Box itself-

Sheet music for lining:
Pictures at an Exhibition
Overture in Bb
Nessun Dorma
Echo (Hush Sound)
I Write Sins Not Tragedies
When Summer Takes Flight
Irish Rhapsody
Appalachian Spring
Marukaite Chikyuu (if I can find it)

"If there ever comes a day when we can't be together, keep me in your heart, I'll stay there forever." -Winnie the Pooh
"All was well."
The Road not Taken
"Northern downpour sends its love."
"Things have changed for me, but that's ok."
"So you bid the forest floor goodbye as you race the wind and take to the sky."
"Every day I'm shufflin.'"
Sonet 130 Shakespeare
Sonet 17 Pablo Neruda

owl/phoenix/peacock feathers
possible mix CD
Glow in the Dark Stars
Star stickers
LOTS O' sootballs
Scarecrow and Calcifer from Howl's Moving Castle
Icey Plush
book of people to steal (see list)
Hogwarts Letter


Disney movies
Lion King
Toy Stories 1 and 3
Road to El Dorado

I Write Sins Not Tragedies
I'm not that Girl

Other movies:
Advent Children
Phantom of the Opera
House of Flying Daggers
Moon Child

List of People to Steal:

Percy Jackson
Alex Rider
Artemis Fowl
Series of Unfortunate Events

Black Butler
CLAMP things.
Kingdom Hearts
Professor Layton
Phoenix Wright
Tales of Symphonia


Mystrade Drabble

Greg Lestrade opened his door with the full intention of snapping at whoever was knocking. It was late, it was raining and he’d had a hell of a day. The snarl died in his throat when he found Mycroft Holmes on his doorstep, eyes downcast. 

“I’m sorry.” Mycroft spoke quietly, voice just above the rainfall. “I didn’t know where else to go.” The elder Holmes, only Holmes now, Lestrade reminded himself bitterly, was soaked, despite the umbrella clutched in his fists so hard his knuckles had turned white.

Lestrade sighed, running a hand over his red-rimmed eyes. He stepped aside, motioning with his arm for his former lover to come inside. He couldn’t really imagine how Mycroft must be feeling. The funeral had left him hollow, every breath aching inside his ribs. Lestrade didn’t know how Mycroft managed to stay upright in the wake of his little brother’s death, certainly not after John has informed him it was all Mycroft’s fault.

Mycroft uttered a soft thanks and allowed himself to be ushered into the kitchen, Lestrade’s hand hesitant at his elbow. He stood for a moment, shivering and wet, before Lestrade guided him to a chair at the kitchen table and excused himself to find a towel.

When Lestrade returned, he found that Mycroft had removed his sopping jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. His normally impeccable posture had slumped. With a silent sigh, he settled the towel on the politician’s head, rubbing gently in an effort to dry his hair.

He and Mycroft hadn’t spoken since their breakup. It had been stupid.  A careless remark of Mycroft’s that set Lestrade’s teeth on edge. "And I'm just the dumb cop who warms your bed." He had snarled, hurt fueling his anger. Mycroft had remained silent, and wasn’t that a harsher confirmation than anything he could have said? Lestrade had stormed out and the fact that Mycroft had let him spoke volumes to the detective.

Lestrade was brought from his reverie when he felt Mycroft’s shoulders trembling. He stopped rubbing the towel and pushed it back around Mycroft’s neck. A quiet sound escaped his throat, a hitch in his breathing, and the trembling in his shoulders intensified.

Mycroft brought a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound, a harsh exhalation of air, almost a sob. He startled when Lestrade knelt before him, pulling him into his strong chest with a hand on the back of his neck, rubbing in slow circles. He allowed himself to be cradled, tucking his head beneath Lestrade’s chin. “Gregory,” he murmured, hiding his face in the crook of his neck and shoulder as the tears spilled over to pool in the hollow of Lestrade’s throat.

“Shhh...” Lestrade soothed, holding Mycroft tighter. “I know.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Mycroft’s hair. “I know. I’m here.”

awesome dancing Chinen ^^

(no subject)

Sooooo I had this audition at Ohio University in Athens, Ohio last Wednesday for their Music Therapy program. I'm planning on double-majoring Music Therapy (voice) with Moderate to Severe Intervention Specialist (a special ed teacher for the severely challenged). I just got my letter back from them and...


I cannot even express how happy I am.

Right now I'm at Heidelberg, a uni I pretty much hate, and next year I'll be busting my ass at OU, a uni I love with my entire soul, doing what I feel I'm meant to do. Music Therapy is the whole world to me, it's the core of who I am and I got into the program. ♥ There are only 54 students, including graduate students, in the OU Music Therapy Program. 54 out of 22,000, and I get to be one of them.

Anyway, I'd apologize for the mad spazz buttttttt I'M TOO HAPPY TO.

Still Brothers -A Kaiba Brothers fic

Lame title I know. Sappy, bittersweet kaiba bros fic I've been trying to write for a week and a half. I finally got it to sound on paper the way it sounded in my head.

 Seto Kaiba closed his eyes. His baby brother had just left for college and they had spent their last moments together fighting. Mokuba had stubbornly chosen a college in another country -in America for God’s sake- despite his brother’s disapproval. The brothers had spent the entire last year of Mokuba’s high school arguing over this choice, and somehow Kaiba thought his little brother would change his mind and do whatever his Nii-sama told him to, despite the fact that he’d been Seto and not Nii-sama for the last couple years. 


With a sigh, Kaiba climbed the stairs of his mansion, which had never seemed so empty and alone, rubbing the hollow ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away. As he passed Mokuba’s room, the door standing ajar and the room devoid of nearly all his brother’s possessions, Kaiba winced. He leaned against the doorframe for a moment before he was drawn into it, like a moth to light. 


Kaiba all but collapsed onto Mokuba’s bed, trembling when the scent of his baby brother surrounded him. He wondered how he was going to get through these next four years without his heart. It was true that he had gotten better, less machine-like and more resembling a human, but that was all thanks to Mokuba (despite their nearly-dissolved rivalry, Kaiba still refused to acknowledge Yugi’s part in his renewed humanity). What would Kaiba do if Mokuba decided he liked America enough to stay? What if his love for his brother was outweighed by the love for his new lifestyle? Kaiba shuddered at the thought and tried to push it away. Kaiba was assaulted suddenly by the memory of his and Mokuba’s last fight.


“Seto, I’m leaving now.” Mokuba had called to him, obviously hoping his brother would have come around to the idea of his leaving the country. He looked up at his big brother  with the wide innocent eyes he had somehow never outgrown.


Kaiba shook his head. “You’re not going.” He ordered. “You’re going to pick another school. You are not leaving this country.”  ‘Not leaving me,’ he added in his head. He had his arms folded, eyes narrowed in a look of superiority that was rarely directed at his little brother, usually reserved for his staff or Yugi’s fanclub. 


Mokuba had given a disappointed sigh. At eighteen, he was nearly as tall as his brother. “Don’t do this, not now. This is what I want. Aren’t siblings supposed to support each other?” He looked slightly defeated. He was sick of fighting, but unwilling to give up his dream. “You always said you wanted me to have the opportunity to do the things you couldn’t. So let me go.”


Kaiba stubbornly shook his head. “Siblings don’t desert one another.” He had snapped. “They don’t abandon one another another.” He folded his arms tighter against his chest, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that he was losing this battle -losing his brother, and loss had never been something Kaiba took well. “You are my little brother and you will do as I say!”


Mokuba snapped. “I’m not your little brother any more!” He shouted, hefting the last of his luggage onto his shoulder. He shook his head in frustration. “I can never be my own person unless I get away from you! I hate you!!” He stormed out of the mansion without looking back, leaving Kaiba, eyes wide and chest torn open, to stare after him.


With a soft moan at the unpleasant memory, Kaiba curled up on his brother’s bed, hugging Mokuba’s pillow to his chest and burying his face in it, breathing in the last bit of his brother left in the dilapidated room. He made a choked sound of misery, eyes wet behind his eyelids even if his cheeks weren’t. 


Kaiba couldn’t tell his brother the real reasons he didn’t want the boy to leave. That if something happened to him, (as that seemed to be a common occurrence) his big brother couldn’t be there to save him. That Mokuba would forget about his brother in the bright lights and newfound freedom of America. That Kaiba would shut down completely without him around. Kaibas were proud and never admitted weaknesses such as these, not even to their baby brothers.


Kaiba’s cell phone rang and he was half-tempted to ignore it. He sniffed quickly and scrubbed his wet eyes before opening the phone, not bothering to look at the caller ID. “What is it?”


“I forgot to say I love you, big brother.”


“....Mokie.” Kaiba choked, clutching at the phone as if it were his brother’s hand. Mokie, who hadn’t been Mokie since their orphanage days. “I love you too.”


was that super lame??




Resolutions for the Last New Year of my Childhood

1. Lose 15-20 pounds/get healthier in general.
2. Actually bother to do some homework, especially in Pre-Calc.
3. Be less defensive/rude/judgemental toward everyone.
4. Keep my room clean or at least clean it every weekend.
5. Not need my mom so much, but still always want to be around her.
6. Learn to sew properly.
7. Sing every day.
8. Grow up before I get into college where I have to be grown up.
9. Stop talking so much in choir.
10. Make peace with some people I dislike or who dislike me.
11. Read at least three times a week.
12. Visit my twin before 2011.
13. Make dinner for the family once or twice a week.
14. Remember what it was like to write down what I was feeling, and actually do it. (use LJ to do this)
15. Spend some time with both grandparents.
16. At least attempt to get organized.
17. Do everything I can to keep in contact with my friends when we're all off in different colleges.
18. Be generally happy with who I am, or change what I'm unhappy about.

As of Yet, Untitled.

I rewatched and reread the Data Pair match. And bawled my eyes out during both.  And then this little number wouldn't let me sleep until I wrote it. So this is the product of 5am drabble so I could finally get some sleep. I hope that explains the general suck it seems to be drenched in. T^T But as you all know, I'm a sucker for Yanagi Renji. So here you go.

Yanagi Renji slammed the front door of his soon-to-be old house. Distantly, he heard his father calling that he was late and that they needed to leave now or pay late fees on the moving truck.

Ignoring his father, Renji dashed to his room. Even though he had just seen Sadaharu, he wanted to touch their picture again. He had purposely left the photo out of hsi other boxes so he could hold onto something familiar on the long drive to his new home.

With a hoarse cry of shock, Renji dropped his tennis bag in the doorway, racing to the center of his room. It was completely empty. The picture was gone.

"'Kaa-san!" He yelped, trying to push away the panic and despair seizing his chest. "'K-kaa-san!!"

His mother appeared in his doorway, frowning. "Renji, don't shout." She caught the look on her son's face and the frown morphed into a look of concern. She took a hesitant step into the empty room. "Renji, what's wrong?"

"My picture!" He cried, amber eyes opening accusingly. "It's gone!"

His mother moved to stand beside her son. "Renji, we packed it for you. We didn't want you to forget it; I know how much that picture means to you." She placed  a tentative hand on her usually-mild mannered son's arm.

"N-no, I need it! What if it breaks and then it's ruined?! Sadaharu will h-hate me if I let something happen to it. He...he'll hate me and-" 

Renji hadn't realised he'd been speaking all this aloud, the words escaping his lips as soon as they crossed his mind. He also hadn't realised he was sobbing until his mother was kneeling, her arms around her son, pulling him into the warmth and safety of her chest. The sobs were heart-wrenching, shaking his frail body and his breaths came in ragged, choked gasps, all-the-while babbling mindlessly about his picture and Sadaharu and just how sorry he was.

It took a full fifteen minuted for Renji to completely calm down; to pry his now-cramped hands from the back of his mother's blouse while his father ushered his sister away from the doorway when she paused to stare.

When he finally pulled his face from his mother's collar, Renji's eyes were once again somber and serious, despite being red-rimmed and puffy. "I apologize for my outburst, Okaa-san. It was unnecessary." He mumbled, quickly retreating to grab his tennis bag and follow his sister to the car.

So anyway, I think the ending might be too abrupt, so I might change it later. But what did you guys think?

And if You Just Asked me, I'd Tell You the Truth

Ok, I was searching through my sentbox on yahoo (did you know it keeps EVERYTHING?) and came across this poem I wrote for WWP (Westland Writing Project) freshman year (was that really so long ago?) and I thought I might share it with you, since I can't with my mother:


I was hoping to be out at fifteen
and not leave to eat dinner with
half of me still in the closet

I wanted to hold her hand and maybe even
kiss her and still be able to look my
mother in the eye when I came home.
I wanted everyone to hear about
the boy crushing on me in fifth
period and have it be ok that
I decline because I already have a girlfriend.

I wanted her to meet my parents
without them flinching when our
fingers touched. I wanted to scream
to the world that I love her.
But if that hope is too naiive, then
I want to forget her and let her
forget me, and go back to the
boy in fifth period with the open arms.
And my mother can look at me again.

But I'm too afraid to open my mouth
and my mother too blind to open her eyes
and sometimes I wish she would unlock
my closet and find me curled in a ball
with wet hands and wet face and pull
me into her arms and tell me she loves me.
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