Shannon > Recent Status Updates

"A thousand girls would sell their own mothers to be in your shoes, and yet here you are, miserable and sulking like a child. So tell me, girl. What is your sad little heart pining for?"

I'm glad we have some characters calling out Alina's shitty attitude, but I almost feel like they're the author telling us, "Yes, I know she's a whiny brat who complains about everything, but give her a chance ..."

"Because she's jealous!" said Nadia.
"Of me?" I said incredulously.
Marie rolled her eyes. "She can't bear the idea of anyone being the Darkling's favorite."

Yes, of course she's jealous. All women hate all other women, especially if a man is in between them. And of course, you must do everything to catch the eye of the man. Even fracture another girl's rib. That's totally cool and plausible.

I watched her warily. I wasn't sure why this girl hated me so much, but I'd had just about enough for one day.

Oh, I'm sure she hates you because she's JUST JEALOUS. These girls. I just can't.

"Why shouldn't I be afraid of you?" I asked. "You're the Darkling. I'm not saying you would throw me in a ditch or ship me off to Tsibeya, but you certainly could. You can cut people in half. I think it's fair to be intimidated."

He's been nothing but patient and kind to her and all she does is throw that back in his face and remind him he's feared for being different. She should show WAY more compassion.

The only place I'd ever felt I belonged was with Mal, and even that hadn't lasted. For all her beauty, maybe Genya and I weren't so different after all.

This is really frustrating. Alina has a power that NOBODY ELSE HAS and all she cares about is that there are people that are better-looking than her and that a boy she is best friends with might not be attracted to her. THESE THINGS DON'T MATTER. Priorities, girl.

If a creature as gorgeous as Genya could fall for a skinny, studious Fabrikator, there might be hope for me yet.

Maybe Genya thinks people are worth more than their outward beauty? For someone with such supposed low self-esteem Alina sure has no problem judging others.

Plates of rye bread and pickled herring were placed in front of us, and I had to stifle a gag. I hate herring.

For someone who used to be just a poor orphan she sure is picky and opinionated.

"We sit here, at the right hand of the Darkling," said Marie, pride in her voice, gesturing down the length of the table where more Grisha in blue kefta sat. [...]
It occurred to me that if we were at the right hand of the Darkling, the Corporalki were just as close to him on the left, but I didn't mention that.

These people are so petty towards each other, and I get it, they think they're hot shit.

"Are you so anxious to be like everyone else?"

Alina's choice for the color of her robes is disappointing. She's not worthy of The Darkling's interest. She has a special power. The Darkling things she's special. Grisha are special. She needs to stop thinking it'd be a good idea to fade into the background: what part of "You can do something nobody has been able to do for hundreds of years" does she not get?

"This isn't fair," I whispered angrily. "I don't know what the King thinks I can do, but it isn't fair to throw me out there and expect me to just ... make things happen."

Please, whine some more, it's incredibly endearing.

"So I'm beautiful. That doesn't mean much among Grisha. The Darkling doesn't care what you look like, just what you can do."
"Then why did he send you?"
"Because the King loves beauty and the Darkling knows that. In the King's court, appearances are everything. If you're to be the salvation of all of Ravka ... well, it would be better if you looked the part."

This disappoints me.

"I don't have time for this," a female voice snapped from behind the door. "Open. Now!"
I shrugged. Let them kill me or kidnap me or whatever they wanted. As long as I didn't have to ride a horse or climb stairs, I wouldn't complain.

She really needs to work on her feelings of self-preservation and worth. If you're quite possibly the hope of the kingdom, how about you care whether you're killed or not?

見つけた！

Me gusta El Darkling.

Leyendo con Cillian ^_^

The clutter that you see in South Korea is entirely absent. There is almost no signage, few motor vehicles. Private ownership of cars is largely illegal, not that anyone can afford them. You seldom even see tractors, only scraggly oxen dragging plows. The houses are simple, utilitarian, and monochromatic. There is little that predates the Korean War.

A part of me would love to see NK in person. It sounds so surreal

There are no love hotels in North Korea. Casual intimacy between the sexes is discouraged. Still, I tried to pry gently about how far the relationship went.
Mi-ran laughed.
"It took us three years to hold hands. Another six to kiss," she said. "I would never have dreamed of doing anything more. At the time I left North Korea, I was 26 years old and a schoolteacher, and I didn't know how babies were conceived."

Whether in CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia, or in the East Asian studies department of a university, people usually analyze North Korea from afar. They don't stop to think that in the middle of this black hole, in this bleak, dark country where millions have died of starvation, there is also love.

Hmm.

"We need that bowler-hat thingy from that James Bond movie," I whispered. "We could just throw it from far away and cut off someone's head."
Both men looked at me silently, then Daisuke went on as if I hadn't spoken. Fine. A girl tries to help.

I've seen this before, but it still amazes me.

And now for something completely different.

Holy shit. Did NOT see that coming. Finally ramping things up now, I see.

誰か、日本語を読められる？

Ottavio came and sat before me, coldly and silently daring me to protest.
I decided to meditate about being a woman ... the monthly cyclic event that ties us so primally to the earth, and took a fun-filled foray into a memory of how women have dealt with that monthly cyclic event through the ages. Reusable cloths that you have to wash and dry, anyone? Wads of dry moss?
He lasted five minutes.

Acknowledgments
[...]
And, most importantly: Thank you, Satan! I couldn't have done it without you.

Well ... ok then.

"I'm not here to protect you. I'm here to protect my sister, from you if necessary. And I can make it worth your while to leave here."
Now, this was interesting. "How?" Like, could he arrange for me to meet the guy who played Wolverine? 'Cause that might be worth my while.

:D

I turned off the griddle and shoved the heavy platter at Ottavio. "Carry these in for me, willya, Ott? And the ones on top are for you."
I swept past him into the dining room, where almost everyone had gathered. As the swinging door opened again, I heard River laughing and smirked to myself. The pancakes on top had been shaped like a certain part of the male anatomy that seemed synonymous with Ottavio.

"River's brother Ottavio is there."
Anne's surprise changed to astonishment. "Ottavio! Here?"
I nodded. "He already hates me. And he just got here. Usually I have to, you know, talk or something."

No one rubbed it in, no one tsked, no one even looked at me funny. Because they're all so much cooler than I am, right? So much more experienced, both in the ways of the world and the ways of redemption. By not giving me a hard time, they were advancing on their own karmic joyride. So, actually, they should thank me. For giving them so many opportunities to shine.