SO REAL!!! He SUCKS!!!

She KILLED HER SPREN??

Stormlight Archives Spoilers

Hmmm… the Fourth Ideal, something Kaladin cannot say… if we look at the themes of his story so far, it’s probably something like “I will protect only those I can”. Kaladin has always struggled with accepting that he can’t save EVERYONE, because he is just… too compassionate, but it’s gotten to the point where it’s crippling his ability to act, to save anyone. I expect Rhythm of War is gonna have a lot of Kaladin brooding

does anyone wanna hold hands until we feel a little braver

Something fascinating about Words of Radiance in comparison to Way of Kings is… everyone is so much angrier??? Kaladin and Shallan are like- mostly just pitiful the entire first book, but now that their situations are improved the both of them just go off the rails.

Soony Cubs.

Mistborn Era 2 is easily the funniest series I’ve read in the Cosmere. Like. He goes crazy with the humor this time.

Rhythm of War/Mistborn Era One Spoilers

I- wait. Is. Is the Shard in the Interludes. Is that. Is that fuckin SAZED.

YEAH FUCK YOU AMARAM YOU FILTHY CUCK

Shadows of Self Spoilers

She’s wearing Lessie’s face… and knew in intricate detail how she “died”. She was either Bloody Tan… or Lessie herself. I am. I am confident Lessie was a Kandra the whole time. It fits her hatred of being manipulated by Harmony… maybe she actually loved him? Maybe she didn’t want to lose the life they lived at the time. Maybe she was forced to go along with Sazed’s plans and lost her favorite face… and that broke her. Fuck, please if I’m right I’m going to be irreparable.

My Poor Friend Ichabod

The party was excellent. I was so, so charmed by all that I saw that day. The guests - each and every one - was as dashing as any other in great Virginia... Save poor Ichabod. He arrived to the event looking like a man haunted. The poor sod had the manner of a mule who'd been working the mill for days without rest, but I *knew* he got the rest of any other man, and hardly lifted an arm to help the young men around town with physical labor. But still, a man didn't look that way with no reason. In those days, I'd considered him a friend. Our repour was a charming one. We played with each other in those days like young men do, pranks and soft jabs. He was perhaps my most favored man in the whole town. It was on that assumption that I approached him, teeth gleaming to perhaps shine some light on his dark demeanor.

He was always a grim man, so I thought to perhaps cheer him up with a tall tale. Some of the worker boys told me about some ghost or other earlier that day, so I related the story to him. He kept glancing around the party as I spoke, then suddenly, he began to walk off. It was with shock that I took his curt dismissal of my kindness. He stormed by with little more than a word, marching through the hall directly towards my Katrina. I wasn't so dense as to not know he held affection for my lady, but... Well I thought he'd known we'd been engaged since before he arrived in town. Perhaps I should have told him.

He proposed. She declined. He ran. The night was dark, but worse, I knew the weather was growing harsh. I couldn't allow him to simply ride through the woods of rural Virginia in the height of wolf season with a storm brewing, so I quickly got to my own steed and followed him. We raced through town like shades of the night, he was shouting curses and his manner was frantic. The poor man was delirious and so stricken with grief over his lost love.

Then we approached the great bridge. The rain began to fall and his horse galloped unto the paving stones. This I remember clearly: A shine of orange in the midst of the bridge. There was a pumpkin, obviously fallen from a nearby cart, in the middle of the highpoint of the stone arch. When Ichabod's equine steed's foot crunched into the plump vegetable, the crack sounded much like that of lightning. It reared to it's feet and it's rider - my dearest friend Ichabod - was flung from it's back! I could hardly believe my eyes. The horror of it all was so stunning. He flew through the rain, illuminated by the slivers of the moonlight, in suspended motion. I believe for an instant we saw each other's faces. He was so scared, terrified.

I could do little but scream as he sunk into the river, goaded by storm waters, and was swept away. For the remainer of that night and into the next week, I rode down that dreadful river... But I could never find my poor friend Ichabod.

A Single Breath of Godhood

The mist filled my nose and suddenly I was God. I was no longer merely *human.* I knew too much to be a man anymore. I saw too much. I controlled too much. I was too much... and I could feel it fading away quickly. All of the world - no, the universe - was clay in my hands. I knew intrinsically that if I willed it, I could change anything. The sun would grow to consume the earth if I wanted. I could make every murderer suffer the same fate as their victims.

But I also knew that if I let go of this breath, all of that would leave me. I'd return to what I was. Only moments had passed since I'd been God, but the feeling of being more was so profound that they felt more real than the 20 years of life I'd lived before that moment. Why had I come here? Why had I become God? My life was so small in comparison to all that I observed now... I had wanted something though.

The memory struck me - struck divinity - like a gong, the pain of my memory flooded throughout creation in ripples of destruction. They were undone a moment later at my will. I'd taken the power of all things so save her. A single life. The way I saw her now was seemingly detached from my pain. I was God. I knew everything, and as I looked at her corpse... Bones, simple carbon and calcium... blood, iron and water. I was God and she was dead, and even if I made a new her. One that knew all she did and was exactly like her in every way. Something I knew I could do. I knew she wouldn't be *her.*

I almost let go. Then I almost took out my rage on everything that existed. Then I understood all was for nothing. I couldn't save her, so nothing really mattered at all. I was all there was, and I had nothing at all.

Before my breath released, I made a single change. The form of her face in stone which would never fade. She would be the last of all things to exist, yet she'd never truly be back... Then I let go. The power flushed from me and the last of my Godhood was channeled into a thousand tiny miracles across the world. A girl's foot healed. A scholar was chosen for a school he loved, despite wealth and circumstance. A child breathing again when their mother thought all was lost... then I was human. And I was empty. Not for my lack of divinity, but for the lack of my love.

okay, Rhythm of War: Complete. That book was awesome.

I’m really worried about Taravangian!Odium, but… well, it could end up fine, maybe. I think I’m gonna detour into Mistborn Era 2 now. I’ve been in the Stormlight Archives for a very long time, so a smaaaallll break to read a five book series is in order :P

Hope you guys stick around for that liveblog as well <3