I looked at my cell. It was broken.
The time still read 11:59.
But I knew it was well after midnight, because the fireworks finale had started
then what the fuck is the point
what is the point of anything really but this particularly just what the fuck is the point
besides why would a broken cellphone be stuck on a time and not just a blank screen?
this fucking book
what the fuck is the point
Well. Emothan blathers on a bit about how he’s feeling kind of beat up and he’s in a different place and blah blah already know read it last chapter.
Macon Ravenwood. Dead.
Maybe he had always been dead, I didn’t know
Why would you fucking think this? He was supposedly a separate type of creature that has kids who grow up and have kids of their own and eventually die of old age and otherwise seem exactly like living things. The only suggestion lilum work anything like vampires was Lena’s bit last chapter about him being cold and she made sure to mention that he was normally always warm so it’s not like the guy was corpse-cold in his normal life.
The next morning, I pieced together a few things about the night of Lena’s birthday. Macon was the only casualty.
Except for the three members of her family she deliberately murdered.
Apparently Pretty Suit got his butt kicked because actually dreameating sucks compared to blood drinking in terms of power, and apparently everything he said to Emothan on the subject was a lie, but then let’s face it who wouldn’t lie to fucking Emothan.
I guess he had never really stood a chance against Hunting. Still, it hadn’t stopped him from trying. Macon always said he would do anything for Lena. In the end, he was a man of his word.
I should point out he gets his ass kicked because he chucks his brother than turns around secure in the knowledge that’s all it’d take for him to win. So yet another plot hole – we’re being told now it’s inevitable, but at the time he acts like he’s got the upper hand and he ultimately dies of arrogance, which, while certainly fitting, does not make sense with him being totally outclassed.
Come to think of it, why’s he even in charge of Ravenwood? His brother seemed upset with what he was doing with the place, why didn’t his brother keep it if he’s the stronger one?
I was fuzzy on the details, like everything else right now, but it appeared that Lena, Macon, all of us had underestimated Lena’s powers as a Natural. She had somehow managed to block out the moon and save herself from being Claimed after all. Without the Claiming, it looked like Sarafine, Hunting, and Larkin had fled, at least for now.
Ooh, that’s why. They don’t realize she killed them all.
Also yup that sure is a rape metaphor.
In her room is one more damn poem.
i lay my head down on his chest and cried because he had lived
because he had died
a dry ocean, a desert of emotion
happysad darklight sorrowjoy swept over me, under me
i could hear the sound but i could not understand the words
and then i realized the sound was me, breaking
in one moment i was feeling everything and i was feeling nothing
i was shattered, i was saved, i lost everything, i was given
something in me died, something in me was born, i only knew
the girl was gone
whoever i was now, i would never be her again this is the way
the world ends not with a bang but a whimper
claim yourself claim yourself claim yourself claim
gratitude fury love despair hope hate
first green is gold but nothing green can stay
He makes a big point of explaining to the class that the line is supposed to be nothing gold can stay but thinks Maybe it all looked the same to her now. and no moron she’s obviously taking the line and intensifying it to mean that first the gold disappears then even the green thus “don’t try” because everything leaves. Which, you know, melodramatic bullshit, but at least it’s clever about it.
I remembered how much it hurt for life to go on, for aunts and grandmothers to be making plans, calling relatives, sweeping up the pieces when all you wanted to do was crawl into the coffin, too. Or maybe plant a lemon tree, fry some tomatoes, build a monument with your bare hands.
Okay, see, those are opposing impulses. The coffin crawling is giving up, the planting a tree is doing something constructive. Also, I note you haven’t fried any tomatoes the whole time your mom’s been dead, so, I’m calling bullshit on that actually being one of your impulses.
Lena is hanging out where they found the body saying the usual stuff about not getting to take back that last fight she had I don’t fucking care book I really don’t.
She’s wearing his mom’s ring, he says he loves her and promises to always love her exactly this much for all time and is this going anywhere? Please just get there already.
when I looked into her eyes, I noticed for the first time that one was green, and one was hazel—actually, more like gold.
See, that’s legitimately slightly interesting. Let’s talk about that.
It was almost noon by the time I started the long walk home.
Oh fuck you.
The locket. Lena and I would have to find a way to give it back to the other Ethan Wate, the one lying in his grave, just as Genevieve had wanted us to. Maybe it would give Ethan Carter Wate some peace.
There’s no evidence he isn’t, also, what the fuck was that whole subplot? The fact he’s related to, shares the name and looks exactly like him all amounted to nothing. None of this had anything to do with repairing the bond between the families or anything, and it’s not like the curse was on his side and saving him was required, and Lena would have gotten upset over whoever her boyfriend had happened to be.
I thought about Macon, his books tied with string and paper, his perfectly pressed shirts, and his even more perfect composure.
Yes I know you’re sad you didn’t get to make out with him even once when he’s your ideal man.
He thinks maybe ghost Pretty Suit might still be around the way his mom is. If only there was someone who could talk to ghosts around. If only. Or maybe a family of magic users who could tell you where not-vampires fit into the ghost system! Or a giant library of “scrolls” on every possible subject! I hate this fucking book.
I looked up at the sky. The swirls of gray were seeping across the flat blue, as blue as the paint on my bedroom ceiling. I wondered if that one shade of blue really kept the carpenter bees from nesting. I wondered if those bees really believed it was the sky.
It’s called Haint Blue because it’s for ghosts, moron.
Obviously doesn’t do you any good against not-vampires, though, so you might want to look into that. Just because Pretty Suit’s no longer there to creepily rummage through your head while you sleep doesn’t mean a new one won’t show up next book. And that one might have tits, the source of all evil.
Or maybe it’d actually be something sort of cool, like
Why aren’t there ever cool supernatural things like that in the books you make me read?
Imagine THAT being what shows up in Emothan’s room to politely discuss the current state of affairs.
THAT would motivate him to find the proper shade of blue to keep things out.
I pulled my iPod out of my pocket and turned it on. There was a new song on the playlist.
I stared at it for a long time.
I clicked on it.
Seventeen moons, seventeen years,
Eyes where Dark or Light appears,
Gold for yes and green for no,
Seventeen the last to know.
Oh, so close! The song’s appearance? Creepy. That moment of hesitation? Nice suspense there. The actual lyrics? It’s like all the fuck-giving has magically drained right out of my body.
We then get into acknowledgements, which claim the original draft of the book took only three months and then lists an awful lot of supposedly helpful people who failed to fix this monstrosity.