Narcissus In Chains Chapter Twenty Two

Actually, I legitimately had the thought "huh, asshole bleach. Might be fun" the other day, which is not something I have ever thought about reading another chapter of this book.

There are so many vehicles parked around the lupanar grounds that some of the rats can't even find spots. Way to keep this super secret no cops allowed shapeshifter meeting on the down low.

Claudia shows up. Claudia is a six foot six brick shithouse and a wererat. I love Claudia, even though the only thing she's wearing up top is a sports bra for no apparent reason.

There is endless info dump bullshit about why Anita needs body guards, which is in essence because there are too many "submissives" in her pard and not enough "dominants." Nuance, you have none. Animals do not work like this. People, even people in to BDSM, rarely work like this. Why is everything in this universe so black and white? Is it because those are the only shades LKH understands?

Anita doesn't want bodyguards because she can't rub two brain cells together. The only one she has is apparently devoted to breathing in and out, leaving her at  loose ends for everything goddamn else.

The second bodyguard is a guy with an "oriental" dragon tattoo. Turns out his name is Igor.

Anita is a fucking shitbird for asking Igor if that's his real name. I have a weird name, and I hate nothing more than this line of questioning. It's no one's business if it's my legal name or not. If I introduce myself a certain way that's obviously what I prefer, and that's the only thing that should matter. Igor tells her he's not about to tell her what his legal name is. Good job, Igor.

Anita attempts to be funny and/or badass by making a stupid movie reference that LKH's audience is unlikely to recognize. Then she hits me with this:

..."extra muscle is like extra ammunition. If you need it, it's good to have it, if you don't need it, then it can always go back in the box." 

Analogies don't exist to compare one similar thing to another in the most obvious way possible. Hey, having a gun is like having a knife, because they can both be used to defend yourself. Wow, how insightful!

"Truth was, I felt more protective of my leopards than protected by them. Sad, but true."

Why is that sad? This whole book has been an exercise in wankery over how you're their one true queen.

Anita wanks over how she doesn't trust anyone and it must be because she's a woman, because women are never satisfied.

(A friend asked for more Adventure Time gifs, so M., these Adventure Time pics are for you)

Anita can't help but take Micah's hand and it's like taffy and warmth and TWU LUV and PULSING. And Anita STILL, despite this goddamn fated love rag being stuffed farther and farther down my throat for the past ninety pages, has the fucking audacity to ask what's going on.

The wereleopards are all around Anita and Micah, and their rape-as-love mind beams are so strong that everyone is awed. I guess they're forming that group empathy that all shapeshifters apparently have the potential to do despite being totally different animals who should by all rights have completely different beliefs and abilities.

"The power was so thick it was like trying to breathe liquid..."

Anita puts her metaphysical hands all over Merle. Not my Merle! Merle tries to fight her and her power but of course he can't, because if Anita can't rape someone physically by god she will do so magically.

Of course the text tries to assure me that it's not like she's forcing him, really, it's just that her beast is so powerful.

So, Anita and Micah are so full of magic and regalness and bubblegum that they bond and bind all the wereleopards while they're at it. If I gave a single shit about any of these people (besides Merle, love ya Merle) this might be moving. If it were written with a single ounce of care or craft, it might become something quite lovely. But as it is, it even falls short as a fanfic. It's just a deus ex machina dressed up in Valentine's Day tissue paper.

There's horrible metaphor soup for a main course, garnished with fresh chopped analogies and drizzled with a zesty adjective oil. Dear god, now I'm doing it.

The bonds are like wheel spokes but also the wheel is warm and liquid. Anita must have peed in the pool a lot as a child.

"It was if Micah's body and mine were a door and we stepped in to each other..."

Well actually, you'd both go clear on through to the other side. Which is sort of what doors do.

Anita and Micah's beasts are like a rope, but a rope that burns and rolls through everyone else. Eat the brownies of woe, dear little readers, because this is a funeral and the dearly departed is Good Writing. Gather around for some hot dish casserole because the wailing is going to go on for a good long while.

I am going to keep inflicting these food descriptions on you, too, because if LKH can do it SO CAN I.

Anita can see everyone's trauma, because privacy is for sissies and dealing with abuse in your own way as an autonomous individual is not allowed. A couple of them have good memories, but mostly it's the kind of shallow recounting that many lesser writers call on to prop up a lagging story.

She can also see and feel that Gregory is, at this moment, tied up somewhere and terrified.

Oh yeah, Gregory. Remember him? I barely do.

The bonding is so beautiful and amazing that even some of the rats cry. Anita cries. I am so conflicted. On the one hand I really want to like this, since I think in the hands of someone else this could be exceptional. On the other hand the books are so without care or craft that everything in them just becomes offensive word slurry.

Richard shows up and he's all beastly and hot. LKH tries her absolute hardest and squeezes out a few nuggets of description that don't make me want to take a meat fork to my windpipe.

Shang Da and Jamil show up, so strap in because I'm sure there will be some racist crap soon enough. Richard formally welcomes the rats and the leopards, which reminds me that all of these dumbass animals have stupid clans and clan names for no real reason. It irks me beyond belief that all the animal groups act the same and have the same structure.

Anita needles Micah about why all the leopards are traumatized because she is a callous narcissist who doesn't realize that it's none of her business, Nimir Ra or not, and that the lupanar is not the place to discuss it.

Micah reveals that their abusive alpha is still out there and hunting them, so Anita will have to deal with that if she really wants to be their Nimir Ra. Well, her beast or whatever already made the choice for her so she's shit out of luck. Consent is so blase. So feminist. So icky.

One of these days I am going to see how many rage babies I can cram in to a single post.

This is another knob polishing session, because Anita has created a real home for her leopards and she loves them like a mother loves her children.

I CAN'T. SEND HELP.

EAT THE SORBET OF DISCONTENT.

..."you gave us a glimpse of what we are all striving for, for our clans. Richard believes his moral rightness will get him where your leopards already are."

So I was sitting here trying to formulate a sentence that would communicate how much I deeply, completely, loathe the way this disgusting self insert is given a constant tongue bath by everyone around her, when I made the mistake of reading the next bit:

"First I have to accept the fact that you're kindhearted, now I have to accept the fact that you're insightful as well. I knew you were powerful, ruthless, and pretty, but that you have a mind and a heart besides is going to take some getting used to." 

This description is like a pancake made of vomit, but it is also like scrambled eggs that are warm, but sprinkled with arsenic. Wait no, it's like a vomit pancake,  but the pancake is actually a wheel, a wheel that is hot, that runs you over so you don't have to read the rest of this fucking thing.

What? I can dream.

"You can bandage a wound, set a broken bone, but not caring...you can't cure that, and you can't recover from it."