Okay, please imagine the Nightborne getting really into Horde culture.
Nightborne embracing Blood Elf customs, their attire and speech patterns. They get overly emotional looking at Silvermoon once they learn the stories.
Nightborne learning eagerly from the Tauren, how they hunt and make leather goods and such. Nightborne being absolutely fascinated by kodos and wanting ten of them
Nightborne getting excited to learn Orcish, despite how awkward the rough syllables sound in their accents. They love the spiky aesthetics, love the hairdos, and just how gruff the orcs are.
Nightborne going traveling with Pandaren, exploring and learning their culture and ideals. They get auper excited to eat their food too and want to learn to cook a mean meal like that.
Nightborne and Trolls getting along really well, surprisingly. They admire their tenacity, and end up adopting a lot of trollish jewelry. Raptors are their favorites too.
Imagine them dressing up in some of the races’ traditional clothes, them reading up on the history they’ve missed, them opening up shops for the other members and sharing their stories and knowledge as well. Nightborne getting hyped for the holidays they’ve never heard of, or going out to this “Darkmoon Faire” the commoners speak of. I want this so bad, I can’t stop thinking about it, please imagine it with me
I love you so much and i can believe theres 3000+ people that tolerate me and like my art. You deserve some free art and all the good things in the world but i can offer only free art for now.
So anyways im giving away two headshots of any OC, character, real life people, whatever.
To participate in the giveaway, you must reblog this and follow me. Thats it.
Society has advanced to the point where we can scan a person and assign a number that determines how likely they are to commit a crime. Then one day, a serial killer is arrested with the lowest crime value ever observed. 0.
I did it because they took Morowa. It would probably have been more poetic, more beautiful, if we were twins, sharing a womb as well as a mother, but that wouldn’t be true.
In these, my last moments, I want to tell the truth.
They took Morowa when she was fifteen and I was seven, grabbed her from our front yard and read her her rights that don’t mean shit when you’re a Cisco 24 on a scale of 30.
Crime scores, C-scores, Ciscos, you’ve all gotten lazy over the years with your fear, bogging it down with slang and abbreviations to mask that it’s a stupid, random number you give to unlucky, random people.
It’s the same number of syllables, I don’t understand why you can’t just say it. Jesus. What’s going to happen if you do? You’ll combust? You’ll choke on the words? You’ll realize that the concept is stupid, that it doesn’t mean shit, that you can’t rate people with DNA markers and family histories and expect that they’ll do what you want?
God fucking damn, perish the fucking thought.
So I did it because you’re scum. Because you think you’re special. Because you think you know.
The first one was in Bishop. Some cop who wore his Cisco around his neck like an award, who turned his nose up at anyone higher than ten, who imagined he had the right to choose who to protect and serve. It was easy to gain his trust, to get him to come with me, to lure him into the gully where I slit his throat.
All of it was so, so easy with a government ID with a big fat Crime Score: 0on it. The woman in Little Rock practically lit herself on fire, she was so vulnerable. The teacher in Phoenix literally put the garrote around his own neck.
Literally. Put the garrote around his neck. Like it was some precious metal a Cisco 0 gave him. Like a prize.
One
Little
Number
and these sheep bared their throats, exposed their bellies, handed me their lives. And I took them because why not? Don’t I deserve to do what I want? I’m a Zero, after all, aren’t I special?
Morowa would never have done what I’ve done. She was a scientist. An explorer. A wonder.
Morowa would never have. And because of you asshats, she’ll never get the chance to prove it.
So, instead of a scientist and an explorer and a god-given wonder, you get her photo-perfect negative. I was supposed to be so good, so pure and look at me fucking now. My hands are so red, my smile so wide, my teeth so sharp. They found the bones in the closet, still with chunks of flesh hanging off of them, still with that stupid fucking necklace the cop from Bishop wore.
Crime Score: 0. Cisco 0. Next time you meet one, next time you see someone who they tell you is safe, you’ll think of me.
That’s why I did it. So you’ll think of me. You’ll think of my Cisco Zero.
When you are writing a story and refer to a character by a physical trait, occupation, age, or any other attribute, rather than that character’s name, you are bringing the reader’s attention to that particular attribute. That can be used quite effectively to help your reader to focus on key details with just a few words. However, if the fact that the character is “the blond,” “the magician,” “the older woman,” etc. is not relevant to that moment in the story, this will only distract the reader from the purpose of the scene.
If your only reason for referring to a character this way is to avoid using his or her name or a pronoun too much, don’t do it. You’re fixing a problem that actually isn’t one. Just go ahead and use the name or pronoun again. It’ll be good.
Someone finally spelled out the REASON for using epithets, and the reasons NOT to.
In addition to that:
If the character you are referring to in such a way is THE VIEWPOINT CHARACTER, likewise, don’t do it. I.e. if you’re writing in third person but the narration is through their eyes, or what is also called “third person deep POV”. If the narration is filtered through the character’s perception, then a very external, impersonal description will be jarring. It’s the same, and just as bad, as writing “My bright blue eyes returned his gaze” in first person.
Furthermore,
if the story is actually told through the eyes of one particular viewpoint character even though it’s in the third person, and in their voice, as is very often the case, then you shouldn’t refer to the characters in ways that character wouldn’t.
In other words, if the third-person narrator is Harry Potter, when Dumbledore appears, it says “Dumbledore appears”, not “Albus appears”. Bucky Barnes would think of Steve Rogers as “Steve”, where another character might think of him as “Cap”. Chekov might think of Kirk as “the captain”, but Bones thinks of him as “Jim”.
Now, there are real situations where you, I, or anybody might think of another person as “the other man”, “the taller man”, or “the doctor”: usually when you don’t know their names, like when there are two tap-dancers and a ballerina in a routine and one of the men lifts the ballerina and then she reaches out and grabs the other man’s hand; or when there was a group of people talking at the hospital and they all worked there, but the doctor was the one who told them what to do. These are all perfectly natural and normal. Similarly, sometimes I think of my GP as “the doctor” even though I know her name, or one of my coworkers as “the taller man” even though I know his. But I definitely never think of my long-term life partner as “the green-eyed woman” or one of my best friends as “the taller person” or anything like that. It’s not a sensible adjective for your brain to choose in that situation – it’s too impersonal for someone you’re so intimately acquainted with. Also, even if someone was having a one night stand or a drunken hookup with a stranger, they probably wouldn’t think of that person as “the other man”: you only think of ‘other’ when you’re distinguishing two things and you don’t have to go to any special effort to distinguish your partner from yourself to yourself.
This is something that I pretty consistently have to advise for those I beta edit for. (It doesn’t help that I relied on epithets a lot in the earlier sections of my main fic because I was getting into the swing of things.) I am reblogging this so fanfic writers can use this as a reference.
A good rule of thumb: a character’s familiarity with another character decreases the need for an epithet (and most times you really don’t need one at all).
Some 1,200 years ago, a wealthy noblewoman, at least 60 years old, was laid to rest in Peru—richly provisioned for eternity with jewelry, flasks, and weaving tools made of gold.
Now, more than five years after her tomb was found untouched outside of the coastal town of Huarmey, scientists have reconstructed what she may have looked like.
“When I first saw the reconstruction, I saw some of my indigenous friends from Huarmey in this face,” says National Geographic grantee Miłosz Giersz, the archaeologist who co-discovered the noblewoman’s tomb. “Her genes are still in the place.”
In 2012, Giersz and Peruvian archaeologist Roberto Pimentel Nita discovered the tomb El Castillo de Huarmey. The hillside site was once a large temple complex for the Wari culture, which dominated the region centuries before the more famous Inca. Read more.
push yourself to get up before the rest of the world – start with 7am, then 6am, then 5:30am. go to the nearest hill with a big coat and a scarf and watch the sun rise.
push yourself to fall asleep earlier – start with 11pm, then 10pm, then 9pm. wake up in the morning feeling re-energized and comfortable.
get into the habit of cooking yourself a beautiful breakfast. fry tomatoes and mushrooms in real butter and garlic, fry an egg, slice up a fresh avocado and squirt way too much lemon on it. sit and eat it and do nothing else.
stretch. start by reaching for the sky as hard as you can, then trying to touch your toes. roll your head. stretch your fingers. stretch everything.
buy a 1L water bottle. start with pushing yourself to drink the whole thing in a day, then try drinking it twice.
buy a beautiful diary and a beautiful black pen. write down everything you do, including dinner dates, appointments, assignments, coffees, what you need to do that day. no detail is too small.
strip your bed of your sheets and empty your underwear draw into the washing machine. put a massive scoop of scented fabric softener in there and wash. make your bed in full.
organise your room. fold all your clothes (and bag what you don’t want), clean your mirror, your laptop, vacuum the floor. light a beautiful candle.
have a luxurious shower with your favourite music playing. wash your hair, scrub your body, brush your teeth. lather your whole body in moisturiser, get familiar with the part between your toes, your inner thighs, the back of your neck.
push yourself to go for a walk. take your headphones, go to the beach and walk. smile at strangers walking the other way and be surprised how many smile back. bring your dog and observe the dog’s behaviour. realise you can learn from your dog.
message old friends with personal jokes. reminisce. suggest a catch up soon, even if you don’t follow through. push yourself to follow through.
think long and hard about what interests you. crime? sex? boarding school? long-forgotten romance etiquette? find a book about it and read it. there is a book about literally everything.
become the person you would ideally fall in love with. let cars merge into your lane when driving. pay double for parking tickets and leave a second one in the machine. stick your tongue out at babies. compliment people on their cute clothes. challenge yourself to not ridicule anyone for a whole day. then two. then a week. walk with a straight posture. look people in the eye. ask people about their story. talk to acquaintances so they become friends.
lie in the sunshine. daydream about the life you would lead if failure wasn’t a thing. open your eyes. take small steps to make it happen for you.
This is all really good advice for dealing with long term depression and anxiety. It’s not gonna magically cure you, but I’ve pushed myself to incorporate a few of these things into my day to day routine and it helps
PURPLE: We near never speak, but I do enjoy your presence on my dashboard.
FUCHSIA: I wish I could become your best friend through the internet.
GREY: You leave me with jumbled words.
RED: I’m in love with you.
PINK: I have a crush on you.
TURQUOISE: You’re hot.
CHARTREUSE: I sincerely wish you would notice me.
TEAL: We have quite a lot in common.
BLUE: You are my Tumblr crush.
ORANGE: I dislike your page.
YELLOW: PLEASE FUCK ME.
WHITE: PLEASE MARRY ME.
GREEN: I find you cute.
BLACK: I would date you.
BROWN: I dislike you.
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