Thursday, May 29, 2014

Seduced by Moonlight--chapter 15

I am stunned, boys and girls. Chapter fifteen opens with one person displaying actual selfless concern for another human being in crisis.

“Rhys, go with him,” Doyle said. “See that he comes to no harm.” Rhys went without a word. He was still nude, as was Sage...
It's like stars and rainbows and--

 I had a moment to hope that there wasn’t anyone outside the wall with a nightvision camera.
You wanna know what a sociopath really looks like? It's this. Your boyfriend/lover might commit suicide because you just crippled him, and you're worried about the goddamn press outside. It's a social tone-deafness that hurts you and everyone around you. The inability to feel empathy combines with the belief that the rules just don't matter and produces one seriously fucked up individual. Merry Gentry is a terrible person.

 Doyle has to spell out that Sage might be suicidal because he's lost his wings. Yes, it's an accident, but for fuck's sake Merry. Running off in tears should indicate that one is severely, SEVERELY upset. And speaking of terrible people...

  • “It’s my night,” Nicca said. He hadn’t taken part in the conversation until now, and when I looked into his brown eyes what I saw tightened things low in my body.
Yep. Suicidal crisises will not halt the progression of wall to wall sex scenes. And so while one man sobs because his identity has taken a severe blow, the rest of the men argue about whose turn it is in bed.

Nicca balled his hands into fists. “No, we aren’t finished.” And his voice was like something that should call you from deep within the ground. He might have had wings, but his energy was all earth.

And this has to do with the price of tea in China how? And way to vaguely describe shit. I could choose to interprete this as one of those stupid little bells the victorians used to string up to coffins so nobody would get buried alive (spoiler: It never worked)

Doyle moved back from the bed, using his body to move me backward, as if he still didn’t trust Nicca. “No one who has not become a god can sleep with Merry until we understand what the chalice and the Goddess want.”
 They agree that only Frost and Rhys will get to sleep with Merry until they've figured out what, exactly, sleeping with Merry actually does to them.

Note: Merry has no input on this whatsoever. I begin to suspect one reason LKH's main characters are always polyamourous straight chicks is so that she never has to write dialogue with verbalizing women. Seriously, this is page after page after page of men talking with Merry interjecting an occasional "Here, please"

Then they go to check on Sage. By which I mean they all talk about sage and decide that Maeve Reed is "comforting" Sage, probably using her vagina. So Sage is fine.

All of the Fae in this universe need medication, case workers and sensativity training.

With Sage occupied, they move into an "As you know, Bob" about the fairy relics. Because apparently none of the new Fae for the past few centuries have bothered to learn a goddamn thing about their culture.

Gee, no fucking wonder their Goddess skipped town for a few generations. Not bothering to learn about their native culture, relics, religion and resident gods would piss anybody off, and gods aren't exactly known for being warm and fuzzy when it comes to being forgotten.

And it goes exactly nowhere. We identify that the Seelie court lost most of it, the Unseelie court just got a downgrade, and this might be because the Seelie pissed the gods off harder than the Unseelie did, but this isn't addressed. Frost tries to push and

Frost opened his mouth to speak, but Doyle cut him off with a gesture. “No, Frost, we will not reopen this wound. Not tonight. Is it not enough that you will share her body until we are sure the rest of us are safe?”


Merry daydreams about rolling in Nicca's new wings until she's covered in "multicolored dust". As someone who collected a lot of butterflies as a kid (...before I grew up and grew a conscience) I can tell you that this? This is fucking dangerous for butterfly wings. It ruins them. Merry is daydreaming about utterly ruining her lover's brand new wings because they could make her pretty.

Nicca then tries to get confrontational with Doyle, so they all decide that he's been posessed by a random wandering Celtic god. Because WHY NOT.

Merry solves it by prayer.


I prayed a prayer I’d spoken a thousand times before: “Mother help him.” The moment the words left me, I felt the world tighten, as if the universe had caught its breath.
She is divinely inspired to make Doyle and Frost restrain Nicca so she can make him drink from the magic cup. She gets him to do that, they roll around in Nicca's wings for a while and then...uh, travel through sunlight and butterflies?

...okay, who spiked the magical cup of the Goddess with acid.

Then they drop into a random medival forest. All four of them. Merry, Nicca, Doyle and Frost. Random ass forest. Then somebody talks and they're back in the bedroom. Nicca is himself again. The random posession of the gods took a grand total of four, maybe five pages.

And then Merry describes how pretty Nicca's wing-colors look on her skin, because he shed absolutely everywhere. And her eyes and hair are really, really shiny. And Frost does this:

“You don’t want me, Merry,” Frost said. “I wasn’t born sidhe. I’m not fit consort for a goddess.”

 Oh, and hello, wasted potential:

“I was never a child, Merry. I was never born. I was a thought, or a thing, a concept if you will . Yes, a concept given life by the gods.
This is Frost speaking. And that would be so cool. Why are we not reading a book about that? (I think it's called American Gods, and it's by a much, much, MUCH better writer, but I digress)

“You can only get godhead once, and you’ve had your turn,” I said. “Now it’s just extra magic that you have to learn to deal with. It’s simply a matter of discipline, practice, and control.”
No. No no no no no no no. Merry's role this entire time has been "What the fuck does that mean?" The boys get to "As you know, Bob," and Merry gets to sit there, be clueless, and ask questions to clarify shit. She does not suddenly get to understand the Magic Vag of Holding when nobody else can hack it. How the fuck does she know you can only get a godhead once? Is there a punchcard inside her labia or something?

And now it's time for Merry and Frost to make out. This chapter needs to end. Why hasn't it ended?

Screaming, clawing, screaming, more screaming, and right about when Merry and Frost are about to insert tabs into slots, Doyle starts screaming and having seizures. His skin splits open and FINALLY the chapter ends.

We've had fifteen chapters of sex. Solid. We've had no plot. We've had random shit thrown at us, but we've had no plot whatsoever.

This is LKH's "good" series. God help me.


  1. "what I saw tightened things low in my body."

    This right here is proof she's a bad writer. Two different characters in two different series describe their no no places the exact same way.