hatehumaninteraction

 Even though he believed that scales were a good way to warm up and improve your playing upon one’s own instrument, he didn’t prefer them played outside his window at six thirty in the morning. Quickly Sherlock got out of his bed, put his bathrobe on and stormed outside. He quickly found the source of the obscenely high notes, John. The curly haired teen stormed over to the trumpeter, snatching the brass instrument away from him before storming back inside and throwing the trumpet to the floor, causing John to stand dumbfounded. “Finally, peace and quiet.” He murmured as he fell back onto the mattress. John was oblig

John was playing Ave Maria, some music he’d been meaning to get around to since the beginning of the summer. He’d gotten most the music down, almost as perfect as he could get it. Once he was more pleased with his own playing ability, he decided to play through the entire song once, mentally transposing the eerie yet oddly cheerful melody to key of B flat. Though it sounded higher, it still held a smooth tone while he played through the music, adding vibrato to the longer notes and slurs. Though he smudged a few notes, overall it fell together well. Sherlock got to the bottom of a small hill and found that it opened up to make a

‘Only a week,” John thought to himself, ignoring the dull roar of noise on the parked bus. It was like this every year. Loud, before they even started moving. With a sigh, he placed his head back on the sticky seat and placed in an earphone, deciding it’d be best to appear like a loner until they actually arrived to camp. John opened his eyes to see a group of students out of the bus window that he didn’t recognize. He raised his eyebrows curiously, even though he didn’t know everyone in the band by name, he at least knew their faces, which concluded these children were indeed not form band. He took a closer loo

A/N: There isn't enough god damn Sabriel and god damn thats a cute ass ship. So have a College AU. (all of the angst) ~~ Sam heaved a sigh, setting down the last box he had needed to haul up his dorm-room stairs. His dad hadn't bothered to help him, he had more important business to attend to. Sam scowled at the thought of his father, but shrugged it off and turned his attention to the cardboard boxes that now lay on the floor in front of him. He picked first of the boxes, then started to unpack his wide variety of books, setting them on shelves. Sam checked the time, awaiting the arrival of his new roommate, whomever he may be. Just as he