Gears

I looked it up after you mentioned it.

No, but I've just found it, so I suppose I'll read it now.

3 days. One book a day. If you cut out the time spent not reading, it took about 15 hours for all of them.

Meaning of life, aleph null, emptiness, nullify aleph, lives of meaning

So, Lord-son-son-Silberfarben was engaging in Hemalurgic activities. What a violation of social expectations! To be honest, the Anarchist didn't really care about the Hemalurgy, but this was the perfect excuse to bring down a guild! "Sure. I'll get to test out those caesium bombs! I'd better start advertising a destruction of a guild. Stop by later when you're done with the bombs, yeah?"

The Anarchist smiled widely at the sight. A new type of explosive to play with. How fun! "Thank you, Ms. Adama." "Well, if you don't want to leave, you could pull out the knife in the door," the Anarchist said. "It's pretty stuck in there, and then maybe you could fix the door? Giant stab wounds do not a nice door make."

Incorrect, though altering opinions impossible, enjoying impossibility, opinions altering, though incorrect

Both based on root "success"

Now it is.

Aye

Craving victory, losing it, reclaim the win, the reclamation it loses, victory cravings.

Grammatical case varies, ketek difficulty falls, successful poems, successive falling difficulties, keteks vary, casing grammar.

Failure to haiku, writing syllabic lines, lovely little words, little lovely linear syllables, writing haikus to fail.

"So, we're infiltrating Trader's Heaven," the Anarchist said. "If you want to help, Lena's already there. Also, get to know everyone. There are a lot of people lurking in the corners, like that person." The Anarchist pointed at a random person, who happened to be Shade. "You there with the knife! Are you going to join up? If so, give your name to Rosaleine and go meet Lena at Trader's Heaven." @kenod

My problem is that I have worlds but no plot to drive them and no names for anything. Here are some things that may or may not be related. A continent has been dominated by a hive-mind sentient plant species/entity [also not sexual dimorphic, so I have no idea what I should do for pronouns [and it doesn't use pronouns amongst itself because it are one massive entity and consider each "individual" to be the equivalent of body parts, so...] from the perspective of the invaders without seeming rude in some way. I would prefer it/its for each "individual", but is that dehumanising? It is a tree though.] that is very difficult to kill because it are actually one massive root system of trees, like Pando except the connections are psychic, not physical [though they can be if the individuals bury some tendrils in the ground]. This continent has been isolated from the rest of the world by ocean until other continents discover ships. Then the invaders chop down trees which are actually the "dead" [they aren't really dead, they've just slowed down to the point where they are useless to the species/entity] so the tree entity goes to war [it doesn't actually have war, it's just eliminating a threat to its species/self]. [As I'm typing up this post, I just realised that I genuinely have a plot, but just let me tell you about the world.] An island has a species that was a parasite for a plant that is similar to anemones but on land [basically, they're human clownfish] that grows a moss-like thing that the species has evolved to consume [maybe, I don't really know, something bad]. Other food sources became more viable as time went on and the species stopped eating the moss. However, industrialisation is killing the anemone things [whether through a change to the gasses in the air or some other mechanism that I haven't thought of] and there are protests against. [I stole the idea of a ruined land from the Marshall Islands and Wendover Productions' wonderful documentary on Nebula.] A culture that has the primary objective of remaining unremembered. "To leave no imprint on the path, to walk only where others have tread before, to hide in the shadows of giants." They only risk being remembered when one of their own has broken their sacred commandment and has impacted the world in some fundamental way. At the end of the story, the person of this culture will have a toast with the protagonist, recount some memories, and reveal that they have added a memory-altering substance that will remove them from the protagonist's memories. Epilogue opens with the person walking past the protagonist and the protagonist saying, "Do I know you?" and them replying, "No, I just have one of those faces." I have more, but this post is so long that I'm scared that the Shard will eat it, so I'll just let it be.

I have no idea what is going on, but from reading previous pages, you are "singing" a song from a show called "Phineas and Ferb"? What is this show? [Yes, I could look it up, but I want your take on it.]

Humans Exist Like Pinatas. Mostly Empty.

Heart warms, compliments like oxygen, magnificence incarnate, magnificent oxygenation likability, warming hearts.

Fear, in ice from running rivers, cold eyes turning to needles chilling hands and warming hearts, warmed and handing chilled needles too turned eyes cold, rivers run from ice in fear.

Chapter 6 demonstrates Leshwi and Kaladin having similar morals and mutual respect. If you want to take that as Stormlight for your spheres, be my guest. I personally would rather have them as good friends, not lovers, but take it as you will.

It burns, fire scorching interesting pages, the light so bright, so light the page's interest, scorching fire burns it.

So Navani's revealing fabrial secrets to monarchs. Interesting. "As she'd feared, he'd come to rescue her." Do you not inform people of your plans? I am really feeling the "in medias res" of this book. Assassination! "The Heavenly Ones' sense of honour." Mutual respect to stay alive. Renarin used Balls of Light! It's super effective! They're looking for the Spiritual Realm! Navani's looking for the power of the gods, and Rushu thinks that's neat. Leshwi and Kaladin have very similar morals. I think that's because Brandon read 7/8 already.

The Anarchist handed Lena a business card. "My phone number's on there. Give me a call if you're dying, a text if you're not. I'll find them once we finish up here."

Welcome to the club. I personally exist as an NB by being completely apathetic. This is probably not a good idea. Care about the things worth caring about, nothing more, nothing less.

It burns, fire scorching interesting pages, the light so bright, so light the page's interest, scorching fire burns it.