.

He said that’s all he needs,

his voice ringing rapture and divine cacophony,

and then he went into the diner and I went looking for my car and I never did ask him about god but I doubt that he would know much.

I do hope he got to have a nice coffee.

[cuprohastes]

The Story (Re-Write)

Because so many people wanted to read the story, I had to explain a few times… It's gone. It's lost — I can't find it on Live journal or the Wayback Machine. I suspect it might have been on Google+…

Anyway, several people asked for it to be re-written. Between now and the past, a lot's happened, much of which makes for juicy plot points: And, so I'm serialising it… But only because if I tried to write it in one sitting, my brain would melt. So here's Chapter 1:

Trouble sleeping

Didn't Shakespeare write something about sleep? “Shut me in a nutshell, and I'll be hella good if I can get skibidi sleep?” 

Something like that. 

Larry was not getting sleep, or not enough. Every time he started to sink into the cloud of free association and relaxation, something skittered or whispered to him and jerked him back awake.

In an earlier time, he'd have blamed it on spirits or demons. More recently, maybe the effects of stress and mental health. His parents would have gone to therapy about it.

Larry, a modern person, brought up by Memers and soaked in tech his entire life, didn't have to guess.

It was the fucking wallpaper.

It'd sounded great when he put the first payment down for it. The installers had shown up, ground sixty years of Landlord Paint off the walls, leaving chunks of off-white Fordite all over the floor, and mounted the data-mesh.

Then they'd rolled the rubbery panels down over it, cutting them to fit, letting the test images calibrate and line up.

The first thing Larry put up was an immersive view of some idealised forest. Lush green ferns, a spritz of mist and shafts of smoky golden sun reaching through the trunks.

A week later, the first adverts popped up across the mars-scape he'd switched to. A can of SelZa sitting on a rock that developed a halo of text about how great drinking your pizza would be: Would you like to order now?

The Amazon link popped right up, and Larry had to look away before it took a casual look as an invitation to send him fizzy pizza water.

Soon the animated avatars of other brands were sauntering out from behind rocks to tempt him with Keto Water, Fréch Breeze (Guaranteed fresh air: No microplastics, with Extra Oxygen and Caffeine — Take a Breath of Fréche Air™), frozen pizza, and about a dozen competing Kombucha fermenters.

Larry thought he could live with it.

He was wrong.

Soon his soothing landscapes and themed views were plated in adverts, coruscating and blinking to get his attention. 

Phantom people stared in at him, vamping with designer goods and clothes.

Ad gremlins scampered around, making him twitch as the motion caught the periphery of his vision.

And the WindoWall had audio: The big panels vibrating to act as speakers, and picking up video through camera arrays, listening via a hundred microphones that could pinpoint him within the room.

Just part of life, he told himself.

But then he went to bed. 

The WindoWall darkened and spread an Aurora across one wall, a sprinkle of glittering stars. The audio changed to cancel traffic sounds — A soft chorus of frogs and pattering rain started to play — One wall developed a brazier of softly glowing coals…

Larry backflipped into relaxed unconsciousness hard.

… for ten minutes.

Larry woke, squinting at the sudden brightness:

An advert for SleepyTime Choc Hotlet tried to sing him a lullaby as a cartoon capybara with a fucking lamp demonstrated the sleep he could be getting if they hadn't woken him up to tell him how much better he'd be sleeping if he just bought some SleepTime Choc hotlet to drink!

The Capybara winked and turned off the light. Larry tried to get back to sleep. Fireflies danced gently around the room… and formed up to spell out the name of a mattress company.

Larry rolled over and closed his eyes.

An adorable gnome giggled at him and had a whispered, though perfectly audible conversation with a delightful bunny about how before bed she always used Freshens. Whatever they were.

Larry commando rolled out of bed, mashed his toe on something, screamed in pain, was offered three brands of slipper, four over-the counter painkillers and seven offers to sue someone for personal injury.

All of which were ignored as Larry pulled up the WindoWall app and pushed the brightness and volume to minimum — The glassy matte of the wall panels becoming black in the room lit only by the tablet screen.

Then Larry took some Ibuprofen and went back to bed.

45 minutes later he twitched and woke up to find the room lit by wall panels of text and still images for sleep aids fading in and out, and a soft sussurtion - Quiet Ad Reads that Larry suspected were supposed to subconsciously bias him to buying... Sleep Underwear?

In short succession, Larry found out that he couldn't sleep with an eyemask because the WindoWall started cranking the audio up now he wasn't looking.

And that ear plugs improvised from rolled tissue got him a volume increase and some recommendations about the mildest softest tissues — And he could save 15% if he subscribed!

And that was bad enough: Larry called up the WindoWall Customer Support after a sleepless night.

Customer Support turned out to be an AI avatar who appeared on the wall, using the built-in camera array to track Larry.

“Where are all these adverts coming from?” He asked. Starting simple.

The Face of WindoWall did a polite look of curiosity then, in rich, friendly terms, said “'Adverts' is short for Advertisements: a Method of promoting products....”

Typical answerbot, grabbing a definition from Wiki — But not resolving the query. Larry immediately asked for a real human being.

The Face argued that the chatbot could help, or else it could open the Support Pages for Larry. 

Larry insisted on a human and eventually hit on the correct keywords: “I want to talk to a human being - This is a complaint, please escalate.” And the Face went into an idle animation, repeating, “Our support staff are currently busy with other requests – Please wait. In the meantime you can use our AI responder or the support website” every minute or so.

Larry, familiar with the under-staffed human support departments, picked up a tablet and opened his current book-in-progress while he waited. 

Thumbing past a motion graphic for the series of re-writes of Terry Pratchett by an AI to add 50% extra hilarity and extended scenes, he opened Virtual Investigations: A Max Ransom Adventure...

She walked into my office feed like bad news wrapped in a pretty bow. No way she was real: A dame like that doesn't walk into a virtual office like mine. The wings wouldn't fit through the door. The angel looked at me with golden eyes and hair the colour of mocha - Like the mocha on my desk provided by CoffeeCourier™ – Roast and vacuum packed for freshness according to the quick personality quiz that matched me to the perfect coffee for my busy lifestyle. And you too can enjoy a cup of Mental-Fresh Mocha using code DETECTIVE10 “What's an avatar like you doing in my office?” I asked. In reality I was renting a VR space with a fold down bed and access to three busted washer-dryers in the basement. Online my virtual office was classy, just like you'd expect from a CubeSpace Virtual Site - CubeSpace use real scans to decorate your virtual space for the best in class work sites. Use DETECTIVE10 to get 10% off your own virtual office site for the lifetime of your subscription... She looked at me a moment then said “As an LLM I don't have a philosophy of mind to answer with. I'm here because you have 4.6 stars on Amazon Business Listings as a Detective.” I do. It'd be higher, but some people don't give you a good rating when you chase them for payment. Maybe I should stop showing up with a bill and a threat to post about thier broke asses on the Socials. “I will pay you for your services as a detective to locate my user.” She continued. I looked at her with fresh eyes. So, not someone with an angel kink – An actual House Assistant looking for it's user... the case just got interesting!

Larry was interrupted by the Face clearing its throat, now puppeted by a support worker. The Face's shirt turned green and developed a name badge saying “obj.user.name_1”

“Hello, my name is Shimonne, I'll be assisting you today. The uh notes say you want to know what adverts are...?” It said in the same voice – Corporate robbing its staff of even their own voice.

“Uh no,” said Larry, “I asked where all these adverts came from? Did the video stream get hacked?”

The Face paused and did a canned animation of looking at a tablet.

“Ah, as per the contract, WindoWall reserve the right to show adverts from...” a soft, tired sigh, “Select partners, to provide you with enhanced opportunities to discover carefully curated products” - Said in an equally tired monotone.

Somewhere, Larry assumed, Shimonne was getting dinged for non-compliant tone. But Larry appreciated the little bit of empathy.

A pop-up survey asking how the interaction was progressing slid up, invisible to the Face. Larry tapped a 5 for style and actual empathy. Fuck the Corporate Tone.

“Ok...” said Larry, “But that wasn't how it was sold to me.”

“I understand.” Shimonne said through the Face. “It is in the EULA.” They added, pronouncing it with a deliciously melodic ripple of vowels that even the Face's vocoder couldn't stamp into the carefully selected Midwest accent the marketing team for VirtuAgent had pushed.

So of course Larry asked, “How do I turn them off?”

And that's how Larry got upsold on the Premium Ad-Free tier.

Of course... He didn't read the EULA for that either.

------

OK now a bit about the story. It's very like a couple of Black Mirror Episodes. Even some Farenheit 451, Idocracy, Midnight Burger, Feed, a spritz of Snowcrash... a whole bunch of other stuff. Some of this I've read or watched, some I haven't. But I don't live in a void: Whatever's in here definitely 100% was isnpired in whole or in part by other works, or even current events, shitposts on Social media, memes on Imgur, even things on Tumblr: @marlynnofmany writes fantastic stories and pops up some seriously interesting questions about what day to day life would be like in a world where you can have a starship full of non-human intelligences deliver your packages. So if you're thinking 'This reminds me of..." the answer is probably "yeah that's right." :)

And now a snitch post for some people who wanted to be notified if the story ever showed up:

@ravencromwell @rocinantescoffeestop @vtothefun @call-me-b-please-and-thank-you @msimpossibility @museumofinefarts @faeriesaurus @starlo-official

[tropes-and-tales-archives]

Sonny Carisi: I Need a Place to Stay

WC: 1,645

TW: Fluff.

AN: This was based on the prompt "I need a place to stay." And it's also the first piece I ever published on this hell-site!

Fridays were rarely calm at SVU, but the stars aligned in just the right way that you and your team found yourselves in a lull.  Not that anyone was complaining – the week had been unusually busy, but nearly all of the cases were closed or ready for trial dates, and you and the other detectives finally had a moment to breathe.  It was late afternoon, and Liv pulled on her coat and grabbed her bag.

“I’m heading out now,” she announced to you and the other detectives as she strode across the floor.  “I’m taking advantage of the quiet and going to take Noah to that Lego movie.”  She smiled and gestured towards the door.  “I suggest you take advantage too.”

Your partner, Fin, immediately slammed his laptop shut and grabbed his own coat.  “I’m right behind you, Liv.”  He waved goodbye and disappeared with your boss on the elevator.

“I suppose it’d be nice to take Franny for a walk while the sun’s still out,” Amanda said.

“And to get a head start on the weekend,” you added with a smile.  Amanda had been doing amazing at her recovery from her gambling addiction, but you knew that she still loved the thrill of watching sports – especially any and all playoffs.  Tonight was game six of the American League playoffs between the Yankees and the Red Sox, and as a native Bostonian, you knew you were at odds with your fellow detectives.

“You got any plans?” she asked as she packed up her stuff.

You looked down at your computer screen and sighed.  “Not really.”

“Well, take advantage of the calm here before it’s gone,” she said as she walked out the door.  “You’re only young once.”

You waved her off with a smile and returned to your computer.  The bullpen was quiet except for you and Sonny.  The lanky Italian detective was furiously typing on his laptop, his brow furrowed at the screen.  You watched him furtively, taking in the sight.  His hair, usually perfectly gelled and shellacked into place, was a bit tousled, and a strand fell over his forehead into his eyes.  He had taken off his jacket earlier, and the sleeves of his white shirt were half rolled up, revealing his fine hands.  You fantasized about those hands more often then you wanted to admit even to yourself, and you felt your face turning red.

“Done!” Sonny exclaimed, closing his laptop.  “I’ve got every piece of paperwork finished and caught up.”  He turned to you and grinned.  His smile was infectious, and you found yourself smiling back.

“You about done?” he asked as he stood up from his desk.  “I’ll walk you out if you are.”

You ducked your head and blushed.  “Actually….” You started to speak and then stopped for a moment.  “I’m going to stay here tonight.  In the crash room, I mean.”

Sonny cocked his head to one side and narrowed his blue eyes.  “You’re gonna sleep here?  Why?”

“I need a place to stay,” you mumbled.  It was embarrassing – your building had a roach problem, and the landlord finally was going to fumigate the place over the weekend.  It wasn’t your fault, but you hadn’t made many friends since you moved to New York from Boston.  A handful of casual acquaintances, but no one close enough that you felt comfortable crashing on their couch for a few days.  You explained the vermin problem to Sonny and hoped he didn’t judge you.

He frowned.  “You can’t sleep here.  Those cots in the crash room are disgusting and uncomfortable.”  He looked at you a moment, his blue eyes searching your face. 

“Stay with me,” he said.  “My couch is super comfortable.”  He tried to read your expression.  “But only if you want,” he added, uncertain.

You thought about it.  On one hand, Sonny was right:  the crash room at SVU was disgusting.  The cot mattresses were stained with god-knows-what, and the paint was peeling from the walls and ceiling, leaving little green flakes all over everything.  On the other hand, you had a major crush on Sonny, and you handled it by being extra reserved around him at work.  You imagined the potential pitfalls of staying at his place for a few days and shuddered.

“We can order pizza and watch the game tonight,” he added, and that sealed the deal for you.  You nodded at him and grabbed your overnight bag from where you had stashed it under your desk.  “Let’s go,” you said with a tentative smile.

********

The subway ride was short, and Sonny was uncharacteristically quiet, making a little small talk.  He lived on a quiet street (for New York, that is), on a third-floor walk-up.  Ever the gentleman, he had taken your bag from you and carried it, and you followed him up the stairs to his apartment.  He hesitated when you reached his door.

“Can you wait here a minute?” he asked, shuffling his feet.

You nodded, and Sonny unlocked his door and disappeared inside.  Through the door, you could hear muffled thuds and thumps and his footsteps.  A moment later, the door swung open and he invited you in with a flourish.

“What was that about?” you asked as you walked past him.

The tips of his ears grew red.  “It’s been awhile since I had company over.  Had to make sure the place was presentable.”

You laughed and took off your coat.  “So you shoved all your Playboys under the bed and tossed your beer can collection in the trash?”

Sonny’s ears got redder, but he grinned.  “Something like that.  Anyway, I’ll give you the tour and then we can order something for dinner.  How’s that sound?”

“That sounds great, actually,” you replied.  “I’m starving.”

********

It was the fifth inning of the ballgame, and you and Sonny had put away an extra-large pizza and more beer than you cared to count.  You were both settled on the couch, Sonny’s legs stretched out and you curled up on the other side.  The Yankees and the Red Sox were tied up, and the teasing, which had started out tentative, had reached a fever pitch.

“I’m just saying,” said Sonny, “we got twenty-seven titles to….how many World Series have you won again?”

You scoffed.  “Maybe we don’t stack our roster with super expensive players.” Sonny laughed.  “That’s the whole point of baseball, doll.  To win!  If you hadn’t traded away the Babe and cursed yourselves…”

You blushed at him calling you doll.  “Who believes in curses at all, let alone sports curses?” you replied, hoping he didn’t notice your cheeks burning. 

He laughed again and took a swig from his beer.  You watched him out of the corner of your eye.  Sonny was usually the squad’s resident ray of sunshine, but you could see a definite difference between Work Sonny and Casual Sonny.  At home, his hair was tousled and messier, making him look years younger, almost boyish.  The lines that were forming around his eyes were relaxed, and his blue eyes lit up as he told you about his grandpa taking him to Yankee games when he was a kid.  He had changed out of his suit into worn jeans and a grey Henley, and his entire aura exuded a calm that made you forget your apartment situation and the fact that you were spending the night on your crush’s couch.

 You had changed into more comfortable clothes too, the crash-room appropriate outfit you had packed for sleeping in.  If you had known you’d be sleeping over at Sonny’s, you might have considered packing something other than your worn sweatpants and oversized tee-shirt…

 Your mind drifted off as the two of you watched the game.  Back and forth, the two teams stayed tied.  You finished your beer and set the empty bottle on the coffee table in front of you.  You felt a sudden chill and shivered.

Sonny saw, and he shot up from his place on the couch.  “Sorry!” he said.  “It can get a little cold in here in the fall.  The landlord likes to wait to fire up the furnace, I think.”  He reached past you and grabbed the blanket from the back of his couch.

“Here, take my blanket,” he said.  He didn’t wait for you to answer or take it from him – instead, he stood over you and covered you gently with the blanket, tucking it around you until only your head peeped out.

“There,” he said, satisfied with his handiwork.  Instead of returning to his place on the other side of the couch, he settled in beside you, wrapping one arm around your shoulder, rubbing you gently through the blanket.  “Better?” he asked.

You nodded your head, unable to form words.  Sonny kept his arm around you, and you cleared your throat.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you said quietly.  “I don’t have many friends in the city yet.”

“It’s no problem,” he murmured.  He glanced down at you and smiled, his eyes as blue as the sky.  The beer had gone to your head, making it feel fuzzy and warm.  You closed your eyes and leaned against Sonny, taking in his warmth and the lingering smell of his cologne that you knew so well.  His grey Henley was soft under your cheek, and you could hear the steady thump of his heart beating.  The stress of the busy week drained out of you, and you felt yourself falling asleep. You felt Sonny shift slightly, pulling you in closer as he settled against the couch and adjusted the blanket around you.  You were startled for a moment as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, but sleep pulled you back under almost immediately.  You smiled as you heard him say, moments before you were asleep completely, “you have at least one friend here in the city.”    

[edgarallanpoestan]

remembering that post about how the poem is too obvious about ceiling stars in an airbnb painted over in landlord white, and feeling the same way about my phone calendar

[disaster-bay-leaf]

soukoku are so filled with symbols and metaphors i cant

its like that post about the glow in the dark star painted over in landlord white

the themes are there i have not much left to say

[httpsoftspace]

It frustrates me when I can't write a poem because the meaning is just too obvious. Like in the AIRBNB I stayed at, which must have been a kid's room once. You could still see the faint imprint of a glow-in-the-dark star that had been missed and painted over with the typical landlord white. That alone is a poem already, so what's the point of trying?

[collapsedglasshouses]

WOULD YOU SAY I'M WORTHY || THREE

PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x OFC ; slight Nick Folio x OFC

DIVIDERS BY @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY: When Eden meets Noah, her life is anything but perfect. Her heart is far more broken than Noah can even guess at this point. Will he be able to mend the wounds he hadn’t caused?

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, eventually smut, mentions of grief/loss, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of mental health issues, mentions of illnesses

A/N: I like this chapter a lot, maybe it's the vibe idk. Let me know what you think and please consider reblogging! ♡

TAGLIST: @measuredingold @cncohshit @lma1986 @missduffsblog @cookiesupplier @thescarlettvvitch @bngurngheart @dream-machine-love @arkiliastuff @vinyardmauro @lacktoesandtoddlerants @princessmarshmallowx @circle-with-me @thisbicc @xxkittenkissesxx @malerieee @smoke-in-diamond-shape @thatgirlforever5 @veronicaphoenix @justeli6

If you wanna be added to the story's taglist or to my taglist in general, leave a comment or message me privately!

MASTERPOST || MASTERLIST

Halloween night always felt magical in Eden’s neighborhood. The air buzzed with a sense of excitement and the moonlight painted everything around the houses in a silver glow. A gentle breezed carried the smell of wet leaves and pumpkins. Streetlights made shadows that danced on the sidewalks and most of the houses were covered with cobwebs and spooky decorations.

While Eden was getting ready she heard a couple of leaves crunch under the feet of families wandering the streets and the sound was mixed with the laughter of trick-or-treaters. Even though Eden wasn’t the biggest fan of her birthday, she loved how everything was tinted in a warm orange light by Jack-o’-lanterns. Her landlord had carved four of them and placed them in front of the small apartment building she was living in. The night held surprises around every corner and the air was filled with joyful chatter of kids in their bright and sometimes spooky costumes.

Meanwhile, Eden found herself standing in front of her mirror. Her hand ran over her hips as she admired her costume. The black corset dress hugged her curves seemingly perfect and the white Ghostface mask added a hint of mystery to her appearance. She couldn’t even recognize herself anymore. She normally was pretty reserved and quiet, only letting out her outgoing side when she had to at work, and this also reflected in her style of clothing. However, her skin was adorned with a few different stories. The tattoos that covered her left arm, her hip and her right leg all had their own tales to tell, but she usually kept them to herself.

Today should be different. Her whole arms and legs were exposed. She somewhat felt naked. As if the tattoos would suddenly start to talk. For a second, she thought about covering up but then she remembered something important. No one over there knew her. No one knew what the story behind her tattoos was. No one would question her about the things she desperately wanted to hide and suppress. No one over there knew her.

She could be a completely different person tonight. They only saw the confident woman under the mask. Not the exhausted self she was the rest of the time.

She sighed, pleased with herself, before putting the mask off again. She grabbed her phone and purse and left the house. Right as she reached her car, there was a small group of children running down the street. They were all giggling and showing the candies they had gotten to their parents that waited for them. A sad smile washed over her face for a second, but she decided to ignore the hole in her chest, before getting into her car and driving off.

As she arrived at the venue, the party was already in full swing. The music thumped through the walls of the house and Eden could occasionally hear laughter echoing through the chilly air. She sat in her car for a second, while starring at the building. There was no going back.

She took a deep breath, before grabbing her mask from the passenger seat and putting in on again.

“You got this, Eden.” She mumbled to herself, before getting her purse and then stepping out of her car. She walked reluctantly towards the front door and considered for a second whether she should write to Nick that she was here or simply enter, but then someone was already yanking the door open.

It was a guy, dressed in gray, with a cute racoon mask on his face.

“Woah, sorry.” The man yelped and held onto the door frame in shock but his tone quickly changed to a skeptic one. “And who are you?”

Before Eden could even answer him, a familiar face pushed Racoon-Guy to the side and beamed at her. “Let me through, Matt. This is Eden!”

Eden smiled to herself under the mask. His costume was unmistakable. He was Freddy Krueger, complete with the widely-known striped sweater, hat and glove with fake razor-sharp blades.

“Get in here!” Nick shouted at her over the music and carefully grabbed her hand to get her in the house.

“You look absolutely stunning, Eden! I didn’t even know you had tattoos.” He complimented the girl while leading her to the table where the drinks stood at.

“Thank you. You look great yourself.” She answered him shyly, while eyeing the table.

Until now, she had simply tried to ignore the crowd of people in the room, but the anxiety was slowly creeping into her bones. She hated crowds, she hated large amounts of alcohol, she hated parties. She asked herself again what she was actually doing there.

“Where is the birthday kid? I wanna at least congratulate him.” Eden mumbled to Nick as he held up a beer, asking silently if it was okay to open it for her. She nodded, while he answered. “I actually have no fucking idea. I lost him an hour ago.”

Eden nodded while taking the beer Nick held to her. She lifted the mask for a short second to take a sip, when she remembered. “I actually can’t drink. I drove here.”

“You can sleep in my room, if you want. I have a spare couch.” Nick smiled at her shyly and she blinked for a second.

“You live here?” She asked him and he nodded. “The boys and I all live here.”

Eden nodded before thinking to herself, if it was a good idea to crash at Nick’s place. It would be the first time in ages that she wouldn’t sleep in the comfort of her own home. But when someone accidentally bumped into her, she realized that she would probably end the evening in a panic attack if she didn't drink. So, she nodded. “Okay, I’ll sleep here.”

Nick smiled brightly at her, before nodding in a direction, signaling her to follow him. They walked to a small group gathered in the corner of the living room.

“Guys, this is Eden.” Nick introduced her to the people, and she shyly waved at them for a second.

“Woah, awesome costume.” One of the men, dressed as cupid, said to her and she thanked him quietly. “I’m Jesse by the way.”

Nick began to introduce the others after that. There was Jolly and Nicholas, dressed as pirates. There was Bryan, dressed as Marty McFly. And there was the raccoon guy that opened the door, Matt.

They all began to chat, while Eden found herself just standing next to Nick, following their conversation. Eden was feeling herself zoning out as the next hour passed. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but she began to notice how little she actually knew Nick and kind of felt out of place for a second.

She lifted her mask again, just enough to take a big sip of her beer, when she heard Jesse next to her exclaim in excitement.

“Oh man! I just thought we could get a glimpse of the girl Nick can’t shut up about.” He joked as Eden let the mask fall on her face again. She noticed how she blushed and was glad she had the costume to cover her face.

“Oh, shut up. I’m not always talking about her.” Nick protested and Eden saw how he tried to cover up his own blushing cheeks while drinking from his beer.

Eden didn’t know what to say, so she blinked for a second, before deciding to cover Nick’s back. “I think that needs to be a mystery for a bit longer.”

The guys chuckled while she patted Nick’s back for reassurance. He smiled at her shyly for a second, before they began to chat again. Eden’s gaze wondered over the room. She had been right, she knew nobody. But that was also relatively normal considering how little she left the house when she didn't have to go to work.

Her gaze lingered on a man standing at the other end of the room who seemed to be looking across the space just like her. He stood tall, with long brown hair falling down his back. Dressed as a vampire, he had this mysterious vibe about him, like he just stepped out of a spooky tale. The darkness of his costume matched his eyes, making him look both charming and a little bit eerie. Eden felt intrigued by him, maybe because he looked like he didn’t want to be there. Just like her. When he smiled at the guy standing next to him, Eden felt herself smiling with him.

Nick snapped her out of her thoughts, when he gently tapped her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” He wanted to know and gave her a sweet smile that she wished she could return to him, but her mask was still hiding her face.

“Yeah… Don’t worry. I just need some fresh air.” With that, the woman ran a hand over his arm and walked away from the group and out the door to the small garden. There was a pool and a couple of cozy benches. She was glad nobody was out there. She sat down and put her mask off.

Right now, she noticed how anxious she had been in there. Her whole body was tense. It had been years at this point since she last went to a party, considering the last years had been tough and definitely nothing to celebrate, but she hadn't realized how hard it actually had been for her to enjoy herself at a party.

She was snapped out of her thoughts, when she heard someone stepping outside. She turned her head and saw the vampire from before. The man stepped close to her and stopped for a second when he saw her sitting there. It took him a second to decide what to do before he pointed to the seat next to her on the bench. “May I?”

Eden nodded.

“I spent the whole evening wondering who was under that mask.” He cheekily exclaimed and ran a hand through his long hair. Eden chuckled, feeling a sense of ease in the man’s company. “Well… The secret is out now.”

After that they fell into a comfortable silence, both deep in their thoughts. Eden was surprised by the easiness that the man next to her radiated. Normally, she would have stood up and went back inside, but he seemed to calm her spirits without doing anything at all.

“Honestly,…” The man began, “I really hate celebrating my birthday.” Eden’s eyes shot to him, realizing he was the only reason she was there that night. “I didn’t know you were the birthday kid. Happy Birthday.” She exclaimed with a sweet smile on her lips.

“Thank you.” He quietly reacted, the corners of his mouth shooting up for a couple of seconds and Eden noticed it made him uncomfortable for a while.

“So, how old are you turning?” She then wanted to know.

The guy, with a casual grin on his face, replied, “24.” A brief pause hung in the air as Eden nodded at his answer, before she exclaimed, “Birthdays aren’t really my thing either. Parties even less.”

Curiosity sparked in him, Noah asked, “When’s yours then?”

Eden, a touch more shyly than she already was, responded, “Today.”

“Really?” He exclaimed with widened eyes, “Well, happy birthday to you too!”

She smiled for a short second, appreciating the sincerity in his wishes, while he asked her how old she turned.

“26.” She shortly exclaimed and looked straight ahead. She wanted to be normal about this, but her age always reminded her about how fast her young adulthood was slipping through her fingers.

“I’m Noah, by the way.” He introduced himself after a minute of silence. “Eden.”

“Eden? Where does that come from?” Noah asked, intrigued by the girl’s presence. Something about his gaze relaxed Eden. It didn't feel forced to talk to him. It felt like he genuinely wanted to make her feel better.

“I mean it is a really biblically name, but my parents just thought it sounded spooky and since I was born on Halloween and it’s their favorite holiday, they named me that.” She explained to him and felt how she slightly cringed at her statement. She really hated the reason behind her naming. If her parents had been strict religious people, she would have understood, but needing to explain that they just thought it sounded a bit scary, made her feel silly.

“Let me guess, you have siblings called Carrie or Annabelle to round up the spooky theme.” Noah joked, but when he saw her face, he stopped laughing. “Please tell me I’m wrong.”

“I have a younger sister called Raven. So, close.” Eden exclaimed while Noah took a deep breath.

“I think that’s both really pretty names but when I think of your parents, I see two really bubbly people who actually do not even know what the names originally meant.” – “Sounds about right.”

Eden tried to ignore how her cheeks became a slight tone of pink because of his compliment.

Noah noticed how Eden shifted in her seat and decided to change the topic. “Nick was talking about you the other day. Only positive things, of course.” – “Really?” Eden’s face must have been a deep shade of red at this point.

“Totally. He thinks you’re pretty cool.” Noah exclaimed, not telling her how Nick ranted about how beautiful she was the second he came home from that bar the first time.

Eden’s curiosity piqued, but her thoughts held her back from prying further. She wondered what Nick had said about her but decided to keep it to herself for now. Maybe some time she would be comfortable enough to ask Nick himself.

“And?” She asked Noah and he shot her a confused look. “What and?”

“Am I pretty cool?” She jokingly asked the vampire in front of her. He laughed at her question in a sweet tone and Eden also couldn’t help but grin.

“Yeah. I would say the statement ‘pretty cool’ is pretty accurate.” He answered her honestly and Eden felt her cheeks heat up again. She rolled her eyes while smiling and looked away. “You know, you don’t need to lie to me just because I’m sleeping here tonight.”

“I’m not lying, ghosty.” He justified his previous exclaim.

“Ghosty?” She asked him while laughing slightly.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be the sexy ghostface forever in my mind, Eden.” He boldly stated and Eden immediately felt warmth spread in her stomach. Did he really think she looked sexy?

“Maybe, you’re forever going to be the handsome vampire in my mind.” She then answered him, not really knowing where her boldness came from. Now Noah was the one to blush and Eden couldn’t help but feel proud. She didn’t think she would have this kind of effect on anyone with her words.

“So, you’re staying tonight?” Noah then wanted to know, fidgeting with his fingers, to calm his nervousness because of her compliment.

Eden nodded. “Yeah, I’m sleeping on Nick’s couch.”

Noah nodded.

Right as he was about to ask her something, the door to the garden was opened.

“Hey, Eden. I’m heading to bed. Should I show you where you're sleeping tonight?” Nick said to her, and Noah couldn’t ignore his facial expression. He wasn’t too happy to see the two of them alone, so Noah tried to ease Nick’s spirits by standing up and walking towards him.

“I was going to bed anyways.” Noah exclaimed and shot Eden a last smile, before patting Nick’s shoulders and getting back into the house.

Eden also stood up, trying to suppress her disappointment about Noah’s disappearance while shooting Nick a smile.

Nick signaled her to step into the house first, which she accepted. Inside, she noticed that almost everyone had been gone at this point and she wandered how long she had been sitting outside with Noah.

“By the way, don’t worry about your makeup. We have bought some remover because of the Halloween costumes.” Nick said to her after wishing everyone that was still downstairs a good night.

“Really thoughtful of you.” She answered him while trotting behind him to his room. When they entered it, she was met with a sweet view. The room screamed Nick. Some band posters where hanging on the wall, while a fishing rod stood in the corner. Some drum sticks randomly laid around.

“I’m sorry that I dragged you here tonight, Eden.” Nick exclaimed, while Eden sat down on the couch. “Oh, don’t worry. I had fun. Just not a fan of big crowds.”

“Kinda ironic, considering you’re a bartender.” Nick answered her with a sweet smile on his face, while grabbing a blanket and one of his pillows.

“Maybe, but at the bar I have a counter to keep people off of me.” Eden began while getting out of her tights. “And if they are mean to me, I can throw glasses at them.”

Nick laughed slightly, while going to his closet to grab a shirt for her to wear for the night.

“Do you maybe have a hair tie?” She sweetly asked Nick and took the shirt from his hands.

“I think, I’m the only one in this household who doesn’t own one.” Nick exclaimed with a lopsided grin and Eden nodded, realizing there were a lot of men with long hair in this house, but Nick was not one of them.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find one.” She exclaimed, before asking him where the bathroom was, and he gladly showed it to her.

When she entered the room, she locked the door after her and began her evening routine. Sadly, she wasn’t able to brush her teeth, but it was okay for one night.

Right when she was ready and changed, she heard a soft knock on the door and went to open it. The first thing she saw was a tattooed chest, when she lifted her gaze, she was met with a neck, just as tattooed. She felt how her heart began to beat fast.

Soon she looked into dark brown eyes. Noah.

“Sorry, didn’t know you were in there.” Noah excused himself as Eden needed a second to compose herself. She knew he was tattooed but she didn’t know that he had so many.

“Don’t worry, I just finished.” She mumbled and felt like she stuttered the words out. She was about to step away, when she remembered something.

“Do you maybe have a hair tie for me?” She asked him softly and he began to smile. His hair had been up in a bun, but soon he opened his hair to give her his hair tie.

“No, you can’t just give me that.” She wanted to protest but he grabbed her hand and put the elastic in it.

“Don’t worry, keep it. I have enough.” He answered, before they changed places, Eden now staying outside the bathroom.

“Thanks.” Eden whispered, still intimidated by his presence.

“Good night, Eden.” – “Good night, Noah.”

[orpheusilver]

wanting to do an edit with silver and metaphor by the crane wives vs [insert that post abt the glow in the dark stars painted over with landlord white]

[vampirejuno]

I hate having to explain or elaborate on something glaringly obvious in an academic paper, like. Do I really have to dissect that scene in iron man 3 where a US military officer, nicknamed alternately "iron patriot" and "war machine", breaks into a suspected terrorist hideout and instead finds several women in niquabs working in a sweatshop, who see his red-white-and-blue armor and rejoice as he liberates them. Like. What more is there to say. It's like that poem about the glow in the dark star painted over with landlord white. Just look at it, it's on the screen

[five-crows-in-a-trenchcoat]

reminded of that one post about the star painted in landlord white from an experience at work today. about hearing a favourite song on the radio, but so far from the register you can only hear a few muffled notes over the sounds of the store. something about longing and the death of art and individuality at the hands of duty. the poem is already there. you can literally hear the absence of it around you through the throngs of customers like what’s the point of writing something so glaringly obvious

There truly is a certain sadness about it if you think too hard

[thehummingbirdsmatter]

Honest-to-god suggested article on my work computer.

I feel like the bedroom ceiling star painted over in landlord white. I don't need to elaborate about the emotion this evokes. You get it.

[bitchapalooza]

Do you think the landlord would be pissed if I left the glow in the dark stars and sticky tack on the wall or do you think they'll just not care and paint over it? I personally think I should be petty and leave MORE white sticky tack on the white walls and spread them out! Petty behavior without real damage to either party乁⁠༼⁠☯⁠‿⁠☯⁠✿⁠༽⁠ㄏ

[terribledactyl]

okay not to be A Poet but I always feel a little ticked about the post talking about how some moments are too symbolic to make a poem out of cuz they speak for themselves and! GOOD! it’s a BEAUTIFUL thing that you can see the poetry of it! poetry is everywhere and in some places it’s more visible, and it always is worth finding the meaning in our world around us!

BUT!

the poem being obvious doesn’t make it less worth writing. even if all you can think to do is write out what happened in the plainest words possible, if you see the symbolism in it, that’s a poem! break that baby into lines!

let’s apply some poetry techniques to this post and see if we can turn it into a poem!

there’s the obvious: let’s just shorten it and split it into lines. I’ll try to pay attention to how I split up the lines as well, since where you divide a sentence into two lines can change how it’s read or how it scans.

In my AirBNB, you

can see the imprint of one

little glow in the dark

star that has been missed

and painted over in landlord

white.

You get the themes. Just look

at it: it’s on the ceiling.

That’s already a great poem, but let’s step the complication up a notch. Let’s try rewording it and see if we like that.

Restless under a night

that is not my own, I find

myself staring at the

ceiling of my AirBNB: see

the plastic stars, sixth

glow-in-the-dark childhood

wonder of the world,

painted over and sold

to me in landlord

white.

Not bad! Which you like better is entirely up to personal taste, but why do you like the one you prefer? What elements do you think elevate the point the poet is trying to get across, and what elements do you feel are unnecessary? Why might the poet have phrased it the way they did, and what did the differences in phrasing do to the meaning of the poem?

This is an encouragement, by the way! You don’t *have* to turn something into the second type of poem if the moment itself is too profound to you. I promise there are people out there who will find the moment just as profound. Don’t be afraid that you won’t do a moment justice: every poem you write is a poem ONLY you could write, and every profound moment you experience is its own entirely personal poem that you can choose to share with the world.

In that way, even if you think it’s obvious, there is ALWAYS a point in writing a poem out of things that impact you, even if you don’t think there’s a way to elevate it into a more complex poem.

Your experiences are worth sharing.