colorful small balls

i saw this image on tumblr and i couldn’t resist 

I went to Kyoto Hushimi-Inari shrine. I also went to there last autumn. I found this terrestrial globe with small color magnetic balls in front of restaurant. I understand that people all over the world visit this restaurant and attach color ball on this terrestrial globe. I was pleased to find that this restaurant is loved by people around the world.

Wren (pt 1 of?)

She calls herself Wren, after Two Things. One is the bird. The small, plainly colored, ball of feathers, sometimes called house wrens, that often flit about unnoticed. Two is another girl. This Wren, who spelled her name Ren, isn’t real. She’s Ren-from-the-book Found, the first–and still most favorite–post apocalyptic story Wren-with-a-W has read. There are others, but that one is closest to her heart.

Which probably makes the Choice a Stupid One, but she makes it, nonetheless. Maybe the Gentry will think she likes birds. Maybe–though that, likely, could have its own consequences.

Unlike some of the others, Wren-with-a-W–like Anne-with-an-e, but without either the fiery hair or tendency to babble–likes the rules at Elsewhere. She likes Rules period. Her life–and her brain–is often chaotic, though she won’t acquire the alphabet soup of abbreviations that explain why till years later.

She doesn’t know, at eighteen, that she has ADHD. All she knows is she’s disorganized, easily distracted, and loses everything she touches. She also doesn’t know that she’s probably Autistic. All she knows is that she has trouble with conversations–starting them, stopping them, keeping them going. She has trouble with loud sounds and her clothes feeling Wrong. And when she loves something, it consumes her.

Sometimes–before she learned better–she thought she might be a changeling. When she was very young, she lost herself, deliberately, inside her mind. She spent hours and hours daydreaming, blocking out the world. When she was a teenager, her bubble popped, and she found herself suddenly in a world that was strange, confusing, and much too loud.

So, Wren-with-a-W likes the Rules. They’re comforting. Follow them and you’ll be safe. Don’t follow them, and there are no promises. And so she follows them. She hoards packets of creamer and shakers of salt and iron nails like they’re going out of style. She carries each in her pockets–and she’s found that the nails double as stim toys.

A few weeks into the fall semester, and Wren has found herself alone in her dorm for the first time. Her roommate has gone. Not Gone, not Replaced, no, nothing so sinister. She’s simply gone home, to visit family. Wren has not. She loves her family, but she doesn’t miss them. Not the way other people seem to.

Alone for the first time, Wren crosses to her bed and pulls out the old chest. Her great-grandmother, Agnes, gave it to her when Wren was twelve. Great-grandmother Agnes was a lot like Wren. She was shy and spacey, quiet and scattered, and she didn’t seem to know what to do with people, either.

As she opens the trunk, the smell hits her first. There’s the sharp, burning-in-her-nose smell of mothballs, and under that, something even more bitter, salty like blood, like iron. Like the sea.

The blanket at the bottom is dark brown, like mahogany and chocolate stirred together. One side is rough. When Wren pets it, she’s reminded of Boris, her old mohair teddy bear Mom made her leave home, because You-know-how-college-kids-are-you-don’t-want-anything-to-happen-to-it. The other side is smooth. When Wren touches it, she’s reminded of her favorite suede couch, the big brown one at Grandma Ruth’s. She loved laying on it and running her hand up and down the arm while she watched My Little Pony The Movie for the million and first time.

Wrapping the blanket around her, Wren shuts the trunk and slides it under the bed. Great grandmother made her promise not to show either trunk nor blanket to a living soul, and so far, Wren has kept her word. Mom says that Great-grandma-was-getting-senile-before-she-passed-it’s-a-shame-really. Wren knows different, but that, too, is part of the secret.

There are other trunks, other young women in Wren’s family with blankets like these. But Wren has never fit in with them. Those girls, to a one, know how to get along in the world. They don’t lose things the moment they set them aside. They don’t misunderstand a look, a gesture, an implied demand. They know how to follow all the unwritten Social Rules. Not Wren. Not now, and maybe not ever.

So, blanket wrapped tight tight tight around her, Wren hoes to the couch and curls up. She turns on the TV, then the DVD player. Pressing play on the remote, she settles in, sighing happily, as My Little Pony Tales begins playing.

The blanket isn’t the only reason she waits till her roommate leaves before watching tv.

To Be Continued.


Settling Down

Jonerys Week 2k17 Day 1: Fluff

It’s mostly fluff. Really. (Also: long time no see?) 

AU where Jon and Dany decide to leave Westeros after the Battle for the Dawn and settle in the house with the red door to raise their children in peace. 

They were all up early that day.

Rhaenyra was up first; she was always an early riser and she liked to sit on the balcony off their rooms that looked out at the harbor and watch the fishermen take their boats out to the sea. But today she was up earlier than normal-and she woke Daeron up and he started fussing and then they were all up.

Today they would be going home.

“Tell me about the house again,” Rhaenyra said as they broke their fast on slow roasted clams and fruit that was just slightly overripe and burst with flavor in their mouths. “Is it big?”

“It’s not as big as the manse in Lys, but…you’ll like it. There’s a view of the canals outside every window.” Dany ran the brush through Rhaea’s unruly mop of blonde hair; it always seemed to tangle when she slept.

“And I’ll get my own bedroom?” They’d all had to share one bedroom for a time when they were in Norvos and Rhaenyra had never recovered.

“Of course.”

Rhaea nodded, satisfied. “How many windows does it have?”

“One in every room. On nice nights we can leave them open and you’ll be able to hear the moonsingers singing from your bedroom.”

She considered that for a moment. “Is there still a lemon tree?”

“No, but we can plant another one.” Rhaenyra nodded, apparently satisfied, and skipped away to the window. She was always drawn to the sea, always wanted to be as close to the water as she could; she loved the feel of her feet buried in the shoreline and the sound of the waves when they broke onto shore. Maybe it was because she had been born on Dragonstone Island and the water had permeated her consciousness since birth-or maybe she’d fallen in love the first time Jon had taken her swimming. Whatever the reason, she always seemed happier the closer they were to the water.

And they’d been a lot of places over the years. They were still in communication with their friends in Westeros, but not nearly as much as they had been; after a few rough years, a ruler had been fairly elected and the realm was stable.

If they met people who knew of them, who had heard of the Battle for the Dawn, they were often asked why they had given it all up. King’s Landing could have been theirs for the taking. No one would ever contest their right to the Iron Throne. But after all the death and destruction…she realized she hadn’t wanted it. The power had never been something she craved and she hadn’t found the belonging she sought until she met Jon, until they became a family. And after coming so close to losing it all she realized that she didn’t want to give it up so easily. She wanted her children to have a better childhood than she had. She wanted their last name to be just that-a name. Not a legacy. Not a weight on their shoulders that they would feel every day of their life.

She didn’t want to be their messiah. She wanted to be selfish for once in her life; she wanted a family.

The wanderlust had hit almost as soon as they left Westeros’s shores behind them and for the last three years they’d been mostly nomadic; they moved as the feeling struck them, around the Free Cities, into the Summer Sea, to Dorne or the Iron Islands to visit friends, to the ruins of Valyria. Rhaenyra, and later Daeron, had grown up around ships. They were more comfortable on sharply sloping decks than they were on dry land.

There was so much to see. There was no way they could see it all by staying at home.

But there had been another reason for their wandering-a house with a red door that she’d dreamt about more and more until she was determined to find it. It had taken years to track it down-to trace it back from servants and masters and repairs and crises. At some points she’d almost given up, when every trail inevitably went cold. And Jon had always been the one to encourage her-there were always places they hadn’t checked. Until then they’d explored-camping in the forest of Qohor under the stars, trying foods from faraway lands in crowded bazaars, and every so often meeting a long lost cousin with Valyrian blood.

It was a good life, but the children were getting older and Dany wanted them to have a home. She wanted them to have a place they thought of as their own, with a roof over their heads and beds they could sleep in at night.

She felt Jon’s hand ruffle her hair and his lips on her cheek, soft as a butterfly’s wings. “Are you ready?”

She nodded, feeling his stubble scratch against her skin. Her eyes dipped shut, taking a moment to revel in the nearness of him. He always gave off an aura of peace and calm, something she’d held onto more than once when the nightmares took her. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, planting a kiss on the top of her forehead as they watched the children play. Daeron had toddled over to his sister and she’d picked him up easily, setting him on her lap as she pointed out all of the colorful ships on the river and the flags that told her where they’d come from. “It’ll be good for them not to move as soon as the wind changes.”

“Do you think you can ever settle into domestic life? No wars to fight, no enemies to defeat? Just…a little house, children, maybe a cat or two?” She could barely imagine it, even now. At least when she was moving she was doing something-there was something that seemed almost wrong about not having that security of productivity.

“It’ll be an adjustment-but for the children…”

“We’ll do anything.”

And the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she wanted it too.

It took another two hours to pack everything up and hire a cart to take their belongings ahead to the new house. They took the slow route, meandering around the canals and open air marketplaces, stopping here and there to by fresh fish or watch the courtesans pass in their open air boats. Dany told herself it was because Daeron and Rhaenyra wanted to explore the city, though she sometimes wondered if it was her postponing it subconsciously. To make a decision like this…to choose to set down roots somewhere…it felt as if she was turning her back on her home, her lineage, the throne that she could choose to take now if she ever went back to King’s Landing.

But she knew this was what she wanted. She wanted her and Jon to grow old together, to be able to watch their children grow and have families of their own, to live a quiet life filled with love. She was certain of it, more certain than she’d been of anything else in quite some time. So why was she so reluctant?

They stopped to watch a group of street performers. Entertainers juggled fruits and small soft colored balls deftly, adding more and more until the children, including Rhaea and Daeron, ran towards them. Dany felt the sharp fear she always did when they disappeared into the crowd, that maybe she’d lose them among  all the people. But she could still see them-Rhaea’s blonde braids as she clapped her hands excitedly, Daeron’s eyes shining with a boyish wonder.


“Hmm.” He shifted imperceptibly next to her, brushing her shoulder. To anyone else it would have been a fidget but she knew better, knew him well enough by now to know when he was trying to say that he loved her.

“Do you think we’re letting them all down?”

He didn’t ask who she meant. He didn’t need to. They had the same nightmares, after all. They had the same demons in their pasts. And so he didn’t give her a flippant answer. “Maybe it’s cowardly, to give up so much power…but there’s something brave in it as well, don’t you think? In trusting Tyrion to show the Seven Kingdoms that they can rule themselves?”

“I don’t care about that. I just didn’t want the throne. It would have destroyed us, the way it destroys everyone in one way or another. It would have destroyed them.” Rhaenyra and Daeron still laughed and played in the streets, acting every bit like the young children they were. There would be no outfits dripping with jewels, no crowns to break their spines. “Maybe it’s selfish but…”

“It’s not selfish to desire peace.”

“There will never be peace.”

“Maybe not for us. But our children…they’ll be smarter. They’ll succeed where we failed. Change isn’t the work of only one or two people. We laid the foundation, and now we have to trust them to build upon it.”

“Do you ever think about what would happen if we would have stayed?”

“Every day. But I’m glad that we didn’t.”

Rhaenyra and Daeron had drifted away from the street performers and were investigating a cart full of flowers. As she watched, the cart’s owner pulled out a crown of braided violets and placed it on her daughter’s head. Rhaea’s face lit up when she smiled. “So am I.”

The house was in one of the nicer quarters of the city; it faced the harbor and smelled of the sea. It wasn’t the biggest house on the street but Dany had always liked it the best, even as a young girl. It had square windows that opened out to let in the breeze and the walls were a pale cream color that reminded her of baking dough. And of course the door was a deep red; she was always able to pick it out from the other houses, even at night. There was a turret in the back where she’d had her playroom; it made the house look like a castle.

Even though she remembered what it looked like, even though she could never have forgotten something like that, to see it again after all this time was still a shock. Some things had changed-the house had a new coat of paint, the tower looked significantly more dilapidated, and there was only a stump in the front yard where there had once been a sprawling lemon tree-but it was instantly recognizable. For a moment she felt like she’d never left, like she was still a little girl wanting to be loved.

“It looks like a castle!” Rhaenyra screeched as she jumped off the back of the cart while it was still in motion (something she’d been told again and again not to do) and ran to the front door. The two guards who accompanied them from house to house instantly stepped aside to let her in and she flung the door open, disappearing inside.

“I’ll get her.” Once the carriage stopped Dany climbed down, her boots making a puff of dirt rise into the air. The memories were coming back in a thick flood-she hadn’t been any older than Rhaea when she’d seen the house for the first time and she could remember how she’d run inside, happy to finally have a bed to sleep in after months on the run. She remembered the paintings on the walls, the heavy rugs on the floors, the arched ceiling in the entryway that had seemed impossibly far above her.

Now she opened the door with a bit more trepidation. “Rhaenyra?” There was no answer.

She stepped inside. The walls had faded-they were more white than puce, and there was a new rug in the entryway. A new chandelier hung from the ceiling too, with holders for six candles. At the moment none of them were lit, though she suspected that come the evening they would be.

“Where are the others?” Rhaenyra came running back from farther in the house, her boots echoing on the hard floor. At first Dany didn’t know what she was talking about-and then she realized just how often they’d been staying with others in the past few years-in inns or at boarding houses, or in small gated communities where everyone knew each other better than they knew themselves.

“There’s no one else coming, darling. Just us.”

“This whole house is just for us?”

“Yes-unless you want any more brothers and sisters. Then they’d live here too. But no strangers.”

“But…it’s so big.”

“When I was younger there were more people that lived here-Ser Willam Darry, Viserys, the waitstaff-the cooks, the maids, the guards, the cleaners…but we had to let most of them go.”


They kicked us out. “We just…we had to move on. I didn’t think I’d ever come here again.” She picked Rhaenyra up before she could ask and they stood in the foyer looking at the chandelier, reveling in the silence. That was something she missed, she realized. All the places they stayed at had always been busy and bustling. The silence here was so total, so complete-but it felt cozy and lived in, as if there had been other families after her that had made the home their own.

“Exploring already, are we?” Jon stepped inside, Daeron balanced on his hip and a few bags in his other hand-which all tumbled free as soon as he stepped into the entryway. Daeron was sucking on his thumb as he took the place in, eyes as big as saucers.

Rhaenyra giggled. “It’s so pretty! Are the bedrooms upstairs?”

They spent the rest of the afternoon exploring-there was the kitchen, with its long wooden table where they would take their meals-Dany recognized a scratch in the side where she’d been poking it with a fork when she was bored as a child. The furniture in many of the rooms was unfamiliar, the carpets that had once seemed plush and lovely now were worn through and threadbare in places, the pantry leaked, and a few of the rooms had been painted completely different colors or covered in a pattern of flowers and vines that looked garish and ugly.

But in all the ways that mattered, it was as if she’d never left.

Rhaenyra claimed her own bedroom-a circular room just under the playroom, with light blue walls. She flopped down on the small bed in one corner and closed her eyes, sighing deeply-the sigh of someone who knew that they were somewhere they belonged.

Daeron was getting fussy, tired out from a day of travel, so they left him in the makeshift nursery-the room that had once been Dany’s. The cradle had been assembled before they arrived and he fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.

She couldn’t help picking out where the lemon tree had once been, how it had dappled the light that fell through the sheer curtains. There was something melancholy in the way the light pooled harshly on the floor now; it felt as if she’d lost something irreparable.

She felt Jon’s hand squeeze her shoulder and they went to the adjoining bedroom next door. It was the master bedroom and unlike the other rooms it seemed to be in a state of disrepair; the coverlet was dusty and the wardrobe leaned on one foot precariously but it felt good to lie still and let the dust and heat of the journey drift away out the open window.

Jon kissed her gently and she felt herself relax, felt the feeling of uncertainty that had taken over her from the moment they entered the house fall away. Yes, it wasn’t the same house she’d grown up in-and it shouldn’t have been because she wasn’t the same girl. The door that she’d thought was closed forever had been opened again and she felt a world of possibilities opening up to her-a world of simple moments and happiness and everything she thought she’d have to give up forever because they were the last Targaryens. A world where she could lie with him and just…be. Where there were no monsters to fight or nightmares to chase-just children to raise in a house with the windows open and the scent of fresh flowers drifting through the house.

“We’re home,” she whispered. “We’re really home.”

He didn’t answer but she could feel him smile. Gods, she loved him.

I will write something for every day this week no matter what it takes. 

How to Fuck With Your Students 101

STEP 1: Buy 3 small, differently-colored bouncy balls

STEP 2: On the first day, bounce only one ball during class so they get used to the color.

STEP 3: On day 2, begin by bouncing the same ball as before. Halfway through class, discretely switch it with a different ball that’s similarly colored (like switching from bright red to orange). Now students are wondering if their eyes are playing tricks on them.

STEP 4: Spend Day 3 bouncing the same color ball as you did on Day 1. Now students are going nuts trying to figure out what’s going on.

STEP 5: The coup-de-grace. On Day 4, carry around all three balls in one hand, and cycle through as you bounce them. (An easy method is to drop a ball from the bottom, use your thumb to push the other two down, then catch the one you bounced on the top. Then repeat.) Now, from the kids’ perspective, the ball is changing colors each time you bounce it. Red, blue, yellow, red, blue, yellow. Let mass chaos ensue as they accuse you of witchcraft and then slowly realize that there were multiple balls.

ithilienne  asked:

pottermore gave me a kingfisher patronus and initially i was taken aback but i also initially thought of you ("no no this is ursula's give me my grizzly bear please and i'll be on my way") but the more i thought about it, the more okay i became with my ~visible manifestation of happiness and protection~ being a small, brightly-colored murderous ball of feathers.

That is fabulous!

Kaleidoscope Dreams

So a cute little Shin-ah piece, spoilers for Chapter 105

Yona looked over at Shin-ah, whose attention was captivated by a small booth that had an assortment of brightly colored toys laid out on the table. “Shin-ah?” she stepped up next to him. “They’re pretty, aren’t they?” she asked, a soft smile on her face. “I wish we could buy some for the children in the villages; they could always use something to play with. Toys help in a way that food can’t.”

“I don’t see why not,” Yun said from behind her, looking intrigued. “I know that kids do need something to play with. You should get a few, after all that money Hak got off of your archery, there is enough for it.” He flicked his gaze up to Shin-ah. “Did you find a good one, Shin-ah?”

Shin-ah reached out and took a small, multi-colored ball in his hands, his expression more unreadable than usual. “This one,” he whispered. Something tugged on the edge of his memory, to faint to put into words, but the sight of the small toy brought a feeling of warmth inside. He let Yun pay for it and he held it carefully, lest it break In his hands.

He noticed Zeno watching him and the warm feeling that was the Ouryuu spread and Shin-ah smiled a little to himself as they walked through the town, planning their next route, Yun gathering supplies that were of a more consumable nature. He didn’t know why a simple child’s toy made him so happy. He couldn’t wait to put it in the hands of a child that had nothing at all.


“Seiryuu really liked that toy, huh?” Zeno sat across from him, a bright smile on his face. “That kid liked it a lot, too. He’s going to be really happy, having something he can share with his friends.” It had been such a poor town that they had found; but even children who had struggled to find food and warm clothing brightened at the sight of something that was meant for enjoyment.

Shin-ah nodded, fingers brushing over Ao’s fur gently. “He was … lonely,” he said after a moment. “After Ao was gone, I was lonely, too,” he whispered.

Zeno tilted his head, considering the words. “Seiryuu cared very much for the other Seiryuu, right?” he asked.

Shin-ah nodded quickly. He couldn’t remember a great deal about Ao; just his name and a hint of an image in his mind. Ao had left him to be Seiryuu instead of him, Ao had cried to leave Shin-ah alone. That was all he really remembered. That and the sound of bells echoing in his mind, leading Ao to him so that he didn’t get lost.

“I had… a toy before,” Shin-ah got out the words with difficulty. “I don’t remember how… but it was special. It was … my only one. I had to leave it behind when we left the village.” Because of him, the dragon and the soldiers that wanted to hurt them.

Zeno smiled gently at him and Shin-ah was reminded how Ouryuu wasn’t the younger dragon as they had originally all thought. He was older, much older than any of them could imagine and had presumably looked after other dragons over the years. “Did the previous Seiryuu give you it?” He seemed to be hesitant, waiting for the answer.

Shin-ah shook his head quickly in denial. “No…I don’t remember, but it wasn’t Ao.” He struggled to recall the person who gifted him with the toy, but it was so long ago that he couldn’t recall anymore than the toy being pressed into his hands and a hint of a smile.

“Well, at least you had something good as a kid,” Zeno grinned, playfully bumping into him. “And now you have a lot more people that you can play with, right?”

Shin-ah blinked and stared up at Zeno and then nodded, tackling him to the ground and the warm, happy feeling spread at the sound of Zeno’s real, delighted laughter. This was like before, the warmth and happiness at having something special.