since feeling is first

you and I are not snobs. We can never be born enough. We are human beings;for whom birth is a supremely welcome mystery,the mystery of growing:the mystery which happens only and whenever we are faithful to ourselves. You and I wear the dangerous looseness of doom and find it becoming.

[maboroshi-no]

Hamefura LN13 SS Story Summary

I am currently reading Hamefura LN13 and will post summaries after each chapter.

I HAVE FINISHED!

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1: The Foreign Study

Chapter 2: The Prince Of Ethenell (Part 1)

Chapter 2: The Prince Of Ethenell (Part 2)

Chapter 3: The Sightseeing Outing With Cezar

Chapter 4: Maria's Crisis (Part 1)

Chapter 4: Maria's Crisis (Part 2)

Chapter 5: A Prince's Jealousy

SS Story

It is Raphael's POV of the dark magic lesson in Chapter 1.

Katarina has become good at sucking darkness but despite this, she doesn't think she has any talent for dark magic.

Raphael thinks her ability to suck darkness fast is amazing but Katarina doesn't seem to think much of it. Raphael tells her sucking darkness might be her strong suit.

Raphael explains to Katarina that even if two people have the same attributes and the same magic power, they won't use their magic the same way. People have things they are good at and things they are bad at.

Katarina cheers up after Raphael's explanation. As her teacher, Raphael adds that if she puts steady efforts in her bad suits she should be able to do them at least a little bit. Even so, Katarina doesn't get discouraged. Strength has completely returned in her eyes. Raphael is glad. 

Katarina gives Raphael an energetic reply. Looking at her, Raphael can't help chuckling. Katarina is puzzled. Raphael tells her he thought she would be like this. Katarina still doesn't get it. Raphael explains that sucking darkness suits her. Katarina is still puzzled. Raphael tells Katarina she is like the sun that makes darkness disappear. Katarina has frozen up.

Raphael wonders if he has said something strange. He has always thought that she was like the sun shining on him.

Katarina recovers and Raphael suggests they resume the lesson. Raphael can't help smiling upon looking at Katarina giving him an energetic reply. 

[ladyeowyn]

Valentine’s Day Gift Exchange | Catalina & Alessandro | to Isabel @housebaylor from your Book Society Secret Admirer Matilda leaned forward, looked at Alessandro, then looked at me. “Your children would be very attractive.” Alessandro winked at Matilda. “Thank you. You are most kind.” Runa covered her face with her hands and made some whimpering noises. Okay, no. I had to nip this in the bud. “Matilda, picking a husband is more complicated than just selecting an attractive mate. He has to be smart and kind, and he has to be a good person.” Alessandro glanced at me. The sharp fire in his eyes sparked and vanished before anyone else noticed.

[sprouttheambassador]

running errands like kurt vonnegut

[sprouttheambassador]

⬆️ like so

[lelif]

on loving your siblings

I don't love anyone, Belle and Sebastian//The Reynolds Pamphlet, Hamilton by Lin-Manuel Miranda//The Other Boleyn Girl(2008)//Fleabag, 2x06//@earth-to-mothership //Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, Jewish Literacy//Antigone, Jean Anouilh//Maurice Sendak//Little Miss Sunshine (2006)//The Elektra Complex, @filmnoirsbian //NA

[dozyyygirl]

no one quite psychoanalyzes like daughters do when looking at their mothers

[feral-ballad]

Jennifer S. Cheng, So We Must Meet Apart; “August 24, 2018”

[metamorphesque]

Chen Chen, How I Became Sagacious 

[metamorphesque]

Vincent van Gogh

[greeksblog]

Susan Sontag, As Consciousness Is Harnesses To Flesh

[rosacarolina]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

[apoemaday]

Resignation

by Nikki Giovanni

I love you because the earth turns round the sun because the North wind blows north sometimes because the Pope is Catholic and most Rabbis Jewish because winters flow into springs and the air clears after a storm because only my love for you despite the charms of gravity keeps me from falling off this Earth into another dimension I love you because it is the natural order of things

I love you like the habit I picked up in college of sleeping through lectures or saying I’m sorry when I get stopped for speeding because I drink a glass of water in the morning and chain-smoke cigarettes all through the day because I take my coffee Black and my milk with chocolate because you keep my feet warm though my life a mess I love you because I don’t want it any other way.

I am helpless in my love for you It makes me so happy to hear you call my name I am amazed you can resist locking me in an echo chamber where your voice reverberates through the four walls sending me into spasmatic ecstasy I love you because it’s been so good for so long that if I didn’t love you I’d have to be born again and that is not a theological statement I am pitiful in my love for you

The Dells tell me Love is so simple the thought though of you sends indescribably delicious multitudinous thrills throughout and through-in my body I love you because no two snowflakes are alike and it is possible if you stand tippy-toe to walk between the raindrops I love you because I am afraid of the dark and can’t sleep in the light because I rub my eyes when I wake up in the morning and find you there because you with all your magic powers were determined that I should love you because there was nothing for you but that I would love you

I love you because you made me want to love you more than I love my privacy my freedom   my commitments and responsibilities I love you ‘cause I changed my life to love you because you saw me one Friday afternoon and decided that I would love you I love you I love you I love you

[stlowens]

Anne Carson, from “Stanzas, Sexes, Seductions.”

[apoemaday]

Unlove Poem

by Franny Choi

If I call myself unloveable, I am, practically; if I say it enough times: unloveable. Then, like practical magic,

I’m hollow as old garlic; I’m distance-skinned. I’m a long, mean package, a terror-dyke, a nag, a squinting,

slut-spun hag—it’s easy, really. It’s the simplest thing, I do it in my sleep. I have invasive dreams,

after all, they infect my lover’s skull, they crank our jaws into four slow hammers. After all, I’m made of distance

plus the beautiful things people have tried to put inside me, they fall out the bottom. No one can kill me

with kindness. No one can reach me through the sound of such ancestral ugly, sound of my grandmothers gagging

a half-century ago (did they?). My grandmother beating her stomach with her fists, drinking medicine, then poison (did she?).

I’m distance-skinned. No one can put a story inside me but me. If not even my memories love me enough to stay,

then fine, cut off the hands that keep me married to any history. See? Like magic, then,

I call myself a rotted-out bulb, and soon enough I’m hauling out the wet stuff, cracking my compost heart

under a shovel’s faceless verdict. Sometimes a highway opens between my hearts, and I run suicides between until I’m lactic.

Sometimes I wonder how long I’d have to run to reach the last generation where one of us felt loved,

and I crumple into carcass. I come from a short line of women who were handed husbands as salvation from rape.

I’m a short lie of a woman whom men have wanted to tear apart with their good strong hands. I mean, same.

If I love anyone enough to know they deserve better than me, and stay anyway…? If I love myself enough to beat

fistfuls of poison into me, into me who hurts me, oh well, I’m just imitating the rockets’ red glare. I’m just covering the old song. Unloveable is open-source, anyone can make up new verses to sing it. Here’s the part where I list the times

my white ex hurt my feelings, or my white teacher, my white therapist, the white boy who put his dick inside me,

the boy I liked too much, the woman who let me fall in love with her too fast, of course there’s the boy

who died by accident and left me only able to write beautiful poems about his leaving, pretty only-love things I threw and threw into

the endless distances inside me, highways of quiet. O, I’ve been hard to love in America. I’ve been slow

to speak in America. I’ve been, undoubtedly, an American and done practically nothing to stop it. I’ve been

some version of my grandmothers slinking around the floor of the GI bar, shivering in the bathroom of the GI bar.

I’ve been some version of my grandmother making child after child for a loveless man. I’ve been her, and I’ve been

the version of her that lives, that lives in an opportune land, that chooses who she loves, that sits by a window writing,

drinking water with tulsi, breaking chocolate with her clean hands, that goes to school after school and collects heart and heart

and heart sweetly brimming in her well-oiled forearms and still has the gall to be unloveable. O, my badly-loved grandmothers,

I kin you to me, facelessly. I wrap all our deaths around my shoulders like a foxpelt coat: grandmother across

oceans and ages, grandmother across the border, grandmother carried off by soldiers, grandmother carried into endless highway

by disease or dog or dawn’s unrelenting purge. I wrap until I’m made of grandmother, until the ritual musk of their dreams

is sprouting from my skull: sandalwood, ambergris, copper of blood, coin copper, clay of approaching dusk. I am loved

by pheromone if nothing else. By accident at best. O beasts of fortune, I am loved sweetest by the horrors of blood,

by my own, and by ours, O blessed rootrot, by ours.

[soracities]

“the willows are singing again with unspeakable tenderness, trailing their leaves in the radiant water.”

— Louise Glück, from Lament in “Poems 1962-2012″ (via adrasteiax)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Paul Celan, from his poem titled “Tenebrae,” featured in Selected Poems & Prose [x]

[metamorphesque]

― Margaret Atwood, You are Happy

[geryone]

Come the Slumberless To the Land of Nod, Traci Brimhall

[boykeats]

[image text:

And Abraham said, This is how much I love you, and measured Isaac from ankle to scalp. Love will cut you and then ask

you to carry on singing

/end text]