chalk on blackboard

I made a great crafty discovery and I want to share

Sister (and Brother) Witches!

Did you know that you can buy adhesive paper that has the qualities of a chalk blackboard?

I think it’s meant for kids - you stick it onto any flat surface like the wardrobe door or whatever, and the kid draws on it until it reaches the age where it doesn’t like messing about with chalk drawings anymore, and then you take it off.

However, this is a really great tool for anyone doing witchcraft or any kind of ceremonial magic or rituals! You can stick it onto the surface you do rituals on, and draw anything you like - your sigils, whatever-grams, symbols of your deity, your intention, anything - on it, in chalk, and afterwards you can wipe it clean off. Better yet, don’t even stick it, just unroll when you want to and roll up again when you don’t!

And for closeted witches, you can put it on a table that normally has a tablecloth on, or - like I did - stick it onto the back of a cutting board that normally stays mundane side up. Then just flip it for rituals and bam, instant altar. Just add chalk.

The one I found comes in black and green, too, so basically perfection.

6

Things:

가방: Bag
신문: Newspaper
잡지: Magazine
책: Book
공책: Note book
일기: Diary
수필: Essay
숙제: Homework
시험: Test
종이: Paper
과목: Course, School subject
수업: A class, lesson
교재: Teaching materials, Textbook
편지: Letter
연필: Pencil
펜: Pen
분필: Chalk
칠판: Blackboard
책상: Desk
의자: Chair
상: Table
문: Door, Gate

Places:

방: Room
학교: School
대학교: University
교실: Classroom
기숙사: Dormitory, Residence hall
도서관: Library
서점: Bookstore
캠퍼스: Campus
학생회관: Student Union [building]
연구실: Professor’s Office

Follow @SallysKoreanNotes on Instagram for daily Korean notes and vocabulary!

BOY, OH BOY

Originally posted by tomhollandislife

Summary: High school is the checkpoint in your life where you begin to notice boys more, Peter Parker especially. You have a hard crush on him, but he doesn’t notice it, or you for that matter. But then one day, it’s as if the Gods had fulfilled your wishes, in which you two come together in a collaboration that you’ve been dying to have happened.

Author’s Note: PART ONE of ‘BOY, OH BOY’. Hey, everyone! Just a warning, all I want to say is that I’m sort of new at this, which means I’m a bit rusty. But all in all, enjoy this imagine!

Written by @auzzie-pengu

~

Boy, oh boy, you thought, sitting by the window, in the fifth row, near the back of the classroom. The teacher hadn’t arrived yet, but you’d figured that since the door was left open, it would be okay to enter. All your other classmates were still out. Then Peter Parker appeared. Stumbling through the entry, bumping his elbow right against the doorknob, he then tripped. His textbooks flying out of his arms, plummeting to the floor.

You contemplated whether or not to help him out, but when you finally approached, everybody filed in, in which you retreated back to your desk. You didn’t like big crowds, and Biology had a large number of students. They stopped and glanced down at the poor boy, gathering his things. Laughter echoed. All walked around to find their own seats. When the time was right, you went for it, taking big strides and picking up the last book. You took no notice of the cover or title.

When you were about to give it to him, Peter had already moved and sat at the back, wearing earphones with his laptop opened.

Should I approach him? You asked yourself. This was a major dilemma. You wanted so badly to talk to him, to sit next to him, to be friends with him, or even more. And you tried. But you’re always late with open chances. One time, he was standing in the corridor, by his locker, putting away textbooks and other things, and you felt this rush of confidence. But that quickly drained into the abyss of over-thinking, once you began to hesitate more and more that he’d already left.

You didn’t want to risk it. Maybe he wasn’t interested. Maybe for now, you should just sit down, resume the homework of last week, and completely ignore the idea of Peter ever liking you.

Ms. Warren walked in, holding folders and her laptop, and setting everything down on her spacious desk. “Hello, class. My apologies for my time management. Just needed to finish off printing your projects for the term.”

You turned your head and watched the teacher begin to hand out the task sheets.

You walked up to her and offered some help. “Did you want me to hand out the rest?”

She nodded. “That would be great, Y/N, thank you.”

You took half of the pile and went up and down the aisles, before reaching Peter. You hid the book under the task sheet and rested at his side. He smiled up at you, only briefly, then resumed to his laptop. Taking a brief glance at a screen, you saw it was a battle at an airport, but you thought no more of it, and left a task sheet at your own desk, before handing everything back to Ms. Warren.

“You can go back to your seat, Y/N,” she’d instructed. And you followed suit, overlooking the printed paper in your hands once you’d sat down. “Alright. Now, pay attention, everyone. Peter?”

You looked over your shoulder, a little too obvious, but felt relief when nobody noticed your eagerness, as they were all watching him intently.

“Peter!” Ms. Warren tried again, finally getting his attention. He lifted his head up, abruptly, and as if by instinct, he flicked his eyes to you, then to the teacher.

“Sorry,” he said, rushing to close his laptop, and pulling the earphones out.

She said nothing, just nodded her head. As everyone else turned back to the front, you thought it was best if you did too, just for the sake of not being a creeper.

“I’d suggest you all listen, alright? Your performance and participation will effect your grade.” She began to go through everything, talking about the purpose of this term project and what you all had to do. “Everyone will have a partner. And with your partner, you must dissect a cow heart. Afterwards, make a report. Help each other out. There are no rights or wrongs, but just try to be included.”

A cow heart. You gulped, scratching the metallic layer off your pencil, all the flakes falling on to your text book. Ms. Warren held a list in her hand, and wrote with her other, the chalk scraping against the blackboard, making you cringe. Then you realised that there were names beside each other. You saw yours. Next to Peter’s.

Boy, oh boy.

After pairing everybody else, your teacher had informed everyone to sit with their partner. You stood up, just as Peter sat beside you. You made space for him, accidentally pushing your notebook off the edge of the counter. You picked it back up, then turned to him, ready to say hello.

He beat you to it by a second. “Hello,” he was quiet when he spoke. His eyes avoided yours. Not purposely. Or maybe even so.

“Hi.” It was almost a squeak when you’d responded.

You two said nothing else, and listened to Ms. Warren’s instructions, after fetching a trolley of large plastic bags, that had the hearts of a cow. She told everyone to grab one for each duo. You went to grab a bag, smelling the odour of the blood, wishing that the ziplock did a better job at barricading the smell. It didn’t. You tried not to gag.

Placing it on the table, where there was the equipment that assumably Peter had taken, you ‘plated’ the heart on the tray, using the plastic bag as a glove substitute. Peter had given you your own pair of rubber gloves, as he was already wearing his. You put them on, equipped your safety goggles, and finally a lab coat, and awaited more instructions.

“I’d like all of you to inspect these following attributions. Identify them. Then take photos. Raise your hand, and I’ll help you.”

You grabbed the scalpel, hands shaky. The stench of blood was disgusting and it made you sick; not to be over dramatic. Peter noticed how nervous you were and so he helped you.

“Maybe you could start by slicing it in half. Vertically, so we can see the arteries and the heart valves and stuff,” he said, outlying where you should preferably cut it. He glanced up at you. “Unless, you wanted me to. Because I can. You could just take pictures.”

“No, I’m pretty sure you’re a better photographer than me. I can do it, don’t worry,” you assured him, holding your breath, then positioning the scalpel at the bottom of the heart. You pushed the blade forward, watching it sliding through he muscle, smoothly.

To you, this felt wrong. It’s basically—no, it’s EXACTLY—like stabbing someone in the heart. You sliced right around as suggested by Peter, who clicked away on his camera, taking photos.

“I think you’re able to open it up, now.” He used a paddle stick to inspect the gouge. “Yep. Do you want to?”

“Yeah, yeah. Uh, just… okay.” You peel one half, like turning a page of a book. You had to cut the arteries and veins in order to open it fully. “L-Low and behold… the inside of the heart…”

He took more pictures. “I think we’re done with pictures for now. Let’s start labelling parts.”

You stood back, just to catch your breath. It took a lot for you to be around a fresh organ that reeks of bodily functions. Peter got real close to the heart as you watched him. You liked how his jawline hardened, and how his eyes squinted a bit. Then he looked up at you, and you hoped he didn’t notice you gawking.

"You’re really good at this,” he commented, with a smile.

This threw you off. “What, d-dissecting a heart?”

"Yeah. Everything is identifiable, and we could see each chamber clearly. Look, which one do you prefer to be the right ventricle?”

You pointed, your finger a centimetre away from the slimy texture of the heart muscle. He nodded, agreeably.

"I didn’t think it would be that ‘neat’,” you air quoted and laughed, awkwardly.

It was a moment you cherished when he stared at you with a genuine smile. You stomach churned and your heart raced. You smiled too. He then looked down at his camera and picked it up. He was contemplating something, then he said, “Do you want to pose for one last picture? I had an idea for our report.”

(Credit to @auzzie-pengu the writer of this request. If you wanna send love, leave a comment (not an ask to this blog as she won’t see it), or go over to her blog and send her the love there. Thank you for taking on the request, can’t wait for the next part of this. - Rosalee)


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The Palmetto cafe was a hole in the wall smeared with orange paint. Despite its small frame, it was deceptively airy inside, soaking up the sun from the eastern entrance and its glass front, it felt like sinking in layers of sunlight and cheese, like sinking into a target, like being blinded by stage lights.  

There were three exits if you counted the entrance.  The back wall consisted of a large counter and a display of sweets and specials. Their prices were printed in round bubble letters and wide cursive orange chalk on a large blackboard decorated by large drawings of foxes and instruments. In the western corner, an old grand piano was propped up on a wide platform, scratched up and aged with wisdom lines. There was an effort in tearing his eyes from it.

Even with few patrons, the air was livid with the tang of coffee and the sweetness of baked goods. If he closed his eyes, he could almost recall the smell of roadside diners, flashing street lights, the momentary recollection of what a “home” was supposed to be. A sitcom level of clarity and order.

From Avant Garde by @yellowgoingblue
for the @aftgbigbang​ !

Read it on AO3!

It was an absolute delight working on this AU Neil!

change my mind

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin; jikook/kookmin
Genre: Fluff (a lot), college au, friends to lovers
Length: 7k words; 3 chapters | crossposted on ao3
Summary:

“I don’t do relationships,” Jimin spills in the fresh air of the fast food – a mixed smell of hamburgers, ketchup and french fries surrounding them. “I enjoy the conquest and the flirting part better. Relationships are always so boring and predictable. Not to mention most of the times fake.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes and laughs, pretending he doesn’t feel his heart clench and slightly sink inside his chest.
“You’re helpless.”
Jimin smiles at him, and it’s almost unfair. “Call me realistic.” he corrects, taking a greasy thumb till his lips to clean it out of the oil of the food. He repeats the same action with the rest of his fingers. Jungkook has to divert his gaze, scared he might end up staring too hard.
He snorts with a made up irritation.
“I call you a pain in the ass.”

“Love means never having to say you’re sorry”. It’s written with white chalk on the blackboard hanging by the wall a few tables across him. It quotes “love story, 1970” in a smaller calligraphy right beneath the sentence. Jungkook dwells in the words for a while. He observes the vintage posters pending from the newly painted lilac walls around him with a forced interest, as he taps with long fingers on the plastic cup of cola he ordered.
Bullshit, he decides.
What is even supposed to mean? That you can’t mess up because you love someone? Or that you can’t say sorry, because if someone loves you they instantly forgive you, it doesn’t matter what you did?
Either way, bullshit. People give too much credit for things just for being old.
He sighs, the scent of fresh paint invading his lungs. It used to be baby yellow. The walls. Before the place was just a normal coffee shop and not a fast food with a coupled bookstore.
“It’s not going to work out,” Jungkook remembers Namjoon saying when they were passing in front of the place being renovated, “people will have greasy fingers from their hamburgers. How will they touch the books like this? The covers will be all disgusting after some time.”
Jungkook just shrugged back then. He doesn’t really remember if he agreed or not. But, it turns out Namjoon was wrong.
There is a glass wall separating the bookstore from the fast food, so the smell of french fries and cheddar won’t mix with the scent of newly printed copies and fresh ink – also, people has enough sense to clean their hands before moving to the books section, so, by far, the recent business seems to be going very well.
Jungkook can’t decide if he prefers the prettier environment it became after the reform, or the calmness it used to have before the appealing design of modernity attracted an alarming number of people.
Probably the calmness, since it wouldn’t take so long for Jimin to change a wrong order. The waiter had somehow mixed it with someone else’s, getting the boy a double chicken with extra cheddar when he had asked for a steak with barbecue sauce and cream cheese.
After opening his hamburger, Jimin had grimaced with the funniest – and maybe kind of cute? – nose scrunch ever. “I hate cheddar.” He stated, as if it wasn’t obvious by the utterly disgusted expression on his face.
Another discovery for his on-making list of things about Park Jimin.
“How dare you?!” Jungkook had brought a hand to his chest at the declaration, just for the sake of accentuating drama. “I trusted you.” He choked out in fake offense, hoping to hear the older boy’s laugh.
Unfortunately, he had been given only a faint chuckle followed by a roll of eyes and a “You’re an idiot, Jeon. I’ll be right back.”, before Jimin got up from his seat and disappeared on his walk till the counter, in search for the right order.
They’ve known each other for five months now – not that Jungkook is counting, it just happened for them to meet on the exact same day the latest movie of Avengers was out, so it also just happened for him to have the day tracked in his mind. Coincidences of life.
Anyway, it’s little time – Jungkook knows –, and it was definitely not enough to deepen their relationship the way he wished – but, nevertheless, it’s nice. They are past the awkward silences and the weird topic’s conversations it has some time now, and it isn’t like they are the most intimate people in the world, but yeah, they have some intimacy. Enough that Jungkook has grown used to regularly tease Jimin about his height or – this one Jimin hates the most – his fingers.
He bites the inner part of his cheek in order to repress a smile at the memory of Jimin cutely glaring at him with rosy cheeks when Jungkook told him he had baby hands for the first time. He tries not to think about it for too long though, scared he might blush just as hard as Jimin did that day.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

have you ever encountered a religious concept that you couldn't stomach?

Okay confession time I am TERRIFIED of my soul or consciousness ceasing to exist after death. Like it’s theologically defensible and shows up as a possible afterlife in plenty of traditions as either the end of the cycle of reincarnation or merging totally with the Godhead whatever, but no. After death, I don’t want a crown and a bouquet of congratulatory flowers and quiet retirement. I don’t want an end to my bodily suffering and sadness and struggle. Let me keep striving. Let me keep asking questions and seeking after answers and serving the Ultimate. Give me an internship with an angel or let me be born again on earth or let me wander heaven’s’ libraries for an eternity but don’t wipe me away like chalk from a blackboard or wrap me up in a soft warm endless oblivion. Let me live. Let me help. Even if it hurts. 

bad dreams pt i

there is a reason they don’t tear the old houses down. there’s a reason they don’t fix them up, don’t try to keep living in them anymore either. i’m talking about the peeling houses you pass on the highway, in between long stretches of corn and wheat. there’s a doublewide trailer glowing television blue, and there’s the rotting corpse of a home resting not far behind. the first set is enough to make you wonder. the third and fourth make you worry, especially while driving through nameless land on a moonless night. 

what’s keeping them there? the houses and the people. how long have the same families lived here, slept here on frozen fields untouched by suburban sprawl? did they come here from somewhere else? have they always been here? bound by the earth, fated to protect their dirt and all that lives beneath it. 

try to keep your eyes on the road, but the ghost homes beckon you. caving porches, broken windows. a gaping roof reveals a white brick chimney. columns crumbling like blackboard chalk. come too close and the wind blowing through the moldy wood makes it look as though they’re breathing.

they say old houses sigh and creak. but not all old houses scream.

keep driving

Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl all work at Los Alamos. Pearl is a meticulous mathematician, whereas Amethyst is the scatterbrained engineer who goes through bouts of messy brilliance that result in chalk scrawled across every blackboard and snacks left all over the lab. Garnet is the team leader who keeps everything together. All are ex-military. Rose was a Captain who died in the war. Peridot joins the team when she arrives at Los Alamos in 1947.

The three of them take care of Steven since Rose died. He technically isn’t allowed on site, but Amethyst often sneaks him into the lab regardless, swearing him to secrecy. They refer to these as their “secret missions” which alarms Peridot at one point.

During her time there, Peridot ends up befriending them. Garnet invites her to family dinner and it turns into a routine for her and Lapis to attend at the end of every week.

Peridot’s still new to this………

Snowbaz Oneshot

~fluff~ Forgot to post a fic yesterday, so have this! I wrote it a while ago but I love it still.

(they hate each other irl but are online friends au) (college au)

(Baz’s point of view)

I glared across the room at Simon Snow, an annoying boy who I, sadly, have the misfortune of sharing a dorm with. He was just… so… annoying. I couldn’t exactly explain why, but I knew I hated him. At least I forced my brain to think I did. I hate a crush on the little prick in high school, but when I realized I did, I pushed it to the back of my brain and instead of thinking about how it would feel to date him, I thought about all the little ticks he did that annoyed me. Like he didn’t fold his clothes before putting them away. He ate ramen so messily and dripped it on the floor. His half of the room was generally a mess, clothes on the floor, bed unmade, homework strewn about his desk… but I had to admit, it was much more personalized than my side. He had a bulletin board above his desk, and he pinned everything to it. Photos, notes, reminders, magazine articles… his whole life was laid out on that bulletin board. But on my side of the room, there was virtually nothing that could say it was mine. Everything was impeccably neat, everything put away, pens and homework papers neatly organized, all my textbooks lined up by class. On my bulletin board I only put things for school. There was only one thing from home that really said it was mine, and that was my violin. It stayed under the bed most of the time. Snow didn’t even know I played. But when he went out, I took it from its case and played my heart out. It was the one thing I gave all my passion to. I sighed again, looking up at the teacher droning on at the front of the classroom. I’d already read ahead in the textbook and I’d easily understood everything the teacher was talking about now. I was top of my class, but my spot there was dangerously close to being overtaken by Penelope Bunce, an annoying blue haired girl who seemed to be at my dorm way too much for my liking. She and Snow were inseparable, and they both didn’t trust me at all. I liked it better that way. I didn’t want them up in my business. 

I was jolted from my thoughts again at the sound of my name being called. “Basilton Pitch,” the teacher said, and I sat up straight. 

“Yes, sir?”

“Daydreaming, Basil?”

I flushed red with anger and embarrassment. “No, sir, only further thinking about the theory you’re explaining.”

The teacher, whose name was Professor Smith, looked confused. “You don’t mean you understand it already, Mr. Pitch?”

I shrugged, trying to come of as nonchalant. “But of course, Professor. I read ahead in the textbook, you see.”

Smith looked impressed. “And you understand this without further explanation?”

“Yes, I did, sir. In fact, I was only thinking there might be a loophole in this theory that doesn’t quite match up with what we discussed last class.”

Smith held out his piece of chalk, gesturing to the blackboard behind him. I got up from my seat, feeling the glares from Snow and Bunce. They hated me showing off. I loved making them mad. I took the chalk from the professor and began to explain to him what I had in fact been thinking about the night before. As I scribbled notes and equations on the board, Smith looked on, thoroughly impressed with the deep thought I’d went into. 

“Yes, yes, of course…” he murmured, looking over my calculations. “Everything seems to be in order… but you see here, when this variable is solved, then..” he went on again, going into deep detail about my theory. A quick glance about the room told me that only a few people were actually interested in this physics debate. One of them was Bunce, and she was giving me a death glare from the back of the room. I gave her a little smirk, and I saw a few girls in the corner practically melt (I can’t help it, I’m unfairly attractive), but Bunce simply pushed her glasses up her nose and went back to taking notes, occasionally sending a glare my way. Snow rolled his eyes when I caught his gaze, going back to staring out the window, but I couldn’t help but notice how the prism that was hanging in the window caught the light, sending a rainbow across his golden bronze curls and lighting up his sapphire eyes. I shook my head slightly, shaking myself free from my thoughts again. What was I thinking? My brain had long since accepted that Snow would never like me.

I discussed theories and physics with Professor Smith until class was over. Finally. I was getting rather bored of trying to defend myself against a professor. Snow and Bunce left together, gathering up their things and putting them away, obviously not in a rush to get anywhere. They probably had a bit of free time before their next class. I wasn’t so lucky, however. I had ten minutes to get all the way across campus. I hastily shoved my things into my backpack and rushed out the door, pushing past Snow. I walked briskly down the sidewalk, not wanting to appear flustered. I always maintained a cool, collected appearance, even when my thoughts were all jumbled up like they were now. I hadn’t thought about Simon like that since freshman year. I thought for sure I didn’t like him anymore… but as our arms brushed on the way out the door, my heart skipped a beat. I placed a hand on my chest now. It was still beating fast. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. It wasn’t really working right now, especially with me being so stressed. I had a ton of homework lately, at least two or more hours a night. Snow was just as stressed as I was, but he had a harder time hiding it.

I entered my next classroom three minutes early and sat down in my usual seat. A few more people filed in before class officially started, including Agatha Wellbelove. It was a bit too obvious that she sort of liked me. She tried her best to sit next to me and talk to me every class, and I gave her a small smile or a bite of a conversation just to sate her, but I only did it to annoy Snow, who she, in fact, was dating, even if it was on and off. She sat just behind me today, and I could practically feel her gaze on the back of my head, but I ignored her, pulling out my essay due in this class. The papers were collected and the teacher began droning on again, something about aberrations and archetypes. I personally preferred science to English, but I had to take at least one English class for my major. 

For the rest of the day I struggled through my classes. Some days I was completely entranced with my professor’s lectures, but today was not one of those days. I went back to the dorm before dinner to find Snow and Bunce sitting at his desk, Bunce trying to calm Simon down about some overdue report. Apparantly he thought it was due next Tuesday, when it was, in fact, due this Tuesday, tomorrow. Penelope cut her eyes at me as I walked in, but I ignored her. It was my room too. She wasn’t even technically supposed to be in here, and I hated it, but I knew if I reported her, Snow would do everything he could to get back at me. Knowing him, he’d probably steal my secret stash of ramen from the sock drawer in my dresser. He’d do anything for extra food. 

After a while, Bunce left, and Simon and I were left alone. I was reading some old treaty or declaration or something similar, but I kept having to go back and reread because I was getting distracted by Snow. He bit his lip in concentration, running a hand through his golden brown curls, and I blushed, burying my face in the papers I was failing at reading. What was happening to me today? I watched Simon in silence as he tapped away at his laptop. After a while he leaned back in his chair, sighing. His head lolled back over the top of his chair, and his eyes closed. His curly hair flopped over the chair and his forehead, catching the fading light of the setting sun. After a few minutes I realized he was asleep. From personal experience, I knew he was a deep sleeper, and he probably wouldn’t be up until late tomorrow morning. I knew he didn’t choose any classes before nine o clock on any morning, and I decided to let him get some sleep. He needed it. Except that paper must still be undone… I glanced over my own homework. I was almost done anyway… I put it aside and got up, standing next to Simon, who was now snoring lightly, fast asleep. I gently ran the tips of my fingers through his hair. It was so soft! I brushed it from his forehead, and, spontaneously, kissed his forehead gently. He stayed asleep, and I blushed. What was I doing today? I briefly wondered if I could lift the boy… I wasn’t on the football team for nothing. I gently lifted his feet from the ground and his head from the chair, and, when he didn’t even stir, I gently hoisted him into my arms. I nearly dropped him, my heart was beating so hard. What was I doing? Here I was, holding Simon Snow in my arms like he was my lover (at this thought I blushed even more). I laid him down carefully in his bed and pulled up his covers. I grabbed his laptop from his desk and skimmed through the essay he was writing. It was from our government class that we had together. It had been assigned two weeks ago, but it was just like Snow to do it the night before. I’d finished mine three days after it was assigned. 

I stayed up until nearly midnight finishing Snow’s essay. When I finished, I saved it, closed his laptop, and placed it back on his desk. I quickly changed from my jeans into sweatpants and pulled off my shirt. I usually slept shirtless, especially on warm nights like this. Simon was still fast asleep. I leaned over the edge of his bed, watching him breathe. It was a bit creepy, I know, but even though I’d tried to repress this hopeless love for five years, it was still there. I was taken over by a strong feeling of something indescribable, and before I could convince myself otherwise, I bent down and kissed the bronze haired boy on the mouth. I broke away quickly, blushing, and before Snow could wake up and see me like this, I climbed into my bed, facing away from him. 

The next morning I woke first. It was 8 am. I had two hours till my next class, and I contemplated going back to bed, but I decided to have some breakfast instead and try and get some more of my homework done. I was sitting at my desk, studying for a test I had this afternoon when I heard Simon getting out of bed. I didn’t look back at him as he shuffled around, grabbing clothes from his drawers. He stopped to look at me. 

“Well aren’t you up early, huh, Pitch?”

I shrugged, glancing at the clock. It was 8:49. “Not that early, Snow, look at a clock.” Simon grabbed the digital clock from my desk, reading the time. He dropped it and raced to the bathroom to get dressed. 

“I’m gonna be late, Pitch, why didn’t you wake me up?” He ran out again, wearing khaki pants and a white t shirt. He pulled on a sweatshirt and ran his hand through his hair, but it still looked a mess. He grabbed his backpack and started to reach for his laptop when he realized. “Shit,” I heard him mutter to himself. I spun around my chair.

“Problem, Snow?” I asked, cool as ever. 

He shook his head numbly, grabbing his laptop and striding out the door. I smiled slightly as the door slammed behind him. What a pleasant surprise he’ll get when he realizes his essay is already finished. I wonder if he’ll realize it’s me or if he’ll be stuck wondering if he was so tired he didn’t remember finishing it and getting into bed. 

I gathered my things together as well, but I was as in a rush as Simon was. His first class today started at 9:05, my first class was at 9:30. I took a quick shower and got dressed in a similar outfit that I wore yesterday, nothing too fancy, just some black jeans, a black hoodie, and a dark blue beanie. I slung my bag over my shoulder and shoved my hands in my pockets. I walked a few blocks down the street to the nearest Starbucks to get a coffee before class and sat down in the lecture hall ten minutes early. Only two or three people were already here. I took out my phone and opened up Skype. One new message from my friend, IceandSnow (or Ice, as I call him. I found it a bit ironic that my best friend I called Ice and my enemy I called Snow) I clicked on the little message button.

‘Hey, Baz!’ the message read. The few friends that I do have call me Baz, not Basil. Nobody on this campus calls me Baz. I’ve only ever had one real life friend, and when she skipped a grade in junior year and left for college a year before me, she never talked to me again. I assumed she was busy with school for a while, but after two years I’ve given up. So now I’ve only got Ice, mainly, and a couple other people in our main group chat. I clicked away from it into personal messaging, where Ice had sent me the message. 

'Hey Ice, what’s up?’ I typed. He responded a few seconds later. 

'Nothing much, just in class. Totally bored right now.’

'Me too. I’ve got seven minutes till my teacher starts to drone again. I’ve already had him twice this week.’

'Ugh. sorry.’

Our conversation went back and forth like this until the teacher at the front of the room cleared his throat loudly, signaling he was about to start, and you all better be paying attention or god save you on the final. I sent one last message before sliding my phone into the front pocket of my backpack.

'Gtg Ice. Talk later.’

I pulled out a notebook to take notes, scribbling the date and the subject at the top of a clean page. I sighed. It was already more than halfway through the year and I could not wait for summer. 

A few hours later I stumbled into the bright sunlight for the last time that day. Finally I could go back to my dorm and have at least some time to myself. When I got back, Simon was already there, sprawled out on his bed, texting somebody, from what I could tell. I dropped my backpack on the floor by my desk and pulled out my own phone to see another message from Ice. 

'Done with class yet?’

'Yeah, just got back.’

Simon looked over at me, confused. “What?” I snapped, a little too fast. “Am I not allowed to talk to my friends?”

Simon recovered fast from his glance, although he still looked confused. I wonder why. “Wow, you’ve got friends, Pitch?”

I rolled my eyes, preferring to not respond. I didn’t want to fight with Snow.

'So how was your day?’ Ice asked.

'Eh. Ok.’

'What’s wrong?’

'Ah, nothing much. Just gotta share my dorm with an annoying little prick.’

'Haha… except I know you better. You told me that annoying little prick is actually your crush of.. what, five years?’

'Oh, shut up. He is a bit annoying sometimes though. He gives me these strange looks, like he knows me from somewhere else.’

'Oh. Well, don’t worry too much about it, I’m sure he’s probably just trying to mess with you. At least you don’t have to deal with my annoying room mate.’

'Yes, well, you’ve got the same story as I do, Ice, you’ve got a crush on him too.’

'Shh… we can be secretly gay for our room mates together.’

I nearly laughed aloud, but I restrained myself before Snow noticed. 'So… Ice. I know you’re my best friend and all, but I don’t actually know you that well. I only met you this year, after all.’ I paused, thinking. 'Where do you live?’

'Trying to stalk me Bazzy?’

’…maybe :p’

'I live in England.’

'Wait, really? I thought you lived in America! I live in England too!’

'Huh? Maybe we can arrange to see each other sometime!! Wouldn’t that be great?’

I grinned. 'Yeah!’

'Sorry to break up the happy conversation here, Baz, but I’ve got a ton of homework to do. Mind if I go?’

'Course not. Talk later.’

'Yep.’

I saw Simon moving from the corner of my eye. He turned his phone off, leaving it on his bed, and went and sat down at his desk. I stared at him. That was weird. Had to do homework the same time as Ice? It had to be a coincidence. I glanced at the clock on my phone. I should probably do homework too. 

A few hours later I flopped back on my bed, tired. I picked up my phone and sent a message to Ice. 'You there?’ Across the room, Snow’s phone dinged and he picked it up. I stared at it. Had to be a coincidence. Had to be. 

'Yeah’

'So, I’ve been thinking….’

'Oh no’

'Oh shut up. I’m being serious.’

'Ok, ok, sorry. What’s up?’

'We should do a video call.’

Simon got up, falling onto his bed as well with his phone, smiling at something. Probably a text from his girlfriend. Did he have a girlfriend?

'k’

I took a deep breath, calming butterflies in my stomach. Why was I nervous? I pressed the little video tape button in the corner and there was a ding as the call started to go through. There was a simultaneous ding from Snow’s phone and I glanced over. It couldn’t be… I looked back at my phone to see the shocked face of Simon Snow staring back at me. I launched myself off my bed. 

“Ice?” I questioned, and my voice came through Snow’s phone as well.

“Baz?” he said, and I heard his voice through my phone. 

I turned bright red, realizing what this meant. Secret gay crushes on our roommate? That obviously meant… that meant… Simon Snow had a crush on me?

I grabbed my hoodie and ran out the door.

What was I supposed to do?

I heard Simon calling my name, but I ran out the front door of our dorm building into the cool air of the night. I kept running. My secret was out. My enemy… or was he? knew that I had a crush on him. He knew the other side of me that I only showed to people that mean a lot to me. But he means a lot to me, doesn’t he?

I heard the dorm door slam behind me, and I run faster. Snow must be following me. I was on the football team. I could outrun him. I ran and ran, for what must be at least ten minutes. I had a stitch in my side, but Snow was still running, panting behind me. Finally I stopped, leaning against a lamppost, panting, completely tuckered out. Simon ran up beside me, stopping a few feet away. I managed to catch my breath and raise my head to look him in the eye. I stared into his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes and those handsome bronze curls reflecting the light from the lamppost. I knew I was blushing. I had to be. Simon was too. He somehow managed a small smile and I almost melted. I was completely and utterly in love with this boy. He stepped closer, further into the light, and held out his hand. I carefully, cautiously, gingerly took it, and he entwined his fingers into mine, squeezing my hand. He burst out laughing, and I almost pulled away. Was he laughing at me?

No. “You have a crush on me, Baz?” My heart skips a beat hearing my nickname come from his lips. I flush red, looking down, but he brushes his other hand under my chin, lifting my head up. “And… and I have a crush on you. I tried to convince myself I hated you because I thought you hated me.”

“I did the same thing,” I breathe. I laugh, shakily, nervous. “So what do we do now?”

Simon blushed. “Do you… do you want… to.. be my boyfriend?”

I swear in that moment my heart leaped through my throat. “Y-yes!” I stuttered out eventually, and Simon laughed. I laughed too, with him. This was the best night of my life. I wanted to kiss him. I had to kiss him. His mouth was open, breathing heavily, and his eyes were shining. His hand was embraced in mine. I started to lean forward, towards him. 

And then he kisses me. 

8

Goldfish Ghost does not begin with the death of a fish. It begins with the birth of a ghost.

Goldfish Ghost
by Lemony Snicket, Lisa Brown (Illustrator)
oaring Brook Press
2017, 40 pages, 8.4 x 10.4 inches, Hardcover
$12 Buy on Amazon

Goldfish Ghost does not begin with the death of a fish. It begins with the birth of a ghost. The wonderfully clever, silly, sweet story about a ghost in search of good company comes from husband and wife team Lemony Snicket and Lisa Brown.

Though the story is great, it’s the little details in Brown’s illustrations that make me love this book. Goldfish Ghost (and the ghosts of the sea creatures he meets) floats through the story belly-up. Tucked into the beach scene is pair of people ghosts, watching the waves in old-timey bathing suits. The subtle way in which Brown uses scrawled, faint, white line—ghost-like in its own right, like the chalked words erased from a blackboard but not really gone—is so lovely and smart, it’s probably my favorite thing about the whole book.

– Marykate Smith Despres

May 2, 2017

Snowbaz Oneshot

~Snowbaz fluff, also posted to my primary blog - word count 3636~

(college au)

(Baz’s point of view)

I glared across the room at Simon Snow, an annoying boy who I, sadly, have the misfortune of sharing a dorm with. He was just… so… annoying. I couldn’t exactly explain why, but I knew I hated him. At least I forced my brain to think I did. I hate a crush on the little prick in high school, but when I realized I did, I pushed it to the back of my brain and instead of thinking about how it would feel to date him, I thought about all the little ticks he did that annoyed me. Like he didn’t fold his clothes before putting them away. He ate ramen so messily and dripped it on the floor. His half of the room was generally a mess, clothes on the floor, bed unmade, homework strewn about his desk… but I had to admit, it was much more personalized than my side. He had a bulletin board above his desk, and he pinned everything to it. Photos, notes, reminders, magazine articles… his whole life was laid out on that bulletin board. But on my side of the room, there was virtually nothing that could say it was mine. Everything was impeccably neat, everything put away, pens and homework papers neatly organized, all my textbooks lined up by class. On my bulletin board I only put things for school. There was only one thing from home that really said it was mine, and that was my violin. It stayed under the bed most of the time. Snow didn’t even know I played. But when he went out, I took it from its case and played my heart out. It was the one thing I gave all my passion to. I sighed again, looking up at the teacher droning on at the front of the classroom. I’d already read ahead in the textbook and I’d easily understood everything the teacher was talking about now. I was top of my class, but my spot there was dangerously close to being overtaken by Penelope Bunce, an annoying blue haired girl who seemed to be at my dorm way too much for my liking. She and Snow were inseparable, and they both didn’t trust me at all. I liked it better that way. I didn’t want them up in my business. 

I was jolted from my thoughts again at the sound of my name being called. “Basilton Pitch,” the teacher said, and I sat up straight. 

“Yes, sir?”

“Daydreaming, Basil?”

I flushed red with anger and embarrassment. “No, sir, only further thinking about the theory you’re explaining.”

The teacher, whose name was Professor Smith, looked confused. “You don’t mean you understand it already, Mr. Pitch?”

I shrugged, trying to come of as nonchalant. “But of course, Professor. I read ahead in the textbook, you see.”

Smith looked impressed. “And you understand this without further explanation?”

“Yes, I did, sir. In fact, I was only thinking there might be a loophole in this theory that doesn’t quite match up with what we discussed last class.”

Smith held out his piece of chalk, gesturing to the blackboard behind him. I got up from my seat, feeling the glares from Snow and Bunce. They hated me showing off. I loved making them mad. I took the chalk from the professor and began to explain to him what I had in fact been thinking about the night before. As I scribbled notes and equations on the board, Smith looked on, thoroughly impressed with the deep thought I’d went into. 

“Yes, yes, of course…” he murmured, looking over my calculations. “Everything seems to be in order… but you see here, when this variable is solved, then..” he went on again, going into deep detail about my theory. A quick glance about the room told me that only a few people were actually interested in this physics debate. One of them was Bunce, and she was giving me a death glare from the back of the room. I gave her a little smirk, and I saw a few girls in the corner practically melt (I can’t help it, I’m unfairly attractive), but Bunce simply pushed her glasses up her nose and went back to taking notes, occasionally sending a glare my way. Snow rolled his eyes when I caught his gaze, going back to staring out the window, but I couldn’t help but notice how the prism that was hanging in the window caught the light, sending a rainbow across his golden bronze curls and lighting up his sapphire eyes. I shook my head slightly, shaking myself free from my thoughts again. What was I thinking? My brain had long since accepted that Snow would never like me.

I discussed theories and physics with Professor Smith until class was over. Finally. I was getting rather bored of trying to defend myself against a professor. Snow and Bunce left together, gathering up their things and putting them away, obviously not in a rush to get anywhere. They probably had a bit of free time before their next class. I wasn’t so lucky, however. I had ten minutes to get all the way across campus. I hastily shoved my things into my backpack and rushed out the door, pushing past Snow. I walked briskly down the sidewalk, not wanting to appear flustered. I always maintained a cool, collected appearance, even when my thoughts were all jumbled up like they were now. I hadn’t thought about Simon like that since freshman year. I thought for sure I didn’t like him anymore… but as our arms brushed on the way out the door, my heart skipped a beat. I placed a hand on my chest now. It was still beating fast. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. It wasn’t really working right now, especially with me being so stressed. I had a ton of homework lately, at least two or more hours a night. Snow was just as stressed as I was, but he had a harder time hiding it.

I entered my next classroom three minutes early and sat down in my usual seat. A few more people filed in before class officially started, including Agatha Wellbelove. It was a bit too obvious that she sort of liked me. She tried her best to sit next to me and talk to me every class, and I gave her a small smile or a bite of a conversation just to sate her, but I only did it to annoy Snow, who she, in fact, was dating, even if it was on and off. She sat just behind me today, and I could practically feel her gaze on the back of my head, but I ignored her, pulling out my essay due in this class. The papers were collected and the teacher began droning on again, something about aberrations and archetypes. I personally preferred science to English, but I had to take at least one English class for my major. 

For the rest of the day I struggled through my classes. Some days I was completely entranced with my professor’s lectures, but today was not one of those days. I went back to the dorm before dinner to find Snow and Bunce sitting at his desk, Bunce trying to calm Simon down about some overdue report. Apparantly he thought it was due next Tuesday, when it was, in fact, due this Tuesday, tomorrow. Penelope cut her eyes at me as I walked in, but I ignored her. It was my room too. She wasn’t even technically supposed to be in here, and I hated it, but I knew if I reported her, Snow would do everything he could to get back at me. Knowing him, he’d probably steal my secret stash of ramen from the sock drawer in my dresser. He’d do anything for extra food. 

After a while, Bunce left, and Simon and I were left alone. I was reading some old treaty or declaration or something similar, but I kept having to go back and reread because I was getting distracted by Snow. He bit his lip in concentration, running a hand through his golden brown curls, and I blushed, burying my face in the papers I was failing at reading. What was happening to me today? I watched Simon in silence as he tapped away at his laptop. After a while he leaned back in his chair, sighing. His head lolled back over the top of his chair, and his eyes closed. His curly hair flopped over the chair and his forehead, catching the fading light of the setting sun. After a few minutes I realized he was asleep. From personal experience, I knew he was a deep sleeper, and he probably wouldn’t be up until late tomorrow morning. I knew he didn’t choose any classes before nine o clock on any morning, and I decided to let him get some sleep. He needed it. Except that paper must still be undone… I glanced over my own homework. I was almost done anyway… I put it aside and got up, standing next to Simon, who was now snoring lightly, fast asleep. I gently ran the tips of my fingers through his hair. It was so soft! I brushed it from his forehead, and, spontaneously, kissed his forehead gently. He stayed asleep, and I blushed. What was I doing today? I briefly wondered if I could lift the boy… I wasn’t on the football team for nothing. I gently lifted his feet from the ground and his head from the chair, and, when he didn’t even stir, I gently hoisted him into my arms. I nearly dropped him, my heart was beating so hard. What was I doing? Here I was, holding Simon Snow in my arms like he was my lover (at this thought I blushed even more). I laid him down carefully in his bed and pulled up his covers. I grabbed his laptop from his desk and skimmed through the essay he was writing. It was from our government class that we had together. It had been assigned two weeks ago, but it was just like Snow to do it the night before. I’d finished mine three days after it was assigned. 

I stayed up until nearly midnight finishing Snow’s essay. When I finished, I saved it, closed his laptop, and placed it back on his desk. I quickly changed from my jeans into sweatpants and pulled off my shirt. I usually slept shirtless, especially on warm nights like this. Simon was still fast asleep. I leaned over the edge of his bed, watching him breathe. It was a bit creepy, I know, but even though I’d tried to repress this hopeless love for five years, it was still there. I was taken over by a strong feeling of something indescribable, and before I could convince myself otherwise, I bent down and kissed the bronze haired boy on the mouth. I broke away quickly, blushing, and before Snow could wake up and see me like this, I climbed into my bed, facing away from him. 

The next morning I woke first. It was 8 am. I had two hours till my next class, and I contemplated going back to bed, but I decided to have some breakfast instead and try and get some more of my homework done. I was sitting at my desk, studying for a test I had this afternoon when I heard Simon getting out of bed. I didn’t look back at him as he shuffled around, grabbing clothes from his drawers. He stopped to look at me. 

“Well aren’t you up early, huh, Pitch?”

I shrugged, glancing at the clock. It was 8:49. “Not that early, Snow, look at a clock.” Simon grabbed the digital clock from my desk, reading the time. He dropped it and raced to the bathroom to get dressed. 

“I’m gonna be late, Pitch, why didn’t you wake me up?” He ran out again, wearing khaki pants and a white t shirt. He pulled on a sweatshirt and ran his hand through his hair, but it still looked a mess. He grabbed his backpack and started to reach for his laptop when he realized. “Shit,” I heard him mutter to himself. I spun around my chair.

“Problem, Snow?” I asked, cool as ever. 

He shook his head numbly, grabbing his laptop and striding out the door. I smiled slightly as the door slammed behind him. What a pleasant surprise he’ll get when he realizes his essay is already finished. I wonder if he’ll realize it’s me or if he’ll be stuck wondering if he was so tired he didn’t remember finishing it and getting into bed. 

I gathered my things together as well, but I was as in a rush as Simon was. His first class today started at 9:05, my first class was at 9:30. I took a quick shower and got dressed in a similar outfit that I wore yesterday, nothing too fancy, just some black jeans, a black hoodie, and a dark blue beanie. I slung my bag over my shoulder and shoved my hands in my pockets. I walked a few blocks down the street to the nearest Starbucks to get a coffee before class and sat down in the lecture hall ten minutes early. Only two or three people were already here. I took out my phone and opened up Skype. One new message from my friend, IceandSnow (or Ice, as I call him. I found it a bit ironic that my best friend I called Ice and my enemy I called Snow) I clicked on the little message button.

‘Hey, Baz!’ the message read. The few friends that I do have call me Baz, not Basil. Nobody on this campus calls me Baz. I’ve only ever had one real life friend, and when she skipped a grade in junior year and left for college a year before me, she never talked to me again. I assumed she was busy with school for a while, but after two years I’ve given up. So now I’ve only got Ice, mainly, and a couple other people in our main group chat. I clicked away from it into personal messaging, where Ice had sent me the message. 

‘Hey Ice, what’s up?’ I typed. He responded a few seconds later. 

'Nothing much, just in class. Totally bored right now.’

'Me too. I’ve got seven minutes till my teacher starts to drone again. I’ve already had him twice this week.’

'Ugh. sorry.’

Our conversation went back and forth like this until the teacher at the front of the room cleared his throat loudly, signaling he was about to start, and you all better be paying attention or god save you on the final. I sent one last message before sliding my phone into the front pocket of my backpack.

'Gtg Ice. Talk later.’

I pulled out a notebook to take notes, scribbling the date and the subject at the top of a clean page. I sighed. It was already more than halfway through the year and I could not wait for summer. 

A few hours later I stumbled into the bright sunlight for the last time that day. Finally I could go back to my dorm and have at least some time to myself. When I got back, Simon was already there, sprawled out on his bed, texting somebody, from what I could tell. I dropped my backpack on the floor by my desk and pulled out my own phone to see another message from Ice. 

'Done with class yet?’

'Yeah, just got back.’

Simon looked over at me, confused. “What?” I snapped, a little too fast. “Am I not allowed to talk to my friends?”

Simon recovered fast from his glance, although he still looked confused. I wonder why. “Wow, you’ve got friends, Pitch?”

I rolled my eyes, preferring to not respond. I didn’t want to fight with Snow.

'So how was your day?’ Ice asked.

'Eh. Ok.’

'What’s wrong?’

'Ah, nothing much. Just gotta share my dorm with an annoying little prick.’

'Haha… except I know you better. You told me that annoying little prick is actually your crush of.. what, five years?’

'Oh, shut up. He is a bit annoying sometimes though. He gives me these strange looks, like he knows me from somewhere else.’

'Oh. Well, don’t worry too much about it, I’m sure he’s probably just trying to mess with you. At least you don’t have to deal with my annoying room mate.’

'Yes, well, you’ve got the same story as I do, Ice, you’ve got a crush on him too.’

'Shh… we can be secretly gay for our room mates together.’

I nearly laughed aloud, but I restrained myself before Snow noticed. 'So… Ice. I know you’re my best friend and all, but I don’t actually know you that well. I only met you this year, after all.’ I paused, thinking. 'Where do you live?’

'Trying to stalk me Bazzy?’

’…maybe :p’

'I live in England.’

'Wait, really? I thought you lived in America! I live in England too!’

'Huh? Maybe we can arrange to see each other sometime!! Wouldn’t that be great?’

I grinned. 'Yeah!’

'Sorry to break up the happy conversation here, Baz, but I’ve got a ton of homework to do. Mind if I go?’

'Course not. Talk later.’

'Yep.’

I saw Simon moving from the corner of my eye. He turned his phone off, leaving it on his bed, and went and sat down at his desk. I stared at him. That was weird. Had to do homework the same time as Ice? It had to be a coincidence. I glanced at the clock on my phone. I should probably do homework too. 

A few hours later I flopped back on my bed, tired. I picked up my phone and sent a message to Ice. 'You there?’ Across the room, Snow’s phone dinged and he picked it up. I stared at it. Had to be a coincidence. Had to be. 

'Yeah’

'So, I’ve been thinking….’

'Oh no’

'Oh shut up. I’m being serious.’

'Ok, ok, sorry. What’s up?’

'We should do a video call.’

Simon got up, falling onto his bed as well with his phone, smiling at something. Probably a text from his girlfriend. Did he have a girlfriend?

'k’

I took a deep breath, calming butterflies in my stomach. Why was I nervous? I pressed the little video tape button in the corner and there was a ding as the call started to go through. There was a simultaneous ding from Snow’s phone and I glanced over. It couldn’t be… I looked back at my phone to see the shocked face of Simon Snow staring back at me. I launched myself off my bed. 

“Ice?” I questioned, and my voice came through Snow’s phone as well.

“Baz?” he said, and I heard his voice through my phone. 

I turned bright red, realizing what this meant. Secret gay crushes on our roommate? That obviously meant… that meant… Simon Snow had a crush on me?

I grabbed my hoodie and ran out the door.

What was I supposed to do?

I heard Simon calling my name, but I ran out the front door of our dorm building into the cool air of the night. I kept running. My secret was out. My enemy… or was he? knew that I had a crush on him. He knew the other side of me that I only showed to people that mean a lot to me. But he means a lot to me, doesn’t he?

I heard the dorm door slam behind me, and I run faster. Snow must be following me. I was on the football team. I could outrun him. I ran and ran, for what must be at least ten minutes. I had a stitch in my side, but Snow was still running, panting behind me. Finally I stopped, leaning against a lamppost, panting, completely tuckered out. Simon ran up beside me, stopping a few feet away. I managed to catch my breath and raise my head to look him in the eye. I stared into his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes and those handsome bronze curls reflecting the light from the lamppost. I knew I was blushing. I had to be. Simon was too. He somehow managed a small smile and I almost melted. I was completely and utterly in love with this boy. He stepped closer, further into the light, and held out his hand. I carefully, cautiously, gingerly took it, and he entwined his fingers into mine, squeezing my hand. He burst out laughing, and I almost pulled away. Was he laughing at me?

No. “You have a crush on me, Baz?” My heart skips a beat hearing my nickname come from his lips. I flush red, looking down, but he brushes his other hand under my chin, lifting my head up. “And… and I have a crush on you. I tried to convince myself I hated you because I thought you hated me.”

“I did the same thing,” I breathe. I laugh, shakily, nervous. “So what do we do now?”

Simon blushed. “Do you… do you want… to.. be my boyfriend?”

I swear in that moment my heart leaped through my throat. “Y-yes!” I stuttered out eventually, and Simon laughed. I laughed too, with him. This was the best night of my life. I wanted to kiss him. I had to kiss him. His mouth was open, breathing heavily, and his eyes were shining. His hand was embraced in mine. I started to lean forward, towards him. 

And then he kisses me. 

I can’t filter out sounds. I hear the ticking of the clock, the hot water rushing through the heating system, the bird outside, the buzzing of the lamps, the person emptying the dishwasher in the kitchen - and I can’t shut out any of those sounds. How am I supposed to focus on reading when so many sounds constantly demand my attention?

I hear the other students breathe, whispered talking, chairs moving against the floor, pencils against paper, fingers against keyboards, someone having a discussion with the teacher, the turning of pages, chalk against the blackboard, the buzzing from someone’s phone, the music from someones headphones, the sound of someone scratching themselves, sighs, coughing - and I can’t shut out any of those sounds. How am I supposed to focus on my homework when so many sounds constantly demand my attention?

I hear everyone talking, all at once. I hear cutlery against plates, chewing, drinking, I hear mouths and teeth against food, plates and bowls being moved across the tables, I hear liquids being poured, I hear people coughing and breathing and laughing and sighing - and I can’t shut out any of those sounds. How am I supposed to focus on what you’re telling me when I can hardly discern your voice from the voices of the other people in the room?