namer

Hey taylorswift! I’m getting my first car, and this is it, but I’m having a bit of trouble; I don’t know what her name should be. Now, I have a couple of ideas that I’ve worked on with my sister, but I just don’t feel like they fit. So I’ve come to you, the almighty naming master of piglets and dance moves, to help me out on naming my first car. So if you see this, and you think of any names that reach out to you, would you please give me a yell (or alternatively a reply) - because something as big as this cannot be taken lightly and I must look to the experts for advice. Thank you for helping me out - you magical lyricist. Xx Talia

Seven words
  • Kvothe:little shit with literally all the women
  • Bast:charming, smooth as shit motherfucking Fae prince
  • Denna:basically has full possession of Kvothe's heart
  • Mola:will not take any of Kvothe's shit
  • Devi:Alar like a fucking ocean in storm
  • Fela:awesome down-to-earth namer-in-training
  • Tempi:cute as fuck low-ranking Adem mercenary
  • Vashet:will not take any of Kvothe's shit
  • Felurian:faerie with an ego to rival Kvothe's
  • Elodin:perfection in the form of a namer
  • Simmon:optimistic alchemist/poet/cute ball of fur
  • Wilem:solid friend who might have drinking problems
  • Ambrose:literal piece of pretentious, misogynistic, "noble" shit
Every priesthood has what we call mandates - laws handed down by the gods themselves to those who serve them. In most temples, these are complex, messy, annoying things. In the priesthood of the Benefactor, things are easy. We only have two. The first one is, THIEVES PROSPER. Simple as that. We’re ordered to aid one another, hide one another, make peace whenever possible and see to it that our kind flourishes, by hook, or by crook… ”
  “But the second mandate,” said Chains, lowering his voice and glancing around in the fog to make double sure that were not overheard, “is this - THE RICH REMEMBER”.
  “Remember what?”
  “That they’re not invincible. That locks can be picked and treasures can be stolen. Nara, Mistress of Ubiquitous Maladies, may Her hand be stayed, sends disease among men so that men will never forget that they are not gods. We’re sort of like that, for the rich and powerful. We’re the stone in their shoe, the thorn in their flesh, a little bit of reciprocity this side of divine judgement.
—  Scott Lynch, Red Seas Under Red Skies