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#Ordinary People Extraordinary Things
modernwitnesses · 17 days
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Nancy B.
Today, Nancy speaks to us about how God called her into her ministry, her podcast Ordinary People Extraordinary Things, and why you need to tell your story. Tell us a bit about how you grew up and your childhood: I grew up on an acreage in rural Iowa with my mom, dad, sister, and brother. My dad owned his own business (and still does) doing carpentry work. By watching him build spec houses and…
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dhoopkikiran · 1 year
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We are just normal people doing ✨(extra)ORDINARY THINGS✨
Wash every bowl, every dish as if you are bathing a baby- breathing in, feeling joy; breathing out, smiling. Every minute can be a holy, sacred minute.
Where do you seek the spiritual? You seek the spiritual in every ORDINARY THING that you do every day. Sweeping the floor, watering the vegetables, and washing the dishes become holy and sacred if mindfulness is there. With mindfulness and concentration, everything becomes spiritual.
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greatwyrmgold · 9 months
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How did the Shibuya Incident and the onset of the Culling Game affect the civilians of Tokyo?
Most of the textual evidence that I've been able to find comes from the first half of chapter 137.
Two pages are spent showing the lights going out over a decent chunk of the Kanto area, which is appropriately creepy but not informative.
Three pages of disembodied speech bubbles over damaged skyscrapers, which is a great way to get across the vibes of distant jujutsu (and possibly mundane) authorities arguing about how to handle a crisis and actually provides some information.
Four pages of a lonely kid scrounging for supplies in an abandoned store, which transitions into a brief action sequence. The latter is useless for me; the former shows us the Culling Game status quo, which is helpful, even if it doesn't explain how we got there.
Also, Chapter 160 shows that residents of Sendai City were moved out of the Culling Game barrier when the game properly started. But that seems incompatible with what we see in Tokyo, and there obviously wasn't a Shibuya Incident in Sendai.
That's not a lot of data. I'm going to focus my analysis on the speech bubbles, because that's where almost all the relevant information is. And where better to start than some of the first speech bubbles on the first page? Those explicitly state:
At least ten million cursed spirits were released into Tokyo during/after the Shibuya Incident
The status of high-ranking government officials, specifically "the acting prime minister's office," is unknown to whoever's talking.
"The 23 wards are almost completely destroyed."
For people who don't watch as much anime as me, I should clarify: Those wards aren't magic barriers or anything. The urban core of Tokyo (corresponding to its 1936 borders) is divided into 23 tokubetsu-ku, usually translated as "city" or "ward". Without getting into the administrative weeds, "the 23 wards" informally refers to Tokyo the city, as opposed to Tokyo the prefecture (which is full of ordinary towns, villages, and cities).
Look, it means Tokyo was almost completely destroyed.
It's not clear what this means. "Destroyed" is a vague adjective! The buildings are mostly intact, as we see in both chapter 137 and the rest of the Culling Game arc. And there are a lot of survivors, as I'm about to discuss. I guess the infrastructure got wrecked?
Anyways, survivors. The speech bubbles discuss evacuation plans for "roughly five million residents at minimum". For comparison, in 2020, Tokyo's 23 wards had a population of 9.73 million; it would have been slightly lower in November 2018, when the Culling Game arc takes place.
So on one hand, they're expecting millions of deaths; on the other hand, they're expecting most people to get out of the city alive. Despite the 23 wards being "almost completely destroyed."
It's not clear how those evacuation orders would work. But apparently, the speech bubble people just accept that they will get most people out of Tokyo if they try. Despite the normal problems with evacuation orders, how those problems escalate if you try to evacuate over 5 million people at once, and the fact that cursed spirits outnumber humans in Tokyo.
The second and third pages focus more on stuff like the Japan Business Federation getting pissed at them, whether the public should be informed about cursed spirits, the possibility of foreign intervention, and how all of this affects the value of the yen. That does a pretty good job of characterizing the speech bubbles, but it also obfuscates what the civilians are dealing with.
This might be a good time to mention that Gege Akatami seems to have some pretty optimistic assumptions about where these five million refugees will be living. The speech bubbles discuss extreme measures of where they could house the five million refugees—anywhere with basic infrastructure, like campsites, ghost towns, and love hotels. I'm kinda curious how many ghost towns have functional infrastructure, but I'd rather clown a little on Akatami for thinking that recreational campsites and f*king hotels are last-ditch evacuation locations and not the best-case scenario.
(I'm starting to get the sense that Gege Akatami wants us to worry about the consequences of his villain's plots and not their setups. Well, I'm not outlining any fanfics set during the plot's consequences!)
So the sense I'm getting is that a bunch of stuff got busted, and a bunch of people were killed by cursed spirits and curse users, but most of them got out there alive and were housed in love hotels and ghost towns. Which is...not much.
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waitineedaname · 1 year
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If you made a just some guy tournament I have a couple ideas of guys who'd be good candidates but the problem is they're way too niche and would get eliminated immediately. I'm talking guys like Kevin J. James from Guaranteed* Video or fuckin uh. Ando Masahashi from Heroes
I mean, don't let nicheness hold you back! you never know what kind of results you'll get. though I will say, I haven't figured out exactly how I'd be running it yet, but I'm probably gonna not allow real people, so Kevin J. James wouldn't work. but fictional characters are fair game!
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blorbosexterminator · 2 years
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Thinking of berlermo this fine morning
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halflingkima · 2 months
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the point of doctor who to me – at least rtd era – is that the normal people, everyday people, are important. they're the ones who save the day every episode.
and mft smashes that with a hammer practically every episode he gets his hands on.
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wocado · 7 years
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Choose to be extraordinary ~ @elonmusk
I think it is possible for ordinary people to
ordinary people, extraordinary things, Elon Musk quotes, inspirational quotes #PICTUREQUOTES, #QUOTES
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I always love watching sitcoms, it’s nice being reminded that I don’t have to be anything extraordinary to be something worth having
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Would Rincewind from Discworld survive Castle Dracula?
I've got multiple asks apiece for Sam Vimes and Moist von Lipwig, but HECK YES I wanna talk about Rincewind!
If Rincewind knows one thing, it's when to run away from a bad situation. The Dead travel fast but Rincewind is faster. Rincewind does not want to be here. Nobody nopes like him. At the very first red flag Rincewind is RinceOUT.
...unfortunately Fate hates him. Inevitably, he ends up sheltering for the night... at Castle Dracula.
(Re: the crucifix, "for your mother's sake" is unlikely to move him, since she ran away before he was born. But Rincewind doesn't shave - he needs his beard, he has too little as it is!)
Rincewind is a coward by birth, upbringing and vocation. He is pretty good at convincing people not to kill him and he usually looks too pathetic to be worth the bother. He is not at all good at convincing people not to force him into heroic roles that he absolutely does not want. But staying alive is pretty much his speciality.
Rincewind is afraid of perfectly ordinary women - he is terrified of the Girlies, and is just as good at running from them screaming as Jonathan is. Better, arguably. I don't think anyone has ever said "I too can love" about him though, and I don't think anyone is going to. Dracula may not rescue him from the Girlies ... but he gets lucky and escapes them somehow.
Fate may hate him, but the Lady think he's her specialist little guy. Rincewind's luck is extraordinary.
And that's the clincher for me. Rincewind is Fate's chewtoy and DEATH's hobby, but he is the champion of an actual literal god, and She is going to pull him through kicking and screaming.
For anyone asking why he doesn't try magic, magic is not going to help him because he's real bad at it. Dracula is an objectively better wizard than he is, and I honestly don't know how this informs their relationship.
...oh man if Dracula takes his hat he's gonna be so mad. So mad.
His one biggest hurdle is going to be the wall due to his crippling fear of grounds. But I think the Lady will have his back on this one, so when he accidentally trips and falls out the window he'll have no choice but to climb. He'll hate ever second of it. But once he makes it down, the Jon-a-Thon is precisely what he's best at.
I sadly don't think Dracula's library is extensive enough to allow him to access L-space.
I do think Rincewind would try to fight Dracula with a half-brick in a sock over the baby steal. Rincewind loves kids and gets occasional bouts of heroism in spite if himself. But the door is locked and he can't get out of his room.
I am fudging this a bit, but I do not believe the Lady will let him die if it can be avoided through sheer dumb luck. And so therefore Rincewind the Wizzard can survive Castle Dracula, but would vastly prefer not to have to
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starlit-pathways · 1 year
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People thought that being one of a kind made you special. No, it just made you lonely. What was special was belonging with someone else.
—The Vanishing Half, by Britt Bennett
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billfarrah · 1 month
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One of my favourite things about Young Royals and its characters is how much it romanticizes being utterly ordinary.
Stories often focus on characters who are exceptionally good at something or who are more ambitious than the average person. Even in the teen shows I’ve watched, these young characters always seemed to have their dream career and dream university figured out at a young age and I could never relate to that because I had none of those things figured out as a teen. It always felt like pushing this narrative that teenagers need to have their entire lives figured out before their brains are even fully developed.
None of the characters in YR seem particularly ambitious and in fact, the main character’s journey is a story of anti-ambition. When he is introduced to Simon, it is precisely Simon’s ordinariness that draws Wille to him. Sure, Simon is a very talented singer, but it’s never indicated within the series that he has dreams of being a pop star. It’s just something he likes to do. Simon is motivated by very ordinary things - he wants to do well in school so he can have better opportunities for himself, he wants to take care of his family, he wants to hang out with his friends and play video games. He’s a dedicated student but not necessarily valedictorian. It’s not his ambition that Wille is drawn to but his integrity and kindness and warmth.
Wille had a chance to be extraordinary - to be Sweden’s first gay king - but being extraordinary has never been Wille’s ambition. Wille’s ultimate goal and dream within the series’ narrative is to be free to make his own decisions and live his life as he pleases. He just wants to kiss his boyfriend and get drunk at parties and live his life one day at a time instead of spending every moment of his life preparing for an inevitable future he doesn’t want. In the end Wille is extraordinary not for his ambition, but for his bravery to reject the expectations thrust upon him and throw himself into the unknown and see where it takes him. Wille had a whole future in front of him as crown prince and future king - he’d never have to work a day in his life and would have people advising his every move - and he rejects that. This lack of ambition is not portrayed as a moral failure, but a necessary step in Wille’s journey to personal self-discovery and fulfillment of his own desires. His desire right now is simple - be free with Simon, but that doesn’t mean his dreams end here forever. He deserves peace and tranquility after all the trauma he’s been through without having to worry about where or who he’s gonna be in a few years. He deserves time to just exist.
None of the characters know where they’re going when they drive away at the end. We as the audience don’t know what careers if any these characters will find themselves in, but that’s also not important to this story. The series is saying you don’t have to have everything figured out when you’re 17 and you don’t have to do something just because your parents think they know what’s best for you and even if you don’t know exactly what you want to do, that doesn’t mean you don’t have the agency to know what you don’t want.
It’s not a moral failing to want the simple things in life or to be ordinary, and I love that Young Royals celebrates that. It shows the beauty in simple moments that feel revolutionary to a person - touching the person you love, forgiving someone and making amends after a hardship, whooping with your friends in a car as you drive into the summer and celebrates them. Ultimately these are the moments that make life worth living.
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salvatcrechild · 2 years
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⦗ tvdu & other verses ⦘
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daisynik7 · 27 days
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I could even learn how to love like you
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There’s a certain type of peace you find in the mundanity of the typical morning commute. The soothing whirring of the railway, the chill of metal against your fingers wrapped around the handholds, even the odd comfort of being surrounded by strangers who are equally as half asleep as you are, willing to shuffle the slightest bit to make room for new passengers. Sure, it’s a nuisance for the most part, but it’s your tiny pocket of harmony before the usually stressful workday. A routine you’ve grown accustomed to, something you can rely on to stay the same in this ever-changing society. 
Change is never a bad thing, though. And sometimes, it takes a stranger on the train to show you that.
He immediately captures your attention the first time you see him. Tan business suit, straight posture, hair neatly parted, stoic expression etched on his face. The typical salary man heading to his office job in the city. While his stature is most-impressive, it’s his tie that piques your interest, a spotted pattern akin to leopard print. A splash of pizzazz on an otherwise ordinary outfit. 
He maneuvers his way to you, wrapping his fist around the same pole you’re holding, his grip a safe distance above yours. He glances at you through his spectacles, giving you a short nod to acknowledge you. You return this with a small smile, and when you notice he doesn’t have any headphones in, you say, “I like your tie.” You normally wouldn’t speak to anyone here, most people too immersed in their preferred choice of media, like music or the news. Something tells you that straying from your usual habits might be good for you today.
The second of silence where he’s processing what you said scares you; maybe you’ve become a bother for him in this already troublesome commute. Then, he clears his throat, his gaze flickering at you for the briefest moment before it focuses on the floor. “Thank you.”
The conversation ends there. In fact, that’s your entire interaction throughout the remainder of the journey. Your station arrives before his and you leave without another word. It’s neither awkward nor extraordinary. Still, the moment doesn’t stop replaying in your memory the rest of the day. You wonder if you’ll get a chance to see him on the way home, knowing the chances are slim. Schedules vary, there are many different sections of the train. The stars would have to align just right for you to be reunited with this stranger. Despite the improbability of it all, you allow yourself to be hopeful. The little taste of excitement this morning has you craving more. 
~~~
Two days pass until Nanami meets you again. Maybe he does it subconsciously, maybe it’s intentional, but he finds himself gravitating towards you. When he places his hand above yours on the pole, in similar fashion to the last time, he gives his usual nod, unsure if you recognize him.
You beam at him. “Good morning!”
He doesn’t say anything else; he’d only be pestering you with trivial conversation. Though he can’t help watching from his peripheral as you scroll through pictures of delicious food on your phone. He notices you screenshot the ones that include recipes in the description, causing him to grin to himself at how he does the same. The urge to comment is in the back of his throat, the tip of his tongue. Getting it out proves to be difficult, and he knows why. Nanami made a vow to himself ever since he returned to being a Jujutsu Sorcerer: don’t fall in love. He’s completely aware of how dangerous his job is, how his life is at risk every single mission he’s sent on. It’s what he signed up for, the life he’s currently committed to. There’s no room for attachment, for love. It's easier for him to avoid it altogether, even if it means swallowing down a simple hello on the train. It’s better this way. And quite frankly, he isn’t sure if he’s even capable of loving the way others do. His heart has become so callous throughout the years that there’s no chance at it ever softening, he’s sure of it. Perhaps the flutter in his chest at the smile you flash him is a coincidence, nothing more. 
This theory is soon debunked. 
Nanami is especially tired after today’s mission. Heading home, he manages to secure a row of empty seats and plops himself down, resting his head back, sighing. He closes his eyes, listening to the usual hustle and bustle of rush hour, resisting every temptation to fall asleep. Missing his stop would put a damper on his already foul mood. 
Eventually, the automated voice announces your stop. For whatever reason, he made it a point to remember it when you hopped off this morning, just two away from his. When he feels someone sit beside him, he peeks with one eye open, curious. 
“Hi.” You smile softly at him, eyes crinkling with genuine kindness. “It’s you.”
While Nanami is guarded and closed off from people outside his intimate circle, he’s never rude. He has no other choice but to respond to you, ignoring the obvious thump in his chest at your endearing greeting. “Hello.” He tries his best to convince himself that this unfamiliar flutter surrounding him is some sort of medical condition that needs proper diagnosis and not affection towards a beautiful stranger on the train. Stiffening in his seat, he pretends not to be intrigued by the food magazine you start flipping through, secretly studying the way you fold the corners of all the recipes you want to save for later. 
Halfway into the ride, he actually does fall asleep, only rousing awake when he feels a gentle tap on his shoulder. Blinking the bleariness from his eyes, he catches you staring at him guiltily. “Sorry,” you apologize. “I think your stop is coming next and I didn’t want you to miss it.”
He sits up straight, readjusting his tie, clearing his throat before he replies, “Thank you.” Sure enough, the automated voice from the speaker announces that they’ll be approaching his stop next. Slightly disoriented from his nap, he stands up, grasping the nearest handhold tight. His mind is racing, body itching to say something more, say anything more. Before he can, the train comes to a halt. The doors open and without another glance, he’s gone. 
Nanami spends the entire fifteen minutes of his walk home attempting to quell the stir of emotions inside him, from guilt to giddiness, all over the simple fact that you’ve memorized his stop. That you’re paying attention to him just as he is with you. 
~~~
This time, he’s the first to greet you, offering a polite nod before he grabs onto the same pole that you’re occupying. “Good morning.”
You’ve been boarding this particular section ever since you started seeing him, hoping he’d do the same. “Hello, stranger,” you respond with a grin, unable to contain your happiness.
He holds his other hand out to you. “Nanami. Nanami Kento.”
You state your name in similar fashion, shaking his hand. His skin is rough against yours, though his grip is gentle. You let go of him, dropping your arm to your side, fingers tingling. “I guess we’re not strangers anymore.”
“I guess not,” he says with a small smile. And it’s enough to send you into a tizzy. 
Conversation is easy with him. He mentions the magazine you were reading the other day, expressing his mutual interest in food. From there, the two of you talk about your favorite restaurants and eateries around the area, giving your best recommendations. Because of all the ambient noise, you lean in close to one another to hear each other properly. The gap between your hands on the pole is shorter by the time your stop approaches. You’re prepared to bid him a reluctant farewell, so it surprises you when he follows you off. “Is this your stop too?” you ask him, though you already know it isn’t. 
He shakes his head, fixing his tie idly. “My office is fifteen minutes from here. I want to get a quick walk in before I start work.”
“Are you sure this isn’t an excuse to spend more time with me?” you tease him, smirking.
He gazes into your eyes. “Maybe it’s that too.”
This is the start of a new and exciting routine for you, one that involves Nanami. You’ll spend the morning together, talking to each other in the middle of the crowded train. Then, he’ll walk you to your office building, where he leaves you with a cordial bow. You’re reunited during rush hour, sitting next to each other sharing either the newspaper he brings along with him or the new issue of a magazine you’re subscribed to. You’ll even rip out recipes for him to keep, which he tucks safely in his pocket. When he’s too tired from the workday, he’ll close his eyes, his head falling just shy of your shoulder. It all seems silly and insignificant, but to you, it’s special. 
Your relationship never goes beyond this. The two of you don’t talk about work, you never ask questions about the new injuries on his hands or the minor scrapes on his face. The idea of being anything other than acquaintances who commute together terrifies you, and you have a strong sense that it terrifies him as well. While it would be nice to be in love, you’re not confident if you can give that to him. 
It's only after Nanami stops coming when you realize that maybe you can love him. 
On Thursday, the morning after Halloween, the commute takes longer than usual due to a mysterious incident in Shibuya that the media hasn’t disclosed fully. You listen carefully to the gossip surrounding the train. According to the elder folks, it has something to do about “the hooligans” partying too hard on Halloween. The younger generation of passengers chalk it up to some conspiracy about magical entities attacking civilians to lure other magical entities. You’re not sure what to believe, and whatever is the truth doesn’t matter once you realize Nanami hasn’t boarded at his usual stop. The delays don’t help your anxiety as you spend the remainder of the ride wondering where he could be, why he hasn’t shown up, if he’s okay. 
You follow the same routine as best as you can, frequenting the same section as you usually do, holding onto the same pole, which is lonely now without his presence. On the way home, you place your bag in the seat beside you, saving it for him if there’s ever the slim chance he does show up. You continue to tear recipes from the magazines you would normally read with him, placing them inside a small envelope marked with his name, ready to present to him if you ever do see him again. To show him that you never stop thinking about him even in his absence. 
Nothing is ever revealed about what really happened in Shibuya. The general consensus is that whatever danger emerged on that Halloween night is no longer a threat and that the citizens of Tokyo are once again safe. And based on the timing of Nanami’s sudden disappearance, you believe that he’s part of the reason for that. It’s the only solace you find in this otherwise heartbreaking situation. Still, you hold out hope. For what? You’re not sure until two months later when Nanami returns to your life. 
~~~
It takes one month for Nanami to be discharged from the hospital. He was admitted two days following Halloween, after Ieiri performed all she could with her abilities to aid him with his injuries. But he’s alive, they all are. The Jujutsu sorcerers succeeded at defeating Kenjaku and all his minions, thwarting whatever horrible fate they had in store for Tokyo, potentially the entire world. They won. 
However, their triumph came with a cost. The Shibuya Incident left him permanently scarred on the left side and one eye lost forever. Rehabilitation has been grueling the past few weeks, struggling to come to terms with this battered body. He’s received unyielding support from his colleagues who he shares this trauma with. Despite this, there’s something missing, someone missing in his life. He thinks about you much more than he ought to, wondering if you’ve noticed his absence, if it’s affected you at all. Ever the pessimist, Nanami has convinced himself that you have forgotten about him, even after all the tiny, special moments you’ve shared together. It’s better this way, he knows that. After all, he doesn’t have the slightest clue what love is or how to love somebody. 
Still, he’d like to see you again, just to know that you’re doing alright. 
Another month passes before he musters the courage to be out in public again. Because of the winter season, he can hide as much of himself without rousing any suspicion. A large coat, mittens on his hands, a scarf around his neck, a mask to cover the burn scars. He dons his usual spectacles, hoping to conceal the eyepatch draped across his hollow socket. Ever since the incident, he’s felt like a monster, unable to reveal himself to strangers oblivious to the true events of that night. 
He finally boards the train, stepping foot in the usual section as he would going home, searching for a familiar face. There you are, as beautiful as ever, sitting in the same seat, your bag occupying the one beside you. You look up, your eyes meeting his, holding onto his gaze a split second longer than expected before you focus back on the magazine laid out on your lap.
It takes everything in him to deny the swell in his chest, the tiniest sliver of hope fluttering in his belly at the thought of you recognizing him. Before he loses his composure, he takes his place on the empty row across from you, enough distance to observe you inconspicuously. That’s all he intends to do, nothing more. 
As much as his world has been shaken, he’s comforted by you flipping through your magazine as usual, your life continuing normally as it should. However, he can’t help feeling a deep sadness, knowing he’s not a part of it anymore. 
Once again, you prove his assumptions wrong.
His eye widens, intrigued by you grinning at a particular page, carefully tearing it from the binding, something you used to do this for him not too long ago. He watches with bated breath as you retrieve from your bag a marked envelope already teeming with what he assumes are other recipes from previous issues. You add the new one with a delighted expression, making sure to close the flap for a temporary seal. And clear as day on the front of the envelope, even with his obscured vision, is his name written on the front. 
He sits up straight at this, his full attention on this seemingly insignificant discovery. This captures your attention, the inkling you had earlier validated. It’s him. The stature, the posture, those distinct steampunk glasses. You didn’t want to be wrong, so you didn’t say anything, trying to stifle your quickening heartbeat. But you’ve been waiting two months for this reunion, yearned for it more than anything. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you stand up, traversing towards him until you’re an arms-length away, gripping a pole tightly to steady yourself. “Nanami?”
Panic sinks in as he decides to reveal himself to you, anticipating the shock and terror in your face when you see what he looks like now. He removes the mask slowly, avoiding eye contact. “Yes, it’s me.”
Your reaction surprises him. With that same warm smile he’s missed so much, you sit down beside him, unfazed by the scars. “I’m so happy to see you.”
Love is standing close on a crowded train to keep each other company. Love is getting off at the wrong stop to spend more time together. Love is magazine clippings in an envelope with his name on it. Love is seeing all the broken pieces of him and still finding him completely beautiful. 
Nanami is certain now that he could learn how to love like you. 
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Author's Note: This is the final installment of the past lives vignettes series. It’s a bit cheesy, but I really wanted to explore the aspect of “missed connections” and I thought strangers on the train would be perfect to do that. Title inspired by the song “Love Like You” by Rebecca Sugar. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are never expected, always appreciated. Thanks for reading. Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.
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christianborle · 11 months
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this shot makes me insane. yes there’s lots of feelings about whether he should have gone home or not, but seeing this man finally look happy and content after 3 seasons of his ups and downs gives me an emotional gut punch in the best way
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and the real thing about this is that he also looks like Just Some Guy. here in kansas, he isn’t some Big Premier League Football Coach that all of english football fans know about. here in kansas, he looks like every run-of-the-mill yeehaw dad you’d see everywhere around town. this is the guy you’d expect to show up at in your parent-teacher conferences. but that’s the point. if someone had gone up to meet ted for the first time in that moment, he would have looked like Just Some Guy, but that person wouldn’t have known his whole lore. that he’s actually a hero to someone somewhere, that he made a gigantic impact in so many people’s lives for the better. you can look at someone ordinary and have no idea about the extraordinary things they have done for others. we all look ordinary on the outside, but there is a whole world inside of us. it’s like we just read a whole book (trent’s book) about how it only takes One Guy to leave a positive ripple effect for everyone he’s met and you wouldn’t even know it!!! and he is starting a new journey of all of this with his son’s team.
does this make ANY sense i am sleep deprived
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vivmaek · 2 months
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POETRY FOR YOUR MOON SIGN
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✰ my masterlist poems written by someone who has the same moon sign as you <3
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☾PISCES☽
Edgar Allen Poe, A Dream Within a Dream
���Take this kiss upon the brow! / And, in parting from you now, / Thus much let me avow – / You are not wrong, who deem / That my days have been a dream; / Yet if hope has flown away / In a night, or in a day, / In a vision, or in none, / Is it therefore the less gone? / All that we see or seem / Is but a dream within a dream.”
June Jordan, You Came with Shells
“You came with shells. And left them: / shells. / They lay beautiful on the table. / Now they lie on my desk / peculiar / extraordinary under 60 watts.”
Toni Morrison, It Comes Unadorned
“it comes / Unadorned / Like a phrase / Strong enough to cast a spell; / It comes / Unbidden, / Like the turn of sun through hills / Or stars in wheels of song. / The jeweled feet of women dance the earth. / Arousing it to spring. / Shoulders broad as a road bend to share the weight of years. / Profiles breach the distance and lean / Toward an ordinary kiss. / Bliss. / it comes naked into the world like a charm.”
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☾AQUARIUS☽
W.B Yeats, A Coat
“I made my song a coat / Covered with embroideries / Out of old mythologies / From heel to throat; / But the fools caught it, / Wore it in the world’s eyes / As though they’d wrought it. / Song, let them take it / For there’s more enterprise / In walking naked.”
W.B Yeats, The Lover Tells of the Roses in His Heart
“All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old, / The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart, / The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould, / Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart. / The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told; I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart, / With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made, like a casket of gold / For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.”
Louisa May Alcott, The Lay of a Golden Goose
“Oh! Be not rash,” her father said, / A mild Socratic bird; / Her mother begged her not to stray / With many a warning word. / But little goosey was perverse / And eagerly did cry, / “I’ve got a lovely pair of wings, / Of course I Ought to fly.”
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☾CAPRICORN☽
John Milton, Sonnet 19
“When I consider how my light is spent, / Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, / And that one talent which is death to hide / Lodged with me useless, through my soul more bent / To serve therewith my Maker,”
Jala al-Din Rumi, The Guest House
“This being human is a guest house. / Every morning a new arrival. / A joy, a depression, a meanness, / some momentary awareness comes / As an unexpected visitor. / Welcome and entertain them all! / Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, / who violently sweep your house / empty of its furniture, / still treat each guest honorably. / He may be clearing you out / for some new delight. / The dark thought, the shame, the malice, / meet them at the door laughing, / and invite them in. / Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent / as a guide from beyond.”
Gwendolyn Brooks, a song in the front yard
“I’ve stayed in the front yard all my life. / I want a peek at the back / Where it’s rough and untended and hungry weed / grows. / A girl gets sick of a rose.”
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☾SAGITTARIUS☽
Lewis Carroll, A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky
“In a Wonderland they lie, / Dreaming as the days go by, / Dreaming as the summers die: / Ever drifting down the stream – / Lingering in the golden gleam – / Life, what it is but a dream?”
Dante Alighieri, From “Inferno”
“It’s the pain / of the people down there that empties my / face. / It’s pity / that you’ve mistaken for fear. / And it’s the long way / that pushes us now. / Let’s go.”
Victor Hugo, Tomorrow, At Dawn
“Tomorrow, at dawn, at the hour when the countryside whitens, / I will set out. You see, I know that you wait for me. / I will go by the forest, I will go by the mountain. / I can no longer remain far from you. / I will walk with my eyes fixed on my thoughts, / Seeing nothing of outdoors, hearing no noise / Alone, unknown, my back curved, my hands crossed, / Sorrowed, and the day for me will be as night.”
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☾SCORPIO☽
Sarojini Naid, Autumn Song
“Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow, / The sunset hangs on a cloud; / A golden storm of glittering sheaves, / Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves, / The wild wind blows in a cloud. / Hark to a voice that is calling / To my heart in the voice of the wind: / My heart is weary and sad and alone, / For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone, / And why should I stay behind?”
Shel Silverstein, Dreadful
“Someone ate the baby. / It’s absolutely clear / Someone ate the baby / ‘Cause the baby isn’t here. / We’ll give away her toys and clothes. / We’ll never have to wipe her nose. / Dad says, “That’s the way it goes.” / Someone ate the baby.”
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Aftermath
“When the summer fields are mown, / When the birds are fledged and flown, / And the dry leaves strew the path; / With the falling of the snow, / With the cawing of the crow, / Once again the fields we mow / And gather in the aftermath.”
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☾LIBRA☽
Maya Angelou, Caged Bird
“A free bird leaps / on the back of the wind / and floats downstream / till the current ends / and dips his wing / in the orange sun rays / and dares to claim the sky.”
Emily Dickinson, Good Morning – Midnight
“Good Morning – Midnight – / I’m coming Home – / Day – got tired of Me – / How could I – of Him? / Sunshine was a sweet place – / I liked to stay – / But Morn – didn’t want me – now – / So – Goodnight – Day!”
Elizabeth Barrett Browning, My Heart and I
“You see we’re tired, my heart and I. / We dealt with books, we trusted men, / And in our own blood drenched the pen, / As is such colours could not fly. / We walked too straight for fortune’s end, / We loved too true to keep a friend ; / At last we’re tired, my heart and I.”
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☾VIRGO☽
Robert Hayden, Those Winter Sundays
“Sundays too my father got up early / and put his clothes on in the blueback cold, / then with cracked hands that ached / from labor in the weekday weather made / banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. / I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking / When the rooms were warm, he’d call, / and slowly I would rise and dress, / fearing the chronic angers of that house, / Speaking indifferently to him , / who had driven out the cold / and polished my good shoes well. / What did I know, what did I know / of love's austere and lonely offices?”
Jack Kerouac, How to Meditate
“Thinking’s just like not thinking- / So I don't have to think / any / more”
William Faulkner, Study
“Muted dreams for them / for me / Bitter science. Exams are near / And my thoughts uncontrollably / Wander, and I cannot hear / The voice telling me that work I must, / For everything will be the same when I’m dead / A thousand years. I wish I were a bust / All head.”
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☾LEO☽
Walt Whitman, I sing the Body Electric
“I sing the body electric, / The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them,”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad of Reading Gaol
“Yet each man kills the thing he loves, / By each let this be heard, / Some do it with a bitter look, / Some with a flattering word, / The coward does it with a kiss, / The brave men with a sword!”
Ralph Waldo Emerson, Friendship
“A ruddy drop of manly blood / The surging sea outweighs, / The world uncertain comes and goes; / The lover rooted stays. / I fancied he was fled, – / And, after many a year, / Glowed unexhausted kindliness, / Like daily sunrise there. / My careful heart was free again, / O friend, my bosom said, / Through thee alone the sky is arched, / Through thee the rose is red; / All things through thee take nobler form, / And look beyond the earth, / The mill-round of our fate appears / A sun-path in thy worth. / Me too thy nobleness had taught / To master my despair; / The fountains of my hidden life / Are through thy friendship fair.”
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☾CANCER☽
Shakespear, Sonnet 147
“My love is as a fever, longing still / For that which longer nurseth the disease, / Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,”
Robert Frost, Acquainted with the Night
“I have been one acquainted with the night. / I have walked out in rain – and back in rain. / I have outwalked the furthest city light. / I have looked down the saddest city lane. / I have passed by the watchman on his beat / And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. / I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet / When far away an interrupted cry / Came over houses from another street, / But not to call me back or say good-bye; / And further still at an unearthly height, / One luminary clock against the sky / Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. / I have been one acquainted with the night.”
William Blake, Auguries of innocence
“To see a World in a Grain of Sand / And a Heaven in a wild flower / Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand / And eternity in an hour”
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☾GEMINI☽
Rudyard Kipling, Blue Roses
“Half the world I wandered through, / Seeking where such flowers grew. / Half the world unto my quest / Answered me with laugh and jest. / Home I came at wintertide, / But my silly love had died / Seeking with her latest breath / Roses from the arms of Death.”
John Keats, To Sleep
“Save me from curious Conscience, that still lords / Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole; / Turn the key deftly into the oiled wards, / And seal the hushed Casket of my soul.”
Lord Tennyson, The Eagle
“He clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, / Ring’d with the azure world, he stands. / The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; / He watches from his mountain walls, / And like thunderbolt he falls.”
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☾TAURUS☽
John Donne, Air and Angels
“Twice or thrice had I lov’d thee, / Before I knew thy face or name; / So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame / Angels affects us oft, and worshipp’d be;”
Audre Lorde, Recreation
“my body / writes into your flesh / the poem / you make of me. / Touching you I catch midnight / as moon fires set in my throat / I love you flesh into blossom / I made you / and take you made / into me.”
Margaret Walker, Lineage
“My grandmothers were strong. / They followed plows and bent to toil. / They moved through fields sowing seed. / They touched earth and grain grew. / They were full of sturdiness and singing. / My grandmothers were strong. / My grandmothers are full of memories / Smelling of soap and onions and wet clay / With veins rolling roughly over quick hands / They have many clean words to say. / My grandmothers were strong. / Why am I not as they?”
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☾ARIES☽
E.E Cummings, Love is more thicker than forget
“love is more thicker than forget / more thinner than recall / more seldom than a wave is wet / more frequent than to fail”
Mark Twain, Genius
“But above all things, / to deftly throw the incoherent ravings of insanity into verse / and then rush off and get booming drunk, / is the surest of all the different signs / of genius.”
Paul Laurence Dunbar, Ships that Pass in the Night
“Out in the sky the great dark clouds are massing; / I look far out into the pregnant night, / Where I can hear a solemn booming gun / And I catch the gleaming of a random light, / That tells me that the ship I seek is passing, passing.”
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342 notes · View notes
happy74827 · 7 months
Text
No Ordinary Life
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[Sam Riordan x Female!Reader]
Synopsis: The group had almost ran out of options on what to do with Sam, but Andre had decided there was still one more option to explore. And that option, was you. (GIF credits: @heronamedhawks)
WC: 1,179
Category: Slight Fluff, Slight Angst
We don’t know much about Sam as of right now, but I do know I would literally die for this boy. He and Emma really deserve the world, and they fr better have their happy ending (which seems impossible given the universe they live in, but one can hope). This definitely deserves a part 2, depending how well it goes, but for now enjoy the purity that is Sam.
Edit(2023): Hey I finally made the part 2, check it out here
『••✎••』
As Sam walked down the bustling halls of Godolkin, he couldn't help but feel like an outsider. All around him, kids with extraordinary powers, kids like him, were chatting, laughing, and walking to their classes. They were able to use their gifts freely and openly, and they were respected by others for it, but Sam didn't have that luxury. Honestly, he couldn’t remember a time that he did.
All he remembered was the woods, his brother, and the constant pain of being hunted.
His hand unconsciously traveled to top of his head, pulling the hoodie that Emma had lent over to him farther over his face as he tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn't easy when the hallway was completely crowded by nosy students, but he did his best. That’s all he could really do.
Emma and Marie (as he found her name to be) were by his side, protecting him for the skewing eyes of others. For the most part it worked, except it drawn more attention to her due to that odd system that Emma had acknowledged him about. A rating, whatever that was.
It was cool to know that his brother had been ranked number one, though.
If Luke was still… No, don’t think about it, Sam.
He shook his head, ridding himself of that train of thought. There was no point in dwelling on the past, and thinking about his brother wouldn’t change anything. He was gone, and Sam was left alone.
His thoughts were interrupted by Jordan, who he was still slightly confused about. He? She? They? They seemed to have been good friends with his brother and they were friendly enough, so Sam didn’t really question the matter too much.
Plus, he kinda enjoyed the subtle sarcasm that Jordan would once in a while use. It made him feel like a kid back in school. So for that, Sam was thankful.
“Dude, this has got to be the stupidest thing we’ve ever done,” Jordan had said, turning to the guy walking besides them… Andre. Sam didn’t know what to make of him, or anyone really. He had always been so closed off from other people, that now it was almost a bit overwhelming.
But at least he had Emma, so he didn't have to worry about the social aspect too much.
Andre gave Jordan a sideways look, a small smirk on his face. He seemed pretty chill too.
“Listen, I don’t like this anymore than you do, Jordan,” Andre stated, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But with everything happening, and with Cate… this is our best option.”
“Yes, let’s bring the kid with a bounty over his head into the place where they’re all going to be looking for him. Great idea, Andre. Seriously, how did I not think of it first. Soooo smart of you, dude. Good job. I'm so glad we're friends, really I am.”
Jordan rolled their eyes, and Andre just looked away in annoyance. Then, to Sam’s dismay, an awkward silence fell over the group. Once again, Sam was struck by just how different his life was now. It was like he was suddenly thrown into another world, and he had no idea how to function in it. He was so far out of his comfort zone that he couldn’t even see the zone.
Sam glanced over to Emma, and saw her smiling encouragingly at him. He tried his best to return the gesture, but he felt like his face muscles were going to fall off if he forced them any longer.
After what seemed like hours, but really only a couple minutes, Andre halted in front of a random dorm room door, and turned to face the group. He sighed, his face set into a look of grim determination. Then, he knocked.
Three times, Sam counted. Three knocks.
The door opened almost immediately after, and the man who answered had to be the most handsome human being Sam had ever seen. He had short black hair, a sharp jaw, and a dazzling smile. It was actually kind of intimidating.
“Whadda’ want?” the man asked, his voice a rich baritone. Sam didn't know why, but it felt like the man was judging him. His eyes scanned over the group, lingering on Sam for just a second, before returning back to Andre.
Andre cleared his throat, a bit nervously, but he didn’t get a chance to speak as Jordan scoffed, shoving past the man and into the room. Emma followed, giving the man an apologetic look as she did. And thus, everyone followed, leaving the man alone and bewildered in the doorway.
Once everyone was settled inside, the man shut the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. He glared at Andre, his eyes burning holes through his head, but Sam didn’t pay any attention towards him anymore. All his eyes were on the strange girl in front of him, you.
You were sitting on the floor, legs crossed and a bored expression on your face. Your eyes were half lidded, and you seemed to be lost in your own little world. Andre had mentioned you, a little. Said that you were the person he had called earlier, that you would help them figure out what to do with Sam, and that you knew and could a lot of stuff. But he had never told them how gorgeous you were.
Your hair was down, and looked so soft that Sam just wanted to touch it, run his fingers through it, and feel the texture. You had a cute little button nose, and a round, chubby face that was just too adorable. And your eyes were so expressive, a mixture of colors that swirled and shone and sparkled in the light.
Andre had called your attention and you snapped out of it, blinking a few times before glancing up at him. It was then that you noticed the others, and you stared at them all, wide eyed and open mouthed, but that was quickly replaced with a smile.
“Hi, Andre! Wow, you must be Jordan… Marie… and Emma? Right? Oh, and you must be the kid Andre talked about, oh my gosh. It's so nice to finally meet you all. Sorry I didn’t say anything when you came in, I was just finishing up this thing for Kota. Oh, Kota! You're still here… hi. Wait, why are you all here? You weren’t supposed to be here until 2:00, and it's only-”
You looked down at the watch on your wrist, your eyes widening even more when you realized the time. You had been talking so fast that no one had been able to get a word in edgewise, but you had managed to finish what you had to say, and it was all so rushed that it was hard to keep up.
The only thing Sam could focus on was how despite all of that rambling and mumbling, you were still keeping that bright smile that never seemed to falter. A truly happy supe? He never thought it would exist. Even Emma, as sweet and pretty as she was, tended to falsify the smiles she had. Sam only saw her real one about three times. He cherished them, of course. Every single one.
You stood up, brushing yourself off and fixing your clothes, and walked over to them. Your hand was outstretched, and your smile was radiant. Sam could practically feel the happiness radiating off of you.
You looked so innocent, so sweet and pure. He could hardly believe that you were a supe, but the fact that they were all standing here said otherwise. You had power, and you knew how to use it.
Jordan and Marie seemed to have recovered from their daze, and the two shook your hand after Andre. Marie had even introduced herself, and it ended with you in giggles, telling her that you already had known her name.
Emma was next, and she had taken your hand immediately and shook it.
Then it was just him that was left.
He stood frozen, staring down at your outstretched hand. He could feel all the eyes in the room on him, and he just knew that his hood was starting to slip.
His instincts were yelling at him, screaming at him to run. To get out of there and stay far, far away from you. From everyone.
But he couldn’t.
So, instead of fleeing, he slowly, cautiously took your hand in his. It was small, warm, and fit perfectly.
You smiled again but this time it was strictly for him, because of him, and it made his heart beat just a bit faster.
He didn’t even realize it until your smile has widened, but he had pulled down his hood, letting you see his face. He didn't understand why he did, and a part of him wanted to pull the fabric right back over his face, but it was too late now.
The damage had been done.
Sam didn’t have a chance to scrape off the dried blood off his cheeks, another result of an accidental outburst, and he could feel your eyes rake over his face, taking in every single detail.
But it wasn’t judgmental, or critical.
No, there was something else in those swirling eyes of yours, and it was then that he noticed the little flecks of gold hidden in the sea of color.
Sam was a bit embarrassed, to say the least, and he tried to pull his hand away but your grip only tightened, and he didn't have the strength to resist. He felt your hand go up his arm, unraveling the hoodie that clung to him like a second skin.
The others didn’t seem to do anything as you pulled the material above his elbow.
Your eyes roamed over the scar that stretched across his forearm, and he knew what was coming before the words even left your mouth.
Sam couldn’t bring himself to look at you as you asked the dreaded question, and his eyes were glued to the floor.
It was Emma who answered, her voice barely a whisper.
Sam despised the pity in your tone. The last thing he wanted was to be pitied. He didn't need or want anyone's pity. He was fine. Everything was fine.
The silence shattered as you took a sharp breath, but Sam couldn't bring himself to look at you. Not when he knew the look of pity in your eyes.
You released his arm, the hoodie dropping to the ground, but Sam didn't even register it. He stood there, frozen, as you slowly reached out your hand towards his face.
"Before I do anything, I want to warn you so it doesn't scare you. Is that okay with you? I just... I want to make sure you're alright. But if you don't want me to touch you, I won't. I'll respect your boundaries. Just tell me, okay?"
Sam blinked, his head tilting upwards, his eyes wide with surprise. There was no pity in your eyes. No negativity or degradation. Only a gentle concern and kindness that he had only experienced in these past few days.
Your touch was tender, and he felt a warmth spread across his face. He couldn't bring himself to deny you. So he nodded, and a small smile appeared on your face. It was still a smile, but a different kind. One he had never seen from you before. And once again, that smile was meant just for him.
Suddenly, the lights in the room dimmed, capturing Sam's attention. He hadn't noticed before, but the entire room was filled with interconnected lights, forming a grid-like pattern. They began to glow, pulsating and shifting with each passing moment. The light danced across the walls, creating mesmerizing shapes.
Sam was captivated by the whole process. And then, the lights suddenly stopped, freezing in place. Sam expected them to return to their normal brightness, but they grew brighter and brighter. It was then that he noticed your hands. They were no longer touching him, but rather, they hovered above him, palms facing his face. A peculiar expression settled on your face.
Sam didn't know what it meant, but he didn't have time to wonder because, in an instant, your hands transformed into light. It wasn't like beams shooting out of your palms, but rather, golden particles that flowed around your body and traveled along the lights, intensifying their brightness. Patterns began to form and move.
Sam watched in awe as the shapes transformed into pictures and scenes. The colors melted and shifted together. Light filled the room, washing away the world around him, leaving only the vibrant colors, the images, and your face.
Your face, so close to his. The smile still adorned your lips, and your eyes shone like stars, the brightest things in the room. Sam could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Reluctantly, he admitted that the light was beautiful, just like you.
It was the most extraordinary sight he had ever witnessed. It was as if the sun had exploded, its light spreading across the room. The colors danced along the walls, forming vivid images. Sam saw a field, a house, a family. He saw his old friends. He saw him. His brother, Luke.
Sam's face crumpled, and a sob escaped his throat. Tears blurred his vision, but they were absorbed by the light, vanishing as soon as they fell. You remained a silent observer, watching over him as the colors gradually faded, and the world returned.
The room was as bright as before, but everything was the same. Sam could still see the concern and worry etched on your face. You reached up to wipe away his tears, but this time he flinched back, and the contact never happened. Your hands fell to your sides.
Tears welled up in your eyes, and your lips trembled, trying to hold back your emotions. But a tear escaped, rolling down your cheek. Andre cleared his throat, breaking the spell. Both you and Sam turned to face the others.
They were all watching, expressions of shock and confusion on their faces, except for Jordan, who wore a mask of indifference.
Andre and Emma stared at you, mouths agape, while Sam saw the tears in your eyes, the fear evident on your face.
Of what, he couldn’t tell. As of right now, there were so many things you could be scared of. With The Woods, being the thing that contains most of it all, It was hard to pinpoint one specific reason.
Then, just like before, Andre's voice cracked as he decided to interrupt Sam’s thoughts.
"What the hell was that?"
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