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I'm reading Siege and Storm (chapter 9 — chapter 10)

1. Wow, the first words in the chapter and I completely fucking agree with Mal. Wow.

2. Well, what can I say…

Chaos had erupted after my outburst, and only some fast talking by Sturmhond and some very aggressive crowd control by Tolya had kept me from being taken away in chains or worse.

That's freaking SHAME, babe! LB can let her trying suicide attempts again and again, but unfortunately can't beat her up to a bloody pulp when it's exactly what should happen!

3. Okay, no, my eye literally twitching when I see this "Volkvolny" shit. Why can't she at least separate these words?! I don't know, I'm just annoyed.

4. I hate Alina's personality, by the way. The way she's so quick to be rude and physically aggressive only to switch to pretend to be the victim and passive coward.

5. Partly I'm gloating, knowing that these people don't deserve a moment of trust; partly I'm angry that fucking personal traitors just get off the hook in these books.

He sighed. “You have to understand, the only place I could safely reveal my identity was here in Ravka. Only the most trusted members of my crew knew who I really was — Tolya, Tamar, Privyet, a few of the Etherealki. The rest… well, they're good men, but they're also mercenaries and pirates.” “So you deceived your own crew?” I asked.

Alina is stupid. Of course.

6. …so, Nikolai has at least some problems with attention retention and probably hyperactivity.

7. Someone cut out Mal's tongue! I mean, he doesn't even have the excuse for being a walking lightbulb like the other stupid fucker here!

8. Let me clarify something…

Sturmhond leaned forward. “Did you meet my brother, Vasily, when you were at court? He cares more about horses and his next drink of whiskey than his people. My father never had more than a passing interest in governing Ravka, and reports are he’s lost even that. This country is coming apart. Someone needs to put it back together before it’s too late.” “Vasily is the heir,” I observed. “I think he can be convinced to step aside.” “That’s why you dragged us back here?” I said in disgust. “Because you want to be King?” “I dragged you back here because the Apparat has practically turned you into a living Saint, and the people love you. I dragged you back here because your power is the key to Ravka’s survival.” I banged my hands down on the table. “You dragged me back here so you could make a grand entrance with the Sun Summoner and steal your brother’s throne!”

First, his blond head urgently needs to be hammered with some common sense. I'm not fucking surprised that Vasily was supposed to kill him initially. It's too dumb to live.

Second, his whole plan is, “here we have problems that two incompetent Lantsovs can't solve, but ME, who's so improbable will be able to fix it somehow! And I also have a living Saint to wave in people's faces!”…? Am I getting that right?

9. Gotcha!

Sturmhond leaned back. “I’m not going to apologize for being ambitious. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m the best man for the job.” “Of course you are.”

This the main difference between him and the Darkling, which pointing out the double standards of the fandom!

The fucker wants to be the king because he's ambitious! Yet when it's about the Darkling, who only talk about the need to run the country, because there's just no one else — he's been watching this shitshow for centuries! And he's been trying to go with diplomacy for centuries! 'Cause your nice kings dying very easily — we're supposed to accept that he is the antagonist here, and you must side with the protagonists, cause the unreliable narrator claims the Darkling's greed with zero evidence.

Fuck you!

10. So, Nikolai may be more outright egoistic, and ambitious, and kinda ignorant, but he still share the misguide Sasha has a hope for:

“I know you don’t trust me. You have no reason to. But I’ll abide by what I promised you aboard the Volkvolny. Listen to what I have to offer. If you’re still not interested, Sturmhond’s ships will take you anywhere in the world. I think you’ll stay. I think I can give you something no one else can.” “This ought to be good,” muttered Mal. “I can give you the chance to change Ravka,” said Sturmhond. “I can give you the chance to bring your people hope.” “Oh, is that all?” I said sourly. “And just how am I supposed to do that?” “By helping me unite the First and Second Armies. By becoming my Queen.”

The belief that Alina care/can start to care about her country and people. No, boys. She's the Will-o'-the-Wisp.

11. a) I hate Mal; b) I loathe Alina; c) Kolya, please, gut him. Alina, shut the fuck up.

12. Well—

Some of Sturmhond’s composure seemed to leave him. “What did you think was going to happen? Did you think you could just carry off one of the most powerful Grisha in the world like some peasant girl you tumbled in a barn? Is that how you think this story ends? I’m trying to keep a country from falling apart, not steal your best girl.”

It's not a funny coincidence. It's not fucking funny at all.

13. Someone fix the bastard in this state, please?

“You can stay at the palace,” Nikolai continued. “Perhaps as the captain of her personal guard? It wouldn’t be the first such arrangement.” A muscle jumped in Mal’s jaw. “You make me sick.” Sturmhond gave a dismissive wave. “I’m a depraved monster, I know. Just think about what I’m saying for a moment.” “I don’t need to think about it,” Mal shouted. “And neither does she. It isn’t going to happen.” “It would be a marriage in name only,” Sturmhond insisted. Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he flashed Mal a taunting grin. “Except for the matter of producing heirs.”

At least he has the beginnings of awareness. And an interesting type of bitchy.

14. Surprisingly, but I'm with Alina here

Mal surged forward, and Sturmhond reached for his knife, but I saw what was coming and stepped between them. “Stop!” I shouted. “Just stop it. And stop talking about me as if I’m not here!”

Like, bitch (Mal), he didn't propose to you and he didn't talk to you. Snap your mouth shut and go cry in a corner.

15. I hate Mal—I hate Mal—I hate Mal— Alina, maybe open your eyes?! And it's not like I even care about you!

16. I hate Alina—I hate Alina—I hate Alina maybe more than I hate Mal, what the fuck—

“Mal, we always said we’d find a way to come back to Ravka, that we’d find a way to help. If we don’t do something, there may not be a Ravka to come back to.” He shook his head, but I turned to Nikolai and plunged on. “I’ll return to Os Alta with you, and I’ll consider helping you make a bid for the throne.” I took a deep breath. “But I want the Second Army.” The tent got very quiet. They were looking at me like I was mad. And, truth be told, I didn’t feel entirely sane. But I was done being shuffled across the True Sea and half of Ravka by people trying to use me and my power. Nikolai gave a nervous laugh. “The people love you, Alina, but I was thinking of a more symbolic title—” “I’m not a symbol,” I snapped. “And I’m tired of being a pawn.”

The bitch just want some power. The power she's obviously doesn't deserve, and I don't care enough about her feelings in the situation, since she's a hypocrite. And no, amplifiers have nothing to do with that, just remember what she thought about someone else's borrowed kefta the very moment she laid her disgusting little hands on one.

“Have you even held a command?” Nikolai asked. I’d once led a seminar of junior mapmakers, but I didn’t think that was what he meant. “No,” I admitted. “You have no experience, no precedent, and no claim,” he said. “The Second Army has been led by Darklings since it was founded.”

An incompetent little nobody, you mean?

“Age and birthright don’t matter to the Grisha. All they care about is power. I’m the only Grisha to ever wear two amplifiers. And I’m the only Grisha alive powerful enough to take on the Darkling or his shadow soldiers. No one else can do what I can.” I tried to put confidence in my voice, even though I wasn’t sure what had come over me. I just knew I was tired of living in fear. I was tired of running. And if Mal and I were to have any hope of locating the firebird, we needed answers. The Little Palace might be the only place to find them.

I hate her. Bitch, you know nothing about the Grisha of the Second Army. No, your delusions don't count! And experience ≠ age, but thanks for another example of just how stupid you are.

Could it be considered an anti-Grisha sentiments? I think so.

How can this stupid fandom claim that the Darkling oh-so-bad and just using his Grisha for the power, when Alina Starkov literally exist?!

17. Look at this and then me in the eyes, and dare to tell me he gives a single fuck about the Grisha.

For a long moment, the three of us just stood there. “Well,” Nikolai said. “Well.” He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, considering. Then he rose and offered me his hand. “All right, Summoner,” he said. “Help me win the people, and the Grisha are yours.”

Like, sure he doesn't hate them, but they're not his people and not even people at all. I mean, I know Before of R&R and I know he doesn't care about people if they're not his (under him) right now, but this only emphasizes how the Grisha are second-class people for him.

18. Alina is an interesting case, cause I hate the idea of her ending and the way she got some power equally.

Like the way she's running her mouth as if her opinion truly matters for some reason other than her innate ability? It's sickening to me. That she was punished by taking away this innate ability? It's sickening just the same. Because both are happening for the wrong reasons.

19. …why can't this bastard just shut the fuck up?

it's unbearable — the fuckers of Keramzin share most of their disgusting traits, they would be almost indistinguishable from each other if it weren't for the fact that one of them is in a prolonged depression and passive, which makes her a victim of the second, while they both doom the lives of all those around them. Ideally, these two should get therapy and never see each other ever again, but here we have a pseudo-19th century, and the narrative thinks everything is OK 👍 and the reader should actually sympathize with them.

They're both disgusting! I sympathize with neither! The fact that Alina is almost always Mal's victim just doesn't change it, unfortunately!

20. The most typical situation with Alina:

I lowered myself to the cot and rested my head in my hands. I was exhausted, and every bone in my body ached. “What am I supposed to do?” I pleaded. “What’s happening here, what’s happening to Ravka—part of the blame belongs to me.”

What is it?… Self-awareness?…

“That isn’t true.” I gave a hollow laugh. “Oh yes it is. If it weren’t for me, the Fold wouldn’t be growing. Novokribirsk would still be standing.”

Ah, shit, of course no. She's hopelessly narrow-minded.

21. I wonder why I don't believe in this shit?

He held my gaze. “Did it ever occur to you that I might say no?” My stomach dropped. It hadn’t. It had never entered my mind that Mal might refuse, and I felt suddenly ashamed. He had given up everything to be with me, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. Maybe he’d had enough of fighting and fear and uncertainty. Maybe he’d had enough of me.

1) Mal being a bitch again. The very moment she's important again; 2) Alina? Didn't doubt her decisions around him? Are you kidding me?

22. Since when?

“I thought… I thought we both wanted to help Ravka.” “Is that what we both wanted?” he asked.

Or does she mean "help Ravka" = "kill the Darkling" as a dumbass she is? Then why Mal suddenly doesn't want this?

Or is he stupid enough to believe that Alina started to care about the actual help? Why would he? Like, I get he doesn't want her to be important, but wasn't he the one who suggested to her passive ass to claim the Stag? Why did you create the problem in the first place?

He stood up and turned his back on me. I swallowed hard, forcing down the sudden ache in my throat. “Then you won’t go to Os Alta?” He paused at the entrance of the tent. “You wanted to wear the second amplifier. You have it. You want to go to Os Alta? Fine, we’ll go. You say you need the firebird. I’ll find a way to get it for you. But when all this is over, Alina, I wonder if you’ll still want me.”

Okay, on all seriousness, can we consider it as an attempt to gaslight her? He's the one who showed her this path and now making her feel guilty 'cause he's suddenly doesn't feel himself important enough. As if it's all her fault.

23. I "love" that we have to get information about Grisha power from her ignorant, unschooled POV.

24. The Darkling is a fucking saint — I would destroy the world long ago If I were him.

Not a single Grisha remained at the encampment. After the Darkling’s attempted coup and the destruction of Novokribirsk, a wave of anti-Grisha sentiment had swept through Ravka and the ranks of the First Army. I wasn’t surprised. An entire town was gone, its people food for monsters. Ravka wouldn’t soon forget. Neither could I. Some Grisha had fled to Os Alta to seek the protection of the King. Others had gone into hiding. Nikolai suspected that most of them had sought out the Darkling and defected to his side. <<…>>

I hate her. Wish Alina had died in the Fold at the end of S&B. As the same ending shows, she's pretty useless anyway.

25. The most important things you need to smuggle in when you're trying to prepare for a civil war and plan to usurp the throne, all in a country that's exhausted from a defensive war on two fronts: weapons, sugar, and a plant with psychoactive substances, because drug your soldiers is definitely better than forcing peace with threats of using the magical equivalent of nuclear weapon. 👍🤡

26. So, we know that Mal's most typical behavior is to punish with silence and deprive of the emotional support (which he demonstrated back in the first book) until Alina remembers her place again, which is his footstool. Such a lovely childhood sweetheart, right?

27. …

We set out before dawn, a twisting procession of horses and wagons that wended its way out of camp on the broad road known as the Vy. Nikolai had obtained a plain blue kefta for me, but it was tucked away in the luggage. Until he had more of his own men in place to guard me, I was just another soldier in the prince’s retinue.

From where, I'm afraid to ask…?

28. Such an interesting bullshit

The real revelation came when we reached the church. I remembered it as a tidy building capped by bright blue domes. Now the whitewashed walls were covered in writing, row after row of names written in red paint that had dried to the color of blood. The steps were littered with heaps of withered flowers, small painted icons, the melted stubs of prayer candles. I saw bottles of kvas, piles of candy, the abandoned body of a child’s doll. Gifts for the dead. I scanned the names: Stepan Ruschkin, 57 Anya Sirenka, 13 Mikah Lasky, 45 Rebeka Lasky, 44 Petyr Ozerov, 22 Marina Koska, 19 Valentin Yomki, 72 Sasha Penkin, 8 months They went on and on. My fingers tightened on the reins as a cold fist closed over my heart. Memories came back to me unbidden: a mother running with a child in her arms, a man stumbling as the darkness caught him, his mouth open in a scream, an old woman, confused and frightened, swallowed by the panicked crowd. I’d seen it all. I’d made it possible. These were the people of Novokribirsk, the city that had once stood directly across from Kribirsk on the other side of the Fold. A sister city full of relatives, friends, business partners. People who had worked the docks and manned the skiffs, some who must have survived multiple crossings. They’d lived on the edge of a horror, thinking they were safe in their own homes, walking the streets of their little port town. And now they were all gone because I’d failed to stop the Darkling.

Of course, people of Kribirsk know the names and age of random people from the other side of the Fold! These are not your typical sister cities! The Fold isn't your river or lake!

I shook my head. I wanted to remember. Tasha Stol, Andrei Bazin, Shura Rychenko. As many as I could. They’d been murdered by the Darkling. Did they haunt his sleep the way they haunted mine? “We have to stop him, Mal,” I said hoarsely. “We have to find a way.”

Sure, Jan.

But while you here, what about the sandskiff? A Squaller named Nathalia? I am sure he is haunted by centuries of persecution, murder, and torture of his people and their families. Centuries of wars over and over again, that he tried to stop.

No? Oh, of course, keep only lament about those you've seen in person. By the way, share your visual acuity with me, it's supernatural anyway.

29. "Bones of Sankta Alina" is very ironic when you think about living amplifiers. At least they really make practical sense. Not like this fake Saint. Some sympathy maybe? I still can't believe some in the fandom forgetting that Aleksander is an amplifier.

30. *a cough and a furtive glance in the direction of the certain General. Eh, in a better universe—*

He seemed to relax in their presence and, once again, I noticed his demeanor change. He’d transitioned effortlessly from the role of glib adventurer to arrogant prince, and now he became a beloved commander, a soldier who laughed easily with his companions and knew each commoner’s name.

31. if you're not completely blind,

“If you intend to lead the Second Army and take the Darkling’s place, then you need to look the part.” “Summoners wear blue,” I said irritably. “Don’t underestimate the power of the grand gesture, Alina. The people like spectacle. The Darkling understood that.”

why the fuck are you choose her dumb ass?

32. Fuck Mal, fuck Alina, just give black kefta to me!

By the way, would be a pretty entertaining AU if some other Grisha would outshine her Sun Summoner's stupid ass, and overthrow the idiots from within, and greet the Darkling, all the while wearing black.

33. Oh, they're making me sick—

I pushed my plate away. “Just whose fingers are you telling me to cut off?” “I’m telling you that if you want to be a leader, it’s time you started thinking and acting like one.” “I’ve heard this before, you know, from the Darkling and his supporters. Be brutal. Be cruel. More lives will be saved in the long run.” “Do you think I’m like the Darkling?” I studied him—the golden hair, the sharp uniform, those too-clever hazel eyes. “No,” I said slowly. “I don’t think you are.” I rose to go join Mal. “But I’ve been wrong before.”

Shove this stupid idealism up your ass!

I know we all wish for humans becoming peaceful and all of that, but let's be real? Unfortunately our kind is too far away from this wonderful new world right now.

These books is the pseudo-19th century!

Because he isn't like the Darkling is exactly the reason he would be (and, ironically enough, was) a bad king!

34. Oh, look,

<<…>> Every able body had been drafted to serve in the King’s Army and fight in Ravka’s endless wars. The cemeteries were as big as the towns.

they remember whose wars these are. Yet.

35. Look, bitch,

<<…>> I felt like a complete fraud, and I said as much to Nikolai. “What do you mean?” he asked, genuinely puzzled. “The people love you.” “You mean they love your prize goat,” I grumbled as we rode out of one town. “Have you actually won any prizes?” “This isn’t funny,” I whispered angrily. “You’ve seen what the Darkling can do. These people will be sending their sons and daughters off to fight nichevo’ya, and I won’t be able to save them. You’re feeding them a lie.” “We’re giving them hope. That’s better than nothing.” “Spoken like a man who’s never had nothing,” I said, and wheeled my horse away.

maybe you shouldn't have fucked up their chances of achieving peace in the first place, no?! Ah, right, you're cool with them keep dying in Ravka’s wars, but the civil war with the Darkling is over the line or something.

36. Aw, bigot and deserter has earned the trust of fellow bigots.

<<…>> He didn’t talk much, but he seemed to be thawing a bit. Nikolai had circulated the story of how the Darkling had tried to execute Mal on the Fold. It had earned Mal instant trust among the soldiers, even a small measure of celebrity. Occasionally, he scouted with the trackers in the unit, and he was trying to teach Tolya how to hunt, though the big Grisha wasn’t much for stalking silently through the woods.

How heartwarming, right? *a sneer*

37. Tell me more about what Starkov was supposed to be, aka peasant soldier during the absolute monarchy.

My thoughts strayed to the firebird. Some part of me still couldn’t quite believe it was real. Would it look the way it had in the pages of the red book, its feathers wrought in white and gold? Or would its wings be tipped with fire? And what kind of monster would nock an arrow and bring it down? I had refused to take the stag’s life, and countless people had died because of it — the citizens of Novokribirsk, the Grisha and soldiers I’d abandoned on the Darkling’s skiff. I thought of those high church walls covered in the names of the dead. Morozova’s stag. Rusalye. The firebird. Legends come to life before my eyes, just to die in front of me. I remembered the sea whip’s heaving sides, the thready whistle of its last breaths. It had been on the brink of death, and still I’d hesitated. I don’t want to be a killer. But mercy might not be a gift the Sun Summoner could afford. I gave myself a shake. First we had to find the firebird. Until then, all our hopes rested on the shoulders of one untrustworthy prince.

You don't understand what mercy is, bitch! Even I, as a real shielded and spoiled young adult of the 21st century, know that putting an end to the suffering of the seriously injured is more merciful than just standing by and watching! It's one thing not to want to do it or not to be able to, it's another to sincerely not understand!

And, oh, so you do remember about the sandskiff? Then I let myself a correction: their deaths have nothing to do with the Stag — Alina is the only one to blame!

38. I don't know, I'm tired.

Sometimes I was Sankta Alina, sometimes Alina the Just or the Bright or the Merciful. Daughter of Keramzin, they shouted, Daughter of Ravka. Daughter of the Fold. Rebe Dva Stolba, they called me, Daughter of Two Mills, after the valley that was home to the nameless settlement of my birth. I had the vaguest memory of the ruins the valley was named after, two rocky spindles by the side of a dusty road. The Apparat had been busy breaking open my past, sifting through the rubble to build the story of a Saint.

Bad writing I'll say. She doesn't know her exact age, doesn't remember her parents, was brainwashed to forget it, but does she remember the name of the valley? Bullshit!

39. Their mother was a religious fanatic?

Tamar pushed a piece of overcooked potato around on her plate and said, “My mother told me that Grisha power is a divine gift.”

I wonder how, considering the Small Science all about… well, science?…

I squirmed in my chair. “I don’t want to be a Saint, Tamar. I’m not trying to save the world. I just want to find a way to defeat the Darkling.” “Rebuild the Second Army. Defeat the Darkling. Destroy the Fold. Free Ravka. Call it what you like, but that all sounds suspiciously like saving the world.” Well, when she put it that way, it did seem a little ambitious. <<…>>

No, it's not?! Just stupid as fuck?!

#3 months in my drafts #anti grisha sentiments #kefta #anti alina starkov #very much #anti mal oretsev #as always #anti malina #anti grishaverse #nikolai lantsov #anti leigh bardugo #bad writing #pro darkling #pro aleksander morozova #he was TOO SOFT #siege and storm