Why is there so much Mal hate in the Grisha fandom? I really don’t understand. People worship the Darkling, but hate Mal. They say Mal acted like an ass in S&S, but nobody thinks it was ass-ish for the Darkling to expand the fold over that entire village in S&B?
People hate Mal because he’s scared of Alina’s powers. But isn’t that kind of reasonable? A girl he’s loved all his life is changing right before his eyes, and he’s powerless against it all, does he have to be enthusiastic? Mal is supportive of Alina “You’re my flag. You’re my nation.”
When you’re losing someone you love and can’t do anything to stop it, it hurts. And people who are in pain don’t exactly act pleasant, why does that open a door for hate?
Personally, I love their love story. I love in the prologue and epilogue in both books it refers to them as the boy and the girl. I love how they’re best friends who finally expressed their love for one another. I love how real Mal’s character is. Things are going bad? He’s upset, but always ready to support and save Alina. How, even though he can’t see a bright future, he stays by her side anyway. He thinks the amplifiers are a bad idea, but is always tracking them for her.
I will defend Mal’s character to the death, my God.
Sydrian Escape Plans
The “escape plans” were a running joke with us, always far-fetched and numbered in no particular order. I usually made them up on the spot. What was sad, though, was that they were actually more thought out than any real plans we had. Both of us were painfully aware that we were very much living in the now, with a future that was anything but clear.
Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older? Then we wouldn’t have to wait so long
And wouldn’t it be nice to live together in the kind of world where we belong.
With nothing but fine dust and mud between us, I slid right over to them—right into Liam’s outstretched hands.
“No fair,” I whined.
“Come on, Green,” he said. “You could use a good dance.”
Zu spun around us, waving her arms in time to “Wouldn’t It Be Nice.” I put my hand over Liam’s, letting him drop it over one of his shoulders. He took my other hand without asking, and held it lightly in his own. “Step up on my feet.”
I gave him what I hoped was an incredulous look.
“Trust me,” he said. “Come on, before our song is over.”
Against all my better judgment, I put my feet over his, waiting for him to wince at my weight.